Strength Under Control: Growing in Gentleness as a Mom

Trailing behind my daughter as she led the bridled beauty into the ring, I paused and leaned against the fence, tilting my face towards the sky. Autumn’s slanted sunbeams glittered and danced through crimson treetops. Glancing back toward the arena, I smiled as Lauren mounted the chestnut horse, urging him to trot.

Calm and assertive, her voice soothed as her hands softly stroked encouragement. For years, I had observed my favorite girl, ponytail swishing as she mucked stalls, brushed flanks, smoothed tangled manes, deftly scooped oats, and replenished countless water buckets. When the horses cooperated, she rewarded them with ragged chunks of apple, praising in low, steady tones as they nudged her affectionately.

If the horses tested her—and they did—every shred of nippy defiance was met with calm correction. Lauren never raised her voice but stood undisturbed and attentive, her boots firmly planted in the dirt.

I witnessed other equestrians in neighboring stalls shouting at mares and geldings and slapping those shiny, stubborn flanks into submission. While neither excessive nor cruel, their harshness was received poorly and returned in kind. All manner of bucking, kicking, whinnying, stomping, and plain old grumpiness ensued, which led to further roars. A hard-to-break cycle.

Lauren’s judicious approach, on the other hand, yielded a pleasant reward: magnificent beasts who desired to please their boss. Their responses mirrored a trainer who was winsome and tranquil yet firm in boundaries—strength under control.

Under Lauren’s guidance, horses were gentled.

Gentled by Jesus

As mothers, we are presented with endless opportunities to train our children, aren’t we? And yet, we find ourselves in need of training and discipline as well. When duties and disruptions fill our days, temptations to be harsh or lash out can multiply. Mountains of laundry, sticky countertops, dirty dishes, and stinky diapers. Untied shoes and unfinished homework. The constant ferrying of our loves to play dates and practices. Stomach viruses and fevers, family arguments, broken-down vehicles, and shattered hearts. Each of these scenarios is an invitation from Christ to put aside the natural inclinations of our heart and practice his gentleness instead. 

It is common to mistake gentleness for an inherent trait—like extroversion or brown eyes or left-handedness—rather than acknowledging such a virtue for what it really is: a fragrant fruit of Christ’s Spirit.[1] Gentleness is a serenity of soul—a peaceful contentment anchored in love for and devotion to our Redeemer. Strength under control. But how can we possibly muster this up in the tumultuous times of motherhood? 

We can’t. Like the other fruits of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, etc.—gentleness is not something we can bring to life ourselves. It’s not a random virtue we try on for size. It is a divine outflow—growing proof of who governs our soul. 

As we learn to listen to his voice—to turn aside from our sin and stay tethered to his Word— Jesus gentles us. He brings us under the control of the Spirit, that we might do the good works which he prepared in advance for us to do—including in our homes.[2] We must be gentled by Christ before we can mother gently.

Mothering Gently

My dear friend Susan has a delightfully large brood of children, whom she nurtures with exquisite gentleness. She corrects her children softly but never passively. Her love for God and pursuit of holiness are bound up in obedience to Scripture, lovely and remarkable in their simplicity. She loves God most, and his gentleness fills her being and overflows upon her children. Her soul is like a peaceful lake of glass.

I’ve noticed that, like my daughter’s horses, Susan’s children want to please their mama. She speaks about the gospel repeatedly to her loves, and her presence is winsome. I have been privileged to witness her gentle spirit calm her home through both mundane stretches of motherhood and intense fiery trials. She glows with the indestructible beauty of a quiet spirit[3]—a golden sunrise that warms others. 

Maybe you’re thinking, “But I’m loud, extroverted, and energetic! How can I possibly be gentle?” Is your soul gentle and quiet? Are you being “tamed,” day after day, by Jesus? You can have an outgoing, high-intensity personality and still be a tender, gentle mother to your children. On the flip side, you could be a naturally shy, subdued woman and be found lacking in true gentleness, repeatedly harsh with your words or cutting with your eyes. 

Jesus was strong and gentle, wasn’t he? He exuded kind compassion for the weak and downtrodden: “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out” (Isaiah 42:3a, NIV). Jesus was gentle with hurting, wayward people but also bold in calling soul-sick sinners to repentance.[4]

As mothers, we are gifted with the precious care of little souls. Bodies that succumb to sickness and thirst for a soft, gentle hand. Sinful souls that require correction and an about-face. May we turn small shoulders softly. May we exhibit strength under control. May we reflect our gentle Savior.

[1] Galatians 5:22-23

[2] Ephesians 2:10

[3] 1 Peter 3:3-4

[4] Matthew 9:12-13