Posts Tagged: discipline

“A Very Serious Teeter-Totter!”

A good friend of mine, in an accountability-support phone call yesterday made some intriguing comments about his core values. He spoke of courage and discipline, which are balanced by wisdom and compassion. He pictures these qualities as if they are a teeter-totter. For him, learning is the fulcrum.

I am not sure precisely what he means, but those words and the image of the teeter-totter has been marinating in my brain for the past twenty-four hours. Here is the current flavor of my thoughts about these qualities and the fulcrum.

Let me take a stab at the first two core values—courage and discipline. My first observation would be this: I don’t really know what these words mean, and I’m not sure that I want to know what they mean. Courage and discipline sound scary and costly to me.

I googled “courage” and found this definition at https://www.google.com/search?q=define+courage&rlz=1C1GCEA_enUS844US844&oq=define+courage&aqs=chrome..69i57j0i512l9.3232j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8.

“cour·age

noun

  1. the ability to do something that frightens one.

‘she called on all her courage to face the ordeal’

  • strength in the face of pain or grief.

‘he fought his illness with great courage’”

I suspect that the first step in cultivating courage is admitting that I’m afraid. And I am very much afraid to admit that. I would sooner admit that I am angry than to admit that I am afraid. (Typical man!)

Perhaps I could begin with some small fears and work my way up. Okay. Let me begin right now!

I am afraid of . . . Wow! I’m having a difficult time thinking of any little fears. All the ones that come to mind seem big. Hummm . . .

Perhaps I should just move on to discipline. To paraphrase a saying of Jesus, “If they persecute you in one word, flee to another.”

Discipline! I don’t like that word either. But perhaps, discipline is courage in the small things. Maybe discipline prepares me to develop some courage.

I use these blog posts, not just to write, but to grow. So, here is what I am going to pledge to you, myself, and God: Today, I will make disciplined choices about what I eat. I will eat only healthy foods today. That is about as much discipline as I can probably muster. I will let you know how I did tomorrow in my post.

“Welcoming Pain”

Sunday, August 26, 2018

“5               And have you forgotten the exhortation that addresses you as sons?

“My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord,

nor be weary when reproved by him.

6           For the Lord disciplines the one he loves,

and chastises every son whom he receives.” (Hebrews 11:5-6)

The pain is still present.  What would happen if I simply welcomed it?

All problems are made worse by resisting them.  So, perhaps the opposite approach might be helpful.

I am not talking about passivity.  Few things are more active and dynamic than genuine acceptance.

I suppose that I am like every other person/animal in the world.  I don’t desire pain.  Yet pain is necessary.  Without it, how would I ever change?  Without pain I would have died years ago.

My father-in-law had diabetes.  As is usually the case, late in his life he was plagued with neuropathy—a fancy, medical term that means his nerves couldn’t feel pain.  Once, when he was standing at the edge of a big brush pile that had been burned, he didn’t realize that, under the ashes there were still live coals.  Only when his shoes were burned through and his feet had begun to smolder did he realize this.  His feet never fully recovered from this.  I can’t remember for sure, but I think that his feet had to be amputated eventually.  No, it is not a good thing to be unable to feel pain.

Pain is like certain people I’ve known.  I can think of people over my lifetime who have been very prickly.  I sometimes call them “dill pickles with bumps.”  (It’s not an original expression, but it’s very expressive, isn’t it?)  They were, at least initially, not fun to be around.  In fact, sometimes, I called them a pain to be around.  And yet, I learned a lot from them.  In some cases, I even came to think of them as friends.

Perhaps I could do the same with pain.  People who exercise often cite the cliché, “No pain, no gain!”  Perhaps this is not a cliché or truism after all.  Perhaps, it is simply true.

Now, I’m not saying that we should like pain.  Liking the sensation of pain is usually recognized as a psychological aberration called “masochism.”  Pain was not designed to be pleasurable, just as a warning siren was not designed to be musical.  Welcoming pain doesn’t mean pretending that it isn’t pain.  Pain is pain.

There is a Hebrew noun, mûsar, that is often translated “discipline” in English.  It is formed off the same root as the verb yäsar.  The verb  means “to chastise or punish, physically or verbally.”

I don’t like being chastised or punished.  However, I do want some discipline in my life.  In other words, I want the product without the process.  I need to choose.

Welcome, pain!  Come in and sit a spell!  Can I get you a cup of coffee?

Bedtime and the Balance Between Judgment and Grace

My nephew, his wife, and their first child dropped by for a visit.  My nephew is one of the kindest, most gentle young men I’ve ever known.  Nevertheless, he has already begun to have certain expectations of his six-month-old son.  While it has become unfashionable to have expectations of anyone under the age of eighteen, I think that Caleb is a wise dad.

For example, when Caleb and Deborah put the little guy down for the night, they actually expect him to sleep.  Imagine that!  If he fusses, they check to see that he is okay, and if he is, Caleb talks to Jared, and then taps him a couple of times on his bottom.  (No, this is not child abuse.  Caleb is as far from an angry, controlling abuser as you could ever imagine.)

But then, Caleb does something else.  He picks up Jared, cuddles him, and tells him how much he loves him, but that it is time to go to sleep.  I am old-fashioned enough to think that this is a good balance.

However, a problem has arisen: Jared enjoys being held and cuddled, so now he sometimes gets fussy at bedtime in order to get some attention.

So, Caleb is struggling with something we all struggle with all our lives: the balance between judgment and unconditional love.  It sometimes feels like a tightrope with no net below you.

My wife and I had a similar problem with our first child.  She was about six weeks old, and would not sleep for more than fifteen minutes at night.  My wife was nursing her.  Our little one would nibble around, and then doze off to sleep—for a few minutes.  Then, she would wake up and want to eat some more.  My wife and I were about to go crazy from lack of sleep.

Finally, my wife talked to her mom about the problem.  Her mom said that we needed to let our daughter “cry it out.”  So we did.  The first night, our baby cried pathetically for the longest fifteen minutes of our lives.  Then, she stopped.  Then she cried.  Then she stopped.  We finally figured out that she was listening for footsteps.  That night, she ate more than usual when my wife went in to nurse her.

The next night, she cried less, ate more, and slept more.  Within a few days, she was sleeping through the night, and so were we.

A friend of mine and I are accountability partners to each other.  Later the same day my nephew’s family visited, my friend and I were talking on the phone about balancing taking our sins seriously and God’s unconditional love.  I did not make the connection with Jared’s bedtime behavior until later.

God really, genuinely, deeply loves us.  No matter how old we are, we are still his little children.

However, God also has expectations of us.  When we rebel against those expectations, judgment follows.

Sometimes, I’m afraid, we (I) fall into the trap—and it is a trap—of thinking that we need to rebel in order to experience God’s unconditional love.  God swiftly backs away, in order to give us time to think (and act) more soberly.  Perhaps we feel that God has abandoned us.

No, God has not abandoned us!  He is just on the other side of the door of judgment, waiting for us to take his call to holiness more seriously.  Perhaps God’s judgment is one aspect of his unconditional love, rather than the opposite of God’s unconditional love.  God loves us entirely too much to let us get by with controlling, manipulative behavior, at any age.  Perhaps we don’t need to keep the balance between unconditional love and judgment.  Perhaps we just need to respect the balance that God has already established.

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