They used to pray for everyone they knew by name with sleepy voices at bedtime, eyes squeezed shut, hands clasped, racking their brains for just one more friend, neighbor, or pet to pop into their minds (it was both a stall tactic and a desire to remember everyone they loved). They memorized Psalm 23 before they could ride their bikes. They came home on Sundays after Kids Club, singing the songs they’d learned on repeat in high-pitched, squeaky voices, belted out from the back seat.
Now? Their Spotify playlists echo a different rhythm—less worship, more of whatever’s trending. Their questions about faith have stopped, replaced by frustrated complaints about Christian Nationalism and hypocrisy amongst believers in Jesus. Their church attendance is reserved for Christmas Eve and maybe Mother’s Day, if I’m lucky. (Spoiler alert, this year I was NOT lucky.)
My kids, who once loved Jesus with a childlike faith, have grown up, walked out into the world, and somehow lost their taste for Sunday mornings and Gospel truth. And as their mom, I won’t pretend it doesn’t break my heart in ways only God understands.
What To Do When Your Child Turns Away From God
It’s so hard to watch other parents at church sitting beside their children, worshiping as families. They have a kind of joy that we long for, and I confess, sometimes jealousy creeps in. Not out of bitterness toward them, but because we ache for that same nearness, that same fruit in our own family. It can feel like we’re standing on the outskirts, forgotten, alone.
My husband and I carry this grief quietly, but it’s heavy. We’ve spent time asking ourselves what we could have done better or not done at all. Did we ask them to volunteer too much? Did the group we hosted weekly in our home feel too invasive to them? Did something or someone turn them off? Or is this just the way Jesus is walking with them, despite our fears and on a timeline different from our own?
Through it all, I’ve cried more prayers than I’ve spoken, wrestled with God like Jacob (except my hip still works on most days), and am often beaten down emotionally. Sometimes, a lot of the time, I just want to fake a smile, shrug it all off, and act as if everything is normal.
But my husband and I are choosing the hard path—staying present in the pain, rather than avoiding it—as we walk with our kids who have stepped away from their faith. We’re praying for them, making space to really listen, and doing our best to stay connected in love and truth. It would be more comfortable to pretend everything’s fine, to quietly let our own faith fade, or to explain it all away by blaming the failures of organized religion (some days, it’s an easy target).
Instead, we’re choosing patience and trust, believing that showing up with compassion and conviction is worth it. Loving our kids well, without giving up on them or the faith we hold dear, may be the more challenging road, but we also believe it’s the right one.
No matter what, I’m not giving up. Not on them. Not on Jesus. In this season, I’m focusing on the few things I can control—believe it or not, there are some—and letting go of the rest. I’m not coping, numbing, or ignoring. What am I doing instead? If you’re wondering what to do when your child turns away from God, here’s what my experience has been.
I’m clinging to truth, devoting to prayer, and loving through it all.
1. Cling To Truth
“…his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.” (Psalm 1:2).
Parenting isn’t a praise and worship playlist. Just because you hit ‘play’ on Bible stories, youth group, and summer camp doesn’t mean your kid will sing in tune with Jesus by Track #11. I know this—I know it’s not personal. It’s their life. But it still hurts, and I need hope often.
I often find myself clinging to the words of Proverbs 22:6 (KJV):
“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.”
Now, I know that’s a proverb, not a guarantee—but you better believe I’m clinging to it like a lifeboat in a storm. I remind myself that all the moments of growth and joy in Jesus that my kids experienced may be hidden at the moment, but they have not been eradicated. We planted seeds and saw fruit. Today, that soil is dry, but who knows what will come in future seasons?
It’s simple to believe in a Prosperity Gospel-type of parenting—that if you do everything “right, “ you’ll end up with kids following Jesus and inviting all their friends along, too. It’s also easy to hold on to fear, doubt, and remorse when that doesn’t happen. The enemy would love for me to believe we did something wrong or that our parenting is to blame.
And sometimes, I wonder if other parents may think that about us, too. I even find myself looking for someone to point a finger at when I hit that anger stage of grief and want to blame someone.
Was it the mean girl who terrorized my daughter in high school—the one who wore a WWJD bracelet and a gold cross around her neck? Was it the kid at youth group who called my son and his friends “weird” because they liked band and anime more than playing sports and being popular? While they may not have helped reflect Jesus, they are not my enemy.
For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. (Ephesians 6:12)
The truth is, my husband and I have always longed for our kids to have a faith of their own, not one simply handed down or borrowed from us. We want them to reach out to Jesus when they recognize their need for a Savior, to understand that he died for their sins, and that they are forgiven, deeply loved, and made whole every day through him. It’s not that God needs to pursue them according to my timeline—it’s that I need to surrender my timeline to his.
2. Devote To Prayer
Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving. (Colossians 4:2)
In addition to clinging to God’s word, we’ve prioritized praying for our kids. If God acts and moves at times according to prayer (like here, here, and here), and tells us to essentially annoy him with requests, then I’m using up all the free airwaves I can.
So, I pray when I end every phone call with my kids. I pray when I eat at a restaurant I know they love. I pray when I pass the church where they used to volunteer. We have close friends we lament with, who are praying the same prayers, for our kids and their own.
And I pray knowing this: God loves them even more than I do. While that’s hard to believe at times (like when you’re catching their vomit with your bare hands or letting them use your shirt as a tissue), that’s not just poetic sentiment. That’s Romans 5:8 truth:
“But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
If Jesus went all the way to the cross while we were still a hot mess, I trust he can reach my kids wherever they are. Whether they’re deconstructing, doubting, or just spiritually napping, Jesus is still a good father who knows them and has a place for them at the table.
3. Love Through It All
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:1-3)
Love was Jesus’ most powerful influence. Why try to reinvent the wheel?
I know it’s not my “job” to defend my faith or make excuses for Christians who are hateful or judgmental. It’s my job to love my kids and look more like Jesus to them. This means focusing on our relationship, not my agenda to bring them back to Christ. That only happens through connection—over dinner, a long phone call, spending time doing things they enjoy, and I enjoy doing with them. It shows them how much I delight in them for who they are, not who I hope they’ll be spiritually.
I desire to know my kids fully. That requires connection. And connection builds trust. One of the best ways I’m able to understand where or why they’re struggling with faith is by asking questions. That means listening well, trying to understand their view better, and biting my tongue when the desire to persuade kicks in.
It also means being humble when they point out some big flaws with Christian culture. When they discuss the hypocrisy or judgment they’ve witnessed or experienced at the hands of Christians, I understand. I’m able to respond by saying things like, “You’re right, some Christians have done a lot of harm, and it breaks my heart, too,” or “I agree, I don’t believe Jesus would treat someone like that either.”
Building real trust and connection with my kids has opened the door to honest, meaningful conversations, especially when I’m willing to be vulnerable about my own story. It’s not always easy to open up, but it’s absolutely worth it. I get to share how my faith has carried me through grief, disappointment, loneliness, fear, regret—even shame. And honestly, showing them where Jesus has met me in the mess of it all speaks so much louder than any theological debate ever could.
I’ve learned how important it is to keep showing our kids, loud and clear, that our love for them isn’t going anywhere. Not now, not ever. Our door (and fridge) are always open. This isn’t about having the perfect theological comeback or dragging them to church; it’s about being the kind of home they want to come back to. It’s about showing up with love, listening more than I lecture, and remembering that sometimes grace just means having their favorite snacks on hand and resisting the urge to turn every conversation into a surprise sermon.
What To Do When Your Child Turns Away From God: Setting A Place At The Table
Jesus told that one story of the prodigal son for a reason, didn’t he? In short (and paraphrased), a son flips off his father and wishes he were dead, takes his inheritance early, and blows it on wild living. When he is in need, he rehearses an apology and starts the long trek home.
That father didn’t chase his son into the far country, but he sure watched the road. He kept the porch light on. He practiced forgiveness before the kid ever came home. He was ready. And I think Jesus meant for us mamas (and all parents) to hear that story with tears in our eyes and hope in our hearts.
So here I am, still watching the road. Still answering the phone when they call with an emotional crisis, still offering grace and a listening ear, still praying that one day—this side of heaven—they’ll come running home. (And let’s be honest, home-cooked food and free laundry usually help with that.)
I may not get to witness their return. I hope I do. I ask for that joy every day. But even if I don’t see it this side of heaven, I trust the One who never stops working. And if their story includes wandering, I’m praying it also includes a U-turn.
Meanwhile, I’ll be here—Bible open, fridge full of favorites, and arms open wide—ready to welcome them back with a party and a great playlist. Because if the prodigal comes home, I’m not just roasting the fatted calf. I’m booking a taco truck, hanging a piñata, and buying sombreros for everyone.
Until then, I wait in faith and keep setting the table. Because faith is being sure of what we hope for—even when that hope has moved two hours away and doesn’t answer texts on weekends.
Disclaimer: This article is 100% human-generated.
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At Crossroads, we major on the majors and minor on the minors. We welcome a diverse community of people who all agree that Jesus is Lord and Savior, even if they view minor theological and faith topics in different ways based on their unique experiences. Our various authors embody that principle, and we approach you, our reader, in the same fashion. You don’t have to agree with every detail of any article you see here to be part of this community or pursue faith. Chances are even our whole staff doesn’t even agree with every detail of what you just read. We are okay with that tension. And we think God is okay with that, too. The foundation of everything we do is a conviction that the Bible is true and that accepting Jesus is who he said he is leads to a healthy life of purpose and adventure—and eternal life with God.
