You raised them in church. You prayed over their crib. You taught them to say ‘please,’ ‘thank you,’ and ‘Jesus loves me.’ You worked hard to teach them right from wrong and brought them to church.
But something happened between then and now… your child is far from the innocent baby you cradled all those years ago. Maybe they are far from faith. Maybe they are far from you.
In transparency, I’ve not walked this journey; I pray, as I’m sure you did, that I never will. But my heart is so drawn to the hurting and mamas, daddys, grandparents, I see you (Jesus does, too). I won’t pretend to understand what you’re walking, but I do know the walk and weight of hopelessness. I know the ache of wondering if change will ever come and holding your heart in pieces as you wait. I know what it is to long—deeply—for better days.
In Luke 15:11–32, Jesus shares a parable about a man with two sons. The younger son demands his inheritance early, leaves home, and squanders it all in reckless living. When a severe famine strikes, he finds himself destitute and ashamed, taking work feeding pigs—an act that symbolized the depth of his fall. In his desperation, he decides to return home, not expecting mercy, but simply hoping to be received as a hired servant. But while he is still a long way off, his father sees him, runs to him, embraces him, and restores him—not as a servant, but as a son. A celebration follows, because the one who was lost has been found.
Then the story turns. The older brother, who had remained home and appeared faithful, became angry and refused to join the celebration. Though he never physically left his father, his heart was far away. He was bitter, entitled, and judgmental. In a profound way, he too was a prodigal—just one who got lost while staying home.
The truth of Luke 15 is that this isn’t just a story from long ago. It is not just a fairy tale that Luke threw into his gospel. This father and his sons is a beautiful reflection of how God responds to each of us, and how He eagerly pursues those He loves. It’s also a truthful reminder that those who go astray can, indeed, return home.
When our children, like the two sons in Luke 15, go against the choices we wish they would make, it may be easy to bear the weight of guilt. We replay conversations, question decisions, and grieve the “what ifs.” But Scripture reminds us that even God—the perfect Father—had children who wandered. Adam and Eve had a perfect environment, perfect love, and perfect instruction, and they still chose rebellion (Genesis 3). The fault wasn’t in the parenting, but in the freedom of choice God allows His children to have. Seeds planted in faith from parents and grandparents are never wasted even if the fruit has not yet come. A prodigal’s path may bend, but God’s truth never breaks. Hold on.
It may also be easy to feel like your child is the enemy when anger flares or distance grows. But, Scripture pulls back the veil and shows us the real battlefield. You are not wrestling with flesh and blood, but with spiritual forces bent on destruction (Ephesians 6:12). You’re called not to fix your child, but to fight for them—on your knees. Prayer is not passive, and God has equipped you with armor and authority. Don’t lay that armor down. Battle up, and hold on.
So when we find ourselves waiting—praying, hoping, ashamed, grieving—this story from Luke 15 is more than just a comfort; it gives us a reason to hold on. For those of us who often live in the tension between uncertainty and grace, we can lift our eyes from our heartache in front of us back to our Father. Our Father sees; He knows. And you can trust Him to move Heaven for His sheep that have gone astray.
So, hold on but hold on to what?
Hold on to the unchanging character of Christ (Hebrews 13:8).
Hold on to the nearness of our Lord (Psalm 34:18).
Hold on to the promise of perfect peace (Isaiah 26:3).
Hold on to the God who does not leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5).
Hold on to the certainty that nothing is impossible with God (Luke 1:37).
Hold on to the ways that are higher than our own (Isaiah 55:8).
Hold on to the assurance that you belong to Him and so does your wayward baby (Isaiah 43:1-3).
Hold on to the divine weapons Christ has given us to use in our fight (Ephesians 6:11-18).
Hold on to the One who holds all things together even when we don’t see (Colossians 1:17).
God loves our children more than we do. He longs to see His sons and daughters restored to the love, faith, and peace they once knew. So even if you do not see the end of the story, it does not mean that the Author has laid down the pen. The war is with the enemy of our souls, and, friends, Christ will prevail. Just hold on.
So Will I 