While driving my daughter and a friend home from a school activity, I heard them strike up a conversation about faith. One of them shared that she had invited a girl to Bible study, but that girl had declined because she “doesn’t attend church.” The reason, she explained, was that her mom had been forced to go as a child and didn’t want to repeat that experience for her child. Her mom believed the more loving approach was to let her daughter choose for herself without pressure or expectation.
From the front seat, I listened quietly. It struck me how thoughtful and sincere the reasoning sounded coming from two thirteen-year-olds. And if I’m honest, I also felt the tension. So I asked my daughter what she thought. “Church has always been part of my life,” she said. “It’s just what we do.” She said she’s curious about God, and she genuinely enjoys being there most of the time. But I knew the fuller picture.
There have been plenty of Sundays (and Wednesday nights too) when she resisted attending youth group. Sometimes my kids are tired, navigating awkward social dynamics, or just don’t feel like going. Which brings me back to the question that lingered after that car ride: What does it look like to shepherd a child’s faith? Is removing expectation really the most loving approach? Or does letting them choose their own way quietly remove formation altogether?
Is Letting Kids Choose the Right Way?
There’s no doubt that the desire behind “letting kids choose” often comes from a good place. Many parents want to avoid raising resentful or disconnected children. They’ve seen what happens when faith becomes rules without relationship, attendance without understanding, or behavior without belief. This instinct matters because forcing external compliance without engaging the heart can miss Jesus’ beauty and kindness altogether. It can produce kids who know how to show up but don’t know why it matters.
But there’s another side to prioritizing faith that we don’t always say out loud: Children don’t naturally choose what they’ve never been meaningfully shown. The adage says, “It must be caught, not taught.” We don’t apply a “hands-off, let them decide” approach to most areas of life that we believe are important. We teach our children to read, say thank you, tell the truth, or show up for school or commitments even when they don’t feel like it. That’s not forcing; we call it parenting. And faith is no different.
We cannot force belief, but we are called to faithfully form—to create rhythms, patterns, and environments where faith is not just an abstract idea but a lived reality. To encourage intentional formation in our homes, here are three ideas to consider.
Faith Is Formed in the Everyday
Scripture paints this picture clearly:
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates” (Deut. 6:5-).
In other words, faith is not meant to be an occasional event; it is meant to be woven into the fabric of everyday life.
For my family, this sometimes looks like talking more to my kids about my own struggles and inner conflicts. Many parents don’t humanize themselves to their kids. If I am struggling over a decision, I often try to bring my kids into it. I want them to know that I value commitments while also leaving room to rest and reset. When my daughter doesn’t want to go to youth group because her best friend is not going, we can cast a vision bigger than her momentary feelings. Talking about the tension will foster a sense of responsibility in upholding her membership commitment to the church when she is able.
Formation often looks less dramatic than we expect. It happens in dinner table conversations, car rides, apologies, prayers before school, serving others, and the quiet consistency of returning to truth repeatedly through discipline and routine.
Shepherd the Heart, Not Just the Behavior
Formation happens through steady rhythm. That rhythm often reveals resistance. Even in a home where church has always been part of our family life, my kids still push back at times. I’ve had to learn not to interpret that resistance as failure—either theirs or mine. Resistance doesn’t mean they are rejecting faith. It usually just means they are human. They could be tired or navigating friendships. They are constantly growing in independence, as they should. The way we navigate these nuanced ideas with them helps them figure out what they believe and why.
Scripture speaks to this kind of formation in a way that reframes how we often view discomfort and resistance. The author of Hebrews writes: “God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it” (Heb. 12:10–11).
The deeper work is not correcting the outward resistance first, but helping a child name the fears, insecurities, disappointments, or desires underneath. Formation is rarely immediate, and it is never effortless. The very things that feel inconvenient, resisted, or even frustrating in the moment are often the exact places where children are shaped over time. That is why a parent’s role is less about enforcing attendance and more about shepherding a heart.
Presence Over Passivity
Shepherding requires attentiveness, which, first and foremost, means we must be consistently abiding in Jesus ourselves. Only then can we discern what is best. It means recognizing when a child genuinely needs rest or space and responding with care. There are moments when skipping church or youth group is the most loving decision—not because it does not matter, but because the child in front of you matters more than the schedule.
But shepherding also requires direction. When occasional absence quietly becomes a new rhythm, we lose something. Not just attendance, but participation in community, teaching, and worship. These are the consistent, often ordinary moments in which faith takes root over time.
So we hold both truths: We stay responsive without becoming passive; we acknowledge our children’s feelings without allowing those feelings to dictate every decision; and most importantly, we keep engaging the conversation.
When our kids do not want to go, we neither force nor disengage. We talk about it; we ask questions; we remind them they are part of the church body; and we connect church not just to obligation, but to meaning. And we help them understand that faith is not built on feelings. Because the truth is, we do not wait for the right feelings to show up before we show up. We bring our feelings with us. Whether we are tired, frustrated, distracted, or even reluctant, we trust that God meets us there. Like a slow drip of water on rock over time, it leaves a mark and even changes the surface.
Trusting God With the Outcomes
When I reflect back on the car ride conversation with my daughter, I’m grateful that she did not seem resentful about having a different path than her friend. It’s a small reminder that God is at work refining the hearts in my home beyond my best or worst efforts. He is lovingly pursuing my daughter and me. He longs to guide us to holiness.
I cannot predict what my children will believe ten or twenty years from now. I cannot manufacture conviction or guarantee that the seeds we are planting will grow in the way I hope. But I do believe this: Stepping back from forming their faith does not increase the likelihood that they will develop a meaningful relationship with God. It decreases their opportunity to encounter him in the first place.
We must keep this truth in front of us as we walk with our children. Even the most difficult or unwanted circumstances can be transformed when they are met with love, obedience, and trust. What looks like resistance or struggle on the surface can, over time, become the very thing that shapes their hearts.
As parents, we often want to smooth the path or wait until our children feel ready. But growth rarely comes from ease. It comes through the ordinary rhythms of showing up, engaging, questioning, and learning to respond to God in the middle of real life. Our role is not to control the outcome, but to faithfully cultivate a home where Scripture is known, church is a rhythm, serving others is normal, and questions are welcomed.
We model what it looks like to follow Jesus imperfectly but sincerely. We invite, guide, correct, and encourage—not with force, but with intention. Because in the end, love is not passive. Love forms. It stays present. Love continues to show up, even when the response is uncertain. Whether we are intentional or not, as parents, we are shepherding our children’s hearts toward something. To begin (or continue) in the journey of shepherding them toward Jesus, we have to remember the gospel every day. Jesus laid down his life for my children (and for me too), so I can trust him with all the changing needs of their hearts.
Remembering that he has proven his love to me (and to them) on the cross allows me to trust him, even with the bigger longings of my heart for them. It can also clarify our goals as parents. My prayer is that my children would know and trust Jesus above all else and that they would enjoy friendship with him forever. This is the quiet, steady work we have been given as shepherds of our children’s hearts before they can fully know and trust the greatest Shepherd on their own.
Rooted’s Family Discipleship Courses equip parents to faithfully disciple their children and teenagers to lifelong faith in Jesus. Our courses provide practical help and guidance centered around the truths of the gospel.
