The Night We Learned Our Lesson

Back when I was a child, discipline wasn’t a suggestion—it was a guarantee. If we acted up, we knew one of three things was coming: a sharp “Now you listen here,” a quick slap on the behind, or, in the worst of cases, Daddy’s belt. That belt was a legend in our house. It hung on the back of the bedroom door like a warning sign from the Lord Himself.

One particular night stands out clear as a bell. My sister and I were supposed to be winding down for bed, but instead we decided to test the laws of gravity. In our fuzzy little footie pajamas, we were jumping on the bed, laughing so hard our sides hurt. We were having ourselves a grand time—until Mama hollered from downstairs, “Y’all better quit that right now!”

Of course, we didn’t. When you’re a kid, Mama’s voice sounds more like background noise than an actual warning. I’m not sure how many times she called up, but when we heard her footsteps coming up those stairs, we knew Judgment Day had arrived.

Now, Mama was famous for her “warning swats.” She’d take Daddy’s belt, snap it once or twice in the air, and usually that was enough to send us scrambling under the covers. But not that night. No, ma’am. That night we’d pushed our luck one bounce too far. The belt didn’t just sing—it landed.

I can still feel that sting all these years later. Mercy, it burned like fire! Those little welts on the back of my legs were proof that Mama meant business. Back then I thought it was the end of the world, but looking back now, I see it was just good, old-fashioned love wrapped in leather.

You see, our parents took the Bible to heart when it said, “He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is careful to discipline him” (Proverbs 13:24, NIV). And in Hebrews 12:10, we’re reminded, “Our fathers disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness.”

I can’t say I was thankful for that spanking then—but I sure am now. Those lessons built respect, obedience, and a healthy understanding that choices have consequences. Looking back, I’m convinced those “come-to-Jesus moments” with the belt probably saved me from a few bigger whippings from life later on.

A Closing Prayer

Dear Heavenly Father,
Thank You for loving me enough to correct me when I go astray. Help me to remember that discipline isn’t punishment—it’s protection. Thank You for parents who cared enough to teach me right from wrong, even when it hurt them (and me!). Give me a humble heart that’s willing to learn from Your gentle correction and to extend that same kind of love to others.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

The woodshed

 

Have you ever had God take you to the woodshed? If you're from the south, you know what I mean. 

The woodshed was a place on farms where tools were kept and work was done, especially during inclimate weather. It was also the place just far enough away from the homestead that kids knew could be dangerous. 

When I was growing up, woodsheds were common though not as popular as with previous generations, mine knew the woodshed was where spankings would often take place. A good whack on the butt could be done in private and if the offender got a good hard lickin', the woodshed afforded some privacy for the inevitable wailing that would come after a leather belt, bare hand, or wooden paddle slammed against a bare behind.

Although my parents never took me to the woodshed, because we didn't have one, I did often receive spankings with a very powerful hand or leather belt. I can still feel the welts those "lessons" left on the back of my legs or bottom. 

And while I'm not keen on using that type of punishment to steer kids in the right direction, the spankings did accomplish their goal of imprinting on my mind the definition of unacceptable behavior. 

But did you know, sometimes God takes us to the woodshed? Not a literal woodshed, but often as we read His Word, He'll give us a good spanking. 

This morning, as I was having my quiet time, the Holy Spirit took me to the woodshed. As I read several passages, while studying the word forbearance, I felt the sting of sorrow. I realized I'd failed to master my flesh woman and I'd certainly not extended the gift of forbearance to some of my loved ones. 

I love studying the Hebrew and Greek words in the Bible. They give so much deeper meaning to verses of Scripture. As I was studying today, God used the Greek word, anecho, to drive His point home. Anecho means to tolerate the unpleasant. Colossians 3:13 gives a good example of this word and how it should be used. 

In essence, God helped me see that I'd failed miserably. Without going into sensitive details, I'll humbly admit I reacted with my flesh and today, I could see clearly how ugly it was. 

It's extremely hard for a type A personality to lose control of a situation. When that happens, it's easy to feel insecure and unsure. God knows I struggle in this area, and I think that's why He has to remind me of my shortcomings now and then. 

If you've never studied the word forbearance, anecho (GK), you might learn a lot from taking the time to do it. I know I sure did. And, I'm very thankful God took the time to remind me of this behind His heavenly woodshed today. 

We're frail human beings. We don't always make right decisions, especially when we're walking in the flesh. I'm so thankful Our Loving Heavenly Father forgives us and I'm very glad He never runs out of patience with me. 

His unconditional love surrounds me, even after I get a "whoopin' (as my Granddaddy would say.)" And I'm so glad it does. Without that constant in my life, I'd surely be doomed to failure all the time.