This post originally appeared on the John and Charles Wesley Center for Christian Thought and Apologetics as part of a column called The Doorposts. You can visit the original here.

What is Crisis Mode?

Crisis mode. Those seasons in which you can’t possibly see enough to plan ahead at all—not even to Friday. Those days in which you are struggling to make it to bedtime. Those times when life gets crazy and the kids end up watching way too much TV and consuming way too much fast food. The times when you don’t have the mental bandwidth for a conversation.

We’ve all been there. Sometimes, it’s when you’re adding a new baby to the family. Or when your parent is sick and you’re spending your mental strength getting them and yourself through that. Maybe you moved and your feet aren’t quite under you yet. You’re in crisis mode. You’re just trying to get by each day. You just need to eek into tomorrow. 

There are times when, really and truly, that is all we can do. We can only do this moment and simply cannot think past it. We lean into Jesus, and we just hang on as we pummel to the bottom of the valley. 

Stopping the Cycle of Crisis Mode

But crisis mode doesn’t last forever. Yet, for far too many Christian parents, we spend the majority of our children’s lives parenting in crisis mode. We never get our feet under us. We never see beyond this moment. We certainly don’t plan for the future. Our entire parenting life is spent just trying to eek into tomorrow. We make decisions that aren’t for the long-term good of our family. 

The thief would like for us to continue that way. He’d love nothing more than to steal your joy, intentionality, and love for your family. Our adversary would love nothing more than to destroy any hopes for discipleship and community within the family (and the Family of God). He’d love for you to stay so busy and so tired that you cannot possibly see a way out of this moment right now.

But Jesus has bigger plans for us. Jesus wants us to have abundant life. He wants us to thrive, not just eek by. 

Practical Helps on Getting Out of Crisis Mode

So how do we get there? How do we get out of the cycle of crisis mode? Can we get beyond this moment? How can we reclaim what the thief is trying to steal from our family? 

First, we pray. Often, when we say we’re holding onto Jesus, we’re just holding onto some vague idea of hope. We aren’t actually praying. We aren’t actually reading the Bible. We aren’t actually availing ourselves to His grace in our lives. We’re holding onto the idea that Jesus will be like a fairy godmother and sweep into our mess at some point and just bippity-boppity-boop it all okay. We aren’t truly asking Him to step in; we’re just holding out a weak hope that perhaps He will. Faith is bigger than that, Fam. Jesus is more than that. He is our hope for the future but also our hope for today, for this moment, for this situation.

Pulling Away in Crisis Mode

We pull away from His people, where He works. We pull away from the hands and feet He sends. Waiting around for that magic wand to turn our pumpkin into a carriage. Stop vaguely hoping and find a hope that is deep, real, and lasting. Pray. Seek Him. Give Him your cares in prayer. If your faith is floundering, I suggest keeping a prayer journal so you can watch God at work. Write down the date and your specific requests. Leave some room for the answers. When a prayer is answered, write down the answer and that date. You’ll be surprised at how much and how quickly God often works. We tend to forget. Our vision is short-sighted. We forget we were even praying about the kid’s cough last week because that is gone now, so now, we’re praying for something else which we too will probably forget. But God is faithful, even if our memories are not.

Don’t pull away; lean in. Often in times of crisis (which we’ve established is just a way of life for some of us), we pull away from the Church. We pull away from our friends. We don’t share our burdens with them. We don’t want people to know our struggles, and we certainly don’t want them to help. The thief likes this about us. Isolated people are easier to tempt. Isolated people tend to magnify their own problems. Isolated people are easier to destroy. Don’t pull away from the grace God gives us. He gave us one another. He works through His people. Stay with His people. Let them help lighten your burden. Let them help bring some perspective to your situation. 

Spiritual Disciplines

We tend to pull away from spiritual discipline. We become too busy and too burdened for that “just one more thing”. So, we stop reading our Bible. We stop fasting. We stop feasting. We stop worshipping. We stop listening. We just stop. Shutting out the voice of God doesn’t make the thief’s voice quieter—it amplifies it. Shutting out the voice of God isn’t going to alleviate your burdens—it is only going to make them heavier and make you weaker while trying to carry them. Don’t pull away. 

Sorting Out Priorities

Next, we sort our priorities now. Today. We don’t wait for things to get easier. We don’t wait for things to get lighter. We choose today whom we will serve (Joshua 24:14-15). So, whom do you really serve? Many of us live our lives to serve ourselves. We want to say we are Christian families, but if we look at our priorities, it is clear we are serving the great American god of Self.

How do you know your true priorities and not just the “look good on paper” versions? Look at your calendar. Where is the most time spent? Where is the best time spent? Where is the first time spent? Which parts are written in pen and which in pencil? (Metaphorically, of course; I know some parts might actually be written in crayon.) Look at your checkbook. Where is the most money spent? Where is the first money spent? What parts of the budget are non-negotiable?

If you’re like most American families (even professing-Christian ones), you might be surprised to see that your serving children’s sports and activities above all else. You might find that your entertainment and “me” time have become those non-negotiable, written-in-pen activities. You may find that, while you say you’re a Christian family, nothing about your calendar or bank account will verify that claim. You may find that you’re [actually only just] trying to “squeeze in” those religious things to appease that part of your brain saying, “I’m not doing this life-thing right.” 

Packing in Too Much

We find ourselves living in crisis mode outside of a crisis because we’re devoting ourselves to the wrong things and to too many things all at once. When we choose a child’s sport activity before worship, what we say with our actions is that faith isn’t as important. When we find ourselves choosing personal entertainment over family dinner, what we say with our actions is that I’m more important than the family. (And I’m talking about consistently choosing, not a once-in-a-while thing.) Are we teaching our children that my personal comfort and temporary amusement is more important than Jesus? …than them? 

Evaluate Real vs. Ideal Priorities

Take a long, hard, critical look at your priorities. Pause everything else for as long as you need in order to get first things first. Take a family break from everything that isn’t top-billing. This will help you actually start living the life you intend to be living. It will get you out of crisis mode and just eeking by. 

Those things on pause—don’t add those things back in without thinking through what you’re giving up to have them in your life. Every ‘yes’ also comes with a ‘no’. Be aware of that so you can say ‘yes’ wholeheartedly, with intentionality, and say ‘no’ without guilt.

When you are in actual crisis, go back to these priorities. Start saying ‘no’ to the extras more so you can still live with intentionality and not be crushed under the current burden. (Also, let others help you carry the load.) Live life intentionally. Raise your kids intentionally. Don’t just run from one crisis to the next. When you are in crisis, know which things are immovable and which things are extras. Jesus wants your family to have abundant life. The thief wants to steal your hope, joy, and family. The thief wants to bury you. Don’t help him.

Other Notes From the Parsonage Posts You Might Like

• Word Before World
• Faith and Action
• Dear New Mom

Things I Have To Say

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The post Get Out of Crisis Mode appeared first on Notes From the Parsonage.

And right on schedule, as I dove into lifespan development for the third time (I’ve had lifespan development classes before from other perspectives), I was ready to feel bad about the stress I am putting my family under right now. At first, I got that— the guilt. Infants rely on the steady care of a single caregiver and are upset when that is disrupted. Sorry Daisy. Preschoolers need adequate scaffolding to help them acquire new and deeper skills. Sorry Pippin, can’t scaffold for you, Mama’s got to write a paper about it instead. School aged children need security and patience with close monitoring as they learn new skills and begin to see themselves as others see them. Sorry Topher and Ransom, I don’t have time to monitor your mud pit fun, I’ve got papers to write. You get the idea. Everything is a slap in the face when you feel like you’re messing everything up— especially when you’re a mom of seven in school full time.

Then I came across the work of Donald Winnicott. He was an English pediatrician and psychoanalyst who voiced the idea of the “good enough” parent. I’m going to be grossly simplifying his work and pretty much just talking about a singular aspect. I’m imagining that if you were especially fond of psychoanalytic theory of infant development, you’d likely be taking the class I’m taking or reading a much longer book about the topic. (And just as a point of interest, the class ended up being extremely interesting and insightful. I feel like I only scratched the surface and would need another year to follow all the little rabbit trails my brain made.) For Winnicott, children didn’t need perfect parents. Children needed someone they could count on, but that someone didn’t have to be perfect all the time, they just had to be good enough. They just had to show up, love the kid, and do their best. Winnicott said that was the best kind of parent.

In today’s “perfect parenting” world, where parents feel judged every time they turn around, a world where parents spend so much time comparing their own parenting (and life) to what they see on Instagram, it is a breath of fresh air to read an expert tell us we only need to be “good enough”. The idea that everything bad that happens to our kid will be our fault is never flipped. If I’m responsible for all wrong roads my child may take, I’m also responsible for the right ones. And really, according to Winnicott, if I show up and do my best, my kids will turn out fine. Winnicott realized something our society won’t mention. Moms are people. They come with their own burdens, insecurities, and issues. Learning to be there for a child while still being a real person isn’t the easiest task for some people. And if you’re showing up, trying your best, and meeting the kid’s needs most of the time— you’re doing a good enough job of it. Not all of us can be Instagram perfect. We can’t have the perfect house with everything in various shades of white and grey. (How do you people keep white couches clean with kids?!) We can’t all be stay at home moms with endless budgets for all the kids enrichment activities and the “right” toys, clothes, and baby gear. We can’t all have all organic everything from the local farmer’s market. Life is messy. Life isn’t always ideal. The good news, according to Winnicott, is that we don’t need all those things. We need to pay attention most of the time. We need to provide security most of the time. We need need to learn to sacrifice, but it is okay for life to not be all sacrifice. We won’t get the mothering thing right every single time. The good enough mom knows this and can give herself some grace, learn from her mistakes, and move on. 

So if I have to delegate some schooling tasks to Dad for the next year, that is okay. If afternoon reading time has to be audible books, that is okay. If my cooking slips to eating PB&J a little too often, they will survive. If I’m not sewing them cute clothes and instead slipping them into hand-me-downs, I doubt they’ll notice. I’m here. I’m doing my best. The kids will be alright, I’m good enough. 

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Dear New Mom,

You approached me at the Diner today to tell me how you aspire to be just like me. While I appreciate the ego boost, let me tell you, it just won’t work. You’ll be a better mom than me to your child. Because you are the perfect mom for that little girl you were toting around so proudly.

I know, right now, you’re finding your way in Mommyland, and it seems like everyone else has their act together, but we are really all just finding our way, too. I know, I looked like I had it under control.

My kids were all freakishly behaving today. They were happy because they chose the restaurant, they don’t always get such a big privilege. They were all happy with their menu choices. Some days, the toddler orders PB&J, then realizes when the food gets out that while he said “pee-bu jewee” he meant “corn dawg”. They happen to adore the huge coloring pages at the Diner, other restaurants have colored menus that don’t allow for such vast creativity, and they throw them to the floor much quicker and opt for tossing silverware around.

I do not always look so put together. I just recently updated my wardrobe from yoga pants and oversized tees into something just as comfy, but far more presentable. (yay!  Old Navy yoga skirts!)  I don’t always multi-task with such finesse. Really. I don’t always order so healthy. Really.

See, you saw one meal and assumed I was Mom of the year. And I am not. I struggle just like you. Walk into The Parsonage, you’ll see that I am far from perfect.

And I don’t want you to think you aren’t awesome. You are. You’re Mom of The Year to the one that matters – your kid. To her, you are the world, and there is no better Mom to her than you.

So, even though you may look around and think every other Mom is doing better than you, it isn’t true. We’re all alike. We are just trying to do the best for our kids, our families. And we’re all unalike. We do this mom thing in our own way.

You’ll find your groove (then you’ll have #2 and you’ll be back to trying to figure the whole thing out again, or your daughter will hit the next phase of her life, leaving you to adjust to her new needs). Just know, you are an awesome Mom. No need to compare yourself to anyone else. You rock.

Lindsey, The Mom of the Four Kids At The Next Table

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