Day 1

“Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted.” (Galatians 6:1, ESV)

“But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8, ESV)

“No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.” (1 John 4:12, ESV)

I held the phone in my hand, preparing to apologize for shouting at a four-year-old. My four-year-old.

It had been a classic situation in my paper towel–commercial life: I had four kids under five, and I was perpetually wiping . . . everything. Which was a lot like running a twenty-four-hour preschool. Daily I rode waves of apple juice, laundry, and exhaustion. My emotional control felt translucent, perhaps correlating with my need to shower.

I’d attempt to leave the house with these culprits, but one would mess their pants or fail to produce matching shoes. Agh! Margin (whatever that was) felt nonexistent.

So I was frequently late. And frequently yelling, as was exemplified that morning in the flurry of leaving for my single, coveted day in the office. I’d erupted at my oldest, Baden. I’d called it discipline.

I’d apologized in the moment. But the apology had not been pulled from the heart level. Focused on his disobedience, I’d huffed out the door, slapping a smile on my face while I dropped the kids at my mom’s.

I now phoned him there, metaphorical hat in hand, attempting an interaction more like one of Jesus’. But with zero hesitation during that call, my prekindergartner spoke Jesus to me.

“Mommy, I forgive you. And I want to let you know that even when you do bad things, I still love you. And even when you do bad things, God still loves you.” The breathtaking power of my teachable moment lay in my preschooler repeating the gospel back to me. He not only got it; he applied it.

Now I felt really crummy for yelling.

In that moment, Baden chose emotional strength. He opted against punishing or stonewalling me; instead, he extended a preschool version of redemption. Meanwhile, God had overcome my parental arrogance and superiority so I could humble myself before a child and lean toward him—my enemy of the moment—rather than away, like God did for me (Romans 5:8). What had been an awkward, destructive interaction suddenly bloomed into beauty.

I’m saying your worst parenting moments are God’s best gospel opportunities—if you’re brave enough to apologize out loud.

Failures turned gospel opportunities remain a theme in our house. In my experience, just-blew-it moments (my kids’, my husband’s, and mine) aren’t just occasions for repentance or discipline. On our blackest parenting days—ones filled with gutting loss, fear, health crises, heartfelt confessions—God has handed my husband, John, and me our greatest opportunities for kneading God’s “attachment love” into our family. These dark moments become wide-open end zones for his hesed—unconditional, all-in, no-way-out covenant love—to touch down.

Because in our hours of intense need, God moves toward us. Not away.

Emotionally healthier, stronger, and more resilient parenting is about embracing what I’ll call everyday gospel opportunities: This is what Jesus looks like. This is how he loves us. Together, we will find the way back to wholeness.

Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.