I was deeply engrossed in a book on missional church leadership when my wife, Aziza, went into labor with our first child. We had experienced weeks of false alarms, and suddenly, the moment we were anticipating had finally arrived.
The delivery was, in many ways, an ordeal. My wife wanted to stay at home during the early labor period. But everything I had learned to help her through the process fell flat. Unknowingly, we waited a little too long at home and rushed to the hospital in the dead of the night. As the hours went by, I listened to her agony in deep distress, knowing there was little I could do to help. There was blood, tears, and a bill that took us months to pay.
The experience was neither convenient nor efficient. And it was certainly not cheap. However, it was the best thing that had ever happened to us. It was so transformative, in fact, that we did it five more times.
As a father of six, I have watched with interest and growing concern as America’s policymakers and media personalities explain the nation’s declining birthrate in purely economic terms. For nearly two decades, the number of births per capita in the United States has dropped. Childlessness is on the rise. And as a result, the nation’s total fertility sits well below its “replacement rate,” the level of fertility needed for a population to replace itself.
In an effort to encourage Americans to have more kids, the Trump administration has been assessing several proposals, including a $5,000 “baby bonus” and a medal for mothers who have six or more children. While nothing like this has ever been done in the US, these ideas are not entirely new. They follow a global pattern seen in countries like France, Japan, and South Korea, all of which have poured billions of dollars into similar initiatives. However, they haven’t moved the needle, and the birthrates in these nations continue to fall.
The problem with these purely financial approaches is that they misunderstand the heart of family formation. While the burdens of housing, childcare, health care, and education certainly affect decisions about childbearing, parenting is not merely about finances. Even as economic pressures ease, raising kids will remain inherently demanding. It calls for sacrifice and commitment, and it’s often inconvenient and time-consuming.
Yet there are deep joys within it that come from the hand of God. As parents, the love we have toward our children offer us a vivid glimpse into the type of love God pours out on us. It’s a powerful expression of our humanity, made in the image of a benevolent creator.
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The historic witness of the Black church illustrates the deep bond between families despite severe pressure. Throughout American history, Black families have been formed and sustained under the harshest of conditions. Family life was never easy in slave plantations or under segregation. Nor was it convenient in economically ravaged urban neighborhoods where many still find their home.
Nevertheless, the Black church continually affirmed the biblical truth that “children are a gift from the Lord” (Ps. 127:3, NLT), recognizing the sacredness of life regardless of social status or a family’s financial stability. The church did not merely protest racial injustice; it also created networks of support, cared for parents in practical ways, and nurtured intergenerational bonds. Among other things, Black congregations provided job training and educational programs and served as spaces of refuge while preaching God’s word forthrightly.
Of course, the Black church’s witness is not without its struggles. Black families have faced internal challenges, such as high rates of out-of-wedlock births, marriage disintegration, and patterns of fatherlessness. But even amid these difficult realities, the church has consistently cast a vision of family rooted in love, community, and faith. It has displayed how strong values can hold up a vision of the family even when conditions are far from ideal. And it can offer vital lessons for other communities increasingly facing the same challenges.
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In my experience, most churches have long understood that families cannot thrive on subsidies alone. Parenting is a moral and spiritual journey that demands a kind of internal power that can’t be cultivated by government policy. Cash and incentives alone won’t inspire lifelong commitments, but love—for God and his image bearers—can.
Taking inspiration from the Black church, the broader church can advance a richer vision of parenthood, one that’s based not on convenience but on covenant. Churches must become communities of intergenerational belonging, modeling how to bear one another’s burdens in both practical and spiritual ways. Our role is not merely to lobby the US or any other government for family-friendly policies (though advocacy matters) but to cultivate within our congregations an authentic culture of care.
So what does this look like in practice? As pastors and church leaders, we must teach and embody a vision of family life that rejects the idea that relationships should only be pursued when they are convenient, pleasurable, and cost-effective. We must honor mothers and fathers, not only on special occasions but also by building support systems like childcare cooperatives, mentorship programs, marriage counseling, and family discipleship initiatives. Most importantly, we should build a habit of praying for every family in our congregation and encourage our flocks to do so as well.
All of this reinforces the biblical vision that every family—and person—matters to God and to the health of our communities. This vision does not ignore economic realities. Instead, it integrates financial support with a deeper level of mutual care that can sustain families even when times are tough.
Policymakers also have a unique opportunity. Instead of replicating flawed pronatalist policies, they can offer financial support while championing broader values of interdependence, mutual sacrifice, and respect for life. If they do, I believe any aid our country provides can become far more effective and meaningful.
As for Aziza and me, we will spend well over $5,000 raising our six children. My wife doesn’t need a presidential medal, but she does deserve unending expressions of gratitude for the sacrifices she’s made as a mother. With six kids running around the house, I may never recover my old reading schedule. But the love we’re building in our family—and with our church community—is well worth it.
Chris Butler is the director of Christian civic formation at the Center for Christianity & Public Life.
