There is room for freedom in choosing our favorite colors, our favorite foods, our favorite music, our favorite teams (though we’re getting near the line). But how far do our personal preferences reach? Do I have freedom to follow my personal preferences in my religious choices?

I certainly do have the freedom from one perspective. In this country we have the celebrated freedom of exercising our religion as we see fit. There is no state religion. You can serve God however you see fit as long as you don’t violate the property and rights of others in the process.

But does the political freedom to worship as I see fit mean that all religious choices are equally right? Are religious choices just as subject to my personal preferences as my favorite color or my favorite ice cream?

I like the water. Baptism is a fine way—a sensible way—to wash away sins in my opinion. But you may disagree. The fact is—neither your opinion nor mine matters much this time. God decided to save baptized believers (Mark 16:16; 1 Peter 3:21) whether either of us like it or not. I may prefer some other method, but I rather prefer to be saved. We are both free to do as we wish—to be baptized or no—but our freedom doesn’t change God’s choice or God’s will on the subject.

I like classical music. I also like big band. The theater is one of my favorite places. A classical composition with a full orchestra may in my opinion be a fitting production for worship. A big band rendition of “The Old Rugged Cross” sung by Harry Connick, Jr. might suit me just fine. But you might prefer a lone pianist or perhaps a mandolin or tambourine. How could we ever agree if we were left to our own preferences? Fact is—neither of our tastes or preferences matters again. Neither of us is being worshiped in the assembly of the church—but God is. He commanded Christians to sing (Eph. 5:19; Col. 3:16). He told them all, not just some, to sing—“speaking to one another.” He gave them an instrument—“singing and making melody in your hearts.” I may prefer musical accompaniment. I may choose to have it my worship—but it ceases to be God’s. My choice doesn’t change God’s commandment. I’m free to choose, but I’m also free to be wrong.

I like food—and food of all kinds. I like Chinese cuisine. I like enchiladas and refried beans. I like barbecue. I love Italian. A weekly feast for the saints might be an edifying experience in my opinion. It’s good to be together, to practice hospitality, to associate with other believers. And there’s nothing like a good dinner to get folks to come to church. I’m not the first to think that such is a good idea—the Christians in Corinth thought of it first. They brought their own dinner to the assembly. Paul wrote and rebuked them sternly for the practice. “Do you not have houses to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God and shame those who have nothing? What shall I say to you? Shall I praise you in this? I do not praise you.” (1 Cor. 11:22). Despite what they preferred, God preferred that the sole business of the church be the soul business. The saints gather to feed their soul, not their bellies. I may think I know a better way, but that doesn’t make it God’s way. I’m free to decide, but God’s free to censure me the same way He did the Corinthians.

Personal preferences are fine when they’re reserved for choices that are amoral—that is, matters having nothing to do with morality—matters like favorite foods and colors. But when it comes to religious choices, let’s leave the choosing up to God. “If any man speak, let him speak as the oracles of God” (1 Peter 4:11).