Stop Striving. Start Abiding.

One of the great challenges for modern mothers is that we forget our work is spiritual.

We schedule it. We optimize it. We manage it. We compare it.
But we rarely remember that it is sacred.

Somehow, we have absorbed the idea that “real” spiritual work happens in Bible studies, ministries, conferences, or outreach — while the laundry, the dishes, the diapers, the endless organizing feel merely practical. Yet Scripture does not divide life that way. Jesus says, “Abide in Me… apart from Me you can do nothing” (John 15:4–5).

Nothing includes the mundane.

Motherhood is not a pause in spiritual life. It is one of its primary classrooms.

In this season, after cutting back activities that were not bringing our family peace, I have begun to see fruit from years of subconsciously choosing to treat ordinary tasks as worship.

That clarity did not come easily.

In 2024–2025, my husband was deployed to an embassy in Bangladesh. For a full year, I carried everything — the home, the school, the decisions, the emotional weight of our days. I did what needed to be done. And by God’s grace, we made it through.

But when he came home, something in me did not immediately release.

I continued operating at the same pace I had learned in his absence. Even with help, I held tightly to control.

I filled our days. I maintained the systems. I kept rowing.

By the time Christmas came, I realized something sobering: I was still operating in the red.

The joy had thinned.
My children felt strained.
Correction had become constant.

I was not doing bad things.

I was doing too much, without margin to abide.

Folding laundry becomes an act of love. Organizing crafts, yet again, becomes a service to the next small hands that will use them. Resetting a messy room becomes preparation for hospitality within my own walls.

Even tidiness can be misjudged. We often contrast Martha and Mary as if activity itself is the problem. But activity is not the enemy — anxiety and self-importance are (Luke 10:38–42). Being orderly is not the same as being Martha. It can be Mary-like if the heart is positioned in love and attentiveness to Christ.

And that is the difference.

Your heart cannot remain positioned in love if you are not abiding in Christ (John 15:4–5) and renewing your mind with truth (Romans 12:2). You can clean with resentment. You can organize with comparison. You can serve while silently striving for approval.

Striving crowds the boat.

In John 6, the disciples were rowing hard against the wind before they welcomed Jesus into the boat (John 6:16–21). How often do we do the same? We fill our schedules, accept invitations, overcommit to activities — and then wonder why peace feels distant. Sometimes the very activity we justify as “good” is what prevents us from letting Jesus in.

When we strive for approval — from other mothers, from church culture, even from ourselves — Christ cannot fit into our self-sufficiency. He does not compete with frantic effort.

He enters the surrendered space.

This is why it is crucial that mothers learn to abide in the dirty-laundry, dirty-dishes, dirty-diaper phase. If we cannot practice abiding in hidden exhaustion, we will struggle to abide when the challenges shift. Because they will shift.

Today it is physical depletion.
Tomorrow it will be teenage moods that test your patience.
Today it is managing naps.
Tomorrow, it will be discerning friendships, guiding middle school decisions, and navigating independence.

You cannot systematize your way into peace.
You cannot supplement your way into spiritual steadiness.
You cannot organize your home so perfectly that your heart remains untested.

Peace is not produced by efficiency.
It is produced by presence.

Jesus wants to be present in your exhaustion. He wants to meet you in your depletion. But He does not force Himself into a heart determined to manage alone.

Abiding now is preparation for later.

If Christ is welcomed into your boat in the mundane season, He will already be there when the waters grow deeper. The habits of surrender you build while folding towels will sustain you when you are counseling a teenager. The reflex to return to Him in small irritations will steady you in larger storms.

Motherhood is spiritual work. The mundane is not a distraction from holiness — it is the place holiness is formed.

Stop striving.
Start abiding.
Let Him into the boat.