God's Comfort for a Mother's Cares

“When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul” (Ps. 94:19).

A mother has many cares for her children. No matter her children’s age or stage, their needs are never far from her mind. Many of her worries come naturally as the result of living in a fallen world where children catch illnesses, face bullies on the playground, and struggle with academics. In a broken, sin-stained world, she can’t help but have concern for their safety from those who might do them harm. She can’t help but worry about the temptations they face online and with friends. She can’t help but worry about their future.

Indeed, the cares of a mother's heart are many.

While the ESV translates the Hebrew here as “cares,” other translations use the word “anxiety.” “When the anxieties of my heart are many…” The word literally means “disquieting thoughts.” Consider the anxious thoughts you’ve had about your children. Those thoughts that keep you up at night and follow you throughout the day. Thoughts that never seem to let you alone. Thoughts like: What if this illness worsens? What if she gets behind in school? What if he doesn’t make friends? What if we can’t find the help she needs? What if we can’t afford…? What if…?

David Powlison once wrote, “anxiety presumes a great distance between God and my present concern.” But the psalmist reminds us that God does known about our anxieties and cares. This verse is a reminder that God isn’t far away. Our circumstances are not beyond his knowledge and care for us. In fact, the psalmist then tells us that God’s consolations cheer the soul. “Consolation” is another word for comfort. It’s the same word used in Isaiah 66:10-14 where the prophet compares a mother comforting her baby to God’s comfort and care for his people. The word for “cheer” or in other translations, “delight” is to soothe or stroke, just as mother does to calm her baby.

And that’s what the Lord does for us in our anxieties.

Psalm 94 is a psalm about God’s people experiencing injustice at the hand of their enemies. It calls them to wait for the Lord to enact justice on their behalf. And as they wait, to remember who God is for them. He is a covenant keeping God who “will not abandon his heritage” (v.14), whose steadfast love holds them (v.18), and who is their stronghold, a rock of refuge (v.22). In the midst of the fears and anxieties of this life, our God is with us. He comforts us with his presence. Even more, he is our helper and provider. He is our strength and our place of safety. Like a child with his mother, we can run to our Father and find the comfort and help we need.

Calvin comments: “The heavier our calamities grow, we should hope that Divine grace will only be the more powerfully manifested in comforting us under them, but should we through weakness of the flesh be vexed and tormented by anxious cares, we must be satisfied with the remedy which the Psalmist here speaks of in such high terms. Believers are conscious of two very different states of mind. On the one hand, they are afflicted and distressed with various fears and anxieties; on the other, there is a secret joy communicated to them from above, and this in accommodation to their necessity, so as to preserve them from being swallowed up by any complication or force of calamity which may assail them.”

I like how Calvin describes God’s comfort as a “secret joy” that God gives to us. He sees our needs and meets us where we are with his presence. He sooths our hearts with the truths of who he is. He helps us see that he is greater than our fears. And if we have any doubt of his provisions of grace for us, we need look no further than the cross of Christ. As Paul wrote in Romans 8:32, “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?”

The reality is, we will experience hard and fearful and troubling things in this fallen world. As moms, we will feel anxious for our children. We’ll worry about their health, their growth, their friendships, their safety. We’ll worry about their future. We’ll think all those “what if?” thoughts. But God’s comfort keeps and preserves us from being consumed by our troubles. His consolations soothe our soul. We find him to be our refuge in all our troubles.

Father, I come to you with many concerns and cares for my children. My mind is often filled with questions of “What if this or that happens?” Forgive me for when my anxieties turn my gaze from you and onto my circumstances and I forget that you are greater. I know you love my children far more than I can, for you love with a perfect love. Be with them now. Shower them with your love and grace. Intervene in our circumstances and be our refuge. Comfort my heart. Sooth my soul. Give me that “secret joy” in the midst of worrying circumstances. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Photo by Bethany Beck on Unsplash

The Transitions that Shape Us

Transitions in life can be hard, whether you expect them or not.

I remember when my boys were little and they struggled with transitioning from one activity to the next. I would prepare them for it by saying things like, “In fifteen minutes, we’ll have to clean up the toys because then it’s time to: have lunch, go to an appointment, take a nap, etc.” I’d then give them the five-minute warning. Then I’d tell them it’s time to put the toys away and there’d be all sorts of complaining.

The worst was when I had to prepare them to leave a friend’s house because it was time to return home!

Life is filled with transitions, both big and small. Some we look forward to, others we don’t. Some we expect and prepare for, and others seem to catch us by surprise. No matter the transition, and whether we see its arrival on the horizon or not, any change in life often comes with some kind of struggle or challenge.

When I finished college and started applying for my first job, I remember just wanting to find something in my field. After all, that’s why I went to college, right? I nearly accepted a job as a bank teller because I couldn’t find anything else when a position opened at a domestic violence shelter. I was thrilled! It was a counseling position working with women in abusive relationships. I couldn’t wait to use all my freshly honed skills and knowledge. I remember the feeling of excitement that finally I would be doing what I was called to do: help women and make a difference in their lives. Yet the transition from college to my first job in the field didn’t come without its challenges. That’s because my efforts were not received quite as I expected. I was twenty-one and newly married. The women in the shelter must have thought I was a kid and responded to me as such. They didn’t take me seriously. They questioned my skills and my ability to help them. It was a transition that stretched me in many ways. I was humbled and what I learned most from that experience was that I didn’t really know much at all.

Another big transition in life came when we went from being a family of two to a family of three. Having our first son was something my husband and I were thrilled about and looked forward to. But the transition was challenging and sometimes downright hard. I had a new person I was responsible for. There was so much to learn and I knew so little. I often felt helpless and inadequate. The changes to my life were rapid fire: My priorities changed. My expectations for daily life changed. The relationship dynamics between my husband and I changed. While it was a joy-filled time of life, it also stretched me in ways that continue on to this day.

Now I face a new life transition. It’s a transition that has been creeping up on me for some time now. It’s a transition I know is coming and I’ve tried to prepare for it but I also know that when it comes it will hit me hard. My oldest leaves for college soon and my youngest will follow not long after. That transition will be not unlike the days of being a brand new mom. Life will feel like it’s been flipped upside down. My day to day life will change in drastic ways. I will have to relearn how to do life without kids in the house. And I’ll have to learn how to parent adult children.

I already feel a bit like my kids used to when I’d tell them it was time to move on from something they enjoyed doing to another task. I want to cling to the present and ignore the future knocking at my door. I want things to stay the same. I don’t want to have to struggle through another life transition. But at the same time, I know this transition is good for both myself and for my sons. But as I look back on all the other transitions in life I’ve experienced—both the ones I looked forward to and the ones I resisted—I know there are important lessons for me to learn. I know there is good work that takes place in those challenges—work that God is doing in and through me. For it is in the stretching—in the push and pull on my heart—that I am shaped into the image of Christ.

Life is filled with change and transitions from one season to another. I know that many more are in my future. I want my heart to see these transitions as opportunities to grow in Christ-likeness. I want to see God in them. I want to depend upon him as I walk through them. Even more, I want to rejoice in the struggle, knowing that “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom. 5:3-5).

How about you? What life transitions have shaped you? And how have you seen God’s hand at work in them?

Photo by Jens Lelie on Unsplash

On Motherhood, Memories, and How Quickly the Present Becomes the Past

My son and I got into the car one recent morning to head to school. As usual, he got out his ear buds case and began putting them in his ears.

“When you put your ear buds in, it makes me think you don’t want to talk to me. Or maybe it’s just that you don’t want to listen to me,” I said with a smile.

He laughed and put them away.

It didn’t used to take so much work and prompting to talk with my children. When they were young, all they did in the car was talk. In fact, I think sitting in the back of the car created an ideal place for them to talk to me. We weren’t looking at each other in the eye. We were captive audiences to each other.

In those days, they’d ask whatever question came to their mind:

How does a car engine work?

Why do the birds sit on the powerline like that?

How does the music come through the radio?

There was also a running commentary about whatever they saw out their window:

Mom, look at the shape of that cloud!

Why is that car going so fast?

Can we stop at the smoothie place? Please?

Then there would be emergency interjections like:

I have to go potty right now!!

Or I’m hungry, when will we get home?

One time, we were returning home from an appointment and my son complained that it was taking FOREVER to get home. We reached a traffic light and I said, “Let’s see how long forever is. I’ll time it from here. How about you take a guess as to how long you think it will be.”

In case you were wondering, forever is exactly 7 minutes and 42 seconds.

I thought of all these things as I sat in the car beside my son on the way to school. It wasn’t long ago that he sat in an infant carrier behind me, his face looking at the rear of the car. In order to see his face I put a mirror on the seat behind him so I could see him in my rear view mirror. Now he sits taller than I. Later this year, he’ll get his learner’s permit and the year after, his license. And then the season of driving children will be over for me.

If there’s one thing that is true about parenthood is how it’s always changing. Just when I get used to one stage, a new one appears. Lately, I’ve started to feel that way about the teen years. They’ve become like my favorite pair of jeans, soft and worn and comfortable. I know what to expect from my kids and they know what to expect from me. We’ve worked through the stiffness and kinks of those early adolescent years. But my oldest leaves for college later this summer and with that comes a new season of parenting a young adult. Before long, his brother will follow.

After my son put his ear buds away, we chatted all the way to school about the latest news in the world, his friends, and what he is learning in school.

I then tucked those moments away with all my other memories of motherhood, realizing just how quickly the present becomes the past.

Photo by Robin Edqvist on Unsplash

Loving Our Children as the Father Loves Us

My oldest attends a school that goes on a week long trip every year to the beach where they study marine biology. Each year before they leave, the school asks each parent to write a letter to their child which the school will hand to the students during the trip. The purpose of the letter is to affirm and encourage their child. The school often shares stories of children who count those letters as their most treasured possession, even sharing about children who have since lost a parent and how much it means to them to have a handwritten record of their parent’s love for them.

I recently wrote my sixth letter to my son as he prepares to go on his last trip with his school. He will graduate this May and as the days pass by until he departs our home for college, I am filled with both joy and sadness. As I penned my letter to him, I couldn’t help but reflect on all that has happened in his life over the last six years. Of the growing pains— both in him and in my own heart as we navigated the often rocky terrain of adolescence. Of God’s wonderful work of grace in his heart. Of his maturity into a young man whom I truly enjoy being around. And of the unique ways God has gifted him.

As I thought of these things, I shared with him my heart and my hopes for him as he embarks on a new chapter in his life. I pointed out the ways I saw God working in his life. I reminded him of how much I love him and how proud I am to be his mom.

Words of love and affirmation are vital; they are life-giving. Anyone who has had someone simply say, “I love you and I’m proud of you” knows just how that feels, how it encourages, how it fuels us. These words speak to our hearts, to the core of who we are. They refresh us as water does for the thirsty. They fill us like a meal does after a day’s work. They comfort us as the sight of home does when we’ve been gone far too long.

When we affirm with our words, we do what our Father does for us. He speaks life giving words over us as well. The Bible itself is God’s love story for his people. It tells us how God chose us to be his own in eternity past (Eph. 1). It tells us how his loves pursues us, no matter how far we wander (Luke 15), how he sent Jesus to die on our behalf (Jn. 3:16), and that he loves us as much as he loves the Son (Jn. 17:23).

But God is not just a God of words; he is also a God of action. Likewise, love is not just a word or a feeling; it is a deed as well. God didn’t just tell us he loved us, he showed us the depths of his love by laying down his life for us. “By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers” (1 John 3:16).

As parents, we must speak words of love to our children. We must tell them how special they are to us, that we love them no matter what, that we are proud to be their parents. But it is our actions that prove our love for them. We reveal our love for them in what we do.

Sometimes though, our actions can undermine the words that we say.

When our children were little, we read them a picture book titled, Anyway and Always by Bryan Chapell. It was a sweet story about a young girl who disobeyed and her father taught her that he loves her no matter what, even when she sins. I remember afterward, when our children did something wrong and we had to correct them, we would say that we loved them “anyway and always.”

From my new book, Like Our Father:

“You might think, “But of course I love my children unconditionally!” Yet there are times we may unknowingly add conditions to our love. Our children may perceive and receive our love as conditional. They grow up thinking we love and accept them only when they behave, or when they look a certain way, or when they perform at a certain level. They learn this when we criticize them or point out their flaws. Our children learn to associate love with behavior when they see us treat them differently than or compare them to a sibling who outperforms them in some way. They also see love as conditional when we emphasize externals and when they observe us prioritizing what other people think about us—when we respond in anger because they embarrassed us in some way in front of others. They experience our love as conditional when we shame them for not measuring up.

Instead, our children need to know they are loved no ma er what. Even when they fail. Even when they don’t perform as other children. Even when they misbehave. As parents, we must communicate, both in word and in deed, that we love our children no matter what—anyway and always.” (p. 154).

Consider the Father’s love for us and the lengths he went to in showing us that love. May our love for our children reflect the Father’s love. And may they see the Father’s love through us.

Like Our Father: How God Parents Us and Why that Matters for Our Parenting releases March 2 and is available for preorder now.

My New Book: Like Our Father

How many parenting books have you read? I’d venture to guess more than a few. I know I have. As parents, we desire to raise our children well. We want to train them up in the “discipline and instruction of the Lord” (Eph. 6:4). We want to love and care for them in the best ways possible. We want to do all we can to help them grow and mature into godly young men and women.

The question is, just how do we do that? “How?” has been the biggest question in my own parenting. From the moment my oldest came into the world, I wanted to know “How?”

How do I best train and discipline my children?

How do I help them navigate hardships?

How do I know what to say and do in specific situations?

Over the years, I kept returning to how my Father in heaven parents me. As I encountered behavioral challenges, I was reminded of my own sinful heart and the ways in which God teaches and trains me to follow after him. When I found myself impatient at having to repeat the same instruction, yet again, I remembered how often the Lord is patient with my own slowness to learn. In all these ways and more, I found myself looking to my Father as my source of parenting wisdom.

I’m so grateful to Moody Publishers for giving me the opportunity to explore this topic in my forthcoming book, Like Our Father: How God Parents Us and Why that Matters for Our Parenting. In this book, I encourage us to turn from asking “How?” and instead ask the question, “Who?” Who is God? Who are we? And, what are the implications of that?

Like Our Father explores the ways in which God parents us. And because we are his image bearers, we get to image him to our children in the ways we parent them. What an opportunity! As parents, we are often the first ones to introduce our children to their Father in heaven. What might it look like to show our children the Father in how we parent them? That’s what I attempt to unpack in the book. I look at how God is consistent with us, how he provides for us, how he teaches us, how he loves us, and more.

Here is what a few readers are saying about Like Our Father:

Christina Fox doesn’t just offer a parenting “how to” manual, but instead paints a beautiful picture of how our Heavenly Father parents us, slowly shaping us into a conduit of his love and grace as we learn to parent our own children in his strength. Lay down the heavy burden of needing to know “how” to be the parent you long to be and soak in the pages of this book which will draw your eyes upward to know and rest in the One who has everything you need.

—Sarah Walton, Co-author of Hope When it Hurts and Together Through the Storms

Our Father, who art in heaven, help me parent these kids! Every parent knows that in order to raise healthy, loved, and spiritually mature children, we need a parenting coach. In Like Our Father, Christina Fox reminds us we already have one—our Heavenly Father! You'll walk away from this book with a fresh awe for the way God has lovingly cared for you and deep wisdom to help you raise your children rooted in His love. This is a parenting book I will read and re-read.

—Erin Davis, writer, Bible study teacher, and mother of four boys

This book surpasses parenting how-to guides, giving us practical wisdom to nurture kids in gospel truth. Christina Fox faithfully points us to the perfect parent: God himself. Get ready to see what it means to imitate our loving Father and proclaim his beloved Son to our children, fully relying on his abundant grace.

—Barbara Reaoch, author, former Director of the Children’s Division at Bible Study Fellowship International

In a world full of prescriptive strategies that don’t go the distance, Like Our Father offers an invitation to discover the “why” of parenting instead of the “how.” Understanding the multidimensional glory of God as Father shapes both parent and child toward the ultimate aim of parenting--being more conformed to His image.

—Karen Hodge, Coordinator of Women’s Ministries for the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA) and author of Transformed: Life-taker to Life-giver and Life-giving Leadership

Like Our Father releases March 2. Reserve your copy today! Click here to learn more. Stay tuned to learn how you can help spread the word about the book’s release and join the launch team.

On Motherhood and the Passage of Time

It’s the end of the school year here and I decided to begin work on a task I’ve put off for far too long: going through the numerous boxes of homeschool classwork. We have years worth of binders filled with lessons and worksheets. I saved my children’s work from the very first day we started homeschooling, partly because I needed to save their work for a portfolio, but partly because I just couldn’t part with it.

My oldest just finished his junior year of high school and it was time. I’ve dreaded going through his school work because I knew what it represented. I knew that opening those boxes and flipping through spelling tests, math quizzes, and handwriting exercises would shout out to me the harsh and difficult truth—time has passed all too quickly. I knew that sweet memories would flash in my mind, memories of snuggling up on the couch during afternoon read-a-louds, of combing the beach for shells during that year when we studied ocean life, and of laughing at my son’s insistence on illustrating every word on his weekly spelling tests. Memories of studying the Great Wall of China and constructing one of our own out of miniature craft blocks. Memories of cheering on Odysseus as he pushed forward in his long journey home. Memories of lapbooks and unit studies and field trips. I knew that such memories would usher forth tears, and I wasn’t wrong.

When we started homeschooling my oldest in the first grade, we thought it would be temporary. We expected to do it for a few years at most. But we soon realized that it was a perfect fit for him. He thrived in homeschooling and my youngest soon joined him. When we moved to a city where there were many options for homeschoolers to take classes, he thrived there too. When we switched his brother to a local Christian school, my oldest wanted to continue homeschooling. He’ll enter his senior year this fall and our homeschool story will soon come to an end.

I look at both my kids now, who both stand far above me, and struggle to see the little boys they once were. Sometimes, when they smile or laugh at a silly joke, I catch a glimpse of their childhood, but then just as quickly, it is gone and all I see are whiskers across a man’s jawline. I then hear the jangle of car keys and they are out the door to see friends. It seems like yesterday my oldest was learning to count; now we are registering him to take Calculus in the fall. Our conversations which once centered on all the “why?” questions of life and how things work, now focus on plans for the future.

My life over the years has revolved around the school day and the school year. I’ve measured time by classes, semesters, and summer breaks. In between those times were hard and difficult days when no one wanted to do their work and I longed for a substitute teacher to come in and take over. On other days, I wanted to resign my job as teacher, principal, janitor, and lunch lady all together. On those days, I looked forward to the next stage when things would be easier. I looked forward to days when I would be in less demand. I longed for moments of peace and quiet. Sometimes, I even imagined what else I could do with my time. To be honest, there were even days when I wallowed in self-pity, reminding myself of all I gave up to teach my kids at home.

Yet all those years have flown by all too fast. My days as a teacher have since shifted to that of tutor and guidance counselor and those jobs too will soon end. While part of me wants to rewind time and go back to those afternoons when we all sat and listened as we took turns reading aloud the day’s history lesson, part of me also loves watching my sons grow and mature into young men. I love seeing the labors of my years, the sacrifices of my days, bear fruit. I love witnessing the Lord’s work in their lives. And I look forward to seeing what he does in them in the years to come. Because the truth is, all along I’ve merely been a steward in their lives. They belong to the Lord and his calling on me as a mother will all too soon transition to a different role. While I will always be their mother, I won’t always be involved in their day to day life. I won’t always be needed. I won’t always be their primary instructor.

As I flipped through those binders of days past, I was reminded all the more that my job was temporary— that I didn’t have tenure after all.

Moms, the days are long but the years are short. Those days of pushing through exhaustion do not last forever. Those days of picking up toys and wiping faces and teaching the same lesson over and over will soon pass. Those days of watching the clock tick by all too slowly until bedtime will be gone before you know it. May we, like Moses, ask the Lord to teach us to number our days (Ps. 90). May we steward our brief time for God’s glory. For our “days are like grass” (Ps. 103:15) and all too soon, our time with our kids will be past.