Experiencing Freedom

I wrote the following article when I was 19-years-old. Back then I did a column in New Attitude magazine each issue called "Where I'm At." This article was entitled "Experiencing Freedom." The subtitle read, "If this is freedom I'll take the ball and chain." I was reminded of it this week because it addresses some of the issues that a young friend of mine is facing. I share it here in the hope that it will serve other young adults chasing the promise of independence and "freedom." Update: Just so no one misunderstands, the point of this article is not to advocate that people live with their parents indefinitely. It's directed to students in their late teens who have an idealized vision of life on their own. It's not for 35-year-olds who want to stay home and have mom cook for them and do their laundry.

Not long ago I made a trip to Los Angeles. I went to see an old friend and to visit a college. One day of the five-day trip would be spent on the campus, the rest with my buddy. We'd known each other all through high school and grown up together in our church. Now he was living by himself in Hollywood making a go of acting.

The time was a nice break in my usual routine of being at home and working on the magazine. And it gave me an opportunity to get an up-close look at two things I was curious about: the single lifestyle of someone my age living on his own, and the campus lifestyle of a bunch of people my age living together.

I was curious because, well, I guess because of, peer pressure. Most of the people I know I absolutely insist that getting out of your home after high school is one of the most vital things a human being can do. I'm not exaggerating this. I remember the college-age leader at my youth group, a student at a local Bible school, who counseled me to "get away from my parents" as soon as I could. He said it would help me grow as a person. Many of my friends seem to have bought into this advice. The ones who can't bolt off to a far away college after high school usually end up treating home life as a necessary evil until they can escape its clutches. When they look at me, a life-time home schooler with five younger siblings having to share a room with three little brothers, they almost sob with pity. Poor sheltered Joshua! When will he ever step away from his parents and mob of little brothers and sisters and experience freedom?

So there I was, the sheltered home schooler from Gresham, Oregon, in the middle of L.A. Here was an opportunity to see just what this "freedom" everyone was talking about looked like. Exhibit A was my friend living on his own. From the outside he would appear to have everything a person needs to experience freedom to the fullest. He lived in a nice apartment complex with pool tables, a weight room, an outdoor pool, and a hot tub. He drove an '88 Jeep Wrangler, and he didn't have anyone to tell him when to be in at night. If anyone had freedom, it was him.

And yet within the first day of being with him, I sensed the emptiness of his life. And it wasn't an emptiness from lack of company. L.A. is bustling with company. But all the opportunities for entertainment and people-packed places can't erase the feeling of loneliness. A loneliness for people who really love you, a loneliness for family.

I'm not sure if my friend ever really pinpointed that loneliness. But I did. I felt it when we came home to his empty apartment. For some reason, I thought of what it was like to have a little brother grab your leg at the door or, even if no one verbally greeted you, just to know there were people home. Margaret Mead, an American anthropologist, said, "One of the oldest human needs is having someone to wonder where you are when you don't come home at night." For me the glamour of the single lifestyle seemed a cold trade-off for the warmth of a family.

After a few days with my friend, I moved on to Exhibit B: the college campus. The students there did have a lot of freedom. Other than their time in class, they could pretty much do whatever they wanted. On the weekends they could go to the beach, hit the clubs, or visit Tijuana. They're surrounded by friends, sunshine, and loads of freedom. But in the time that I spent there, I felt as if I'd walked into a bubble. Not a protective bubble that shelters you from negative influence, but a bubble that keeps the concerns of real life from making you grow up. It seemed like living at a high school. And this is not to say the professors weren't good. I visited classes, and I liked them. But learning was not the focus of the majority of students there. The focus was having a good time and enjoying their freedom. But to me, theirs was an empty freedom. It was a freedom to get caught up in the fleeting, and forget the things that make the world go 'round: families, true learning, real work.

I don't mean to be judgmental. I don't know the situations of all the students there. Personally, I very much want to take part in college level study, and at some point in the future I may even live on campus. But I don't look forward to it. The romance of living on a campus far from my family is gone. Just as the excitement of single life has faded.

I remember reflecting on all this before I fell asleep in the dorm room the evening of my visit. I'd met a lot of great people, quality people who were enjoying themselves and having a good time. I remember wondering why none of it appealed to me. I finally decided my problem was that I'd spent too much time at home. I guess I've gotten too used to being with people who really know me and who really care about me to be satisfied with the superficial.

I'm at home again and there are days, I admit, when my parents seem more a hindrance than anything else. Or when my brothers and sister are a genuine pain. But at those times I remember the empty apartment and the dorm. I remind myself that the hindrance and pain of family is real life. And it's real life that I want to be free to live. - Copyright 1993 Joshua Harris