Loving Your Children Like You Love Other People’s Children

Have you ever noticed that you can be more patient, kind, and understanding with people outside your immediate family than with your own spouse or children?

You might be at a party or the grocery store when someone else’s child drops something or makes a mistake. You respond gently. You give them room to be a child.

Or you see a parent being harsh with their little one, and your heart goes out to that child. You think, Why are they being so hard on him? He’s just a child.

But when your own child does something similar, you react quickly. Your patience runs thin. The understanding you offered another child becomes harder to find at home.

I noticed this in myself, and God used it to get my attention.

A Question I Couldn’t Answer

A few weeks ago, I was helping a family with a project. I’ll call the father Bob to protect their privacy.

While working with Bob’s family, I noticed myself showing his son more patience and gentleness than I might have shown my own son in similar situations.

At that very moment, God asked me, “Why are you able to be more patient with Bob’s son than with your own children?”

I didn’t have an answer.

It felt like a slap to the face and an awakening in my heart. I love my children deeply, but God was showing me something about the way I treated them.

Right there, I made this prayer:

“God, please help me be more patient and gentle with my own children. Help me give them even more grace and room to grow than I give to Bob’s son or the other people around me.”

It has been a few weeks, and that conviction has stayed with me. I have noticed myself slowing down, responding more gently, and giving my children more room.

I still have growing to do. But something is changing.

This particular awakening did not come through a parenting book or a podcast. God spoke into an ordinary moment and showed me something I needed to face. That made it deeply personal. I could not simply agree with a good idea and move on; I needed to respond.

What Does “Father” Mean to Your Children?

As I thought about this and talked with Jessica about what God was doing in my heart, the Holy Spirit reminded me of Jesus’ words:

“Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?”

Matthew 7:9-11, KJV

Jesus points to the care earthly parents can show their children and then invites us to see how much greater our heavenly Father’s goodness is.

That made me think about what my own children are learning from me.

One of their earliest and most influential understandings of fatherhood comes through their experience with their dad.

When I tell them, “God is your Father,” the word father already means something to them.

If I am consistently impatient, angry, or harsh, they may imagine God responding in the same way. They may find it difficult to trust a heavenly Father when their experience with their earthly father has left them afraid.

That is a sobering responsibility.

We cannot perfectly reflect our heavenly Father. We make mistakes. We lose patience. We get things wrong.

That is why apologizing matters. Taking responsibility matters. Changing our behavior matters.

Sometimes helping our children understand God’s goodness begins with saying, “Daddy was wrong. I should not have spoken to you that way. Will you forgive me?”

We can acknowledge our failures while helping them know the Father whose love is perfect.

Why Does Our Family Get the Leftovers?

This reaches beyond our relationship with our children.

Sometimes we offer coworkers, friends, and people at the grocery store more kindness than we offer our spouse. We listen carefully to someone else’s concerns, then become impatient when our own family needs our attention.

Why do the people who depend on us most sometimes receive the least patience?

Why do those closest to us get whatever is left after we have given our best to everyone else?

Our families need our kindness, our gentleness, and our willingness to listen. They need to know there is room for them in our hearts and in our day.

That does not mean we have endless energy. It means we pay attention to how we spend the patience we do have—and whether we have grown comfortable withholding it at home.

A Safe Place to Make Mistakes

If our children mainly experience us through yelling, constant criticism, or harsh correction, they may learn to hide their mistakes.

As they grow, I want my children to be able to come to me when something has gone wrong. I want them to know, Dad will listen. Dad will help me. I can tell him the truth.

That trust grows through the way I respond to them now.

If I humiliate them over small mistakes, I make it harder for them to bring me bigger struggles later.

But when I respond with patience, tell the truth with love, and help them take responsibility, I show them that correction can happen within a secure relationship.

I am not saying children should get away with everything. There is room for boundaries, consequences, and correction.

But they should never have to wonder whether a mistake has cost them their place in the family.

They belong because they are our children. Their belonging is not a reward for good behavior.

Our homes should give them room to learn, fall, receive help, and try again. And when they step into the world and make mistakes, I want them to know they can still come home.

The Father Who Welcomes His Son

One of Jesus’ best-known parables is the story of the prodigal son in Luke 15. I also like to think of it as the story of the good father.

The son makes devastating choices. He wastes his inheritance and eventually returns home, ready to confess his failure.

But while he is still far away, his father sees him, runs to him, embraces him, and kisses him.

Before the son can offer to become a hired servant, the father calls for a robe, a ring, sandals, and a celebration. He welcomes him openly as his son.

The son’s failures were real. So was his father’s love.

That story reminds me of the Father’s heart toward us. His love is not something we earn through flawless performance.

And it challenges me to consider whether my children experience that kind of welcome from me.

The Patience I Already Know How to Give

I am still learning this. I am writing as a father whom God corrected in the middle of an ordinary day.

What struck me was that I already had the capacity to respond patiently. I had just demonstrated it with someone else’s child.

I could slow down. I could listen. I could give someone room to make a mistake without reacting harshly.

God’s question made me face how readily I offered that patience outside my home—and how much my own family needed it too.

So this remains my prayer:

“Father, help me love my children in a way that reflects Your love for me. Help me listen, respond gently, and give them room to grow. Let my wife and children experience the kindness I so readily offer others.”

The next time you find yourself showing patience to someone outside your family, let it remind you of the people waiting at home.

They need that gentleness too.