No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
Hebrews 12:11
There are things in this life where we must do something first. There’s a requirement before you can do what’s next. Something has to happen; something needs to be achieved before another thing happens. We need to go through a door before we can get to where we need to go.
Before getting a college degree, there’s high school.
Before using a computer, there’s turning it on.
Before making a call, there’s connecting to a network.
Before driving a car, there’s getting the key.
And once we start doing something, there’s getting better at it. When we came into the world, we started learning a few letters. And then more letters. Individual letters then became a few small words. And then more words. Books were short with lots of pictures.
But then the words started getting bigger. Harder. More complicated. The books had fewer pictures and more pages. And one day we’re sitting in a classroom and the teacher puts a piece of paper in front of us. They call it a test. We have to answer questions about what we read.
None of this happens without teaching. Training. Education. Instruction. Correction. Or, in other words, discipline. The purpose of discipline isn’t just to fill our heads with facts and stuff.
Discipline has a purpose and goal. It’s to change us from who we are to what we can become. Discipline takes what we have and molds us. It brings in new skills and strength while throwing away what’s useless and weak. If we don’t change, then we’ve never been disciplined.
Change is painful. Building muscles requires lifting more than we’re comfortable with. We have to strain to get stronger. Learning a new skill means that we have to do something over and over again. And then do it some more. Again and again.
And while all this is going on, there’s only one guarantee. One truth that we’ll experience over and over. The truth is that discipline is painful. I’m sorry, but there’s no way to make it sound any better. It’s not any fun, but a lot of work. Hard work. Backbreaking, day after day repetition that just about shatters our soul.
So, why go through it? Why put up with the pain and irritation of discipline? Why not just quit and go home? After all, when we quit, so does the hurting. No more practicing the same thing over and over. No more sore muscles. No need to drink so much water or take Tylenol.
And for that matter, why listen to whoever’s trying to teach us? Listening to them is the reason that it hurts so much now. If we turn them off or walk away, the cause of all our discomfort also leaves. We can be left alone to go back to the way we were. No pain. Our agony will eventually only be a faint memory.
But that’s not what the Hebrews need to hear. Not what they need to do. They desperately must keep on staying faithful. Yes, the discipline is hard, even harsh. But there’s something coming that’s going to make it all worthwhile. There will come a day that they’ll be able to look back and say, “It was worth it.”
For the Hebrews, the writer isn’t just offering them some kind of spiritual lottery ticket. You know the kind; you just sit there and wait. You’re holding the ticket till they have a drawling on TV. And then you hope that you might win something. Anything.
This isn’t that kind of promise. It’s not that kind of hope-so. It’s a guarantee from God that a big harvest of righteousness and peace will come from. And while some of that promise might be way out in the future, God says that he’ll actively bring it to us in the hear and now. So, what’s this guarantee from God look like?
Righteousness. In Jesus, the judge of the universe has banged his gavel and said that we’re not guilty.
Peace. God will bring all the pieces of our lives, including all the pain, and make us whole again.
In the movie, Seabiscuit, Jeff Bridges talks about all that this horse has gone through. All it’s endured. Yes, he’s wone some races, but there’s more in front of him. And then he says the words that just send chills up and down my spine. “This isn’t the finish line; the future is the finish line[1].”
The same thing could be said about us and our pain. What’s happening to us right here and now isn’t the end. We need to be looking at the future where God makes all things new. When he remakes our bodies. When there’s a new heaven and earth. When he wipes away every tear and destroys death, mourning, crying and pain once and for all[2]. Then it will all be worthwhile, but not until we first go through it now.
Noodling Questions
What’s the most important “first thing” you do every day?
Who are the people that we should stop listening to? Why?
How has your opinion of pain changed over time?
[2] Revelation 21:4
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