For This House
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
September 29, 2025 | 11 min read
Emily Van Eps
“But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” – Joshua 24:15
Lately, here at For This House, this topic of “influencers” has been weighing on us. In a digital landscape dominated by “buy my course,” “use my code,” and “this product will change your life,” we want you to know exactly what we’re doing—and not doing—and why it matters.
Here’s what I believed in early motherhood: I was nothing but a mom. That was it. My entire identity, worth, and purpose got swallowed up by spit-up stains and sleep schedules. I wasn’t a woman who happened to be a mother—I was just “mom,” and everything else about me disappeared.
The enemy loves this lie because it’s so close to a biblical truth that it’s hard to detect. Yes, motherhood is a high calling. Yes, raising children to know and love God is kingdom work. But when we make motherhood our entire identity, we’re actually diminishing both ourselves and the calling itself.
The culture screams two equally destructive messages at us: either motherhood is everything and you should lose yourself completely in it, or motherhood is holding you back from your “real” purpose, and you need to hustle your way out of it. Both are lies. Both leave us empty and striving.
God didn’t create us to disappear into motherhood, but He also didn’t create us to “have it all and do it all.” He created us for relationship—first with Him, then with others—and for His love and grace to overflow from that relationship into everything we touch.
“She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.” – Proverbs 31:25-26
Notice what this passage doesn’t say. It doesn’t say she’s frantic, overwhelmed, or trying to manage seventeen different income streams while homeschooling and maintaining an Instagram-worthy home. She’s clothed with strength and dignity—not anxiety and performance pressure.
My sisters and I—all hovering around our 30s and each with two small kids at home—started sharing our lives online because we each had different pieces of wisdom we wished we’d received in those early days of motherhood. But here’s what we’re not willing to sacrifice for content:
We’re not posting multiple times a day to chase algorithms. We’re not cranking out blog posts weekly to drive traffic. We’re not optimizing our children’s lives for engagement or turning their precious moments into content opportunities. When the choice comes down to picking up our phones or picking up our kids, we choose our kids every single time.
If that means slower growth, fewer followers, and less “influence,” so be it. We’d rather have integrity than impressive statistics.
This isn’t easy. The temptation to lean into what would perform well is real. We see other accounts growing rapidly because they’re feeding the machine constantly. We know that if we wanted to maximize engagement, we’d be posting multiple times daily across all platforms, creating content calendars weeks in advance, and treating our family life like a content farm.
But we’ve seen what that costs. We’ve watched as the pressure to perform digitally begins to reshape how people actually live. Suddenly, experiences aren’t enjoyed—they’re staged. Conversations with children become content opportunities. Family moments are interrupted by the need to document rather than be present.
We refuse to sacrifice our daily lives for our digital ones.
Here’s what wholehearted faith in motherhood actually means in our houses: We pray before we post. We protect our children’s privacy fiercely. We step away from social media when life gets overwhelming—without guilt, without explanation, without apology.
We share links to products we genuinely use, not because we need the commission but because we remember desperately needing recommendations from women we trusted. We tell stories from our messy, imperfect lives because we remember feeling completely alone in our struggles.
Most importantly, we point our children to Jesus daily—not through perfectly staged quiet times or elaborate Bible activities, but through repentance when we mess up, grace when they mess up, and the constant reminder that our identity comes from Christ, not from being the perfect family.
This looks different in each of our homes, but the heart remains the same: Christ first, family second, everything else third.
But in all of it, we’re not trying to be experts. We’re not selling solutions. We’re sharing our journeys with women who might benefit from knowing they’re not alone in theirs.
“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” – Hebrews 10:24-25
Social media has convinced us that we need to perform our lives instead of live them. That our worth is measured in likes, follows, and how well our content performs. That if we’re not building something, creating something, influencing something, we’re wasting our potential.
It’s all lies.
But here’s what’s even more insidious: social media has convinced us that our value as mothers is tied to how well we can showcase our motherhood. That documenting every milestone, every cute outfit, every educational activity somehow makes us better mothers. That if we’re not inspiring others with our parenting, we’re somehow falling short.
This turns motherhood into a performance instead of a relationship. Our children become props instead of people. Our homes become sets instead of sanctuaries.
God made you for relationship with Him first. Everything else—motherhood, marriage, work, ministry—flows from that relationship. When you try to build your identity on anything else, including how perfectly you can perform motherhood online, you’re building on sand.
You don’t have to document every moment to make it meaningful. You don’t have to monetize every skill to make it valuable. You don’t have to influence thousands to make a difference. Sometimes the most radical thing you can do is put down your phone and be fully present with the people God has placed right in front of you.
The most important audience for your motherhood is not your Instagram followers—it’s your children. The most important approval you need is not from strangers on the internet—it’s from your heavenly Father, who already calls you beloved.
Our slogan isn’t just cute alliteration—it’s a battle cry against every message telling you that you’re not enough as you are, that you need to do more, be more, achieve more to matter.
Culture tells us we need to optimize everything: our productivity, our appearance, our children’s experiences, our home’s aesthetic. It tells us that saying no is selfish and that contentment is settling.
But culture is a liar.
Christ says you’re already enough. Not because of what you do, but because of whose you are.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” – Matthew 11:28-30
This passage destroys the notion that following Christ means endless striving and performing. His yoke is easy. His burden is light. He offers rest to the weary—and friend, if you’re trying to maintain the pace that social media culture demands, you are weary.
When we share from overflow rather than obligation, when we post from genuine desire to encourage rather than need to perform, something beautiful happens. We give others permission to be real too.
We share our lives not to inspire you to live like us, but to point you toward the One who offers rest for your weary soul and grace for your imperfect days. We’re trying to point you toward Jesus, who sees your hidden sacrifices, values your unseen labor, and calls you beloved daughter—not because of your performance, but because of His love.
When your identity is secure in Christ, you don’t need the validation that comes from building an online following. You don’t need to monetize every gift or turn every struggle into content. You’re free to share when you’re led to share, to stay silent when silence serves your family better, and to live your real life without feeling the constant pressure to document it.
That’s the only influence that really matters—pointing people toward the One who offers true rest, authentic purpose, and unshakeable identity.
Lord,
Help us find our worth in You alone. Free us from the need to perform and the pressure to have it all together. Give us wisdom to use technology in ways that serve our families rather than enslave us. Help us rest in Your love and share from that overflow.
Amen.
Emily is a founder of For This House, and the middle sister to Lauren and Ally. She is a graphic design maven by trade, currently living in small-town and staying home with her two beautiful girls. Learn more about Emily.
Emily is a founder of For This House, and the middle sister to Lauren and Ally. She is a graphic design maven by trade, currently living in small-town and staying home with her two beautiful girls. Learn more about Emily.