Why Discipline?

Discipline is the gift we give ourselves in order to restrain our impulses, and by which we measure our success or failure toward any given goal. Without discipline, we flail around in our flesh, seeking satisfaction by whimsy while we glory in the hollow nature of our standards. In the end we achieve only the failed fantasy by way of wishing ourselves silly. A byproduct of this behavior is rationalizing our behaviors while perpetuating a lie. Regret and disappointment are sour bedfellows for those who chart an undisciplined course, and if left unchecked they morph into bitterness, resentment and secret shame.

I don’t play the lottery or gamble. There are several reasons for this, but the main reason stems from a terrible experience I had as a child. I went to a small private school, and at the end of my 6th grade year we went on a field trip to The President River Boat. Like any adolescent, I was very excited to skip class in order to cruise the river. I stepped onto that boat as if I were stepping foot on The Titanic. It was glorious! I remember the red velvet carpet and the shimmering glass in the windows. I remember the wood-paneling in the halls, and the winding stair case between levels. We had full range of the vessel, which was a freedom I was infrequently afforded at that period of my life. I ran back and forth, inside and out, round and round with my friends. And while engaged in that activity, I noticed–and was quickly captivated by–the machine that offered up stuffed animals for a quarter by way of a small mechanical crane.

The only money I had was the $10 my sweet mother had given me for lunch. I hardly remember that wrinkled ten dollar bill for how fast I exchanged it for a $5 bill and some quarters. I rationalized that I could spend a dollar or two, walk away with a toy, and still have money for the spectacular meal (a juicy burger and a pile of fries) all the kids were going to buy for lunch. But I was so intent on winning a precious stuffed animal that I kept chugging quarters into the machine until all I had left was a measly two or three bucks. Even then I didn’t despair. I told myself that my teacher would be more than happy to give me a few dollars to make up the difference because no adult would dare let a poor, innocent child go hungry.

I was shocked when my teacher declined my request. I began to ask my friends for extra change, but they all said no. And so I was left with the churn of the paddlewheel as it rotated in sync with my churning stomach, and a seemingly endless amount of hours between myself and dinner with only a stale soft pretzel to assuage my pain. The day suddenly went from luxurious to cold, gray and bitter. I spent the rest of my hours aboard that boat feeling as if I had landed in prison and I had only one thought, “I just want to go home.”

As I look through the lens of time I realize that even if I had I won the stuffed animal, I still would have been miserable because I still would have been hungry. That toy was an idol I worshipped above all else and reaching it would have given me a moment of satisfaction, but then the reality of my situation would have eclipsed that pleasure. How do I know this? Because I have spent years chasing pleasures that never fulfilled the longings of my heart.

There are many ways by which people measure success. Be it weight loss, monetary gain, beauty, rank or title, a goal achieved is a reason to celebrate. But I have discovered that discipline is a far more powerful motivator. Discipline has taught me who I am and knowing myself is important. Learning to curb the behaviors I thought defined me showed me I am not a slave to my desires because I learned that my desires lie to me.

Live abstemiously. Living otherwise – what Pascal calls ‘licking the earth’ – imprisons us in a tiny dark dungeon of the ego, and involves us in the pitiless servitude of the senses. – Malcolm Muggeridge

I have always loved to eat. As a child I sought out sugary treats to fill the vacancies in my heart. It’s a tired, old story, but it is mine. If forced to choose between fudge and human companionship, I would probably have chosen the fudge. Holed up in a dark room, with a romance novel to fulfill my relational fantasies, I could indulge the senses and stave off the real world for a while. Our culture pokes fun at this practice, as if such hedonistic activity is a natural occurrence and therefore insignificant. This behavior is condoned for some. After all, if one doesn’t wear the visage of unrestrained passion, and does not offend the senses of others, have at it. But this is a lie too. This behavior—regardless of perception—is a corrupting practice. When we seek only to gratify ourselves, we in essence please no one. One can apply this logic to any vice. Taken to the extreme, every vice has the capability to destroy us, whether it be gluttony or exercise, and these are mild examples.

I am guilty of justifying my behavior and blaming others for my failures. Discipline forced me to take responsibility for my actions in thought and in deed. It enabled me to peer through the microscope of pain and gain a clear view of my heart. For while I can lie to others, I cannot lie to myself. I can create the fantasy world and even live fairly peaceably in it for a while, but reality cannot be escaped forever, just as my hunger could not be ignored upon relinquishing my money to a machine that did not pay off.