Pants

Recently, our 8-year-old son, M, refused to go to school because he said none of his pants fit. This logistical hiccup eventually revealed a much deeper issue. 

That morning, after some frantic parental tag-teaming—complete with raised voices and desperate dessert-based bribery (parenting under pressure rarely looks graceful)—we finally uncovered the real reason for the standstill: he was worried about how he looked. More specifically, he was afraid the other kids might make fun of him.

When we eventually got him to school—late but dressed—we learned that no one had actually teased him. Instead, he had overheard his friends gossiping about other kids, and in his mind, that meant he could be next. His logic was painfully mature: if they could talk about others behind their backs, why not him?

His dad talked to him about resilience and gently explained that, yes, people will likely say unkind things at some point in life. As M walked into school, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he wrestled with self-doubt or fear of judgment.

I spent the rest of the day wondering how to help him navigate these moments better. Life will bring more of them—hard conversations, painful words, unkind people. We’re all a little broken in our own ways, and that brokenness often spills out onto others. Words have power. M himself has said hurtful things to his brother and to us. That doesn’t make him or others bad—it makes them human and in need of Jesus.

So, as Jesus works on my son's heart, how do I respond? Do I start by sharing a moment from my own childhood—times I was teased, and how I got through it? Do I try to minimize his fear by saying no one will care about his pants being a bit short? That probably won’t help; the story he’s telling himself is likely far scarier than reality. Or maybe I try to explain why people say hurtful things in the first place—that it often has more to do with their own insecurity than with the person they’re criticizing.

Most of all, I want to show him where his identity truly lies. How do I help an 8-year-old understand that his worth isn’t measured by his wardrobe, or by what others think or say about him—but by what God says about him? That he was created intentionally and wonderfully, and that every part of him is good in the eyes of the One who made him? How do I make those truths real to him—not just words, but anchors he can hold onto?

Maybe some of this he’ll need to experience for himself. Maybe all I can do is walk alongside him, offer new pants when needed, and remind him—again and again—who he is and whose he is. And maybe, through it all, I can point him to the One who can turn fear into courage, and insecurity into peace.