Discipline

I began today with a good bit of frustration. I’m in the process of completing a rather momentous financial transaction (I’ll get into details after it’s done) and ran into a couple of hiccups. Let me keep it real - I feel pretty entitled to everything going the way I want it to. And I have this weird habit of assuming that the sins of my past won’t have present consequences because **dun duh duh dunnnnn** (trumpet fanfare) the blood of Jesus Christ covers my sins. 

I know, I know. When I’m in my right mind, I know good and doggone well that ain’t how it works. But my not-quite-right mind is still pretty fleshly. In reality, the fact that Jesus has covered my sins is meant to be understood forensically and eschatologically (that is, legally and ultimately). Legally, those who have trusted in Jesus as Lord and Savior have been forgiven of all their sins - past, present, and future - and declared righteous (justified) in the eyes of God. This is because Jesus stood in our place, dying the death that our sins deserved, so that we are “set free” to walk in the fullness of relationship with God and each other. Ultimately, I have been saved from eternity without God because my sins have not been counted against me. Jesus took them upon Himself. 

Now here’s where it gets funny. Just because I’ve been DECLARED righteous doesn’t mean I suddenly AM righteous in terms of my actions. My sinful tendencies don’t suddenly evaporate once I trust in Jesus, though that would be wonderful (and easy). More than that, I still face consequences - both earthly and spiritual - for the sins I commit. We all know this in practice. When I get a speeding ticket and show up to court, my defense of “your honor, I know I was speeding, but the blood of Jesus covers my sins” will be met with a monetary fine nonetheless, and possibly a contempt charge. Spiritually speaking, if I persist in sin, I will certainly feel a sense of separation from God, though that isn’t the case forensically. 

But, the good news is that, when I put my faith in Jesus, I am indwelled by God’s Spirit, and He transforms me progressively into what God has declared me to be - righteous. Now let’s be real, immediate transformation seems far more appealing sometimes. I mean, who’s got the time for sanctification with all its lessons and what not? But God in His wisdom knows how we tend to treat things that are free. So, in Christ, we have both. God’s gift of Salvation is free (though not cheap); it is freely given and freely received. But what is the purpose of a gift if not to stir in us affections for the Giver? We Protestants tend to emphasize the freeness of salvation so as not to imply that we must “work” for it (Ephesians 2:8-9). But this seems to have led to an unfortunate misunderstanding regarding gifts*. We do not work for the gift of salvation (nor could we), but God’s gift includes an invitation for us to participate in our own transformation. In fact, this is precisely what the Holy Spirit in us empowers. In Jesus’ time, it was understood that gifts came with strings attached. The “string” in this case is our participation. Our faith. Our trust. Our surrender to what the Holy Spirit is bringing about. 

Okay, back to the story. 

I woke up frustrated this morning because of a couple of hiccups I experienced yesterday on the way to closing an important personal event in my life. But really, in retrospect, the hiccups are the consequences of some financial impulsiveness on my part that was YEARS OLD. So in my not-quite-right mind, I had escaped the consequences. HA! Maybe that’s how some sins work, but apparently this sin had a good memory. And here’s the crazy part. I’ve had ample time over the years to address and correct this sin. If I had done so, I would not be experiencing this present frustration. Sigh* Don’t you hate it when the past you refused to address creeps back up into your present?

Alright, alright, shame isn’t what I’m going for here.

In light of the fact that God invites us to participate in our own transformation, this passage from Proverbs 3:11-12 keeps coming to the surface in my heart. 

My son, do not despise the Lord’s discipline,

    and do not resent his rebuke,

because the Lord disciplines those he loves,

    as a father the son he delights in.

God is a Father who gives good gifts to His children (Matthew 7:11), the greatest of which ensures our eternal bond with Him. But among the other gifts - which occur in sanctification - is the gift of discipline. Discipline is often mis-associated with punishment when it’s really referring to instruction (rebuke is correction). Together, the two terms evoke an image of God redirecting us. 

Think of a father teaching his son how to change a tire. A wise father would give instruction, then allow his son to give it a shot. When a mistake inevitably occurs, the father would redirect his son by correcting him and providing him with re-instruction. Changing a tire can be dangerous after all. What if you don’t pull far enough onto the shoulder? What if you’re on an uneven surface? What if the jack is not correctly positioned on an appropriate support point? The consequences could be dire. So the most loving thing a father can do is ensure that his son is disciplined when it comes to this knowledge. It might well save his son’s life.. 

Discipline in this sense is, quite literally, an act of love. And (as I’m discovering in my current situation), discipline - as uncomfortable as it might be - is better on the front end than harm is on the back end. So after some God-given self-awareness, I’ve come to accept the fact that my actions brought me here and no amount of languishing will change what has happened. What I can do, though, is learn from what has happened and embrace the Lord’s discipline in my life - whether it comes as instruction that I can proactively apply on the front end…or consequence that I must reap on the back end. 

In either case, He remains my Father and I remain His son, fully known and fully loved - forever. That’s His gift to me. And no one can take it away from me. Or from you.

*(a great book on this is Barclay's Paul and the Gift.)