As a parent, so much of our journey is learning how to hold on and let go. Our children need us to hold on—holding their hand physically as they navigate crossing the parking lot and metaphorically crossing into adolescence. They need the wisdom, strength, and steadiness of us guiding and caring for them throughout their lives. And yet, we also must let go for them to find their way—letting go of the bicycle seat so they can try to balance and pedal alone. We have to let go of controlling every conversation as they find their own way to speak to their teachers or relate with peers. They need us to trust them and believe in them and let go.
This balance can be uncomfortable. Some of us are more naturally bent toward holding on and others more easily let go. Both postures, as a Christian, are possible because we know ultimately that God is a loving Father, and He never lets our children out of His view. He never leaves or forsakes them. And yet, we also know that He is a God who gives us choice and free will.
When a child chooses to veer off the path and rebel, it can be devastating to the parents. There are all kinds of questions, emotions, and inclinations that rise in us. We wonder, Why? How can this be? What can I do to pull her back? Where did we go wrong? We question everything we did and didn’t do in parenting that might have caused their rebellion. We feel a myriad of emotions—despair, fear, panic, regret, self-pity, self-loathing, anger, rage, sadness, and numbness just to name a few. We are inclined to try to do something to force the rebellion out of the child! To rationalize, guilt, bribe, beg, and counsel this unruly lifestyle from them. And while taking action might have some impact, oftentimes it just creates more distance and makes us sick as parents.
I think the posture we must pursue and practice is that of the father in the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Do you remember how the son, at the start of the story, came to his dad and asked for his inheritance now and proceeded to gather up his belongings and head to a far country? It seemed he had no intention of returning or caring for his family. He selfishly wanted to take his money and get out of town. As we look at Luke 15:11-31, we see the father relinquishing the son’s inheritance (without knowing how this would play out, and what personal loss and anguish this would cause him) and letting the son go.
While he was away, living his irresponsible days of squandering his family’s estate, I wonder what his parents were thinking and feeling. How were they dealing with this letting go? But eventually the son hit rock bottom—he was out of money in the middle of a famine and in a desperate time. My analytical brain asks of the passage, How long was he away? What did it take to get him to “come to his senses”? (vs. 17) This is a parable, so there are no answers to these questions. What we do know is that when he came to his senses, the son came home, hoping to simply be a hired worker in his father’s home. But home was where he knew to go.
And as we read the passage and see the father’s posture, we get a picture of how our Heavenly Father approaches us and how we as parents (with God’s grace and strength) should respond to our own children. “But while the son was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion. He ran, threw his arms around his neck and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20) The son said he wasn’t worthy to be called his son because of the sins he had committed. His father’s response was not to teach him a lesson, download all his emotions on his son, or shame/guilt/lecture him. (The rational processing of lessons to teach the child might come later, after the moment of homecoming, but this wasn’t the time.) Rather, he called for the best robe, the ring, the sandals, and the fattened calf to commence a celebratory feast, “because this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” (vs. 24)
Like the father in the parable, we must cultivate a home that our children know they can return to and find a loving, gracious embrace. That home (not without needed boundaries and limits, practically speaking) should be a place that reflects the love of God—a love that they cannot outrun, as Psalm 139:7-12 beautifully expresses.
We can hold out hope—praying, watching, and waiting—all while trusting the God who sees and convicts. We can relinquish our children, not in a way that shuts our children out or closes the door on their return. We let go and seek to live in the present.
If you have a child who is still out there pursuing a wayward path, we hold out hope with you and pray that she will safely find her way back home. May God give us His peace as we hold onto hope together and pray that He draws our lost children back to Him.

Julie Hunt is an Associate Professor of Social Work and Director of Field Education at Belmont University in Nashville, Tennessee. She is wife to Dave Hunt, a worship director and wood worker, and mother to a college aged son and two teenaged daughters. She also enjoys walking, baking, reading, food blogging, thrifting, and enjoying time with friends.