One of the neat things about our family is that we perpetually have a two-year-old in the house. Two-year-olds are great. Not only are they a lot of fun, but they also provide a ton of illustrations for life. In fact, my fifth child turns two-years-old today. We weren’t sure he’d survive this long with his propensity for eating bugs and jumping off high places, but he did. I’d like to wish him a “Happy Birthday!” but I’d also like a consolation prize for his stressed out parents.

The thing about two-year-olds is that you have to constantly be on your toes. They can be reckless and fearless. They push the boundaries, always on the lookout for a loophole or to see if Mom really means what she says.

I’ve often told one of my toddling children to stay in the family room. Here’s what they do. They go to the edge of the family room where the carpet meets the tile in the kitchen, and then they put their fingers, toes, and miscellaneous body parts on the line. They look to see if I’m watching. They weigh all their options. If I’m far enough away, they might put a scraggly toenail over the line and wait.

Christians are a lot like two-year-olds. They’ll read what the Bible says and then start looking for loopholes and lines. Instead of obeying the spirit of the command, they’ll look to see how much they can get away with before making a technical violation. Instead of just staying in the family room and enjoying it, they want to know what the rules should be if a meteor were to hit the house. It shouldn’t be this way.

The issue of contraception use among Christians is the same. We know that God thinks children are a blessing and a reward. We know that it is normative for married couples to produce children. We know that the world is anti-child and that God calls His people to a different standard. We know that abortificant means of avoiding children are wrong.

Because of these things, I’ve had eight pregnancies in the span of nine years already.

But as folks with straying, scraggly toenails, we also want to know where the line is. What is forbidden, what is required, and what is permissible due to our freedom in Christ? We know that we’re responsible to train our children up in the way they should go. We know that men ought to live with their wives in an understanding way, doing all they can to make sure that the one he is called to cherish isn’t crushed underneath a load that is too heavy for her to bear. We know that God’s commands—while difficult sometimes—are always freeing. We know that a man who doesn’t provide for his family is worse than an infidel. We know that our righteousness is because of Christ and not because of what we do. These things are also true.

The quiverfull movement (QF for short) is good for the support of its members. The culture has gone its own way off a cliff, but they’ve planted the flag. Raising a large family is difficult in our society. We do well to share strategies unique to the challenge. I’ve benefited from it. Where it strays course is when it assigns motives to those outside of it. “Selfish” and “not trusting God” are the catch phrases. I’m not willing to go there. There is not a Bible verse that allows us to do this to one another.

The Bible tells us, “Owe no man anything.” (Should we start an ONMA movement?) This command leaves us less wiggle room and also finds itself in the New Testament. The Bible talks about money a whole lot more than babies. Am I allowed to accuse a person of “not trusting God” if she owed a debt to someone? What about the person who is debt-free and funds the Great Commission because of it?

“Be fruitful” isn’t the trump verse of the Bible. If we were looking for the trump verse, it would have to be Jesus’ words to love God and love our neighbor. He already told us the main thing. (Question to myself: How well am I doing that?) How can we avoid one verse becoming the measuring stick of the condition of our hearts and the vehicle in which churches and groups are built upon?

The woman who has trusted God for the timing and spacing of her children does well. She ought to be praised. Where she fails is when she tells others exactly how they ought to do the same: all birth control is a sin. (A married woman who has produced a child has multiplied technically, were it about technicalities and not loving obedience to a good God.) Saying this isn’t postmodern, wherein one just picks out the verses they especially like and then tells everyone not to judge. The Bible doesn’t bind our consciences in this way, and so we shouldn’t do it to one another. We live with this tension all the time in Scripture. Circumstances don’t dictate theology, but yet we all make judgments and decisions based upon them. Women in China—where they forcefully abort your second child– have to decide in wisdom how to apply Scripture’s words.

Since I’m writing here to my dear friends who agree and disagree with me, it is only right that I am honest about my private thoughts. I’ve often wanted God to give me explicit instructions about my hyperemesis. Is it suffering for Jesus or for my own stupidity? What about the children I’m ignoring for almost a year while I’m pregnant? Can I assume they’ll be godly if left to themselves since I’m obeying the fruitful verse? How do I obey the dozens of admonitions to parent well when I’m not parenting during pregnancy? What about the deep darkness that accompanies nonstop vomiting? Does God have a plan for me? What is it? How can I know it? Does He care? How do I live out this tension?

We could play “Battle of the Verses” and sling it out. Or we could humble ourselves, asking God for wisdom in how to live out His Word. We could reason together without condescending. We could love one another, knowing that there really is a trump verse after all.