As parents in the 21st Century, we get bombarded from all sides on how to raise our kids: “Do this, don’t do that.” In the secular world, it’s often about the physical circumstances: make sure they have at least one sibling, but no more than two; make sure you live in a three-bedroom, two-bathroom house on a cul-de-sac, etc.

In Christian circles, there are other, often subtler lists of things to do: “Do make sure you pray with them every time you discipline.” “Don’t allow them to get away with disobedience. Ever.”

Although so many of these things are important and necessary for spiritual growth and godliness, I sometimes wonder, Who exactly is the Savior? Even in many Christian parenting books, there is a list of things that you, as a Christian parent, should do. Then there is a list of Bible promises for those who are faithful to their calling. And, although the gospel is there, it feels a lot like a list of rules to me: “Do this, don’t do that.”

Education Is Not the Savior

I am passionate about homeschooling. I was homeschooled, and I view it as one of the greatest gifts my parents gave to me. I loved it and do not have any complaints or regrets. I love teaching, and I am so excited about home­schooling my four children. As I begin the homeschooling journey with them, however, I have noticed a trend in the homeschool community that bothers me. It goes something like this: “Do this educating thing the right way, and you are guaranteed the results you want. Guaranteed a good relationship with your kids. Guaranteed to pass on your faith. Guaranteed that they will become successful adults.” This attitude is a flat-out lie. Homeschooling is not the Savior.

Homeschooling is not the sole culprit. There is this subtle “education-is-the-Savior” idea hidden behind any educational decision. Of course, education is an important part of our children’s lives. It’s an important part that we, as parents, have to decide for them for much of their lives. It’s a decision that we can and should feel strongly about. Often, though, a materialistic goal creeps in: “Let’s send our kids to this academically strong school so that…they can be really smart…they can get a good job…they can make a lot of money…they can be happy.” And I wonder: Who exactly is the Savior?

Are We Perfected by the Flesh?

As a mom, I want to do my best. I understand the tremendous influence I have on these little lives. So, I give myself almost no grace. By the end of every day, there is something I could have done better or differently. My life could become a big, long list of “if onlys.” When I sin—which I do, every day—I beat myself up over it: “I should have been a better example.” “How are my kids ever going to get it right when I can’t even model it correctly?” I act as if I have been saved by grace yet have to be a good mom on my own.

Didn’t Paul address this attitude in Galatians 3: “O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you?…Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?” I used to think this chapter was only referencing Jews who were returning to the ceremonial law to be saved. Now I realize it is equally applicable to any method, any works, that we use in an attempt to save ourselves.

Salvation Then and Now

Growing up in a Christian home, I never questioned that I was saved by grace through faith. However, there were certain things that I thought sheer hard work would achieve. A good marriage was, I thought, based on how good a spouse you were. A good mom, I thought, would be measured by…well, by how good a mom you were. And the results would be straightforward, right? Be a good mom and raise godly children, and you will be friends with them throughout life. Be a bad mom, and your kids will walk away from the faith and away from you.

Lessons from Ketchup

There are many, many things from my childhood I have forgotten. However, some moments stand out clearly. I remember the time I dropped the ketchup bottle on my grandma’s porch steps on our way to Sunday morning church. I’m assuming, based on my mom’s reaction, that the bottle did not remain intact. But I have no memory of the mess. However, what I do remember crystal clearly is my mom coming to me afterwards and apologizing for her response.

In my own experience as a mom, confessing my sin to my children is one of the most beautiful things. In that act, I am free to admit I failed. I am free to acknowledge the depths of my inability to save myself or them. I can point them to my Savior and press upon them the utmost importance of them taking Him as their Savior, too. In my Savior’s eyes, I am precious. I am perfect and complete, lacking nothing, because He already perfectly obeyed for me.

Self-Sufficiency

I think one of my biggest idols is self-sufficiency. I want to know that I’ve got this. One of my biggest frustrations is when I know that I’m sinning. “I know better!” I think. Part of these desires is good: I should long for holiness, and I should be dissatisfied with sin in my life.

But what am I teaching my children? “Be like me—perfect all the time.” “Make sure that you blame any sins on your physical circumstances or all the annoying people around you.” Really? My kids are with me so much of the time, there is no fooling them. They probably know my sins even better than I do.

What if, instead of me focusing on being the perfect example, I spent more time pointing my children to Christ? Robert Murray McCheyne famously said, “For every look at yourself, take ten looks at Christ.” Am I doing that with my children? I need to allow them to see my faults, which are forgiven, redeemed, and transformed by the blood of Christ. They need to see the work of Christ in my life. Do I let them in on the struggle? Or do I pretend I’m always right? I must commit to teaching my children from an early age what it looks like to walk in step with the Spirit.

My oldest son is very sensitive, and he is quick to pick up on my emotions. When I am frustrated/sinning, he often says, “Mommy, why are you being like that?” My initial reaction is to blame someone else. And the excuses are readily available: because you are sinning, or, because the baby woke me up during the night. Yet how much more beautiful would it be if I said, “You’re right. I am sinning, and I am sorry. I need Jesus to save me. Will you pray for me?”

Preach the Gospel to Yourself Every Day

A very important aspect of the gospel is how it impacts our everyday life. “Jesus died to save me from my sins” is not a one-time event. This is every day. Every sin is covered. But how is this put into practice in our lives as parents? Here’s an example: My toddler wakes me up at 2 a.m. I am angry. How does the perfect righteousness and blood of Christ help me in that moment? The anger can quickly breed more anger: “You woke me up in the middle of the night, and now I’m sinning!” First, take a step back. Remember that the sin of being angry has already been covered by Christ’s perfect righteousness. He already paid the penalty. I am already forgiven. I don’t have to keep on sinning. Christ has already obeyed perfectly for me. Now I can go and live in that obedience. I don’t have to blame my toddler for my sin. I am forgiven and free—free to obey, free to move past the anger, free to love.

In all my life as a parent, I am free to obey, knowing that God blesses those who serve Him and trust Him. Each day, I am free to rediscover with my children the grace and forgiveness that only comes from having Jesus as my Savior. I can imperfectly parent with the knowledge that God saves, not me. Knowing that He is my Lord, and, no matter what He chooses to do with my precious children, I can trust Him. I (and my children) are saved by grace. By Jesus. Because He is exactly the Savior that we all need.

Vanessa Le is wife to John and mom to Jaden (5), Thomas (4), Susannah (2-1/2), and Bryson (1). When she’s not changing diapers or kissing boo-boos, she enjoys reading, playing the piano, studying theology, and just generally being Mommy. They are members of Orlando, Fla., RPC.