Just seven years ago, if someone had told me that I'd be writing for Christianity Today magazine about how I came to believe in God, I would have laughed out loud. If there was one thing in which I was completely secure, it was that I would never adhere to any religion—especially to evangelical Christianity, which I held in particular contempt.

I grew up in the Episcopal Church in Alaska, but my belief was superficial and flimsy. It was borrowed from my archaeologist father, who was so brilliant he taught himself to speak and read Russian. When I encountered doubt, I would fall back on the fact that he believed.

Leaning on my father's faith got me through high school. But by college it wasn't enough, especially because as I grew older he began to confide in me his own doubts. What little faith I had couldn't withstand this revelation. From my early 20s on, I would waver between atheism and agnosticism, never coming close to considering that God could be real.

After college I worked as an appointee in the Clinton administration from 1992 to 1998. The White House surrounded me with intellectual people who, if they had any deep faith in God, never expressed it. Later, when I moved to New York, where I worked in Democratic politics, my world became aggressively secular. Everyone I knew was politically left-leaning, and my group of friends was overwhelmingly atheist.

I sometimes hear Christians talk about how terrible life must be for atheists. But our lives were not terrible. Life actually seemed pretty wonderful, filled with opportunity and good conversation and privilege. I know now that it was not as wonderful as it could have been. But you don't know what you don't know. How could I have missed something I didn't think existed?

"I struggle with my temper."

"I wish I was better at taking time to sit down with my child."

"I wish I was more confident."

Sound familiar? Motherhood comes with doubts. From the moment you hold your first baby at the hospital, and wonder if you've got her cradled the right way to the day your child calls from college with all the questions. There is no map. We're raising little humans here, and it is scary. And some days, the only voice in your head is the one screaming, You don't know what you're doing.

Except you do.

The women in this video were asked a simple question -- to describe themselves as mothers. They expressed those concerns listed above. Then, their kids answered. It's likewhen Dove had women listen to what other people remember about their faces, only it's not selling soap and is just about parenting (which really isn't a "just" at all).

Press play. Send it to all the mamas you know. Most importantly, believe it.

Among my top five most frequented issues from pastors is criticism. The number of "bosses" a pastor has is equal to the number of members in the church. Some of those members are very opinionated. And some of those opinionated members are critics of the pastor.

So the common questions I get are:

• How can I deal with critics and criticism?

• How can a pastor get thicker skin without sacrificing a soft and compassionate heart?

Before I offer my suggestions, we must admit the realities of serving as a pastor. First, the nature of the vocation is that the pastor must often make demonstrative statements and definitive decisions. Such is the nature of preaching. Or counseling. Or teaching. Or leading. Those demonstrative statements and actions will inevitably engender opinions and perspectives from others.

Some will agree. Others will not. Some of the latter category will become your critics.

Second, a pastor has a definitive amount of time. Twenty fours in a day. Or 168 hours in a week. Thus the pastor must make time allocation decisions. Some people will not get the attention they think they deserve. It is impossible to meet everyone's expectations. So some of those people will become critics as well.

Simply stated, critics and criticisms are inevitable for the pastor. They will not go away. Our purpose here is to suggest seven ways pastors can deal with them. I think all pastors need a preparatory course in developing thicker skin.