Guiding Grown Kids Toward Truth

Parenting is one of the most rewarding and challenging experiences life has to offer. I think back to the early days of raising my kids and remember how simple it all seemed. When they were little, I set the rules, enforced boundaries, and did my best to shape their character. Back then, it felt like I had control over the outcome, as if molding them the right way would guarantee they’d grow up with the same beliefs and values I held dear. But life has a way of changing our perspective.

As my children grew into young adults, I realized that my role as a parent was changing, whether I was ready for it or not. They started making their own choices, forming their own opinions, and walking paths that sometimes surprised or even worried me. The teenage years brought their fair share of arguments, questions, and a lot of moments that left me feeling uncertain. Then, as they transitioned into adulthood, I realized that my job wasn’t to mold them anymore; it was to walk alongside them as they navigated the world.

That realization was tough. I spent years trying to be the one steering the ship, guiding every step they took, and teaching them what I believed was right. But now, I found myself in a different position—one where I could only offer guidance when they asked for it. It was like standing on the shore and watching them sail into the unknown. I wanted to yell out instructions, warnings, and reminders of everything I taught them, but I knew that wasn’t my place anymore. They had to make their own way, and I had to trust that the seeds I planted in their hearts would take root and grow.

The hardest part was dealing with my regrets. I kept looking back at the missed opportunities, the times when I could have talked about faith but didn’t, or when I let other priorities take the place of spiritual conversations. I regretted not living out my beliefs more consistently in front of them when they were young. I wondered if I had blown my chance to influence them in the ways that mattered most. It’s easy to get stuck in that regret, to feel like there’s no point in trying to guide them now because the formative years are long gone.

But here’s the reality I had to confront: it’s never too late. I may not be able to mold them in the same way I once did, but I can still lead by example. My children are watching, even if they’re not actively seeking my advice. They notice how I handle stress, how I treat others, and how I navigate my own struggles. They see whether my faith is just a set of words or if it actually shapes how I live. And that’s where my opportunity lies—not in telling them what to do, but in showing them what it looks like to live out faith in real, everyday situations.

I had to embrace a new kind of relationship with my kids. They’re adults now, which means they don’t need lectures or a list of rules. They need someone who listens, who respects their ability to make their own choices, and who’s willing to walk with them through their questions and doubts. It’s not always easy. There are moments when I want to jump in, to steer them away from decisions I know could lead to pain. But I’ve learned that part of this journey is allowing them to explore, to make mistakes, and to learn for themselves what they believe and why.

That doesn’t mean I stop speaking truth into their lives. It means I have to do it differently. Instead of giving unsolicited advice, I share my experiences. I tell them what I’ve learned, how I’ve struggled, and how my faith has sustained me in ways nothing else could. I’ve realized that the most powerful testimony I can offer isn’t a well-rehearsed argument but a life that reflects the values I want to pass on to them. When they see me choosing peace over panic, forgiveness over bitterness, and hope over despair, they’re witnessing what faith looks like in action.

I’m also learning the importance of letting go. Letting go doesn’t mean I stop caring or that I withdraw from their lives. It means I release my desire to control every outcome. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I can’t shield them from every difficulty or guide every decision they make. That’s not my role anymore. My job now is to pray for them, to trust that God is at work in their lives, and to be there when they need me. It’s a shift from being the one who molds to being the one who supports, encourages, and leads by example.

This change in dynamic has brought its own set of challenges, but it has also been incredibly freeing. I’ve had to confront my own weaknesses, my own need for control, and my own failures. But in doing so, I’ve discovered that my children don’t need me to be perfect; they need me to be real. They need to see that faith isn’t about having it all together but about relying on God, especially when life gets messy. When I share my struggles, my doubts, and my moments of grace, it gives them permission to be honest about their own journeys.

I’ve also found that some of the most meaningful moments come when I least expect them. It’s often in the quiet, everyday interactions—the quick phone call, the impromptu visit, the casual dinner—where they open up and share what’s really on their hearts. Those are the moments when my role as a listener, a supporter, and an example becomes most evident. It’s not about giving them a sermon; it’s about being present, showing up, and letting them see how faith works in the nitty-gritty of life.

The older I get, the more I realize that leading by example is less about grand gestures and more about daily consistency. It’s the small choices that add up: choosing kindness when it’s easier to be harsh, offering grace when it’s tempting to criticize, and turning to prayer when I feel overwhelmed. It’s in those moments that my children catch a glimpse of what it means to live out the faith I’ve been trying to pass on. They may not always say it, but they’re watching, learning, and taking it all in.

I’ve come to accept that I can’t control the path my children choose to take. They are on their own journeys, each at a different place, with their own questions and struggles. But I can still have an impact. I can still be a light, a source of encouragement, and a steady example of what it means to live a life rooted in faith. I may not be able to mold them anymore, but I can lead them by showing them the way I choose to live, even when life doesn’t go as planned.

And that’s what gives me hope. It’s never too late to lead by example. It’s never too late to be the kind of parent who listens, loves, and lives out the truth in front of their children. I may not get it right all the time, and that’s okay. What matters is that I’m here, that I’m showing up, and that I’m choosing every day to let my life reflect the values I hold dear. And in doing so, I trust that my children will see, learn, and be influenced in ways that words alone could never accomplish.