The paradox of discipline

The classical Disciplines of the spiritual life call us to move beyond surface living into the depths. They invite us to explore the inner caverns of the spiritual realm. They urge us to be the answer to a hollow world. John Woolman counsels, ‘It is good for thee to dwell deep, that thou mayest feel and understand the spirits of people.’

We must not be led to believe that the Disciplines are only for spiritual giants and hence beyond our reach, or only for contemplatives who devote all their time to prayer and meditation. Far from it. God intends the Disciplines of the spiritual life to be for ordinary human beings: people who have jobs, who care for children, who wash dishes and mow lawns. In fact, the Disciplines are best exercised in the midst of our relationships with our husband or wife, our brothers and sisters, our friends and neighbours.

Neither should we think of the Spiritual Disciplines as some dull drudgery aimed at exterminating laughter from the face of the earth. Joy is the keynote of all the Disciplines. The purpose of the Disciplines is liberation from the stifling slavery to self-interest and fear. When the inner spirit is liberated from all that weighs it down, it can hardly be described as dull drudgery.

Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth, p.1

The regular discipline of some contemplative practice is as necessary a thing to the spiritual life as breathing. (It is no coincidence that so many practices do involve some level of attention to the breath.) 

Many of us may not immediately recognise our favourite practice as either contemplative or classical, but it seems that the patterns of the spiritual life continually recur whether we immediately recognise them or not. The method of prayer and Bible study known as Lectio Divina dates back to the 3rd century BC; yet it is in essence what countless evangelical (and other) Christians practice daily, and refer to as their "Quiet Time". Bare attention to the breath is a contemplative practice that likewise dates back in the Christian tradition at least to the Desert Fathers and Mothers - and in the Buddhist East many centuries further back - but it is in essence the practice used by thousands of followers of various secular programmes of mindfulness, not to mention Centering Prayer and its variations among contemporary Christians.

But the spiritual disciplines are channels of grace and freedom beyond anything that might be expected of things with so unpromising a name. They set us free from the dreary confines of our own impulses and inclinations, from the exigencies of our digestion or sleep patterns. They are habits of prayer and contemplation that will grow, the more we practice them, to be as natural as breathing itself. We can rest in the quiet necessity of habit as in a well-made chair, knowing that it can be relied on to support us however unpromising our feelings at the time. We can trust the the steady pattern of our chosen discipline - actually it is usually more like a calling, a movement of grace, than an choice, but that is a matter for another day, perhaps - when we can't trust our own inclinations. To return to our practice, no matter whether we are tired, or anxious, or distracted, is its own freedom, quite apart from the familiar benefits of the practice itself.