Here’s the problem: I want to be a Supermom. And if I can’t be a Supermom, I at least want to be perceived as a Supermom. We probably all have our own ideals of that a Supermom would be, and here’s mine: Supermoms always love being a mom. Their kids reach all the developmental milestones at least a month early, due to their Supermom’s diligence. Their kids are well-behaved, polite, and carry on intelligent conversation with adults in public. If a child does throw a tantrum or act up (hey, she might be a Supermom, but no one is perfect!), the Supermom calmly and quickly diffuses the tantrum without giving into the child. The Supermom never loses her cool and would never yell at her child. Supermoms are dressed well, complete with a shower (that same day), make-up, lip gloss, and earrings. Their kids look adorable and never have dried, crusty food on their faces or boogers hanging out of their nose. (My friends are laughing right now, because they’ve been waiting for me to mention the boogers.) Supermoms arrive on time with Purell, snacks, and interesting toys ready at all times, and they never run out of baby wipes.
Am I a Supermom? Heck, no. But every ounce of my flesh (that is, my sinful nature) wants to at least have everyone think that I am. We see other women who look like Supermoms, so we try to keep up, being careful to only let others in far enough that they never see us lose our cool or see our kids with boogers coming out of their nose (or worse, throw a huge tantrum with boogers all over their face!). And then the Supermom myth is perpetuated as long as we can keep up the facade at least most of the time.
It is refreshing to me to see women in my church family who are willing to be seen for what we all really are: messed-up, sinful, struggling moms who don’t always know what we should do for our kids and often do all the wrong things. And I’m learning that the key to this kind of genuineness is the Gospel: that I am a sinner, separated from God by my sin and unable to anything to save myself or earn my favor, but that God, in His mercy and grace, sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to die on the cross for that sin, reconciling me to God, making me righteous in God’s sight, and adopting me as a daughter of God. God takes Jesus’ perfect record and gives it to me, and therefore, I receive God’s grace–His unmerited favor–not because of anything I do, but solely because of what Christ has done.
So the truth is, I stink at being a mom. I mess up every day, I yell at my kids, I run out of wipes, and I feel so incompetent and know that if they actually gave all moms a test before letting them take their baby home from the hospital, I would have failed miserably. But if I let other people in, let them really see the mess that is there, it will point me (and hopefully others) to my need for Christ. If I could live a perfect life, I wouldn’t need a Savior. If I could handle my life on my own strength, I wouldn’t need to be sustained by the Holy Spirit, the promises of God’s Word, and fellowship with other Christians. So this is my confession: I am not a Supermom. I can’t achieve salvation on my own, I can’t parent my kids on my own, and I definitely can’t love my husband on my own (but that’s a story for another blog). I need Jesus.
Ephesians 2:8-9: For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.Share