Why heart connection is the secret to effective discipline

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One of your sweet ones is turning her back on you, working her best scowl or eye roll, and communicating mostly in grunts.  Some child you birthed – in heart or body – has decided to do the opposite of whatever you say.

And you wonder, where did I go wrong? When did my words lose their power?  When did she stop trusting that I am on her team?  When did I become the enemy?

Taking independence and testing boundaries are a normal part of growing up.  But I think the behavior of our children can also offer us clues about what’s happening in their hearts.

 

Sisters, through my last nine and a half years of parenting, my husband and I have tried all kinds of discipline strategies with our five unique little people.  We’ve tried Time Outs and logical consequences and taking away privileges and earning privileges and behavior charts.  I read many of the books I could find about how to fix bad behavior and get our children to listen.

And I have stumbled the sloppy, hard way into this revelation of a piercing and strikingly simple reality.  When patterns of distrust and disobedience are developing in my home, there is one thing that is almost always true.

Our hearts are not connected.

Maybe I didn’t stop to hear about her day.  Maybe I said something that hurt her feelings.    Or maybe she is just carrying something that I don’t know about – disappointment or hurt or fear or worry, and somehow she ended up feeling like she has to carry it all by herself.

Maybe someone spoke mean words on the playground, or he is embarrassed about a mistake he made in his soccer game.  Maybe he is just discouraged by one too many corrections today.

But if I am not connected with these places of hurt in the hearts of my children, then I am inclined to assume that bad attitudes and defiance are just that. . . bad attitudes and defiance.  When in fact, bad attitudes and defiance might be the only open window to what’s really going on inside of their sweet little chests.

This is not to excuse negative behavior, or to say that defiance always points to a hurt heart or connection.  Children misbehave from a shockingly young age, and so much of our job as parents is to teach them where the boundaries are.  Toddlers might throw their plate on the floor four million times just to make sure you are going to send them to Time Out every single time.  They might hit because they want to know what kind of sound you will make, and what kind of power they hold in their little fists.

But, if our children are taught healthy boundaries from a young age, and have the capacity to obey, then these behaviors eventually fade away.  Right?

 

As our children grow, we have a choice to make about how we will interpret their attitudes and behavior.  I’ve begun to notice in my older children that a well-loved heart at rest doesn’t generally feel the need to act out.

If one of my children is acting out, I am trying to take the opportunity to look for clues and consider that they might be crying out for help.  God is softening my heart and pulling the scales from my eyes to see these little heart cries all day long in my home.

Help.  I feel like I’m all alone and I’m going to show you how terribly alone I feel by telling you to “Go away.”

Help.  I am going to make you see me right now, even if I have to scream and yell and hit, because I feel like you just don’t see me.

Help. I am saying mean things because I never want to feel so small and powerless like I did on the playground today when mean things were spoken to me.  

Help.  I feel like I’m losing control and I need you to tell me I’m going to be ok.

Hurt little hearts will do just about anything to make themselves feel better. . . by getting attention, by asserting their power, by pushing you away, by convincing themselves they are actually in charge.

And the opposite is also true.  When our children feel heard and understood, seen and known, confident of our love and desire for their best, they are simply more likely to trust us, and therefore more likely to listen and obey.

Boundaries remain firm and consistent in our home, and sometimes that means that my husband and I let our children be mad at us.  It is right and good and loving to hold the boundaries firmly!  But I believe from the depths of me that heart connection and effective discipline go hand-in-hand.  This has become a helpful “heart check” for me.

My son is acting like I’m his enemy.  Am I connecting with his heart?

My daughter has a bad attitude about everything I’m asking her to do.  Have I asked lately about that scuffle with her friends at school?  Or how she’s feeling about her daddy’s travel?

So often, when I get off of the discipline train for a few minutes to explore the heart of one of my children – without agenda, other than to connect and know them better – I discover a previously unspoken fear, anxiety, or hurt. . . something they were convinced they had to hold alone.  And once they are seen and known and loved in that tender place, the eye rolls and shrugs melt away, right along with our discipline struggles.

Even my youngest children seem to respond to extra snuggles, or whispers about my love, after a hard moment, or a hard day.

And isn’t my heart the same?

Like so many things that I notice about the hearts of my children, this reality is found tucked inside my own heart as well, as it relates to my Heavenly Father.

When the depths of my heart connect with the love God has for me. . . When I am believing that he is working all things for my best. . . When I am confident that He delights in me. . . I am simply compelled to love and serve Him.

And when I feel wounded by something I’ve perceived was against me – bad news, an unanswered prayer, a failure or disappointment, confusion about something I thought God called me to – I get discouraged and try to take things into my own hands.  I shrug my shoulders at Him and neglect to ask Him what he thinks about my day.  I stuff my ears with busyness and pressures and numbing to turn the volume down on God’s voice.

Obedience is interwoven with believing we are loved.  Trust is interwoven with believing we are seen and known.  Courage is interwoven with believing we are believed in.  Confidence is interwoven with believing we are delighted in.  

Sister, if you feel up against a wall with one of your children, like I often have, would you get off the discipline train for a few minutes with me today, and connect with the hearts of your children?

Search and discover their deep places, as if you are on a treasure hunt.

Pray for eyes to see and ears to hear.

Watch and listen for little bruises or untruths that they are holding.  Reassure them of their true identity as your beloved child and as a beloved child of God.  Adorn them with blessings and confidence about who they are becoming.  Remind them of the beautiful vision you have for their life.

I pray that this habit transforms discipline in your home, the way it has in mine.

What I Never Knew about the Father Heart of God

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To my eyes, nothing but a masterpiece of love

No matter what the day holds, there is something I know to expect as my children climb into bed at night.

There is something about seeing my children rest their heads down on their pillows at the end of the day…  Something about the curves of their faces, and the bend of their eyelashes, the rise and fall of their chests… Something about the way middle daughter pulls a blanket up to her chin… Something about the way my eldest easily pours out all the words for which the day ran out of space… Something about the way my son sighs deep and smiles soft and nestles close, body and soul… There’s something about the way my toddler wiggles in her bed until I tuck her in just so…

No matter what chaos precedes, there is something in this moment, each and every day, that summons a thousand kisses and a tender tuck of the curl behind the ear.  Something inspires me to cup the face and whisper the word of blessing and affection.  Something calls for my fingers to outline the angelic faces and scratch the satiny backs.  Something invites me to forget the offenses of the day, the heaviness of my eyelids, the weariness of my soul…  and to remember only the ferocity of my love, the integrity of my acceptance, the vastness of my gratitude.

 

And it all spills right out of me.

 

The impassioned tenderness I would feel for my children is a thing I simply did not grasp before becoming a mother.  I never knew how my heart would enlarge with every miracle of life.

 

And looking back, I see that before I climbed into the heart of a parent, I had not well-imagined the father heart of God towards his children.

 

There are dimensions of God’s love for us that cannot be contained in our limited understanding…but, nevertheless, as I feel the kind of love for my children that seems unable to be squeeze into the limits of my heart, the picture I have of God’s love gains new color and contrast, new depth and beauty.

 

Far more often than I’d like to admit, I see an image of my heart towards God reflected in a toddler who refuses to receive help, or a little one who cannot seem to submit to my authority.  I see how easily I trust my own judgment over God’s, despite knowing better.   I assume God is against me when I don’t get my way.  As I have the parental wisdom that my child should not run in the street, no matter how their little bodies long for the freedom, my God has a higher perspective of the things that will hurt my heart, no matter how I might long and ache and moan.

 

As I sometimes need to press my little one into her carseat for the buckles she resists, sometimes, the gentle hand of my Father God restrains me, and says “Not yet” or “Not in this way.” And,  I squirm with all of my irritation and assumptions about how He must not be that good.  As parents, we lovingly set boundaries for our children – to keep them safe or guide their hearts.  As my children push and resist and defy, my heart cries out with “Hey, I’m on your team!  I am FOR you!  Trust me!”

 

In the same way, I feel God’s call for me to trust the depth of his love, the purity of his will.

 

The first time a child of mine fell asleep in my arms was the last moment I considered feeling guilty or ashamed for falling asleep during a prayer.  As I felt the joy and adoration of my child’s body melting into mine, I saw afresh that God’s heart towards me is exceedingly tender.

 

The first time I watched my child fail on the journey to learning something new – like the thousand falls on the way to learning to walk – that was the last day I perceived impatience from God towards my weakness.

 

The first time I saw my child run his heart out and lose, or the first time he proudly offered me a mishmash work of art as a gift specially designed for me… these were the last times I felt from my God that I hadn’t been good enough to please him.  Jesus covered our sin, and God’s heart towards us is pure delight.

 

I still forget sometimes, but there’s a new truth in me…

 

As I watch my children stumble into new broken revelation about who God is, and why he made them, I am assured of God’s pleasure as I seek him with my limited understanding, with my confused and often incorrect theology.  In the same way that I love to hear the name of Jesus come out of my daughter’s tiny mouth, even if to say “Jesus is so cute!” or “Jesus is in my sippy cup!,” I see that God simply loves to hear me call on his name.  He delights as I lean my breath of a life and my ephemeral body of dust into his mighty eternal chest.

 

As I watch my children face life’s brokenness – the kind that is not at all good – I feel God’s heartbreak over the way our sin and the brokenness of the world has brought us pain and suffering that he did not design.  I feel His eagerness to hold me, to bring comfort and healing and redemption, when I face hardship.

 

Being a mama is changing my view of the father heart of my God.

 

As I imagine God’s heart towards me now, I imagine the tenderness of His hand as he leads me through life’s broken places.  As I beg my own children to trust me, I am endeared to God’s caring, and my own lack of understanding and perspective.  I know the reality of his higher and broader and deeper understanding.  I feel his unwavering longing for my good.  I sense the weight of the eternal perspective he has on my heart and life.  I feel his wisdom in allowing me life’s trials for the sake of my freedom, for the sake of winning my heart.

 

My eyes are becoming clearer to see that yes, love is the force that drives me to tell my child not to run in the street, or to allow their little failures for the sake of their growth and refinement…and likewise, love is the force that drives my God.

 

 

As I imagine God’s heart for me now, I see him holding out gifts for me to take and open and enjoy, and I hear my childish whines about how I don’t like the color of the wrapping paper.

 

As I imagine God’s heart for me now, I think of the magic and fun of genetics — how the features of a face, the color of eyes, the shape of cheekbones are passed between generations.  I think of how my husband and I study the faces of our children saying “He has your mouth” or “She has my eyes.” And I feel God studying me, his image bearer, proudly proclaiming: “She looks like me!”

 

My husband and I go on a date and end up looking at pictures of our kids.  We can’t stop thinking about them when we’re away.  It’s a little embarrassing, but we are fiercely grateful and mildly obsessed with these amazing little people.  How much more does God’s love for us never end, and our name never leave his mind?  As I imagine God’s heart for me now, I think of a father who is beautifully preoccupied with me.

 

As I imagine God’s heart for me now, I hear his words of blessing infusing me with courage.  When I embark on a new challenge or adventure, I feel him speaking confidence to proceed, and gently warning me not to wander too far.   I can almost hear His voice echoing in my own encouragements and cautions, as I send my sweet ones out on their bikes.  Only His voice is pure love, free from anxiety and fear.  His voice makes me long to rest in his covering.

 

Though God is the picture of a perfect parent, and I most certainly am not, I find that I can relate to God’s heart in this holy time of parenting young children.

 

The father heart of God is a beauty to behold.  I invite you to let the tenderness you feel towards your children endear you to the heart of God.  Let your imagination rest on His pure delight in you.  Imagine His eyes exploring the curves of your face, and wondering at the beauty of your soul.  Imagine His warm giggles when you lift your broken works of art to Him.  Imagine his bent knee to lift you from your failures and skinned knees.  Imagine his tears over your heartbreaks, and imagine him gently catching those from your cheek in a bottle.  Imagine his pride when you are his hands and feet on earth.  Just like you pull out a photo of your child to show to a friend, God loves to show the world His glory and goodness in your very face and life.  Soak in his tenderness, and let it change you.  Let it put a bounce in your step, like that of a child who knows he’s loved.

 

My beautiful friend, today, let your imagination wander to a Father God who is kind of obsessed with you.