Hebrews 12:5–7
I’ve ridden a bicycle across the state of North Carolina. Twice. Mostly.
In full disclosure, we didn’t cross the entire state. In fact, a good chunk of the ride was in South Carolina, but that’s beside the point. Two days on each trek. Up and down the rolling hills of the Carolina Piedmont on the way to the coast. One hundred and fifty miles on a heavy, iron-framed, used bicycle in the sweltering humidity and heat of mid-September. It was unbearable and nearly physically broke me. But we did it.
My father had (for reasons that remain unknown and mysterious to me) decided that it would be a great bonding exercise for him, myself, and my younger brother. We were going to support a national nonprofit organization’s fundraising efforts by riding in their 150-mile event. He enrolled us and promised it would be a lot of fun and push us to do something significant together. Looking back, he was right. But the fun and the significance of it, even 30 years later, is also remembered alongside the agony.
To be able to ride a bike 150 miles in the course of two days requires significant stamina and energy. It’s not a thing that most of us can get up in the morning and decide on a whim to do that day. It requires preparation, training, and—dare I say—discipline.
So Dad took my brother and me out on longer and longer training rides through the hot summer to train our bodies. They weren’t optional. They weren’t fun. These training rides were discipline, but they developed a capacity and an ability to actually enjoy 150 miles of biking to the beach.
The 40 days of Lent are a slog for people like me who are used to the instant gratification and immediate reward lifestyle of our current culture. Yet the effort of observing a season of repentance, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving to increase my affections for Jesus is worth it. Just like my father’s grueling training rides, enduring under a set of disciplines for a season prepares us for greater joy at the Resurrection. They may even help us find greater joy in the here and now as we journey by faith to the New Jerusalem.
The writer of Hebrews understands the dynamic of our need for discipline and the Father’s good and holy purposes for us. We’re encouraged to not disregard or belittle the processes and practices of discipline God puts us under. When corrected, even rebuked, we’re encouraged not to grow weary of the process of formation. Ultimately, the application is for us to “endure hardship as discipline” (Heb. 12:7). The discipline of God is for our good, and to avoid, spurn, or reject his careful formation of us is to circumvent becoming like Christ.
Yet there is more to discipline than just getting better or stronger. Enduring the hardship and correction the Lord places us under is a sign of a unique identity we have from God. Hebrews 12:6–7 tells us, “The Lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son … God is treating you as his children.”
When we experience the hardship of spiritual discipline and correction, we’re really experiencing the loving training and formation of the Father. We’re not prison inmates being punished for our crimes, nor unruly students being barked at by an uncaring teacher. We’re beloved children being shaped into mature saints, able to experience surprising resilience and sustained joy until we are together with our Father forever.
Biking to the beach, and all the training rides along with it, built a lasting memory with and affection for my father, even if it took blood, sweat, and tears—the stuff of enduring hardship—to attain. The hardship and discipline from our heavenly Father will build a lasting capacity for joy and eternal delight when he brings us home. Don’t lose heart, nor be weary.
Jeremy Writebol serves as lead campus pastor at Woodside Bible Church in Plymouth, Michigan, and is executive director of Gospel-Centered Discipleship. He has authored several books including Pastor, Jesus Is Enough. He is married to Stephanie and has two children.
Related
