For a long time, I believed my worth was something I had to earn. I was the girl who loved checking boxes and reaching the next milestone, and when I became a mom, I brought all of that with me. It took me years to learn that abiding in Christ, not achieving, is where my worth is found.
I loved my kids and wanted them more than anything. But honestly, I wasn’t content being their mom. I’d bought into the cultural lie that my value came from what I achieved, and motherhood doesn’t hand out promotions or performance reviews. Nobody gives you a bonus for getting a toddler down for a nap or a raise for the hundredth peanut butter sandwich. Even with an MBA and a plan for the corner office, I couldn’t find the scoreboard for motherhood. So I built my own.
I was always trying to get things done. The minute the baby monitor went quiet, I was off and running, wiping counters, folding laundry, checking boxes on a list that never seemed to get shorter. And if I’m honest, I sometimes kept that pace even while my kids were awake and wanting my attention. I wanted a perfectly clean house, an impressive resume, and well-behaved, well-dressed kids who looked like they belonged in a catalog. I put constant pressure on myself, and on them too. I wanted proof that my life mattered.
The person who suffered most was me. I was often frustrated, usually weary, and occasionally in pieces.
I didn’t come to Jesus until my oldest was two, and it took years for Him to change how I saw my worth. Even now I have to remind myself that I don’t need to earn God’s love. I already have it.
What our culture tells us
Our culture is obsessed with achievement, money, and power. We celebrate celebrities, athletes, and billionaires, then scroll past their highlight reels wondering why our own lives feel so small. For moms it’s quieter. We measure a day by what got checked off and compare our kitchens to someone’s spotless one online. That kind of approval always comes with conditions, so we never get to stop earning it.
How God sees you
When Jesus came up out of the waters of the Jordan, the heavens opened and the Father said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17). Jesus hadn’t preached a sermon, healed a single person, or performed one miracle yet. The Father’s delight in Him came first.
In Christ, that’s true of you as well. We are saved by grace, not by anything we’ve done. We don’t serve God to win His approval. We serve Him because we already have it.
If we’re not abiding, we’re striving
Psalm 46:10 in the NASB says, “Cease striving and know that I am God.” The Hebrew word for “still or striving” is Raphah ()רָפָה and it means to let go or loosen your grip, like finally unclenching a fist you didn’t realize you were making. I love that this psalm was written in the middle of chaos, with the earth giving way and the mountains tumbling into the sea. Its stillness comes from knowing who God is.
I strive most when I’m unsure of my worth. Control is what I reach for when I’m struggling to trust.
What abiding in Christ really means
In John 15:4-5, Jesus says, “Abide in me, and I in you… for apart from me you can do nothing.” The Greek word translated abide is menō, which means to stay, remain, dwell, or keep living in a place without leaving. It’s the language of home, of unpacking your bags and settling in.
A branch doesn’t strain to produce fruit. It doesn’t grit its teeth or set goals for how many grapes it will grow this season. It stays connected to the vine, drawing life from it day after day. Jesus says, “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love” (John 15:9).
Abiding is also how we find out what we’re called to do. Ephesians 2:10 says we are His workmanship, created for good works that God prepared ahead of time. When I’m not abiding, I lose sight of those and fill my days with my own list.
When we look around instead of up, like Peter did when he noticed the wind and the waves and started to sink, we lose that connection and try to fill our cup some other way.
When stress is a signal
God never intended for us to live stressed and burned out, lying awake replaying our to-do lists. When I’m there, my priorities have usually gotten mixed up. Jesus says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest… For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28, 30). If your load feels crushing, it may not be one He gave you.
He has given us gifts, but He has never asked us to do everything or to do it perfectly. That pressure comes from us when we let the culture back in to tell us who we are.
How to practice abiding in Christ
Abiding in Christ isn’t a one-time decision. It’s a daily, sometimes hourly, practice of opening my hands and laying things down at His feet.
I try to practice God’s presence all day by staying aware of three things. His presence, because He’s with me in looking for nursing homes for my mom or listening to a friend share about their prodigal child. His power, because I don’t have to hold everything together on my own. And His promises, because my worth is already settled even on the days I feel like I’m falling short.
I try to pray without ceasing. For me that means keeping the conversation open all day, not just in my quiet time with my coffee and my Bible.
Breath prayers have helped me most. You pray a short phrase as you breathe in slowly and out again, while folding laundry, stirring a pot of soup, or sitting at a red light. A few I use often:
- Breathe in “You are God,” breathe out “and I am not.”
- Breathe in “I am loved,” breathe out “I don’t have to earn it.”
- Breathe in “Be still,” breathe out “and know.”
When I feel stress tightening in my chest, I ask, “Lord, which of these did You give me to do?” Then I let go of the rest.
What abiding feels like
Think about a toddler who has fallen asleep on her mother’s chest, cheeks flushed and breathing slow, completely at rest. She didn’t have to do anything to be held there. Or picture a lake early in the morning, before the wind picks up, so still it reflects every color of the sky. Think of a tree planted by water, sending its roots down to the stream, its leaves still green in the heat of a drought. Or sheep lying down in soft green pastures beside quiet waters, unafraid because their Shepherd is close by.
That’s the kind of rest God invites us into.
The fruit of abiding
When we are abiding in Christ, fruit grows out of our connection with Him, slowly and naturally, the way fruit always does. And so does joy.
When my worth is secure in Christ, my kids don’t have to be my report card. They get a mom at peace instead of one under pressure, a mom who can sit on the floor and play without one eye on the to-do list. And they learn what grace looks like by living with it.
I’m still learning this. Some days I catch myself striving again, but I’m getting quicker at turning back to Him.
What are you carrying today that God never asked you to carry?
If you’d like to grow in this alongside other moms, momQ’s mentor-led groups are a great place to learn to abide together.
