Ep. 16 When Correction Becomes Identity | The Parenting Apocalypse: Criticism

Got a question or a future episode idea? Email me: julie@parentforward.com

Criticism often sounds reasonable, but it can quietly teach our kids a story about who they are. I explore how timing, labels, and a critical spirit can break connection and how we can begin again with grace. 

• the moment where correction pulls in history and becomes personal 
• how repeated criticism forms identity rather than growth 
• Dr Gary Chapman’s story about affirmation first 
• why timing determines meaning in parent feedback 
• my “bad at math” label and how it changed 
• Eli’s “troublemaker” identity and what naming goodness did 
• the critical spirit as a posture that spreads 
• how our view of God’s voice shapes our parenting voice 

If this episode was helpful to you, you can rate the podcast, leave a review, or share it with somebody who would benefit. 

You can also come hang out with me on Instagram at @JulieLuse or at @ParentForwardPodcast. And on my website, parentforward.com, where I share additional resources for parents who want to grow in this work. 

Transcript

Welcome To Parent Forward

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I'm Julianne Luce, and you're listening to episode 16 of the Parent Forward Podcast. This is a space where we look at parenting through the lens of spiritual formation, where what's happening under the surface matters as much as what we can see before us. This is where we examine your life with God and your story and who you're becoming and how that's all shaping how we parent and what we are forming in our kids. I'm a kids ministry director, a parent coach, and a spiritual director. But I'm also a parent, a practitioner, right here in the middle of it with you. And I'm really glad you're here. This episode is part of a series called The Parenting Apocalypse, where we're naming the patterns that quietly break down connection in our homes so we can begin again with clarity. If you haven't listened to episode 15, that will give you the foundation for where we're headed today. And it will also give you clarity on this crazy title and what we're naming as the four horsemen of the apocalypse, patterns that serve as predictors to relationship breakdown in our family. Today we begin with the first of the four horsemen, criticism. Criticism rarely sounds harsh when it leaves your mouth. It sounds normal, it sounds reasonable, it sounds like good parenting. It sounds like how many times do I have to tell you this? You were just told this. Why does this keep happening? Are you even thinking right now? Nothing about those sentences feels extreme. They feel accurate, they feel justified, but there's a moment inside them where something shifts. It's not at the beginning. It's usually in the middle. The sentence stops being about what just happened and it starts pulling in a pattern. That's the turning point. You walk into a room and you see shoes on the floor, you could say, Hey, your shoes are still out. Can you put them away? That stays with the moment. But often what comes out is, why are your shoes always in the middle of the floor? How many times do I have to tell you this? Now we've added history. Now we've added repetition. And now we've applied this isn't just something you did, it's something about you. And your child feels that shift instantly. And it's not because they're overreacting about it, but because they're interpreting it. One moment like this doesn't define anything, but repeated moments begin to form something. Over time, your child is not hearing individual corrections. They're building a pattern. I keep messing up, I don't do things right. I'm the one who frustrates people. And you never sat them down and taught them that, but your language is teaching it anyway. So here's the change I want you to see. You're trying to correct for edification, but it begins to land as identification. There's a conversation I listened to recently that I really want to point out to you because it captures this so clearly. It's a podcast called Pardon the Mess with Courtney DeFeo. And the episode is the love language that matters the most, Dr. Gary Chapman. If you don't know his work, he's the author of The Five Love Languages, which sold over 20 million copies and has been translated into dozens of languages. And his work has shaped the way people all over the world think about love and marriage and family. And in this interview, he was talking about his newer book, written with Drs. Les and Leslie Parrott, called The Love Language That Matters Most. The big idea in that book is that discovering a love language is only the beginning. Love is not one size fits all. Each love language has dialects, very personal ways love is uniquely expressed and received. So even when you're speaking the right language, you can still miss the person if you don't understand how it is being perceived and received. This matters so much for parenting because this is exactly what we're talking about this episode. Not just what you meant, not even just what you said, but how it was received. There's a story that Dr. Gary Chapman shares in that interview that I just can't shake. He was visiting a teenage boy in the hospital. The boy had developed stomach ulcers, and as they were talking, Chapman asked him a simple question. How do you and your dad get along? And the boy said, I don't ever please my father. Well, that's a strong statement. So Chapman asked him to give some examples. And this is when the boy said this. When I bring home a B on my report card, my dad says, You should have made an A, son. You're smarter than this. When I'm playing baseball and I hit a double, my dad says, Oh, you should have made that into a triple, son. You gotta learn to run. When I mow the grass, he always points out what I missed, like under the bushes. And as you listen to that, nothing the father said is outrageous. He's not yelling, he's not name-calling, he's not tearing his son down. He's doing what a lot of us would call good parenting. He's he's trying to help him improve. He's trying to push him toward his potential, he's trying to raise him well. But here is what landed. Not once, not twice, but over time. The son didn't walk away thinking, My dad wants me to grow. He walked away believing I don't ever get it right. I never quite measure up. There's always something missing, and that's the part that we have to pay attention to, because the father was speaking to performance, but the son was forming identity. In that interview, after sharing that story of the boy, Chapman explains it like this. The issue wasn't that the father corrected him, the issue was when he corrected him. Chapman says, when a child brings home a B, this is not the moment to tell him how to get an A. That moment belongs to affirmation. You celebrate the B, you acknowledge the effort, you let them feel that what they did mattered. Then, later, after the moment has passed, after the paper is no longer in their hand, after the emotional weight has settled, that's when you say, I wonder what we could do next time to move that toward an A. Same truth, same goal, different moment. And because it's a different moment, it lands completely differently. What Chapman is showing us is that timing determines meaning. You can say the exact same sentence, and depending on when you say it, it will either feel like I'm for you or you're not enough yet. In the moment of effort or completion, a child is asking one question, did I do okay? And if the first thing they hear is correction, they do not hear guidance. They hear that wasn't good enough. So think about how this shows up at home. You've likely seen this in your own home. Your child cleans their room and you walk in and say, You missed a spot over here. That may be true. But because of the timing, what they experience is what I did doesn't count. Now shift that moment. You say, I can tell you worked hard on this. Thank you. And then later, or maybe the next day, you say, Can I show you this one small thing that would make this even better next time? It's the same correction, different timing, different impact. This is one of the quiet ways correction turns into criticism. And when that happens repeatedly, something deeper begins to form. Criticism doesn't stay in moments. It starts to collect. And when it collects, it becomes something more fixed. And then it can become something more like a label. I think I know what this feels like from the inside. I grew up believing I was bad at math. And honestly, I still don't know if that was actually ever true. Somewhere along the way, that idea got into the air of our house. And I don't know if it was just said in the other room to my older brother to make him feel better because school was hard for him, or if it came from a lazy stereotype that was repeated in my home that boys are better than girls at math. But I absorbed it. And once I absorbed it, it started to affect my performance. I remember falling behind in math and feeling deeply embarrassed by it. And while other kids were taking algebra, I was in pre-algebra. And the classes I was in, they just felt humiliating to me. I looked around and didn't think I was the same as these other kids that were in this class. I just, I felt like I'd already been sorted into a category. And it kind of just had a snowball effect on me. I felt ashamed to be there. And then I probably didn't perform as well because I already believed something was wrong with me in that area. But fast forward to my senior year, I had finally caught up enough to be in an age-appropriate math class, although I was one of the older students in the room. And then I got this teacher, Miss Benner. Now, she was incredibly smart, but also imaginative and creative. And right at the beginning of the semester, she told us we're going to use creativity to remember concepts and equations, and then we could present those ideas to the class however we wanted, whatever our wildest imagination could come up with. So I wrote a rap, a math rap, to the tune of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, which was one of my favorite shows at the time. I had so much fun with it. I performed it in class, everybody loved it, and Miss Better was nothing but encouraging. And for the first time, I realized math could actually be fun. Math could use my right brain. Math didn't have to live in the world of dread and shame for me. And all semester long, she kept teaching us these creative ways to remember things. And I ended up with the highest grade in that class. I was not just doing okay. I had the highest grade, higher than all the other kids that I think are smart kids. And then I got to college and had to take a math placement exam. And I still remember sitting there quietly, humming little tunes in my head, using the creative memory tools Miss Benner had taught me. And when I met with the advisor afterwards, I had scored so much higher than some of these other really smart dudes sitting next to me that I only had to take one math class in college to graduate. And people with the same major had to take several. And that was the moment it hit me. I don't think I'm bad at math. I actually started tutoring the other kids in my class. I think I had been given an identity that affected my performance. That's what labels do. If they stick long enough, they stop feeling like somebody else's opinion and start feeling like the truth about you. And if that's true, then this isn't just about math. It's about how easily something said or implied or repeated can become something believed. And once it's believed, it doesn't just sit there. It starts shaping how a person shows up, how they try, how they risk, what they assume about themselves before they even begin. So the question isn't just what are we correcting, it's what might be quietly forming underneath the correction. I want to tell you another story about a boy we'll call Eli. He was in my VBS group one summer, third grade, high energy, always moving, and during worship in the sanctuary, he would be out in the aisle doing the worm. I thought it was so fascinating. And when the older ladies would turn around and say, He needs to stop that. He needs to sit and sing. And I would say, Well, he's participating the best way he knows how. And at the beginning of the week, I told the kids there were things I'd need help with and that I was going to be looking for helpers and for kindness. I had a little prize bucket, and if I saw a child doing something especially helpful or kind, I could put their name in the bucket, and the next morning we would draw out a name and they would win a prize. And I remember specifically looking at Eli because I could already tell this kid had been labeled. I knew people saw him as the troublemaker, but I saw something else in him. I thought he was kind of nice, and I saw goodness. I wanted to call that out. So I started asking him directly, will you help me with this? Will you help this other student? Can you think of something kind to do today? And I watched him do every one of those things, not just because I asked him to, but because once it had been named, it started coming out. He even began doing kind, thoughtful things on his own. When he won his first prize, he was genuinely surprised. He said, Why did you put my name in that bucket? I said, Because I keep seeing you do all these kind things. And he looked at me and said, I'm not the kind kid. I'm the troublemaker. I said, Well, who told you that? And he said, My mom and my teachers have always been the troublemaker. I said, But what if you're not? What if you're actually what I keep seeing? Kind and sweet and thoughtful. And he said, Well, you would need to tell my mom about that. She'll never believe it. He ended up getting his name in the bucket quite a bit that week. He won twice. And I remember going to his mom who was serving in another part of the church and telling her how blown away I was by how sweet and kind he was, and that he had already won two kindness awards. And she looked at me and basically said, My son? You've got to be kidding me. You've got the wrong kid. And I said, This is your son, all right. I just decided he wasn't a troublemaker. I called him kind, and I think he started living out of that instead. I think about that story all the time. How many kids are living inside an identity they didn't choose? How much of what is true and right and beautiful in them gets buried under a label that was repeated too often? That story about Eli, that's what makes this so sobering. Nothing huge about Eli changed. He was the same personality, same energy, same kid. But what changed was what was named, what was called out, what was reinforced, what was given room to grow. And once that shifted, his behavior followed, someone saw him differently. And he started seeing himself that way too. So now we come back to us because criticism doesn't begin with our words, it begins with the story we are already telling ourselves. Before anything comes out of our mouth, there is often a sentence already running underneath the moment. Here we go again. This is becoming a problem. They should know this by now. And if we're not honest, those thoughts were there before the words came out. So the deeper question is what have I already decided is true about my child? Is it actually true? Or is it something I've assumed or repeated or carried forward without examining it? There's another layer to this because over time, this doesn't just become a momentary reaction. It becomes a posture. You begin to develop a habit of scanning, looking for what's off, what needs correcting, what could be better. And when that becomes your default way of seeing, it shapes what comes out of you. You don't have to work to find the problem. It's the first thing you notice. That posture has a name. It's called a critical spirit. And it doesn't stay contained to your child. It shows up in your relationships, it shows up in how you speak to yourself, it shows up in how you assume God relates to you. This is not only about changing your words, it's about examining what your attention has been trained to notice. You can ask, what am I looking for when I walk into a room? What do I see first? What needs fixing? Or what is good and present and growing? Because whatever you train your eyes to see will shape what your mouth speaks. This way of seeing it was formed somewhere. So another thing worth asking here is where did I learn this? What was said to me growing up? What was said often and what was missing? Was correction quick? Was affirmation rare? Did you learn to scan for what was wrong before you ever learned to recognize what was good? Because if that shaped you, it makes sense that it shows up through you. And it also is worth asking something a little deeper. How has this shaped the way you see God? When you think about God's posture toward you, what comes to mind first? Is it patience? Is it steadiness? Or does it sound more like you should be further along by now? Why do you keep doing this? You're not quite there yet. Because the voice you believe God uses with you will shape the voice you use with your children. So part of this work is not just changing how we speak, it's allowing God to reshape how we hear Him. So think back to a recent moment. What came out in your words? What was already running underneath it? Does this need to be said right now? And as you sit with that, I want to take a moment to care for your soul. This kind of work can feel really exposing. You might already be thinking of moments you wish you could redo. I want you to hear this. You're not behind. And you're not failing. You are becoming aware that really matters. So let's bring that to God right now. Father God, you see what we learned and carried. You see the voices that formed us long before we had children of our own. You see the moments where we react faster than we want to. You see the places where we feel worn down. And you are not standing over us, pointing it all out. You are with us, patient, steady, present. Would you begin to reshape the way we hear your voice so that it becomes the voice that leads, a voice that invites, a voice that tells the truth without shame. Give us eyes to see our children clearly through who you are forming them to be. And give us grace. Grace to notice, grace to pause, grace to begin again. Amen. Next episode, we move into the second pattern, the second horseman, defensiveness. If this episode was helpful to you, you can rate the podcast, leave a review, or share it with somebody who would benefit. You can also come hang out with me on Instagram at JulieLose or at ParentForward Podcast. And on my website, parentforward.com, where I share additional resources for parents who want to grow in this work. If you have a question or a thought or an idea for future episodes, I'd love to hear from you. Go ahead and drop me an email, Julie at parentforward.com, or you can find my email address in the show notes. I'm really grateful you're here, and I'm delighted that you joined me on this journey. Until next time, friend, keep parenting forward. One faithful step at a time.