You Are Not Enough (And That is Not Failure)
“You are not enough. Not enough. Not enough.”
Those hard words have been the mantra accompanying me as I’ve parented our children into adulthood. However, I am continually and graciously reminded to embrace the freedom found in their somber tone. Words that once felt like a condemnation of me as a mother have become a necessary reminder of the One who is enough and abundantly more than enough. His burden, I’m reminded, is easy and light (Matt. 11:30).
I was part of the latchkey generation. I greeted my sister off the bus, helped with homework, and made ramen noodles for dinner in our apartment through the upheaval years of abuse, divorce, and an absent parent. That affected me. Because I had seen what “not-enough” looked like in its broken form, I determined to grab hold of “be-enough” in the perceived Christian form. When I became a mom, I jumped all in. I left behind a nursing career to be a stay-at-home mom. Ravenous for wisdom on how to do it right, I turned to Christian authors and teachers for guidance. In the era before podcasts, I listened to radio broadcasts while I did the dishes at night and read books after my babies were tucked in. Many of these sources led me to believe the outcome of my parenting lay squarely on my shoulders. If I wanted to raise Christian kids, I needed to do A, B, and C. I took notes. I did the A, B, and C. However, Jesus did not say: I am the way, the truth, and the life, no one comes to the Father except through their mothers. And yet, these perfect parenting formulas selling future success were the very ones I bought.
Presently, by God’s good grace, five of our ten children are grown. With their growth, I grew as a mother. The illusion of my perceived parental powers slowly fell away, and the humble realization that I could not be enough trembled into its place. With each of our children the reminders have come, in different ways, that I am not meant to be enough. My mothering is not enough and that is exactly as it should be. This realization cut sharply at first, and I argued with the Lord about it. But these days, it appears as a reminding tap on the shoulder to lift my chin heavenward. Protect my adult children? I’m simply not able. Convince them to listen to voices of experience? I probably can’t do that either. Change their hearts? Definitely not in my wheelhouse. When professions of faith have been made in the lives of our kids, I praise God alone, knowing that the deep heart work wasn’t my doing. When a profession of unbelief also came, I wept and worshiped, knowing this too was ultimately beyond my control yet completely in the control of the Father.
These limitations as a mother reveal my weakness in comparison to Christ’s all-sufficient power and perfection. He alone is the source of our salvation. When I reach the end of my own resources and fully surrender, I am reminded of Christ’s declaration to Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9). I confess: “I am weak. I am weak. I am weak.” I am not enough, and yet this is not failure but an invitation to trust the One who is.
To be clear, surrender is not passivity. I can stay present and love well: through texts, hugs, words of affirmation, and through modeling my own need for Christ. I confess when I sin. I ask forgiveness. I model a life hidden in Christ, delighting in his Word. And I can pray, which may be the single most important thing.
When life handed us a season of estrangement with an adult child, I learned to stay present in prayer in a way that I never had before. There is nothing the enemy, or my children, can do to intercept my prayers. In our story, a desperate prayer for wisdom, led me to pursue my child’s heart via texts. I echoed and re-echoed the Father’s love in my words of love. And then, I left that great, seemingly impossible work of reconciliation in his capable hands. God waited until I was literally physically incapable of interfering, not even remotely in the same time-zone, to do this work. We were halfway across the globe working in Asia when he moved. I wept and I praised him, realizing that all my own plans for reconciliation had fallen through, but the Lord had been at work all along. “Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the LORD that will stand” (Prov. 19:21).
Perhaps in frustration you’ve thought, “I have tried everything and all that I have left is prayer.” You may have underestimated the magnitude of speaking to the Father on behalf of your kids but you’re about to discover how powerful it is. The God who is sufficient to transform a human heart is the same God who actively pursues the lost lamb till it’s found.
I wish I could say the era of Christian parenting formulas has passed. However, in Christian circles especially, we still love a book promising the key to parenting success. The good intentions are marketed quite well: connect with your kids, be a better mama, andhave Christian kids because you raised them right. Who doesn’t want that? But approach with caution, because when you dig in, too often it’s another burdensome to-do list for mothers to “get it right.”
Mamas, do not be deceived, it is all grace. Yes, be faithful in what the Lord calls you to be faithful in. Then, leave the business of sufficiency and heart change to him.
Discussing this sufficiency of Christ one night, my husband and I were struck by the sudden realization of the miraculous in our own lives. My husband comes from a broken, abusive home that has now been transformed by the gospel. I too come from a broken, abusive home. Somehow, without our parents being Christian super-parents, the Spirit grabbed hold of our hearts, and we believed. He still works wonders. It is not all up to you.
In a few weeks one of our adult kids will road-trip several states away. My patient Father taps me on the shoulder, reminding me of his all-sufficiency. I am not enough, but he is. I nod my head knowingly to the Lord. And pray.