One winter morning, I got a last-minute phone call that our school carpool fell through. Someone was sick, and so I was asked to drive instead. A few scrambling minutes later, I was driving north, then backtracking south, before finally heading west on the road to school with a minivan full of kids. An already long commute became twenty minutes longer. Internally, my heart was stuck on how very inconvenient this was. I was annoyed by the detour God had providentially planned for that morning.

Those extra minutes on the road gave me extra time to look into my heart. Why was I valuing convenience above serving my neighbor? If I was honest with myself, wasn’t my annoyance evidence that I had become unwilling to go out of my way for others? Was I even thinking about convenience and inconvenience in biblically sound ways?

God seems to prioritize something other than convenience as his plan of salvation unfolds. He was in no hurry to bring the promised offspring, Isaac, to Abraham and Sarah. He provided manna in the wilderness just one day at a time. Resting every seventh day was an inconvenient boundary for God’s people, considering how often they failed to keep the Sabbath. A suffering Messiah, an infant born of a virgin, and an already–not yet kingdom are neither comfortable nor convenient methods for redemption by human standards.

Might it be that delayed fulfillment, desert detours, and daily bread are effective teachers precisely because they are inconvenient? Maybe the high value our world places on convenience — from smartphones and GPS to grocery delivery and overnight shipping — makes us wrongheadedly expect God to change us in some easy way, apart from uncomfortable circumstances. In times when convenience is so valued, expected, and even demanded, it might be worth asking how God matures us specifically through inconvenience.

Consider four benefits that regularly come to us through inconvenience.

1. Welcome the fruit of the Spirit.

Inconvenience is an opportunity to cultivate the fruit of the Spirit. Uncomfortable, inconvenient circumstances are often the very means the Holy Spirit chooses to cultivate his fruit in us, perhaps patience most acutely. Like many others before me, I thought of myself as a patient person until God gave me children. The baby that wouldn’t fall asleep, the toddler who needed so many reminders, the teenager who kept losing his newest coat — these have revealed to me just how impatient I truly am. But how can I grow in patience unless my patience is tried?

“In his wise providence, God ordains convenience and inconvenience alike.”

Just as God tried his people in the furnace of affliction (Isaiah 48:10), so God tries me in the furnace of inconvenience. If I am honest with myself, even the most petty inconveniences can cause impatience, grumbling, and self-centeredness to flare up in my heart and my speech. How necessary joy, patience, peace, gentleness, and self-control are in such moments, however insignificant they seem — and what an opportunity such moments offer for growing in these precious qualities!

2. Heed the call of Christlike love.

Inconvenience caused by others’ needs gives us an opportunity to practice costly love. In Matthew 5, Jesus gives our heart a reality check. Easy love, he says, is neither remarkable nor a mark of God’s kingdom. “If you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?” (Matthew 5:46). Instead, he presses us to do something much more difficult and costly, something that he does — love sacrificially, looking to a greater reward than convenience (Matthew 5:44–45; John 15:12–13).

Sacrificial love is not convenient. It assumes a loss, a sacrifice of some kind, whether large or small. It could be the sacrifice of time or a good night’s sleep. It could be the sacrifice of comfort in order to have a difficult conversation or helping to bear the burden when someone is going through a difficult trial. It could be the sacrifice of a kidney donation to a relative or postponing needed chemotherapy for the sake of a child growing in the womb. Whatever the sacrifice, it won’t be convenient. But the heavenly joy that comes from giving of ourselves for others is far greater than the temporary benefits of convenience.

In Philippians 2, Paul reminds us that sacrificial love begins with humility, ends in glory, and is always a reflection of Jesus:

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind in yourselves which is yours in Christ Jesus. . . . He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death. . . . Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name . . . to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:3–11)

If we are determined to keep our lives convenient, then our lives will display little of the glorious love of Jesus. Inconvenience is often an opportunity, however small, to look out for the interests of others and be rewarded by our Father in heaven.

3. Embrace your creaturely limits.

When I drive from Minneapolis to St. Paul, I’m limited to roads with bridges across the river. The Mississippi is an unavoidable reality, at times an inconvenience, but it is the kind of inconvenience that reminds me that God made this world and I am only a creature in it, hemmed in by God-ordained limits. Just as a river moves within the borders of its banks, I too live within the mortal limits that God has given me. I can rage and rebel against those limits, and my life will grow increasingly chaotic and destructive, like the Mississippi in flood season. Or I can embrace the limits God has given me and thank him for hedging in my days and my ways.

Sickness regularly reminds us of our humble creatureliness. Food poisoning, pneumonia, a high fever and aches — these have the ability to cancel whatever fine plans or high demands we had for the day. We’re often tempted to feel anxious about how this sickness will slow us down, and we lose sight of the opportunity to stop and surrender our mortality to God. Home or car repairs are often inconvenient, expensive, and frustrating, but they are yet another reminder that created things don’t last forever. Moth and rust will destroy, but our treasure in heaven is imperishable (Matthew 6:19–20). When we lay our heads on the pillow each night, we’re reminded that we cannot work nonstop, even if we want to. We lie down and rise again in the morning because our heavenly Father continues to sustain us (Psalm 4:8).

4. Remember that God is in control.

Inconvenience reminds us that God is in control. In his wise providence, God ordains convenience and inconvenience alike. Not only our sleep but also “rain and drought, fruitful and lean years, food and drink, health and sickness, poverty and prosperity — all things, in fact, come to us not by chance but by his Fatherly hand” (Heidelberg Catechism, Lord’s Day 10). The closed road, the canceled appointment, the snowstorm that prohibits travel, the school lunch that was left on the counter — all these inconveniences announce to us, like a neon sign, that God is in control and we are not.

When we find ourselves rolling our eyes in the grip of the most recent inconvenience, it may be time to take a deep breath and praise God that although “the heart of man plans his way,” the Lord “establishes his steps” (Proverbs 16:9). Every inconvenience provides a concrete circumstance in which we can live out a glad submission to our heavenly Father.

I’ve learned to laugh at myself for my rising impatience when traffic slows to a halt. How can I feel so busy and then be annoyed when God literally slows me down and gives me a minute to rest? The traffic jam, the power outage, the long grocery line, the empty printer cartridge, the lost library book, the misplaced keys — in every inconvenience, we can pray, as Jesus taught us, “Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10).

Though there is far more to our lives than inconvenience, God wills that we experience it nearly every day and that we respond with faith and grace. May there be enough inconvenience in our lives that when we get a last-minute call to help a friend in need, our first response is not impatience but delight in the God-ordained detour, giving us extra miles on the road to love God with all our heart and love our neighbor as ourselves.

Midway along the journey of our lifeI woke to find myself in a dark wood,For I had wandered off from the straight path.

Here at the beginning of the Inferno, Dante is lost in what he calls “a bitter place” and a “wasteland.” He has no hope of getting out of the dark and into the light until a guide approaches him, the Roman poet Virgil. As the story continues, they must travel down through the icy core of hell and then up through the other side until, finally, Dante makes it to the light he seeks — to Paradise.

Like Dante, along the journey of our life, many of us have unexpectedly found ourselves in a dark wood, a bitter place — the wasteland of discontentment. Somewhere, somehow, we wandered off from the straight path. We remember a time when we felt more satisfied, more whole, more at rest. We felt less inclined to grumble, to compare, to covet. But now, in this barrenness of discontentment, our thirst for more never seems quenched. Our hunger for different circumstances never goes away. No matter how “good” life is, we still feel generally miserable. How did we get into this wasteland in the first place? And how can we ever get out?

Happiness That Holds

At first glance, cultivating contentment can seem like a light topic. We may simply think, Yay! I’m going to be a happier person! But contentment reaches much deeper than that.

In The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment, Puritan Jeremiah Burroughs describes contentment as a habit of heart that submits to and takes deep satisfaction in God’s wise and fatherly will in any condition. He bases this definition on the apostle Paul’s words in Philippians 4:11–13: “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. . . . I can do all things through [Christ] who strengthens me.” Both Paul and Burroughs recognize humanity’s diabolical ability to be discontent in any circumstance — in plenty or hunger, in abundance or need. The remedy they offer is not a change of circumstances, but a contentment that is built upon something far more stable than the changes and chances of this fleeting world.

When we talk about contentment, we’re not talking about picnics and puppies. We’re talking about real enemies and spiritual armor. True contentment isn’t light, like a helium balloon. It’s weighty, an anchor that holds us fast through storms and deep waters. Godly contentment doesn’t rise and fall with our circumstances; it stands on the faithfulness of God. It isn’t wishful thinking; it is faithful feeling and living, rooted in the all-sufficiency of Christ (Philippians 4:11–13).

And that means discontentment is worse than we may have realized.

Maker of Wastelands

In fact, discontentment goes back to the work of the devil himself. We wander into the wasteland of discontentment the same way Eve did, when a serpent slithered into paradise speaking lies and spreading doubt.

Surely, no woman had life as good as Eve did. She was the very first woman, made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). Along with Adam, she was blessed by God and given meaningful work to do: “be fruitful and multiply,” “fill the earth and subdue it,” and “have dominion” (Genesis 1:28–29). And God equipped her with everything she needed for the task: “every plant yielding seed and every tree with seed in its fruit” — all that was necessary for food and fruitfulness (Genesis 1:29–30). Everything God had made, everything God had blessed, everything God had given — everything was “very good” (Genesis 1:31). But a day came when it wasn’t good enough for Eve. Satan crept in and planted a lie that moved her restful heart to restlessness (Genesis 3:1–6).

Listening to the empty promise of more, Eve walked straight into Romans 1 and exchanged the truth of God for a lie. She exchanged satisfaction for craving, blessing for curse, life for death. She exchanged the garden for a wasteland.

“True contentment isn’t light, like a helium balloon. It’s weighty, an anchor that holds us fast through storms.”

Does this sound familiar, like we’ve been here before? No matter what we have, in our discontentment, we daughters of Eve always want more. God’s generous provision suddenly seems strangely insufficient, and we go searching for something else. Deep down in our discontented hearts, we think we are wiser than God, and we dare to tell him what is best for us. And like Eve, we return empty-handed every time. As the Puritan Thomas Watson said, “Oh, this devil of discontentment . . . whenever it possesses a person, [it] makes his heart a little hell!” (The Art of Divine Contentment, vi).

Discontentment makes a wasteland. A wasteland is a bleak, neglected place where nothing good grows. It is what happens when we fail to “tend and keep” the garden we’ve been given. We stand with clenched fists, demanding our own way instead of bearing fruit. Our hands and our hearts become barren.

‘Except If’ Obedience

What do we do when the “garden” of our circumstances is not what we asked for? Too often, we offer to God “except if” obedience. We’re patient and kind, except if the kids are up at night or we’re struggling to get out the door for school. We speak graciously, except if we’re stressed out. We rejoice in our trials, except if this is the second trial in one week. We do all things without grumbling, except if there is a real reason to complain. We trust God, except if we don’t understand what he’s doing.

Our “except if” obedience is really not obedience at all; it is the same rejection of God’s will that we see in Eve when she eats the fruit. We want to become like God by arranging our lives according to our own preferences instead of trusting and obeying God no matter what today holds. No matter what excuses we make for ourselves, at the heart of discontentment is our self-rule in competition with God’s rule. At odds with both our Creator and our circumstances, no wonder discontentment feels so miserable. The garden has become a wasteland.

Thankfully, in God’s economy, the wasteland can also become a garden. Streams flow in the desert (Isaiah 35:6), and those who trust the Lord are like green, fruitful trees even in heat and drought (Jeremiah 17:7–8). This is what happens when God’s will is done “on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10). Earth, with all its chaos and confusion, becomes more like heaven when we contentedly get to work in the circumstances God has given us — however bleak they may seem.

Mother Mary Full of Faith

The skill and mystery and beauty of contentment is to want what we have been given, because we can do God’s will right where we are. Even the most difficult circumstances cannot ultimately prevent us from trusting God, rejoicing in God, and bearing fruit in faith, extending God’s garden in a wasteland world.

If our discontentment makes us like Eve, godly contentment makes us like Mary the mother of Jesus. Like a second Eve, she teaches us how to respond in faith to God’s revealed will. After receiving God’s word from Gabriel, she responds so simply: “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).

Eve fell to the temptation to be like God, but Mary confesses she is a servant of God. Eve rejected what God had provided, but Mary accepts God’s will. Eve doubted God, but Mary takes God at his word. And God’s word bears fruit in her life.

Christian contentment makes us more than mere onlookers; it makes us participants in God’s kingdom. When we trust God like Mary did, we do the work of a gardener — we bear fruit! In God’s providence, our circumstances are not obstacles but opportunities to do his will right here, on earth as it is in heaven.

The Garden Virtue

In “The Contented Man,” G.K. Chesterton observes, “True contentment is a thing as active as agriculture. It is the power of getting out of any situation all that there is in it. It is arduous and it is rare.”

Contentment is not neutral, like a patch of bare soil with neither weeds nor fruit. True contentment allows us to roll up our sleeves, grab a spade, and get to work growing things.

One of the most beautiful fruits that grows in the garden of contentment is “no matter what” obedience. A contented woman is patient and kind no matter what’s going wrong. She rejoices in trials no matter how many there are. She trusts God no matter what. Her speech is filled with grace no matter what. She controls her thoughts and emotions no matter what. She gives thanks for these circumstances no matter what because she knows that these circumstances, even if not good in themselves, are working something very good for her. She has all she needs to do God’s will, right here in this house, in this neighborhood, in this family, in this suffering, in this joy. Let it be to her according to God’s word. She is content, and she bears fruit.

We are like gardeners, and our circumstances are our garden plot. Discontentment looks at that ground and sees only a wasteland. But godly contentment will gladly turn a wasteland into a fruitful garden — for God’s glory and for the life of the world.

Older women . . . are to be reverent in behavior. (Titus 2:3)

Though I wasn’t aware of it at the time, as a young girl I was always watching the older women in our small local church. I remember them — their faces, their names, their lives.

Without being overly serious, they were serious about their walk with God. They weren’t public speakers, but when they spoke, others listened. Though they didn’t draw attention to themselves, my attention was drawn to their grace and beauty, a beauty that transcended current fashion and hair trends. In many ways, they were just ordinary women, but there was something about them, a sense of depth and solidity that I remember to this day. In Titus 2:3, Paul calls this something reverence.

What is reverence? Would you be able to define it for a third grader — or for your neighbor or coworker? I’m guessing that you (like me) might falter, because reverence seems to have gone the way of the wall-mounted telephone. Reverence demands a fitting response to the true nature of things — whether persons, circumstances, or natural wonders. Someone who is reverent respects the respectful, laughs at the laughable, mourns over the mournful, and glorifies the glorious.

In Titus 2, Paul expects of the older women conduct that fits a holy person — conduct that corresponds to reality, to their redemption and sanctification in Christ. In a word, reverence.

Redeemed for Reverence

Such reverence may seem obsolete in our day, in part due to our society’s strong resistance to any sense of givenness — of reality — to which we must conform. Humans claim the right to determine their purpose, their gender, their identity, their authority, their morality. At the heart level, this is the creature’s rebellion against the Creator God, who alone determines reality.

“Reverent behavior is the overflow of a heart that lives in the presence of God.”

Since the fall, humankind has bent toward irreverence: demanding self-rule and autonomy, “seeking to transcend creatureliness and become one’s own origin and one’s own end,” as John Webster puts it (Holiness, 84). Such rebellion is as unfitting to reality as a gold ring in a pig’s snout or a king drunk in the morning (Proverbs 11:22; Ecclesiastes 10:16–17). Restoration to reverent living as a creature in renewed fellowship with the Creator requires nothing less than a work of redemption.

And that is exactly the reason Paul gives for the reverent behavior of older women in Titus 2. Reverence is in accord with sound doctrine (2:1) — in other words, with the gospel. “The grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people” (2:11), and the right response is that we “renounce ungodliness” and “live . . . godly lives in the present age” (2:12). Reverence fits redemption like laughter fits a good joke, or lemonade fits a humid summer afternoon, or books fit a library. It is as beautiful as expensive ointment poured out on Jesus’s feet (Matthew 26:10).

What sets godly women apart, then, is that their lives correspond to the reality that Jesus reigns and that he is their saving Lord. They trust the Trustworthy One. They serve the Sovereign One. Their lives are increasingly a testimony to the way life was meant to be. No longer curved in on themselves, they are oriented toward Jesus in all things.

Alive to God’s Reality

Reverent behavior is the overflow of a heart that lives in the presence of God. A godly woman doesn’t “temporarily disable” his holy presence, even for five minutes. Her speech is not slanderous (Titus 2:3) because she speaks the truth about others, even in the privacy of her own thoughts. Because Christ is her sovereign Master, she isn’t enslaved to anything (2:3), whether wine or working out, appearance or attention, envy or anxiety, fears or fantasies.

She loves her husband (2:4), because God has given her this one man to bless, serve, care for, and help in every way possible, so that he might be the man God has called him to be. She gives of herself to bless her children (2:4), even when she least feels like it, because Christ gave himself for her when she least deserved it. She is not controlled by her emotions (2:5), because her emotions are properly ordered under Christ. She is, as John Calvin writes, “consecrated and dedicated to God in order that [she] may thereafter think, speak, meditate, and do, nothing except to his glory” (Institutes, 3.6.1).

Maybe we should read that again. “Think, speak, meditate, and do nothing except to God’s glory”? Nothing? The sobering (and inspiring) answer is “Yes — nothing.” The call is inspiring because it gives us a glimpse of the beauty of gospel obedience. It is sobering because it leaves no part of our heart or life outside of the loving reign of Jesus.

Growing up, one of my cousins often refused to let me play with a handful of her toys on the grounds that they were “special to her.” (That was a long time ago. Today she is one of the most reverent women I know!) In our flesh, sometimes we hope for a similar loophole. We want just a little tucked-away corner, a junk drawer where we can stash our most “special” idols that we would prefer Jesus not touch, a small realm where we can keep our self-rule. But that little junk drawer is a place of irreverence, of absurdity, where we still try to live in unreality, sitting on an imaginary throne in a personal insurrection against God.

Housekeeping of the Heart

A life of reverence is a life of increasing surrender to God’s will. Even our reverence comes to us on God’s terms, not ours. We do not instantaneously become creatures who “do nothing except to God’s glory.” He made us creatures who grow — slowly, with intentionality, over time.

The pursuit of reverence is less like a clean house before guests arrive, and more like a perpetual cleaning day. It is like housekeeping our heart: turning on every light, opening every cupboard, and chasing away every remnant of rebellious self-rule, every stronghold of the world, the flesh, and the devil (1 John 2:15–17). This is the work of every day, not a one-and-done affair. To be reverent is to regularly repent of irreverence and always trust in the gospel reality of our forgiveness and reconciliation in Christ.

This steady drumbeat of repentance and faith is the means by which the reverent woman opens up her whole life in obedience to God, no exceptions, and the fruit of such reverence is stunning. By her reverent speech, appetites, affections, emotions, attitudes, actions, and submission (Titus 2:3–5), the gospel is magnified, not maligned (2:5), and the reality of the glorious reign of Jesus is adorned before an irreverent world (2:10).

Road to Reverence

What other means has God given us to cultivate godly reverence today? He has given us his word as his revelation of reality and of his will. We cannot merely consult it. We need to read and read and read it again, until we find God’s word “reading” us. He has also given us his ear. We go to God in prayer, asking of him the growth that he has already promised to give. God delights to answer such prayers.

He has given us his Spirit, who convicts us of our own false living, prompts us to specific surrender and obedience, and guides us into all truth (John 16:13). Finally, he has given us examples to follow. Besides the reverent women in our own lives, we have biographies of seasoned saints that both encourage and challenge us on the road to reverence.

As we grow increasingly reverent, we become more of who we truly are: children of light (Ephesians 5:8–10). With our gaze fixed on our Savior, we may wake up to find that a younger generation is watching us, learning to treasure the beauty of godly reverence.

“Now it happened that as he was praying alone, the disciples were with him” (Luke 9:18). At first, this verse might seem confusing. Jesus was praying alone. But his disciples were with him. So, was he alone? Or wasn’t he? The mom in me can’t help but chuckle.

All it takes is changing the pronouns to convert this verse into a familiar scenario for those with small children. “Now it happened that as she was praying alone, her disciples were with her.” Maybe tapping her on the shoulder, prying her hands off her eyes, asking for something to eat, or actually nursing at that moment. So, is she alone? Or isn’t she?

Like Jesus, moms are rarely without their disciples. And though they cannot say, as Jesus could, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9), moms are constantly teaching their children about their heavenly Father, whether they realize it or not.

Disciples with Little Disciples

When the laundry pile is high, the refrigerator stock low, the beds unmade, and a Bible nowhere to be found, mothers may feel like the least likely candidates for the post of theological student, let alone teacher. But the truth is, Christian moms are both.

From the moment they wake up in the morning to the moment they go to bed, a Christian mom is living based on an idea of who she is and for whom she was made. She is a disciple of Jesus and she belongs to God. How she does what she does — how she speaks, how she responds, how she comforts, how she disciplines, how she eats, drinks, works, and rests — in everything she is teaching her children something about her heavenly Father. All day long (and sometimes all night!), her disciples are with her.

Moms don’t just have disciples. Moms are disciples. And part of discipleship is learning to speak well about God in all we say and do. The atheist and the astrologist each say something about God. Pastors and parents do as well. What we may not realize as moms is that theology is not optional. It’s unavoidable. We already have theology. The question, then, is whether our theology is good theology.

What is good theology? Good theology knows and speaks the truth about God — what he is like and what he is doing in the world through Jesus Christ. In Knowing God, J.I. Packer says that good theology leads us to know God, not just to know about him. Good theology leads to doxology — delighted worship that works itself out in our daily lives.

“Good theology gives us direction for our everyday life. It is not irrelevant or out of reach.”

If this feels like an intimidating task, you are in good company. After speaking at length about God, Job ends with his hand over his mouth, saying, “I will proceed no further” (Job 40:4–5). In his Confessions, Augustine says, “After saying all that, what have we said, my God, my life, my holy sweetness? What does anyone who speaks of you really say?” (1.4.4). The posture of all sound theology is humility, because to speak anything about God is dangerous. Blasphemy is a real possibility. What gives a mom hope that she can speak rightly about God at all?

Mothering Blindfolded

We would never be able to speak rightly about God through our words and actions, if God himself had not first spoken to us. But he has! Hebrews 1:1–2 says,

Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world.

God the Father has spoken to us in the Son, in the gospel, and in his written word. The Son has sent us the Spirit to guide us “into all the truth” (John 16:13). Christian mom, do you know who made the world? Do you know why the world is full of evil and suffering? Do you know humanity’s biggest problem? Do you know the only one who can save us? You know more theology than you may realize.
Our theology reveals how well we do — or do not — understand the story that we are in. It is as practical as the script and character descriptions in a play. Or a good map on a hiking trip. Or a light in a dark room. Good theology gives us direction for our everyday life. It is not irrelevant or out of reach.

“Disregard the study of God,” Packer writes, “and you sentence yourself to stumble and blunder through life blindfolded, as it were, with no sense of direction and no understanding of what surrounds you. This way you can waste your life and lose your soul” (Knowing God, 19). Good theology, however, opens our eyes to the glory of God in all things, including our calling as a mom.

Holding Class in the Kitchen

As mothers, we speak of God when we fill our children’s bottomless bellies. How do we respond when our children are hungry, again? Sometimes it feels like feeding is all we do! Surely we were made for something more glorious than life as a short-order cook for picky toddlers and teenagers?

And yet Jesus says, “The bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh” (John 6:51). He didn’t just break the bread. He is the bread. He is the one who taught us to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread” (Matthew 6:11). In gladly feeding our children each day, we are teaching them about their heavenly Father, who cares for their most basic needs. In giving of ourselves to feed our children, we’re living as disciples of Jesus, who gave his body for the life of the world.

We speak of God when we train our children. Does our average day feel eerily similar to a Calvin and Hobbes comic strip? Does the creative sin of our little disciples astound us? Can it send us into another episode of “little sinners in the hands of an angry mom,” as we add our sin to theirs?

In a fallen world, sin is not surprising. But grace is. What an immense grace that a momma’s calm heart in a tense moment teaches her children true things about their heavenly Father, that he “is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). When we ask forgiveness of our children, they learn to confess to the One who “is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).

“As mothers, we will speak of God truly to our children only if we truly know him ourselves.”

We also speak of God in our suffering. Scripture teaches us that suffering can make or break our faith. Like a sound sailing vessel in a wild storm, sound theology keeps our faith from floundering in the ups and downs of motherhood. When our little ones suffer bumps and bruises, nights of illness or long-term diagnoses, our comfort and care as mothers teaches them about Jesus, who entered our suffering in order to bring “many sons to glory” (Hebrews 2:10).

Our hope in God’s promise of redemption teaches our children that God is good. He turns suffering into glory. “After you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you” (1 Peter 5:10). Our perseverance through trials big and small tells our children that the resurrection is real.

As mothers, we will speak of God truly to our children only if we truly know him ourselves. To glorify God by enjoying him forever, we need to know our God. So, we heed the prophet’s charge: “Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord” (Hosea 6:3). Many moms, however, feel hard-pressed just to get diapers changed and dinner on the table. Asking them to press on into the task of good theology may feel like Pharaoh telling the Israelites to make bricks without providing the straw.

Remember, theology is not optional. If we don’t intentionally speak the truth about God, we will say something false. We will make God in our own image and in the image of the surrounding culture. And our disciples will be with us. So, how can a busy, weary mom press on to know the Lord? It may be as simple as asking a question and repeating the answer.

GOOD QUESTIONS

“Do you feel the world is broken?” “We do!” So, speak the opening lines from Andrew Peterson’s song “Is He Worthy?” The church has been teaching theology to God’s people in this question-and-answer format from the earliest days. The Heidelberg Catechism (1563) begins,

Q. What is your only comfort in life and in death?

A. That I am not my own, but belong — body and soul, in life and in death — to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.

He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven; in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.

Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.

Regular meditation on that one question would make any Christian mom a deeper, happier theologian. The Protestant catechisms have been a theological guide to the church for hundreds of years. By working through one question a week, how might our theology take root and blossom?

GREAT BOOKS

For those who are willing to commit more time, I recommend making it a goal to work through at least one theological book a year. Knowing God by J.I. Packer, The Knowledge of the Holy by A.W. Tozer, and The Deep Things of God by Fred Sanders are excellent options.

LOCAL CHURCH

A resource even more ancient than catechisms is the gathering of the local church. As Hebrews 10:23–25 exhorts us, “Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering . . . not neglecting to meet together . . .” By gathering weekly with the body of Christ to praise God, pray, and hear God’s word proclaimed, we not only hold fast to the truth ourselves, but teach our children to do the same.

WORD AND PRAYER

One final resource available to every mom may be the most underrated, perhaps because it seems the most mundane: God’s word and prayer. Theologian Michael Allen remarks, “Theology should not claim to improve upon Scripture and prayer. Its task is to help return the reader to those primary languages with greater attentiveness and understanding.”

Just like our “ordinary” lives as moms are full of more glory than we see at first glance, so the regular rhythms of Bible reading and prayer are the glorious languages of knowing God. Before we fit anything else into our day, let’s fit in the Bible and prayer. Let our little ones see us regularly looking to God’s word. Let our speaking be guided by God’s voice in Scripture. When we kneel to pray alone, may our disciples be with us, and by God’s grace, may they come to know our heavenly Father as he truly is.