Poured Out and Filled Up: How Motherhood Mirrors the Servant Heart of Jesus
by Ashley Enderle
This morning, I was reading through the worn pages of my Bible in the book of Mark, diving into moments where Jesus displayed his boundless compassion. In one chapter, he saved a child from a demon, opened deaf ears and loosened the tongue of a man in Tyre, and then fed four thousand people so they wouldn’t have to wander home hungry (see Mark 8:1). I marveled at his character—the countless ways he poured himself out for the people he loved.
Just as I was soaking it all in, I heard my child call, “Momma, come wipe me!”
The grumbling started somewhere deep inside me as I closed my Bible and headed to the bathroom, wipes in hand.
Later, one of my daughters tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “What does it mean that when Daddy isn’t home, Zion is the ‘man of the house’?”
The question lingered in the air, simple but layered. I turned the question back to her. “What do you think being a leader means?”
She scrunched her nose thoughtfully before replying, “A leader makes sure people follow the rules.” Her answer, so matter-of-fact, made me chuckle—not at her, but at the starkness of it. Rules. That’s what leadership often looks like to us: a privileged someone standing at the top, pointing out lines not to cross.
But I can’t let it end there. “That’s part of it,” I say, “but what if leadership is something more?”
This moment, like so many others lately, pulled me into a teaching space I didn’t plan for. I explained that true leadership often looks less like commanding and more like bending low—serving others, sacrificing comfort, and living in a way that inspires others to follow. It’s about showing a heart that loves first and leads second.
As the words spilled out, they echoed louder than I expected. I felt them pressing back on me, challenging me to live what I teach. Do I lead my children this way? Do I serve them in a way that reflects the humility of Christ, or am I more focused on order and control?
True leadership often looks less like commanding and more like bending low—serving others, sacrificing comfort, and living in a way that inspires others to follow.
Too often, I treat my children as accomplices in my day—my little sidekicks—or if I’m brutally honest, even accessories to my plans. This week, I caught myself in the middle of a great conversation with a friend, feeling frustrated as the kids kept interrupting. Yes, they need to learn patience and how not to interrupt, but my annoyance went deeper. I realized my frustration wasn’t just about their interruptions; it was about my misplaced expectation that I should have uninterrupted adult time whenever I want. Motherhood doesn’t always fit neatly around my plans. That truth cuts at my self-centeredness in ways I don’t want to face.
In those early years, survival was the priority. My focus was on logistics. I was occupied by getting out the door by 9:00 a.m. and keeping the baby awake until nap time. My days revolved around keeping everyone alive. Now I have stepped into new territory. The sacred and daunting call is to shape their character and disciple them in Jesus’s ways, moment by moment.
The stakes feel higher now. My daughters are navigating real emotions, real losses, and real challenges. Just this week, someone at a playgroup told my daughter that she couldn’t be the princess because she was black. In the same breath, I braced myself to share the news that one of their best friends would soon be moving across the country. These aren’t the toddler struggles I once knew. This isn’t potty training—it’s the real world, and it feels overwhelming in ways I never expected.
Lately, I have realized how much my own transformation impacts them. Suppose I wake up (which I’m not proud to admit) with my own agenda and expectations of tasks I need to handle without actually considering what the Spirit may be calling me into. In that case, I’ll be disappointed and woefully ill-equipped. I’m experiencing transformation in his hands as I’m becoming more willing to be “poured out like a drink offering” (Philippians 2:17).
One of the most humbling examples of Jesus’s love and servant leadership took place when he washed his disciples’ feet (see John 13:12–15). The King of Kings stooped low to perform one of the dirtiest, most degrading tasks of his time—taking on the role of a servant for the sake of others. And his example extends to us: “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet” (v. 14).
Motherhood is foot-washing. It is serving the least of these—from wiping sticky hands, cleaning up repeated messes, coaching siblings through conflict, and soothing another injured child. These acts of service can feel thankless and repetitive, but they are holy work. How often I forget or devalue what I am doing. Transformation comes from experiencing true change from within—a change in desires, from my way to his way.
This is where the challenge lies: seeing these acts not as burdens but as opportunities to reflect how much Jesus loves my children.
Transformation comes from experiencing true change from within—a change in desires, from my way to his way.
So how do I embrace this calling to serve in motherhood, even when it’s hard?
1. Start the Day With Surrender.
Each morning, I pray Psalm 143:8 over my day: “Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in You. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life”. When I begin with surrender, I’m reminded that my role is not about striving but about leaning on his grace.
2. See Interruptions as Opportunities.
When Jesus was interrupted, he didn’t see people as distractions but as beloved souls who needed his attention. When I hear, “Momma!” for the hundredth time, I try to pause and see it as an invitation to reflect his patience and love.
3. Model Servant-hearted Leadership.
The Apostle Paul exhorted believers to imitate Jesus’s example of servant leadership: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:3–4). This kind of leadership doesn’t demand recognition; it involves quietly loving, sacrificing, and showing my children how to live for others.
4. Invest in Their Hearts, Not Just Their Habits.
In the early years, survival mode was necessary. But now, I’m learning to invest more in shaping their hearts. This means asking questions, listening to their thoughts, and intentionally weaving Scripture into our conversations.
5. Find Joy in the Small Moments.
Jesus served with joy, even in the mundane. Whether I’m wiping a messy face or listening to a story about a stuffed animal’s adventure, I remind myself that these small acts of love echo eternity.
Jesus’s example of washing his disciples’ feet reminds me that even the dirtiest, most unnoticed tasks can glorify God when done in love. This transformation isn’t instant—it’s a daily journey of surrender and growth. But as I lean into his Word and his example, I find myself changing. My grumbling is replaced by gratitude, and my weariness is met with his strength. So even now, as I hear my three-year-old call, “Mommy, I want to show you something!” I pray for a heart that is eager to answer my children’s calls. And it’s worth it, as my son adds, “Mom, I prayed for Jesus to help me, and he did!!” Same, buddy. Same.
Ashley Enderle is a writer, therapist, and mom of four, blending homeschooling, holistic health, and hope throughout daily life. @ashley.elizabeth.writes