Among the curiosities of the post-enlightenment, post-Christian era is the degree to which the role of discipline in human community has fallen upon hard times. Standards and limits, it would seem, have no place in a culture that has seen the circling of planets and the exploration of the world under the seas in less than one century. We have made such a virtue of the ability to “think outside the box” that we have effectively demolished the sides of the proverbial box in the process. In that view, then, discipline becomes nothing more than putting up limits where none need exist. Yet few of the wonders of our age would exist without the disciplined efforts of their discoverers, men and women who never quite lost sight of where the box was or when to return to its bounds.
The community of faith in recent times has also adopted a rather negative assessment of discipline as judgmental, confining, punitive and incompatible with grace. Yet the Church’s history has demonstrated a universally positive impact of the right use of discipline. Is there still a place for ecclesiastical discipline within the contemporary or future church? If we think of the role of discipline as a gift from the gracious hand of God to his people, can we perhaps recover its rightful place among us? The writer to the Hebrews must have been confronting similar tensions in the congregation to prompt these words: “For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant; later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.” (Hebrews 12:11, RSV)
A Necessary Component of Human Development
Much contemporary research into the way the human brain functions to make us who we are centers on how newborns and young children acquire the necessary knowledge for making sense of and relating to their world. It seems that our brains become established in well-worn paths by a series of explorations—some voluntary, many involuntary—into the fine art of defining consistent boundaries. A child learns early where the line is drawn between self and other, the rules of cause and effect, the distinctions of pleasant and unpleasant results, acceptable and unacceptable behavior. Such an ongoing learning process is equally true of physical, social and moral development.
This process of disciplined growth, continual correction by the presence of the boundaries and our interaction with them, is evident in the biblical record. In both the Old and New Testaments, the language of discipline (yasar in the Hebrew and paideia in the Greek) carries the concepts of correction and teaching toward the end of the wholeness of life. Rather than the negative idea of punishment, biblical discipline becomes the positive method by which those who have wandered outside the boundaries are turned back from destructive paths and redirected toward the fullness of God’s purpose for them. A life thus shaped is always God-defined rather than self-defined.
The Act of a Loving God
From the moment our first parents appeared on the earth, God acted to protect them and to keep them directed to his holy purpose by establishing a boundary between them and the source of the knowledge of good and evil. That knowledge, without the capacity to overcome evil, was bound to make humans miserable. Knowing what God knows without also having the power God has is a recipe for destruction. In that interaction they learned to draw the line between God and humanity.
God’s decision to remove his rebellious children from the garden has historically led us, their descendants, to characterize the expulsion as the punishment of a vengeful power. Yet Genesis does not convey God’s anger. Inquiring into the circumstances that caused the man and woman to hide from him, God moves first to clothe them before establishing the next boundary. The source of life is now off limits to them because God chooses not to allow (or perhaps compel) them to live forever in the misery that their actions inevitably unleash on the world. In what may be God’s only intentional abrogation of human freedom, he makes sure they cannot transgress that boundary (the forbidden tree of life) by surrounding it with his spiritual protection. They cannot return to the garden. They have come to learn that eternal life is only desirable in the presence of God. These are acts of love, not of vengeance; acts of correction and instruction, not of arbitrary reprisal.
The most obvious account of God’s established boundaries is found in the giving of the commandments. The ten on the tablets set the basic limits by which we are to relate to God and to one another. The remainder of the Mosaic code represents the inspired efforts of the community of God’s chosen to refine and apply the dynamics of the original list. Through generations of transgression, discipline, repentance, forgiveness and reclamation the people of Israel learned what living according to God’s purpose could mean, as well as the meaning of thwarting those purposes.
Jesus as Loving Disciplinarian
Many of our most beloved stories of Jesus’ ministry cast him in the role of divine teacher. Supporters and detractors alike addressed him as rabbi, a title that conveyed all the dimensions of a beloved instructor. If we are honest with ourselves we will acknowledge that those teachers from whom we learned the most were the ones who not only imparted information, but also set standards, corrected mistakes, and held us accountable for amending our behaviors. Jesus was just such a teacher. While the lessons he taught sometimes seemed harsh, their goal was always to restore his students to the right relationship with God.
Jesus methods sought to re-establish some standards and redefine others in the minds of his hearers. In the temple precincts he taught the money changers (and a few spectators) in an unforgettable way the meaning of prohibitions against stealing, honoring the Sabbath, the holiness of God. Many of Jesus’ direct confrontations with the Pharisees were intended to help them understand how their accommodating interpretations of the law were actually perversions of God’s intentions in giving the Law. Throughout the parables, the rather dire consequences of disobedient behaviors demonstrated to his students that amendment of life was possible, that faithfulness was always more desirable than the short-term gains of faithlessness.
Ecclesiastical Discipline as Loving Legacy of the Holy Spirit
In the post-resurrection appearance as recorded in John’s Gospel, Jesus first invited the disciples to receive the Holy Spirit, then gave them the authority and the responsibility of the exercise of discipline within the emerging mission of the community of disciples. “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” (John 20:23) In classical theology this is known as the “power of the keys”, but it is no indiscriminate power. Rather it is a reminder to the disciples that, because they possess the power of the gospel message, they also bear the responsibility for bringing others to a knowledge of Christ’s saving work. In Christ repentance, forgiveness, regeneration are all available. Therefore, no one must be captive to sin. Yet in order that we might be led to repentance, we must know the boundaries God has set for us and the ways in which we have violated those boundaries. This is the responsibility of those entrusted with the care of Christ’s Church, guided by the Spirit.
No wonder John Calvin set his discussion of this “power” in the context of his book on the Means of Grace. (Institutes, Book IV) We understand the dimensions of God’s grace and the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ when another believer helps us to confront that reality. The Church in every age has been equipped by the Spirit and charged with the responsibility of conveying the means by which we understand that truth. Ecclesiastical discipline is one way by which we are called and enabled to appropriate that reality as our own. We are to bring the corrective and instructive elements of the gospel to bear on those within our community who have placed themselves outside the established boundaries to the end that those outside the community may find our life compatible with our message.
Indeed there is precedent for understanding the exercise of community discipline in the stories of the Old Testament assemblies of God’s people. Aaron the priest, entrusted with the care and direction of the children of Israel while they waited for Moses to return from the mountain, made the decision to allow the people to do whatever they wanted with respect to the idol they wished to build. He actually helped them do it, bringing his own expertise to the project to create the golden calf. Aaron labored under the assumption that his role was to serve the people rather than to serve God. His response to their demands suggests that correcting their misunderstandings of faithful worship was not in his job description as he understood it. Moses’ question on returning is most telling: “What did this people do to you that you have brought a great sin upon them?” (Exodus 32:21, emphasis added) It was Aaron’s responsibility as God’s representative to help them distinguish God’s holy will from human self-serving willfulness. Did Aaron hate these folks so much that he would refuse them instruction in the right? It is not a loving act to tolerate sin.
Matthew records that Jesus even established a method for correcting offenses within the fabric of church’s life. The early church also understood the value of this kind of loving discipline. The Acts of the Apostles shows that the earliest communities had as much difficulty with the disobedience of believers as they did with the persecutions of hostile elements in the surrounding culture. Much of Paul’s correspondence had to do with instructing his readers in those areas of their individual and collective behavior which served to compromise the community’s witness in the world.
The State of Discipline in the Church Today
“As the saving doctrine of Christ is the soul of the church, so does discipline serve as its sinews, through which the members of the body hold together, each in its own place.” (Calvin, Institutes IV.xii.1) Calvin may have been writing those words for us, for it seems that a primary question in the church of today is: “Can the body hold together?” Across denominational lines there is a great concern that the fault lines within the churches are compromising the witness to a world in need of the gospel. It would seem then that discipline and discipleship have more than simply an etymological relationship. Correction and instruction are to lead us to honor Christ’s boundaries, to follow his path. “Therefore, all who desire to remove discipline or to hinder its restoration—whether they do it deliberately or out of ignorance—are surely contributing to the ultimate dissolution of the church.” (Calvin)
Two things seem to hinder the right exercise of discipline for modern church people. The first is cultural, the second grows out of the heart of the theological enterprise. We live in a consumer age which has infected every aspect of our lives including our religious life; we are no longer schooled in the “saving doctrine of Christ” nor can we agree on its truth claims. The movement of the consumer mind, to which not even Christians are immune, leads us to find a compatible message at the expense of communal relationships which would allow for mutual accountability. If I don’t like what one church has to offer, I may go elsewhere. Even absenting oneself from organized religion is an option when one can get a spiritual fix from the television or the library. The Internet assures us that virtual community is an acceptable substitute for physical community, and far less demanding of our faithfulness. In that scenario we need not acknowledge any boundaries, nor anyone’s claim to tell us where they are.
Coincidental with the consumer mindset is the growth of theological relativism. Truth has become negotiable within the framework of human experience. The substance of belief is individualized. Is our need for salvation an indispensable teaching at all? We seem to have substituted a personal definition of Christ for a personal relationship with him. Therefore, what Christ has taught only has value if the individual believer finds it valuable. Since we cannot agree on the meaning of the gospel, specifically on the person and work of Jesus Christ, we don’t feel bound by its constraints. We will not accept doctrinal correction if we cannot affirm a common doctrinal standard.
In the midst of these forces the church seeks a renewing and unifying word of hope. Our passionate desire is for the health of the Body of Christ. As we await God’s timing, we can be bold enough to hold one another accountable, and humble enough to be accountable to God’s instruction. We will no longer absolve ourselves of this necessary work on the grounds of universal sinfulness. If we still have the grace-filled will to care enough about sisters and brothers to seek their good rather than their approval, our future is secure.
This article first appeared in Theology Matters, Vol. 4, No. 2 (Mar/Apr 1998).
