I just had a serious talk with my two-year-old as she bounced on a red rubber donkey wearing an inflatable crown. We talked about all the reasons you shouldn’t play with the potty seat. Then she bounced around in circles until she fell off of the donkey. She giggled the way only two-year-olds giggle and I went back to reading my Bible.

When I received my college degree, I never envisioned the good use I would put it to this morning: explaining to a toddler why you can’t play with the potty seat.

Isn’t that the way we think about mothering little ones sometimes? We stack up all our worldly credentials against motherhood and conclude that the work is beneath us. Aren’t we capable of so much more than scrubbing dried oatmeal out of the creases in the highchair?

I know what it’s like to go about my humble tasks with a heart full of pride. I wear a long face and use a solemn voice to talk about my dreadfully sacred calling. I’m still not over myself. It’s hard to be humble when I feel over-qualified for the tasks that greet me each morning.

Sure, putting socks on a toddler doesn’t require a formal education. But while we’re all caught up in ourselves, we miss that we are failing this test of faithfulness. Can you be joyful when you’ve put her socks on five times today already? Can you suffer long and be kind when she kicks them back off? The sock test is not as easy at it first appears.

The words of the ancient hymn are familiar, but this lesson is hard to learn.

“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Phil. 2:3-4).

Pride rages in our hearts when we demand our own way. When we crave a certain kind of stimulation, like a cup of hot coffee and an uninterrupted conversation with a good friend. When we demand that we have two minutes to ourselves to browse our favorite social media site.

Humility is when you stop half way through the orange you’re peeling because someone needs to be disciplined. It’s when you decide that dinner will be late because someone needs encouragement. It’s when you don’t get to drink your coffee while it was still hot because someone needs tickled.

The question our hearts face each day is: “Who is more significant?” Pride screams: “I need this! I have to finish this! I can’t be late!” And humility answers: “Others.”

Taking a posture of humility when faced with the demands of other people requires that we look to Jesus Christ on the cross. There we see our Savior who suffered for the sake of others with his eye set on the joy before him. Jesus was the only one who didn’t demand, “Me first!” Jesus never pouted and sulked about how humble his work was. Hebrews 12:2 tells us that it was for joy that Jesus endured the cross.

Our work is a gift. God prepared the play-doh for you to scrape out of the carpet. It is a good work for you to walk in for your children’s sake. The reward for working heartily unto the Lord is not just a clean carpet—it’s an eternal inheritance.

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ” (Col. 3:23-24).

The humble work of mothering young children is not one of gloom. We are on the path to joy forever. When we finally got the kids in bed and one of them cries for us, we see the joy set before us, and we humbly sacrifice our time and energy again. We reflect our Savior. And look forward to our eternal inheritance—God himself.


This post was originally posted at Domestic Kingdom. Since then the editor, Gloria Furman, has moved her blogging and passion for the Gospel to


3 Responses to The Happy, Humble Work of a Mother

  1. A friend, from KY, linked this post up on Facebook. I read it, loved it, and then realized you live where I do! My husband is the youth pastor at Grace Community Church in North Liberty. What a weird, small world. I feel like I should know you, but somehow don’t. This may sound creepy-I PROMISE, I’m not creepy- but I’d love to meet up with you in real life.

  2. Krystle says:

    Thanks for writing this! I can relate with all of it. 🙂

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