The public library is a melting pot of parenting styles. Once, as I shuffled my kids into the play area, hidden behind a sea of strollers, nannies, and the occasional grandfather, I overheard two moms sharing recent struggles. The first mother was describing her young daughter’s new sticker chart: “Whenever she listens to me, she gets to put a star in the ‘Listening’ column. The other two categories are ‘Sharing’ and ‘Respect,’ for things like —”
The second mother cut in. “But is it really a good idea to use prizes to reinforce normal, expected behaviors? Isn’t it better for kids to learn to behave well without a reward?”
“Well, what other way is there?” replied the first.
Without missing a beat, the second retorted, “Yelling.”
Help for the Yeller?
For generations, frustrated parents have responded to impertinent children by yelling. And for just as long, some parents have seen that anger and swung in the opposite direction. Today, many of the latter parents embrace the label “gentle parenting.” In past times, similar labels have been used. Whatever the name, such parents shun physical discipline, fear saying no, and resolve against inflicting emotional pain. And I wonder how many believers today have become such parents by mistake.
Whether at story time or on social media, we hear of fathers and mothers misusing their God-given authority. For these parents, to be called “Dad” and “Mom” can mean little more than a license to roar at small humans — rather than a privileged charge from God to raise children in Christ (Ephesians 6:4). Perhaps we ourselves, neck-deep in sleepless nights, have screamed and stamped and then cried from shame one too many times. Maybe our own parents so abused their power that concepts like authority and discipline seem much nearer to necessary evils than blessed responsibilities. We swear not to repeat the past. At all costs, we refuse to identify with the cavalier mother at the library — as a yeller.
Philosophies like gentle parenting step in and say, “I can help with that.” No, really: From my research, such advocates, resources, and websites begin by asking questions like “Do you want to stop yelling at your kids?” and “Are you tired of being angry all the time?” With most parents’ last tempest not far from view, many are listening in. And I get it. We know enough about brain development, attachment theory, and childhood trauma to make peace with irritable parenting. A more compassionate approach sounds just like what modern dads and moms need.
But is “gentle parenting” (along with its cousins past and present) what Christian dads and moms ultimately need? I’m doubtful. Of course, believers can affirm certain aspects, like seeking to understand a child’s juvenile, often tender “frame” (Psalm 103:14) or parenting with an eye to long-term character formation (Proverbs 22:6), to name a couple. At the same time, just because a parenting style flies under a Christian-sounding banner — like “gentle” — does not mean that we should unwittingly accept all its principles.
So, whether you’re merely considering an approach like gentle parenting or seasoned in its practices, consider two possible reasons why believers may mistakenly resort to the less biblical aspects of these approaches.
1. Misuse does not negate proper use.
However often we hear of parents abusing their authority, however painful our family history, however ashamed we are of ourselves — abusus non tollit usum. “Misuse does not negate proper use.” As we rightly recoil at sin, seeking to spare our children from its wages, we wrongly abdicate the responsibility found in the second half of Ephesians 6:4: “Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.”
While the Greek word for “discipline” (paideia) has a range of uses, in its most extended appearance in the New Testament (Hebrews 12:4–11), the word implies more than the kinds of positive parental motions that gentle parenting sanctions, like teaching, modeling, and guiding. Granted, fully biblical parenting will primarily focus on positive training (as other New Testament uses of paideia suggest). But the presence of such instruction doesn’t mean the absence of solemn warnings and consequences. The kind of paideia on display in Hebrews 12 is the kind you have to “endure” (verse 7), the kind that “seems painful rather than pleasant” (verse 11).
God has ordered reality such that provenness often springs from such painful endurance (Romans 5:3–5). “For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it” (Hebrews 12:11). Without due care, yes — we can “provoke [our] children to anger” with the manner of our discipline (Ephesians 6:4). But unhinged verbal rebukes, unfairly revoked privileges, or unnecessary physical consequences are not the only way to agitate our children. A lack of biblical discipline is another way to do so. Certainly, we can be harsh with our discipline; so too we can be harsh with our gentleness, if that gentleness allows our kids to walk unrestrained paths of foolishness, sin, and shame.
When prompted and governed by a parent’s love — by true gentleness — the experience of pain in a child’s life doesn’t automatically spell provocation in his spirit. In fact, Hebrews tells us that, by God’s grace, pain may very well come to create peace one day.
2. Parenting doesn’t have to be an either-or.
Even so, our experiences, our society, and some of our friends often try to tell us that, when it comes to raising kids, there are two main options: Either you parent with gentleness and grace, or you parent through harsh, perhaps even harmful means. Either you empathize and encourage, or you command and demand. Either you prioritize healthy, age-appropriate, whole-child development, or you prioritize raising children who jump when you say, “Jump.” Indeed, if these are our only options, the choice is clear! Surely, parents akin to compassionate mentors are superior to those who act like sheer corrective authorities.
But the Bible — the truest, most loving, most useful words known to dads and moms (2 Timothy 3:16–17) — is not interested in false dichotomies. Scripture can say in one breath, “Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger” (Ephesians 6:4), declare with the next, “Whoever spares the rod hates his son” (Proverbs 13:24), and do no wrong. “The whole problem of discipline lies between those two limits,” says Martyn Lloyd-Jones, “and they are both found in Scripture” (A Theology of the Family, 303). He goes on to say,
All our problems [as parents] result from our going to one extreme or the other. That is never found in Scripture. What characterizes the teaching of the Scriptures always and everywhere is their perfect balance, a fairness that never fails, the extraordinary way in which grace and law are divinely blended.
Dear dads and moms, don’t we long to embody Scripture’s perfect balance — to parent between the poles, to divinely blend grace and law, and so to image God and the gospel to our children? Gentle parenting is not one of only two options. Neither is it the best, most biblical option. Ultimately, what we need is not a modern school of thought, crafted by secular thinkers, but a timeless Book, written by a Father who “disciplines the one he loves” (Hebrews 12:5–6), and the wisdom of his Spirit to know when and how to hold the law and extend the hand of grace.
Only by saturating ourselves in the whole counsel of this God can we begin to parent as if we believe that such a balance really exists. We need not approach each showdown over vegetables or curfew kerfuffle thinking, “How can I embody law and grace in every expression, every word, and every action right now?” That’s impossible! Rather, the point is that our children might pack their cars for college thinking, “Dad and Mom loved me like God loves me. They were not harsh, but neither were they passive. The God that floods my life with grace and bids me to obey — this perfect God was on display in my imperfect parents.”
In a recent conversation, a friend of mine said, “I’d rather have my son grow up thinking that I loved him too much more than that I corrected him too much.” I hear the heart behind her expression. But isn’t it possible for our kids to grow up thinking instead that our love need not be at odds with our authority and correction? When our polarized world tries to convince us otherwise, may we run to the Scriptures and plead with the Spirit, “Help me to parent with justice and compassion!”
Desiring God