But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9
The start of a new school year is often filled with mixed emotions in our home. That was certainly true this past week as my daughter started kindergarten at a new school. At open house, her teacher asked her a few questions and she looked terrified as she stared back in silence. I wanted to encourage her in that moment, but I felt like I failed. Never have I felt more weak, helpless, and incompetent than I have as a mom.
As moms, we want to fill our children with courage — not to puff them up with pride or to make them believe they are invincible. Rather, we want them to understand what it means to be in Christ and to live out of that identity with boldness and joy. As I left the school, I knew I needed to run to Jesus. Before I could encourage my daughter, I needed to be reminded of my identity and embrace feeling weak because it is the very place where His strength is most powerfully at work.
Jesus told his disciples in John 14 that He would send the Holy Spirit to be their “Helper.” Jesus knows life is difficult, and He doesn’t intend for us to do it alone. It’s His pleasure and desire to counsel us even in the moments that feel mundane or insignificant. When we model a relationship with Jesus for our children, there is truly power, for them and for us. He is our helper, He is near, and He desires to walk with us every step of the way, every moment of the day.
If our greatest comfort in life is knowing God, the surest way to find it is through his Word because that’s where He reveals Himself. Scripture reminds us of the God who saw Hagar in her distress and provided for her. We are reminded of the Syrophoenician woman’s faith-filled cries and the Savior who answered her. We behold the God who replenishes the weary and comforts the afflicted.
It’s not our perfect love and perfect parenting that will reflect Jesus to our children; it’s humbly admitting our dependence on Christ’s perfect love and perfect life that points them to their own need for a Savior. When we aren’t relying on ourselves, He draws us in and revives us. We can’t be raised up in His grace and power until we are humbled. The depths are the way to the heights. We look to Him, knowing that “He gives strength to those who are tired and power to those who are weak” (Isaiah 40:29).
When we speak these truths to our children, it is not wasted. It’s not wasted on our children, and it’s certainly not wasted on us. The Bible stories we read to them about God promising to send a Messiah to save His people from their sins are also for us. The songs we sing about the goodness of God are also for us. The hug I gave my scared child on the first day of school with the whispered promise that “God is always with us, and He loves us” - that was for me, too.
There’s such freedom in confessing our weaknesses and struggles to Him, and such joy and peace in preaching the truth to our hearts, our children, and everyone we meet.
We can praise God for a new grasp of what it means to cling to him - because we know that when we are weak, He is strong.