A Gift for Mom! 🤍

It’s so easy, commendable even, to lose ourselves in motherhood. When that first child comes into our life, our whole identity seemingly changes. We have a new name—Mom—a new routine, new plans, new bedtime. Just about everything from life before kids changes to adapt to this new little person, and we change to accommodate them. 

We give up long stretches of sleep, give up going to the movies, give up washing our hair regularly. Some of us give up careers, give up savings, give up our bodies. Introducing a child into your life changes everything, and we change with it. 

It’s no wonder, then, that it’s so easy to fall into the temptation to view motherhood as a religion.  

We bow at the altar of parenting styles. We proselytize about feeding methods. We create commandments for our home and find our identities in them—working mom, crunchy mom, attachment mom. We grow so fiercely passionate about the way we raise our children and so passionate about our children, that our gravity shifts and we find ourselves revolving around our children, find our seasons determined by their moods and health and milestones.  

We lose ourselves in the religion of motherhood. 

RELATED: Is Satan Stealing Our Families?

And while we applaud one another for giving all we’ve got to our kids, for fighting so hard and sacrificing so much, we let our identity in Christ slip away.  

We are new creations, indeed—but not made so by motherhood but by His sacrifice. 

We are called to such a time as this, and these children are an extension of our ministry on earth, but they are not who we find our identity in. Jesus is. 

RELATED: When I Realized My Family Was My Idol

A few years ago I knew a worship leader who loved her son dearly. He was the only child she and her husband had, and the three of them were understandably tight-knit. They did everything together and really, truly enjoyed their time together. It was so wonderful to witness, so inspiring to see how much time they devoted to their child and how close they were as a result of it.  

But then I started to notice the more she spoke about her son, the less she spoke about Jesus. 

While leading worship, she used stories about her son to illustrate Biblical principles. Instead of drawing from scripture, she was looking to her son. Week after week we heard stories about her son, her wonderful son, and no mention of the wonderful Son of God. She’d become so enthralled with the relationship between herself and her child that she was drawing inspiration from him, not from God. Instead of reading God’s word to learn more about Him, she watched her son play and drew philosophical statements from a child.

She had made motherhood her religion. 

Don’t get me wrong, we are supposed to love our children fiercely, and I do. I love my children so much it makes me ache. But I cannot love them so much that there’s no room for God. 

I cannot be so wrapped up in being their mother I forget that I’m His daughter.  

RELATED: To the Mom Trying to Do It All, You’re In God’s Way

I cannot pursue parental perfection with so much passion that I forget to pursue His presence. 

I cannot find my salvation in what I do for my children—I can only find it in Him. 

My worship-leading friend has a good heart. I know she didn’t mean to turn her child into an idol. I know the pride swelling within her chest as she sees him grow, and I know God feels similarly when He looks upon us. She didn’t intentionally ignore her relationship with God in order to find her encouragement in motherhood. It just happens. It’s easy. 

RELATED: God Bound Our Hearts Together With Threads of Love

We celebrate mothers who give their all, who work so selflessly, who do the crafts and cook the meals and read the books and do everything good mothers are supposed to do. It’s a noble position, motherhood, and it’s easy to fall prey to the notion we must lose ourselves in it. What better cause than the betterment of our children? 

But this is not the relationship God desires of us, and this is not the relationship we should be modeling for our children.  

When Abraham took Isaac up the mountain, when a father broke his heart to obey God, he was not only proving his faithfulness to God . . . he was modeling it for Isaac. 

We must show our children that yes, they are important, but so is our relationship with God. We have to model prayer, personal prayer, time spent studying scripture. We have to lead our children into relationship with God, not to the center of our universe. 

There is no shame in being a good mother, and there should be no guilt in devoting so much of yourself to your children.

We just have to be certain we find our identity in Christ, not in kids, and remember that motherhood is a gift, a calling, a sacrifice, and a blessing, but it is not a religion.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Jennifer Vail

Jennifer is married to the very handsome man she's loved half her life, with whom she juggles 3 hilarious, quirky, sometimes-difficult-but-always-worth-the-work kids. She is passionate about people and 90's pop culture, can't go a week without TexMex, and maintains the controversial belief that Han shot first. She holds degrees in counseling and general ministries, writes at This Undeserved Life, and can often be found staying up too late but rarely found folding laundry.

I Lost My Sight at 16—But It Wasn’t the End of My Vision

In: Faith
Cross and sunset

After my father shot me, I lay in a hospital bed, and my world went dark. I was 16 years old. The injury left me completely blind. But the darkness didn’t stop there. As my physical sight disappeared, something else came into focus—the depth of the wounds I had carried long before that moment, wounds I had never fully allowed myself to see. For years, I had learned how to survive without asking too many questions. I had learned how to minimize what hurt, how to explain things away, how to keep moving forward as if everything were normal. But...

Keep Reading

Ministry Starts Inside Your Own Four Walls

In: Faith
Family around a table

When people hear the word ministry, they often think of missionaries, or the pastor who preaches every Sunday, but in our home, ministry belongs to all of us—even our kids. Growing up, I didn’t think of myself as a ministry kid. Still, when my dad packed our old Astro for the summer and we all piled in, we were on mission. Each kid had a part to play in my dad’s evangelical magic shows (yes, you read that right!). My brother would juggle, my older sister sang, my middle sister flipped the projector slides that shone pictures of Jesus on...

Keep Reading

These Holy Small Things

In: Faith, Motherhood
Children sewing at machine

My 8-year-old-daughter has recently taken up sewing, to my simultaneous delight and chagrin. My delight because I too love sewing; my chagrin because her enthusiasm often outpaces my own abilities, namely, in the undertaking of tedious projects with no pattern. Take, for example, the cloth doll diaper we designed and stitched up together. Granted, the design was fairly basic to draw up and scale. But the minuscule nature of the work, both for my hands and head, was enough to throw me into existential questioning. It was one of those moments when you wonder how the sum of your life...

Keep Reading

Life Lessons from My Grown Children

In: Faith, Motherhood
Two women's hands on teacups

“Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time.” – Rabindranath Tagore Quietly communing with a loved one in the early morning hours is such an intimate and precious time. Visiting with one’s grown child when all is dark and still is one of life’s purest pleasures. I remember the conversation clearly. My daughter’s husband, small children, and father were all asleep as we whispered and chatted. She and I are both fidgeters by nature, unable to be still for long. This inner restlessness must be remedied, and we are compelled by biology to...

Keep Reading

My Prayer Is Simple Now: “I Believe; Help My Unbelief.”

In: Faith
Woman sitting by water

I have spent most of my life in faith. Not circling it or analyzing it from a distance, but inside it—learning its language before I even realized I was learning it, shaping myself around it in ways that felt as natural as breathing. I was raised in Christian Science, which is a very particular kind of faith. It’s not really about “believing” in the way most people think. It’s about understanding. Aligning your thoughts with what is ultimately true about God and reality. If you can understand rightly, you can be well. If you can see clearly, healing follows. So...

Keep Reading

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

In: Faith, Living
Woman looking over canyon

Insecurity is something we all carry in one form or another. For me, it has probably always looked confident and outgoing from the outside. But internally, it can feel heavy, complicated, and exhausting at times. And when someone comes along whose behavior reinforces those insecurities, it amplifies what was already there. There was someone I had hoped to genuinely connect with, but it was clear from the start that the feeling wasn’t mutual. From the beginning, their wall was up. No matter how kind I tried to be or how carefully I showed up, it never came down. Their distance...

Keep Reading

Lord, Give Me Faith Like Hannah

In: Faith
Woman walking in field with hand in wheat

Hannah knew what it was like to feel forgotten. She often clutched her empty womb and thought Surely the Lord has forgotten me.  She knew the bitter sting of feeling isolated and alone. She knew the anguish of praying day after day after day and seeing no fruit, not even a bud, from her faithfulness. Hannah knew what it was like to feel like the weight of the world was on her, and her hope may have dwindled. Even those around her did not offer encouragement. Quite the opposite—they did their best to sow seeds of discouragement. Yet Hannah pressed...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

In: Faith, Motherhood
Family smiling in posed photo

My pastor frequently speaks of “kid pain” and acknowledges there’s nothing like it. I can testify to that. After nine months of uncertainty and unexplained issues following the birth of our now 4-year-old daughter, Harlow, we finally received her diagnosis of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Complex Deficiency (PDCD), a life-limiting mitochondrial disease with no cure and no FDA-approved treatments. It was heartbreaking. In moments like these, a parent can fall into complete desperation. You go through a range of emotions almost too fast to name: fear for your child’s life; anxiousness about how much time you’ll get with them; overwhelming grief. And...

Keep Reading

What If I Don’t Hear God’s Voice?

In: Faith
Woman with folded hands looking up

There have been many times over the years when I’ve heard others share stories of how the Lord spoke to them or gave them a sign. Seashells scattered along a sandy beach, numbered to represent how many children they would have. A quiet walk in the park, followed by a clear sense that another little one was coming. What a blessing, I think, when I hear and read their stories. I often wonder how much more faith they must have than I do—to know with such certainty that what they heard was truly God speaking. I listen, I smile, and...

Keep Reading