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The Responsibility to Respect Conscience: Liberty Must Extend Beyond Those Who Agree with Us - Religious Liberty and Freedom of Conscience

Writer: Thom H. Paine
Thom H. Paine
Oct 13
11 min read

A Weekly Devotional from The Founders’ Quill: Reclaiming America’s Judeo-Christian Heritage through Spirit and Truth.



Two men in colonial-era clothing talk outside a village church, one holding papers, in warm sunny light with townsfolk behind.
Two men in colonial-era attire engage in conversation outside a rustic building, set against a quaint village backdrop with a church and townsfolk bustling about.

Last week we considered the responsibility to speak. We discovered that truth does not require contempt and that Christian conviction need not surrender either courage or charity. We pictured two ordinary citizens seated across a table, discussing something about which they strongly disagreed. Each believed his position was right. Each had something important to say. Yet both were challenged to speak with the dignity, restraint, and respect that genuine self-government requires.


But suppose the conversation has ended, and neither man has changed his mind.

They have listened. They have offered their reasons. They have considered the other's arguments. Perhaps each understands his neighbor better than he did before. Yet their convictions remain different, and neither is prepared to surrender what he believes.

What happens now?


That question brings us to another essential responsibility of a free people. We have considered the duties of the individual, the family, the neighbor, and the citizen. We have examined our responsibility to know what is true and to speak that truth in love. Now we must confront something that tests whether our commitment to liberty extends beyond ourselves.


We have not fully learned to value liberty until we are willing to defend it for those whose convictions differ from our own.


The Conscience Before God - Religious Liberty and Freedom of Conscience


The apostle Paul addressed a difficult problem in the fourteenth chapter of Romans. Within the Christian community, believers disagreed about certain religious practices, including what foods they could eat and which days should receive special observance. These disagreements mattered deeply to the people involved. Their convictions were not merely personal preferences but were bound up with what they believed faithfulness to God required.


Paul did not resolve the problem by insisting that every believer abandon his convictions. Neither did he suggest that truth was unimportant or that Christians should regard every moral question as a matter of individual preference. Instead, he addressed the danger of believers assuming authority over one another in matters where they were responsible to act conscientiously before the Lord.


“Who are you to judge someone else's servant?” Paul asked (Romans 14:4 NIV). Later, he reminded his readers that “each of us will give an account of ourselves to God” (Romans 14:12 NIV).


There is an important distinction here. Romans 14 does not make individual conscience the final measure of all truth. Elsewhere, Paul plainly confronts sin, corrects false teaching, and calls believers to obedience. His concern in this passage is with disputed practices in which believers must act from faith rather than surrender their convictions merely to satisfy the demands of others.


Nevertheless, the principle reaches deeply into our understanding of conscience. Each person stands before God with a responsibility that cannot simply be transferred to another human being. We may teach, correct, encourage, persuade, and bear witness. But we should be cautious about assuming that our authority over another person's conscience is greater than Scripture allows.


For Christians, conscience is not something to be worshiped. It must be instructed by Scripture, corrected by truth, and shaped by the Holy Spirit. A sincere conscience can still be mistaken. Yet the possibility of error does not mean that another human being possesses unlimited authority to dictate what a person must believe.


That distinction lies near the heart of religious liberty.


A Lesson Learned Through Struggle


It would be comforting to imagine that Americans understood religious liberty perfectly from the beginning. They did not.


The colonies inherited different arrangements between religion and civil authority. Some maintained established churches supported by public funds. Some imposed restrictions upon religious dissenters. Religious tests and unequal treatment existed in various forms. The freedom we now associate with the American constitutional tradition emerged through argument, experience, political struggle, and the persistent efforts of people who believed that government had exceeded its proper authority.


Virginia provides one of the clearest examples.


In 1785, James Madison opposed a proposal that would have authorized public financial support for teachers of Christianity. The measure was defended by some as beneficial to religion and public morality. Madison believed it threatened something more fundamental: the freedom of religious conscience.


In his Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments, Madison argued that religious duty could be directed through reason and conviction rather than force. He maintained that religious belief must be left to the conscience of each person because the obligation to God precedes the claims of civil society.¹


Madison was not arguing that religion was unimportant. His reasoning began with the seriousness of religious obligation. Precisely because a person's duty toward the Creator was so important, he believed civil government should not presume to dictate its exercise.

There is something remarkable about that argument. Rather than treating religious liberty as a concession made by government to individuals, Madison treated conscience as possessing a dignity that government was obligated to recognize.


The following year, Virginia enacted Thomas Jefferson's Statute for Religious Freedom. Jefferson had drafted the measure years earlier, but its adoption in January 1786 marked a significant advance in the protection of religious belief and practice. The statute rejected compulsory support for religious worship and affirmed that religious opinions should not determine a person's civil standing.²


These developments did not eliminate every religious restriction or inequality in the new nation. Nor did all Americans agree about the proper relationship between religion and government. But they established an important principle within the developing American understanding of liberty.


Civil government possesses legitimate authority, but that authority is not unlimited. The conscience of the individual is not simply another possession of the state.


When Conviction Becomes Coercion


This history raises a question that Christians should be especially willing to consider.

What are we trying to accomplish when we seek to influence another person's beliefs?

If we believe the Christian gospel is true, we should proclaim it. If we believe God's moral commands are good, we should teach them. If we believe particular actions are destructive, we should explain why. Christian faith does not require us to retreat into silence or pretend that deeply held convictions are merely private opinions without consequences for the world around us.


But proclaiming truth and compelling religious conformity are not the same thing.

A person may be pressured into attending a religious service. He may be persuaded that certain outward behaviors will bring social approval or protect him from punishment. He may learn to repeat the proper words, observe the expected ceremonies, and present himself as someone who believes what those around him demand.


None of those things guarantees that he has experienced genuine faith.


We may compel outward compliance, but we cannot compel inward conviction.


This distinction should be especially meaningful to Christians who understand salvation as the work of God's grace. The Holy Spirit awakens, convicts, draws, and transforms. The gospel calls for repentance and faith, not merely the appearance of conformity.


Government can establish and enforce laws governing public conduct within its legitimate authority. Families, churches, and communities likewise possess responsibilities appropriate to their relationships and institutions. But none of these can manufacture saving faith through pressure or force.


Indeed, when religious conformity becomes a means of obtaining social advantage or avoiding punishment, hypocrisy may flourish where genuine conviction should have been cultivated.


The Christian's responsibility is to bear faithful witness. We teach. We reason. We persuade. We serve. We demonstrate the character of Christ. We invite others to consider the truth.

But we must not confuse controlling another person's outward behavior with transforming that person's heart.


Liberty Must Be Mutual


There is another historical witness worth hearing.


In August 1790, President George Washington wrote to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island. The congregation had expressed its appreciation for the opportunities offered by the new government, and Washington responded with words that remain among the most significant statements of religious liberty from the early republic.

“All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship,” Washington wrote. He rejected the idea that religious freedom existed merely because one group graciously tolerated another. Instead, he described it as an inherent right belonging to citizens.³


The setting matters. Washington was addressing a Jewish congregation in a nation whose culture was overwhelmingly shaped by Christianity. His assurance was not simply that the majority would be kind enough to permit the minority to worship. He was affirming a principle of citizenship that did not depend upon belonging to the religious majority.

That is a demanding understanding of liberty.


It is relatively easy to defend religious freedom when our own beliefs are the ones being protected. It becomes more difficult when someone exercises that same freedom in ways we believe are mistaken.


Yet a principle cannot remain a principle if its meaning changes whenever the people exercising it change.


If I believe government should protect my right to worship according to conscience, I must consider the corresponding right of my neighbor whose worship differs from mine. If I insist that the state should not compel me to profess beliefs I reject, I should be cautious about granting the state authority to compel religious professions from someone else.


This does not mean every claim made in the name of conscience automatically overrides the rights of others or the legitimate responsibilities of civil government. Real conflicts arise, and they sometimes require difficult judgments about public safety, equal treatment, religious exercise, and competing liberties. But those difficulties do not make the underlying principle disposable.


Nor does protecting another person's liberty require affirming that person's beliefs as true. Respect for conscience is not the same as agreement. We can believe that another person is profoundly mistaken while still recognizing that his freedom matters.


The question is whether we defend liberty because we believe it is right or merely because it is useful to us.


Do I want religious liberty as a principle—or merely protection for my own religion?


That question deserves more than a hurried answer.


The Temptation to Control


The temptation to govern another person's conscience does not begin in a legislature or a courtroom. It often begins much closer to home.


We encounter someone whose beliefs trouble us. Perhaps it is a family member who has wandered from the faith. Perhaps it is a friend whose moral convictions differ from ours. Perhaps it is a neighbor whose religious practices we do not understand or a fellow citizen whose understanding of liberty seems entirely wrong.


We want that person to change.


Sometimes our concern is sincere and loving. We believe the person is mistaken and that the consequences may be serious. We want what is good for him. We want him to recognize the truth.


But sincere concern can gradually become a desire for control.


We may begin to believe that if we can only apply enough pressure, win enough arguments, establish enough rules, or remove enough choices, we can produce the outcome we desire.

There are circumstances in which authority must establish boundaries and restrain harmful behavior. Parents have responsibilities toward children. Churches must exercise appropriate discipline within their communities. Governments must protect the public and uphold just laws. Respecting conscience does not eliminate these legitimate obligations.


But we must learn to distinguish exercising rightful authority from attempting to possess another person's inner life.


That is particularly important for Christian witness. We are called to make disciples, but discipleship cannot be reduced to controlling appearances. The goal is not merely that people behave as though they believe. The goal is that they come to know and follow Christ.

And that is ultimately a work greater than our ability to compel.


Conviction Without Domination


Peter gives believers a beautiful description of Christian witness in a world where their convictions may be questioned or opposed. He tells them to be prepared to explain the hope they possess, but to do so “with gentleness and respect” (1 Peter 3:15 NIV).


Notice that Peter does not tell believers to conceal their convictions. They are to be ready to give an answer. They must know what they believe and why they believe it.

But the manner of their witness matters.


Gentleness does not require uncertainty. Respect does not require agreement. Conviction does not require domination.


That is the lesson we have been approaching throughout these recent chapters. The citizen must first govern himself. He must learn to distinguish truth from falsehood. He must speak honestly without contempt. And now he must recognize that his neighbor possesses a conscience that cannot rightly be treated as his personal property.


This is not a call to indifference. It is a call to disciplined conviction.


We can defend the Christian faith without demanding that every person profess it. We can advocate laws and policies through the legitimate processes of a free republic without treating political victory as proof of spiritual conversion. We can teach moral truth while recognizing the distinction between the obligations of Christian discipleship and the proper authority of civil government.


Most importantly, we can trust that the truth does not become weaker when we refuse to force another person to confess it.


The Freedom We Leave to Others


Let us return once more to the two citizens sitting across the table.


Their conversation has ended. Neither has surrendered his convictions. Perhaps they have found a little common ground, or perhaps their disagreement remains as substantial as when they began.


One man gathers his papers. The other rises to see him to the door. They exchange a few final words and return to the ordinary responsibilities of their lives.


Nothing dramatic has occurred.


No great public controversy has been resolved. No law has been passed. No political victory has been won.


Yet something important has been preserved.


Two people have disagreed without surrendering their humanity to contempt or their consciences to coercion. Each remains free to believe, to speak, to worship, and to persuade. Each remains responsible for his own convictions and conduct. And each must continue living in a community where liberty belongs to more people than himself.

That is no small achievement.


The American experiment in ordered liberty has always required more than the ability to defend our own rights. It requires recognizing that the same principles limiting the power of others must also limit the power we are willing to exercise.


For Christians, that responsibility reaches even deeper. We answer to a Lord who commands us to love our neighbors, including those who do not share our convictions. We are called to bear witness to truth without imagining that we have been granted ownership of another person's conscience.


Perhaps the clearest test of our commitment to liberty is not how we behave when we lack power, but how we would behave if we possessed it.


And so the mirror remains before us.


If someone whose convictions differ from mine held the power I wish to exercise, would I still believe that power was just?


The answer may reveal whether we truly believe in liberty of conscience or merely desire the freedom to impose our own preferences.


A republic of free people cannot require every citizen to believe the same things. But it does require citizens who understand that liberty must be governed by principle rather than convenience.


And for those who follow Christ, it requires something more: the confidence to speak truth, the humility to respect conscience, and the faith to leave the transformation of the human heart in the hands of God.


Spirit & Truth,


Thom H. Paine


Notes


  1. James Madison, “Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments,” June 20, 1785, sec. 1, in The Founders' Constitution, edited by Philip B. Kurland and Ralph Lerner (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987), vol. 5, Amendment I (Religion), document 43. Madison argued that religious duty must arise from reason and conviction rather than force and that conscience possesses a claim prior to civil society.

  2. Thomas Jefferson, “An Act for Establishing Religious Freedom,” January 16, 1786, Records of the General Assembly, Enrolled Bills, Record Group 78, Library of Virginia, Richmond. Drafted earlier by Jefferson and enacted by the Virginia General Assembly in 1786, the statute prohibited compelled support of religious worship and protected citizens against civil disabilities based upon religious belief.

  3. George Washington, “To the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island,” August 18, 1790, in The Papers of George Washington, Presidential Series, vol. 6, July–November 1790, edited by Mark A. Mastromarino (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1996). Washington affirmed equal liberty of conscience and citizenship while rejecting the notion that religious freedom depended merely upon toleration granted by a dominant group.


Bibliography


Jefferson, Thomas. “An Act for Establishing Religious Freedom.” January 16, 1786. Records of the General Assembly, Enrolled Bills, Record Group 78. Library of Virginia, Richmond.


Madison, James. “Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments.” June 20, 1785. In The Founders' Constitution. Edited by Philip B. Kurland and Ralph Lerner. Vol. 5. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987.


The Holy Bible, New International Version. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2011.


Washington, George. “To the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island.” August 18, 1790. In The Papers of George Washington, Presidential Series, vol. 6, July–November 1790. Edited by Mark A. Mastromarino. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1996.


The Founders’ Quill seeks to recover the spiritual and moral foundations that shaped the American experiment in ordered liberty. By returning to Scripture, history, and the wisdom of those who came before us, we are invited not merely to admire our inheritance but to become people capable of preserving it.

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