Whenever people came over, I wanted to hide my children in their rooms.
Sweat pricked my forehead when I heard the knock at the door. As my oldest struggled against my grip, I would pull him in closer with a smile strained across my face. What if they disobey? What if they refuse to obey after I ask them twice? Every principle I had developed in parenting dissolved when people came over—I would bribe and make ridiculous threats in harsh whispers to make my children obey when guests were in our home.
I was always amazed at how much energy they had once people arrived, especially considering how much cleaning I had ordered them to do before the guests had likely even left their homes. I sent each family member scattered about like mice in an attempt to collect every bit of dust, clothing, and toys. I felt exhausted before anyone even stepped through our door.
Between the strain of mind and heart, along with the physical endurance needed, there were days that I wondered if it was worth having people over at all—at least, not until my little ones were sixteen.
Charlotte Mason saw mothers doing this in her day. She wrote in Home Education, “a mother whose final question is, ‘What will people say? What will people think? How will it look?’ and the children grow up with habits of seeming, and not of being; they are content to appear well-dressed, well-mannered, and well-intentioned to outsiders, with very little effort after beauty, order, and goodness at home, and in each other’s eyes.”
In our Instagram world, this quote could have easily been spoken in our day and age. Do we buy cute wooden toys, sandy-coloured clothes, and botanical posters to train, order, and love our family in the ways of truth and righteousness, or are we looking to achieve an Instagram picture that fits with the aesthetic of our feed? Are we striving to form image bearers who with true grace reflect their King, or impress people with a reflection of this world—with the false appearance of beauty?
Charlotte Mason believed that a mother, whether intentionally or not, is forming habits in her children, and those habits inform their actions and their character. Everything we do is building towards a habit, which in turn is mentally and spiritually forming them into the likeness of something. When we call our children to obey, it’s a habit we are instilling in them. Habits are important.
Even when our efforts towards obedience and loveliness are merely for appearance, it is still building a habit in our children—but a habit of seeming rather than of being. We’re training our children that they can be whatever they want when no one is looking, that they can treat those in their immediate household however they like behind closed doors, as long as the image that the world sees is acceptable and liked.
Is that the idea we want to implant in our children’s hearts? That might be the kind of life our social media world is striving towards, where authenticity is only used when it’s trendy and will bring in likes, but it’s not the kind that a family who loves God should desire. We know that God doesn’t look to outward appearance but looks upon the heart to test that what is there is made of gold and silver, which is lasting, or of straw to be burned (1 Sam. 16:7; Ps. 7:9; 1 Cor. 3:12). Habits are good, but are we emphasizing the right ones? Have we built children who obey outwardly, but don’t know Jesus inwardly?
Jesus said that on the day of judgment, there will be people who say, “Lord, lord, did we not do all these good works in your name?” But he will tell them, “Depart from me, for I never knew you” (Matt. 7:21–23). He likewise condemned the religious leaders for being like white-washed tombs—brilliantly clean on the outside but reeking of death and decay inside (Matt. 23:7). We can falsify obedience and add layers of loveliness and phony beauty to cover the stench of a disordered heart underneath. Some of my best friends from high school knew the Bible cover-to-cover, attended every church activity, memorized Bible verses, and always obeyed their parents—but now do not follow God.
It’s easy to read Charlotte Mason or the latest Christian parenting books and simply apply all the habits they recommend. We can follow our favorite Christian Instagram influencer and recycle her daily rhythms to our schedules. But unless we are striving to hide the truth away in their hearts along with the habits, it will all be for not.
Of course our children are saved by grace through faith in Christ (Eph. 2:1–9) and we cannot change our children’s heart, for that is the work of the Spirit (Gal. 3:1–6; 5:22–23; 1 Thess. 5:23–24). But we were entrusted with these little ones to raise them into Christ and do all that we can to put them on the right path. Again, as Charlotte Mason wrote,
Indeed this is what too many Christian parents expect: they let a child grow as the wild bramble putting forth unchecked whatever is in him—thorn, coarse flower, insipid fruit,—trusting, they will tell you, that the grace of God will prune and dig and prop the wayward branches lying prone. And their trust is not always misplaced; but the poor man endures anguish, is torn asunder in the process of recovery which his parents might have spared him had they trained the early shoots which should develop by-and-by into the character of their child.
Our children have a particular grace given to them having been born into Christian families. They have been given the opportunity to spend eighteen years in a home that is saved and changed by the gospel—we should not squander this. We have an opportunity to show them the better way forward, to train their hearts to know and desire obedience, and scorn that which is evil. God has given us these children to instill his truths upon their minds—not make them Instagram worthy or trophies to showcase to our company. Yet I so often put much more effort into giving my children the appearance of godliness than I do in truly forming their hearts towards becoming like Christ.
What matters most is the heart, not the appearances, and if we love our children, we will strive towards this seemingly impossible goal of turning our children towards holiness—both in action and in heart. Yes, this is tiring work, but can we do any less as moms who love their kids? Chesterton wrote that to love something (or someone) isn’t to be so pessimistic that we are too hopeless to see them changed or too optimistic to believe they are good enough as they are. “We have to feel the universe at once as an ogre’s castle, to be stormed, and yet as our own cottage, to which we can return at evening … Can [we] hate it enough to change it, and yet love it enough to think it worth changing?”
To love someone is to have eyes to see and love all that is good in them and love them so much that you wish to see them changed. Let us love our children so much that we strive to sculpt their hearts towards all that is good, true, and beautiful, rather than the fleeting beauty that comes with only the appearance of these things. Sometimes, this means letting them make mistakes and learn the lessons from the natural consequences, rather than striving to cover up their every fault.
One of my greatest embarrassments and fears around others is that my child will do something unkind to another child. Because of this, I struggled to keep my children far away from the others. Yet I’m learning that there’s value in letting my little ones come into conflict with other children and put in the work of repentance and reconciliation. That’s where heart change happens. Rather than the appearance of a kind child who never learns how to live in a broken world, I’m striving to form a child who can see his sins and apologize for them. This also means that I’m learning to be diligent at home to teach my little ones that they must apologize to their siblings as well, even though there are no outsiders watching. The home isn’t the place for them to let all their sins run loose, but the training ground for operating in the world.
We often grow lax in our training of our little ones because we just want to give them a break from all the effort, and we start to believe that they should be able to relax and simply, “be themselves” at home. Yet Mason taught that this is where all the hard toil of habits are completely lost. We must press on with the habits of righteousness and teaching our children the truths that accompany them. She reminds mothers that with time, habits become not only less burdensome, but (if truly habits towards godliness) also joyful. As believers, we know this to be true. “Happy are those who keep his decrees and seek him with all their heart” (Ps. 119:2 CSB). There is joy in obedience, and if we aren’t experiencing that joy, there is likely a heart issue at the root of it.
It’s not wrong to desire order and loveliness, but we must check our own hearts—am I desiring this for simply the appearances of it, or because I’m striving to form my child’s heart towards a greater truth? There is value in teaching our children to love order and beauty. But what is the reason for that—to make a photography ready home, or because God cares about beauty and order? Establish that in your heart first, and in the hearts of your children. In all, train their heart and eyes to God through teaching and habits, and to seek first his kingdom.
This is a tall order. We will fail, and our hearts will get out of line again, just like our children will fail to obey us. It’s our fallen nature, and God knows that. Yet perfection is still expected. That is why in all that we do, we must always rely on Christ, who did obey his Heavenly Father and lead his people without the tiniest of sins. By grace through faith in Christ, we receive not only his death in our place, but his perfect obedience as well. May we not only remind ourselves of this hope, but our children too as we guide them towards Christlikeness.
Lara d’Entremont is a wife and mom to three from Nova Scotia, Canada. Lara is a writer and learner at heart—always trying to find time to scribble down some words or read a book. Her desire in writing is to help women develop solid theology they can put into practice—in the mundane, the rugged terrain, and joyful moments. You can find more of her writing here on substack at
I loved this line, Lara. “The home isn’t the place for them to let all their sins run loose, but the training ground for operating in the world.” It’s so easy to get lost in the daily grind of parenting and it’s tempting to let things slide. Thank you for these words!