No Products in the Cart
Opening Prayer:
God, we thank you that we can come before you and we can bring you our mess. We can bring you our failures. We can bring you our disappointments and our discouragement. And you are bigger than all of it, Father. I thank you that you are a redeeming God. I thank you that you can use us in our weakness, that you don't call us to perfection, that you call us to come as we are, and that you just delight in using us. And even in our weakness, God, you are glorified and you are made strong. So I just speak against shame and guilt and I just speak peace over us. that we are a new creation, there's just so much mercy and grace that you have for us, Father. And so we just come before you and we are excited to see what you have to say to us today. We ask for new perspective. We ask for new vision, and we ask for eyes to see the way you see. In your name, amen.
Let's start by challenging a message we hear constantly: "You are enough just as you are." While this holds beautifully true for salvation (God absolutely accepts us as we are), I've found this mindset can become problematic when facing my very real human limitations.
The truth? I fail. I make mistakes. I'm not enough on my own.
And that's precisely the point.
The whole purpose is reliance on God—recognizing that I need Him and that on my own, I simply cannot do it all. I'm merely human. I have human responses. I sometimes say the wrong thing. I get emotional, frustrated, impatient. Those are human traits we all share.
As a homeschool parent, I feel like a failure often. It comes upon me when I try to go to bed at night: regret. “Would have”, “should have”, and “could have” abound. Tomorrow will be better I tell myself, only to discover that I fall just as short the next day as I did the day before.
Anytime my children struggle with reading or writing, whenever they don't have enough friends or aren't connecting in youth group—I take it personally. I immediately assume I've failed them somewhere along the way. Then I shift into fix-it mode, researching solutions and trying to patch the problem because, ultimately, I believe I dropped the ball.
But here's what I've discovered: what we do with our failures matters infinitely more than the failures themselves.
I've noticed three distinct paths we can take when confronting our shortcomings:
Guilt and Shame (pressing down) - Where failure becomes a weight that immobilizes us
Conviction (pushing forward) - Where failure becomes a catalyst for positive change
Justification (moving backward) - Where we rationalize our failures and avoid responsibility
When we are led by conviction, the difference is profound. Guilt is something that settles on you like a heavy blanket. It's a burden that presses you down, leaving you swirling in discouragement. Conviction, however, is like a gentle hand at your back, pushing you forward with hope and the promise of victory on the other side.
When I'm feeling like I've failed my children, I try to pause and ask: "Is this feeling pushing me down, moving me backward, or pushing me forward?"
Many of us feel like failures because we're measuring ourselves against standards God never called us to meet. I've had to completely rethink what "success" means in homeschooling.
My definition of success in education is very different from what most people expect. I don't measure it primarily by grades, tests, or how much information my kids have memorized. Instead, I look at:
Their heart and character development
Their relationship with the Lord
Their ability to think for themselves
Their skill in articulating ideas
Their capacity to find information and dig deeper
Their enthusiasm for learning and discovery
I see success as so much more than just information transfer. And when I recalibrate my expectations to align with what I truly value, those feelings of failure begin to fade away, and I’m able to have a more positive perspective.
Our family has walked through various seasons—periods of illness, pregnancy, financial hardship, and times when I've been stretched incredibly thin. During some of these seasons, we've done what might be considered "unschooling"—where formal lessons took a backseat to life learning.
What amazed me during these less structured times? I saw tremendous growth in my children. Their relationship with God deepened. Their character strengthened. Fruit appeared in unexpected ways.
Remember: difficult seasons don't last forever. What matters is recognizing when you're in one and adjusting your expectations accordingly.
When you're feeling overwhelmed by failure, small steps make all the difference. I often ask, "God, what is one thing I could do today? Just one thing."
If you expect yourself to do it all and be it all, you're setting yourself up for disappointment. I actually call my planning system my "impossibility plan"—it makes me feel good to write it down, but my expectation isn't to fulfill every item. I'm realistic about what I can actually accomplish.
Sometimes, that one thing might be:
A meaningful conversation with your child
Reading together one-on-one
Taking learning to a coffee shop to break the tension
Focusing on connection instead of curriculum
These small moments add up to something beautiful over time.
One of the biggest failure points I see—both in my own life and in the lives of other homeschool families—is poor stewardship of time. We become so busy with activities, ministries, and commitments that we miss the moments that matter most.
I've watched families where half their life is spent in vehicles shuttling between church functions, ministry events, extracurricular activities, and social engagements. Then they wonder why there's no time for deep connection, education, or discipleship.
The Bible tells us to "be very careful with your time for the days are evil" (Ephesians 5:16). True discipleship requires time together—eating, talking, living life—just as Jesus did with his disciples. Time is our most precious and limited resource with our children.
If you're running at 110% every day, what happens when something serious disrupts your carefully balanced plates? When you're too busy to notice the subtle signs that your child is struggling? When you miss that they didn't say goodnight because something's bothering them?
We need margin. We need space. We need unhurried moments where real connection happens.
Perhaps the most beautiful truth I've discovered is that God is a redeeming God who works through our failures. When my children see me make mistakes and then seek forgiveness, they witness something powerful—not just the failure, but the redemption that follows.
Everything becomes an opportunity. Everything can be used for good. When we shift our perspective to see our failures as launching pads rather than endpoints, they propel us forward rather than hold us back.
I'm reminded of David's story after his failure with Bathsheba. He fasted and prayed while his child was sick, but when the child died, Scripture says he "came to himself." He rose, bathed, changed his clothes, and moved forward—not because he didn't care, but because he recognized that while he couldn't change what had happened, he could influence what happened next.
That's the mindset I want in my homeschool journey.
In our darkest moments, when failure seems overwhelming, worship becomes our most powerful response. When we praise God in the midst of our messiness, the enemy is confounded. "Why are they worshiping? I know they've got all this stuff going on!"
Even if I'm feeling battered, sick, or completely inadequate as a parent and teacher, I choose to worship because no matter what happens, God is still good. He is still worthy. He remains seated on the throne.
Worship is our warfare
If you're feeling like a failure today—if your curriculum sits untouched, if patience has run thin, if comparison has stolen your joy—remember that these moments don't define your homeschool journey. They're simply part of the beautiful, messy adventure of raising human beings who see both your humanity and your reliance on a God who redeems all things.
Your failures don't disqualify you from this calling. In fact, they might be the very things God uses to demonstrate His grace most powerfully to your children.
So I ask you today:
Where have you been measuring yourself against standards God never gave you?
What "one thing" could you do today to move forward?
How might God be using your perceived failures for something beautiful?
As we continue this journey together, let's embrace our imperfections while still pressing forward with hope and purpose. Let's encourage each other to see failure not as an endpoint but as an opportunity for grace to shine even brighter in our homes.
Running the race,
