". . . My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him: For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not? But if ye be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and not sons. - Hebrews 12:5 – 8
In high school, around age 14 or 15, I joined the track team. One evening after practice, my Dad met me outside our home. He had heard I misbehaved in some way and asked if I had done what I was accused of. I said I had, and with that, he stated I would need disciplining, which usually meant a whipping with the old belt.
I’d been punished by him before and it wasn’t something I relished. It had been a while since the last time he had disciplined me so I must have thought I had outgrown the necessity for it. Foolishly, I countered his proclamation with, “You’ll have to catch me first!” and broke into a quick sprint as if a starting gun had fired.
"Free!" I thought . . . but no. I had only made a few strides when my Dad’s grasp jerked me back accompanied by his words “You’re not going anywhere!” Needless to say, I received a more severe whacking than previously intended.
At the time, I had no idea what a sacrifice he had made for me. Now, I realize he disciplined me for two good reasons; First, for the original violation. Secondly, to keep me in check, reminding me that I was never too far from his watchful care. He was committed to breaking the rebellious streak that desperately needed to be exorcised from my spirit.
I don’t recall the form of discipline or the associated pain but I do remember a discussion he and I had several years later. We were mending relational fences and making peace with one another, me as a young family man and he as an aging father who saw his shortcomings in raising me.
I asked him if he recalled the incident and, surprisingly, he did. I asked him how he managed to catch me when I knew I held the advantage of youth, speed and the element of surprise for a healthy lead. I’ll never forget his answer. He said, “I had to, otherwise I would have lost you forever.”
For my father, the price of my waywardness was too high. In his youth a car accident had broken his back. Then, determined to serve his country in WWII, he received further injuries from being blown out of a foxhole. He knew what it was to live in constant pain. In the ensuing years the doctors told him he would never walk again. By then he had a wife and family to support, so he sought the Great Physician. God heard his prayers and he continued walking till his last day on earth, just short of his 90th birthday.
Like all good fathers he counted the cost and reached out to save me from myself. Even though he may not have known the principles, God had been working in him since his conversion around the time of my birth. As Philippians 1:6 states, “. . . I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” He had learned a few things over the years and God continued to train and instruct him as He does with all His children. “No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.” (Hebrews 12:11)
Back in my foolish youth I didn’t see it, but my Dad was showing me love in a tangible form. There are times now that I am greatly disappointed in myself for not doing right when I should know better. But as with my earthly father, Gods loving discipline says something. It may not be comfortable at the time, but it’s reassuring to know “. . . the Lord disciplines the one he loves . . .” (Hebrews 12:6). Now that’s tangible love.
In high school, around age 14 or 15, I joined the track team. One evening after practice, my Dad met me outside our home. He had heard I misbehaved in some way and asked if I had done what I was accused of. I said I had, and with that, he stated I would need disciplining, which usually meant a whipping with the old belt.
I’d been punished by him before and it wasn’t something I relished. It had been a while since the last time he had disciplined me so I must have thought I had outgrown the necessity for it. Foolishly, I countered his proclamation with, “You’ll have to catch me first!” and broke into a quick sprint as if a starting gun had fired.
"Free!" I thought . . . but no. I had only made a few strides when my Dad’s grasp jerked me back accompanied by his words “You’re not going anywhere!” Needless to say, I received a more severe whacking than previously intended.
At the time, I had no idea what a sacrifice he had made for me. Now, I realize he disciplined me for two good reasons; First, for the original violation. Secondly, to keep me in check, reminding me that I was never too far from his watchful care. He was committed to breaking the rebellious streak that desperately needed to be exorcised from my spirit.
I don’t recall the form of discipline or the associated pain but I do remember a discussion he and I had several years later. We were mending relational fences and making peace with one another, me as a young family man and he as an aging father who saw his shortcomings in raising me.
I asked him if he recalled the incident and, surprisingly, he did. I asked him how he managed to catch me when I knew I held the advantage of youth, speed and the element of surprise for a healthy lead. I’ll never forget his answer. He said, “I had to, otherwise I would have lost you forever.”
For my father, the price of my waywardness was too high. In his youth a car accident had broken his back. Then, determined to serve his country in WWII, he received further injuries from being blown out of a foxhole. He knew what it was to live in constant pain. In the ensuing years the doctors told him he would never walk again. By then he had a wife and family to support, so he sought the Great Physician. God heard his prayers and he continued walking till his last day on earth, just short of his 90th birthday.
Like all good fathers he counted the cost and reached out to save me from myself. Even though he may not have known the principles, God had been working in him since his conversion around the time of my birth. As Philippians 1:6 states, “. . . I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” He had learned a few things over the years and God continued to train and instruct him as He does with all His children. “No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.” (Hebrews 12:11)
Back in my foolish youth I didn’t see it, but my Dad was showing me love in a tangible form. There are times now that I am greatly disappointed in myself for not doing right when I should know better. But as with my earthly father, Gods loving discipline says something. It may not be comfortable at the time, but it’s reassuring to know “. . . the Lord disciplines the one he loves . . .” (Hebrews 12:6). Now that’s tangible love.
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