A conversation I had earlier this week sparked some thinking about the disciplinary methods my parents used while I was growing up. As I considered the many spankings I received, I was a little surprised to acknowledge the emotions that accompanied these memories. Fondness. Gratitude.
Let me take you back:
I'm 6 or so, and just did something terrible to one of my sisters. Immediately after lashing out, I realize what I've done and a sense of fear and regret sweeps over me. The look in my father's eye and the tone in his voice tells me that I will be getting a spanking. He sends me to my room or the bathroom to "think about" what I've done. As I sit there waiting, I have plenty of time to regret my action and to feel as guilty as the sin I just committed. Fear of the coming spanking is mixed with sorrow and remorse. I know I have done wrong, and I am genuinely sorry.
Enter my father. His countenance reveals the pain my transgression has caused him. I have done wrong, and until things are made right my relationship with him is uncomfortably broken. Gently, he speaks to me. He asks me if I know why I am getting a spanking. I do, and through tears I tell him. I understand that my actions deserve punishment.
For a fleeting moment I think that he may forgo the spanking if my tears demonstrate a deep enough remorse. Yet, compared to the sorrow I see in his eyes, the spanking itself seems inconsequential. He tells me that he knows I am sorry, and that the spanking I am about to receive will hurt him more than it hurts me. My 6 year old mind cannot comprehend that possibility, but somehow it must be true. My father said it, and I trust him.
The dreaded moment comes, and bleary eyed I bend over and brace myself. A flash of pain, a flood of fresh tears, a fatherly embrace. Immediately after receiving the spanking, my 6 year old self bounds into my father's arms for comfort. The very same hands that delivered the discipline now hold me tightly, reassuring me that what once was broken has been restored. He tells me that he loves me, and I know it's true. I never doubted it for a moment.
What surprised me as I recalled these types of scenarios was the range of emotions I experienced without ever losing a sense of my father's love for me. Throughout the disciplinary process, I don't remember ever feeling or thinking that he did not love me. Perhaps I was so convinced of that love already that I never doubted it, even in the midst of receiving a spanking.
But why was my father the one I turned to after the painful disciplinary deed was done? The only explanation is that I was so sure of his love, so sure that I would find comfort there, that it did not matter that he was the one who moments before had inflicted the physical pain. Could it be that on some level I understood that he actually spanked me out of love for me?
Looking back, I know that is why my parents disciplined my sisters and me. Memories of spankings are testimonies of their love for us. Through them we learned valuable lessons of right and wrong, obedience, transgression, and reconciliation. And that is why I can honestly recall such experiences with fondness and gratitude. These things remind me of my parents' faithful love.
There are many parallels that can be drawn between my humble childhood tale and rich truths of the gospel. I have not the time to point each of them out, but I will share one that I have been meditating on this week:
God disciplines His children because of His great love for them. If my 6 year old self trusted my imperfect earthly father throughout the painful experience of discipline, how much more should I trust my Heavenly Father when He disciplines me for the sake of righteousness? And just as I ran into the arms of my earthly father for comfort during such times, should I not cling to my Heavenly Father who loves me all the more?
The author of Hebrews discusses this very idea in Hebrews 12, and comments, "All discipline for the moment seems not to be joyful, but sorrowful; yet to those who have been trained by it, afterwards it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness."
As I consider the discipline I have received from my parents and see the fruit that it has yielded in my life I am grateful. They trained me because they loved me. In similar fashion, I pray that I may bear the discipline of the Lord with all gratitude, being confident that His great love is at work throughout the process.Labels: family, reflections