The Father's Kind Discipline: A Reflection

"For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it." (Hebrews 12:11).

Time and again throughout history, God takes proud men, humbles them to where they are flat on their face in guilt and shame, and gives them grace so that they may serve him. He brought down David in his pride a couple of times. He brought down Peter, who presumed that he could never desert the Messiah. He broke Paul on the road to Damascus. He humbled Augustine, Luther, and Calvin. Spurgeon also was found prostrate on the floor in despondency and sorrow. There are many stories in which God brings low in order that he may exalt (James 4:10).

I am not saying that I am just like any of the previous men. Far from it. Nor am I saying that what I have experienced in God's discipline is the same as what these men have experienced. Rather, I can be confident to say that I am in good company. These past four weeks, especially this last one, has been God's work of disciplining me and bringing me low. He has used both his Word, my stupidity, and the loving rebuke of those around me to remind me just how broken I am and how good he is. It's as if God has been doing open-hearted surgery, revealing the gross infections that have spread within my soul.

My greatest fear is being rejected by others. My go-to way of compensating for my fear is by cracking jokes. And, ironically, my go-to form of joking is attacking the insecurities of others, sometimes unintentionally, but always at their expense. This inevitably gives good reason for others to keep away from me, which in turn feeds my fear. It's a never-ending cycle of my fears driving a full-on attack against the insecurities of others.

In these last couple of weeks, I messed up. And I messed up pretty big. Instead of being a shepherd, I acted like a wolf. I preyed on the insecurities of others, instead of protecting them. I said things that were corrupting and hurtful. One specific incident led me to weep over my sin because I had used my words to kill--an unintentional second-degree verbal murder. It was just a joke. But it was hurtful, and I knew it. "O Lord, I'm tired of my sin," was all I could pray.

I was reminded later into this last week that using my words in such a way would disqualify me as a pastor if I were one. I aspire to be a pastor so it breaks my hear to realize that I failed to be hospitable, self-controlled, sober-minded, and, above all, holy. I'm not the kind of person who actively seeks to attack others with my words. But, my words often demonstrate that I fail to love others. Most of all, they reveal how much I fail to understand how much God loves me. Like the second son in Luke 15, my pride keeps me from recognizing the Father's love and kindness towards me.

Through rebukes and circumstances where I messed up, the Lord was kind to show me how much I need his grace. Even though I mess up, he is a good Father that doesn't hate me. He doesn't prey on my insecurities. Rather, he protects them and loves in spite of them. He is sovereign and he is good, allowing us to fall flat on our face so that he could pick us right up. Because of his kindness towards me, I am free to be kind, gentle, and loving towards others.

God disciplines those whom he loves. He chastises and spanks so that he can sanctify. Oh, that my soul would not be so arrogant to need to go so low in order to realize how kind God is! And yet, he is patient. Like a dad, our Abba, God stands ready for his children to wobble towards him so that they could collapse into his arms, fully depending on him. They may stumble. They may fall. But he will always be there to pick them back up, hold them by the hand, and carry them all the way. His grace is greater (James 4:6).