Jesus and discipline are a bad combination.

Through personal experience I have come to learn that the two don’t go well together and when mixed have damaging results. In my case, Jesus stopped loving me.

Now I have always believed in disciplining children. This is mostly because I just don’t like them, but also because it teaches the little devils valuable skills.

First of all, it teaches them to be courageous in the face of danger. It takes a lot of bravery for children to misbehave while being fully aware of the possibly painful consequences.

Discipline also teaches them how to be more cunning. Children will do what they want regardless of punishment, yet discipline forces them to be clever in order to avoid painful reprimands.

Despite the positive outcomes of punishment, it is important to choose the tools of discipline very carefully as they can have devastating results.

My parents were firm believers in the paddle, and they had an amazing ability to turn anything into one as long as it was within reach. I soon learned to fear normally harmless objects like newspapers, potholders and wooden cooking spoons.

It wasn’t until a favorite toy of mine broke, however, that they found a seemingly perfect tool for discipline.

It was a bouncy-ball paddle, a plastic paddle with a rubber ball attached to it via an elastic string.

I’m sure many of us remember such primitive toys from our early childhood days.

Not only did they improve your hand-eye coordination, but they also allowed you to repeatedly pummel your siblings or pets without loosing the ball.

I remember mine all too well.

It was translucent green and had a multi-colored ball attached to it. Painted on the front was a cross with a lamb lying under it, and on the top it read “Jesus Loves You.”

Once the ball snapped off, my parents confiscated the paddle to enforce their dreadful punishments.

They didn’t seem to find too much irony in the fact that they were using a “Jesus Loves You” paddle to spank my two siblings and I; hence, it became their favorite mode of discipline for years to come.

My parents always advocated the “What Would Jesus Do?” approach to life, and every time that little lamb hit my butt I couldn’t help but wonder if this is something Jesus would be doing.

I found it hard to believe that Jesus would want to punish me just for feeding my entire dinner to our dangerously obese dog or for kicking my brother in his “no-no special spot.”

Nevertheless, my parents had convinced me that Jesus was a firm believer in discipline.

Jesus loves you, but he has no problem beating your ass.

After years of being abused in the name of Jesus, I finally decided to put a stop to it.

Having searched the house for months, I finally came across my once-cherished toy in the back of my parents’ nightstand next to a Bible.

I gathered up enough courage and cracked the paddle in half, and, in the process, decapitated the lamb that was so delicately painted on the front. At 7 years old it was my way of saying, “Jesus, I have had enough!”

I think that was the moment Jesus stopped loving me.

The next time my parents went to get their weapon of choice they were shocked to discover its absence. When they furiously interrogated me, I told them I got rid of Jesus along with his paddle because our relationship had become too abusive.

Even though the next paddle was a lot bigger, the words “Jesus Loves You” were nowhere to be found on it.

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