Yesterday, I worked 16 hours hauling garbage. My body was beat. My mind was numb. I could still hear the backup beeper echoing in my ears as I dragged my boots through the front door.
But then I saw it.
My wife—face lit by the screen, sleeves rolled up, editing the last pages of our book. Still working. Still giving.
And behind her, I heard the sound of my daughters singing while folding laundry. Dishes clinking in the sink. Chores getting done with joy. Not resentment.
My youngest son walked in right after me. Straight from his job. Quiet, tired, proud.
And right there, something hit me.
I wasn’t just raising a family. They were raising me.
We think parenthood is this top-down thing. Like we’re sculpting little humans from stone.
But the truth is—God uses them to shape us.
Every diaper. Every late-night cry. Every argument about curfew.
It chisels away the selfishness. It burns off the pride.
It exposes the places we still need Him.
That’s the gospel of family.
It humbles. It sanctifies. It grows you up, real fast.
The world says kids will ruin your life.
God says they’ll help you find it.
So to the tired dad who thinks he’s falling short…
To the mom who’s wondering if any of it matters…
To the husband who doesn’t always get it right but keeps coming home…
They see you. God sees you.
And these small, sacred days?
They’re not small at all.
If you’re done with shallow, self-help “parenting hacks” and ready to build a home that stands the test of time—
Subscribe to The Biblical Man.
We write for families who aren’t playing games.
We write for legacy.
We write before the world does.
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