Discipline
Do you remember when you learned to color inside the lines? Can you recall what it felt like to remove the training wheels from your bicycle? What about the first time you sat down at the piano, or with your guitar, and sight-read a piece of music with some measure of fluency?
These moments of mastery are almost always the result of discipline. You sacrifice time and energy, working toward a goal, often without a sure promise of success. You concentrate. You study. You train your fingers, your eyes, your ears to work in concert with one another. You persevere. Your dismay at repeatedly failing matures into a genuine and abiding appreciation for the art or science or craft.
One morning, you awake and realize that you have become a master, and yet you have so much more to learn. You realize that you can learn by sharing your knowledge with others, and helping them reach their potential. So the beautiful process of discipleship ... embracing discipline as a means of discovery and mastery and fulfillment, continues.
This has been my experience with writing and music. The more I learn, the more I begin to see that others are far more gifted than I. My learning enables me to recognize (and appreciate) the gifts of the prodigy. When I see a child with the gift of wordsmithing, or a man who has never taken a music lesson in his life, but still plays the piano beautifully ... I feel obliged to share what little knowledge I have. I want to say "I can teach you to read music, not because you need it, but because the world of music needs your gift. We need you to put the music in your head down on paper."
I wonder if the Twelve had this sort of exerience with the Teacher. Matthew was probably able to tell Jesus about taxes and accounting. Simon could tell Him about fishing. But when they saw who He was, did they feel an even greater sense of appreciation for their own disciplines? Did Simon think "Ah ... so God is a fisherman!"? Did Matthew realize "Caesar can have his, while God can have His, and neither is robbed!"? Did God use the discipline of following, listening, teaching, and learning at Jesus' side to enlighten them? I think so.
True disciples are humble, not through their own efforts, but because they are able to see things for what they really are. They experience things as they are. I can listen to Rachmaninoff's work, and I can appreciate it to a certain extent. I think when I have the discipline to teach myself how to play one of his pieces, I will appreciate it so much more.
These moments of mastery are almost always the result of discipline. You sacrifice time and energy, working toward a goal, often without a sure promise of success. You concentrate. You study. You train your fingers, your eyes, your ears to work in concert with one another. You persevere. Your dismay at repeatedly failing matures into a genuine and abiding appreciation for the art or science or craft.
One morning, you awake and realize that you have become a master, and yet you have so much more to learn. You realize that you can learn by sharing your knowledge with others, and helping them reach their potential. So the beautiful process of discipleship ... embracing discipline as a means of discovery and mastery and fulfillment, continues.
This has been my experience with writing and music. The more I learn, the more I begin to see that others are far more gifted than I. My learning enables me to recognize (and appreciate) the gifts of the prodigy. When I see a child with the gift of wordsmithing, or a man who has never taken a music lesson in his life, but still plays the piano beautifully ... I feel obliged to share what little knowledge I have. I want to say "I can teach you to read music, not because you need it, but because the world of music needs your gift. We need you to put the music in your head down on paper."
I wonder if the Twelve had this sort of exerience with the Teacher. Matthew was probably able to tell Jesus about taxes and accounting. Simon could tell Him about fishing. But when they saw who He was, did they feel an even greater sense of appreciation for their own disciplines? Did Simon think "Ah ... so God is a fisherman!"? Did Matthew realize "Caesar can have his, while God can have His, and neither is robbed!"? Did God use the discipline of following, listening, teaching, and learning at Jesus' side to enlighten them? I think so.
True disciples are humble, not through their own efforts, but because they are able to see things for what they really are. They experience things as they are. I can listen to Rachmaninoff's work, and I can appreciate it to a certain extent. I think when I have the discipline to teach myself how to play one of his pieces, I will appreciate it so much more.
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