“And if you call on Him as Father who judges impartially according to each one’s deeds, conduct yourselves with fear throughout the time of your exile, knowing that you were ransomed… but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot”. 1 Peter 1:17-19
I sat silently with hands in my lap, head down, ankles crossed—motionless, except for brushing tears from my cheeks occasionally. My silence broken only when a choked sob could be held no longer.
I was waiting. And thinking. Waiting and thinking and thinking and waiting.
The scene from earlier in the afternoon looped endlessly in my head, keeping the tears fresh and making my stomach sicker. My fear and anxieties grew.
Sooner or later, Daddy would come home from work.
Daddy’s return from work was usually a joyous occasion. We loved it when Daddy came home, smelling like a day full of railroad and hard work. When Daddy got home, it meant sweaty hugs, big smiles, silly jokes, and maybe even “found-treasures” left in emptied boxcars, like coverless comic books, coloring books, or children’s books. He’d head to his shower and return in freshly pressed clothes smelling like Old Spice. There would be more hugs, teasing, and silly laughter at goofy daddy jokes.
But not that day. I was not looking forward to Daddy’s return. When Daddy got home, I would get a spanking.
Momma was the person in charge of punishment. Punishment of any sort from Daddy was extremely rare.
Sure, he’d “get on to us.” Daddy would tell us to settle down and behave. He’d become irritated when lights were left on in empty rooms, toys abandoned where they didn’t belong, messes made on the kitchen counter, or spills pooled on the kitchen floor. But even then, punishment from Daddy was verbal– and gentle.
My Daddy had an incredibly tender heart, especially towards Momma and his daughters. Daddy was a big, strong, burly man with a teddy bear’s heart. He couldn’t stand the thought of accidentally hurting one of us or even making us cry.
That day was different. Momma would tell Daddy that she was too upset with me to spank me with the right spirit. He would have to be the one to do it.
As much as I loved my Daddy, I did not want him to come home. I did not want the spanking that I knew I deserved. I didn’t want Daddy to be upset with me. And more than anything, I didn’t want him to be disappointed with me. I didn’t want to face my Daddy.
After what seemed like an eternity sitting on the nubby pea-green couch, Daddy came home.
His happy-to-be-home smile fell the minute he walked in and saw me sitting on the couch crying. Momma’s stern face signaled the bad news to come.
Then she said, “Sherri disobeyed you. You told her very clearly not to try to carry that large slab of bricks from behind the playhouse to the front to make a patio. You told her it was too heavy — that you would do it for her.”
Daddy nodded, probably guessing where Momma was going with this story.
Momma continued, “Well, she got impatient – couldn’t wait until you got home. So she talked her little sister into helping her carry that heavy slab. Shellye’s little hands couldn’t hold on, and she dropped her end of the slab; it scraped the skin off of her legs from the knees down to her feet. It’s bad, but it could have been worse, I suppose. Saying ‘sorry’ isn’t enough this time. Sherri must be punished, and I’m too angry to do it. You’ve got to spank her.”
Daddy’s face looked simultaneously angry, sad, and like he might be sick.
By this point, I was sobbing so hard I was heaving. My six-year-old, sorrowing heart was about to break. I knew I deserved punishment. I was devastated that I had hurt my little sister so badly. I was terribly embarrassed and so sorry that I had disobeyed. The worst was the disappointment and sorrow on my Daddy’s face.
He was disappointed because I had intentionally and flagrantly disobeyed him and, in doing so, had injured my little sister. And he was grieved because he had to punish me.
I barely remember the spanking itself. No doubt it temporarily hurt a bit. I remember that afterward, Daddy’s big arms swallowed me in a hug. Tears were in his eyes when he said he loved me and told me that I had to obey so that I didn’t get hurt or hurt someone else, “Punishment isn’t needed if you obey.”
I’ve thought about this incident numerous times—often because my little sister reminded me. This past week, while studying First Peter, I was reminded once again of “my time on the couch” as I paused to consider Peter’s instructions to his Christian readers:
“Conduct yourselves with fear through the time of your exile.” 1 Peter 1:17
“Fear God.” 1 Peter 2:17
Immediately, the words “Perfect love casts out all fear (1 John 4:18).” And “Fear not. (Luke 12:7, 32) came to mind. So, how do I live fearlessly when I’m told to conduct myself with fear?
When I dug into the words translated “fear” in both the Old and New Testaments, I found that the two most common definitions are: 1. terror and 2. dread. When the word “fear” is used in the context of God’s dealing with the ungodly, it means terror and dread. The sinners’ fear—the terror and dread—results from the realization that God’s judgment and eternal punishment await them.
When used in the context of the believer, “fear” has a third definition: reverence.
Fear, defined as reverence, is rich in meaning for the believer. “The fear of God,” when referring to the child of God, means that our conduct is to be shaped by our reverent awareness, appreciation, and awe of the power and majesty of God.
That awareness and understanding of who God is should inform our behavior, obedience, and love for Him.
Once we get past the elementary knowledge that disobedience displeases and often requires discipline from God, we begin to understand the disappointment and hurt that we cause His heart when we demonstrate a disregard for His love for us and His demand that we pursue holiness because He is the Holy God.
“For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” Romans 8:14-15 ESV
Just as it disappointed my Daddy that I had disobeyed and hurt him that punishment was necessary for my good and growth, so it is with our Heavenly Father. He delights in us and wants His best for us. When we demand our own way, become too impatient to wait for His timing, or desire what He has said is not for us, we disappoint Him and position ourselves for discipline.
He is a loving Father. We need not be terrified or live in dread of Him. Still, we should bow before Him in reverent awe, acknowledging His righteousness, holiness, majesty, power, goodness, and the multitude of attributes that are His alone.
And when we fail (and we will), we can be confident that when we ask for His forgiveness, God, our Heavenly Father, will open wide His arms of love to embrace us in mercy, grace, and love.
“And they shall be my people, and I will be their God. I will give them one heart and one way, that they may fear Me forever, for their own good and the good of their children after them.
I will make with them an everlasting covenant, that I will not turn away from doing good to them. And I will put the fear of Me in their hearts, that they may not turn from Me.
I will rejoice in doing them good, and I will plant them in this land in faithfulness, with all My heart and all My soul.” Jeremiah 32:38-41