In Stephen Ambrose’s remarkable book D-Day, he describes events that occurred in St. Laurent, France, immediately after the Americans stormed the beaches of Normandy. Following closely behind his troops, General Gerhardt came ashore to evaluate his unit’s progress as they fought street by street. Shockingly, the general saw a soldier eat an orange…and throw a peel to the ground. American GIs were stunned when the general gave the GI “a furious tongue-lashing for littering.”1
Ambrose relates another strange sight: “In the midst of this street fighting, several men from the 115th regiment were shocked to see Lt. Col. William Warfield, commander of the 2nd Battalion, calmly sitting on a curb with his feet extended into the street, tossing pebbles at a scruffy dog.”2
Unfortunately, as a parent, I can identify with each of these responses. Gerhardt had an image in his mind of how a soldier should conduct himself. When that soldier failed, Gerhardt snapped. He entirely missed the significance of the larger battle and the remarkable achievement of that soldier making it to shore at all. Unfortunately, it is not uncommon for me to pick the ridiculous as a combat point in parenting. When I do this, my response is often born from a fearful desire to keep the image of what I want for my child intact, while missing the larger spiritual battle for my child’s heart. Similarly, like Warfield aimlessly throwing pebbles at a dog, I can become disengaged and defeated in parenting, particularly when the image of who I think my children should be does not unfold as planned.
The Second Commandment in Parenting
Exodus 20:4-6 reads:
“You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the LORD your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and fourth generation, of those who hate me, but showing steadfast love to thousands of those who love me and keep my commandments.”
The second commandment does not just apply to desperate Israelites worried about how long it had been since Moses went up Mt. Sinai; rather, these gracious words teach me to trust in a God I cannot see, to serve him alone, and to remember that my obedience has generational repercussions.
God’s Invisible Work
God is invisible. Often, his work in our children is invisible as well, sometimes for decades. Faith is believing what we cannot see and continuing, even when our efforts seem to yield poor results. Like the Israelites, we can be tempted to create something visible to soothe our uneasy hearts. Before long, we find ourselves bowing down to the image of the Instagram-worthy family. We seek control and assurance that our child is on the path we think is best, becoming who we want them to be. Instead, we must trust our invisible God as our children grow, even when they fail, don’t meet our expectations, or suffer pain. Their lives have a divine purpose, even when we cannot see it yet.
Serve God Alone in Parenting
In his great mercy, God allows our children not just to tarnish our images, but to smash them to pieces. We may expect them to become great athletes, musicians, or scholars. Yet, they might be uncoordinated, tone-deaf, or hate to read. We might assume that if we train them up in the way they should go, they will follow the Lord every day of their lives. Instead, they could spend years in rebellion.
Without even realizing it, we may expect that our children will live healthy, vibrant lives, only to have that image shattered when they suffer from cancer, learning disabilities, genetic disorders, or mental illness. The ultimate sacrifice may be if the Lord calls our child home before he calls us. It is easy to forget in our parenting that we serve God alone, not our children or our own ideas about them. We are simply stewards of a great gift, and we must trust the Giver.
My youngest child contributed significantly to my growth in humility. This is the child who gave herself a reverse mohawk not once, but twice, as a toddler. That’s not a haircut you can redeem, even with headbands or bows. I called poison control on her more times than my other three children combined. She drew on walls for years and even etched her name three feet wide across the hood of my van with a rock.
During this season, my mother-in-law often encouraged me to stop worrying about others’ opinions or expecting this child to be someone she was not. My job was to parent the individual child the Lord entrusted to me. Just like riding a bike, some children take longer to learn skills than others, including self-control and obedience. I needed to be on God’s timeline and agenda, not my own, or anyone else’s.
The Why
The second commandment has a little conjunction in it—the word “for”—that links the command to the why. Moses tells us that God is jealous for our worship. When I worship images of my children, which I have created, instead of the true God, three or four generations to come will feel the consequences of that iniquity. But Moses doesn’t leave me in despair. He also says that God’s steadfast love is showered on those who love and obey him. It extends for a thousand generations.
Because of Christ’s saving work, his blood covers my parenting failures. When indicators of hyper-control or disengagement reveal that I have been worshipping an image I’ve created of my child instead of the Lord, Christ’s blood covers that too. His mercies are new every morning. His steadfast love extends for a thousand generations of those who love him and obey his commands.
The Rooted Parent Podcast, hosted by Cameron Cole and Anna Meade Harris, equips and encourages parents as they disciple their children to lifelong faith in Jesus.
