Growing up I don’t remember being grounded much. That’s not to mean I was the perfect child (far from it y’all) because I was met with a spanking instead when my mouth got me in trouble. A grounding would mean my oft-times introverted self would have a reason to sit and read for hours instead of playing with the majority of boys that grew up in our neighborhood.

Being grounded or getting grounded has taken on the connotation of that of airplanes more than it’s intended meaning. We’ve been there when a plane has gotten grounded, and the disparate sighs of the passengers and the crew too become the soundtrack of a gate. Or it’s been our own and we scurry to try to get around it, finding another one to hop onto to bypass the grounding. But being grounded as a person means you are stable, realistic, unpretentious. Wouldn’t you want that for your plane as well as your character?

Maybe that grounding as a kid was so that we could be more grounded as an adult, emotionally and mentally stable, realistic. Being grounded gives us time to think about what put us there to begin with as a kid. What consequences our actions (or words) hold for us and those around us.

I thought on this as well when I saw Paul’s words to the Ephesians of “being rooted and grounded in love”. And then again his words to those at Colosse, “if indeed you continue in the faith, grounded and steadfast, and are not moved away from the hope of the gospel which you heard.” That grounding means rooted, holding fast, and found tapped into the very love of Christ and hope of the gospel. Being grounded isn’t a punishment but a reflection of character and of Christ Himself, who we are called to reflect. That to be grounded means we are unmoving and not blown about by whims and feelings, but connected to the source of our rooting, the True Vine Himself.

I think for me I’d much rather be grounded more and more as an adult, finding that if it’s in love it ends up setting up roots that grow deep and secure not in my own actions, words, whims and feelings but in Christ’s, in the very Hope of the world.

Punishment for good?

When I was a kid I had a habit of sassing. I didn’t get into too much trouble, except for my mouth. (That’s probably still true today) For punishment I’d get something taken away from me, most notably my bike or watching my favorite show (MacGyver y’all). I’d get sent to my room to cool off, and keep my mouth shut as well.

That was most often my mom’s form of punishment, although I did get popped on the behind a couple of times (and I turned out just fine thankyouverymuch). The taking away of stuff, of things that mattered. Sending me to my room. Confining me to myself, indoors, without the thing I loved so dearly-freedom. Choice. That amazing pink BMX Mongoose.

Because of actions that were within disciplining, I saw the removal of things I held as mine as punishment. It showed me that I wasn’t in control of those things, and they could be taken away if I wasn’t within the guidelines my mother had set forth on behavior. I think we all see when things are taken away from us that it’s a sort of punishment, an effect of our wrongdoing or misjudgement.

But I think we have it wrong. Or at least I do.

God loves you enough to strip anything from you that keeps you from Him.

Pete Wilson

Oof.

So when things that we perceive as being taken from us as punishment is really God loving us so much more than we deserve. He sees that they are what is keeping us from Him, what’s distracting and denying fellowship and communion with Him. He wants the absolute, flat-out best for us that He would strip it away so we can be free to run to Him. To close that gap on that dusty road as the prodigal, as the heartbroken stooped in picking up the pieces. He instead scoops us up and pulls us in. He tears down that wall we built, and yanks out that relationship that was not what He intended for us.

Y’all I firmly believe that He takes away all the things from us not as punishment but as goodness. As love. As deliverance. As redemption. Yes, we get disciplined, but that job you allowed to become identifiable by what you did not by Him? He needed to remind you of who you are to Him, not what you did. It wasn’t punishment, it was love.

So we lose some skin on this thought, on this punishment that is not in reality punishment at all, but God loving us more than we can understand. It’s Him being good when there’s not much good in us, and seeing our need for Him is far greater than our need for the thing or person that is stripped from us.

I don’t know about you but when I come to see this in how He loves me, it makes for an easier transition of my control to His love.