Do you believe that the apostles were spokesmen for God, taught by the Holy Spirit? Paul did. He depended on it for both authority and impact.

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The road of sacrifice took William Tyndale from the Roman Catholic Church to the translator’s desk, giving us the first ever English version of the Greek New Testament.

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How would you define living your best life?

I once thought a perfect life would mean no physical disability, no chronic pain, and having everything I wanted. But I’ve come to see that the best life is anything that draws me closest to Jesus.

My easy years did the opposite. My once-vibrant college faith gave way to an all-consuming career. I still went to church, believed in Jesus, and even led a small group, but life was going so well that I no longer sought him daily. I could talk the talk, but I didn’t realize this successful life cost me the one thing that mattered most.

We all face this danger when life goes well. We tend to fear seasons of suffering, wilderness, and waiting, but these are not the worst threats to our faith. The greater danger is that in times of prosperity, when we finally receive what we want, we won’t think about God at all.

The Offer We Should Fear

In Exodus 32, the Israelites waited forty days after Moses went up the mountain, and in their impatience, they told Aaron to make them gods. That’s the heart of idolatry: desiring gods who support whatever we want, gods we can control. Israel took the gold that God had provided, melted it down, made a calf, and then credited it with their deliverance: “These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!” (Exodus 32:4).

God threatened to destroy the people and start over with Moses. But instead, he relented and made them an astonishing offer: He would give them the land he had promised, drive out their enemies, and even send an angel to lead the way. But he would not go with them (Exodus 33:1–3).

God offered Israel every earthly gift they had waited for: Land flowing with milk and honey. The end of wandering, the end of boring manna, and the end of total dependence. A future where they could thrive on their own.

Just without God.

Your version of the promised land may be a healed body, a restored relationship, financial security, or the life you’ve been praying for. If God offered it to you and said, “You can have it all, but I will keep my distance,” how would you respond?

Why Moses Said No

Moses refused the offer. He wanted nothing to do with a land void of God.

When God pledged, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest,” Moses took hold of it: “If your presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here” (Exodus 33:14–15). He preferred manna and daily dependence to vineyards, ease, and a God who kept his distance.

Moses knew the mark of God’s people was not geography or prosperity but the nearness of God. “Is it not in your going with us,” he asked, “so that we are distinct . . . from every other people on the face of the earth?” (Exodus 33:16). He knew what the people couldn’t fully understand yet: God himself was their promise. Not the land. Not the blessing. Not the life that finally worked. God. Without him, no amount of milk and honey could satisfy their hearts, for only in his presence is there “fullness of joy” (Psalm 16:11).

Years later, before Israel finally entered the promised land, Moses warned against the danger awaiting them should they forget this truth: “Take care lest you forget the Lord your God . . . when you have eaten and are full and have built good houses and live in them” (Deuteronomy 8:11–12). He knew the promised land without God can be a life so full of good things that we no longer feel our need for him.

Wilderness as Mercy

The wilderness, on the other hand, destroys the illusion that we can provide for ourselves. It’s where tomorrow is uncertain, our strength fails, our plans unravel, and we finally discover that underneath our struggles are his everlasting arms (Deuteronomy 33:27).

Moses told the Israelites that God fed them with manna “that he might humble you and test you, to do you good in the end” (Deuteronomy 8:16). He carried them all the way “as a man carries his son” (Deuteronomy 1:31). And the manna itself preached a daily sermon: It covered the ground every morning with just enough for the day and a promise of more tomorrow.

Your wilderness may be a terminal diagnosis, heartache over a loved one, the long ache of singleness or childlessness, the loss that doesn’t seem to heal. But looking back over your life, what has truly drawn your heart closest to God? Has it been his miraculous rescues, or his daily, sustaining help?

In my story, God has answered prayers that once seemed impossible. Meeting my husband was one of those precious answers. But the disability and pain I once longed to escape are still with me and intensifying. As I reflect on both kinds of seasons, I see that what has most satisfied me, what has taught me to love God for who he is, has not been deliverance. It has been sustenance. The daily manna of his word. The hidden strength he gives when I cannot go on. The comfort of his presence when nothing around me changes.

The wilderness is not a sign that God has abandoned us. It is the battlefield where we learn to love God — a mercy that refuses to let us be satisfied with any of God’s gifts without being satisfied in him.

A Friend in the Battlefield

My friend knows this battlefield well. At his lowest, he felt it was easier to die than to live one more day with his debilitating chronic pain. Then a line from Charles Spurgeon convicted him that he had been asking God only for his own ease, with no thought of God’s glory. He saw that while his needs mattered, they were not the center; God’s glory was.

He went on to share, “I realized that my physical pain was just the battlefield, but the real battle was for my heart.” That’s true of us as well. Whatever we’re facing, whether it’s prosperity or pain, the battle is always for our hearts. Will we live for our own ease or for God’s glory? Will we settle for a life that finally works without him, or will we say, “Hallowed be your name,” even from a hospital bed?

The Better Portion

Psalm 73 puts language to what Moses knew at Sinai. The psalmist watched the prosperity of those who ignored God while his own obedience cost dearly. But when he entered the sanctuary and saw their end, he declared,

Whom have I in heaven but you?
     And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
     but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (Psalm 73:25–26)

This was Moses’s anthem at Sinai. This is what my friend is clinging to in his illness. This is what the Spirit can teach us in our own wilderness and promised lands.

And this is what Christ has secured for us. Moses could only plead for God’s presence; Jesus purchased it. He was forsaken so we could be brought near. Because of him, God does not merely go with his people but now dwells in us by his Spirit. The true promised land ahead of us is defined by one hope: “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man” (Revelation 21:3).

The greatest danger in your life is not that you will suffer long or wait in the dark, but that you will finally get what you want and find you can enjoy it with very little of God. To be satisfied in the gifts and not the Giver is to miss everything and not even realize what you’ve missed. Better manna with God than milk and honey without him.

Moses saw God’s glory, and once you have seen it, no land — however rich, however safe, however long you waited — will ever be enough on its own. May God so meet us in our wildernesses that we can say with Moses, “If your presence will not go with me, do not bring me up from here” — and mean it.

The deepest theological questions often come from the mouths of children. Although my nine-year-old daughter had never heard of the word “theodicy,” her question one evening went straight to the heart of God’s goodness. Sitting together at the foot of her bed, we had been praying once again that God would heal a painful health issue she had been battling for two years. Despite hundreds of such prayers, her condition had progressed. That night, her fears prompted the deepest of questions: “Does God not love me? Is that why he isn’t answering my prayers?”

Although my heart ached for her, that question wasn’t an unfamiliar one. Long before becoming a mother, I was the little girl lying in bed with tear-soaked pillows, wondering why God hadn’t answered my prayers. Suffering has been woven into my story since infancy, when I was given less than a ten percent chance of survival. Since then, I’ve had nine cancer surgeries, ongoing daily medical challenges, and most recently radiation treatment. I know what it’s like to wonder why God hasn’t brought healing.

When I gazed down at my daughter, whose eyes traced mine for some semblance of comfort, I saw myself in her pain. I couldn’t give her healing, but I knew where she could find help in time of need. The following tools, hard-learned through my own hardships, have guided my daughter through times of intense suffering. My prayer is that these guidelines help parents encourage their children, build for them a solid foundation for facing trials, and prepare their families for Christ’s eternal rest.

Savor the Scriptures

As in my daughter’s case, a long battle with suffering can stir up questions about God’s nearness and love. To guide children through such troubling moments, ingrain the Scriptures on their little hearts and minds. As a child, one of the most transformative things my mother ever did for me was to plaster Bible verses throughout our house — anywhere she knew I would look. The word of God is not bound or bedridden but living and active, even in a home with tears (2 Timothy 2:9; Hebrews 4:12).

To implant Scripture in a little suffering heart, invite your son or daughter to picture what a verse reveals about God. For example, consider Zephaniah 3:17: “The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.” A mental picture of singing in this verse can help children to conceptualize and draw strength from God’s grace: “Do you know how Mommy sings over you and tucks you in each night? I do that because I love you, but do you know what? Your heavenly Father sings over you and loves you far more than I ever could!” Don’t discount children’s abilities to grasp profound truths through biblical imagery.

Teach Them to Pray

When we moved to a new city, my daughter worried about how her peers would perceive her diagnosis. Hopping out of the school car line felt like embarking on one of the biggest challenges of her life. As we locked eyes, I reminded her that even though I couldn’t hold her hand as she walked down the hallway, she had the best helper in the world: the Holy Spirit (John 14:26). “You can talk to God anytime, anywhere,” I told her. “He is near and ready to listen” (Psalm 34:15–18; Psalm 145:18).

Children in pain need assurance that God is eager to hear their prayers (1 John 5:14). Through the years, I’ve shared with my daughter stories about how I incorporated into my prayer life what John Piper calls the “wartime walkie-talkie” — direct access to God in the middle of the battle. Although Pastor John speaks of this dynamic in missions, I found it equally relevant in elementary school. A nurse escorted me from class multiple times a day to tend to my medical issues, and as curious kids whispered to each other and pointed at me, I felt defeated. But I also remembered I wasn’t alone, and I prayed under my breath, “Lord, please be with me. Make me strong. Make me brave.” And he did.

God doesn’t always answer prayers as we expect. In my daughter’s case, I reminded her that God’s character does not change (Malachi 3:6) and that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ (Romans 8:35–39), even when healing does not come in the way we hoped. He promises never to leave or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5–6). Sharing personal stories like these can help your children to place their burdens upon the Lord (1 Peter 5:7), reminding them that they aren’t alone, that Christ is Savior and sustainer, and that he’s always ready to receive their prayers.

Give Them God Himself

One night, as I was tucking my daughter into bed, she pointed to an old scar from where I had open-heart surgery. She asked, “Mommy, why does the cancer keep coming back?” I gently responded, “I don’t know, sweetie.” Because that’s the truth. I don’t know. I continued with a bedside lesson on Genesis 3, but I knew that’s not what she was asking. She needed what the Puritans often called “experimental religion”: theology that moves the heart.

As a parent, it can feel daunting when your children need quick (and deep) theological answers to satisfy their little hearts. I can’t give my daughter every answer she is looking for about her suffering. But there’s still plenty to tell. I can confidently say, “I don’t know how your story will unfold, but I know the one who does, and he loves you so much.”

As simple as it sounds, the best answer for our children’s spiritual questions is God himself. Help your child get to know the one who holds the universe in his hands. Point them to Jesus, who took on flesh, entered our broken world, and suffered for us. In Christ, we see the goodness of God made visible (John 14:9). This is where our great comfort lies — not in explaining the intricacies of theodicy, but in knowing that God is unimaginably good, that he is holding us in his hands, and that there is no safer place to be (Psalm 34:8).

Share How Suffering Shapes the Heart

In the midst of her suffering, our daughter notices people the world overlooks. Her heart quickly swells with concern when she sees someone in pain. She even cries for these image-bearers in her nightly prayers. And I have no doubt that God formed this softness in her through her suffering. Similarly, the very things I once despised about my body — my health challenges and scars — God has used to produce fruit in my life and keep my heart close to his. He’s also used my suffering to help my daughter through hers.

Parents can help their children connect these providential dots. God brings beauty from ashes, and he often works in ways outside of our earnest requests (Isaiah 55:9). As David Mathis says, “Not one drop, not one ounce, not one moment of your sorrow and suffering will be wasted.” Encourage your children to take confidence in knowing God is working for their good, conforming them into the image of Christ, and preparing them for eternal glory (Romans 8:28–29; 2 Corinthians 4:17).

Hold Space for Sadness

In response to your child’s grief over trials, you might feel the human instinct to say, “Everything will be okay.” And in light of the resurrection, thank God that’s true. For God’s children, everything will work out for their good and his glory (Revelation 21:4). But we shouldn’t be afraid to sit with our kids in their sadness. God made sad feelings too. No emotion is too big for God to handle. In fact, throughout the Bible, lament signifies an abiding trust in God (Psalm 10; 13; 22).

The testimony of Joni Eareckson Tada has left an indelible mark on my life. Now my daughter holds Joni’s words close to her heart as well, particularly in regard to lament: “God has opened the door for you to lament, to bring to him your doubts and questions, wisely, honestly, and in humility. He bends his ear to his suffering people.” When we bring our fears and weaknesses to God’s capable hands, we show our kids that we’re children before God too.

I can’t change my daughter’s situation any more than I can predict if my cancer will return. But even if our circumstances don’t change, my daughter and I have the same set of eyes: the eyes of faith (2 Corinthians 4:18). And together we will look to the author and perfecter of our mutual faith (Hebrews 12:2). We’ll look to the cross together. We’ll persevere in prayer together. When trials come, we’ll suffer together. And we know our hope is secure because it isn’t found in the absence of suffering, but in the faithful hand of our heavenly Father.

What frees us from guilt after sexual failure? John Piper opens Romans 8:3 to show that God condemned our sin in Christ’s flesh at the cross.

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Loss can lead to despair over God’s plan for our lives. When we can’t perceive meaning in life, Pastor John counsels us to find comfort in God’s glorious purpose in Christ.

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What loosens lust’s grip on the heart? John Piper shows from Ephesians 5:3–6 how thanksgiving displaces the covetous desires that feed lust.

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At some point today, you will encounter a task you need to do but would really rather not do.

You will stare with dread at your Anatomy and Physiology textbook. Or you will hear your three-year-old spill a jar of jellybeans across the kitchen floor. Or you will remember you have a technical report due today. Or you will see crusty dishes on the counter.

And in that moment, the voice of laziness may be loud in your mind. “Grab your phone” or “Grab a snack,” it will insist. Or perhaps more subtly: “Take care of other work first.” My own laziness loves to hide behind a show of hustle and bustle. I sometimes check a dozen tasks off my to-do list while neglecting the most necessary one, like a man sidestepping a large hole in his living-room floor to dust the shelves.

Scripture rouses our inner sluggard in many ways:

• “Look to the future,” says Proverbs 20:4, “and remember that laziness today brings pain tomorrow.”
• “Look to those around you,” says Proverbs 10:26, “and remember that laziness undermines love.”
• “Look to your own peace of mind,” says Ecclesiastes 5:12, “and remember the sweetness of the laborer’s sleep.”

Alongside these needed reminders, I’ve recently found help from another: There is no task, however unpleasant, that you cannot accomplish with joy.

Serve the Lord with Gladness

Laziness draws much of its power from one unstated belief: I cannot do the task set before me with joy. Therefore, if I’m going to do it, I will need to summon as much willpower as I can.

But that’s not true. You can read the textbook, sweep up the jellybeans, write the report, and clean the dishes with joy. You may not giggle as you work. You may not love the task so much that you spill more jellybeans just for fun. But the command to “serve the Lord with gladness” is not reserved for our favorite kinds of service (Psalm 100:2). The words apply everywhere and always. And if God commands gladness, God can give gladness.

The apostle Paul issued his own version of “serve the Lord with gladness” when he addressed bondservants in Ephesus. Servitude was not an enviable position in the ancient world. Thankless and tiresome duties filled many bondservants’ days. Yet Paul still called these brothers and sisters to “[render] service with a good will as to the Lord and not to man” (Ephesians 6:7).

For Christians, the opposite of laziness is not just working hard but working hard with gladness and a good will. I know that may sound discouraging — “You’re telling me I need to not only clean the dishes but somehow enjoy doing so?” But let’s reframe the call like this: In Christ, you don’t have to clean the dishes with a murmur and a grumble. You can actually do so with gladness. And if you believe you can do any task with gladness, you’re more likely to take the first step.

Where does that gladness come from, though? It comes from two little words in both Psalm 100:2 and Ephesians 6:7: “the Lord.” Whatever task you face, the Lord Jesus commissions you and promises to strengthen and reward you.

Jesus Commissions You

Several years ago, a friend prayed for me in a way that still strikes me. He said, “Father, please help Scott to do his work today as if Jesus himself had asked him to do it, as if Jesus himself were his boss.” I had never thought of my work that way — and what a difference it made.

Paul guides us to find the Lord Jesus in the details of our God-given callings. The Ephesian bondservants were first and foremost “bondservants of Christ” who “[rendered] service . . . to the Lord” (Ephesians 6:6–7). Or as he told bondservants in Colossae, “You are serving the Lord Christ” (Colossians 3:24). Day after day, these servants heard their masters command, “Make dinner” or “Clean the entryway” or “Deliver this letter.” But behind each instruction, Jesus wanted them to hear his voice.

How might you tidy your living room if Jesus himself asked you to do it? How might you take out the trash? How might you study for a test, or prepare a slideshow, or serve a hard-to-love church member? Would you receive the task differently if it came from the one who died for you, rose for you, and rescued you?

We tend to work gladly when we love the one we work for. And Christians work for the Lord Jesus in whatever we do, whether we ring up groceries, deliver packages, change diapers, or perform surgeries (Colossians 3:17). Our company is the Kingdom of Heaven. Our boss is Christ the Lord. So when you face an unpleasant task today, remember that the work comes from the one who has loved you with an everlasting love.

Of course, in a digital world like ours, not every task that comes our way is ours to handle; not every need we hear about is ours to meet. But if the work before us lies in the path of our life callings — as a husband or wife, father or mother, student or employee, and so on — then we can safely assume the work has come down from above.

Jesus Strengthens You

Sometimes, we look at a task before us, measure it against our own desire or strength, and wonder where in the world we’re going to find the resources we need. When nine-tenths of us begs to do anything except write the research paper or clear out the gutters, where does the one-tenth find help?

In Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret, the great missionary to China gives us an image worth remembering as we face unwelcome work:

It little matters to my servant whether I send him to buy a few cash worth of things, or the most expensive articles. In either case he looks to me for the money and brings me the purchases. So, if God should place me in serious perplexity, must He not give me much guidance; in positions of great difficulty, much grace; in circumstances of great pressure and trial, much strength? (165)

Likewise, it little matters whether our Lord sends us to do a great, exciting task or one we would rather avoid our whole lives. If he should give us work that requires more strength than we have, won’t he also supply what we lack? Our Lord is no Pharaoh; if he bids us make bricks, won’t he give us the straw (Exodus 5:5–9)?

Too often, as I stare at some hard task, I assume my weakness and unwillingness are unchangeable. But when I think this way, I fail to account for the one “who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:13). I do not reckon with the possibility of serving “by the strength that God supplies” (1 Peter 4:11). I assume prayer has no power to change how I feel.

Jesus not only hands us the work we do. He also takes us by the hand and strengthens us for the work — if only we’ll look to him, depend on him, and trust in his promises. “Lord, help me serve you with gladness” is a request he loves to answer.

Jesus Rewards You

We will face harder tasks, of course, than homework and dishes. But don’t exclude these small duties from the work God has set before you and for which he will reward you. Isn’t it a reward to lie down at night spent but satisfied? Isn’t it a reward to say with Paul, “I worked hard . . . though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me” (1 Corinthians 15:10)? Isn’t it a reward to hear even a whisper of our Lord’s “Well done”? If we can glorify God by eating and drinking (1 Corinthians 10:31), then we can glorify him by reading and writing and cleaning and serving and planning and any other little work our laziness tempts us to neglect.

What a kind Lord we have. If he thus commissions us, strengthens us, and rewards us, we don’t have to listen to our laziness when it tells us only drudgery and gloom lie ahead. We can instead look unpleasant tasks in the face, pray for help, and then, with God’s promises in hand, serve our Lord Jesus with gladness.

How can anyone hope to understand the ways and wonders of God? Only the Spirit of God, through the words of Scripture, can reveal that truth.

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“I’m so sorry I’m late.” As my son climbed into our minivan, my apology felt weak. I had misjudged the time — again. I didn’t leave any margin as I hurried to finish a project at home, so when another child needed care, the situation delayed me from picking up my waiting son. Then I hit extra traffic en route. Mom guilt weighed heavily on me as I realized running late was a pattern for me, even though it’s one I had hoped to avoid as a parent.

Many strategies and tools help us stay on schedule. Calendars, to-do lists, timers, alarms, and even a phone call from a friend can keep us accountable and remind us of our priorities and responsibilities. These tools serve me well, and I’ll keep using them. But even when I allow myself an extra fifteen to thirty minutes, say no to the extra chore, and keep a waiting child’s interests in mind (Philippians 2:3–4), there’s no guarantee I’ll arrive on time. First, I’m not in control. Any number of circumstances could interrupt my best-laid plans. What’s more, I’m limited. I get tired and forgetful. As much as I try to stay organized, I can’t always keep all the details straight.

Apologizing to my son was the right step, and he graciously forgave me. But here’s more good news to address the mom guilt that you and I feel: Only God is God. Only he is sufficient to meet both our needs and our children’s needs. Although he created us in his image, God’s omniscience, eternality, and power belong to him alone — and he promises to carry us when we fall (Psalm 37:24). So let God be God, and aim to be like him in the ways that you can be.

Let God Be God

Moms juggle so many responsibilities. Maybe you rock at time management, but you struggle to keep your house clean. Studying who God is and who we aren’t offers great encouragement to moms, because even though we might try to do it all, only God always completes his to-do list. God created us not as his equals but as creatures designed to depend on him (Genesis 1–3).

God declared to Israel there is no other like him: Only God is God (Deuteronomy 4:39). He reveals his true character in Scripture and ultimately through his Son, Jesus Christ, who “is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation” (Colossians 1:15). Among God’s many attributes, some are unique to him (what theologians call “incommunicable”), and others he shares with us through the Holy Spirit (called “communicable”). Only God is self-existent and self-sufficient. He alone is all-powerful, all-knowing, and present everywhere. No one else is sovereign, eternal, incomprehensible, or unchangeable the way God is.

From pressures within and without, we can be tempted to co-opt God’s incommunicable attributes. We can try to be sovereign, striving to control uncertain situations or even our children’s behavior and speech. With the rise of digital technology, we can pretend to be all-knowing; it’s easy to ask an AI bot any question. We can think and act as if human self-sufficiency is a virtue instead of identifying its root: disguised pride.

Eventually, we reach our limits, and our meager efforts fail us. Real hope and peace reside not in false ideas of omnipotence but in surrender. We lean into God’s sovereignty. We trust that his watchful eye always presides over our children. We depend on God for his wisdom and strength instead of mustering our own.

Ultimately, God’s incommunicable attributes encourage me. They lift the burden of doing it all — and doing it all flawlessly — off my shoulders. Given my propensity to squeeze too much into too little time, it’s particularly comforting to know that God is eternal, so I don’t have to be. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, over the course of a lifetime may never be enough for me to accomplish my plans, but as “the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last,” without beginning or end, God lives outside the constraints of time (Revelation 22:13). With him, “one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day” (2 Peter 3:8). As he is faithful and true, I can always depend on him — and so can my children.

Be Like God in the Ways You Can Be

God communicates — or shares — other aspects of his character with his children. God is holy, loving, merciful, just, good, patient, generous, and faithful. We will never attain the fullness of God’s character, but as believing women, through the Holy Spirit we can grow and bear fruit in God’s communicable attributes — and we should.

You’ve probably seen a bride wear a veil on her wedding day. Maybe you even wore one yourself. While the veil covers a bride’s face, she can’t see clearly, but when her veil is lifted, she sees her groom face to face. Moses wore a veil after he met with God on Mount Sinai because the Israelites could not bear to behold the glory of the Lord (Exodus 34:29–33; 2 Corinthians 3:7). The apostle Paul draws upon this imagery to describe what it’s like when we turn to Christ. No longer does Scripture appear blurry, but the Holy Spirit reveals God’s glory in a way we’ve never seen it before. Now, as believing women, “We all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Corinthians 3:18).

As we behold the glories of Christ, we become more like him. We start to think, talk, and act like Jesus. We start to want what Jesus wants; things that once appealed to us don’t any longer. Dependent on the Lord, abiding in him, with his life-giving sap running through us, we bear fruit that matches his character: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22–23). God’s very patience in us enables us to respond more patiently than before. God’s very love in us flows to our families. Not perfectly, but with increasing measure, we reflect our Lord as we relate to our spouses, children, friends, neighbors, church members, and coworkers.

As Christian mothers, it’s our privilege and duty to teach our children about God, his character, and his ways. We’re called to show our children what it means to follow Jesus and become more like him (Deuteronomy 6:7). But God isn’t calling us to be perfect moms who always show up on time and have everything together. Instead, as forgiven moms, our mission is to point our children to our perfect Savior. When we surrender to him, God can use even our weakness and sin to magnify his attributes. Then we help our children understand how much we all need Jesus, the only sufficient Savior.