October 13
Faith in a World
That Pulls Away
"The commandments I give you today must be in your hearts. Make sure your children learn them.
Talk about them when you are at home. Talk about them when you walk along the road.
Speak about them when you go to bed. And speak about them when you get up."
Deuteronomy 6:6-7 (NIrV)
Zoey sat in the dim light of the living room, her hands wrapped tightly around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. Upstairs, her son Samual was in his room, the sound of music leaking through the door—angry, pulsing beats that made her stomach twist.
She had always tried to raise him in the faith, reading Bible stories at bedtime when he was little, praying over him before school, taking him to church every Sunday. But now, at fifteen, Samual was slipping away. The world was louder. Social media, his friends, the things he saw in school—they all told him that faith was outdated, that God was a fairytale for weak people.
Tonight had been another fight. He had rolled his eyes when she asked if he wanted to pray before dinner. “Why does everything have to be about God?” he had muttered, pushing his plate away. Then came the final blow: “I don’t even know if I believe anymore.”
Zoey’s heart had cracked wide open.
And then there was her daughter, Sophie. Eleven years old, still young enough to hold onto faith—but Zoey saw the pressure even on her. At school, kids mocked her for saying she believed in Jesus. A friend had told her last week that Christianity was “too strict” and that God’s rules were “unfair.” Zoey had tried to comfort her, but how could she compete with a world that seemed determined to pull her children away from God?
Tears welled up in her eyes. She felt like she was failing.
She set the tea down and buried her face in her hands. God, I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m losing them. Please… help me.
A verse came to her mind—one she had memorized long ago. Make sure your children learn them… Talk about them when you are at home…
She inhaled shakily. Maybe she had been focusing too much on convincing Samual instead of living her faith in a way that drew him in. Maybe she needed to stop arguing and start praying harder. Maybe she needed to let him see Christ in her love, her patience, her unwavering hope.
She wiped her tears, stood up, and walked to Samual’s room. She knocked lightly.
“What?” came the muffled response.
She hesitated, then opened the door. He was sitting on his bed, scrolling on his phone.
“I just wanted to say… I love you. No matter what, okay? And I’m praying for you. I always will.”
Samual looked up, surprised. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. But then he nodded. “Okay,” he mumbled. It wasn’t much. But it was enough.
She turned off the light in the hallway, her heart still heavy—but now, there was hope. She would keep talking about God, not in forceful arguments but in the quiet, persistent love of a mother who refused to give up.
Because no matter how loud the world got, God was louder.
Prayer:
Heavenly Father,
Raising children in this world feels overwhelming.
The voices around them try to drown out Your truth, and I feel powerless at times.
But I know You are greater than this world. Help me to be a light in my home, to speak Your truth in love, and to trust that You are working in my children’s hearts even when I can’t see it.
Give me wisdom, patience, and strength to guide them in faith, and remind me that You love them even more than I do.
In Jesus' name, Amen.
