We got the call on June 26, 2021, that TLC was canceling Counting On. When the call ended, I wrapped my arms around Jeremy and cried. Hard. So many emotions poured out of me that day.
I felt sad. Filming had been a constant in my life since I was around ten years old. When the show was on break and the crews didn’t come around for a few months, I missed the energy and excitement of interacting with all the creative people. The producers worked with my family to come up with ideas for episodes. It was fun to think of creative ways to give audiences a glimpse into our day-to-day lives.
I didn’t mind when the filming complicated my routine. At least once, a camera crew burst into my bedroom early in the morning, not knowing that I was still in bed (because no one could keep track of where all the Duggar kids were). As they set up for an interview or film session, I had to clear my throat or say an awkward hello to let them know I was hiding under the covers. They apologized sheepishly and scrambled to the door. If the cameras were rolling, I couldn’t always read where I liked or walk down hallways at certain times because it would interfere with a shot. Maybe I had to come up with something to say during an interview or take a few crew members with me when I went on an errand.
Moments like that probably would have been annoying or embarrassing if I didn’t have such great relationships with the crew. Many had filmed our family through all ten seasons of 19 Kids and Counting, then every episode of Counting On. All those years on television provided job security for the film crew, and they became lifelong friends for us. One crew member, Scott, started working on the show as a cameraman. He filmed me on day one, when I was just ten years old. After several years behind the camera, documenting some of the biggest moments of my family’s life, he became a producer on the show in 2015. Scott was there for the early days of my relationship with Jeremy. He captured our wedding for the show. He even came along with Jeremy and me to Australia for our honeymoon. In fact, when we were trying to decide where to go for our honeymoon, we asked Scott for a recommendation. He said Australia because it was the only continent he’d never been to. So that’s where we went. Having him and the rest of the crew in Australia with us didn’t ruin our trip. They gave us space and privacy when we asked. They truly were the best part of filming both shows, and not seeing them on a regular basis is the saddest part of no longer producing episodes.
Alongside sadness that the show was ending, I felt grateful to have been a part of it. I had countless wonderful experiences thanks to the show. When the cameras were around, you never knew what the producers were going to suggest. Skydiving. Eating exotic foods. Traveling to another city. My parents couldn’t have afforded to take the entire family across the country several times a year, much less overseas. There are dozens of places and cultures I wouldn’t know anything about if not for the show.
Growing up on television taught me so much about production, content creation, and filming. I was allowed to share ideas with producers. I could recommend story lines and discussion topics.
I’m still surprised the show lasted as long as it did. In the early years, my family assumed the show would last no more than a season or two. It didn’t seem possible that that many Americans would be interested in a family with our conservative values. Yet each year, TLC renewed the show. For most of my life, that wasn’t a burden. But even though I enjoyed being part of the show, I was also glad it was ending. In fact, I felt immense relief on that day in June 2021.
For more than a year, Jeremy and I had felt it was time to step away—not only for ourselves but for our children, Felicity and Evangeline. We didn’t want our daughters to grow up on TV. We wanted to raise them out of the public spotlight. At their age, they don’t get to choose to be part of a television show. We didn’t think it was fair to make that choice for them. For all the wonderful experiences I had on the show, there were also difficult parts I couldn’t have imagined when I was ten years old. When I walk out the front door of my house in Los Angeles, there are sometimes photographers waiting to take pictures of me that they can sell to the tabloids. I wish this didn’t happen, but I can’t stop it. All I can do is smile, try to be polite, and go about my day.
Being on television, especially a show that celebrates conservative biblical values, also gives people license to criticize you for moral failures, big or small. In the case of my brother Josh, the fall has been even more devastating because he claimed to be a man of Christian conviction. The backlash against his actions has been, correctly, severe. Even if he weren’t a public figure, he would still be in prison for his actions. But because millions know who Josh is, his sin gives Christ a bad name. Those who oppose Christianity can point to Josh as evidence that anyone who claims to walk with Jesus is a phony.
When I was younger, I didn’t understand the possibility of all that criticism. I don’t think anyone in my family did. We weren’t familiar with celebrity culture and the way people both admire and criticize television and movie stars. My parents had the best intentions when they committed to the documentaries and then the show on TLC. They wanted to show the world a positive, wholesome family that put God at the center of their lives. It was impossible to predict how popular the show would become and everything that would go along with it, including how being on television can turn life into a performance. I think it’s good for me to be away from that mindset.
Finally, I felt a mix of anticipation and excitement when TLC canceled Counting On. In many ways, the show’s end was the last leg of a journey that ten-year-old me could not have dreamed would occupy so much of my life. I could hardly remember what it was like to not be on television. So many of life’s big moments had happened on the show. I’d grown from a little girl to a young adult to a married woman to a mother. I’d gone from Arkansas, the only home I’d ever known, to Texas, and then to Los Angeles. I’d become a Christian, then a pastor’s wife. So much of my identity was connected to the show. It had consumed much of my time and focus. Some weeks when I still lived in Arkansas, we would film almost every weekday. With the travel and interviews required to film Counting On, the show had a tendency to crowd out other interests and priorities. Although filming had slowed down since Jeremy and I moved to California, now that it was completely gone, there was going to be plenty of time added to the calendar. I was looking forward to the future.
What does my life look like today?
These days my life is filled with relationships. Instead of talking to millions of people through a camera, I’m talking to one or two at a time in my living room. Many members of my family have visited from Arkansas. I love showing them around Los Angeles and taking them to our church. Jeremy’s parents often visit from Pennsylvania. People I couldn’t have imagined being friends with a decade ago now spend the night at my house. That includes musicians who stay at our house whenever they visit Los Angeles. They get a kick out of how unfamiliar I am with popular music. Pastors and Christian leaders come over for dinner and stay late into the night, filling our home with conversations about God and the Bible.
Since Jeremy and I serve in college ministry, hardly a week goes by that we don’t have students in our home. Most of these young people have no idea who my family is. They don’t expect my house to be perfectly clean or notice if my children cry. Instead, they sit on our couch and share their hopes and dreams, their problems and joys.
At first, this kind of honesty was hard for me to understand. When we lived in Laredo, Jeremy and I were once speaking with a pastor friend of ours. I was struck by his honesty and his willingness to be open with us. He wasn’t afraid to talk about his weaknesses. It was an encouraging conversation. I realized that I needed to be more like our friend: honest, willing to ask for prayer. I’m learning that the church should be full of that kind of honesty. We are all broken, sinful, and in desperate need of grace. As Pauline Phillips said, “A church is not a museum for saints—it’s a hospital for sinners.”1 Asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength.
Not long ago, my friend Merilly Duncan, a godly woman at our church who is married to our college pastor, Austin, came over for a visit. At the time, I was going through a season of serious discouragement. Our daughter Evangeline was less than a year old, and I think I may have been struggling with postpartum depression. In the past, I would have smiled and told everyone I was fine while burying my weaknesses. But this time, I managed to share what I was feeling, and I’m so glad I did. Merilly was not only encouraging (and not at all surprised by what I was going through) but also able to share practical tips to help me navigate that season.
I still tend to keep my struggles to myself. I don’t like to burden others with what I’m feeling. But I’m learning that in the body of Christ, the church, I’m serving others by sharing my life, even the messy parts. Honesty binds us together and brings the kind of unity the Bible talks about.
Though I would have always said church was important, and I attended every week, I didn’t truly cherish the local church until I lived in Laredo, then Los Angeles. Today, my pastor’s weekly teaching is life-giving, not soul-crushing. Each week I leave with a better understanding of what the Bible means and a bigger view of God’s character.
One Sunday not too long ago, Austin Duncan preached a sermon titled “Are You Stricter than Jesus?”2 The title alone was convicting. In Mark 9:38–42, Jesus’ disciple John saw someone casting out demons in the name of Jesus and told this man to stop because he wasn’t one of Jesus’ disciples. John made up a rule: only Jesus’ disciples could cast out demons. That might seem right. Why would anyone not connected to Jesus get to use His name to do something so powerful? But Jesus didn’t agree with John’s rule. He had no problem with this man casting out demons in His name. Likewise, Austin warned Christians not to come up with rules that aren’t in the Bible. He told us not to believe we are following God when we are really following a man-made standard.
Today, I’m still trying to disentangle those man-made standards from what the Bible teaches. I still have feelings of guilt when I don’t read the Bible as much as I think I should. Though I try to read every morning, that doesn’t always happen. A child will wake up earlier than expected, or I will sleep a little longer than I planned. My mind is prone to wander while I read. I’m tempted to pick up my phone when I should be focused on the text. In those times, when guilt wants to rise in my soul and condemn me, I remind myself that the Bible doesn’t tell me how much I’m supposed to read it. It does tell me to love it, understand it, and believe it. By not condemning myself when I miss a morning, I’m no longer being stricter than Jesus. The same applies to other areas, like clothes, entertainment, and relationships. The body of Christ is helping me untangle the man-made standards and embrace God’s truth.
This season of life, one focused on investing in the church and continuing this lifelong project of disentangling my faith, is in many ways defined by our daughters. They are my number one priority. The days can sometimes be messy and exhausting. My house is rarely as clean as I’d like it to be, and there are lots of days I never make it out of the house or even out of sweats. Yet I know this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Being a parent has taught me many profound lessons about the Lord’s love and care. I love my girls so much and will do anything to protect and provide for them. Yet as much as I love them, my love doesn’t compare to God’s great love for them. When thinking about God’s love, I often go back to Matthew 7:7–11. Few passages of the Bible are more encouraging than this:
Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!
I want my daughters to know that God will generously love them.
I not only want to always be there for my children, loving and sacrificing for them, but I also want to help them put fear in its proper place. I want them to trust God. If they are going to live with more faith than fear, they need to have a right view of God. I want to help them learn who He is and why they should trust Him.
Not long ago, Felicity asked me, “Does God see everything I do?” I had to fight back tears. I probably asked my mom a few questions like that when I was four years old like Felicity. While I don’t know exactly what my daughter was thinking at that moment, I know she was curious about what God is like and what that means for her. At that moment, I felt the weight of responsibility. I wanted to make sure my answer didn’t cause my daughter to be afraid of God and forget that He is love (1 John 4:8). At the same time, God does see everything, and He hates sin. Try explaining that to a four-year-old! It’s not always easy to explain big theological truths to children. But it’s important if I want to be faithful to the truth and help my children avoid the same fear and misunderstanding that I used to experience.
In the coming years, when Felicity and Evangeline ask me and Jeremy questions like, “How powerful is God? Does He love me? Does He get mad at me when I disobey? Does He like me?” I pray we will point them to what the Bible says about God and encourage them to draw near to Him.
Over the past year, I’ve spent a lot of late nights at my computer writing this book. Many of those nights, one of the girls would wake up because of a bad dream. Evangeline—our two-year-old—likes to move around a lot, and sometimes she will wake herself up. She’s even gotten her foot caught in the crib a few times. In those moments, I’ve needed to stop writing and start caring for my girls. There have been moments of complete exhaustion that have required all my strength and endurance. As Jeremy or I, or both of us, lay with our girls and comfort them, I try to think about God’s care for me. Despite my weaknesses, He is patient with me. Through all the mistakes I’ve made, He’s continued to love me. I want to model that patience and love with my girls. Right now, that means I have to be willing to be interrupted, even with writing deadlines, and I have to be willing to lose a lot of sleep! In the coming years, it will mean I’ll have to listen more as my girls tell me about their fears and hopes, dreams and anxieties. And one day, it will mean I let go as they start their own families. No matter what stage my girls are in, I want them to know one thing: the love I have for them will never stop. And it can hardly compare to the love God has for them.
As I reflect on my journey over the past decade, part of me is amazed that I am holding tightly to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Many of my peers who grew up under Gothard’s teaching, or another strict religious system, want nothing to do with Christianity. For years, they invested all their hopes in man-made rules. Despite all that, they still discovered, as I did, that those rules could never restrain their sinful hearts.
When they didn’t experience the blessed life Gothard promised, when they struggled with purity, anxiety, and doubt, they questioned his rules. They saw the hypocrisy. They were close with people who said they loved Jesus but then behaved as if they didn’t know Him. This tore their faith down to the studs, and they never built it back up with the truth. Instead, they abandoned all religion. There’s a sense in which this is the easy route. It’s less work to abandon the house once you’ve torn it down than to lay another foundation and build it again, brick by brick. I can imagine a world where I abandoned Christianity entirely and instead built a new life from my desires. But that didn’t happen because Jesus saved me. His love compelled me to keep trusting Him. I wish my friends knew that same love.
Speaking of His people, Jesus said, “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand” (John 10:28–29). I follow Jesus today because He has placed me in His hand, and He will not let me go. He has set His love on me, and He has said, “I WILL NEVER DESERT YOU, NOR WILL I EVER FORSAKE YOU” (Hebrews 13:5 NASB1995). I cannot give up on Christianity because Christ will not give up on me.
Perhaps you are reading this book and you are not a Christian. Maybe you reject the strict, conservative religious community that raised you, and you picked up this book hoping I was going to tell you that I had turned my back on my faith. You were imagining a story of enlightenment: a religious girl raised to always wear skirts and never kiss boys became an atheist or agnostic and now believes the Bible is nothing more than a collection of fairy tales. Sorry to disappoint you. That’s not my story.
My faith is as strong as it’s ever been—not because Christianity tells me the right way to live or unlocks some “key to success” but because I can find no one more compelling, more lovely, more hopeful than Jesus.
When I look at the man-made rules I put so much hope in when I was young, I see only emptiness. More emptiness and hopelessness would have greeted me if I turned to the world, just as they’ve greeted so many who have gone down that path. There is only one place to turn for the kind of hope that never fails: Jesus Christ.
I can’t leave Christianity because only there can I find Christ. He is worth it. If you’ve left man-made religion, don’t replace it with a religion of your own choosing. Replace it with a person. Jesus. He is all that’s left—and all I will ever need—at the end of my story of disentanglement.