Don’t Try – Train
By Steve Bell
The spiritual disciplines are not magic. They are certainly no guarantee of life unsullied by suffering, error, or outright failure. This I know from experience. Neither are the disciplines a strategy to obtain brownie points from a stern God whose only joy is to suck the life out of everything that is fun to do.
The spiritual disciplines, in themselves, have little value I suspect. But they are, I think, related to Paul’s confidence that, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free” (Gal. 5:1). And though we don’t normally assume a corollary between discipline and freedom, I hope to make the case that the two could hardly be more closely related. And to better understand my meaning, we only have to take this out of the realm of the spiritual and look for a similitude in the physical.
I love Dallas Willard’s pithy paraphrase of 1 Timothy 4:7: “Don’t try—train.”
We all know that if we would like our bodies to do something, or perform something in a manner that doesn’t come naturally, that a wisely-mentored and disciplined habit of practice can often get us there.
No one has ever run a four-minute mile simply because they wanted to. It has never happened. Not once. But one doesn’t accomplish this remarkable feat by a singular practice either. In other words, one doesn’t pull off a four-minute mile simply by running a lot. There is a whole suite of disciplines and practices that come to bear if the goal is to be realized. There is proper diet, sleep, core and upper body strength training along with lower body training. There is study of the body and its processes, of breath, of strategy, of mind control. There is endurance training, foot care and proper attire. And there is rest. The practice of these things is no guarantee of success, but the dismissing of them is pretty much a guarantee that the desired goal will not likely be realized.
The world I’m more familiar with experientially is the realm of music. As a singer/songwriter by vocation, I often put bands together for special tours. My go-to piano guy is a fellow named Mike Janzen. And he really is a wonder, both as a player and as a person. He’s the type of player who can easily lay back and play supportively and inconspicuously, but if there is ever a time to kick it up and take an improvisational solo…oh my goodness! One almost expects the heavens to split, a dove to descend and a voice to proudly declare, “That’s my boy!”
But I’ll let you in on a secret. Often, before concerts, when the rest of us are hanging out back stage, joking around and generally making merry…Mike will slip off and find a piano somewhere to run some scales and focus his mind. I’m not being falsely modest to say I’ll never play like him, I simply don’t have the aptitude. But at the same time, I don’t have the discipline either. That doesn’t mean I can’t make meaningful music, but it does mean my joyful participation in that level of freedom is as an observer.
When I was a boy, I once asked my dad how you know what you should be when you grow up. “The better question,” he said, “is whom do you want to be when you grow up?”
He paused to let that subtle shift sink in. Then he continued: “Pick someone you admire for who they are, meaning the kind of qualities they display. Find out what they did to develop those qualities, and as best as circumstances permit, commit yourself to them.”
My mind immediately settled on Jean Vanier, the modern day saint who founded the L’Arche communities around the world. He stayed at our house once while on a cross-Canada speaking tour, and even as a boy I found him to be a compelling curiosity. He dressed simply, he walked and gestured slowly, he spoke economically, and he had a quality of attunement and gaze that made you wonder what possible wonder he could be looking at when he looked at you. When I started to learn more about him I found him to be a man committed to simplicity, deep contemplative prayer and meditation on the life of Christ. He was a man renown for loving and practical acts of startling compassion for the world’s marginalized. In other words, the wonder of his personhood was no accident. He was a man dedicated to soul-craft, which made him a man of radical freedom.
So, what are the spiritual disciplines? There are various lists of course. Dallas Willard identifies two categories of practice: disciplines of abstinence, and disciplines of engagement.
Under abstinence he lists: solitude, silence, fasting, Sabbath, secrecy (hiding your good deeds) and submission.
Under engagement he lists: Scripture reading, worship, prayer, soul friendship, personal reflection and service.
I’m experientially familiar with some of these more than others, and certainly I am master of none. But these are not a bad starting point, or filter, through which to consider the direction of one’s trajectory.
Who do you want to be? Is there someone whose life and witness so moves you that you are at least curious about his or her process? Is there someone whose countenance and candor are so winsome that you find yourself coming alive in his or her presence, or, in the presence of his or her story? It may well not be true that “you can’t get there from here,” as the naysayers love to say.
And why should we bother with such an arduous ascent? Why? For the sake of the world, of course. Personal freedom is a desirable thing, but far too low of a goal. What makes a soaring eagle greater than it is (for its own sake) is that others can see it soar, a sight that causes their hearts to thrill.
Steve Bell is a Winnipeg based singer/songwriter, blogger and conference speaker. Steve is the lead author of PilgrimYear, a unique multimedia experience through the seasons of “theological time”—Advent, Christmastide, Epiphany, Lent, Holy Week, Eastertide, and Ordinarytide, available now for download on mobile, web and tablets at pilgrimyear.com. Steve’s music can be found online at stevebell.com.
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