“For the moment discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.” --Hebrews 12:11 ESV

I always hated being disciplined as a kid. And I don’t say "hate" like I just shrugged off not having dinner, going to bed early, or even seeing one of my parents get the spatula out of the drawer and knowing what that meant. No, I mean "hate" like having knots in my stomach whenever I was caught in something I knew was wrong. But honestly, even the consequence wasn’t what scared me. I’m such a people pleaser to my core that knowing I had disappointed them at all ruined me. There is an intense drive in me toward perfection. Impressing. Never needing to be corrected. Obviously, that drive isn’t only to a fault, but it’s completely contrary to the Christward life. And when did I figure this out? Oh... I still am.

That Hebrews passage has been on my radar for a little while. The part about God’s discipline never fails to get my attention. I had always felt that whenever I was being disciplined or "pruned" by Him (John 15:2), it meant that I was experiencing His wrath. I had somehow ticked Him off, been caught in doing something wrong, and now had to pay for it. There are about a thousand things wrong with that last sentence, but I’ll just mention three: a) I imagine God first and only as being wildly emotional, instead of Him being holy and righteously responding when I’ve been unholy, b) that I can be "caught" by God as if He wasn’t Sovereign, and c) when I feel the hand of God pressing on my convicted heart when I’ve offended His holiness, why do I interpret that as His wrath, or, having to "pay" for what I’ve done?

"It is for discipline that you have to endure. God is treating you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline? If you are left without discipline, in which all have participated, then you are illegitimate children and not sons. Besides this, we have had earthly fathers who disciplined us and we respected them. Shall we not much more be subject to the Father of spirits and live? For they disciplined us for a short time as it seemed best to them, but he disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness." (Hebrews 12:7-10)

So, the discipline of God-—that is, any action that He takes to change my stubborn heart-—is a beautiful picture of His mercy. And, on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, Him leaving me alone would be way more wrathful than I could ever imagine.

I stumbled on a unique story about this very thing the other day. I’d been reading the book of Daniel, and started chapter four. This story is set during the Babylonian captivity of Israel. King Nebuchadnezzar the king of Babylon is the most powerful man in the world, ruler of the most powerful kingdom in the world. Daniel has gained favor with King Nebuchadnezzar by interpreting a dream that stumped everyone else. So, the king calls Daniel in one day to have him interpret another dream.

In the king’s dream, there was a tree that grew and became so strong that its top "reached the heavens" and all the beasts of the earth and birds of the air found shelter in it. And then he heard a voice ordering that the tree be cut down, but the stump of its roots be left, with a band of iron and bronze around it. The voice also called for the dew of heaven to cover it and a beast’s mind to be given to it for seven periods of time.

Daniel’s heart was heavy as he interpreted: "...the tree you saw... it is you, O king... this is the interpretation, O king: it is a decree of the Most High, which has come upon my lord the king, that you shall be driven from among men, and your dwelling shall be with the beasts of the field. You shall be made to eat grass like an ox, and you shall be wet with the dew of heaven, and seven periods of time shall pass over you, till you know that the Most High rules the kingdom of men and gives it to whom He will." (Daniel 4:20, 22-25)

What? Did Daniel really just tell the most powerful man in the world that God has decided to humble his heart and teach him truth—-discipline him—-by making him lose his mind?

Sure enough, a year goes by and King Nebuchadnezzar is walking on the roof of his palace, beholding his kingdom. In the heat of the moment (and in the giddiness of his prideful heart) he sighs and says, "Is not this great Babylon, which I have built by my mighty power as a royal residence and for the glory of my majesty?" (vs. 30)

The text says that even as the words were still in his mouth, the Lord’s word was carried out. King Nebuchadnezzar was given the mind of a beast and was driven into the wilderness. I love these last verses in chapter four that are, amazingly, the last recorded words about his life:

"At the end of the days I, Nebuchadnezzar, lifted my eyes to heaven, and my reason returned to me, and I blessed the Most High, and praised and honored him who lives forever, for his dominion is an everlasting dominion, and his kingdom endures from generation to generation… Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and extol and honor the King of heaven, for all his works are right and his ways are just; and those who walk in pride he is able to humble." (vss. 34-35, 37)

This is a strange story if I’ve ever heard one, but as I read it, my heart was so convinced of how serious our merciful God is about discipline. Not out of wrath, but out of MERCY, just as we see in the latter days of Nebuchadnezzar’s life. Yes, the mercy of God was nearly undetectable on the day the king of Babylon lost his mind along with everything else; but it was clearly revealed on the day he returned to his palace with a humble heart worshipping the Living God. Doesn’t that sound a bit like the Hebrews author’s words? "For the moment discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later…"

Father, please reveal to us the piercing truth of your Word; that you discipline those you love. Thank you for your desire to purify us and to make us holy as you are holy. I ask that you would give us the ability and wisdom to bless you as you discipline us, as well as when we’re on the other side of it. Holy Spirit, grow us enough to even ask for it, for we know we get more of You when there’s less of us. Thank you for this powerful sign of being your child. We love You, merciful Father! Amen.