When the Word is planted deep in our hearts and minds, we have it at the ready for every challenging moment of motherhood.

When we feel like grasping for “mine” in motherhood, God reminds us that our lives and responsibilities are ultimately his.

We can choose clarity and compassion when circumstances don’t go our way.

When we see our sin reflected in our children, we have an opportunity to talk to them about their need for grace and God’s power to change us.

With a little gospel imagination, we can see how the things that frustrate us about our kids now could be refashioned to glorify God and serve his kingdom.

Christ didn’t suffer on the cross so we could just survive motherhood. Rather, he defeated death so we could live as righteous ones. As we choose to serve our families with joy and out of love for God, we are transformed by grace into Christ-likeness—yes, through car pick up lines, nighttime wake ups, and toothpaste spills.

I yelled at my daughter the other day. Not a gentle ‘Don’t do that, honey,’ kind of correction, but an angry, ‘What on earth were you thinking?’ reaction.

She, in turn, yelled at her two year old brother for making her do it, and pretty quickly there was a lot of frustration going around for a little bit of spilled sparkling water. A simple misstep halted my child’s creative idea on a nice day, and there we were, yelling at each other as if the offense merited some sort of punishment.

After we cleaned up, I thought about how quickly that moment went from fun to frenzied. Rather than parenting my children with the patience and instruction they need, I responded to a common sibling squabble like I was one of the siblings. 

If a mama speaks out of the overflow of her heart, my overflow had been speaking loud and clear, pointing to the fact that I wasn’t guarding the sources filling my heart-well.

The problem is really simple: it’s me. My heart is. My misplaced worship is. The idolatry of my time and performance is. And the way I feed these things by comparing myself to other mothers, that’s the problem.

And the way I’ve sought to fill my life with the things God tells us will not satisfy—these are the barrier between me and the mom that I want to be. As I’ve escaped to worldly influences, I’ve robbed my soul of the fellowship with my Savior that it needs, and I’ve seen firsthand the difference between the overflow of a heart filled with treasure and a heart filled with idols.

Motherhood is one way God makes his goodness tangible, and I am learning each day that to be the mom I want to be, to experience that goodness, I have to begin with a posture of humility; which is sometimes as simple as the choice between one of the many temporary comforts fighting for my affection, and repentance. Simple, pure, childlike repentance of my sin. Because we’re all in need of saving from the thing that keeps us from God and from one another.

But the best news for all of us is that grace is already there.

He hurt my baby. In an effort to protect his beloved train from her intruding little fingers, the boy reached over and pushed my daughter headfirst into the pointed edge of another toy.

My heart raced with emotion as I swooped her up. Scenes like this are many in the world of children. And though maybe a bit more polished and professional, these interactions are not all that uncommon among the mommies of little ones, as well.

Created in God's image, we detect injustice acutely.

Injustice causes a gap. When a person wrongs us, intentionally or not, a breach in intimacy and connection occurs. Trust is severed. Security threatened.

Whether we discern the gap's existence or not, we sense innately that some act of justice must occur to overcome the divide.

Maybe you know the feeling. 

Maybe your husband doesn’t help as much as he should. Maybe your children sling mean words that pierce you with the feeling of rejection as a mother. Maybe another mom in your small group, or your mother-in-law, or your mom always offers you helpful suggestions on how to be a good mom, and you can never measure up to her standards.

Whether words and actions are simply inconsiderate or blatantly intentional, all of us know what it is to be wronged...

We lay down all our defenses because Jesus extends to us forgiveness undeserved.

Forgiveness that cancels our record of debt, our guilty standing, our condemnation. His blood reconciles us to God, inviting us into his presence. Jesus welcomes us when our experience is one of pain, ridicule, or shame. He hears our helpless cries when we choose not to defend ourselves. He whispers to us the most tender and comforting expression of one who's been there: I know.

We forsake giving others the power to stake claim on our identity, and we hide ourselves in this Savior, rather than use our own futile measures to defend our worth and dignity and thus widen the gap.

As mothers, we can be tempted to find our righteousness in giving our children the picture-perfect childhood, filled with super-food meals and the best education possible. Somehow we falsely believe that if we can be the ideal Proverbs 31 wife and mother, we will earn favor with God.  

Yet our hope is solely in what Christ has already done, what he accomplished for us on the cross.

Our righteousness will never come from being good enough. It comes from Christ, who granted us new life in himself and placed trust in our hearts—trust in the one atoning death that covers all our sin. Second Corinthians 5:21 tells us, “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”

Every day, each time we fail to keep God’s perfect commands, what glorious assurance we can have.  For we know that our righteousness is not in anything that we do, but in Christ alone. When we fail, when we sin, amidst the remorse and regret, we can thank God for his commandments.  For they reveal our imperfections and lead us to the cross, our only hope of ever being counted good enough."
 

We claim to believe it, but what really stirs in our hearts when we don’t get the job we applied for? How about when our kids disobey, or don’t do things the way we hope? What runs through our minds when dinner burns, or—even more practically—when our little one wakes early and interrupts our morning “quiet time?”...

What if we accepted the beauty that God, in his sovereignty, wants to cultivate something different than we expected in the hours of that missed nap? We might have a fussy toddler on one hip and a screaming baby on the other, but circumstances like these press us into the joy of sanctification that the Lord graciously ordained in order that we might look more like his Son.

He isn’t asking us to go anywhere that he himself hasn’t been. Isn’t this what Jesus did for us over 2,000 years ago as he prayed, ““Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done” (Luke 22:42).

By his example, Jesus enables us to surrender everything about our lives for the sake of those around us.
 

When I find myself losing my temper with my children more often than normal, it can be easy for me to spiral downward, feeling guilt, condemnation and listening to the lies from Satan that I cannot change.

But when I believe this lie, what's really happening is I'm believing that I am beyond the reach of God's grace – I'm believing that the cross wasn't enough.