Who's going to feel the pain?

My daughter Lisa is discovering that raising small children isn't quite as easy as it looks. They are inquisitive. They are busy. They are forever testing the limits and pushing hard against the boundary lines. Not only that, they are tireless. No matter how tired mom and dad may be, they're still ready for one more round.

I remember the day of my own similar epiphany. Foolishly, I called my mom and complained bitterly about my hard lot in life because of my small children. She laughed. Hard and long.

I admit it. So did I, when Lisa called, following the same script I had followed 25 years earlier and that my mother had undoubtedly followed 25 years before that. Mom called it the payback laugh. (I'm glad she lived long enough to enjoy it.)

As hard as it is to raise small, inquisitive, busy children, I'm finding it's even harder to raise adult children. In fact, it's nigh unto impossible. That's what makes it so hard. Parents, who were hyper-vigilant during the formative years, ready to battle any adversary, whether it be infection, illness, injury or some bully that threatened harm to their children, become superfluous overnight. Parents of adult children are thrust, not just to the sidelines, but high up in the stands, far beyond earshot, way beyond eye contact with their adult children.

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, the adversary comes against them. In the form of job losses, financial crises, health issues, marital problems, even infidelities and divorce. This adversary is strong. This adversary is well acquainted with human nature and human frailties, well-versed in building siege ramps against the moral ramparts so carefully erected, that may have fallen into a state of disrepair over time.

Years ago, when I was but a child, waiting for a deserved punishment, Mom or Dad, whoever was wielding the belt of correction at the time, sometimes would say somberly, just before the first blow landed, "This is going to hurt me more than it does you."

I didn't believe it for a moment. They were the ones with the power to inflict painful punishment. What was I against their might? They held all the cards. They determined the velocity of the belt, the thickness, the final strength of it against my buttocks. I was the one who suffered. Not them. Not only that, they were the ones who defined what was or wasn't acceptable behavior. They decided what behaviors were worthy of praise and what behaviors were worthy of wrath.

How often have I felt the same when the consequences of my choices have led my heavenly Father to discipline me? How often I cried, "It's too much. I can't bear it. It's not fair!" And, if he had somberly warned me, before the first blow landed, that this was going to hurt him more than it did me, I would have denied it with all of my heart.

Until I heard, again, Jesus say on a hillside long ago, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!" (Luke 13:34)

Until I heard, again, the repeated offenses of Israel against the God who had led them out of their oppression in Egypt to a land flowing with milk and honey and God's reluctant but always justifiable, always needful, discipline of that stiff-necked people.

Until I heard, again, the God who gave them life, cry out ""How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, Israel? How can I treat you like Admah? How can I make you like Zeboiim? My heart is changed within me; all my compassion is aroused." (Hosea 11:8)

And so, from high up in the stands, thrust away from the job I once had, to train them up in the way they should go, I will trust that the same Father who has carried me through every plot of ruin and destruction the adversary has fashioned against me, to also carry my children, who are children no longer, safely through, though at times they may be tempted to cry "It's too much. I can't bear it. It's not fair!"

Nevertheless, I am convinced that God will not spare the flesh if it means sacrificing the soul.

"Our fathers disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it." Hebrews 12:10, 11 (All Scripture citations are NIV)