When I was 19, I came home – emotionally raw and spiritually lost – and told my parents I was a lesbian. I expected disappointment, maybe distance. But they simply said, ‘We know. And we love you.’

It turned out they had known for three years. And for those three years, they had been surrendering their emotions to God – wrestling through grief, fear, confusion, and prayer. By the time I finally came to them, they had their feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace (Ephesians 6:15). They didn’t agree with my choices, but they had already decided: love wouldn’t be taken off the table.

They didn’t agree with my choices, but they had already decided: love wouldn’t be taken off the table.

Their steady, quiet, unwavering love created the space I needed to begin imagining that maybe God’s love worked the same way – even in my sin.

That moment marked the beginning of my return – not just to my parents, but eventually, to God.

In the years that followed, I came to see that all my striving – through romantic relationships with women, achievements, hobbies, substances, even travel – was an attempt to fill the ache inside me. The ache of Eden.

It wasn’t until a near-death experience alone in Ireland that I turned back to God with the tiniest thread of faith – and to my surprise, it stuck.

Eventually, I became a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist and a Clinical Mental Health Counselor. I now run a counseling practice in North Carolina and oversee two nonprofits: Strength in Weakness Ministries and Heart Set Above. Over the past decade, I’ve worked closely with parents of LGBTQ+ children, helping them wrestle through faith, identity, grief, boundaries, and the long road of unconditional love.

This journey is complex. Sacred. Painful. Holy. And often – isolating. Maybe it’s your journey. And maybe you’ve felt alone.

But you’re not alone.

Let’s walk through a few things that might help:

1. Don’t be a slave to guilt

If your child is under 30, they’re likely still forming – neurologically, emotionally, and spiritually. Adulthood isn’t what it used to be. Trials that once shaped early adulthood are often delayed, and as Romans 5 reminds us, character is formed through perseverance, and perseverance through hardship (Romans 5:4-5). But in a world of comfort, character development and spiritual formation can be slow.

This isn’t necessarily the result of poor parenting. I work with faithful, loving parents every day whose children aren’t currently walking with God. You may carry regrets – and that’s okay. Most parents can say two true things:

 ‘I wasn’t perfect’, 

and 

‘I did the best I could with what I had.’

And that’s where peace can live. That’s where a clear conscience can blossom. 

You were not perfect. You definitely made mistakes that undoubtedly affected your kids and probably affected their view of God.  

But, you probably did the best you could with what you had – given the limitations you had at the time: your wounds, your worldview, your theology, your energy, your emotional capacity, your trauma, your sin, your brokenness – your humanity.

There is absolutely room to grieve your past sin or imperfections. But, you don’t need to stay trapped in the guilt of the past. Repent of what you need to and then let your love and God’s love cover over the cracks of your imperfect parenting – just like 1 Peter 4:8 tells us. 

2. Let yourself be seen in your grief

What most Christian parents in this space feel – beneath the confusion and fear – is grief. Specifically, the grief of unmet expectations.

You hoped your child would marry someone of the opposite sex. You imagined shared faith, a similar worldview, less tension in the relationship. But the path looks different now – and that hurts. Hope deferred makes the heart sick (Proverbs 13:12), and invisible grief is often the hardest to carry.

You can’t hold a funeral for lost expectations. No one brings you meals or gives you a day off work. Often, no one even knows you’re grieving.

And with that grief comes a swirl of shame, fear, and confusion:

• ‘What if they won’t be in heaven with me?’
  
• ‘What if I pushed them away?’
  
• ‘What will people at church think?’
  

It helps to name these things. To bring them before God. To feel them fully – not in isolation, but alongside Him. God grieves too. He knows what it’s like to have children turn away. He grieves with you.

And in that grief, what you need most may not be more information to ‘fix’ the perceived problem – but more connection:
 With God.
 With your spouse.
 With community.

Grief doesn’t disappear, but it becomes more bearable when it’s shared.

3. Rest in God’s arms as his child

As your child becomes an adult, your role changes. You no longer have control – but you still carry influence. Not through correction or persuasion, but through example. Through being present. Through quiet, faithful love.

You no longer have control – but you still carry influence.

Your child may crave support more than advice. Respect more than direction. And that requires surrender on your part – not passivity, but deep spiritual engagement. Like a duck gliding on water while paddling furiously beneath the surface, you may look calm – but you are working hard in prayer, trust, and self-restraint.

I once told a client whose daughter had left the faith to pursue a same-sex relationship, ‘You’ve been trying to be your daughter's savior for so long, but she already has one. I think God’s just asking you to come and be his daughter again.’

We can become so focused on being used by God in our child’s life that we skip over our own refinement process. We forget that he’s still parenting us. Return to that identity: You are his child first. Only then – when your heart is surrendered and being shaped by him – can God truly use you in your child’s refinement journey.

4. Embrace the tension of the Messy Middle

This journey doesn’t offer black-and-white answers. Questions like ‘Should I use my child’s preferred pronouns?’ or ‘Should I attend their same-sex wedding?’ don’t come with a chapter-and-verse response. They require deep prayer, wisdom, and a Spirit-shaped conscience.

This is what I call the Messy Middle – where truth and grace are held together in tension. Not to appease culture. Not to impress the church. Not to acquiesce to our children’s requests. But to live with integrity before God.

Ask yourself this:

'Can I stand before the Lord with a clear conscience, confident that I’ve acted in faith with the light He’s given me?'

If the answer is yes – you’re on the right path.

The Messy Middle is a space that allows us to say, ‘I love and respect you – even if I don’t agree with you.’ 

It allows us to accept, even without approving.

5. Speak with both conviction and compassion

Once your heart is anchored in the Messy Middle, here are a few ways to communicate well in that space:

• Get curious. Ask questions first. Listen for the story beneath the labels.
  
  
• ‘Catch the football.’ Reflect back what you’ve heard before sharing your perspective. People can’t ‘catch’ what you’re communicating until they know you’ve ‘caught’ what they’ve said.
  
  
• Validate the need underneath. Even if you disagree with how your child is meeting a need, you can still affirm the longing behind it. Belonging. Love. Identity. It’s like trying to quench thirst with seawater – the method may be harmful, but the thirst is real. See and have compassion for the thirst before expressing your disagreement.
  
  
• Speak truth – without pressure. God invites transformation, but never forces it. Respect your child’s God-given free will. Your job is to be faithful, not forceful.
  
  
• Prioritize relationship over behavior. We’re not calling our children to a life defined by rules – we’re inviting them into a deep, intimate relationship with a loving father. Our ultimate hope isn’t just that they follow God’s commands, but that they fall so in love with him that obedience becomes a joyful response to that relationship. When love leads, transformation follows.
  
  
• Be transparent about your faith – without Bible-thumping. Don’t be ashamed of your beliefs, but don’t shove them down your child’s throat either. Your faith shouldn’t be a surprise to them – it’s part of who you are. Still, the way you share it matters. If your words are fueled by fear or desperation, they’ll likely feel overwhelming or emotionally charged. But when your faith is shared from a place of surrender and peace – rooted in God, not in anxiety– it’s far more likely your child can receive it, even if they don’t agree with your theology.

These aren’t tactics. They’re expressions of a surrendered, Spirit-led heart.

If therapy has taught me anything, it’s this:

You can say all the right things with the wrong heart—and do more harm than good.

But say the wrong thing with the right heart? And connection still has a chance.

It’s out of the overflow of the heart that the mouth speaks (Luke 6:45). So, parents – brothers and sisters in Christ – don’t fixate on finding the perfect words. Focus instead on where your heart is rooted. Anchor it in the Messy Middle – that sacred tension between truth and grace, held in the presence of Jesus. 

The Messy Middle is messy for a reason, though. It requires wrestling with God, weighing biblical principles, and letting the Spirit shape your convictions – even when others don’t understand or approve. You’re standing in a difficult space. But it is also a holy one. And you are not alone in it – Jesus himself walked this path long before you.

6. Remember Capital 'T' Truths

Here are some Capital 'T' Truths to cling to as you walk in this messy space: 

• This is not the end of your child’s story. 
• God loves your child even more than you do.
• He is working tirelessly to woo your child to him, even when you can’t see it. 
• God is not afraid of your child’s wandering. He is grieved by it, yes – but he is not rattled, rushed, or overwhelmed by it.

So, keep your heart soft.

Keep your conscience clear.

God is not finished with your child – or with you.

He meets us in the messy middle. And he can work powerfully through us there.