On Christian Discipline and Spiritual Practices: The Shape of Transformation

The Christian life is fundamentally transformative. We are being transformed into the image of Christ from glory to glory (2 Corinthians 3:18). This transformation is the work of the Holy Spirit. But the Spirit works through disciplines and practices that we undertake, the daily decisions that position us to receive the transformation God is offering. Without our participation, grace has no place to work. Without grace, our participation produces only self-effort and burnout.

Contemplative prayer is the practice of sitting quietly before God, not with a list of requests but with an openness to His presence. It is not the absence of thought but the quieting of anxious thought, the centering of attention on the One who alone is worthy of it. The practice is simple but the effect is real. The person who sits before God in this way finds what Paul promised — a peace that surpasses understanding, guarding heart and mind in Christ Jesus — and a growing awareness of God's presence that carries into the day.

The reading and study of Scripture is a graduated practice. It begins with simple reading — opening the Bible and reading a passage, asking what it means. It deepens into meditation — taking a verse and returning to it over and over, asking what it is saying to me now. It develops into study — consulting commentaries, understanding the historical and literary context, learning the languages if possible. And it culminates in prayer — taking what Scripture has shown us and bringing it before God, asking Him to work it into our lives. The person who engages Scripture at all four levels grows in the knowledge of God. The person who engages Scripture only at one level may miss what God is wanting to teach.

Fasting is the deliberate abstention from food (or from something else we normally enjoy) for a set period, for the purpose of deepening our awareness of God and our dependence on Him. Fasting is not punishment. It is not the path to righteousness. It is a way of saying to our body: you are not ultimately what drives me. My hunger for God is greater than my hunger for food. Fasting practiced regularly trains the will, reminds us of our dependence on the God who made us, and opens us to receive what spiritual food God is offering.

The confession of sin — whether to God alone or to God and a trusted believer — is the practice that breaks the power of secrecy. Secret sin grows in darkness. Spoken sin loses its power. The medieval practice of sacramental confession, whatever its later excesses, was based on a profound insight: the healing of sin happens partly through speaking it aloud in the presence of another. A church that has lost the practice of confession has lost a means of grace.

Spiritual direction — meeting regularly with someone further along in the faith for prayer and counsel — is a practice that is underutilized in contemporary churches. The spiritual director is not a therapist. She is not there to fix your problems. She is there to help you notice where God is at work in your life and to encourage you to respond. A good spiritual director asks good questions: Where did you sense God's presence this week? Where did you feel His absence? What are you being invited to learn? What is God asking you to do?

All of these practices share a common characteristic: they are disciplines undertaken for the sake of receptivity. We discipline ourselves not to earn grace but to make ourselves available to receive it. As the Reformation insistence on grace is essential, so the patristic insistence on discipline is essential. Remove grace and the disciplines become self-righteousness. Remove discipline and grace has no place to work. The Christian life is the integration of both.