No one who has ever known me would choose to use the word “disciplined” to describe me. I know I wouldn’t. But a little over a year ago a friend of mine put together a list of goals to take him through the end of the year. I looked at my life and was a little embarrassed to say that I didn’t have any goals for that fall. So I made a commitment to journal daily. I bought a little black moleskin and started writing a little each night before bed.
It doesn’t sound like much, but here’s the thing: discipline breeds discipline. I started trying to write every night, and then I got to where I had to do it. I couldn’t go to bed without it. I found that my daily Bible reading became more regular. And as I blogged about a few days ago, I eventually developed the discipline that allowed me to train for and run a half marathon.
I love that discipline has two meanings; it refers to both a type of focused, regular study and to a painful, but helpful, reprimand. Every time I sit to write, I am tempted to write something pithy that will someday be discover and recognized as genius. But when I look back on my writings, I am struck by the sheer mundaneness of daily life, and my propensity to make to repeat my mistakes. This is another type of discipline, the painful recognition of my shortcomings.
I am thankful for discipline, because, I know that it is only through the pain of daily practice and regular failure, that I will grow into the man I need to be tomorrow.
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