[On Faith]

Dear Daughters

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[Originally posted HERE at Servants of Grace]

To my dear daughters (whether knit within my womb, or the wombs of others), as well as anyone who has ever loved one:

These days have been laden with a palpable heaviness. I see things, I hear things, I read things and they press on my soul because they’re painting a picture for you and of you that is not from God, or in his image. It differs from what he created and tenderly looked on, beholding its goodness. It does not reflect him or his purposes for you, and it was not what you were intricately woven for. It’s a weight I struggle to ignore and can’t help but wonder how you will come to carry it. I mourn the deep scars it has left on daughters before you, and I yearn for you to have the strength and wisdom to navigate its seemingly inevitable forces.

I see violence against daughters. Their bodies, as currency to steal and spend for power and pleasure. Anonymity used to take what was wanted in the darkness that could never be had in the light. Strength used not to protect but to hurt, and wit used as a weapon for evil rather than good.

I see manipulation of daughters. Sex, as something entitled and owed. Fame or charisma used to coerce or defraud. Popularity as invincibility. Trust used to trespass, and means used to procure more and more and then take what can’t be bought.

I see objectification of daughters. Flirtation and advancement as means of feeding desires wanting to be fed. Respectability used to pardon indiscretion. Past victories used to dismiss present downfalls. Habits allowed to furrow, becoming blinders to seeming hypocrisy. Depersonalization, as a way to view daughters apart from their eternal souls.

Distortions and Definitions

These are not new distortions. They’ve been around in various forms since time was young, but you must learn to fight the forms they take in your time. These are not the only distortions. They are few of many — some you will face, some others will face — but all should be battled against because they distort the truth. I want to help you fight those coming at you, so you’ll be better able to fight those coming at others.

In the age-old narrative of a Father bringing his children to himself and a bridegroom desiring to be united with his bride, daughters have played mighty and graceful roles. Many will over-simplify and condense your character, stripping it of its uniqueness, because it makes the story easier or more comfortable to tell. Many will deny your consistencies and symmetries because it makes the story mesh better with their own tales or perhaps be about something other than what it is.

Be careful of that. Be wary of definitions of yourself that come from someone who didn’t make you.

The Anchor of Who We Are and the Beauty of Who We Can Be

Daughter, as you grow and walk through these weighty times, I want you to do two things:

  1. Rest in the unchanging ways you reflect God as his child and his daughter. The more you understand who you are and aren’t in relation to him, the harder it will be for the world to label you and convince you you’re something you’re not. You have something they can never take.
  2. Learn and understand the varied ways you reflect God as his utterly unique creation to display his glory in ways no one else can. Discover what he made you for and act on it. The more you grasp how God wants to use you, the harder it will be for the world to use you. You are something that has a value and a worth that can never be stripped.

Understanding what steadfastly remains the same and what grows and varies, will help you not lose your bearings or lose your vision.

The Solid Rock and the Living Water

Remember the more you know and seek your Creator, the more you will see him in his creation (including you!), and the more comfortable you will become in understanding yourself as his daughter.

Look at the clear and comforting rhythm of the seasons and cycles that you learned to anticipate before you could articulate. That expectancy of a cool dip to soothe the heat of summer, the recognition that the smell and crispness in the air indicates approaching snow. The birth brought forth in Spring, the death that approaches in Autumn. The life cycles of the plants you pluck and the insects you catch. The life cycles involved in the pregnancy and birth that brought you into this world. Yet every morning is new, every season is different, and every tiny little fingerprint is distinct.

And since the God of these is writing your story, you know his chapters and characters will be soothingly consistent and familiar, yet exceptionally fresh and varied.

Find security in the unchanging ways you reflect our unchanging God. The order and symmetry in how you my daughters, distinctly reflect certain aspects of God’s character that my sons do not. How both of you exhibit other aspects of God’s character together that we see consistently across his vast creation.

Find purpose in the extraordinary ways you reflect our God of unending beauty and creativity. The artistry and originality in how you reflect your Creator, uniquely from all my other children and from all of his, because of gifts and traits singularly woven together in you alone.

Our Legacy

Look at his past chapters. God’s cast of righteous female characters is both narrow in the seeming source and object of their faith, yet broad in the ways and means and personalities his image-bearers display his glory. We see daughters who were wise judges and mighty leaders, we see daughters who were meek and who clung to the feet of Jesus. We read of daughters who build homes with wisdom and perseverance, and daughters who destroy strongholds of sin and injustice. We hear of daughters whose hands compassionately feed the poor, hands that skillfully deliver endangered babies, and hands that drive tent pegs of justice. We see daughters who save lives, who risk their lives, who give their lives. We see God accomplish his purposes through his daughters whether a queen or prostitute, fertile or barren, married or single, young or old, strong or weak.

Daughters, you were formed in this place and moment for a reason. You are part of the symphony that takes the same notes that have been played for ages, and arranges them in ever-new, ever-relevant, ever-praiseworthy ways. You were chosen by the composer himself to be woven into his masterpiece, in moments and means that would not be as glorious or excellent without you.

My daughters, I pray for you, a mind that is fiercely wise. A heart that is tirelessly compassionate. A soul that is selflessly brave. Words that are true and deeply kind. Arms that are strong to build and defend and care. And eyes that continually seek your Lord as the source and object of your strength.

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[On Family]

Hands Worth Holding

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Hey, baby girl. If you’re gonna find a guy later, find one like him. One who loves you every ounce as much when things are falling apart as he does when things are wonderful.

Like when you’re having a meltdown on the boardwalk because too much sun and too little sleep leaves you at less than your best. And things like walking and eating ice cream simultaneously feel like a really big deal, yet stopping to eat it feels bigger.

But guys like him just hold your hand and wipe your tears and patiently spoon feed you while you take deep breaths and walk at that perfect pace that’s not so fast that you feel out of control, but not so slow that you feel left behind.

And it gives you the chance to remember who you are and who made you.

Those are the kind of hands worth holding and shoulders worth leaning on. Trust me on that one…


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[On Faith], [On Family], [On Schooling]

On Learning Our Children

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We take it year-by-year, but these last few years we’ve schooled our kids at home. It’s not some big principled, reject-the-system, religious-exemption sort of thing, we just decide with each child, each Fall, in each place, where we think we should put them based on their needs and our abilities.

Partially due to two years of moving, even when abilities and bandwidth were low my third kid is one who has never had report cards or textbooks or bus stops. But she’s played and experienced and learned naturally. It’s what I kinda had wanted for all of my kids. Because I truly believe that it’s hard to make a child love to learn once you’ve killed their awe and wonder, and it’s difficult to nurture that when you remove playing and exploring and discovering too soon. And boy, does this girl love to learn. In a way that I’m not entirely sure she would have discovered if she’d been sitting in a desk instead of out in the world.

But there have been moments of fear. I recently went to bed a few weeks ago in tears and panic and exasperation because this spirited, recently-turned-7-year-old is not independently reading. I mean, I was reading The Chronicles of Narnia and Nancy Drew when I was seven, and this girl could care less about barely being able to read a cereal box. She has big brothers to read her words, parents to read her stories, and she simply has never felt the need. While I thought I was maybe okay with this, the system we still have to peripherally navigate, isn’t really. A (self-imposed) 30-minute evaluation resulted in words like “delayed,” and “potential learning disabilities,” and “totally not ready for second grade,” kinda shook me and made me second guess all sorts of things.

Just know, I LOVE teachers. I so appreciate schools. They’ve provided structure at times for my children who needed it. They’ve provided support at times for my children who struggled with things I didn’t feel equipped to navigate. Systems are needed when you have to educate millions of children in a nationally standardized way. I could never do what they do, day in and day out.

Systems can be hard though. I think they catch some big and important things and I think they overlook some big and important things. I’ve had a child who struggled with the system because he learned, and processed, and read much slower than others. I’ve had a child who struggled with the system because he learned, and processed, and read much faster than others. But for the most part I’ve agreed, and understood, and felt as if they were hurdles that were beneficial to learn how to navigate as a part of life. Hard work, patience, respecting authority, self-control, waiting for others…

The Things That Fear Hides

It hit me differently with this girl, this time around though. It was unexpected in that they were words and descriptors that were so utterly different from the ones I’ve gathered while observing her vivacious, bright, quick-witted mind for the last 7 years.

This child I birthed and know so deeply in ways others don’t have the privilege to. I hear her stories, I watch her play, I experience her thoughts and ideas. She’s quite possibly the most confident (yet realistic) child I’ve ever met, and for the first time ever I caught a little glimpse of her confidence faltering. And it killed me.

I’m not one for false confidence. It’s shaky ground that will not age well, but it’s so important to me that they understand the gifts that God truly formed them with. That they see them, develop them, use them, and understand that much will be required of them in those areas in exchange.

I want her and others to see those precious gifts in ways that a thirty-minute evaluation or a standardized test will not show.

I went to bed so conflicted and worried, and woke up like God was gently shaking me and reminding me of who she really was. Who he made her to be. Who I’ve always known her to be, yet was forgetting in my worries.

Who IS My Child?

She’s like my very own Anne of Green Gables. Some of my kids are smart, some are funny, but she’s that brilliantly witty combination of both. She quotes Shakespeare (“All’s fair in love and war,” she’ll say to her big brother complaining of unfairness). Her vocabulary and ability to communicate deep things takes my breath away. Not just remembering words, but hearing them, understanding them, and using them ages later in perfect context.

She loves every place we’ve ever lived or visited. She adores the beauty of the mountains, the excitement of the city, the peacefulness of the country, the newness and sociableness of hotels, the coziness of a 350 square foot travel trailer….

She loves interacting with people, yet she can play by herself for hours upon hours. She’s never been bored. She taught herself how to ride a bike in about 17 seconds.

She’s fascinated by how things work, how things are made, how things came to be. Her theological questions and connections blow me away. She loves documentaries, she loves creating things and describing things, she loves stories.

Her imagination is intense, her excitement is intense, her anger is intense, her frustration is intense, her love is intense. I’m not sure she’s ever felt anything partially or halfway in her life. She says what she means and she means what she says.

She will talk to anyone. Not like a child meaninglessly chattering away to any person who will pretend to listen… but wherever I take her, she almost always manages to locate and plant herself next to some other soul, whether 3-years-old or 93-years-old, to effortlessly connect with them and draw them out. Eventually I’ll find her, passionately, yet matter-of-factedly discussing family relationships, hopes and dreams, personality characteristics of grandchildren, favorite places traveled, shared frustrations of life, or how they like their job, or being married, or getting old, or starting kindergarten…

Give her 5 minutes on a playground, and she’ll have a “pack of boys” (in her words) following her around, fighting her battles, and playing her games. Not because she needs to dominate or control, but because she’s insanely confident and her excitement is contagious.

She sees people and gets people and figures out how to love them practically. When I have a migraine she holds my hand and brings me ice packs. She lectured my husband before leaving on a recent trip with the grandparents, that he better take good care of me and make my coffee just like she does, until her return.

She is a gift and she has a gift.

Learning My Child

I say all this, not because it’s important to me that people understand home-schooling, or question public-schooling, or tell me comforting things like I’ve done the very best I could with her (I haven’t). And honestly, her summer reading tutor is absolutely wonderful and knowledgeable and much-appreciated, and knowing my daughter, she’ll probably be reading The Iliad and War and Peace by next week. But my point is, that even if she isn’t, that’s really okay too.

Ever since she was born, my verse for her has always been Luke 1:45. “Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord had said to her will be accomplished.” Because it will. Not because she will accomplish it herself, or I will, or anyone else will, but because HE will.

If their God-given strengths aren’t diminished by their God-given weaknesses, then they certainly aren’t going to be by their world-given “weaknesses.” Even if we’re going about this all wrong it’s not going to change who they are and who they were created to be. No parent, or school, or system, or curriculum could ever take away what was given to them by the hand of God. We need to look at our children and learn them. See their struggles and help them, watch for their gifts and value them, not because they are our child, but because they are a person made in the image of God.

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[On Family]

Strong Shoulders

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One of the first things I noticed about Kevin were his arms. They were strong and muscular and completely different than mine. Yet over the years as we live and walk and fall together, I realized I’ve grown to be far more thankful for his shoulders. While arms can fight and embrace, shoulders tend to do more supporting and lifting and quietly carrying. And all I can say, is his shoulders are strong and steady.

Anyone who knows Kevin, knows that he says what he thinks. I’ve always loved this about him.

Most anyone can say strong words strongly, or soft words softly, but far fewer can say true words with gentleness and meek words with mightiness. And he’s grown into this so well.

He sees what people are good at and he tells them, he writes notes with genuine words to encourage people, he’s honest with himself and others when he’s weak or wrong, he loves developing someone’s strengths, he tells me how he loves me and why, he desires his words to be true and good.

He’s the most incredibly wonderful mesh of strong and gentle, real and relaxed, serious and humorous.

At any given moment he could be walking me through an art museum pointing out his favorite paintings, or forcing me to watch some dumb YouTube video. Listening to Bach Cello Suite No. 1 in G major, or Blink 182. Reading poetry, or quoting Calvin and Hobbes and Dumb and Dumber. Discussing Dostoevsky, Spurgeon, and business strategies, or the latest Premiere League drama and standings. Texting me photos of architecture he admires and quotes he finds inspiring, or ridiculous memes and practical jokes he’s playing at work. Watching a documentary on the history of National Parks, or laughing at re-runs of The Office. Demolishing kitchen cabinets, or playing dollhouse with his little girls.

Happy Birthday to my best friend, my closest friend, my cutest friend, my deepest friend, my funniest friend, my steadiest friend, and my favorite friend!

Forever thankful for your kind heart and your strong shoulders…
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[On Faith]

Don’t Waste the Words of the World: Raising Children of Truth

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[Condensed version originally published HERE at www.desiringgod.org]

I love words.

Our eyes feast on them, our ears soak them in, our fingers form them, our mouths sing them and confess them. They shape our minds and transform our hearts. Through them, life was born (Genesis 1:3) and through them, life is saved (John 1:1).

Words change us. From the time my children could speak them and hear them, I’ve attempted to teach them that words matter. That they should be chosen well and with care. That they should be true. Like many families, our rules, sayings, and governing principles revolve around words:

“Speak with gentleness.”
“Just because it’s true, doesn’t mean it should be said.”
“Don’t take joy in being the bearer of bad news.”
“Are you being a peace-maker or peace-breaker?”
“Don’t speak poorly of others.”
“Are your words building up or tearing down?”

Words Shape Beliefs

Actions are immensely important and are said to speak louder, but if you think about it, words in some form generally precede action. Words are heard or read, processed and pondered — and beliefs are formed. And in the end, actions reflect those beliefs. That makes words unbelievably precious in parenting.

When faced with shaping our children, we’re really up against shaping their belief systems, their axioms, their philosophies — their hearts. We’re helping them separate truth from fiction and build the foundation of their faith. Their choices and decisions (like ours) display what they actually believe about the world, about themselves, and about God.

This shaping isn’t a onetime thing, but an ongoing, organic, multi-faceted process:

“Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds. . . . Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” (Deuteronomy 11:18–19)

It’s the teaching and talking as we go about our days and evenings — errands, activities, and everyday lives. Sometimes conversations can go where a sermon cannot.

Shrewd Doves

We raise our babies to send them out like sheep among wolves. It can’t be avoided. Teach them to be “shrewd as snakes” and “innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16). Just one or the other, would result in cynicism or naiveté, but the prudence, insight, and defensive posture of a serpent paired with the meekness, gentleness, and purity of a dove is a powerful thing.

Missionaries are sent out after being taught the culture, language, and struggles of the people they’re being sent to — not to adapt, but to impact. Sending off our children should require no less forethought. Don’t throw them into the deep end expecting them to fight the current, without teaching them to swim.

Teaching our kids to be light to the world’s darkness and salt to the world’s decay doesn’t mean dragging them towards every speck of sin and horror. It’s embarking hand-in-hand on our pilgrimage, fearlessly progressing through the inevitable shadows and rot, showing them how to illuminate and preserve. Because light scatters the darkness and the gates of hell can’t prevail against Christ and his church.

There’s not a single square inch in this broken world where truth cannot be found or darkness cannot be dispelled.

Start ’Em Young

Children are never too young for truth. Don’t underestimate the faith of a child and the power of the Spirit, when they’re still willing to hold our hand and hear our voice. Resist the dumbed-down, shallow, entertaining words that so easily placate their little minds and ears. C.S. Lewis said, “A book worth reading only in childhood is not worth reading even then” — and I tend to believe the same goes for movies, and music, and TV shows, and yes, even our methods for teaching them the Bible.

We can’t expect deep souls that yearn for the truth and beauty of God when we feed them from infancy a steady diet of superficial, sugary-sweet frivolousness. Surround them with what’s good, and true, and excellent so they can readily find and identify it out in the world. We can spot lies when we’ve been soaked in truth.

Letting Go

As our children grow, it’s hard knowing when to start loosening that grip. But God has not given us a spirit of fear, and our faith is in something that can’t be shaken. Each child is different and discretion is essential, but let’s not act as if our God could be toppled by talk of million-year-old dinosaur bones, or atheism, or Santa Claus, or secular song lyrics, or stories with magic wands…. A strong foundation is thoughtful, but not fearful of such things.

As my kids begin developing their own tastes and interests, it’s an active exercise of taking deep breaths, praying for wisdom, and pointing out truth and fiction behind the words coming at us. At first, my efforts are met with eye rolls, but before long, they can’t help but begin to see the same things in words:

“Daughter, do you think someone who talks about loving your body like that singer does would be good at caring for your soul and loving your mind?”

“Wow, that author has an amazing imagination and talent for weaving plots together. Even someone who doesn’t know God can’t help but use his gifts and reflect the yearnings he’s put in us.”

“What is this commercial selling us, and how are they trying to do it?”

“Look at how the world loves beauty, and strength, and happiness, and power…what a great glimpse of how we’re created to be utterly satisfied by God. Their desires are far too weak.”

“Listen to that longing in those lyrics. I don’t think they know God, but man, are they searching for him.”

“Anyone who hears about that kind of violence knows this isn’t how the world is supposed to be. Come again, Lord Jesus, and make new what we’ve broken.”

“I know that kid used inappropriate words and treated you wrongly, but it’s usually the hurt who try to hurt. Let’s pray for him and think of ways to encourage him so he feels cared for and valued.”

“Listen to the wonder that scientist has for the world and its details and systems! It’s amazing how even those who don’t believe in God can teach us so much about our Creator, clearly behind the intricacies and loveliness.”

Greater is He Who Is in Us

We hurriedly cover their eyes and ears, when oftentimes, leading them to truth behind the reality, will soak in far deeper. Our worry that the world will change our children should be overshadowed by our hope that Christ will transform them. How often do I get in the way of the Spirit, as my child works out their faith? As I loosen my grip, it’s a humbling, breathtaking process watching my children see God in places I often overlook:

“I love mythology, but it’s crazy that people actually saw these guys as gods. I’m glad our God is different.”

“[Changing radio station, unprompted] Ugh, I love the tune of that song, but the words are foolish and gross.”

“I’m glad God can fight evil like those characters do, but he doesn’t need a wand or spells when he does it.”

“Do you think that scientist realizes the ‘Big Bang’ he’s describing just sounds like God?”

“Ha, they said you can do anything if you just believe in yourself. That’s ridiculous.”

Using the World’s Words for the Glory of God

We can’t control our children’s hearts, but we can point them to truth. Ask the Spirit for it. Speak it. Pray it. Teach it. Talk about it. Live it.

Teach them to be shrewd with the alluring, twisted, contradictory voices and seek the truth buried underneath — to find the common ground and rejoice in it. Teach them to listen to the broken, grieving, outraged cries and respond back with truth, depth, beauty, and love. Teach them to filter out what’s true and pure and excellent and praise-worthy amongst the billions of words being funneled into our minds and dwell on those (Philippians 4:8). Teach them to juxtapose what’s said against what’s known to be true, exposing it for what it really is (Luke 8:17). Teach them to take words uttered in darkness and strip them of their power, putting them to work for the Kingdom of God (Genesis 50:20).

The longer I parent, the more I realize I can’t hide or hold back the world’s words from my kids. It’s easy to frantically try to plug every little hole in the dam, hoping my children remain perfectly dry and unsoiled from the deluge of opinions and ideas coming at them — selectively sprinkling them with the holy water of my choosing. It can be a noble endeavor.

But the real beauty is raising children who can rise above those flood waters, swim against the current, navigate the changing tides, and help save those who are drowning. Children who don’t waste the words of this world, but use them to display the truth and glory of their Savior.

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[On Family]

Thirteen.

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Thirteen years. Sounds like a lot and a little all at the same time.

When we spent our very first anniversary moving, renovating, and hugely pregnant, we should have guessed that the majority of the ones to follow would be commemorated while doing one or more of those same three things.
I guess when you love making homes and you love each other, you end up with a plethora of broken houses and babies.

We sometimes joke with couples who are young and freshly in love that they probably shouldn’t do what we did. We say all sorts of foreign-sounding things to them like “wait” and “travel,” and “date nights,” and “family planning,” and “maintenance-free apartments.”

Some evenings we talk and dream about what our life would be like if we had just done a tiny bit more “normal.”

But the more we’ve talked and lived, the more we’ve realized the limitations of “one-size-fits-all” types of advice. We’ve made some naive and crazy decisions, and have a bad habit of biting off way more than we can comfortably chew, but I just can’t imagine we’d have the same marriage if we’d lived such a different life.

There’s something about saying “I do” and immediately jumping blind-folded into the deep end, young and barely knowing how to swim that can do crazy things to two people.

You either sink or you ungracefully cling to each other with everything you’ve got. And sometimes the whole becoming one flesh thing happens seamlessly almost by accident. Not because we were good at it, or read the right books, or knew what we were doing, but because it’s the only way we could keep from drowning, and God is good and full of grace.
And while I don’t necessarily recommend that approach, I don’t regret it either.

Because I wonder if we’d have figured out how to love each other so deeply, and fiercely, and necessarily, if we had cautiously eased in. I’m a pretty independent, self-reliant, never-ask-for-help type when I’m not drowning.
But God is big enough and loving enough to use these tsunamis we probably keep bringing on ourselves, to show me we’re so much stronger in our clinging and togetherness than we’d probably ever have pulled off on our own or if we’d cautiously eased our way in.

And here I am four babies, seven renovations, ten houses, twelve bathroom remodels, and thirteen anniversaries into this whole marriage thing and to be completely honest, I am still drowning. We’ve been living out of suitcases for over a year and are more unsettled than we’ve ever been. But while life and marriage can be hard, being in love with this guy can be just so easy. He has a kind heart and really strong shoulders. He loves me so patiently and practically and thoroughly.

The great thing about learning how to be in love when you’re gasping for air, is it’s just that much sweeter and appreciated to be able to do it when you finally catch your breath (even if just for a moment).

And man, I can’t wait to do just a little more normal and slower and settled together.

“If it’s half as good as the half we’ve known, here’s Hail! to the rest of the road.” ~Sheldon Vanauken

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[On Faith]

Give me a Faith that Can be Planted in the Sea

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Faith is able to pluck from the earth, and plant in the sea.
That which could never root or stand among the waves and the storms, apart from the upholding and anchoring of our Almighty.

It’s not our mustard-seed-faith that is great, it’s the great God whom our tiny faith is in. The uprooter of mulberries and mover of mountains…
[Luke 17:6]

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[On Faith]

Parenting a Full Quiver with a Barren Heart

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[Originally published HERE at www.DesiringGod.com]

I had assumed I’d be a great mom. I liked kids, came from a large family, was in high demand during my babysitting heyday, and thought of myself as a decently patient individual.

Then I had children.

Desperately turning to the books and the blogs, I put together my game plan for how I was supposed to be navigating these hard and holy trenches of Christian mothering: delighting in my children, sacrificing for my family, “choosing joy,” being appropriately content with dishes and diapers, and reminding everyone how much “children are a blessing” — because my heart was supposed to be full.

In reality though, my hands were full and my heart was weary.

Parenting was really hard for me in ways I just hadn’t expected. I had faced hard things my whole life as obstacles to conquer and overcome, but parenting was different. No powering through by sheer will, no knocking it out and moving on to the next thing, no easy means of measuring my successes. Was I joyful enough? Was I sacrificial enough? Was I content enough? Was I delighting in everyone enough?

Idol Swap

God was using parenting to sanctify my stubbornly independent, self-sufficient soul. But quietly, unexpectedly, I simply exchanged one idol for another. I had traded in the American Dream of pursuing a successful career for a more religious version of pursuing perfect parenting. While this idol seemed far more holy and sacrificial, in reality it pointed to myself just as much, and was equally as heavy to carry.

I don’t remember exactly when it hit me. Somewhere around the time we started struggling with secondary infertility, and miscarriage, and parenting really difficult and high-energy toddlers, I realized that while I seemed to be checking all the right boxes, my soul felt as parched and lifeless as it had all those years prior when I’d been running from God.

In attempts to fight against a world that suggests otherwise, we can hear so much about the worth and value of motherhood that it becomes dangerously easy to feel as if motherhood is where we attain our worth and value. Satan is just as happy to see us put motherhood or parenting before God as a successful career or self-fulfillment.

How Beautiful Becomes Barren

When motherhood becomes our main focus rather than seeking Christ before and above all else, we are exchanging truth for lies and carrying burdens we were not designed to carry. Idol-carrying always makes beautiful things into barren things. As I walk this path of parenting God has placed before me, I’ve noticed some of the idolatrous lies I’m particularly prone to clinging to.

  1. Family First

We often hear far more about delighting in our children than delighting in the Lord, easily directing our focus away from what should be our source of delight (Psalm 37:4). Our lives must revolve around Christ, not our family, for we cannot nourish their souls if we neglect our own. Be filled first with the joyful, sacrificial, delightful love of Christ and let it overflow into the lives of those around us. We will be significantly better parents and spouses when we do this. Relying on anything else to fill our family is putting our faith and hope for transformation in something other than him.

Whether it’s trying to be a great parent or spouse, being hospitable, making healthy meals, being content in our domestic duties, desiring good behavior from our kids, providing them with a good education — or thousands of other great and godly things — let us count them all as loss compared to “the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:8).

  1. Sacrifice Is All God Wants

You don’t have to be a Christian to give up your wants for those you love. However, as children of God, our serving should draw attention from ourselves to our Father. Not shouting from the rooftops that parenting is the world’s most important job, attacking anyone who suggests a stay-at-home mom isn’t the hardest job on the planet, or always reminding our children and spouse how much we do for them.

Sacrifice can be just as intoxicating as pleasure, and both are wasted when they’re self-centered rather than God-exalting. The Pharisees sacrificed to garner attention and respect, touting their way as the most holy way as they focused on the sacrifice itself. Jesus called them fools for thinking their sacrifice itself was somehow intrinsically holy without the desperate act of placing it upon the altar of a holy God who gives it its worth and value (Matthew 23:1–28).

Only when we devote our sacrifice of parenthood to sacred use, for God’s glory, does it become holy.

  1. Self Instead of the Spirit

One of the heaviest idols we often carry as parents is the burden of self — the idea that it’s all up to us. That our choices dictate who our children become or what kind of parents we will be. Those choices do matter, but ultimately our trust and reliance on God and the work of his Spirit will shape our children more than anything else we could ever say or do. Commit your parenting to the Lord, trust in him, and watch him act (Psalm 37:5).

Drink from the fountain of God’s free, refreshing peace. And do it in the eyes of your children, praying that the Spirit would lead them to do the same (Isaiah 58:11).

Full Quiver, Barren Heart

Parenthood is not some intrinsic means to becoming more holy (in my case, I’m not sure anything has exposed my deeply-rooted sins so quickly and repeatedly), but it is merely one means God chooses to slowly, often painfully, chip away parts of us that aren’t him. We must not focus so much on the chisel that we forget about the Sculptor. Parenting changes us all, but the true and eternal beauty of it comes from the One whose loving hands are using it to patiently shape us into his image.

We can have a quiver-full of children (Psalm 127:4–5) and yet a heart that is barren and sterile, if we are more consumed by God’s gifts than by him. Our children can (and should) be life-changing blessings, but they will never save our soul. Our transformation is not dependent on any particular season or circumstance, but by tasting and seeing that the Lord is good (Psalm 34:8), and knowing his words and truth will not return void.

My highest calling is not marriage or motherhood, but to glorify God and enjoy him forever. This does not make all of the weariness of parenting magically disappear, but it should remind us that the source of our strength and worth is not something we could ever fail or lose. It reminds us not to waste the blessings or to despise the weariness, but to give it all back to Christ so he can break it, multiply it, and hand back to us something far greater.

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[On Faith]

The Art of Womanliness

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[Originally published HERE at www.desiringgod.org]

What does it mean to be a woman?

Few things evoke such emotion as someone questioning, or attempting to define, what it means to be a woman — especially, in my case, a Christian woman. The overarching concept of womanhood trickles down into so many of our roles and relationships that it can easily become the currency by which we measure our worth. We vehemently resist anything that might threaten the foundation of womanliness we’ve defined for ourselves.

What Matters Today?

Lately, I’ve devoted a lot of bandwidth to thinking about and studying the complexities of biblical womanhood, submission, and other gender controversies. One evening, I sat down and began furiously organizing my thoughts and observations into meaningful, impactful words and sentences meant to analyze and “solve” the issues. . . .

And then I stopped. I looked at my passionately penned words and hesitated. Not so much over the words themselves, but the why behind them.

How will grasping these profound theological ideas before I climb into bed impact who I am when I climb back out in the morning? Will my day look different? Will I be a different wife, or mother, or friend? My current struggles and sins would still be there to greet me with the sunrise. I’ve never wanted to be another vague and distant voice adding to the noise.

So I put away my notes and went to bed wrestling with God. What do I need to know about womanhood right now? The next morning, as I woke up to the sun and its colors and God’s beautiful new mercies, I stepped out of bed with the question pressing on my soul, “How will I be an excellent woman and reflect God’s beauty today?”

The Always-Pressing Question

How do I reflect God’s beauty today? This is the question that should be at the forefront of our mind, longing for an answer every hour. It’s what lies beneath all our labels and arguments and definitions — whether you’re a young wife or a grandmother, single or married, eight-years-old or eighty.

It’s the question that mattered when I waved goodbye to the bus carrying my children off to public school, and it mattered when I sat for hours schooling them at home. It mattered when I was waitressing twelve-hour shifts, when I was in D.C. editing military plans to combat weapons of mass destruction, and when I was changing diapers and mediating temper tantrums as a stay-at-home mom.

Like a carefully chosen tattoo on the forearm, we imagine the perfectly defined self-identification will mark us so powerfully as to change how we are perceived in the world. We believe our ideologies or labels will magically make us more obedient and holy or a crusader who cares more about social justice or oppression — without the cost of actually living it out. 

Too often, the vortex of discourse surrounding biblical womanhood blinds us to what it means to live excellently and reflect the beautiful image of God in this very moment, in the next thing we do, or type, or say.

Tell the Story of the Beautiful God

As women, our strengths, our beauty, our value, and the essence of who we are, come from our Creator — the one whose image we bear —long before the gender debates of the twentieth century. My Maker defined me when he selectively impressed his fingerprints upon me as I was formed. He defines all women when he intentionally creates us to reflect unique facets of his beauty.

What does it mean to be an excellent woman, today? It is to tell that story with strength and passion, to magnify the beauty of Christ and delight ourselves in the joy of God as we reflect him in our own unique ways.

Satan hates beauty because he hates the one it reflects. He does his best to destroy it and abuse it and oppress it and contort it into reflecting the broken world rather than God. If he can’t destroy it, he is content to see us spend our days fighting and writing about it. Satan is happy to see us discuss the beauty of womanhood all we want — so long as it distracts us from living it. There is a way to be so paralyzed by every new “how-to,” and so divided by debate that we will never get around to actually submitting our lives to God with a willingness to be led by him wherever it may take us.

A Partial Picture of an Infinite Artwork

We often work backward, focusing so much on presenting ourselves to the world as image-bearers of our chosen ideologies, forgetting whose image we were made to bear. God’s glory needs to overflow into every single aspect of what we do as women — this is what it means to be conformed to the image of Christ.

But what does this look like?

Since the infinite God is the source of our beauty, we could never paint a complete picture of what an excellent and biblical woman looks like. Knowing the source of our beauty and excellence should give us purpose in the small things and humility in the big things. True beauty is not subjective — there are things which are not beautiful — but it is infinite, in that there are endless ways to truly reflect our Artist.

It’s letting go of what my fists are so tightly clenched onto when I’m fighting with my husband. It’s identifying the places my mind wanders when I’m angry or anxious. It’s seeking God’s kingdom at the expense of my own. It’s treating my body as a temple, but not an idol (1 Corinthians 6:19). It’s being greatly saddened by my sin, but joyful in God’s forgiveness of it. It’s putting aside the lesser things that hold me occupied to hold or read to my child, and it’s allowing someone else to hold or read to that same child when God puts other duties before me.

It might be letting others lead when I feel the most equipped, or leading when I feel most unable, because God’s power is perfected in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9). It might be keeping quiet when I feel like shouting, or loudly proclaiming when I feel too timid to even whisper. It might be serving others when I most want to be served; it might be resting when serving draws people to me rather than Christ.

It’s doing my work with excellence. It’s allowing my womanhood and its beauty and its answers to be the fruit of God’s spirit within me, rather than my focus.

The Art of Womanliness

That’s biblical womanhood — the art of womanliness, if you will. It is actually living so beautifully and excellently that the symphony of our lives draws others to the infinite beauty of our designer, drowning out the provocative siren song of the world, whose fleeting and shallow beauty lures only to ugly brokenness.

Art can reflect but never surpass its artist, and when we climb out of bed with the goal of being a masterpiece whose beauty reflects our creator for his glory in the very next thing we do — only then will the ripples of our faithfulness carry on for eternity.

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