Muscle Memory of the Soul--October 6, 2021
"Endure trials for the sake of discipline. God is treating you as children; for what child is there whom a parent does not discipline? If you do not have that discipline in which all children share, then you are illegitimate and not his children. Moreover, we had human parents to discipline us, and we respected them. Should we not be even more willing to be subject to the Father of spirits and live? For they disciplined us for a short time as seemed best to them, but he disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share his holiness. Now, discipline always seems painful rather than pleasant at the time, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it." [Hebrews 12:7-11]
I don't think I ever realized how much Christian spirituality I was learning when our family rented the hot new (at the time) VHS cassette of that 1980s classic, The Karate Kid. But, wow, now that I look back, there was a surprising amount of theology and faith formation going on in our childhood family room once upon a time.
The basic story of The Karate Kid is now so well rehashed that the original 1984 classic (starring a young Ralph Macchio and the unforgettable Pat Morita as Mr. Miyagi) has spawned several sequels, reboots with new actors and the same basic plot, and a spin-off TV show called Cobra Kai. And probably the best-known beats of that story are when young Daniel seems to be only doing chores for Mr. Miyagi, only to find out that he has been learning the basic forms of the martial arts moves he'll need to win the big tournament at the climax of the movie. A whole generation of kids grew up on Daniel learning, "Wax on, wax off," and the circular hand motions that went with waxing the car, and then discovering from Mr. Miyagi that he had been learning through repetition the physical movement needed for fist moves in proper form. The movements Mr. Miyagi had him to do paint the fence turned out really to be the forms he would need to learn for defending himself through karate, too. You get the gist (or maybe you're waxing nostalgic now, and going back to watch a video clip of those scenes from the movie. Go ahead, take your time. I'll wait.)
So the surprise in the movie, of course, is that Mr. Miyagi hasn't been punishing Daniel or just making him do random chores as payment for karate lessons--but in fact, the repetitive motion, learned through those tasks, was part of the way to learn what the master knew. And in martial arts, as in so many things that really matter in life, knowledge isn't merely a matter of what facts are in your head, but of training your body to act and move and respond in certain ways. The only way to learn proper form for karate, argues the movie, is to repeat the motions over and over again until they are a part of you, much the same way a football team runs the same plays over and over again in practice until everyone knows their movements like second nature. And really, it's a lot like how a musician will learn the muscle memory of a certain piece they are learning by repeated practice, or how actors learn their parts through constant rehearsal. It's not merely a matter of head knowledge, but letting your whole self be shaped through repeated practice, until you are able to do what the master can do.
I want to suggest that's how the writer of Hebrews thinks of God's "discipline." This isn't God making us do chores while the Almighty sits back on a lawn chair and sips a lemonade, or God cracking a whip on us under some sadistic notion that pain is good for us. When the writer of Hebrews talks about bearing with God's discipline, it's not about God punishing us with pain to get us to stop doing bad things or breaking rules. I think it's more like God teaching us through practice in the constant day-in, day-out, repetition of a certain way of life, which reflects God's own character. God's not looking for free labor to make us do yard work and car detailing--God is teaching us the way of life that is already God's own way of life, so to speak. And so, much like the only way Daniel can become like Mr. Miyagi is by learning the physical movements Miyagi already knows through repeated practice (even when disguised as chores), the way we learn to engage the world with Christ-like character is to learn the moves from Jesus with constant practice and repetition. In other words, it takes discipline.
So often our culture hears the word "discipline" and pictures one person bossing another around and threatening unpleasant things as punishments for disobedience. But the writer of Hebrews pictures something more like us learning alongside God, doing the same kinds of things God already knows how to do, and learning through repetition, through practice, and through correction, until it becomes a part of us--until we are formed more fully in the likeness of Jesus himself. The things that are unpleasant are not meant to be punishments like a slap on the knuckles with a ruler or a smack on the behind with a freshly cut switch--it is the way we are gain the spiritual muscle memory, so to speak, by repeated practice of truthfulness, of love, of doing justice, of embodying humility and goodness. Like Daniel learning that the motion of a simple act like waxing a car was actually teaching him karate the whole time--and that this was the very reason he needed to practice the same motions over and over again--at some point we realize in the life of faith that it is in day by day choices, in small, seemingly insignificant acts, that we are shaped into the form of love. We learn the way of Jesus, not merely as head knowledge or facts to be recited on command, but as the shape of our lives, our movements, our choices, and our capacity to love. That's what it is to allow God to discipline us--it is to recognize that the word "discipline" is from the same root as "disciple," and to realize that a disciple is not merely someone who believes correct facts about Jesus, but who is willing to let their lives be shaped by Jesus and to follow in his way.
And once we realize that, then it's not a scary thing to entrust ourselves to God's discipline--it is, perhaps, the very best place to be.
Lord God, we place ourselves in your hands and ask you to shape us anew in your likeness--teach these hands and feet and hearts of ours to move like you.
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