Finding Grace in The Chaos of Parenting
By: Melody Tan
Yelling at children—especially younger kids—appears to be effective. They stop whatever they’re doing (or not meant to be doing) and start obeying you.
By: Melody Tan
Yelling at children—especially younger kids—appears to be effective. They stop whatever they’re doing (or not meant to be doing) and start obeying you.
By: Melody Tan
In 1997, Dr Gary Chapman released the book The 5 Love Languages of Children as a follow-up to his bestseller, The Five Love Languages.
The concepts that Dr Chapman shares in his book are essentially about how to increase a child’s sense of self-worth, love, belonging and role in the family. He narrowed down the ways children feel loved to five key ones (not dissimilar from the original).
While many parents have reported the book has helped children feel more deeply understood, valued and, most of all, loved, Dr Chapman’s work is not without controversy. Critics have pointed out a lack of scientific evidence to support the theory, its vagueness and potential oversimplification of the categories, and the potential for misuse.
There is however, still merit in the ideas behind love languages in that focusing on them can help you strengthen your relationship with your child. The key is to remember, and as pointed out by Dr Chapman himself, even if your child has a dominant love language, they will benefit from all five ways of receiving love.
It is crucial that parents still practice all five love languages. Show them love in all the languages and then teach them how to use these for themselves. The value is not only for your children but for the people with whom they will live and associate with.
Compliment them or their work. Have interactive conversations with them, both sharing your thoughts. These kids may love a good book, thoughtful gifts which include words, and heartfelt messages (think a note in the lunch box).
Allow them to help you and offer your help whenever appropriate. Thoughtful acts and unexpected assistance can make them feel like you appreciate them. There are lots of practical ways you can show your child you love them without saying a word.
Give them something tangible that lets them know you were thinking about them. Something in their favourite colour, animal they love or food they enjoy to show you know what they like. Gifts don’t have to be expensive or even cost at all. Be creative!
Every child wants to connect with their primary caregiver. Quality time doesn’t necessarily look like hours on end of uninterrupted play, but it does require genuine undivided interest to make it count.
All children thrive on physical contact. This could be a pat on the back, a hug, holding hands while going on a walk or a game of tickles.
Ultimately, whether or not you fully embrace Dr Chapman’s theory, intentionally expressing love in a variety of meaningful ways can only deepen your connection with your child and help them grow into secure, compassionate individuals who both recognise and generously give love.
Melody Tan is a passionate advocate for empowering mothers through connection, faith and digital engagement. She is project manager of Mums At The Table. She lives in Sydney with her husband and their primary-school-aged son.
Article Supplied with thanks to Sign of The Times Magazine
Feature image: Canva
By: Simon Matthews
It’s 9pm. You’ve had a long day and you’re standing in front of your open refrigerator. You know you’re not hungry. You know you said you’d stop late-night snacking. But somehow, you watch your hand reach out for the ice cream or leftover pizza.
Later, lying in bed, you get mad at yourself. “What is wrong with me? Why don’t I have more willpower?”
Here’s the truth that might surprise you—willpower isn’t your problem. In fact, willpower as we understand it might not even be real—or at least, not in the way we think.
For most of us, willpower feels real. It’s the thing we’re supposed to call upon when temptation strikes—the thing that separates people who achieve their goals from those who don’t. When we succeed at something difficult, we credit our determination. When we fail, we blame our weak will.
This story is deeply embedded in Western culture. Ancient Greek philosophers talked about self-control. Medieval scholars linked willpower to moral character. Victorian thinkers saw it as the foundation of discipline and virtue. Even today, we admire people with an “iron will” and shame ourselves for lacking it.
The concept is appealing because it seems to match our subjective experience. When you don’t eat that second slice of cake, it feels like you’re flexing some internal strength. When you give in, it feels like that strength has failed.
But what if that feeling is misleading? And what if the whole framework is wrong?
Ask 10 people what willpower means, and you’ll get 10 different answers. Is it resisting temptation? Persevering through difficulty? Following through on a commitment? Possessing a good character?
This vagueness makes willpower a useless concept for change. When something can mean almost anything, it explains almost nothing.
Recent research suggests that what we call “willpower” is actually a collection of different mental processes—impulse control, persistence, emotional regulation, habit strength and more. There’s no single “willpower switch” to flip.
You may have heard willpower described like a muscle—it gets tired with overuse, so after a day of resisting temptations, you simply run out. This “ego depletion” theory was popular for a while, but studies have found little evidence for it.
What does seem to matter is what you believe about willpower. People who think willpower is unlimited show better self-regulation than those who think it runs out. In other words, believing your willpower is depleted can become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
And the opposite is also true—believing you have bucketloads of willpower can help you. But it’s not willpower doing the heavy lifting; it’s what you believe about yourself.
The thing I most dislike about the willpower story is that it places all the responsibility on you as an individual, while ignoring all the other things that influence behavioural change.
I’ve been a psychologist for the better part of 30 years and one thing I’ve come to appreciate is how much the things around you matter—where you live, who you live with, the opportunities you have and the resources you have at your disposal. It all makes a difference.
Is it easier to avoid eating biscuits when they’re in a jar on your kitchen counter or when they’re still on the supermarket shelf? Is it easier to go to the gym when it’s two minutes from home or half an hour’s drive? Is it easier to change a habit when your friends are doing the same, or when they’re still doing what you’re trying to stop?
Your environment matters enormously. So do your skills and knowledge. So does whether the change aligns with what you truly value, not just what you think you should want.
When we frame everything as a willpower problem, we overlook these other factors. Worse, when we struggle—as we almost always do at some stage—we conclude that we’re weak or flawed, rather than recognising that the conditions for change weren’t in place.
This self-blame creates shame. And shame is one of the biggest barriers to meaningful change because it makes us less likely to seek help or be honest about our struggles.
Most successful behaviour change doesn’t feel like an act of will after a while.
When you first start exercising, it might require significant mental effort to get yourself to the gym. But after several months, it usually becomes automatic. That’s not because your willpower got stronger—it’s because you built a habit that matters to you.
Think about brushing your teeth. I’m certain you don’t use willpower for that. It’s become a stable routine, most likely paired with another routine—like what you do after breakfast or before you go to bed—and it communicates important information about who you are. Ie, I’m someone who looks after my teeth).
So if willpower isn’t the answer, what is? Modern psychology offers far more useful frameworks.
Many behaviours we might see as willpower failures are actually “emotional regulation” challenges. You’re not eating because you’re weak-willed; you’re eating because you’re stressed and haven’t learned other ways to comfort yourself. You’re not avoiding the gym because you’re lazy; you’re avoiding it because exercise triggers anxiety about your body, feelings of physical discomfort or because you worry about all the things you’re not doing while you’re at the gym.
When you learn to identify and work with your emotions—rather than ignoring them and trying to “will” yourself to act—change becomes much easier.
Make the healthy choice the easy choice. This is the principle behind “nudging”—making small changes to your environment that guide you toward better decisions.
Want to eat more vegetables? Put them at eye level in your fridge and pre-chop them so they’re ready to go. Want to read more? Put your phone in another room and leave a book on your coffee table or pillow. Want to save money? Set up automatic transfers on pay day so you just don’t see the money in your account. Small changes like this make new behaviours much easier.
Sometimes what we call a willpower gap is actually a skill gap. You don’t lack the will to eat healthily—you lack the skill to cook or meal plan. You don’t lack the will to manage your money; you lack the skill to budget, or simply financial literacy.
Seeing change in this way gives you something to act on. Skills can be learned. But you can’t simply “will” yourself to have more will.
The willpower story is seductive because it’s simple and because it aligns with a lot of societal, cultural and even religious messages we’ve been raised with. But it makes change feel like a moral test you’re always failing. It keeps you stuck in cycles of self-blame instead of solving problems.
The good news is you don’t need more willpower. Here’s what you need to do:
This approach treats yourself as a whole person navigating complex circumstances, not as a moral failure who just needs to “try harder.”
So next next time you find yourself standing at the refrigerator at 9pm, instead of asking, “Why don’t I have more willpower?” ask, “What emotion am I trying to manage right now?”
Once you’ve answered that, then ask, “How else can I satisfy that need?”
Those questions will lead you somewhere useful—to greater understanding of yourself and your needs. The willpower question just leads to shame. And you know you deserve better than that.
If you’re interested in exploring these ideas further, here are some great books that challenge the willpower myth and offer practical alternatives to managing change in your life:
Atomic Habits by James Clear
Tiny Habits by BJ Fogg
Switch: How to Change When Change Is Hard by Chip and Dan Heath
The Willpower Instinct by Kelly McGonigal
Mindset by Carol Dweck
Article provided by Signs of The Times Magazine
Simon Matthews is a psychologist and leadership coach. He is a dual Fellow of both the American College and the Australasian Society of Lifestyle Medicine. He is an adjunct lecturer at Avondale University Lifestyle Medicine & Health Research Centre. He loves talking about his passions of travelling and cooking. He writes from Madrid, Spain.
Feature image: Canva
By: Kemy Ogendi
If your mind was a home, would you choose to live there? If your thoughts were visitors, would you let them in? Who would you ignore? Who would never make it through the door?
Our brains are great at telling stories, again and again. Not all of them are helpful or true. We tend to stress over tomorrow or ruminate on yesterday, rehashing old arguments, fearing the hypothetical, obsessing over things that are out of our control. But it does not have to be this way. You can make your mind a better place in which to live.
Recently, a friend of mine sent me a song by Ellie Holcomb. The words hit me like a flood of light into a dark, lonely room:
“Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Where can I go from Your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, You are there
If I make my bed in the depths, You are there!”
These lyrics come straight from the Psalms, a book of songs and poetry in the Bible. This one says that God is everywhere, all the time. His presence is not restricted to a single place or state of mind. He is with me at church; He is with me at soccer training; He is with me on the drive to work. God is here when I am at my best, when I am my worst- and He is everywhere in between. He does not change and He never leaves. I knew this, cognitively, but my body had forgotten how close and how kind God really is. So, He used a song to remind me.
There is a song in the Psalms for every situation: grief, joy, anger, gratitude, confusion—you name it.
Several months ago, I sat down at the piano, feeling rejected after an awkward conversation. I opened my Bible to Psalm 57 and started singing the words.
“Be merciful to me, O God!
Be merciful
For in You my soul takes refuge
In the shadow of Your wings
I will take refuge
‘Til the storms of destruction pass by.”
Within minutes, my heart was soothed.
Another night, I found myself in a panic: tight chest, anxious mind. I picked up my guitar and started to sing Psalm 27:
“The Lord is my light and my salvation:
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life;
Of whom shall I be afraid?”
That night, I sang and sang and sang and each word drove the fear further away.
Another day, a Psalm caught me mid-spiral. I was feeling frustrated when a song from the Psalms started playing in the back of my mind. It felt like an invisible hand slowly turned up the music until my anger subsided.
When we feel frozen, frazzled or frightened, music cuts through the fog in a way that words alone cannot. It is tempting to turn to temporary fixes when life becomes unbearable. We can numb ourselves by scrolling through our phones, swallowing whatever the algorithm offers. Some of us overwork, others overeat, others oversleep or rely on other vices. We have a cornucopia of distractions at our fingertips, ready to alleviate our suffering. But where do we go when the numbness fades and the ache returns?
The Bible is not an anesthetic. The Psalms do not shy away from pain. These songs cut right into the human heart, their words full of questions, complaints and desperate cries. They are also full of gratitude and beauty. There is no shallow comfort here, only rich, hard-earned hope and tear-stained cheeks. God gives us joy through the ache, instead of an escape.
Some of my dearest friendships have been deepened through conflict and hard conversations. The Psalms constantly teach me how to talk with God like a friend. They give me words to pray when I do not have any of my own. Many were written to be sung, not read. I love reading the Psalms but singing them weaves each word right into the fabric of my mind.
The first chapter in the Psalms promises a blessing to anyone who delights in God’s instruction, thinking about it “day and night”. That person will become like a tree planted by rivers of water that produces fruit in its season. Its leaves will not wither and whatever he does will prosper. That is a bold claim to make right at the start of the book—one worth testing out.
Does your life feel dry? Fruitless? Like you are withering away? Get a Bible, choose a section and chew on it for a while. Let it run through your mind, again and again. The Psalms are a great place to start, they are honest and hopeful, rich in comfort. I cannot think of anything better to have stuck in my head.
Article supplied with thanks to Signs Of the Times
Kemy Ogendi wries from Central Australia. She is currently working on a handful of music projects in Alice Springs, one including several Psalms. You can listen to her music here.
Feature image: Supplied
By: Joshua Newbegin
Recently I was at my friend Brendan’s house preparing for a camping trip. One of my favourite things is getting away for the weekend—escaping the hustle and bustle of modern life, immersing myself in nature and exploring new places with friends—with the boys!
We had a few jobs to do with the vehicles and equipment before we hit the road. As we headed out to the shed, Brendan said to his three-year-old son, “Jonty, do you want to come out to the shed with Josh and I to help us?” Without hesitation Jonty threw his arms in the air, sprinting flat-stick towards the shed, and shouted with delight, “Maaaan stuff!”
That memory brings a smile to my face as I think about Jonty’s joy. But it also makes me wonder—what exactly is “man stuff”? More importantly, what does it really mean to be a man?
This question can seem somewhat provocative in our current cultural moment. What is a man? Is it merely the possession of an X and Y chromosome? And perhaps more importantly, what is it that makes a man great?
Sometimes it can help to define what something is by looking at what it’s not. It’s easy to recognise when men fall short of the mark, when they fail to meet society’s expectations. The term “toxic masculinity” is used to describe when a man sinks beneath the ideal. But are all forms of masculinity toxic? Is there an ideal version that’s missing from the world today?
How do we know when men have failed? Throughout history there have been numerous great men that we have looked up to as ideals. And yet, even the greatest among them were imperfect. Perhaps you can recall a public scandal—a presidential affair or an elite athlete brought down by substance abuse.
These are public examples, but many failures happen in private: fathers who abandon their families; boyfriends who physically or emotionally abuse their partner; men who use strength or power to dominate or manipulate.
At their core, these failings come down to a lack of self-control—abusing power and strength at the expense of others, typically the vulnerable. That’s what I mean when I use the term toxic masculinity: dominating those who can’t fight back.
But to be clear, it’s not just a male problem—it’s a human problem. Toxic humanity. The depravity of the human heart. Ultimately it boils down to self-centredness, self-preservation, anti-love—or as we Christians call it, sin. This problem plays out in our natural makeup of either masculine or feminine, but the root issue is the same.
To dig deeper would be beyond the scope of this article so I’m going to focus on the masculine side, which raises the question: why does this happen? What leads to the downfall of men?
One reason many men struggle is because of a lack of solid masculine role models in their lives. Psychologist Jordan Peterson refers to this as the “Peter Pan” syndrome. Peter Pan is an eternal child—full of potential—and that’s the problem. Peter Pan never grows up. You can hardly blame him, though. His model of manhood is none other than Captain Hook—a dangerous man, driven by fear of his impending demise, spiralling into chaotic and violent madness. Hook is hardly a role model worth aspiring to.
And so, Peter’s potential remains unrealised. Sure, he’s king of the Lost Boys, but that’s hardly something to strive for. He has the opportunity to connect with a real girl, Wendy, yet instead prefers the company of Tinkerbell, the fairy. Sadly, that’s not far from reality today—a generation of young men who’d rather stay home with the comforts of OnlyFans than take the risk of pursuing something meaningful—and risky—with a real woman. After all, a woman on OnlyFans is always available and won’t reject your advances.
The best example I’ve found of healthy masculinity is none other than Jesus of Nazareth. This might surprise some, especially because of effeminate artistic depictions of Him throughout history. Despite this, I would argue that Jesus is the epitome of what it truly means to be a man.
Jesus was a first-century Middle Eastern tradesman, a countercultural revolutionary and a fearless man full of passion and empathy. He was a teacher, but also a voice for the voiceless and oppressed. He wasn’t petty. He was humble and patient, able to absorb cruelty without retaliation. Yet when it came to the oppressed, He was relentless—a defender of the defenceless and a liberator of the burdened.
Jesus was a man in the truest sense of the word. So, what empowered Him to be the man He was?
One of the defining features of Jesus’ life was His purpose. Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl once wrote, “He who has a why can push through any what.” In other words, having a clear purpose is vital for men to thrive—especially when navigating the inevitable obstacles and difficulties of life. Frankl observed that in the Nazi concentration camps, men who lost their sense of purpose were the first to crawl up in the corner and literally die.
You may not be immediately threatened with death but without purpose, you’ll likely pursue pleasure—pleasure to distract yourself from the pain that comes from a meaningless life. Without purpose, you remain a boy, attempting to avoid the challenges of becoming like the men you once admired or have come to despise.
Throughout history, men have taken a stand when they had a clear “why”. Purpose enabled and transformed boys into men. From that foundation of a clear purpose flow courage, bravery and service.
Being a man isn’t just about strength—it’s about strength under control. In the words of author Ty Gibson, “True masculinity is power under (self) control. It can then flash forward when it’s needed to defend the defenceless, but always under the control of righteousness and love.”
That’s true masculinity. It takes far more strength to control our temper than to fly off the handle in a fit of rage. It takes far more strength to serve than to be served. True masculinity is power under control—power to protect, power to serve, power to empower. When that power becomes self-serving and self-centred, it crosses into the realm of toxicity.
In the words of 19th-century writer Ellen Write, “The greatest want of the world is the want of men—men who will not be bought or sold . . . men who will stand for the right though the heavens fall.”
Throughout history great men have stood against tyranny, liberated the oppressed, defended the powerless and sacrificed themselves for the good of others.
One of the most detrimental misconceptions I held growing up was the belief that being a man meant going at it alone—suffering in silence. As I’ve matured, I’ve learned how detrimental that idea is. The truth is, it’s a sign of strength to ask for help. Motivational speaker Les Brown once said, “We ask for help, not because we are weak, but so that we can remain strong.”
In a world full of chaos, we need men who will stand—men willing to grow up, who will move on from Neverland and step into a life of purpose. The world needs men who not only live up to their potential but empower others to live up to theirs—not for their own glory, but for the greater good of everyone they encounter.
It’s time for men to become more like Jesus.
This article is supplied with thanks to Signs of The Times
Joshua Newbegin is a coach, minister and communicator passionate about helping people grow through clarity, courage and connection. He is the founder of Kaizen Coaching Solutions and host of the Unchained Brotherhood podcast.
Feature image: Canva
By: Silvan Wallner
When Swiss soccer player Silvan Wallner discovered the biblical Sabbath, he immediately knew he’d have to make the hardest decision of his life.
On Christmas Day, 1914, bitter enemies laid down their weapons and for a brief moment, gave peace a chance.
By: Sally-Anne Clark
Homelessness isn’t something that just happens to “other people”. It can touch any one of us, at any time—and in a country as wealthy as Australia, it’s a reality we can and must change.