Permanent MarkersSample

If God alone gives the growth, our slaving away isn’t what matters. We think success must be around here somewhere if our kids would just behave. We feel that icy hand of fear whipping us into shape as a parent, lashing our backs, threatening with what could be. In those moments, we are rarely compelled by love; we are prodded and provoked by the concern snapping at our heels, by our performance as parents somehow making us acceptable to God. And our kids feel the difference.

Fear snags my attention to how my kids perform. It focuses my zoom lens on the amount of control I have, causing me to resort to force if required. It swivels my eyes to behavior modification rather than the cultivation of hearts—theirs and mine—that spread and blooms toward God.

When I parent out of fear, I shape a familial atmosphere of fear-birthed “should,” of outward-facing laws rather than kindness leading to repentance (Romans 2:4). My kids’ behavior is never enough because my starting premise is one of my own (unattainable) performance rather than the security of God’s acceptance of us (see Romans 3:20).

Author and pastor Reb Bradley writes wisely about the priorities, fears, and blind spots that drive our parenting. He asserts, “God doesn’t want us to trust in principles, methods, or formulas, no matter how ‘biblical’ they seem. God wants us to trust in Him!” 

But there are more caveats to our earnest discipleship methods, he cautions. As Paul reminds, “I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me” (Romans 7:21). Our desires to raise godly kids can develop the insidious underbelly of feeding our own street cred. Bradley observes, “When we elevate the image of the family, we effectively trade our children’s hearts for our reputation.”

In teaching these spiritual life skills to my kids, I try to be super sensitive to how they’re responding, so I—and eventually God—can have their hearts: “My son, give me your heart and let your eyes delight in my ways” (Proverbs 23:26). Pushing discipline, if it’s not the right time or the right kid, doesn’t love my kids well. It loves them blindly.