The Confidence We're Really Looking For

Who doesn’t want a confident child? It’s a quality we cheer for, a trait we believe paves the way for success and happiness. But what is confidence, really?

As a third-generation Chinese American, I’ve lived at the intersection of two cultures that view this concept differently. In the U.S., confidence is a celebrated virtue, a ‘believe in yourself’ boost that can propel you forward. In Chinese heritage, however, the concept of confidence holds tension and can tip toward arrogance if presented as loud or unearned.

When I asked my mom about my childhood, she described, from an American point of view, that I was a confident, outgoing girl who made friends easily. But my own memory tells a different story. For as long as I can remember, I was a people-pleaser. I wanted to be liked—who doesn't? I was often perceived as grounded: mature and self-assured, but inside, I was a pendulum constantly swinging between two extremes.

On one side was a feeling of strength, almost invincibility—a brash belief that I could do anything I set my mind to. But isn't that just pride in disguise? On the other side was a shaky foundation of self-doubt, where I sought approval and validation from others. That doesn’t sound like true confidence, either.

I’ve come to believe we often misunderstand confidence. It isn’t about how we appear to others, but what’s going on deep inside. We don't want our kids to have a surface-level confidence that shatters at the first sign of failure or criticism. We want them to have a deep, unwavering confidence that is both strong and humble.

So, how do we get there?

To start, let’s redefine what we’re really looking for. What if true confidence isn't self-confidence at all?

When we root our confidence solely in our own abilities, wit, or past successes, we commit ourselves to that unfulfilling pendulum swing. Our sense of worth becomes dependent on our latest achievement or the changing approval of others. Inevitably, this ties our identity to an unstable cycle, leaving us to swing between the fleeting high of pride and the downward pull of insecurity.

The ancient wisdom of the Bible offers a radical alternative. The apostle Paul writes:

“Such confidence we have through Christ before God. Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God.”

- 2 Corinthians 3:4-5

True confidence is not self-confidence, but God-confidence.

It’s the profound assurance that our competence, worth, and identity are gifts from a faithful and loving God. Rooted here, in Christ, we find the freedom to be both courageous and content, bold and humble. We can step forward without the crushing pressure to prove ourselves, because we are already secure in Him.

This is the unshakable foundation we must build in our own lives, and then model for our children. The best way to build true confidence in them is to demonstrate a confidence rooted in something far greater than ourselves. Let your confidence be in the One who will never fail, Jesus. This is the confidence we're all looking for, the confidence we’re made for.

Is Obedience the Goal?

Obedience.

What’s your gut reaction to that word? A nod of agreement, recognizing its importance? Or a flinch of caution, a reminder of control?

To our modern ears, "obedience" can sound archaic, even animalistic. It’s what we expect from a well-trained pet. But what about our children? I’ll be honest: I want obedience from my kids. I want to say, “Please put the iPad down,” or “Can you help set the table?” and have them respond right away.

But I have to ask myself: what’s really behind that desire?

Is it the generational echo of filial piety from my Chinese heritage, where obedience is akin to a love language? Is it my hope that they’ll learn to obey Christ, discovering the profound freedom that comes from trusting our Heavenly Father? Or, if I'm really honest, is it sometimes just a selfish desire for control and convenience?

Let's take a step back. In those moments when you’re demanding obedience, what are you truly trying to accomplish in your parenting?

Sure, we want our children to listen. But what we want even more is for them to make the right choice on their own. I want them to put the iPad down without having to ask. But when that doesn’t happen, the cycle begins: a polite request, a firmer command, nagging, and finally, an empty threat—“That’s it, no screens for a month!” We all end up frustrated, and no one has learned anything.

I think the reason "obedience" leaves a sour taste for many of us is that it can feel so empty. In my own upbringing, it often meant: Don’t ask questions. Don’t think for yourself. Just obey, or face the consequences. This approach may change behaviour in the moment but doesn't shape our heart.

So, how do we raise the bar? What is the higher goal?

The answer lies in this insightful verse from Luke, speaking about the role and mission of John the Baptist:

And he will go on before the Lord… to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous—to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.

Luke 1:17

Here's the shift: the opposite of disobedience isn't obedience -- it's wisdom.

This reframes everything. Parenting becomes less about enforcing rules and more about planting the seeds of understanding. It’s the long, patient work of asking questions and guiding them to see the why behind the what.

Our ultimate goal isn’t to control our children's behaviour, but to nurture their wisdom. We are not just seeking compliance for today; we are cultivating the discernment they will need for a lifetime.

Brace Yourselves

Living in Hong Kong we have the privilege of being in a subtropical climate with monsoons and typhoons. For those unfamiliar, typhoons are essentially hurricanes but located in the Northwest Pacific Ocean. This week we have Super Typhoon Ragasa in our weather forecast heading almost directly at Hong Kong. The media and observatory are forecasting this to be a record-breaking typhoon for the city with winds up to 220km/h.

As a parent, the idea of a looming super typhoon is in itself full of anxiety. There’s the grocery stock up and the home preparation (removing items hanging outside or on balconies). On top of that we have this underlying anxiety knowing that school will very likely be cancelled for at least one day, maybe even two or three, and the kids are going to be stuck at home. Perhaps even PTSD-like triggers arise from Covid-19 when Hong Kong had nearly 450 days of school closures.

As I think about the week ahead, I want to challenge myself and ask, how do I want to show up as a parent this week? How do I want to show up on typhoon day?

Here’s the thing, I know exactly how it’s going to play out if I don’t act with intention on this. This is what it’s going to look like: two of my three kids will have some format of online school. I’ll be scrambling around the house trying to set them up on different devices in different rooms. The internet connection will probably be unstable. There will be simultaneous shouting of, “Mommy, it’s not working! Come here!” Meanwhile my younger one will be complaining of boredom before 9am. After a short stint of chaotic school-screen-time, there will commence a whining for more screen-time. “Can I pleeease just watch one episode?!” And even though we may have only just finished breakfast I’ll probably hear, “Mommyyy I’m huuungryyy, can I have a candyyy? Pleeeease just oneeee?” The dog will be whimpering, the wind will be howling, and inside of me an even bigger super typhoon will be brewing.

I want to challenge us to prepare for this typhoon – the one inside. We may not be able to change the direction of Typhoon Ragasa, but I have everything I need to change the speed, direction, and even presence of the typhoon swirling in me.

The first thing that comes to mind is prayer. John 16:33 says, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” Life doesn’t actually stop during a typhoon. God, help me use these days as opportunities with my family to demonstrate peace amidst chaos and connection rather than control.

The next thing is connection. It’s very possible that my kids will be experiencing their own big feelings, their own typhoons. Their routine is off schedule, they might feel cooped up inside, they may feel scared of the howling winds outside. How can I show them that I understand and that we can trust God through it all?

And if I mess up (I probably will) and my patience wears thin after the 1000^th “mommmyyyy,” that’s ok too. Let’s try again. Let’s demonstrate a “do-over.” There’s something beautiful about typhoon days in that there’s no rush or hurry to get somewhere. We are exactly where we need to be. I pray for all of us this week, not only for safety from the outside forces, but also for safety from the inside with our families.

Psalm 23:1-4

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters,

he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me;

your rod and your staff, they comfort me.