The sunlight lengthens across the dining room table where I sit and write. It’s late afternoon and in this part of the world, we’re enjoying that gold stretching of light at the end of the day. I couldn’t sleep last night, tossing and turning and trying to figure out why I’ve had so much trouble getting my brain to stop jumping the tracks when all is calm and quiet at home. We’re nearly a month out now from my teenaged son’s spinal fusion surgery, and he is now sleeping through the night peacefully, free from the crushing pain that threatened to swallow him those first weeks. He stands taller now—three inches, in fact. He’s fourteen-years-old and more than eleven inches taller than me now.
I wiped the dry-erase board clean of the medication schedule the other day. He’s on nothing stronger than Tylenol now, and only occasionally. He no longer needs a walker to stand up from the couch or the bed. He can get in and out of the car a little faster. He can almost take his shoes off by himself. When the surgeon showed me the before and after x-rays last week, I started crying. Miracle. Today I was filming my son walking around the house so I could document the improvement in his gait, and when he noticed, he broke out into a dance so normal-looking that you’d never know that most of his spine was broken, taken apart, and put back together 24 days ago. He’s a marvel.
I have moved to the other side of this ordeal with my son—the years of knowing the surgery was coming, the eight months of trips to the children’s hospital and planning and preparing, the surgery itself, and the month of recovery so far—and I have watched a child that I thought I knew inside and out become someone I am learning from. I didn’t know this is who he was. I didn’t know that the words coming from his truest self in his hardest life circumstances to date would be “God is carrying me through” or “I couldn’t do this without the Lord’s help” or “God is with me” or “Can we pray, Mama?” I hoped, but I didn’t know. Now I know. And I marvel.
As Christian parents, we want our kids who have professed faith in Jesus to learn perseverance and endurance. We want them to own their faith, to really lean into their relationship with Christ as their relationship with Him, not ours. It’s what my husband and I have prayed specifically for our son since the surgeon said “it’s time” last summer. But, on the other hand, we want to shield our kids from pain. We want them to learn perseverance and endurance and real, personal faith without having to go through anything hard. That’s not quite how it works in the Christian life. Perseverance is cultivated in adversity. When I’m praying for my sons to walk in faithfulness to and with Jesus, essentially I’m praying for God to use whatever circumstances He deems necessary to sanctify them. And while that scares me, I’ve learned lately that my son is safest in the hand of his God who called him out of darkness and into His marvelous light. I’ve also learned that safe doesn’t mean what I want it to mean.
I know kids are resilient, much more so than adults, I think. But, resilience doesn’t necessarily equal trust in God with your very life. You can be resilient after hard challenges and still reject the gospel. So, while my son has shown himself to have a layer of resilience I didn’t know he possessed, I also know that this tenacious faith in the Lord to sustain him in physical suffering didn’t just materialize out of nowhere. No, it was planted, watered, grown. The Spirit has been at work in him. Just like He is in me or you or anyone who is walking with Christ. Age is just a number. It isn’t an accurate reflection of how deep or how personal someone’s relationship with Jesus might be. What I’m saying is that I was surprised to see the Lord take years and years of unremarkable discipleship and teaching and church-going and praying—and He showed us that it all proves true. God really does sustain. Jesus really is with us. Faith really does grow with time. Scripture really is true. The Spirit really does sanctify. Your heart really is safe in the Father’s hand. His Word really doesn’t return void. Your kids really are listening when you’re sure they’re not. God really does answer prayers.
I was surprised to see this, and I’m not sure why except that much of the time I am Peter sinking in the waves, blindly grasping for Jesus’s hand while my eyes are glued to the things that scare me when I’d rather be the one crying out, “I believe! Help my unbelief!”
But I have watched the Lord answer eight months of incredibly specific prayers, some I prayed with so much half-heartedness and disbelief I’m sure the Lord answered just to show me something about myself.
I’ve got a lot of years ahead still of parenting kids at home. Not many more with this son in particular as he will continue to find his way in the world, but he has a younger brother and there is plenty yet for me to learn and navigate as a mother. What I’m learning is that raising kids to know and love Jesus is hard—gets harder, even, as they get older and closer to leaving the nest. And we have no guarantee that our kids will believe in Christ. But it is not a waste of time to point them to Christ each day. The family devotions that end in burping contests or kids flipping off the side of the couch are not as fruitless as you feel. Making sure they are in church regularly to hear the gospel preached faithfully and to see the body love and serve in Spirit and in truth is a discipline that will cost you time and rest but is crucial to shaping their hearts. Praying with your kids in the moment might feel awkward at first, but it can become a family practice that becomes as natural as breathing. Inviting your kids into your Bible reading may be cumbersome but is real life-on-life discipleship that shows them that God’s Word is a treasure. Laying the groundwork of lived faith in Jesus feels like unglamorous, unseen grunt work. But, I’m convinced that it is good work. When you give your kids the truth to hold on to, the Spirit can bring it to their minds when they need to hold on to it the most. He can do a lot with your weak faith and feeble parenting endeavors.
This post isn’t in any way intended to say that parenting a certain way guarantees faith in your children. We know that it is God who calls, justifies, glorifies. He is the One we pray to for our children’s salvation. We cannot manipulate that into being. But He is pleased for us to parent with faith, to point our children to Him, to disciple them in the big and small moments of life to see that Jesus is the greatest treasure of all and is worth giving our entire life to and for. It is our duty as Christian parents to obey Him in our parenting and also to trust Him with the results. I’m merely writing this post with gratitude that God has brought about saving faith in my son and is sanctifying him. Too often, I am fixated on what I fear, on the suffering itself and not the One who is doing ten thousand good things behind the curtain of His faithful sovereignty.
I’m still barely halfway there, and maybe one day I will look back at these words and wonder why I thought I could write with so much certainty, but that’s just it—I’m certain. No matter what, I’m certain. It all holds. Jesus proves true. He always will.
Maybe one day I will look back at these words and wonder why I thought I could write with so much certainty, but that’s just it—I’m certain. No matter what, I’m certain. It all holds. Jesus proves true. He always will. Share on X
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.