Idled by Idolatry

Recently I encountered a moment of deep conviction upon my running life.  It is an interesting thing to me, because it was a conviction about my own idolatry.  That’s right, IDOLATRY.  

In modern times idolatry seems like an almost non-existent practice, yet nothing could be further from the truth.  In days gone by, among tribes in lands most of us never encounter, idolatry consists of people “less enlightened” than ourselves worshiping a fashioned piece of wood, stone, or metal made into the image of some thing, some animal, or maybe of some-one.  For more “civilized” societies, idolatry seems like a silly topic, yet I have heard preachers preach against it most of my life... for that matter, I have preached against the principles of idolatry myself.  We often use sports and money to illustrate idolatry for such sermons.  I never think I’m preaching to myself on this topic.

Idols can be good things in our lives.  Not the idolatry itself, but the objects of it.  My children are good things in my life, they should not be my idol.  My job is a good thing to have, it should not be my idol.  Food is a good thing, it can be an idol.  Likewise, exercise, with all its benefits, can be an idol in our lives.  Anything I place in priority over my God, is an idol.

Strange as it may sound to some of my readers, I believe God wanted me to start running.  I believe the Holy Spirit compelled me to do so.  There is no doubt there were some personal revelations and physical motivators involved (See Weak One on Day 1), but ultimately I believe they were simply measures God used to get my attention to tell me to run. 

One of the surprising discoveries in the process is my personal enjoyment of running.  I really do like running. I know! Who knew!  I like the personal achievement I feel.  I like the stress relief it brings.  I like the physical energy I have gained.  I like the loss of pounds that has occurred.  I like what I have seen along my running routes, the sunrises I have witnessed, the personal praise and prayers to my creator as I reflect.  I like the personal applications I have made in the process.  I like it all.  In fact, after completing the training of my C25K app I immediately downloaded the next app in the series and began running towards the 10K goal.  I was amazed at the progress I was making and excited to not only have hit the 5K goal (3.1 miles), but then to run 5 miles.  Then to run 5 miles again... and again... and then even farther.

The five mile mark is kind of a cool mark to me.  I feel proud of the fact that I can.  I think back to the struggle of reaching a single mile - it was hard to imagine five.  I know there are marathoners and triathletes and tough-mudder runners out there that are doing far more exerting runs, but all of them hit the five mile mark at some point.  Even from the perspective of their accomplishments, I know they haven’t forgotten what it felt like to reach their first five miles. They know how I feel.

But then... God spoke to me again.  I was at the point of being just a 1/2 mile from the 10K mark in my running.  I had about two weeks of training time left on my app.  I had already looked at downloading the half marathon training app the night before.  But God convicted me.  In the quite, cool, sweat dripping, rhythmic, serenity of one of my runs God said “I didn’t tell you to run 10K”.  

Wait!!! What?!?  I chose not to listen.

The next run that week was exhausting. I was having an awful time. I actually ran my fastest time ever to the 5K mark, but then fell apart after that.  Each step seemed grueling.  It was almost like day one all over again.  My side began to hurt.  My legs felt feeble beneath me.  I felt more out of breath than ever and decided to stop and walk back home after having only run 3.5 miles.

Once again in the stillness of what was now a walk home, God spoke to me again and said “I didn’t tell you to run 10K”.

Simple as that.  He cleared me to run 5, NOT 10...but why?  Because of my own idolatry.

You see when I started, I found myself more disciplined spiritually as well.  I found myself less neglecting of time alone with Him.  I would return after a 30 minute run and sit on the patio reflecting, praying, meditating, and reading my bible more (I have an app for that, too).  I would spend the rest of the hour or so tending to my spiritual walk early in the day.  They were sweet, revealing moments indeed, and I was not doing it for any other reason than enrichment and pursuit of God.  I didn’t use the time to pray for my church or prepare sermons.  I didn’t use it to research biblical history or think about leadership strategies.  It was simply me and God having intimate time together and tending to the spiritual needs and counsel of this broken man.  People think ministers find such personal time easy, but that is simply not true for many of us.  It is easier to rationalize our study and prep time as “our time with God”.  Believe me, there is a difference between the two.

When I decided to go on to run 10K that time stopped.  My 10K training took longer.  It consumed more of my time.  It consumed more of my energy.  It consumed more of me altogether.  I was reveling in my accomplishment and leaving the spiritual exercise behind.  I was driven to achieve my goal and something had to go in order to get it done.  Like many of the people to whom I have ministered over the years, in order to achieve what I wanted to do, I let the spiritual discipline go.  It is a classic example of the flesh battling the spirit inside.  

I didn’t want to stop running farther, but I must.  I didn’t want to reduce my time on the run, but I must.  I didn’t want to feel like I am achieving less, but I must.  For now, it is 5K only for me.  Somewhere down the road I expect God will release me to pursue a new distance.  Until then I will perfect the one I have permission to do, and pursue new distances in my time with Him.

Ultimately, idolatry points back to self.  Even when the idols reflect something of greater power than our feeble humanity, it points back to self because it is the idol we have chosen for ourselves.  We have decided that it is our god, and that very act declares that we hold self as god even though we camouflage it with the image of something else.

1 Timothy 4:7-8

Discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness; for bodily discipline is only of little profit, but godliness is profitable for all things, since it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come.

Galatians 5:16-17

But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not carry out the desire of the flesh. For the flesh sets its desire against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; for these are in opposition to one another, so that you may not do the things that you please.

Why Can't I Just Love My Wife?

Last week was the beginning of my twentieth year of marriage.  I can’t believe how fast time has flown.  I keep thinking about how it feels to approach that life marker with the woman God so clearly revealed to me to be my bride.  It feels like such an accomplishment - I guess it is by today’s standards.  

Back when my two year anniversary came around, I was talking with a young lady my own age about her marriage.  This lady had been married the same amount of time, but was going through a terrible divorce and had experienced a hellish marriage.  I remember thinking that the years I considered the fastest  and happiest two years of my life were what she considered the longest and most painful of hers.  While I was thankful for the blessing of my marriage, I was saddened by the story she shared.

In contrast, my grandparents celebrated over 60 years of marriage to each other - I’m a third of that distance now.  In my time with them, I watched them practice what they preached.  I heard stories of their early years.  I heard them tell me about making ends meet and finding solutions when there were none.  I watched them love each other.  I watched them sacrifice for each other.  I watched them deal with difficult times with their children (and grandchildren).  I watched them in their frustrations.  I watched them in their disappointments.  I watched them in their tragedies.  I watched them lose their firstborn.  I watched them grow old and older together.  I watched one eventually lose the other as death parted them.  I watched them live an example of solidity that shames the generations that have followed.  They were such an example.

Before I was married and in the infancy years of my marriage, I remember distinctive comments made to my wife and me from time to time from other people.  They usually came from people who had been married much longer and were further down the road of life than the two of us - you would think that road would have provided them with more wisdom and encouragement than the words they often shared.

As a fresh couple experiencing the glow of happiness and enjoyment of our time together, I would often hear people say things like 

“You're just engaged right now... just wait, after you get married it’ll all change.” 

“Well, you're still in the honeymoon phase, just wait until you've been married a few more years...”  

“It’s just the two of you now, just wait until a kid enters the picture...”  

It seemed at every stage, there was another down the road scenario that was supposed to hold a sabotaging blow.  Though such comments were often in jest, I hated hearing them. They somehow assumed that the inevitable conclusion of my relationship with my wife would be less satisfying than envisioned.  What kind of encouragement is that?!?  I would try to counter with my own thoughts, convictions, and theories, but I was often dismissed as naive.

It bugged me hearing such things then, but as I look back now, I have an intense disdain for it.  Being married is challenging enough in the best of circumstances without adding to it the suggestion of future misery, mere tolerance, and unpleasantry.  Why can’t I just love my wife?  Why does there have to be some explanation outside of that for my happiness and joy in marriage?  Why does my expression and emotion have to be explained away by the absence of life add-ons like marital devotion, commitment, longevity, and a family?  Are those not some of the very things God cherishes?  Why are those things negatives?  Why are they somehow responsible for robbing love and passion?

I am well on my way down this marital road.  I don’t get such comments like that anymore because as a husband I have knocked the ceiling out of those statements.  

I AM married now - to the woman God set to be my wife.

I HAVE been married for “a few more years” now - I still love her.  I still love to be with her.  I still love to be around her.  I still love to laugh with her.  I still love to see her.  I still miss her when she is gone and l long for her return.

I DO have a kid in the picture - I have 5 kids in the picture.  Incidentally, that’s more in the quiver than any of the people who ever told me “just wait until you have children”.

What now?!?  What ‘cha got oh wise ones?!?

I’ve seen her without make-up --- I’ve seen her first thing in the morning --- I’ve experienced her during mood swings --- I've been on the receiving end of pregnancy hormones.  I imagine I have encountered all the superficial experiences that my “marital sages” of the day offered as future causes for fading sparks.  I love her still.

I’m sure there is a whole new list of “just waits”, but I don’t trust them.  I almost listed a few of them here, but decided it was pointless to do so.  It is not upon those things or circumstances that the foundation of my marriage is built.

I know I probably still sound naive in this, even belligerent, but at least now I have a little experience and personal credibility on the subject.  I have lived out some of what is to come, I have proved forgone conclusions to be false, and I welcome the years ahead, come what may. 

I love my wife. Period.

Ephesians 5:25

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her.

Looking Like A Runner, A Runner Does Not Make

 As I started to run, one of the things I deemed important was to dress the part.  If I’m going to be a runner, I need to LOOK like a runner, right?  I mean, come on! Nobody but the Duggars would run in jeans.

I have gear.  By gear I mean clothes.  By clothes I mean shirts, shorts and shoes.  That’s really all you need, a pair of shoes for running.  You could almost argue a biblical position of running naked by quoting some Hebrews 12 about casting off all that entangles, but that is stretching things a bit.

I have some sport shorts and a couple of those quick-dry work-out shirts.  One of the shirts seems a little small, but I figure when I lose all my gut weight it will fit perfectly to accentuate my anticipated physique.  I guess, to me, it is kind of like that special pair of jeans a woman aims for trying to get into upon reaching her goal weight.

I dressed out in all my gear the first day I ran.  I put on my special moisture drawing skivvies, my best work out shorts...not the tiny, little flappy kind, mind you, but long ones... my shirt, my earbuds plugged in, my shoes, and my work out app.  I felt relatively comfortable and confident that I looked the part.  Looking the part when participating in a new activity is extremely important - especially when trying to hide incompetence.

I was dressed like a runner, but a “runner” I was not.  

This leads me ask, what makes a runner?!?  Is it simply that I run? Is it because I have run for any reason in the past?  If so, then I have run into the ocean.  I ran after a ball in the street.  I’ve even run to the bathroom in a moment of desperation.  Really though, most of my past running has been from bullies in the early years; but all have been times of “running”.

Or maybe running is specifically defined by doing it for its own purpose, and not as a means of sudden travel.  So, is it the frequency?  Is it the consistency over time?  If so, how much time?  And, what if I stop, am I still a runner, or a guy who used to run? I haven’t water skied in a lot of years, but I consider myself a skier.  If I become a guy who used to run, what distinguishes between a guy who used to run and one who simply TRIED to run once?  How is all that measured?  I just don’t know.

I was sitting in a meeting not long ago while attending a Christian conference.  The facilitator was illustrating a point with a running analogy and asked if there were any runners in the room.  I didn’t know whether or not to raise my hand - this was eight and a half weeks into my consistent habit of running.  A couch potato would call me a runner, a marathoner would call me a rookie.  Some of my more candid friends would simply call me insane.

I continue to ponder on this thought of being a runner.  It seems to me that the level of my running does not determine my identity as a runner.  The fact that I run determines this, and I am beginning to recognize myself as a runner.  Ask any seasoned runner when they started running, and they will inevitably refer back to the day they took the first step.  They all have stories of what that was like, how hard or easy it may have been to them, obstacles they faced in the process, unexpected challenges, and the nourishment needed to fuel their efforts, but it started with the first step. 

Additionally, the fact that my body reflects the fruit of my running further confirms I am a runner; the fat trims down, my consumption changes, my endurance and stamina increases, my distance and speed gets farther and faster.  The results are obvious.  The results confirm the reality.  I am a runner, and soon I will run an actual timed race.  That will seal the deal for me.

Regardless of how one might define a “runner”, one thing is certain; my clothes did not make me one.  

Similar is the Christian journey.  So many experiences and encounters along the way prove the truth of our claim.  There are many people who get dressed up in their “religious gear” to mask mediocrity.  We see them at church, sometimes with smiling faces and names on their bibles.  We see them give their offering, not as a reflection of the gift God has given us, but because it is a practical tax write off in the moment, or an emotional tug that could have come from a stranded puppy as much as an imprisoned missionary.  Sometimes we hear them pray with hollow words of repetition that sound eloquent but are black holes of emptiness.  We see them nod at cliches and spiritual snippets that sound good but mean nothing.  They “like” it all, and engage in the appearances, but apply nothing to the working of their own lives.  They are chameleons blending into the environment in which they happen to find themselves.  Like the fig tree Jesus cursed, they bear no fruit in their lives.  They are chaff among the wheat.

Sadly, many probably think they are dressed for success in the Christian race and in the “full armor of God” as mentioned in Ephesians.  Perhaps they think they have upon them a helmet of salvation, but it’s more of a crown of personal glory than anything divine.  Maybe they have a belt, but it is a belt of deception, not of truth.  The breastplate is one of pride and not righteousness.  The feet are shod, not with soft soles of peace, but cleats, under which others find themselves trampled from disunity and criticism.  The shield they bear is not one of true faith, but one of false security rooted in self achievement and personal success.  And the sword?  They are strapped with an empty sheath because the Spirit of God does not exist in their lives.

Christians are known by their fruit.  It isn’t hard to point to fruit in the lives of godly people.  None of us point to the superficial, we point to things that are real.  The evidence is produced from a supernaturally transformed heart.  From death to life we rise.  

• We are not Christian because we dress in Christian morals and principles.
• We are not Christian because we dress ourselves in rituals and rites.
• We are not Christian because we dress ourselves in “righteous” and religious acts.

We are Christian because, and only because, we have been transformed in heart and mind by the supernatural, saving power of God through the work of Jesus Christ.

Matthew 23:27-28

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs which on the outside appear beautiful, but inside they are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness. So you, too, outwardly appear righteous to men, but inwardly you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.

Accountability - Take It, or Leave It?

I have not told many people about my running... 

One of the things about running, for me at this point, is that I MUST finish.  As each day [and now, each week] has been completed, a new sense of accomplishment and resolve has swelled over me.  It has been important for me to do this for reasons far beyond the two listed in my first blog on this topic (Weak One on Day 1).  My realization of things otherwise hidden in the recesses of my soul are being exposed - for some reason, this has been attached to my running.  I’m not sure I will communicate all of it, as some of it is quite personal [ironic considering this blog post discusses accountability].

I haven’t told many people about running until recently when I used it as a sermon illustration.  Until then, I was running early in the morning, sometimes right before light.  I wondered how many of my neighbors might see and ask me about it.  I know most of my neighbors - in a community such as ours, it’s hard not to.  I can easily identify more homes of people I know than homes I don’t along my running route.  Strangely enough, until this past week, no one has said anything to me about it.  I’ve liked it that way, too.  No accountability!!!!

That’s really what my shy secrecy boiled down to, no accountability.  But why?

Well, the obvious answer is the right answer - I didn’t WANT to be held accountable.  After all, what if if I didn’t keep up the activity?  What if I was just going to sudden extremes with an activity that really wasn’t going to stick?  If I told people about it, they might feel compelled to ask me about it.  If I kept it to myself, I didn’t have to deal with facing inability, embarrassment, failure or even quitting.  

This is so much like the Christian walk.  How many of us find ourselves NOT sharing aspects of our growth or commitments or need to improve in areas of our Christian lives because as soon as we do, we know someone might hold us accountable?  We seem to get in this mindset that flying solo in our walk with the Lord is somehow admirable.  A badge of honor, maybe.  I think it is an excuse.  It is an excuse that makes NOT following through easier.  It is easier to NOT race to finish.  It is easier to dip back into our sin of choice or tendency to be complacent.  It is an excuse that allows us a sense of security in an area with no real commitment if we change our minds.  If no one knows we are running to begin with, how can they very well know we have stopped?

It is a challenge to tell another about a personal commitment.  It is a challenge to be so vulnerable.  Vulnerability with others reveals a weakness in us that we assume other people don’t have or understand.  It is a challenge to say to another “look, I know I need to change in an area, and this is how I am attempting to do it”.  It is then also a challenge to face them if we think we are falling short.  

Accountability, real accountability, is always going to be challenging.  It is not to be confused with a group of people sitting in a circle talking about how often and how far they have fallen short and handing out milkshakes to comfort the sense of failure.  Those scenarios just turn into a cauldron of group justification in which everyone marinades.  No! Real accountability is in your face.  It drains the hot-tub of self justification and hands you a towel.  It screams like a coach and reminds you of your goal and desire.  It recognizes frailty without giving in to justify failure.  It builds upon the rubble and rises to the tough occasion of abrasive intervention.

I did tell a few people... very few.  I cautiously told specific people; mostly because I had to for one reason or another, not because I wanted to.  I told a seasoned runner friend because I was curious about shoes and I knew he could advise me in the right direction.  I told a physical therapist friend because I was dealing with some bodily pains and discomfort, and I knew he could help me understand what I was dealing with.  I told trustworthy family members because they are safe people to me, and they will encourage me no matter what.  All in all, what came tumbling back from each of them was nothing but encouragement and knowledge to help me in the process.  Each of them shares a certain commonality with me.  Each of them wants me to succeed.  Each of them is interested in what I’m doing.

That’s how it should be in our journey of faith.  We should be engaging people who are further seasoned in their walk with the Lord to encourage and guide us along the way.  Mature Christians know better than to ridicule a newer Christian’s efforts.  Mature Christians know better how to evaluate, disciple and mentor newer believers.  Mature Christians should be well equipped to help newer ones take steps in areas of commitment, growth, self-discipline, and maturity.  It is through those who have gone before us that we learn that it can be done, and how it is done.  

This is the very thing Paul did with new Christians and churches in the New Testament.  He held them accountable.  He was pretty brassy about it, too, often calling people out by name.  While holding Christians accountable, he strived diligently to be the example to others that they needed. He actually told some to look to him, and others like him, as the example.  In Philippians Paul wrote “Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us.”

Most of us are quick to say “don’t look at me as your example, you’ll be disappointed”.  That’s often either false humility or actual truth - either needs to be dealt with.  People desire authenticity from others.  They seek those who they know can help them in specific ways.  People need to be vulnerable with someone trustworthy and reliable.  People are looking to others as examples.  It is the very reason certain people are the first we call in a crisis, or for prayer, for guidance, for confession.  We all know those who, when the moment demands, we call as our go-to in our faith.  They hold us accountable, they tell us what we need - not what we want to hear, and they prove to be legitimate, always.

1 Corinthians 9:26-27

So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.

Weak One on Day 1

Not long ago, I resolved to get in better shape.  It all started because of a couple of things:

1)  I was playing with a group of children one Wednesday night to the sudden reality that I was severely out of breath within a couple of minutes, and I mean literally two minutes - this is a problem. 

I have young children of my own... very young children.  I routinely calculate out my age as they grow to the troubling awareness that they might have to visit me in the rest home to show me their diplomas when they graduate.

And........

2)  I saw a recent picture of myself sitting at a table full of food.  The picture was a candid shot, so I had not prepared myself by sucking in my gut and convincing the camera that I have a flatter waistline than I do.  Instead, I saw my slumped, poor postured body with a gut....my gut, larger than it should be, touching the table.  It was not a pretty sight to these eyes.

For these two reasons, both in the same week, I decided to make a change.

[It is at this point I feel I should express some sensitivity to others.  I know that I am a guy with a significantly rapid metabolism. I have always been thin.   Even in my times of major illnesses I was only 35 pounds heavier or so.  Most of my life I have been downright skinny.  I know that to complain about my size could be a little insulting [perhaps nauseating] to others striving to lose or maintain weight.  Please know, insult is not my intention.  My intention is to relay a story of personal deconstruction and observations from the journey I am still traveling.  At the same time, heathy is healthy, and out of shape is out of shape.  I am decidedly out of shape.]

So, on a Wednesday was the breathless dodgeball game.  Thursday of the same week was when the picture was taken, and Friday of the same week is when I woke up much earlier than usual with a terribly strong urge to run [insert Forrest Gump reference here].

Here’s the thing.....I don’t run!!!  I have said many times that I run only when chased.  Since I, and the bullies who tormented me in elementary and middle school, have since matured, I have no need to run from chasers.  

I have friends who run, though.  I see their posts on Facebook about the miles or times or races they have run, it seems to be everywhere.  It’s not quite as common as seeing what people have had for lunch, or the pics of summer temperatures, but almost as much.  It’s nowhere near as much as people going on and on and on about their own kids or quoting things they say - oh, wait.  

I must admit, I have somewhat made fun of such posts of runners [just to myself, until now] and have thought why in the world would anybody want to run when you’re not trying to escape?  Nevertheless, running is the notion I had waking up that Friday morning.

So, I have an app for this.  It’s one of those C25K apps [that’s ‘Couch to 5K’ for the not so exercise-app savvy out there].  This one claims to be the official one.  I don’t know if it is, and I really don’t care either; it has been a good app.  It is extremely user-friendly and downright idiot proof if you ask me.  Apparently I’m running for breast cancer because there is a pink ribbon on all the pages.  Either that, or this grown man is using a girls app.  Oh well.

The app starts training with gradual body conditioning that takes the user to the level of running a 5K in only 8 weeks.  Day 1 almost killed me!!!!!  It literally felt like I was going to die.... or, at least have a really bad situation on my hands.  I ended up in the ER that day, no joke.

Not only was I pasty looking and lightheaded, and my chest pounding with a racing heart, but the sharp pains piercing from front to back through my chest seemed almost unbearable.  I came home, tried not to be overly alarmed, shared the news with my RN wife, and was soon being driven to the hospital for tests.

I knew it wasn’t a heart attack, but I was concerned that I was experiencing blood clots in my lung - I’ve had them before and know what it feels like.  At the same time I felt so stupid.  How out of shape must I be that on day ONE of what I think has been as much a spiritual journey as a physical one, I find myself strapped to a heart monitor getting chest X-rays and a CT scan?  I didn’t even want to tell the doctor I had been exercising.  Could I even accurately say I had been “exercising”?  Does day one even count to say “exercising”, or is it just extra activity?  It’s really more like an orientation isn’t it?

I felt even dumber when he said everything looked to be okay.  He said “there could be very small clots in there, but the good news is, those never killed anyone.  Give it a couple of days, and see how you feel.”  I felt relieved, but still dumb.

I’d be lying if I said part of me wasn’t hoping he might tell me I shouldn’t try to run, that would feel like a relief.  It would be an excuse to quit that I could call a reason.  At the same time, I just felt like running was something I was supposed to do.  Personally, I feel like it has been a prompting of the Holy Spirit to do so, and is certainly why it has felt so spiritual to me.  That first day, though taxing and physically scary, was so exhilarating.  I can’t convey the way I felt when I was done [beyond the whole thinking I was going to die part].

As a result, I have been jotting down some of my observations through the process and thought I might share them here in multiple blog posts over time.  All of them together are too many for a single blog, especially from someone who might be called a long-winded preacher from time to time.

But hey, that’s the beauty of blogging - it’s win, win, win, win for everyone:

  

• I get to write about it, which I feel compelled to do - win for me.  
• I finally have activity again on what has otherwise been a dead blog - win for me (and maybe you).  
• You get to read it and laugh at me - win for you.  
• You don’t have to read if you don’t want to - win for you.  We all win.

So, for today, I suppose the observation is simple - starting anew is not always easy.  Whether it is in exercise, or our walk with the Lord, starting anew can sometimes feel more painful than doing the same thing we’ve been doing for so long.  

I told my wife, after going to the doctor [twice so far], that I was seeing the doctors less when I was slothful and lazy.  The truth is, there are pains that come with the progress, those pains remind us of the work it takes to get to a better place of existence.  I know I’m not where I want to be, but I’m not where I was either - physically or spiritually.  I just want to be a better version of me. 

1 Corinthians 9:24

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it.

I Hate My Job... sometimes

Sometimes I really, really hate my job.  My responsibility.  My calling.  My role.  Yesterday was one of those days... yet, the job must be done.

The job, the calling, the role, is parenting.  Being a parent is tough.  It is truly not for the faint of heart or the sap - especially when it comes to discipline.

I had to punish two of my boys; more extremely than a simple talk, sending to their rooms or taking something away for a while.  This was physical.  Yes, I am aware of the possible risk of publishing physical discipline in a blog.

Know this, we are spankers [you can say it like the Farmers Insurance commercials if you want - We ~ Are ~ Spankers! bum--bum,bum-bum,bum,bum].  I know that does not sit well with all parents, but I don’t care.  We are not abusive.  We do not punish in the heat of anger.  We use only a specific tool for the job - a paddle [not a belt, spoon, stick, water hose, inner tube, lit cigarette, etc.] all of those items have different jobs, and I do not use them to strike my children.  I know that sounds condescending and pointed; good.  I have strong opinions on various forms of physical discipline. 

Discipline is the point, of course.  The point is not to have an outlet to express my own frustration and anger, it is to correct and straighten my child’s incorrect behavior and understanding of what is acceptable.  Yesterday, I hated having to do that job.  I always hate having to do that job.

Two of my boys were disobedient with me to a degree that not only made me angry, but also seemed to indicate they had no care that they were out of line.  That is a huge problem.  It is one thing to need to modify behavior, and another thing entirely to modify attitude.  See, the minute my verbal instruction and cues are disrespectfully disregarded and then that behavior [and attitude] left unattended, a downward spiral of continuing disobedience and disrespect can ensue.  By itself, that moment of disobedience may be blown off by me as “no big deal”, but that demonstrates a lack of self discipline in me as a parent [and biblically you might say it also demonstrates a lack of love].  Over time that in itself "disciplines" them into an entirely different way of thinking.  As Barney Fife would have said, “you have to nip it in the bud.”  

We were 20 minutes away from home when I began my speech about how disappointed, angered and deeply bothered I was by what had just happened.  I could see it all over their faces, they knew they were in for it.

They knew that when we got home, they would be sent to their rooms immediately.  They knew they would sit their wondering what would be next.  Would Dad just come in and talk?  Would Dad take something away?  Or, would Dad come in with the spanking paddle?  

I guess to some degree I contemplated all of those things as well.  However, I knew.  I knew my step was to go in with the spanking paddle.  The sheer terror of that alone is disabling... for me that is.  It kills me to have to do so.  

I hate having to crack open that door and see a face change from hope to conclusion.  I hate seeing that instant when the reality of the next few moments sets in.  I hate the sound of the pleading, the crying, the begging for a stay of execution.  It makes my heart hurt.  Let me also clarify that these moments are actually pretty rare for our house.  There are many forms of penalty that we implement before and instead of spanking.  But sometimes...well, anyway.

I always know my plan before going in.  I also strike my own leg to remind me of the “feel” of the paddle and the sting produced.  This is a practice I have always done to reinforce and remind myself that it is the effect, not necessarily pain that matters.  That being said, it does hurt.  This form of punishment requires so much energy, and focus, and enough time to be correct in it.

The worst part, for me, is immediately following the punishment.  I dread what may come from the mouths of my children.  Are they going to scream that they hate me?  Are they going to declare that I don’t love them?  Are they going to weep in a pillow and refuse to listen to anything else I have to say?  So far none of that has happened.  None of those words have been verbalized.  Tears? yes. Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth? Dramatically yes.  Grabbing and rubbing their own booty?  indeed.  Saying things they regret?  No, never.

They will will ultimately come to me, sit next to me, climb into my lap, rest their head on me, snubbing (mostly from fear and anticipation more than actual pain), and then... they listen.  

This is where it all comes together.  This is when the effect of mature parenting and discipline must take place.  It is at that moment when the full lesson of the importance of self-discipline, obedience, and love is fully reinforced.  It is at this moment when they see an authoritative, stern, focused, restrained, and loving father communicate the importance of good personal judgement.

I always tell them how important my job as their Daddy is.  I always tell them how much I hate having to punish them.  I always tell them how much it hurts my heart.  I always tell them how much I love them.  And, I always tell them that I love them too much to allow them to get away with whatever they want.  And then, there is repentance.  There is forgiveness.  There is restoration.  There is course correction.  And there is peace.  

Most times, one of the greatest opportunities to demonstrate God’s attributes to our children is in times of discipline and course correction.  After all, God disciplines us as well... because He loves us too much to not correct our course.

Hebrews 12:5b-6; 11

5b MY son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor faint when you are reproved by Him; 6 for those whom the Lord loves HE disciplines, and HE scourges every son whom HE receives.

11 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.

A Little Box of Soap Today

Yesterday I was listening to a conversation between two men about duck hunting.  Of course, too far into a conversation about such things gets me a little lost.  I usually nod like I know what they are talking about and locations they reference, but usually I don’t.  I did pick up on one statement from one to the other about duck hunting with his son; “If you teach him to do it, you’ll never have to do it for him.”

The other man has been spending the last several years doing just that.  Teaching the skill.  I stood there for a moment thinking about the statement and wondering to myself if there is something to the sport of duck hunting that makes that statement especially significant.  I mean, that makes sense to me when I think of fishing and cleaning your own fish.  Who really wants to spend time cleaning someone else's catch?  But, isn’t that true with any type of game?  who wants to field dress (that’s a term I know) someone else’s deer?  I’ll just have to ask one of my hunting friends when I get the chance.

Anyway, as I stood there I began to think upon the wisdom of the statement when it occurred to me that such a precept is true in all areas of parenting.  I suppose it is the same concept of teaching a man to fish instead of giving him a fish (might as well stay with the sportsman metaphors).

I began to imagine what it would look like if I was still tying my 9 year old’s shoes.  What about when he is 20?  What if I were to still be hand feeding my daughter, as a perfectly heathy and capable little girl when she is 15?  Sounds stupid, I know, but this is the truth in other major developmental stages of parenting.  I know of parents who currently do the homework of their high school students...they literally do the work for them.  Are you kidding me?

I immediately began to think upon the application of this principle in other areas from the most basic tasks on:  Teach him to clean up after himself.  Teach him to manage his money.  Teach him how to relate to others.  Teach him how to think for himself.  Teach him how to exercise common sense.  Teach him how to read and write.  Teach him how to eat with utensils.  

So many dysfunctional parenting relationships have rolled out of childhood and into adulthood because the concept of teaching instead of doing has not been followed beyond the basic skills and into the more complex areas of living.  Too often this reality becomes a terribly enabling relationship between parents and their children, and sometimes the cycle is never broken.  In many cases, adult children still act like children because they have never been taught to be adults.  They have relied on a parent to do things for them instead of learning the skill.  Both suffer the difficult consequences of that arrangement.

I know my readers who have adult children may not agree, or may feel there is nothing to do about it now.  While I’m sure it feels that way, changes can be made; perhaps that is a discussion for another blog.  In the meantime, for my readers who still have younger, impressionable children in their care, be diligent in training them in all things of life and living.  What profit is there in being a champion duck hunter and a worthless husband or father?  

The Bible instructs us to train up our children in the way they should go.  Such instruction is not limited to learning to tie shoes, button coats, or use the correct duck call.  It is a direction of self worth, right living, integrity, and building character.  It is teaching them what it means to be a man or woman.  It is teaching them what it means to follow a godly code of living.  It is teaching them to be well rounded individuals ready for this thing called life and culture.  It is teaching them to be a contributor to family, church, and community... not filling in the void and making excuses for them over and over, and over, and over.....  

1 Corinthians 13:11

When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.