Cut Yourself Some Slack
Posted on March 6, 2008
Filed Under Parenting |
If this has happened once, it’s happened dozens of times. Whether I’ve been introduced to a new couple or I’m visiting with old friends, eventually I like to bring the conversation around to their children. I’ll ask, “So, how are your kids doing these days?”
With broad smiles and glowing faces, they’re eager to report the good things going on with several of their kids. So-and-so is “doing great in school” . . . “made honors English” . . . “got the lead in the school play” . . . “scored the winning goal” . . . or “was hired by a big law firm.” They’re irresistibly proud of their son or daughter, and it shows.
Then comes the long pause.
Searching for the right words, a pained look settles over them like a dark cloud. Finally, they mention one of their children “needs prayer,” is “making bad decisions,” “got pregnant and isn’t married,” or decided to “drop out of college.” They might confess they’re worried about the direction a teenager is headed or fret over the apparent lack of interest in spiritual matters.
As these folks open up, their words are seasoned with sadness and a touch of embarrassment. Some will add, “I just don’t know what’s going on with her” . . . “I can’t explain why he’s making such poor choices” . . . “we raised her the same way as the other kids” . . . “what I can’t figure out is how he turned out so differently from his siblings.”
I can understand their puzzlement. Same house. Same set of family rules. Same investment of time. Same show of affection. And yet, opposite outcomes. Frustrated, these couples search my eyes as if I could help them pinpoint where they went wrong. I can tell they’re longing for someone to give them the insight that might turn things around for their prodigal.
Defeated and overwhelmed to the point of tears, they second-guess themselves . . . “Did we make mistakes with him?” . . . “Did we miss opportunities to connect with her?” . . . “Should we have fought less?” . . . “Maybe if we had prayed more . . .”
In my view second-guessing is an unproductive expenditure of energy. Were parenting mistakes made? Probably. Could they have done a better job of showing unconditional love? Perhaps. The truth is that there are no perfect parents. Not now. Not ever. Which is why nobody parents perfectly. I’ll be the first to say there’s always room for improvement on my part.
Guess what? Even if you and I were to do a near-perfect job of parenting, there’s still no guarantee that our children will excel in their studies, make the best choices, date the right kind of person, embrace our value system, or invite Jesus into their hearts. Why? Our kids are not little vending machines—you know, insert the right change and get the same product every time.
Case in point.
Guess what Billy Graham, Josh McDowell, and Wes Craven have in common? They all graduated from Wheaton College, a Christian college in Illinois. Upon graduation, Billy Graham preached the Good News to millions around the world and Josh McDowell became a world-renown Christian apologist.
By contrast, filmmaker Wes Craven has terrorized millions of kids with his brand of blood-drenched, depraved horror movies, including the wildly popular R-rated slasher films Scream and Nightmare on Elm Street. Not to mention Craven’s iconic slasher hero, Freddy Krueger, is a serial child molester.
How did that happen? Wes went to the same college. He was taught the same Christian value system. He had the same quality of Christian professors. He attended the same kind of weekly chapel services. And yet Wes Craven followed a pathway in life that took him in a polar opposite direction from that of his fellow alumni.
Why are we surprised when this happens? If you read through the Old Testament of the Bible, you’ll be struck by the fact that wicked kings sometimes produced godly sons . . . and godly kings were succeeded by wicked sons.
Here’s what I’m driving at.
Each person is ultimately responsible to God for their choices and behavior. As a parent, I am not responsible for the decisions my boys will one day make. However, as their father I am accountable to God to do my best, to train them in the scripture, and to show them the love of Christ. But one day they will stand before the Lord to give an accounting for their life.
In that respect, we parents would do well to cut ourselves some slack when our kids decide to ignore the wisdom they’ve received. Yes, we should love them well, model grace and forgiveness, and never stop praying for them. Then, while it may break our hearts, I believe we’ve got to release them and leave the results up to God.
Comments
3 Responses to “Cut Yourself Some Slack”
Leave a Reply
Comments are moderated and will not appear on jimdalyblog.com until they've been approved. While we are eager to facilitate conversation by publishing most comments, we may withhold one from time to time if we deem it offensive, vulgar, overly personal, cynical, disrespectful, irrelevant, redundant or unnecessarily contentious. While we encourage you not to make others' misspellings and grammatical mistakes an issue of debate, please do your best to double-check your spelling, use correct capitalization, and use proper grammar.
Jim Daly is the President of Focus on the Family. He has been married to his wife, Jean, since 1986. They have two sons. The Daly family resides in Colorado Springs. Finding Home represents Jim's musings on work, family and faith.
-
Recently Written
-
Categories
-
Monthly Archives
-
Blogroll
-
Subscribe
Subscribe in a reader
© 2007 Focus on the Family. All rights reserved.
I am that parent that you are writing about in this post. My child went astray—a beautiful daughter, beloved and cherished.
I understand what you are trying to say here—“cut yourself some slack” (be gentle and kind to yourself and your performance as a parent). But, it is just not as easy as that. Here is why: being a mother—not just a mother, but also a godly mother—was my passion. I prayed for my children; we raised them in a healthy, well-balanced church; our daughter followed Christ in her early to mid teen years. We were not aware of the pain our future held until we were stunned with news of a pregnancy outside of marriage, marriage to an unbeliever, and a set of circumstances nobody in our family had ever faced. I wept daily for months. The pain was deep, raw, and palpable. As parents, we had tried our best and the outcome we strived for and prayed fervently for was not what we received.
Part of the problem, for me, was trying to answer the questions “Where is God in all of this?” and “Is this how my prayers were answered?” Then came the mental parade of my failures—likely not much different from other parental failures, but in light of our family’s pain, they grew large in our minds and haunted our sleep.
Along with the mental procession of our failures came comments from friends and family, “Wow, we are scared, if it can happen in YOUR family, it could happen to ours.” “We prayed that our children would marry believers, and all of our children have believing spouses.” “You need to confess your family’s sin before the church.” People I know and love made all these comments to me. Perhaps, they did not understand how cutting the comments were to my already bleeding heart.
My point is that parental pain is a multi-faceted problem stemming from disappointment (with how life turned out and even with God), from introspection, and from other people. There are likely other components to the problem of parental pain—I cannot articulate any of them right now. “Cut yourself some slack” is a distressing statement to parents in pain. It feels like another blame on top of the already painful reality.
Years after our pain, we see how God is in the process of creating beauty from ashes. My walk with the Lord is deeper and more passionate than I think it could have been had we not walked a painful road. God is using us to minister to others in pain in ways we could have never imagined. And, best of all, our beautiful prodigal daughter—through circumstances that were unlikely—now walks with the Lord. Only 2 months ago, she came to visit us and, with tears, told us that she loves us, told us that our unconditional love was so important to her, and asked for our forgiveness. The inexpressible joy that evening brought cannot be described.
Still, our daughter’s life bears scars from her choices. Our lives are scarred and our healing wounds still are tender.
Understand that the pain is real and sometimes more excruciating than anyone who has not experienced wounding as a parent can presume. The best thing that my friends did for me when I was in pain was to weep with me, to hold me close, to send me flowers, notes, and cards, and to pray with me and for me.
No, we cannot just “cut ourselves some slack,” that is not the answer. I think wounded parents need to cry and admit the incredible pain of parental wounding. Then, run to Jesus, immerse yourself in the healing waters of the His Word, and trust His sovereign plan (in your life and the life of your child).
Thanks for taking the time to share these very heartfelt feelings. The last thing I wanted to do was to add any guilt or pain on you, my friend.
As I read your note, I was reminded of the story of Job in the Bible. Why? Much like you, Job loved the Lord and regularly prayed for his children. And yet Job experienced more suffering and loss than any other parent in the scriptures.
I wonder how I would have handled things had I been in Job’s shoes: On the same day, his 3,000 camels and 500 yoke of oxen were stolen . . . his 7,000 sheep were “consumed by fire from heaven” . . . and his ten children were killed in a storm. I can’t fathom the pain he experienced—just as I don’t pretend to know how you felt upon hearing the news your daughter was pregnant outside of marriage.
Just like you, I’m sure Job had to wonder, “What was God up to?” and “Why didn’t God answer my prayers to protect my kids?” Likewise, Job had several friends—not to mention his wife—who offered some rather hurtful comments . . . like the one about Job’s need to confess some secret sin that must have brought on all of this torment.
Sound familiar? For the better part of the book, Job and his buddies sat around second-guessing God while attempting to pin the blame on something Job said or did.
Little did Job know that there was a much larger audience in heaven watching his response in this earthly drama. In other words, you and I may never know this side of heaven what God’s greater purpose is when our children play the part of the prodigal.
When I suggested that we parents cut ourselves some slack, my goal was to encourage parents to embrace God’s grace for the mistakes we may have made with our children. I also believe if life teaches us anything, it teaches us that we don’t have control over the actions or outcomes of our children.
The only person I have control over is me, my choices, and my actions. Which is why our best course of action is to pray, pray, and pray each day for our family.
I rejoice with you that your daughter has come full circle and join you in praying for the scars to continue to heal.
I appreciate your reply to my comment, Jim. My heart was touched by the thoughts about Job you shared.
I teach nursing students at a university. One of the first concepts my students must learn is that “pain is whatever the patient says it is.” My students must realize that pain is always subjective—objective findings may or may not reveal the magnitude of the patient’s pain. I teach my students how to carefully and thoroughly assess pain so pain can be addressed in the most beneficial way.
In the same way, parental pain is very subjective. I know objectively that my child’s choices were made as a moral agent separate from me and I was not responsible for her choices. However, that objective knowledge didn’t even touch my subjective experience of parental pain. And, you are correct, the only thing that will ease parental pain of a child gone astray is the healing balm of the grace of God.
Thanks for your post and for your sensitive answer to my comment.