We used to host family Bible study at our home on Thursday evenings. Of about a dozen kids who attended, our son Findlay was by far the loudest and most destructive. One night in particular the babysitter could not control him, so I took him aside and warned that the next time he disobeyed, he’d be spanked. A few moments later he took me up on the offer, so I walked him to the bathroom while Bible study continued in the living room.
As usual, I calmly explained to him why he was getting spanked and then I spanked him. He screamed, cried, and angrily swiped off the counter whatever his angry little arm could reach – hairbrush, hairspray bottle, toothbrush. It all made quite a clatter against the tile floor, echoing off the hard surfaces in the large bathroom. He screamed some more, then smacked me in the face.
I spanked him again, and then restrained him in my arms, on my lap, and rested my head on his. I explained to him, as usual, that God instructs Mamas and Daddies to discipline children when they misbehave, so I was only doing my job. Besides, even Mamas and Daddies get disciplined when we disobey authority, whether that authority is God, a boss, or law enforcement. I reminded him I loved him, but I – and more importantly, God – could not tolerate disobedience and disrespect. I kissed his head and held him until his breathing slowed. Turning him around to face me, I asked if he wanted to play with his friends again, this time obeying the babysitter’s instructions. He said yes.
I carried him piggyback, both of us laughing, past the adults, to the playroom, then returned to Bible study. I got some pretty confused looks from friends – Didn’t we just hear screaming and spanks and a mini earthquake back there? How is it that you can both be laughing together so soon?
I get it. I used to think that I had to be angry, and make my kids angry, in order to discipline them effectively. I really did think that I had to give my kids the cold shoulder to let them feel how upset they made Mama. To motivate them to act right so as not to incur my wrath.
Then I read Tedd Tripp’s book, Shepherding a Child’s Heart. It changed everything.
I learned that I should never frame anything in terms of “you disobeyed me”. Rather, ultimately, it is God they are disobeying. The earlier they learn to obey God, the better. Because our kids won’t always be under Mama & Daddy’s authority, but they will ALWAYS be under God’s authority.
I learned that children who obey just to avoid incurring their parents’ wrath aren’t obeying because their heart is right; they are obeying simply to avoid pain for themselves – to evade a spanking or punishment. On the flip side, if we take the time to understand the motives behind our children’s disobedience, we will learn where their heart is at. Once we know the root of the matter in their heart, we can help them see where they’re wrong and help them make it right. If our children see that we sincerely want to know them and understand why they do what they do, and if they sense our sincere desire to help them along life’s hard ways, they will feel cherished and will be more likely to obey out of love. Ultimately, we want them to obey out of love, not fear or convenience to themselves.
I learned – and this is amazing, Mamas, listen to this – that even when we are disciplining our children, we can be drawing them closer to us. Once upon a time I thought that parenting was all about pushing and pulling: pushing them away when we’re angry with them for good reason, then pulling them back once the dust settled. But wise Mr. Tripp taught me that “tying heartstrings” can happen even – and especially – in moments of discipline. Speaking coolly, holding our children’s hands in ours and making eye contact while explaining why they’re about to be disciplined, disciplining them calmly, then hugging them, reminding them of our love, and perhaps even praying with them afterwards, are all steps toward tying heartstrings with our children during difficult moments of correction.
Recently Findlay and I butted heads all day which culminated in me making lunch with praise music blasting and him standing on a stool shouting “I HATE YOU! I HATE GOD MUSIC!” There were a million things I wanted to shout back at him, but instead, I swayed and sang to Jesus as I put ham and cheese on bread. “I HATE YOUR DANCING!” Findlay shouted. I washed his broccoli and put it on his plate. “I HATE YOU!” He screamed. “I love you,” I assured him as I sliced his apple just like he likes it.
I’m not sure if I handled this the best way; perhaps I should have reprimanded him for his awful attitude. But in that moment I felt that all he wanted was a rise out of me, and he wasn’t going to get it. So I calmly finished making everyone’s lunch while Findlay told me he hated everything I was doing and how I was doing it. By the time we sat down at the table, he realized he wasn’t getting the desired affect from me and decided to say the most awful thing he could conjure: “I LOVE SATAN MUSIC!” I know he didn’t mean it, but I wasn’t about to let Satan get a foothold here.
So I laid one hand on Findlay’s shoulder and lifted my other hand. I shouted rebukes to any foul spirits harassing our family, banishing them in the name and power of Jesus Christ. Findlay continued to shout things he thought would hurt me so I shouted louder, to God this time, asking Him to grab ahold of Findlay’s heart to help him calm down, and to help me remain patient. I shouted in supplication to God until Findlay finally quieted and settled down, crying, rubbing his crying eyes with his little conquered fists. When all seemed calm, I concluded my prayer, sat down, said grace, and we began to eat.
Not long after lunch, Findlay came to me and said “sorry for all that” to which I replied, of course, “I forgive you.” We hugged and then I asked him, “Do you think you should ask God for forgiveness?” He nodded yes, we both bowed our heads and folded our hands, and he, in his sweet and speech-limited way, told God he was “sorry for all that.” We opened our eyes and I could see that he was clearly relieved, and we hugged again.
The old me never could have imagined that such a loud, angry, malicious event could have had such a quick and godly resolution. But I have learned to pull – pull God down from heaven to intervene and help us all act right; pull my sons toward me when they seem to want to run away; and pull them in when I, in all honesty, sometimes want to push them away.
I’ve noticed that the pulling-rather-than-pushing-during-hard-times used to happen often, feel forced, and occur almost ferociously. But the more I’ve pulled my kids closer during their moments of disobedience and disrespect – even while disciplining them when necessary – the more natural it feels. And these days the instances are much fewer and far between, because I believe they really seek to please me, as I have sincerely sought to understand them and show how much I love them, even when they get it wrong.
The best parenting advice I ever got, and the best advice I can give you, is to pull. Always PULL.
Really, really, really, really, really good. I try my best to let my children express their emotions. For them to know that it’s not a bad thing to let your feelings out. I try to help them understand that it’s also very important to watch their words when they express emotions. That they can get angry or sad or frustrated without disrespect or dishonor. It’s a balancing act.
Thank you. I’m with you; we absolutely we should encourage our children’s expression of emotions! But as you imply, there is a godly way to do it, and an ungodly way. I personally have a hard time teaching this without feeling like a hypocrite because I have such a hard time practicing Ephesians 4:26, “Be angry, but do not sin.”