Disciplines for Life/Train Yourself to be Godly

From Gospel Translations

Revision as of 19:14, 15 May 2008

Developing a relationship with God involves the same dynamics as any skill we might seek to develop. What does it take to master skydiving? The saxophone? Shuffleboard? The same three things it takes to become intimate with God: discipline, practice, and sacrifice.

Now, try to hold your applause. Is that what you expected? Many Christians, whether they would admit it or not, have some vague sense that intimacy with God will miraculously and effortlessly evolve. (Miraculously? In a sense, yes. But effortlessly? Absolutely not.) They believe in the power of the Holy Spirit and grace—as they should—but fail to see the importance of their own effort...

                                                   Discipline...

                                                                  Practice...

                                                                                Sacrifice.

Practice Precedes Performance

Once when I was a young boy the NCAA college basket- ball finals were held nearby at the University of Maryland. Because my friend’s father had tickets, I was able to go to the game as well as the practice session the day before. John Wooden, one of the greatest coaches in college bas- ketball history, had again led his UCLA team to the semi- finals. The opportunity to get right down on the court and watch this team practice at this level was the closest thing to heaven I had experienced up to that time.

I was a serious sports fan even then, and these UCLA players who came out of the locker room and began their drills were some of my heroes. But the practice session turned out differently than I had expected. There were no slam dunks or behind-the-back passes. Instead, for two hours Coach Wooden rotated his players through numerous drills up and down the court, timing each drill and then moving on to the next. It wasn’t exciting. There was no applause, no roar of a capacity crowd. This was all taking place primarily outside of public view.

Their practice was simple and unimpressive—but it’s what prepared UCLA to be so effective as they swept their final two games and won the national championship.

Announcers usually overlook details like that. Instead of describing all the sweat and practice that went into a brilliant performance, they tend to focus on the talent and ability of individual players. Now there’s no doubt today’s star athletes are gifted. I could spend the rest of my life in training and at no point would I be able to do an effective job of covering Michael Jordan. But if you talked to Jordan or Coach Wooden’s UCLA team, they would tell you their public display of astonishing basketball was made possible by the practice which took place in private.

Because such truths so often go ignored and unappreciated in our culture, we can fail to see that skill is of little value without practice and sacrifice. Apart from a private life of sacrifice, discipline, and daily practice—no matter how monotonous—even the most gifted individual will never reach peak performance.

World-class performers are those who count the cost and press on. They don’t pity themselves for having to sacrifice time with friends, restrict their diets, or miss the latest cultural attraction. They understand what’s required. They understand their need for a demanding daily regimen of practice in order to maintain their edge of excellence and achieve their goal.

If we’re serious about deepening our relationship with God and growing in godliness, we will study the private disciplines that helped make Christ effective in public. He is the perfect example. If we can discern and practice those disciplines, we’ll see results.

Working Out in the Wilderness

In the fourth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, beginning in verse one, we find our Lord showing the kind of spiritual strength we’d like to have. Three times Satan tempts him. Three times Jesus turns him away. It’s a brilliant performance, a total domination.

Yet our Lord’s success was the result of serious preparation: “Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil. After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry” (Mt 4:1-2). These two sentences are very short. It’s easy to read them quickly, completely missing the fact that they reveal the source of Jesus’ strength. Let’s examine them and see what we can learn.

First, Jesus was led by the Holy Spirit. Having learned to wait on the Father for insight and direction, he was very familiar with the Spirit’s prompting when it came. That is why, even though the wilderness was not a desirable place to go, when the Spirit directed Jesus there, that’s where he went.

He also prepared for his upcoming confrontation by fasting forty days and forty nights. No Big Macs, no Doritos—not even locusts and wild honey. We’re talking spiritual discipline. And unlike today’s hunger-strikers, he didn’t have the national media to cheer him on. He was alone— hungry and alone—for forty days and nights. Discipline...Practice...Sacrifice.

It seems to me Matthew may have been engaging in understatement there in verse 2: “...after which he was hungry.” You better believe he was! Not to mention weak. Why would Jesus put himself in such a vulnerable condition before this head-to-head confrontation with Satan? Because he knew that while fasting would weaken his body, it would make him strong in spirit.

I think Jesus spent much of those forty days meditating I think Jesus spent much of those forty days meditating on Scripture. Each time Satan tempted him, he responded with a quote from the book of Deuteronomy. It’s my guess that Jesus, reading through his Old-Testament-In-A-Year plan, had wound up in this often-neglected book. Because he was meditating on these passages, he was able to utilize three appropriate verses, wielding them as the sword of the Spirit.

Can we understand and appreciate the effort involved here? Do we under- stand the relationship between Christ’s private preparation and his public performance?

Although Jesus overcame Satan’s attack in the wilderness through preparation in private, a very different temptation awaited him when he began to minister publicly. Luke records our Lord’s response to the pressure of popularity: “Yet the news about him spread all the more, so that crowds of people came to hear him and to be healed of their sicknesses. But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed” (Lk 5:15-16). It would have been so easy for him to be manipulated by the limit- less number of legitimate needs. Instead, he sought his Father in private. It didn’t take the disciples long to see that he was intimate with and dependent on his Father; morning by morning he went to a solitary place where he could listen, meditate, and worship. These disciplines weren’t an obligation for him—they were his passion. And they were the means by which he received grace to fulfill his ministry and eventually die on the cross.

These passages are only two examples. Unlike today’s sports announcers, the Gospel writers recognized the source of Christ’s strength and repeatedly documented his practice of the disciplines. Yet we rarely highlight these verses in our Bibles. They are easily overlooked. We need to identify and study them as a description of our Lord’s daily lifestyle. If we want to emulate Christ’s on-the-field performance, we must imitate his off-the-field preparation.

Partners in the Process of Change

Let’s now look at two verses which, at face value, seem to give conflicting clues as to the source of our power to live like Christ.

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit” (2Co 3:17-18). Freedom, as Paul uses it here, implies a freedom from selfishness, freedom from self-gratification, freedom to serve God, freedom to serve others. Also note the word “transformed”—we’ll see that stressed again shortly.

This passage emphasizes the necessity of the Holy Spirit in the transforming process. An inner work is needed. It begins with our regeneration—an exclusive work of God—and continues as the Holy Spirit conforms us to the image of Christ.

While only the Spirit can bring about change, God has also given us a vital role in this continuing process of transformation. Paul identifies our responsibility in Romans 12:2: “Do not conform any longer to the pat- tern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

How are we transformed? By the renewing of our minds. This verse is a clear command. If the Spirit is going to transform us, we must first put ourselves in a position to be transformed by devoting ourselves to the spiritual disciplines, for it is by these that our minds are renewed.

At this point, it would be easy to become confused or misled if we do not keep clearly in mind the distinctions between justification and sanctification, and the role we play in each. Justification occurs—all at once—when we are converted. It is completely and exclusively an act of God. We make no contribution to our justification whatsoever except, as Luther said, our sin which God so graciously forgives. No amount of Bible study, prayer, or fasting can ever become the basis for our justification before God, for we have been declared righteous by God solely on the basis of the person and finished work of Jesus Christ.

Once we become Christians, however, the gradual process of sanctification (becoming more like Christ) and the renewing of our minds begins. In this, God is still the central player—the now-indwelling Holy Spirit continually gives us the grace to obey, without which we would live in constant rebellion against God—yet our degree of obedience to God’s commands makes a genuine difference, both in this life and for eternity.

So, first we are justified through Christ alone. Then, the purpose and evidence of our justification is a life of obedience and spiritual growth (sanctification). That’s what it means to be a disciple, a disciplined one. Conversion is only the beginning. Our call is to follow Jesus and to reflect his character.

Don’t Let Go!

“Have nothing to do with godless myths and old wives’ tales; rather, train yourself to be godly” (1Ti 4:7). The last five words of this verse contain three essential insights for us as we explore the spiritual disciplines. First, note the goal. It’s not happiness. It’s not success. The goal is godliness. Now that doesn’t sell many Christian books, and it certainly doesn’t fly on most Christian television, but the Church of Jesus Christ should be characterized by people whose primary motivation is godliness. Rather than making every decision in pursuit of personal prosperity and career advancement, they live for God’s glory, placing godliness and servant- hood above material gain.

Second, consider the word “train.” Paul used the Greek word gymnadzo from which we get our word “gymnasium.” He chose this term intentionally. The dedicated athlete and the dedicated Christian both submit to intensive training and self-discipline. They spend long hours in private honing their skills, reflexes, and concentration. But where the athlete seeks honor, the Christian seeks intimacy.

Third, this verse—like Romans 12:2—places the responsibility for training squarely in our court. Don’t ask God to train you. He won’t do it. Believe me, I’ve asked many times. Instead, he’ll point you to your spiritual gymnasium with the same advice Paul gave young Timothy: Train yourself!

The once-popular, pseudo-spiritual advice to “Let go and let God” may be offered with good intentions, but it’s completely unbiblical. A cooperative effort is required. Though God is the one who began and sustains this good work in us (Php 1:6), he commands our participation in the process of sanctification.

I try to work out at the YMCA three times a week. In the years during which I’ve kept that schedule, I can’t remember ever desiring to go. My body has never communicated, “Hey, let’s get there early today! And do a double routine!” Just the opposite. “Don’t become a fanatic,” it argues. “You worked out two days ago. We need another rest. How about tomorrow? How about if we only go twice this week?” Only because I’ve determined ahead of time that the benefits are worth the pain do I end up going.