It happened again. I’m sitting around, chatting it up with the girls, and one of them queries, “Did you see Supernanny last night?”

Now, I’m expecting an ensuing satire– like the one my children performed when I taped the show to see what all the hoopla was about. But instead, I hear, “Did you see how Supernanny used The Naughty Chair? What a wonderful idea…”

Amy gags in response, but nobody notices her choking because they’re all too engrossed with the finer details of the latest episode. Amy hits herself on the back in a feeble attempt to keep living, and all the gals praise her for illustrating the importance of back-patting.

It’s all very good for the self-esteem.

Now, I don’t want to be the cause of anyone’s sense of worth spiraling out-of-control. But the question begs to be asked: Why are Christian mothers going to secular humanists for parenting advice?

Answer: As a symptom of a greater problem (in a nutshell, worldliness), the Christian community as a whole has failed to follow a Titus 2 model of discipleship.

For the sake of pragmatic efficiency, we’ve replaced front porch bean snapping with Christian Women’s workshops. All one needs to know can be learned in a 12-week Bible study, “how-to” bestseller, or Saturday workshop.

I’m not against efficiency. I’m not against workshops either, and you know how I love (non-self-help) books. Being a mother of several small children, cutting corners and studying efficiency models is time well-spent. However, I just had a conversation with an older mother who knows that a few things would have turned out differently if she’d put down her books and had a cup of tea with a grandmother in the church. I took her words to heart.

There are nuances that can’t be conveyed in a mass-media format (such as this). When you’re at the kitchen table instead of a workshop, you see Mama smile at her little boy every time he enters the room. You witness her firm, gentle voice in response to Baby’s fit. You observe her bending down when she talks to grandchildren. You see her adding a dash of garlic to every dish and setting out the best piece of pie for her husband instead of herself. And it’s also a lot easier to cut to the chase.

A few years ago, I was the only whipper-snapper in a Monday morning quilting circle. I remember watching the older women hand-stitch their pieces, and thinking, “I’ll never have the patience to make more than a twin-size quilt.” I was right. I marveled at how they just took their time, and it was clear why my work didn’t look like their work. (It still doesn’t.) You can’t learn to “pop the knot” by watching HGTV; you have to feeeeeel the knot pop. Likewise, patience– for sewing and living– is gleaned from observing aged wisdom in action.

It bears repeating that Jesus passed on the Kingdom work to twelve men on a fishing boat. No mention of a 40-day program with matching bread and fish journals.

As for SuperNanny, I guess it’s good in some sick way that the media are finally giving us permission to discipline our own children. I mean, it’s pleasurable to know that I can bite, kick, and cuss one of my authorities, and I’ll only get 29 minutes (one minute for each year I’ve been on earth) in The Naughty Chair. That’s actually worth it.

As for me, I’ve found that Biblical wisdom is getting easier to come by now. Just observe the latest trend, and go do the opposite.