Of love and discipline...

I remember this conversation so clearly; 'Erica, there is a difference between punishment and discipline - we want you to discipline.'

That sounded simple enough, I was more than willing to call the consequences of disobedience discipline if it would please my superiors. I was working at camp that summer and had a cabin full of girls who excelled in the area of disobedience, in such a way that you slept with one eye open. Whether I was breaking up fights, discovering hidden beer bottles or addressing an overall lack of respect I was furiously ready to 'discipline.' I even had the method for this 'discipline' in mind - I had decided that these hellions were going to pick rocks by hand in the horse arena in the heat of the day. It was perfect; it would exhaust them and hopefully put a damper on their abundant supply of schemes.

I presented the 'discipline' to the camp director, expecting some praise for my ingenuity and empathy for my ongoing suffering, only to hear that my proposal wasn't discipline. Rather my proposal was punishment and it would not become discipline until I chose to go with them and work along side them. It would be discipline if I endured the consequences with them.

'WHAT!' - this did not fit in my understanding of justice, I had done nothing wrong and now I was sentenced to the same consequences as they were. But, I was challenged in my love for the girls, did I love them in the midst of their hurtful words and actions, in the midst their blatant disrespect to discipline them so they would grow? Did I love them enough to walk along side them experiencing the same consequences of their discipline so they would know that they were loved?

To Adam he said, "Because you listened to your wife and ate from the tree about which I command you, 'You must not eat of it'

Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat of it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of you brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.'"...

And the Lord God said, "The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever. So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken. After he drove the man out, He placed on the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the tree of life.

I find it completely fascinating that God did not stay in the Garden of Eden, that He did not remain in the heavens. God banished Adam and Eve away from the garden, sealed off all entrances and joined them in the harsh realities of their discipline. God loved them that much - enough to endure the consequences with them so they may grow and ultimately lead to salvation through Christ.

I am currently struggling with God - and have been for a long time. Often during these times I banish myself from His presence. I punish myself, unaware, that God does not punish, but He disciplines - and He walks softly with me through my self imposed exile.

That summer I did discipline my girls. I spent hour upon hour stooped over picking rocks with them. And as I did I loved them more than I thought possible. Ironically they were unable to see my love, for the most part, they saw only the rocks in front of them. Yet, together we persevered, and on the last day, one girl - the hardest heart of all - came to me angry, with her fists flailing dangerously close to my head, and in an outburst of past hurt and tears she told me she loved me too. The sweetness of the moment, still moves my heart - because she was precious to me.

And as I consider that I realize in my moments outside the Garden of Eden, perhaps I am more precious to God than I can understand - in my past hurts and tears, in my ignorance and disobedience, with my fists flailing in childish exasperation I desperately cry out that I love HIM. I am just not always sure what that means, or what that looks like. I am certain, however, regardless of whether I wander the desert or kneel before His throne, He will discipline me with a deep, deep love.