“The last thing I want for you is an inherited faith! I want you to know Jesus.” The words left my mouth effortlessly because they sprung from the core of my mothering philosophy. The conversation’s tone held hints of boldness and passion, but these words wrapped around the angst of my child and led her to comfort. My intention had been clearly spoken: I did not expect her faith to look like mine, but in fact, I wanted nothing more than for it to be her own.

Children are a heritage from the Lord according to Psalm 127. “Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth,” says verse four, but that Psalm says nothing about the torture of releasing those arrows. 

When I took archery in college, my left arm was consistently painted with mulberry, crimson, and celery hues. The bruises, a lingering mark from the kiss of the string’s thwap against my arm that braced the bow. I continued to adjust my grip and check my sights, but still more often than not the release of an arrow came with a twinge of pain that wouldn’t have been so severe if I had braced myself.

As I prepare to let loose my children into God’s plans and purposes for their lives, I find myself needing to walk through the same rhythm—check the sight, adjust the grip, brace yourself.

Check the Sight

The desires I have for my children include fulfilling careers, healthy relationships, and that they would stop getting on my nerves. I know that last one is a bit self-focused, but that is not where I aim my parenting as I prepare to let them fly. The greater desire – that they know they are loved by God, that they would seek to love him back, and that they would love others – is where I focus as I nock their childhood into my influence. I check my sights daily, to make sure I haven’t emotionally shifted my focus from the center to one of the lesser targets. My eyes, my mind, and my heart must stay focused on the goal first and foremost. My children bear witness as I inspect my own sight and ask God to search me for any offensive way. As they observe my daily corrections, I pray they will remember that if they are breathing, it’s never too late to course-correct. It is easy to get distracted in a world begging us to tend to the trivial, but if we instead turn our eyes to the author and perfector of our faith, He’ll give us the strength to persevere on the days when lesser targets look easier to hit and are more appealing.

Adjust the Grip 

The tighter I hold to these souls entrusted to my care the more the tension between us increases. Yes, they are still at a point where God has placed me in their life to guide them spiritually, emotionally, and financially, but with each sign of growth and maturity, I need to adjust my grip of control over their lives. I will teach them to evaluate the choices in front of them; I may advise, but I will let them begin to choose because as adulthood approaches they’ll be making their own choices soon enough. This doesn’t mean I let go completely, but if I fail to cradle them correctly by putting too much emphasis on my grip over their lives, I may not have them positioned to hit the target of authentic faith in Christ.

Authentic faith is often forged by living out the consequences our choices bring, and sometimes that means letting our kids walk through the flames of poor decisions. Hear me clearly, I don’t want my children to suffer. When they are hurting, I ache with them. My instinct is to tighten my grip, but often all that is needed is an adjustment. I can either squeeze and grasp for control of a life that is not my own or I can trust my children to the tender care of Jesus. As I allow them to wrestle with Him, I pray that, like Jacob, this is how they walk away changed and blessed. I hope they don’t have to break to find faith, but if that is where they truly meet Jesus, will I, can I, adjust to want that more than their comfort? 

Brace Yourself

Those long-healed contusions from my archery days could have been avoided if only I had prepared my arm with a bracer. These bracers are intended to protect. They are seen on the arms of Amazon princesses and Olympians. There is no sense in shooting a bow with arms unprotected. There is also no reason to think that we are ready for parenting without being equipped by God. Ephesians opens the doors of God’s armory, including the shield of faith. In faith, we trust God with the choices of our children, the lives of our children, and the deaths of our children. We have to place every bit under his protection; that is what guards us against the snap of the choices they make that are different than we would have designed. Maybe they will choose as we would hope, but if they don’t we are already guarded and assured that God will be our help and protector. So as we pull that first arrow from our quiver and ready it to release, we set our eyes on Jesus, acknowledge that children must differentiate from their parents in order to find God’s purpose, and we beg God to show himself. Once they truly see Him they won’t be able to look away.

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Chara Donahue enjoys freelance writing, biblical counseling, and teaching. She is an educator, holds an MSEd, and is passionate about seeing people set free through God’s truths. She is the host of the podcast The Bible Never Said That and a regular contributor at iBelieve. Her words have appeared at Christianity Today, Crosswalk, (in)courage, and The Huffington Post. She longs to be a voice that says, “Hey we are in this together, and there is room for us all.”