My kid renounced her faith, here's how I responded (SPOILER: it wasn't by screaming myself horse, though it crossed my mind).

Disclaimer: I always check with my family before I air our business over the internet. I asked Alura if I could share this with you, and she was all like, "I don't care", which is teenager for yes. 

One of the best parts of raising kids is watching and helping them grow. The first step, first word and first romance are just a few of the rewarding times that we parents get to come along side our kids and guide and direct them.

Coincidentally, one of the most difficult parts of raising kids is watching them grow up. There comes a season in every kid's life where they've had a lot of their firsts. It's a time where they begin to want and even need to step out from under our guidance and direction to make their own decisions. Sometimes it's exciting, but the rest of the time it can be flat out terrifying - like the time Alura told Allison and I she's not a Christian anymore.

We were all sitting around, talking about life, and Alura confessed that she felt hesitant to tell us about something she had been thinking and feeling for a while. She said it was kind of a big deal, but she was worried that we'd get mad and judge her for it.

A crash course in fear
Her fear wasn't unfounded. Allison and I will both own up to responding poorly. But we assured her we'd give her our calmest, most nonjudgmental response. So she went on to tell us that she didn't feel like a Christian any more. She had felt that way for some time, but she just felt nervous to tell us. She didn't want us to lecture her, which we also do from time to time.

My first response - fear. I wasn't entirely surprised at what Alura told us. In fact, Allison and I had both suspected it for a while, but there as still that sort of stomach sinking into our feet feeling as the words came out of her mouth. And as I reflect on that conversation, two distinct kinds of fear seem to have been present for me. One kind of fear was pretty justifiable. The other was not. And both kinds of fear were unhealthy. And there's a better way - especially when it comes to this issue.

Fear that you can get away with
 The first kind of fear (the one I call justifiable) is a genuine fear for our daughter's well-being. I mean, even setting aside the whole issue of eternal salvation (which is no small thing), it's scary to think that Alura might reject the moral instruction that we've worked hard to teach her (all of which have been strongly founded in Christianity).

Allison and I don't just teach our kids Bible lessons because we want to come off as super lame. We teach them because, as we look back on our mistakes, biblical principles could have helped us avoid many of them. And after we had both lived lives filled with regrettable mistakes, it was the principles in the Bible that restored us to sanity.

And it's scary for us to think that Alura might gravitate toward some of the same mistakes we made. And even scarier to think that she would be turned away from the principles that restored our lives when we hit rock bottom.

Fear that won't float the boat
The second kind of fear is not able to be justified. Simply put, it's selfishness. It's the fear that shouts, "Tim, if Alura turns away from Jesus, you have failed as a parent. You've failed and you're a failure."

It's a fear that, if I'm being honest, doesn't really care about Alura. It cares about me. When I'm overcome by this fear, I think things like What will people think of me? How will this affect my reputation? Within this fear, there is complete selfishness. And this is the kind of fear that drives me to give my kids lengthy lectures, and hand out consequences that don't make any sense. This fear is not only less justifiable, it's down right evil. And I find it at least a little bit funny that after my daughter renounced her faith, I was the one who had to repent.

We're better off without it
Allison and I get a lot out of our relationship with Jesus. More than just redemption and adoption into God's forever family, we get to submit to his will for our lives. It's a submission that frees us from worry - or, well, it's supposed to.

You see, the problem with fear is that mental and emotional energy is required to fuel it. And every ounce of ourselves that we invest in that fear is removed from submission to Jesus. And if we really believe that, "all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to (Jesus)" (Matt. 28:18), then we have to work to put everything in his hands - even our daughter who has renounced her faith.

It's essential for Allison and I to place Alura (and our other kids) in Jesus' more than capable hands, and trust that he has her right where he wants her. Does that mean we won't pray for her every single day? No!

Does that mean we won't work to be living examples of Jesus perfect love to Alura and our other kids? No, in fact we'll probably work even harder at it.

Our submission to Jesus' will gives us the freedom to accept Alura right where she's at. We can love her, and lead her with no hidden gospel agenda. And ultimately, that's a good thing because she is very much at the stage of life where she has to be making big decisions like these for herself.

Alura is no more or less a part of our family today than she was when she identified herself as a follower of Jesus. The only difference is that today Allison and I know Alura a little bit more honestly. And hopefully we've shown her that she can come to us with stuff like this without worrying as much about being judged.

But what do you think? How does fear play out in your relationships? How would you have dealt with this one? Please leave your thoughts in the comment section below.

Warmly,
Tim & Allison