As the words of our song reverberated through the Russian cathedral, the memory of those moments etched itself on my soul. Our mission team had come to tour the church. Inspired by the sanctuary’s beauty, we sang God’s praise from the balcony. Never had I heard more beautiful acoustics.
On our way out, a woman who worked in the cathedral spoke to our translator. With tears in her eyes, she explained how she’d prayed for years to hear God praised in another language. Who knew our spontaneous worship would be the answer to a fellow believer’s prayer?
Moments like this feel like ministry. Surrounded by beauty. Inspired by answered prayer. Serving in a country on the other side of the planet.
Parenting, on the other hand, can feel like anything but ministry. Surrounded by messes. Exhausted by relentless needs. Serving in the very real spaces we call home.
It’s easy to think ministry happens out there through people with seminary degrees and a profound sense of calling.
But what if Jesus views parenting as ministry? And if he does, what does the ministry of parenting look like?
Applause erupted as our daughter stood to receive her third award of the evening. She beamed with excitement while walking on stage. I listened to the praise of both her teachers and peers. My heart swelled with joy. Their words confirmed what I already knew—she’s an incredible kid.
At the same time, I ached for her brother, who received no awards that night. He’s an amazing kid, too. He did well in his classes, and his kind, fun-loving personality won him many friends. Still, he took home no awards.
Oh, the depth of conflicting emotions a parent’s heart can hold in the same moment.
On the way home, our son commented, “I wonder why I didn’t get any awards.” I turned in the front passenger seat and looked at him with compassion. I’ve experienced these gut-wrenching feelings before, too. I know what it’s like to anticipate affirmation and come away disappointed. I know how hard it is to celebrate with a friend while trying to mask my own pain.
How can we help our kids deal with rejection?
For 6 ideas on preparing them for both disappointment and success, hop over to Crosswalk:
“I’m your follower!” announced my preschooler in a sing-song voice as she tagged along at my heels. I smiled at her candor, enjoying her company.
Then, the profound truth of her words settled into my soul. My follower. My shadow. A nearly inseparable part of my being during this life season. She watches and continually learns from me (as do her older siblings).
Our children are, quite literally, our followers. Like little disciples, they instinctively look to us as examples, teachers, and leaders. What a privilege! We have the opportunity to introduce them to Jesus, live out the gospel, and model faith in daily life.
And yet, what a sobering responsibility. I don’t know about you, but sometimes this strikes fear in my heart. What if I get it wrong? What about all the times I fall short of being the perfect parent I long to be?
In moments of worry and doubt, we need God to speak truth to our souls.
For eight reminders that can equip us to live well as Christian parents, hop over to Crosswalk:
I’d just gotten off the phone with my friend and the kids’ beloved babysitter. She’d called to say she was on her way over to pick something up.
Our seven-year-old daughter heard my side of the conversation and couldn’t contain her excitement over seeing an actual person somewhere other than a computer screen.
When our friend arrived, the kids rushed onto the front porch to say hello. Though we maintained a six-foot distance and chatted in the front yard, it felt good to enjoy a face-to-face conversation.
Months of social distancing have taken their toll. But they’ve also taught us the value of human connection. Of sharing life with the people who live in our spaces.
It’s easy to take for granted those we love the most. Even in our families, we can unintentionally live parallel lives and forget to enjoy the relationships within our own walls.
I’m thankful for the reminder to see my people. To value our interactions and invest in those around us.
Here are four ways we can be intentional in cultivating togetherness in our homes:
Make room for fun
I’m a bit of a no-nonsense person. At any given moment, I could recite the mental to-do list looming in the back of my mind. Most days, work feels more important than play. Yet if I wait until it’s all done, I’ll never stop to enjoy our life.
I’m learning to see the value in play. For in those moments when we’re simply enjoying each other, I learn a lot about my people — their strengths, their passions, their sense of humor. And I realize that the memories we’re making help build our family and solidify the relationships we share.
So make room for fun — family movie nights and afternoon board games, books read aloud and hikes through the woods, cookie baking and Lego building, bike rides and jumping together on the trampoline. It all adds up to shared experiences and hearts drawn close.
Prioritize one-on-one time
While family time is priceless, our kids need one-on-one time with us, as well. They need to feel seen. To know we like them and want to spend time focused on them.
Ask what they’d like to do together – just the two of you – then do your best to make it happen. I love seeing each child’s personality shine as we spend these times with one another. My oldest daughter likes to scroll through Pinterest or just sit and talk. My son usually wants to build with Legos or take a bike ride. My littlest enjoys baking something we’ve never made before or reading a book.
If you have more than one child, be creative in occupying your other kids while focusing on just one of them. You can designate a “quiet time,” where everyone spends 30 minutes playing or reading in their room. Or set out coloring books on the kitchen table while an audio book plays in the background. Or make a stack of board games for them to play together. Be sure each child knows this is a special time for just you and their sibling, but that they can look forward to their turn soon.
Planning for these times takes some intentionality, as well as a good dose of spontaneity, but it’s well worth making a priority.
Face hard things together
The Bible talks often of the value of facing life with another person. (See Ecclesiastes 4:9-12.) Especially in the hard times, our kids need to know we’re with them and for them. Whether it’s a worldwide pandemic or the uncertainty of a new school year, let’s give our kids the gift of knowing they’re not alone — that come what may, we’re in this together. And that even when we don’t have all the answers, we’ll walk through uncertain times with them.
Recently, God taught me that this concept of togetherness is also helpful when I must administer discipline. As our perfect Father, He wants to walk through hard times with us — even when they’re the result of our own foolish choices. So when possible, face the consequences with your child. If it’s a time out, have them sit in the room with you. If it’s an added chore, grab another broom and help them sweep the floor.
Let’s make sure our kids know we’ll face the future with them.
Invite them in
In Romans 14, we’re reminded to accept those who are different from us, because God also accepts that fellow believer. In the Bible’s original Greek, the word “accept” carries the connotation of welcoming into friendship.
I love that picture and the application it has on day-to-day family life. Each family member is so very unique, yet God calls us to welcome one another into friendship.
Invite them to work with you in the kitchen. Let them join your no-longer-quiet “quiet time.” Share your struggles and what God is teaching you through them. Let them walk with you through the ups and downs and ins and outs of everyday life.
As families, we have the privilege of enjoying human connections each and every day. Let’s invest in those relationships and be purposeful about doing life together.
He’s never been hunting a day in his life, but he dreams that someday he will go. Recently, he told his daddy he wishes they could go moose hunting in Alaska. (I mean, why not start big?)
We’re city people so when my boy wears his camo, it’s more for fashion than functionality. He loves the style, and I love him for it. For many people, though, camouflage has very practical purposes, providing the element of disguise and preventing the person from being seen.
As I type these words, we’re several weeks into a statewide lockdown due to the spread of the coronavirus. My husband has been off work for the past three weeks. And as a family, we’re each dealing with various emotions and grieving significant disappointments.
For us, this is a time of weakness.
We can’t predict what tomorrow holds. Any semblance of control has been stripped away. We trust that God will give us our daily bread (Matthew 6:11), but if I’m being honest, I like the idea of monthly bread better. I prefer a stocked pantry and a sufficient bank account.
I don’t like this emotional roller coaster of the what-ifs that so often invade my mind. Yet repeatedly during these days, God impresses on my heart that it’s good to be in need.
These are camouflaged blessings, these weaknesses which remind us we need God.
Paul understood this reality when he declared, [God] said, ‘My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.’ So now I am glad to boast about my weakness, so that the power of Christ can work through me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9, NLT).
Uncertain days are rich with opportunities for God to show up. A life outside our control reminds us of the good God who’s always in control. Let’s embrace the eternity hidden in these days and point our kids to the God who still works miracles.
Here are some practical tips:
• Pray for awareness
Several months ago, before the Coronavirus became a pandemic, I asked our kids how they’ve seen God answer prayer. Pondering the silence that met my question, I realized how infrequently we pray about specific needs. We pray generally for missionaries and for salvation for the lost. But when we need something, we often look for ways to meet it ourselves. I began asking God to make us aware of our needs so we can see Him working as our provider.
Prayerfully take inventory of your needs—physical, emotional, and spiritual. Make a list or write down each item individually on index cards.
• Talk to God about each need
Using that list or those index cards, pray as a family about each item. Ask for His perspective and for the Holy Spirit’s guidance as you pray.
• Anticipate His provision
Remind yourself of His promises. Here are a few of my favorites:
“And my God shall meet all your needs according to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:19, NIV.)
“…Your Father already knows your needs. Seek the kingdom of God above all else, and He will give you everything you need.” (Luke 12:30-31, NLT).
“You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion…” (2 Corinthians 9:11, NIV).
Write down your favorite verses and display them around the house for encouragement. Choose to worship Him as you wait—singing your favorite praise songs, thanking Him for the blessings He’s already given, remembering what you know to be true of Him.• Reach out to others in need
There’s great joy in serving other people as a family, even when we have our own needs. Ask God to point out ways He wants to use you to invest in the lives of others. Pray for those needs and serve however in whatever ways He leads.
Our greatest needs are often camouflaged blessings, setting the stage for God to work powerfully on our behalf. Let’s seize these opportunities to grow closer to Him as a family. Let’s remind ourselves of His trustworthiness and walk by faith in these uncertain times.
Is His love swayed by your productivity? Must you work hard to keep Him happy? Do you wonder if He’s disappointed with your struggles and frustrated by your frailty?
Joining us today on this topic is my dear friend, Lori Hatcher. Yesterday, she launched her newest book Refresh Your Faith, Uncommon Devotions from Every Book of the Bible. (Grab your own copy here.)
The following post comes from her book, based on a passage from Isaiah.*
“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.”
(Isaiah 40:11)
The early chapters of the Book of Isaiah begin with cinematography that would make the most epic 3-D film look like a kindergartener’s cartoon.
Isaiah describes smoke, thunderous noise, and angelic multitudes crying out in praise before almighty God in his temple. His heavenly glimpse of God in his throne room fills him with awe and fear. “Woe to me!” he cries. “I am ruined!”
Other Scriptures reinforce this image of God, describing him as the Conquering King, Righteous Judge, Mighty Warrior, and Powerful Sovereign. It describes how the oceans churn or quiet at God’s command. One word from God speaks the world into existence. Another has the power to send it up in smoke. With a flick of his mighty arm, thunderbolts fly from heaven. An angry glance from his all-seeing eyes causes the earth to swallow those who disobey his commands.
“See,” Isaiah 40:10 says, “the Sovereign LORD comes with power, and this arm rules for him.”
No doubt about it, God is strong. And God is active.
I’ve always admired these attributes of God (even though I find them more than slightly terrifying), because I like strength and activity. I’m a doer, not a sitter, character traits that fit well with my assumption that God expected me to be like him and work hard on his behalf.
But then I had children.
And my busy, do-lots-of-stuff-for-God life came to a screeching halt. Forget teaching a class, working on the bus ministry, or helping with every function the church sponsored. I could barely get myself and my baby dressed and out the door to attend worship on Sundays.
Then my baby had colic (which I wouldn’t subject any nursery worker in the world to). After colic, she had separation anxiety. She was three years old before she’d go into a toddler class so I could attend adult Sunday school again.
Six months later, her sister was born, and I was back to barely making it to church on Sundays.
My days of do-it-all ministry had come to an end. As far as the kingdom was concerned, I was useless.
A taker instead of a giver.
A dead weight on the gospel ship.
My heart sank to think how disappointed God must be with me. Then I read Isaiah 40:11:
“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.”
Suddenly, I understood that the Mighty Warrior was also a tender shepherd.
The Conquering King stoops down to lift the fragile and the frail.
The Righteous Judge carries his children, not as a burden on his back, but as a treasure near his heart.
The Powerful Sovereign gently leads those who are emotionally tender and physically sapped – and boy, did that describe me in those early childrearing years.
Through Isaiah’s beautiful picture of God, I learned I didn’t have to be productive for God to love me. I didn’t have to perform to earn his favor. I was free to accept what I saw as my season of “inactivity,” knowing that God had not only ordained it, but had a good plan for it.
In his tenderness, he would carry me through my season of mothering if I would rest in him and allow him to lead me.
Isaiah’s picture of God gently leading those with young gave me permission to be frail and vulnerable, knowing that he wouldn’t drive me with his rod, but lead me with his shepherd’s crook.
My children are grown now, and I’m “busy” for the Lord again. As I look back on those childrearing years, I see that they were not fruitless. Once I realized that different seasons of life bring new (and often different) opportunities to minister, I was free to embrace each season instead of chafe at it.
I learned to look for ways to be Jesus’ hands and feet wherever I was, knowing that each day was ripe with potential. And I never again worried that I wasn’t productive enough to satisfy him.
I rested in the fact that the Great I AM is not frustrated by our frailties or impatient with our humanity. Instead, he willingly takes the place of a shepherd to lead with us through our earthly journey.
Uncommon Thought The Great I AM is not frustrated by our frailties or impatient with our humanity. Instead, he willingly takes the place of a shepherd to lead with us through our earthly journey.
Unusual Faith Think a moment about your perception of God. Do you see him as a stern taskmaster, demanding and hard to please?
Or do you see him as a shepherd, gentle and understanding toward your frailties? Do you feel as though you never measure up? That you can’t do enough to please him, especially if you’re in a season of life when you feel unproductive?
Spend time meditating on Isaiah 40:11. Imagine yourself as the lamb the prophet writes about. Picture yourself in the arms of the Savior, carried close to his heart.
Ask God to lead you into a greater understanding of his love and care for you. Then follow where he leads you, trusting that he will use you for his glory, no matter what season of life you’re in.
Unfamiliar Passage Read Isaiah 40:9-13.
*(A Sample Devotion from Refresh Your Faith, Uncommon Devotions from Every Book of the Bible by Lori Hatcher)
