Raising Children in God’s Care: All Things to All People
Posted on March 5, 2024 • 5 minutes • 963 words
Photo by RiccardoO Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.
Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,” even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.
God can be all things to all people.
This is a phrase frequently said in Christian spaces.
We use it as a reminder - that no other person (a pastor or a mentor), place (a sanctuary or a retreat), or institution (the Church), can be what God is. No matter how charismatic a person, beautiful a place, or successful an institution, they will inevitably fail or disappoint someone. It’s just part of our nature as humans to be less than perfect. Plus, it’s a red flag if a person, place, or institution is claiming to be a perfect example of God, because that’s impossible.
We are human, and humans fail. Things built by human hands eventually crumble and fall. Institutions built and maintained by humans, no matter how well conceived, have foundational flaws that always come to the fore.
And that’s all okay and a part of life, but we know that God is eternal, all-knowing, all-loving, and perfect.
But one of the situations where we feel like it might be okay to say - maybe I am God? In a way? - is motherhood, especially in the first few years.
In so many ways, those first few years - You are all things to your child. Babies don’t even realize that their parents are separate people until 6 or 7 months old.
You feed your child, hold them, let them know they’re safe just through physical contact and soothing words. You nurture them, help them explore their world, keep them safe by drawing physical boundaries. They look to you for everything - comfort, nurturing, guidance, reassurance, and teaching.
It is both heady and terrifying. It is the source of so many mothers’ feelings of shame, insecurity, and inner turmoil.
When you have to feed, dress, bathe, comfort, play with, maintain a schedule, manage all appointments, and manage a social life for another human, when that human would literally die without you doing all of these things, it can be overwhelming and terrifying and thrilling. You realize how much they rely on you - which is completely. They are completely dependent. There is absolutely no independence - they can do nothing for themselves.
You are all things to your child.
With all that joy and love, though, comes fear and anxiety.
When your child’s well-being - physical, mental, emotional, spiritual - relies on you and your choices, and you know that you are in fact a human who will eventually fail - every failure feels momentous.
After all, our kids might see us as God - however they conceptualize that - but we know better. We know we’re not and that we will fail.
The fear of failure is very real - it’s why so many moms feel “mom guilt.” That feeling that if we are not there for children every moment of every day, something will go “wrong” with them and it will be our fault.
This Psalm reminds us that we cannot be everything to our children. We can be a lot, but not everything. And, in fact, our job is not to be everything - that is an impossible task and an unhealthy one for everyone involved.
What we can do is point our children towards the God who is everything - the one who searches us and knows us, hems us in before and behind, who is ever-present and from whom we cannot flee.
Motherhood makes you feel that presence in a way that nothing else can. Because all of your failures feel so momentous, the knowledge that God is always with you can be intimidating. In some ways it makes you starkly, painfully aware of God’s presence in your life.
Remember, God is not a bully standing over our heads and beating us when we’re wrong. God is a guide, a steadfast helping hand, and a place of rest and encouragement. When we get it wrong, God reassures us, comforts us, and tells us to give it another shot. God is acquainted with all our days - when we sit down and when we rise up, God’s hands lead us and hold us fast.
There is so much rest and peace in that knowledge - that even when we fail God is with us. That even when we flee God sees us. That every moment of every day God knows us in a way that no one else possibly can.
It is a great joy of motherhood to share the truth of God’s unfailing love with our children. And it is a great joy to know it is also true for us.