He Is the Bread of Life

What if he never has a meaningful friendship? The question rolled my heart thin as the reality of my son’s disability took root. To me, the mark of a good life was one full of rich, deep, meaningful relationships. My heart ached for what might never be for my red-headed, curly-topped son.

It’s not just the big questions, though, that are woven into the fabric of motherhood. It’s also the simple, everyday questions. Are they eating enough healthy food? Am I attuned to their emotional needs? Am I giving them enough of my time? Am I modeling a meaningful faith for them?

These questions are good, even necessary, to ask. If not, our parenting may bend and flex to circumstances rather than being anchored in truth and faith. But sometimes those questions twist our good intentions to anxiety-producing what-ifs. Some nights I toss and turn these questions, feeling the answer blanket my heart: my shortcomings could be my kids’ undoing. I let them eat too much junk food. I didn’t really listen to my son today when he was trying to tell me how he felt. I yelled too much to break up the maddening sibling squabbles. I brushed off my daughter’s request to snuggle because of looming deadlines. Have I asked my kiddos how I can pray for them? What happens if I don’t start doing better, doing more as their mom?

In The Greatest Gift, Ann Voskamp holds a mirror up to my anxieties: “Worry is belief gone wrong. Because you don’t believe that God will get it right.” Despite my best intentions, I know that I am not enough for my children, and that is the seed of worry. How can anything good come out of my shortcomings as a mom? How can I believe that God will get things right for my family? When my belief is rooted in me and what I can do, I’m apt to forget the goodness and trustworthiness of the One who is capable of so much more.

In John 6:35, Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” In this, I see God’s provision. Jesus is my manna. He nourishes my being. In my never-enough, Jesus invites me into his abundant more-than-enough, his bread-of-life enough.

Those listening to Jesus found his words hard to swallow, as if they were choking on stale breadcrumbs instead of consuming the life-giving bread of Christ. “On hearing [he was the bread of life], many of his disciples said, ‘This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?’” (John 6:60). On those harder parenting days, I find myself with similar thoughts. This is too hard. I can’t do this. How can I keep on doing this when I’m met with disappointment and frustration and failure seemingly around every corner? The problem is perspective—focusing on me, my efforts, and my own understanding, much like those listening to Jesus in John 6. Jesus keeps pointing them—and us—back to him: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven” (John 6:51).

After the crowds and the Jews in the synagogues turned away from him, Jesus turned to his disciples: “You do not want to leave too, do you?” (John 6:67). Jesus pointed straight to their hearts, just as he points to ours. We can choose to stay connected to Jesus, who will sustain us in our present circumstances, or we can choose our own way, disconnected from him as the source of life.

To Jesus’ question, Peter responded, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68–69). I affirm with Peter that only in intertwining my life with Christ’s can I find peace and courage within my soul. So, I come. With all my questions and uncertainties. With all my fears and anxieties about my children, their health and well-being, their friendships, and their futures. With all my weaknesses and failures and questions, I say, Jesus, I “have learned to believe and trust . . . that You are the Holy One of God, the Christ (the Anointed One), the Son of the living God” (John 6:68–69).

In God’s holy, life-giving love, he takes regular, flawed women and strengthens our hands and hearts for mothering. Our failures and our not-enough remind us to come to him. When we do, we will find kindness, goodness, love, and mercy for us and for our children.

Because Jesus is both the provider and the provision, I turn my questions to him. How does Christ’s presence within me change the way I listen to my children? How does Christ’s willingness to suffer and sacrifice influence my patience as I help my kids navigate their relationships? How does Jesus’ love for others enable me to love my kids in a way that’s meaningful to them? What happens if, instead of relying only on myself, I draw my strength and wisdom from Christ as the One who can do immeasurably more than I ever dare dream or imagine in my kids’ lives?

What about you? Can you uncurl your fingers from all the anxiety-ridden what-ifs to embrace Jesus? My prayer is that you can see motherhood as an invitation to draw close to the kind, loving heart of Christ, who is the bread of life, and to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that a good, meaningful life—for you and your children—is one wrapped up in Jesus.

Allison Byxbe, a writer and certified journaling instructor, lives with her husband, three kids, a few dogs, and some chickens in South Carolina. When she’s not pondering words, she enjoys nature, deep conversations, and at least two cups of coffee a day. She loves to connect with others about family, special needs parenting, mental health, grief, and faith. You can find more of her writing on her blog Writing Is Cheaper Than Therapy.