All children need correcting and training. But must the process turn diligent parents into joyless fault-finders with exacting standards? Could we retrain ourselves actually to enjoy our kids while molding them in righteousness? As my husband, Tom, and I asked God these questions, we came to see that our children’s faults were like specks compared to our own plank-size failings (Mt. 7:3 ). Over time, we were able to pinpoint three key areas in which God was calling us to repent.

Purge parental pride.

When I was a young mother, I wanted others to admire Tom and me for our lovely children. But, of course, they weren’t always lovely—or admirable. This assault on my pride forced me to ask some hard questions. How similar were my motives to the builders of the Tower of Babel, who revealed their prideful hearts with these words: “Let us �?make a name for ourselves�?(Gen. 11:4 )? God’s response—to thwart their efforts and cause confusion—really struck home.

The abundant life I longed to create for our family was often marred with abundant frustration. Despite having a loving and tender heart, one of our kids struggled daily with an auditory processing disorder and impaired motor skills, which made basic social interaction difficult. Despite their intelligence, both of our children have special academic needs. Though we eventually learned neurology was to blame, I had to acknowledge that God was using the turmoil to reveal that my heart was set on raising trophy children.

Painful realizations such as these set us on the path to freedom—the freedom that lets us cry out, “May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world�?(Gal. 6:14 ).

Eradicate idolatry.

“No matter how much I try, you’re never satisfied�?is a familiar lament of teenagers. When our kids say such things, we know our goals have ceased to be legitimate. Instead they have become idolatrous “monster demands,�?a term author Ken Sande uses in The PeaceMaker to describe overblown, conflict-causing expectations.

How do we fall into this trap? Sometimes we feel so possessive about our kids and the dreams we have for them that we forget that they, like Isaac, must be left at the altar (Genesis 22 ). “Many are the plans in a man’s heart,�?wrote Solomon, “but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails�?(Prov. 19:21 ). Tom and I have to believe this proverb—otherwise we could never submit our dearly held hopes to the Lord and His purposes, and we’d never be free from the snare of discontentment.

We’re learning that discontentment blares the warning: “You have strayed from your first love. Your souls need a good talking to.�?I’m always inspired when I see how David focused on God, how he wrote and sang psalms to strengthen his resolve to remain steadfast in his love of the Lord. “I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation�?(Ps. 13:5 ). As obvious as it is, we forget that our children can never satisfy our deepest needs. That’s why God pleads, with a yearning that virtually oozes from the page,

Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.

�?A target=_top href="http://www.navpress.com/Magazines/DJ/forbusywomen.msnw?action=get_message&mview=0&ID_Message=16458&LastModified=4675460012793884378">Is. 55:2

Choose trust over unbelief.

Digging deeper still, our parental anxiety forced us to ask, “Where is our faith? How can we possess the confidence that Paul exuded when he said, ‘I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him�?(2 Tim. 1:12 )?�?/DIV>