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Will, the Spirit, and the Discipline of Godliness — Revisiting What Monastic Tradition and Modern Psychology Frameworks Get Right and Wrong

Q: “Spiritual discipline” is a phrase believers often have on their lips, but if you press further: what exactly is the content of this discipline? What is its object? And what power does it draw on?

Introduction

1 Timothy 4:7–8 (ESV):
Have nothing to do with irreverent, silly myths. Rather train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come.

“Spiritual discipline” is a phrase believers often have on their lips, but if you press further: what exactly is the content of this discipline? What is its object? And what power does it draw on? Most believers may not be able to answer clearly.

Paul says plainly here to “train yourself for godliness” — clearly “training” (or “discipline”) itself is not a suspect term, nor is it the exclusive preserve of monasteries or ascetics, but something Scripture calls every believer to do. In recent years, not a few spiritual books have tried to draw on the “willpower” theories of modern psychology to reinterpret the ancient monastic tradition’s methods of discipline, hoping to offer believers a concrete, workable path. This attempt’s motivation deserves affirmation — such authors long to help believers live out godliness, and that heart shouldn’t be dismissed. However, when we carefully compare this framework with what Scripture itself teaches about “discipline,” a gap emerges — one not easily overlooked — regarding the object of discipline and the power relied upon.

This article attempts to sort through three accounts of discipline — the rigorous discipline of ancient monastics, the willpower framework of modern psychology, and the discipline of “walking by the Spirit” that Scripture teaches — and proposes a view of discipline closer to what Scripture teaches as a whole.

I. Two Accounts of Discipline

1. The Discipline of Ancient Monastics

The fourth and fifth centuries saw no shortage of monastics living alone in the wilderness, who left behind many records of disciplining their hearts. One story tells of a spiritual father instructing his disciple to weave a basket from palm leaves, only to require him to unravel and reweave it once finished; another tells of a spiritual father who had his disciple water a dry, withered branch planted in the ground every day, until three years later the dead wood came back to life and bore fruit.

These accounts display genuine sacrifice and self-giving — living alone in the wilderness for years on end, in extreme austerity, is hard to imagine anyone sustaining unless out of sincere devotion to God. This point the writer does not wish to speculate about or presume the motives of these monastics were suspect simply because their methods of discipline were unusual.

However, examining these disciplines by their design rather than their motive, a point worth noting emerges: the content of the discipline itself (unweaving a basket, watering a stick) was arbitrarily chosen — Scripture never indicates these particular tasks themselves carry spiritual significance. What was being obeyed was a person (the spiritual father’s instruction), not directly God’s own will. To read “obeying a person” as a path to “obeying God” requires an additional layer of interpretation — one Scripture itself never states, and which later interpreters have supplied. This kind of discipline might more accurately be understood as training in “self-denial” (Luke 9:23; Gal 2:20), which, while related to what Scripture describes as “walking by the Spirit,” is not the same thing.

2. The Willpower Framework of Modern Psychology

In recent years, some authors have drawn on psychologist Kelly McGonigal’s popular book on willpower,1 dividing willpower into three powers — “I Will” Power, “I Won’t” Power, and “I Want” Power (self-monitoring awareness) — and used this to reinterpret the meaning of ancient monastics’ discipline. The intent behind this attempt — hoping to help modern readers more easily grasp the value of ancient discipline through the language of science — is likewise worth affirming.

The issue isn’t whether “willpower” as a phenomenon is real — as a psychological faculty of human beings made by God, it can be entirely real. The issue is that this framework itself is neutral, without direction. It doesn’t distinguish whether something is done “for oneself” or “for God,” nor does it distinguish whether the content of the discipline is something Scripture calls for, or an arbitrarily chosen habit (such as deliberately using the left hand instead of the right to pick up a cup). Using a framework that is, at its core, directionless to support something that ought to point clearly to God often results in the Spirit’s role becoming an optional add-on within the whole framework, rather than the true source of power.

II. The Scope of Discipline Scripture Specifies

Paul, right after 1 Timothy 4:13, 15–16, immediately specifies the concrete content of the discipline: “devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching… practice these things, immerse yourself in them.” This shows that the “discipline” Scripture teaches is not an arbitrarily chosen psychological habit, but has a clear scope:

1. The Discipline of Words — Reading and Meditation

Worth noting: “reading” and “meditating” are two separate things. Psalm 1:2 says: “his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.” The original word for “meditates” carries the sense of murmuring, chewing over something repeatedly2 — not simply thinking quietly for a moment, but an active, sustained process, somewhat like cattle chewing the cud. Joshua 1:8 says the same: “This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night.” This is a completely different action from simply “having read” — many believers have kept reading Scripture for years, yet without seeing evident change in their lives; that’s not necessarily due to insufficient devotion, but may be precisely because they’ve stayed at the level of reading information, never truly murmuring it over, letting the words move from head to heart.

Even genuine meditation, if not followed through into action, still comes to nothing. James 1:22–25 offers a sharp illustration: “But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like.” If meditation only stops at meditation itself, it’s really no different from simply having read — both are a reflection in a mirror, forgotten the moment you turn away. True meditation must necessarily produce concrete obedience — meditation that isn’t translated into action has only completed half of the discipline.

2. The Persistence of Prayer — “pray without ceasing” (1 Thess 5:17); Luke 18:1 reminds us “not to lose heart,” itself implying this requires deliberate persistence of the will.

3. Concrete Action Against Sin — Romans 8:13, “by the Spirit put to death the deeds of the body”; Colossians 3:5 lists specific items to be put to death.

4. The Sustained Discipline of Self-Denial — “take up his cross daily” (Luke 9:23).

What these four areas share in common is that discipline has both a specified content and a specified source of power (the Spirit). Lacking either, discipline drifts off course: lacking the specified content, it degenerates into psychology-style arbitrary habit training; lacking the specified source of power, it degenerates into self-perfection by one’s own strength alone, however good the motive.

III. The Powerlessness of the Will and the Release of the Spirit

Paul’s confession in Romans 7:15–25 is one many believers echo — “For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” Worth noting: throughout the entire passage of 7:14–25, the word “Spirit” does not appear once; by contrast, within the short span of Romans 8:1–17, “Spirit” appears nearly twenty times. This contrast is an important clue: chapter 7 describes the state of living under the Law, lacking the Spirit’s help; and 8:1’s “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” is precisely the answer to this predicament — “For the law of the Spirit of life has set me free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death” (Rom 8:2).

The “set free” in “set free by the Spirit,” to be precise, is being freed from sin’s bondage and domination (Rom 6:14), not that the inner struggle no longer exists at all. Galatians 5:17 clearly states that even a believer who has already received the Spirit experiences “the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh” — this struggle remains genuinely present in a believer’s life. The distinction lies here: the person in Romans 7 is “willing to do good, but unable” — a state of complete powerlessness; while Galatians 5:16 gives believers who have the Spirit a promise, and this battle against powerlessness is no longer permanently fixed as defeat.

IV. What Concretely Is “Walking by the Spirit”?

Scripture has two kinds of records related to the Spirit’s work, and it’s worth first distinguishing these clearly, to avoid taking the experience of one particular special period and applying it as the standard every believer should expect every day.

Acts records the Spirit directly and clearly instructing disciples in action (e.g. Acts 8:29, Philip; Acts 10:19–20, Peter; Acts 13:2, the church at Antioch; Acts 16:6–10, Paul’s missionary route) — these records bear witness to how the Spirit actively worked during the stage the church was just being established, but this is a record of the special period of the church’s founding — the text itself doesn’t say this is the pattern of experience every believer should expect day to day.

Another category of records is closer to every believer’s daily life: the Spirit bears witness with our spirit that we are God’s children (Rom 8:16); the Spirit lets us intimately cry “Abba, Father” (Gal 4:6); the Spirit intercedes for weak believers with groanings too deep for words (Rom 8:26–27); the Spirit helps us grasp the meaning of the scriptural content we’ve already received (1 Cor 2:10–16).

Accordingly, the concrete practice of “walking by the Spirit” can be understood this way: a believer, under the ongoing guidance of the conscience shaped by God’s word, whether or not they feel ready or at ease, chooses to obey (doing the good they should do) or to refuse (not doing what selfish desire pushes them toward), and returns to confess their sin when they fail; and the power sustaining this ongoing choice is a thirst to please the heavenly Father with love, not a heart wanting to prove one’s own willpower is strong. Judgment does not rest on how difficult or in what form the action itself is (whether it’s “spiritual”), but on who the action is ultimately directed toward — 1 Corinthians 10:31, “whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” — judgment always comes down to “for whom it’s done.” The hypocritical almsgiving Jesus criticized (Matt 6:1–6) and the almsgiving God affirms could look exactly the same in outward form — the difference lies in who the one giving alms is truly seeking to please in their heart.

What must be cautioned is that this judgment is suited only for examining oneself, not for judging others. Though Scripture does allow using fruit to discern true from false teaching (Matt 7:15–20), it explicitly states that the authority to judge the hidden things of a person’s heart belongs to God (1 Cor 4:5). For this reason, this article’s examination of ancient monastics and the modern psychology framework stays consistently at the level of method and framework, not a judgment of any individual’s inner motives.

David’s psalm “confession is also obedience to the Spirit” offers the deepest example of this in the Old Testament. Psalm 51 was written by David after the prophet Nathan pointed out his sin; verse 11 says: “Cast me not away from your presence, and take not your Holy Spirit from me.” Worth noting: what David sought when confessing his sin was not “give me stronger willpower so I won’t sin again,” but asking God to preserve his presence and the Spirit together with him; the following verse 10, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me,” is likewise a cry outward, not digging into his own willpower resources. This precisely echoes the account above of “walking by the Spirit” — the turning and confession after failure is itself evidence that the Spirit continues to be at work, not a search for a stronger method of self-restraint after the discipline has failed.

David’s attitude toward the discipline God permitted also deserves attention. 2 Samuel 12:13 records David saying to Nathan only one sentence: “I have sinned against the Lord,” and immediately calmly accepted the consequence of his son’s death, without defending himself; 16:11–12 shows that each time Shimei cursed him, he stopped his men from taking revenge, saying “Let him curse… it may be that the Lord will look on the wrong done to me, and repay me with good.” This kind of submission is not an active discipline of refusing selfish desire, but passively bearing the discipline God permitted without harboring resentment — under the discipline category of “self-denial,” another equally genuine yet often overlooked dimension.

V. Gazing and Transformation: From Emulation to Being Shaped

Beyond the choice of the will, Scripture’s description of holiness has an even more fundamental layer — gazing and devotion — and this theme already appears clearly in the Old Testament psalms. Psalm 27:4, David says: “One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple.” What the “gaze” here expresses ultimately isn’t ability or a sense of security, but simply gazing upon God himself. This is nearly identical to the teaching of 2 Corinthians 3:18 in the New Testament, showing that “gazing and being transformed” is not theology Paul uniquely invented, but a pattern of godliness David had already lived out long before.

The zeal and courage David displayed when his spiritual state was strong likewise bears witness to this judgment of “for whom it’s done.” 1 Samuel 17:26, facing Goliath, he said: “For who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?” His indignation and courage began with an intolerance of God’s name being mocked, not confidence in his own ability; Psalm 69:9, “For zeal for your house has consumed me” (this verse was later quoted and applied to Jesus, see John 2:17) is the same kind of zeal born from being consumed with God. This precisely answers to the judgment this article has consistently emphasized — if discipline and courage are truly directed toward God, they will display this pattern born out of devotion to God, not a pattern aimed at self-achievement.

2 Corinthians 3:18: “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.” The change this verse describes clearly comes from “the Lord who is the Spirit,” and the transformation itself is the effect that comes from sustained gazing upon the Lord’s glory, not the result of deliberate imitation of outward behavior — like someone who truly admires another person: over a long time, their words and manner will naturally be influenced by the other, but this influence comes out of devotion, not the result of deliberate imitation.

1 John 3:2–3 likewise directly links “seeing him as he is” with “becoming like him”: “We shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is. And everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure.” Purifying oneself (discipline) flows out of this hope and devotion, not that discipline itself first brings devotion.

Paul in Philippians 3:7–11 says he “counts everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” — his thirst for “knowing” Christ clearly exceeds the pursuit of any level of discipline technique.

From this we can see: the starting point of spiritual discipline may not be a decision of the will, but gazing upon and devotion to God; the role of the will is to keep making the choice to obey, on top of the devotion already produced.

Conclusion: Three Layers of Discipline

Bringing all this together, spiritual discipline can be understood as three tightly linked, indispensable layers:

  1. The Status Layer (Already Accomplished) — because the Spirit indwells them, believers are objectively already “no longer in the flesh” (Rom 8:9). This is grace already received by anyone who has repented and been baptized,3 not something achieved through discipline.
  2. The Will Layer (Sustained Action) — this status doesn’t automatically cash itself out; it requires the believer to keep choosing, moment by moment, to “by the Spirit put to death the deeds of the body” (Rom 8:13), to “take up the cross daily” (Luke 9:23) — this layer is where the will is genuinely involved, and it is also the only place where this article overlaps with the psychological willpower theory.
  3. The Power Layer (the Spirit’s Help) — even given genuine involvement of the will in the second layer, the ultimate source of power that enables one to “act” it out remains the Spirit — “for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work” (Phil 2:13).

Willpower, as a genuine psychological faculty of human beings made by God, does genuinely participate in the discipline itself — this point mustn’t be denied. But the effect of discipline should not be attributed to the will’s own achievement, but should be attributed to the work the Spirit does through the scope God has specified — words, prayer, refusal of sin, self-denial. The hearts of the ancient monastics and the modern psychology framework deserve affirmation, but the concrete content of discipline or the framework they’ve chosen may not best carry the spiritual goal they originally hoped to reach. True spiritual discipline ultimately points not toward a set of psychological technique that can operate independently of love for God, but toward a heart that keeps gazing upon God, thirsting for him, and thereby gladly obeying.

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References

  • 溫偉耀：《在地若天——靈性的根基和探索》，第三章〈修道主義的靈修學——寧靜、獨處與意志操練的工夫〉(though the writer disagrees with some points in the book, Dr. Wan’s deep scholarship on the historical tradition of monastic spirituality, and his genuine devotion in pursuing spiritual formation, are deeply appreciated — this article has benefited much from that work)
  • Kelly McGonigal, The Willpower Instinct: How Self-Control Works, Why It Matters, and What You Can Do to Get More of It
  1. That is, Kelly McGonigal, The Willpower Instinct. This book analyzes how willpower operates from a neuroscience angle, and is a key reference relied upon in the book referenced above. ↩
  2. The original word is the Hebrew verb הָגָה (hagah); besides “meditate,” the same root is used in Isaiah 31:4 to describe a lion “growling low over its prey” — showing this word carries a repeated, sustained, even audible murmuring sense, not simply quiet inner reflection. ↩
  3. Acts 2:38: “Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.” ↩