The Beautiful Spanking
Yes, you read that correctly.
I spank my children. We also do time-outs, lost privileges, and other creative forms of discipline. But if you ask my husband or my kids—I’m still pretty much a softie. But one day, (you know, one of those “blog-worthy” days), I saw the beauty of the spanking in action.
My son, (who has been climbing like a monkey almost since he could walk), was attempting to jump from the baby’s crib to our bed. It’s a 5-foot span, but I’ve seen him jump further on many occasions. I was fairly certain he could make the jump.
However.
His sister, who is just barely 3, cannot. And I don’t want her to try. Also, if he did fall short, he would slam into the edge of the 4-inch wide solid wood frame that surrounds our bed. My husband had told him no. I had told him no.
At this very moment, he was squatting on the corner of the crib, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, a half smile on his face.
“Should I jump?” he asks.
So we talked about it. “G, what has Daddy told you?” “Are you going to choose to obey, or choose to disobey?”
He sat there, truly thinking about what to do. He pondered so long that I prayed, “Lord, help him to obey.” (Seriously, he was there thinking for nearly 5 minutes.) Finally, he gradually slunk down off the crib, and took a giant step to the bed instead. I knew it had been hard, and I thanked him for obeying.
Yet, two minutes later, he was back, perched on the crib. I chose my battle and took the teachable moment. I started talking, about the narrow way and the wide way (Matthew 7). About how God sets before us life and death, but wants us to choose life (See Deuteronomy 30). About running away from temptation. (Genesis 39) About resisting the enemy. (James 4:7) (We had just read a paraphrased version of Matthew 4, and the story of Jesus being tempted that morning, so I was able to easily refer to it). He thought and thought.
Then with a smirk on his face, He said, “I choose the WIDE way!” And he jumped, landing milliseconds later, with satisfaction and smiles spread across his face.
At that moment, I knew I must spank him. To be honest, I usually don’t think him jumping is that big of a deal. But at that moment, as he said, “I choose the wide way”, I knew he needed to know: The wide way is fun, the wide way is easy, you get want you want—for a moment. But its end is death. As a parent, I am responsible—to the best of my ability—to keep my child from going this wide way. Yes, the narrow way is hard, even for me. But if he chooses the “wide way” in adulthood, if he succumbs to every temptation he encounters, the grief and sorrow and suffering will be much, much deeper.
Sometimes a time-out doesn’t cut it.
Sometimes taking away a privilege doesn’t quite make the point.
If our children come home one day having done something illegal, or having ruined someone else’s life or someone else’s property or (fill the blank) are we just going to say, “Johnny, you shouldn’t have done that, go sit in your room and think.”
Honestly? What good will that do?
No, at some point, our children need to know that the wide way, and making bad choices—it hurts.
Now, let me just say this. Grabbing your kid in your anger and slapping them, that’s not spanking, that’s hitting. Whipping your child repeatedly with a belt until they confess or apologize, that’s not spanking, that’s abuse. This shouldn’t even need to be said, but hitting, beating, and/or punching a child is always wrong. And of course, these must be distinguished. Many parents and guardians have failed to separate the two and have given spanking a bad rap because of it.
But when I picked up my beautiful firstborn son, and laid him across my lap, I was full of tears. “You have to know, that if you choose the wide way, it is easier at first, but the end is full of pain and hurt and suffering.” I spanked him twice, hard. And said some other things too. He was crying and I was crying. But I had his attention. I scooped him up afterwards, and we hugged tightly, both still full of tears.
“Come on over here, let me show you something that Grandpa drew me when I was younger,” I said as I pulled down a book full of drawings that my dad made me when I was 5. (When I was younger, my dad would illustrate Bible stories on mornings when I woke up early enough to join him in his chair). We looked over the story of the wide and the narrow way together. I even drew him his own copy. We talked about the narrow way being hard, but God is with you. You can get off the wide way at any time and choose the narrow way. God will help you.”
He asked questions. “How come you drew it this way? “How come this? How come that?
We talked for nearly 10 minutes. Then he pointed to the side of the picture with the narrow path, his eyes still wet with tears, “I want to choose the narrow way.”
I don’t think my son became a Christian that day, but it was a conversation I think both of us will remember for the rest of our lives. Is every spanking this glorious? No, but it can be. And in that moment, as I was going through this whole thing, I saw, the reason for spanking. The beauty of discipline. And the love of God, that corrects his children, using the rod from time to time, because he loves us, and he doesn’t want us to end up going this way that leads to death.
Of course, the spanking hurts for a moment, but it is in love, from a Father who loves us and is fully trustworthy, and who gives us the hurt to remind us,
“I know what’s best for you. Please, don’t go that way.”
It is such a deep deep love. It is a love that has compassion and mercy, that sympathizes with us in our weaknesses, that has been tempted in every way, but a love that knows what is best, from a God who is always for us. It is a small, momentary hurt, to remind us that this wide way leads to death.
I share this because I know “spanking” has gotten a bad rep. Some even think it should be illegal. Maybe in some places, it is illegal. But let’s separate “spanking” from beating and hitting and abuse. A father disciplines those he loves. The famous Psalm 23 tells us, “Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Spanking? A Comfort?!!!??!? As crazy as it sounds, when we set limits that protect our children, they come to realize our love for them. They grow up feeling secure, and able to thrive.
My son and I bonded that day. I heard him “preaching” to his 3-month-old brother, as he cooed in his car seat, “We have to choose life. You can choose the wide way, that’s Satan’s way. Or you can choose the narrow way. It is hard but it is God’s way!” His five-year-old preaching voice warmed my heart with joy. We talked again at night, as we read our bedtime story about William Tyndale, a Christian who had lost his life for standing up for the Bible.
“He went the narrow way, Mommy.” Yes, he did, sweet boy, yes he did.
Abused? Traumatized? Unloved?
Hardly. But loved with a love so deep, that it would keep him from falling into destruction.
Spanking can be beautiful.
One further note:
Many of the verses used in working with my son that day came as the Lord led me through this situation step by step. Just like anything in our walk with the Lord, there is no one-size-fits-all approach to discipline. But as we fellowship with him, as we offer those silent, desperate prayers, “Lord, help, what do I do? How do I handle this?” The Lord will send help, and wisdom, and give us grace to walk through these situations. “If anyone lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives to all freely,” James 1:5 tells us. I did, on that day, and felt the Lord walking with me, step by step by step in a longer-than-normal time of discipline … and yet, it turned into something beautiful.
One more thing … as you read through this story, you’ll notice that somehow, the Lord led me to share many verses with him as we walked through this. 2 Timothy 3 tells us that the word of God is useful … for teaching, for correction, and for training in righteousness. One of the easiest ways to use the word in correction is to be familiar with it, to have a handful of verses memorized that you can use in time of need, to point your children to the Lord. That was one of my burdens when I first created Write the Word on my Heart. I chose 30 verses, many of which I was using regularly in conversations with my children. I said, “I want them to know these verses too, so that when I refer to them, they’ll begin to understand that these commands aren’t just from mom or dad, but they’re from a God who loves them and wants what’s best. As we direct our children to the Word of God, he begins to shape their conscience, and the Bible starts to be not just a book for mom and dad—but the Living Word, from a God who speaks to them, too.
If you’d like to begin memorizing with your children, check out the link above, or find more details and products at WritetheWordonmyHeart.com
Hello, of course I write again. I noticed that only those opinions are published that do not report anything negative and question the article. I really tried hard with the last comment. I am actually German speaking. I have reported in detail how my family life was. That my parents are in a free church religious community and live strictly according to the Bible. Corporal punishment was always on the agenda and was justified biblically. Twenty years later, we were all faced with the ruins of our convictions. As written, I took care of my mother who had cancer. That is what I am telling you about today. I hope you can read it, even though my translation is not the best. I have resolved to write more often. To spread opinions and views is one thing, but to listen to other opinions is even more difficult, sometimes impossible, for most people, whether Christian or not.
Well at some point my mother couldn’t keep her house in order either. I helped as much as I could. Of course, I already had my own household and work. Since it was her dearest wish not to end up in a nursing home, I supported her. I got her a cleaner. She was very happy with that and grateful. My father often sat outside under the trees in the garden and read the Bible. Ephesians 5, verses 22 and 23 are underlined in his Bible. My mother was submissive to her husband all her life. One day he was very tyrannical again and decided to get rid of the cleaner. My mother objected, but his comment was, “I decide, not you! You have nothing to say! See that you keep the kitchen in order!” However, my mother had osteoporosis in her hands and shoulder, plus lymphodema in her arm, tumor sores, and was exhausted very quickly. She needed help getting undressed and dressed. He also decided when the house could be heated. My father is not a poor person and his pension is higher than the salary of many hard working people. This is about power. Purely about power. Cancer strips a person, you lose weight, and other than skin and bones, my mother didn’t have much else on her ribs. It was sad how much she froze. Even today I write, I chose love. I stood by my mother. Sacrificed myself and showed her love. Yes my father would read the Bible, for hours, then get up and say, “Mother what’s for dinner today!”
ByLove, thank You for taking time to come and comment on this post. I appreciate you sharing your experience, and I’m sorry that was your experience. I know this is the case with many, that they are spanked without any love attached to it. That “discipline,” even in the name of God or religion—is actually more like abuse. I can understand that if you’ve never experienced the deep deep love of God—That it can be hard to grasp what I’m talking about. I also was raised with religion, in a Bible believing home. But it wasn’t until I was 17 that I learned about Jesus, and how he loved me not because of what I did or how well I performed but just because he is love he is the God of love and his death on the cross paid the price for my sins. If you are curious to know more about this, I have another article on my site titled “are you good enough” that shares a little more of this discovery. In my heart, and in my experience abuse and discipline are very very different. There is true discipline (which in my opinion can include spanking) which is done in love, calmly, lovingly, which leads to repentence and is useful for training our children. And then there is abuse—which comes from the anger and wrath of sinful men, who seemingly haven’t yielded their hearts to God. My heart in this article (which was written many many years ago)— Was to show that discipline can be beautiful. I’m sorry that was not your experience. I do know though, that through the blood of Jesus if we call on the name of Jesus, he can bring us to experience his love it has no limit, he can help us to know our true Father who has never sinned against us, and he can help us to forgive those who have sinned and hurt us.
Jesus is real. God the father is real. I wonder if you just had a very bad experience with religion, and somehow missed how beautiful and loving and kind God truly is. Read the book of John, read Romans 8:31-end. Or 1 John 3:16. Maybe this isn’t the love you were shown, but it is the true love of the true God.
I cannot share much more over comments, and after this I will likely remove all of the comments related to spanking from the site. It is not because some are for or against the article, it is simple because I don’t want to have a full discussion going in my comments section on spanking. But I wanted to reply to you, because I feel perhaps you were not given a true representation of who God really is in your upbringing. He is so wonderful. I have known and seen and tasted great riches from the Lord Jesus and from his father. Please, don’t give up on God and religion in the Bible because someone poorly represented him to you. He is real and he is wonderful, and it is worth seeking him out and discovering who is really is—in his word. Open the Bible. Ask God to reveal who he is. Set aside those verses that were twisted and taken out of context and used to hurt you—and ask the Lord—“who are you? What are you like?” I will pray for you now—that the Lord will marvelously answer and reveal himself to you.
With love and care, Katherine
I think I never fully bought into adulthood because I don’t believe my childhood was ever truly completed. owing to the spankings I deserved but never got. My cherished relationship with my mother was shortchanged by my never being turned over her knee for a spanking’s exercise in accountability. Whether at age four or 14, her measured, over-the-knee attention to my bare bottom would’ve brought me full circle to my helplessness at being taught a necessary lesson.
What I pride in myself was my always being well-mannered. I suppose you could say it came naturally to me. But when I did misbehave, my naughtiness was impulsive. I was rude to my mother on the phone when she called home from school one afternoon. I was ten or 11 then, and I told her she was interrupting one of my favourite TV shows. When she came through the front door a short while later, her very first words to me were an annoyed “For two cents, I’d spank you!” She must’ve walked home persuaded that my bottom definitely deserved warming. But as the fourth of five kids, was I really that much her darling that she simply couldn’t bring herself to spank me? Not even when we both knew I had it coming?
I sincerely wish she could’ve read “The Beautiful Spanking.” Even living apart, we became particularly close friends in her later years, after my divorce. The illustrative image here of the mother’s and child’s fingers linked reminds me of how I liked to hook my little finger with my mum’s as a spontaneous show of supportive affection. It was something exclusive to the two of us, and I’ll always regret that it couldn’t have been at least partly fostered by tearful time exclusively well-spent across her lap.
P.S. Apart from photography, writing has always been my preferred method of self-expression. Maybe that’s why it bothers me when I make a careless mistake in punctuation. In the first sentence, “my childhood was ever truly completed” should’ve been followed by a comma, not a period. Glad I straightened that out. lol
I’m 70 now, and it depresses me to think of the positive difference that childhood spankings across my mother’s knee might well have made in my emotional development. I grew up without ever getting any meaningful correction for my occasional naughtiness. I was punished instead by the withdrawal of affection.
Quite plainly, I needed to be spanked. My relationship with my mother in my teenage years was occasionally all the more awkward because it lacked the bonding that surely would’ve come from having my bare bottom spanked across her knee. Even at age 14 when I’d been caught dangerously playing with matches, I likely would’ve given only token resistance to being deservedly spanked.
My mother did say in her later years that she would spank me if she had it to do over again. I rather think she’d seen some of the problems that never getting spanked had caused me.
Thanks for taking a moment to share your story and wisdom ❤️
I’ve always needed a certain degree of proper order in my life; something like “A place for everything and everything in its place.” I need order for the sake of security. When I used to visit my ageing mother in her apartment, it became a standing joke that I simply had to sweep her kitchen floor right away if I thought it needed it. I suppose my summer jobs in college as a janitor basically suited me.
As a child, I was shy and respectful of authority. At the same time, I could be tempted by naughtiness. When I was caught as an eight-year-old stealing the change from my 16-year-old sister’s coat pocket (she had charge of me with our mother away at Teacher’s College), she asked me if I wanted her to pull down my pants and paddle my bare bottom. I’ve forgotten what I said, if anything, but saying no would’ve had no great conviction behind it.
I knew stealing, even the change from a coat pocket, was serious business, and I knew I deserved to be punished. I deserved the authentic spanking I’d been loosely threatened with. By rights, her question to me should’ve been a declaration of the unhappy fate in store for my bottom. As a threat, it didn’t exactly keep me from ever stealing again.
I had a similar experience with a spanking with my (nearly) 5 year old. It gives me hope when we’re having a difficult day.
Found you on Instagram 😁📚