The Journey to Trust Jesus for Others

“Sanctification is not something Jesus Christ puts into me: it is Himself in me.”
— Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

A few years ago, I watched a video of baby birds hatching from their eggs. What fascinated me most was discovering that it can take days for them to break free. The mother bird does not help crack the shell from the outside. She stays close. She watches. She listens to the cries.

If she were to intervene, the baby’s wings would not develop the strength required to survive.

In the struggle comes the strength.

That image has stayed with me because it mirrors my sanctification journey—and my journey of trusting Jesus with the people I love most.

Crying Out in the Dark

For years, I struggled to see myself as valuable. I believed the lie that I was insignificant. I lived in performance and perfection, hoping achievement would fill my longing to be seen and loved.

Deep in the core of my soul, I wanted to be saved from myself.

Like the baby bird inside the shell, I felt alone in the dark—crying out to be rescued.

Jesus promised He would never leave us. He also promised we would struggle. The birds do not fight their way out in minutes. It takes days. Sanctification can feel the same.

There are two parts to surrender: Savior and Lord.

It was easier for me to receive Jesus as Savior than to trust Him as Lord. Because of deep-rooted trust issues, yielding control was not natural. But time after time, circumstance after circumstance, my obedience revealed something undeniable:

He is trustworthy.

Every time I yielded, I became more like Him. The more I permitted Him to reside in me, the less of me ruled and reigned

Trusting Jesus for Me… But Not for My Children

It is one thing to trust Jesus for your own salvation.

It is another thing entirely to trust Him for the salvation of your loved ones.

Sometimes I have been tempted to shake the people I love and say, “Wake up! Can’t you see God’s goodness?”

And then I remember—there was a time when I couldn’t see it either.

Faith believes.
Trust walks when it cannot see.

The Mountain That Exposed My Grip

In 2017, my oldest daughter turned eighteen and prepared to leave for college. Before she left, our family traveled to Heber Springs. Through what I can only describe as a divine appointment, a man named Coach led us on a hike up Sugarloaf Mountain.

As I watched my children climb steep, jagged rocks and leap across dangerous gaps, fear gripped my heart. There were moments I had to physically look away.

When we reached the summit, the wind whipped around us. I had a serious conversation with God.

I heard the still, small voice ask:

“Do you trust Me?”

“Yes, Lord. I trust You.”

Then again:

“Do you trust Me with your children?”

My answer did not come quickly that time.

I wept.

I realized I trusted God with my life—but not with theirs.

On that mountaintop, I repented for clenching control. I wanted to save them from struggle. I didn’t want them to hurt. But the Lord gently asked me to unclench my fists—from a fighting posture to open palms of praise.

Just as I struggled, so would my children. They would not be exempt from pain. In the struggle comes the strength.

That day, I said yes to trusting the Holy Trinity to lead, love, and launch my children. I cannot see their future, but I am connected to the One who can.

He is trustworthy.

When They Walked Their Own Paths

Over the past seven years, I have watched both of my children step into adulthood.

I watched my daughter turn from knowing God to knowing the world. I heard her say she didn’t have a mustard seed of faith. I watched my son step away from church after being deceived by a false shepherd, his heart hardened by unforgiveness.

Each turn shook me.

Injustice fills me with rage. I wanted to take control. I wanted someone to blame. I had followed the “right” template—raising them in God’s Word, in community, in love.

“What did I do wrong?” I asked.
“Why aren’t You saving them?”

And the Holy Spirit whispered:

Love always wins.

I quieted my body. I closed my eyes. I imagined leaning into Jesus the way John did, resting my head on His chest. I felt His heartbeat.

That heartbeat that pulses for me
also pulses for my children.

If He could save me, He can save them.

He is trustworthy.

What Does Unconditional Love Really Mean?

The Lord led me to journal what it means to love my children unconditionally.

I thought about Peter denying Jesus three times and how, after the resurrection, Jesus didn’t ask Peter, “Do you know Me?” He asked, “Do you love Me?”

Knowing and loving are not the same.

The Aramaic word for love, hooba, carries the idea of burning, fiery love from deep within the heart. The Greek word agape describes a loyal, demonstrated, unconditional commitment.

The apostle Paul wrote that love patiently endures. It keeps no record of wrongs. It celebrates truth. It bears all things.

The word stego—love as a verb—means “roof.” Love becomes covering. Shelter. Protection. Not exposure.

I had told my children my entire life that my love was unconditional.

Now my words were being tested.

In my sanctification journey of performance and perfection, God revealed my pride—my desire for my children to perform and be perfect. He flipped the script and asked me to apply the same grace that was applied to me.

When trusting others for Jesus, we love in the waiting.

A Mother’s Ongoing Surrender

I recently wrote my daughter a letter explaining this journey.

I confessed that I am still learning how to mother adult children. That each season required a shift. That I have failed and misunderstood more times than I can count.

Yet she still loves me.

Just as she is worthy of love, so am I. Aren’t we all?

That is why Jesus came.

He restored Mary Magdalene.
He revealed Himself first to a Samaritan woman at the well.
He entered a lineage filled with broken stories.

He came to prove we are loved.

We do not choose when we are born or to whom. But we do choose how we live. At thirty-three, I chose to follow Jesus. For seventeen years, I have remained loyal to His teachings—not because it is easy, but because He equips me daily for what I cannot handle on my own.

I have not walked in my children’s shoes. They have not walked in mine. That is where empathy and compassion must live.

There is no bond like that of a mother and child. Though physical cords are cut, spiritual connection remains. We were designed to stay connected in the Spirit.

And part of sanctification requires that we not become stumbling blocks in someone else’s salvation journey (Hebrews 12:15).

Unconditional love is necessary when we trust Jesus for others.

The Question for You

Who is God asking you to release into His hands?

Are you clenching your fists, fighting in your own strength to save someone you love?

Pause.

Reflect.

Who is the Savior of the world?

You…
or Jesus?

Jesus is trustworthy.