Hebrews 12:5-11 (NRSV)

My child, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord,
or lose heart when you are punished by him;
⁶ for the Lord disciplines those whom he loves,
and chastises every child whom he accepts.”

⁷ Endure trials for the sake of discipline. God is treating you as children; for what child is there whom a parent does not discipline? ⁸If you do not have that discipline in which all children share, then you are illegitimate and not his children. ⁹ 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?¹⁰ 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. ¹¹ 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.

Dear Ones,

                OK, so I had an experience of the Lord’s correction.  And I enjoyed it!

                My sister Elena lives in the city of Talca, which is the nearest major city to the Shalom Center she works for.  Most of my work as a volunteer missionary for Global Ministries is on the weekends in Curicó, a city about 40 miles north of Talca.  Curicó is where the cathedral church of the Pentecostal Church of Chile is located, along with the denominational offices.

                It is very easy to get to Curicó on public transportation.  Less than five minutes after walking out of Elena’s front door a “colectivo” comes by (a kind of taxi that runs a regular route like a bus—total passengers, 4).  The colectivo drops me two blocks from the bus station where there is a direct bus leaving for Curicó every 15 minutes (at 1700 pesos, 3 ½ dollars, it is a steal).  On this occasion I got a newer bus.  This is bad news because the newer buses have TV.  This is bad news because whether in Chile or Mexico, they always show R-rated action movies of the most violent and profane kind.  For most of the trip I didn’t realize that that was the kind of movie they were showing, because I have my own personal DVD player with headphones and have been taking advantage of the trip to watch the entire collection of Star Trek: the Next Generation DVD’s that I ostensibly got my kids for Christmas.  My program ran out before the bus arrived, however, and that was when I realized what was going on on the screen.  If my wife, who is a courageous and godly woman, had been there, the bus driver and steward would have heard from her long before we arrived in Curicó.  Weenie that I am, I could still hear the Lord speaking in her voice as I got off the bus, “you need to tell them that they should only show family movies.”   Every Christian who complains about an injustice like that is one small agent helping to bring the Kingdom of God (I even translated a sermon to that effect at the General Assembly).  But my sense of embarrassment and my apathy won out.   In silence I got off the bus and left.  Chalk up one blown opportunity to serve the Kingdom. 

                Not three minutes later, I had a new opportunity.  I had lost a pair of gloves, and the one I was wearing needed to be washed (it takes things a good 48 hours to dry here).   I wanted to replace the lost pair and quickly found an opportunity to do so at the stand of a street vendor on the sidewalk of Henriquez street, the main thoroughfare in downtown Curicó.  Just as I was paying for the pair I picked out, a little girl and her mother came up to the street vendor—they were evidently not people of means.  The little girl was excited about getting a decorated hair accessory that cost 100 chilean pesos (about .20 cents US).  I told the street vendor not to make me change but to purchase what the girl wanted from my change.  This was evidently not a culturally normal thing for me to do (tall, white, and foreign as I am), and it took a moment for the vendor to understand me.  His face broke in to a grin of delight as he explained to the mother, whose face broke into a grin also.  The little girl was completely unawares.  The whole experience was over in 30 seconds or less. 

                Cut now to the worship service at a suburban (suburban here means “poor” rather than “middle class”) local church that same evening.  I am preaching on the theme “acquired tastes”.  I am arguing that the Apostle Paul had had to give up his naturally, ethnically transmitted tastes in religion and had acquired new tastes as follows:  I want to know Christ^,  and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death.  I have split the passage into three points, in good Princeton seminary fashion.  I have explained the desire to know Christ, wanting to experience Him ever more deeply in each relationship, in each activity, in each stage of life.  On my second point I am saying that wanting to know the power of His resurrection is delighting in each little victory of the Kingdom of God, kind of a thrill of team sports sublimated, where one is constantly looking for an opportunity to “touch the ball”, to shoot or pass to score a goal.  I then go on to give a great example, the second of my two experiences, of course.  And God leads me to set a trap for myself in which I proceed to fall with eyes wide open. 

               

                A few minutes before, they had taken up the offering.  I fingered a $1000.00 peso bill (2 US dollars).  Now, they have a curious custom here.  The choir sings a special for the offering, and after it is collected and before they finish, the offering is brought to the front of the church where it is dumped (that sounds wrong—read “placed”) on the secretary’s table, which is to one side of the altar area.  She proceeds to count the offering while the congregation begins singing a song—so that the choir has an opportunity to give their offering.  The offering bag gets passed to the clergy during the choir’s offering.  Well, when the offering is “placed” on the table, I see that it is all coins, not bills.  So I proceed to put a $100 coin instead of the bill.

                Back to my sermon.  As I describe my little act of kindness, I said “and it was such a little thing, just a coin (thinking of the widow with the two mites, I guess), like the coin we place in the offering.”  You know, as a preacher a Pentecostal congregation that gives you “amen”s and “preach it”s is usually a good thing.  They encourage you and you preach better than you would have otherwise.  On the other hand . . .       A voice from somewhere said audibly (maybe it was God’s voice again, though it sounded male this time), “Oops, now he told us how little he put in to the offering.”  Everyone laughed out loud, and despite the cold, I got red from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet.  And I loved it!  What a gentle, tender, and beautiful way God had to put me in my place, surrounded by the laughter of those who love me (and most of whom didn’t put any more than 100 pesos either).  Maybe all of us had our spiritual pride taken down a notch.    

                You know, there was after all that third point, “and the sharing of his sufferings.”  I had always thought of these as great persecutions, illnesses or trials.  But apparently sometimes all it means is learning to laugh at yourself when you haven’t been all the Christian you were supposed to be.

                Enjoy the discipline!

David J. Huegel