I arrived at church one blustery February morning, notes in hand, ready to teach a group of young mothers some deep truths about how God works through hardship. As we settled in I said, “Well, ladies, I’m proud of you for venturing out on such a nasty morning. It would have been easier to stay home.” I remembered how hard it was to get little kids out the door on a good day, let alone when the snow was flying.
We moved through our study, and I felt really good about how I’d presented the topic. As we finished up, one of the young women pulled me aside. Ah, she’s probably got a question about God’s sovereignty, or about trusting Him in the hard times, I told myself.
“Luba,” she said, “I can’t tell you how much it meant to hear you say you were proud of me. My mother never said that to me.”
It wasn’t my carefully crafted lesson that impacted her. It wasn’t my profound interpretation of Scripture. It was a passing comment, a motherly affirmation, that gave her the encouragement she needed to “keep on keeping on” as a young mom on her journey with Jesus.