When I was growing up, I dared not disobey my mother, who was a very strict disciplinarian. She was a tough parent with very high standards and expectations for me. A caring woman in many ways, my mother devoted a great deal of time to providing me with a comfortable and safe home where all my needs were met. Still, there was an expectation of how I would behave, how I would study, how I would dress, and how I would act in private and in public.
As a teenager, I hated the way that my mother tried to control me. In high school, my mother forced me into wearing two long braids, oiled and tied up with ribbons, making me stand out as an oddball. My girlfriends felt sorry for me, while the boys teased me about the way I looked, especially as the oil dripped onto my forehead and the back of my neck during hot summer days at school. Trying to take them out of the braids and doing up my hair in a more modern style ended in disaster and extensive punishment.1 Needless to say, disobeying my mother was scary for teenage Sherene.
Even though I had a charmed childhood in many ways, the scars left by my mother’s control hurt for many decades, well into my adulthood. Suffice it to say, I have struggled with the impulse to control my own children. I desperately needed not only control, but also validation of my parenting style. After all, if the world saw my children as wonderful, then that would reflect on me as well, wouldn’t it?
Thankfully, we serve a God who rescues us from ourselves and our pride. He has reparented me, helping me surrender control to him. If you find yourself battling the impulse to control your children the way I have, I pray that my story will remind you of God’s kindness in carrying our burdens, helping us surrender our children’s well-being to him.
Control in My Own Parenting
As a young mother, somewhere in the back of my head, I told myself I would never try to control my children’s lives the way that my mother had. I told myself I didn’t care what the world would think when they saw our family. The outward appearance did not matter to me, or at least that is what I preached to myself.
In reality, it pleased me tremendously to have others look at our family and compliment the children, as well as me. Both parents play an essential part in a child’s life, but often it’s mothers who receive credit for being the primary caretakers. I made sure my son attended math tutoring so he would be ahead of his grade level, and that he spent hours practicing the piano so he could someday become a concert pianist. I forced my daughter into modest outfits every time we visited India so that friends and family would accept us. Each of these parenting choices reflected an image I wanted to project.
The pressure of raising our children as immigrants played a massive part in my decisions. I wonder if I would have felt the same pressure had we lived in India.
Growing in Grace for My Parents
My parents were expatriates living in the Middle East, trying to raise their daughter in an Indian Christian home. They were surrounded by people from various cultures of India and beyond. They lived far away from their family, siblings, cousins, and grandparents. Still, there was a lot of pressure on them to ensure that they raised their daughter to reflect ideals and values from the South Indian Tamil Christian community. They felt they needed to make sure that when our family members and loved ones back in India saw me, they were presenting the best version of their daughter.
I can understand today how my young mother must have felt. She was far away from her support system and lacked mentors. Navigating parenting decisions can be complicated, and every family must find its rhythm. It is not a one-size-fits-all approach, although there are overarching values that we all need to remember as followers of Christ.
Now that many years have passed, many of these struggles are behind us. I’m able to view my parents from a more compassionate lens and realize that they did the best they could under the circumstances in which they lived.
The scars exist, and they hurt, rearing their ugly head now and then. During those moments of deep emotion, when I react with anger and frustration, I must remember to take these complicated emotions to the One who knows them—and me—best.
Surrendering to God and His Ways
God has been my faithful Father and guide during these hard seasons. Giving up control when we want our own way is hard. I have found myself seeking an alternative to the word “control.” I have tried everything, from masking my desire for control as healthy parenting, or finding ways to dress it up with religious terms.
But none of my efforts excused the ways I tried to control our children over the past 20 years of parenting, convincing myself that I was doing what was best for them because I thought I knew what was best for them.
Human beings are sinful, broken beings who need a Savior, and the only way I could relinquish the power my desire for control had over me was to learn the gift of surrender.
In her forthcoming book, The Freedom of Surrender, author Mary DeMuth writes, “To surrender is to let go of what we tightly grip, and that kind of purposeful releasing is the precursor to freedom. When we hold fast to control, things, people, outcome, fame, money, our way of doing things, or expectations, we don’t leave room for God to work in those areas. But when we surrender our stress and worry to Him, acknowledging that He is wiser and stronger than us, we are off the hook for fixing our lives. In that place of surrender, God does His best work. What better way to celebrate our beautiful Saviour by letting go of the things that have held us back from fully following Him?”
Learning to give up control in parenting was hard, but learning to give up control in my life and live with open arms of surrender was harder and yet more freeing than anything I have ever experienced.
2018 was a rough year for us as a family. Changing schools, academic expectations, navigating struggles at church, and wrestling with doubts (even while I was in seminary), all accumulated into a season of strife and anger. I felt exhausted trying to hold onto everything and working hard on perfection. I was tired of hiding my failures and struggles. It is not that I wanted to air all our dirty laundry, but I knew my pride and desire for control were so intertwined, and they were choking me. I was no longer delighting in my family and the life God had given me.
Through that painful season, I began to see that I no longer had to orchestrate my life or my children’s lives. I did not need to cling tightly to my human powers that are truly pitiful. I could step back, let go, and give God everything: my desires, hopes, dreams, pain, hurt, and longings. He had always been in control, and he would carry my yoke and my burdens for me. I found that he would truly give me peace. He is my greatest “need filler” and as I surrender every day, everything, I choose to move toward his hope, freedom, and peace.
Our Children’s Only Savior
Our need for control often stems from fear—fear that God really isn’t good and that he won’t come through, so if we let go, everything will fall apart. But then we see Jesus. His words on the cross, “it is finished,” were not only about paying for our sins, although he absolutely did that. Additionally, his words remind us that the entire burden of making life work can be removed from our shoulders. We don’t have to earn his approval or secure our family’s future. He gave his Son for us, and he will give us everything we need.
This reminds me that I can release my white-knuckled grip on life and stop trying to be the savior of my family. Jesus is our only Savior. I can choose peace over panic and love over fear. I rest in the knowledge that God is working all the time—even in my mistakes—for the good. This does not make me passive, but free. Free to trust God in every little detail and to make choices from a place of calm rest in him.
If you find yourself similarly struggling with control in your parenting, I want to remind you of the love of God in Christ, for you and for your children. You are loved and held securely. You can trust him with everything—even your children.
- I’ve shared this story in more detail in Rooted’s book, The Jesus I Wish I Knew in High School: Asian American Edition, ed. Kevin Yi, (New Growth Press). ↩︎
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