Introduction: Spilled Juice and Self-Reflection
It happened on a Sunday morning as we rushed to get out the door for church. My young daughter knocked over her cup of juice, and in an instant my neat kitchen and perfect schedule were ruined. Irritation rose up in me. As I saw her eyes meet mine, conviction hit me. Why was I so upset about a simple spill? At that moment, I realized something humbling: my reaction wasn’t really about the juice. It was about my desire for control—control of messes, control of schedules, maybe even control of life itself. I had treated my daughter as if her childish mishaps were personal offenses or obstacles to my plans. This wasn’t the grace-filled discipleship God calls me to as a Christian parent; it was something else entirely. It was an uncomfortable reminder of how I struggle to surrender control and trust God in my parenting.
The Urge to Control
What did this incident reveal about my heart? Simply put, I desire control. I want a clean house, a timely departure, and a smooth day with no surprises. On the surface, it seems I’m just trying to keep things orderly for our family’s good. But if I’m honest, my preoccupation with cleanliness, punctuality, and order often masks a deeper issue: I want to control things in my child’s life so that my life feels in control. I’ve heard it said that the desire to control is really a delusion—rooted in pride and fear—and it ultimately leads to stress, anxiety, and frustration. That rings true. My pride says, “I know best and things must go my way,” and my fear whispers, “If I don’t manage every detail, something will go wrong.” So I clamp down, trying to direct how every little thing turns out, believing that will make our lives better. Of course, the result is the opposite: more tension and less joy in our home.
In my heart, I know I don’t actually have absolute control over my child’s life (or anything else, for that matter). “Of course God is in control, not me,” I tell myself. Yet my frantic reactions to spilled juice and delayed car rides tell another story. Deep down, I’m trying to control outcomes: I want a guarantee that she’ll turn out “right” and that I won’t be inconvenienced or embarrassed along the way. It’s sobering to realize that this mindset treats my daughter not as the beloved little person she is, but as a project (even an object) to be managed.
From Discipleship to Domination: Recognizing the Shift
How can I tell when I’ve crossed the line from godly discipleship into controlling behavior? For me, the shift is usually marked by a change in my attitude and methods. Godly parenting—discipleship—looks like patient instruction, loving correction, and guiding my child’s heart toward what is right. It’s motivated by love for my child and love for God’s ways. Control, on the other hand, often comes with impatience, anger, and a self-centered motive (my convenience or pride). I’ve slipped into controlling mode when I start reacting out of irritation or fear rather than responding with understanding and grace. For example, spilling juice is a minor, everyday accident—a teachable moment. If I react as though it’s a personal offense, that’s a red flag. I’m no longer correcting misbehavior for her sake; I’m venting my frustration for my sake. In those moments I’m more concerned with the mess on the floor (and the disruption of my plan) than with my child’s heart.
Ephesians 6:4 and Colossians 3:21 warn fathers (and by extension, mothers) not to exasperate or provoke our children, lest they become discouraged. If I parent with a controlling spirit, my daughter will feel defeated rather than shepherded. I never want to “provoke [my] child to anger” or dishearten her through harsh control (Col. 3:21). Godly discipleship, in contrast, will still involve setting boundaries and enforcing rules, but it does so with a spirit of gentleness and a desire to build up our children.
Here is a helpful question I once heard from a wise saint: “If your children had only your example to follow, how would they behave? Would they be gracious and kind when annoyances come along, or would they throw tantrums?” Ouch. That question forced me to take an honest look at myself. What was I modeling in those spill-and-delay moments? I saw that I was modeling impatience, perfectionism, and a lack of grace—a tantrum of my own! Moving from discipleship to control had made me into the kind of example I did not want my daughter to emulate. Recognizing this shift started with acknowledging my sinful reactions. I had to admit that sometimes my “discipline” was really about me—my pride, my convenience, my image—rather than about lovingly training my child in the Lord’s ways.
Entrusting My Child to God
Stung by these realizations, I knew I needed to change. But it wasn’t enough to simply vow to “be less controlling.” Thankfully, God’s Word has a way of cutting to the heart of the issue and offering a better way. Three passages of Scripture were particularly helpful in transforming my heart.
First, in Deuteronomy 6:6–7, God commands his people:
And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. (Deut. 6:6–7)
God is calling me to consistent, grace-filled discipleship with my daughter, not a regime of tight control. This passage paints a picture of steady, patient instruction, woven into the fabric of everyday life. It’s about keeping God’s Word in my heart first and then imparting it to my child through ongoing conversation and example. This is really the primary job God has given to parents: not to manage every detail of our kids’ lives, but to faithfully teach them who God is and what he says.
Practically, this meant that instead of feeling frustration at my daughter for spilling something or slowing us down, I could start seeing those moments as gospel opportunities. A spilled cup can become a lesson in patience, forgiveness, or responsibility—spoken and shown gently. Running late can become an opportunity to pray together for peace under pressure or to model humility by apologizing if my own poor planning caused the rush. In other words, each disruption is no longer a threat to my control; it’s a chance to diligently teach and disciple. This approach doesn’t mean there are no consequences or corrections for genuine disobedience; rather, even correction is done with the goal of heart change and growth.
Second, I began clinging to God’s promise that his Word, faithfully planted, will bear fruit in his time. Isaiah 55:11 reassures us that God’s Word “will not return to [him] empty, but will accomplish what [he] desires and achieve the purpose for which [he] sent it.” What a relief! It’s God who ultimately brings about growth and change in my child’s heart. My responsibility is to consistently sow the seeds of truth (through Scripture, prayer, and Christlike love in our home) and to nurture her as she grows. But I can surrender the outcome to God. I can trust that even when I don’t see instant results, God is at work behind the scenes. Every Bible verse we read at bedtime, every prayer we whisper together, every act of forgiveness or patience, is a seed being sown.
Third, Scripture reminds me that my child ultimately belongs to God, not to me. Psalm 127:3 proclaims that children are a heritage and reward from the Lord, and indeed I now see that my daughter is God’s gift entrusted to me for a season. I am her parent, but I am not her owner. In fact, as Dr. R. Scott Rodin put it, “As parents, we must be reminded daily that our children don’t belong to us, they belong to God. They are His. God gives us temporary stewardship of their lives, but never ownership.” I had been acting like an owner, as if my child’s behavior and fate were solely mine to control. But in truth, God is the one who formed her, knows her completely, and has a purpose for her life. He has entrusted her to me to steward—to care for, nurture, and guide—but ultimately, she is his child. My authority as a parent is therefore not absolute; it’s a delegated authority, meant to be exercised under God’s leadership and wisdom.
It has become a regular prayer of mine to hand my child back to God. Each day I have to consciously give my daughter into the Lord’s hands. When I do that, my parenting stops being about fear and starts being about faith. Instead of asking, “How can I make sure she never messes up?” I start asking, “How can I be faithful today in pointing her to Jesus?”
Freedom and Grace in Letting Go
I am still very much a work in progress, but the changes in our home have been palpable. The more I release my grip, the more I find that parenting can actually be joyful.
I no longer see my daughter as a “nuisance” when she throws a wrench in my plans; I see her as the precious gift she truly is. Yes, she will still spill juice on the carpet sometimes, and I will still be tempted to fret. But now I remind myself: this little girl is a treasure from the Lord, not an inconvenience. God entrusted her to me on purpose, knowing both her weaknesses and mine, and his grace is sufficient for us. He is using even spilled juice and running late to refine me as much as to teach her. When I look at her through God’s eyes, I see a beloved child who is “fearfully and wonderfully made” and in need of the same grace and patience that I receive from my Heavenly Father daily.
Fellow parent, if you find yourself where I was—frustrated, controlling, and exhausted—take heart. There is a better way. It starts with surrender. We have to loosen our grip on our kids and place them back into God’s hands where they belong. Deuteronomy 6:6–7 gives us our commission: to love God wholeheartedly and impress his truths on our children day by day. The results of that we joyfully leave to him.
There is great hope and freedom in this approach. When I entrust my daughter to God, the power struggles diminish, the anxiety fades, and what remains is the sweet task of guiding a soul, hand in hand with Jesus. Let’s lay down the burden of control and take up the mantle of grace-filled discipleship. As we do, we can trust that the same God who is faithful in our lives will be faithful in the lives of our children—accomplishing his good purposes in them, one day and one spill at a time.
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