Can I believe God’s promises for my children as much as I do for myself?
This is a question I have been grappling with ever since becoming a mother. Experiencing hard times is one thing. Seeing your children experience hard times is another, be it something as trivial as skinned knees or something far more serious like a medical diagnosis.
I can say things like “God loves them even more than I do,” and often, I believe it. But then there are days when doubt creeps in and I wonder: does God really want what’s best for them? Can I entrust to him the two humans most important to me?
In my head, I know the answer is yes, of course, I can trust him with their little lives. But my actions say “no.” My anxiety says otherwise. Instead, I seek to control their circumstances, micromanage any ounce of discomfort or pain they might face, possessively protect them, and steamroll anyone who dares challenge me as a mama bear.
But the reality is they will experience suffering at some point, whether in five days or five decades. So that leaves us with a choice: when we see our children suffer—or anyone we love for that matter—will we doubt God’s goodness and purpose in their lives? Or will we surrender them into God’s hands and trust that his plans are far greater than we could imagine?
If this blog seems pretty depressing so far, it’s about to take a cute turn, so stick with me.
One of my favorite times of day is reading to my two-year-old son, Jessen, at night in his rocking chair, smelling his recently shampooed hair, with only the glow of the egg lamp lighting the room (if you know, you know). Recently, my son has been requesting his “Jesus book,” aka The Jesus Storybook Bible. Part of me hopes it’s the Holy Spirit already working in his little life, while the other part knows he’s choosing it because the stories are longer than your average Sandra Boynton book. But whatever his motivation, my husband and I are happy to oblige him.
One night, I was reading the story of God asking Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac. This is a tough story to read for anybody—he thought of slaughtering an innocent child doesn’t sit well, no matter how old you are. If you aren’t familiar with this story, here’s the nutshell version:
Abraham and Sarah received a promise from God that their descendants would be as numerous as the stars in the sky (Genesis 15:5). Both Abraham and Sarah laughed in response to God’s promise, as Sarah was well past her childbearing years. But that didn’t stop God. He gave them a son named Isaac, and they must have felt like God was finally fulfilling his promise to them—but not for long. Because in Genesis 22, God asked the impossible of Abraham: to sacrifice his son Isaac back to God.
This request must have been disorienting and confusing to Abraham, and I imagine he doubted whether he heard God correctly. I know I would’ve. But Abraham obeyed. He packed up one morning and took his son Isaac up a mountain to sacrifice him.
At this point in the story, things are still pretty G-rated. But as Abraham picked up a knife and was preparing to kill his own son, I stumbled in my reading. I saw Jessen staring intently at the illustration of Isaac lying on an altar, tied down with rope, with Abraham standing over him. Just as I was trying to figure out how to describe this scene without giving my child nightmares for the foreseeable future, he pointed to the illustration and smiled.
“Abraham is changing Isaac’s diaper!” he said.
I abruptly stopped reading and asked him to repeat himself in case I heard incorrectly. But sure enough, he said that Abraham (“Abam”) was changing Isaac’s diaper.
I couldn’t contain my giggles throughout the rest of the story, leaving my two-year-old very confused but proud of himself for making his mama laugh.
I’ve recounted this story to family and friends many times because it was just so cute and innocent—he thought a potential murder scene was a diaper blowout, after all. But as I wrote this story down in my journal (that I’ll read to my toddler one day and embarrass him), I realized Jessen picked up on something I hadn’t, even though I’d read this story countless times.
With two boys ages two and under, I’ve changed more diapers than I can count (probably also getting close to that “as numerous as the stars in the sky” quantity God mentioned to Abraham, right?). Changing diapers is a gross, intimate, humbling and submissive act. When my little ones are on that changing table, they rely on me to keep them safe, clean, and healthy. They’re vulnerable, powerless, and oblivious to how much they need my help. They’re trusting.
My son had seen in the story of Abraham and Isaac what I couldn’t see—that what looked like a scary, dangerous situation for Isaac was actually a place of safety, intimacy, and trust. Isaac was safe in that moment because he was in the midst of his father’s surrender.
Likewise, our children are safest when we surrender them to the Lord.
That’s the truth about loving a good God—we can trust him with the people we love most. Surrender is rarely easy, especially when it comes to our children. But while surrender is often scary, it is always safe.
Even though we see Abraham obey in this instance, he’d already doubted God many times. He doubted God’s promise that his descendants would be as numerous as the stars. He doubted his wife would give birth at such an old age. He doubted God’s protection to the point of trying to pass off his wife as his sister to save himself. Nevertheless, God was patient with him in his doubt. God didn’t give up on him but rather continued to give him opportunities to trust him. And eventually, Abraham trusted him with the ultimate prize of his life—his son and the fulfillment of God’s promise. He learned that God could be trusted not just with his own life, but with the lives of those he cherished most.
Doubt is only dangerous when it draws us away from God instead of toward him. And, not only can our doubt draw us closer to God, it can draw others closer to God, too. In the story, only one question is recorded from Isaac. Genesis 22:7 says:
“Isaac spoke up and said to his father Abraham, ‘Father?’ ‘Yes, my son?; Abraham replied. ‘The fire and wood are here,’ Isaac said, ‘but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?’”
Abraham responded to this difficult question the only way he knew how—by pointing back to the Father he trusted. In verse 8, Abraham replies and says, “God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering.” And God came through. Just before Abraham plunged the knife through his son’s heart, God stopped him and provided a ram in the bushes nearby.
I’m sure there will be times when my kids ask me questions about God that I can’t answer. I’m sure there will be moments when they sense my doubt, my fear, my anxiety. And I’m okay with that. I want them to see what it’s like to believe in God, which sometimes means we’ll doubt. But I pray that my response to their questions would be like Abraham’s—that even in the midst of my own doubt, I reassure them that God will provide.
That is the response our children need to hear and our souls need to believe in the moments of doubt when it feels like God is asking the unthinkable of us. In the midst of the diagnosis? God will provide. In the midst of mental health struggles? God will provide. In the midst of death and disease? God will provide. In the midst of bullying and breakups? God will provide. We don’t always know how or when that ram of provision will appear in the bushes, but we can know with certainty that it will.
Our children can follow our doubt or our faith, and for me, I hope it’s the latter. Isaac trusted his father because Abraham trusted his Father. My son didn’t see fear in Isaac’s eyes—he saw only trust. Likewise, when my son looks at me, I want him to see how much his mother trusts God. That doesn’t mean I won’t doubt at times—we all do. That doesn’t mean I won’t feel scared for my children at times—I will. But it does mean that even in the midst of doubt, we can still surrender, knowing that God absolutely loves our children even more than we do.
There will be moments when we have to lay ourselves, our children, our hopes, and our dreams on the altar, as it were. It may feel like the ultimate sacrifice when really it’s just an opportunity to trust God more. And in doing so, we teach our children and those around us to trust him, too.
Application:
Who are the people you worry most about? Is it your children, your parents, your siblings, or maybe even a close friend? Spend some time writing down their names and then praying specific prayers over them, asking God to help you trust him with their lives and provide for them in ways you cannot.
Slowly re-read the story of Abraham and Isaac (Genesis 22) and write down any new observations that jump out to you. How would you have responded to God’s request?
Photo Credit: Jared Crouse
Hannah Jessen Conway intentionally pursues themes of faith, motherhood, and mental health in her writing. She works in nonprofit marketing and is publishing her first children’s book in the fall of 2024, inspired by the birth of her deaf son. She’s a Jesus follower, wife to her college sweetheart, and mama of two boys. You can usually find her cheering on the Tar Heels, enjoying the North Carolina sunshine, or writing in a local coffee shop. Read more of her work at hjconway.com.
