YOU ARE NOT ALONE
When Someone You Love Has Left the Faith
The grief is real. The temptation to control is real. What the scriptures offer instead is harder and more hopeful than either.
A grief that does not have a name
When someone you love — a child, a spouse, a close friend — walks away from the faith you shared, there is a grief to it that does not have a commonly recognized name. They are still alive. The relationship is still technically intact. But something fundamental has changed, and the loss of it is real.
There is the shared language that no longer applies. The rituals you did together that you now do alone. The future you imagined — for your family, for your marriage, for your friendship — that has shifted into something you did not plan for. And alongside the grief, often, there is fear: for them, for their eternity, for the relationship. And sometimes, underneath both of those, there is anger.
All of that is legitimate. This page is not going to tell you to stop feeling it. What it is going to do is look honestly at what the scriptures model — not as a strategy to get your person back, but as a way of understanding what love looks like in this specific situation. Because love that is trying to get someone back is a different thing from love that is simply love. And the difference matters.
Naming what you are actually carrying
Before we talk about what to do, it is worth naming what you are in. Because if you have not been given permission to grieve this, you may be carrying it in silence, or converting it into other emotions — anger, anxiety, hypervigilance about the relationship — that are harder to hold.
Faith is not only a private matter — it is a shared language, a framework for meaning, a set of practices and community and hopes that you and this person once held together. When they leave, you lose a partner in that. You may now worship, observe holidays, or raise children alone in ways you did not expect. That loss is real, and it is worth naming it as loss rather than converting it immediately into concern for them.
You may have pictured a future with this person that assumed their faith: family prayers, shared observance, eternal family. That future has changed shape, and there is a grief in that even before anything practical has shifted. The gap between the future you imagined and the one you are now in deserves to be acknowledged.
If you believe what you believe, then you are genuinely concerned for them — not as manipulation or leverage, but as real love. That fear is worth acknowledging. And then worth placing in God's hands, because carrying the weight of another person's eternity is too heavy for a human being and it will warp the relationship if it stays as the primary energy in it.
Many parents especially carry a private, relentless question: did I do something wrong? Was it my faith that was a performance? Was it the community I chose? Was it something I said or did or failed to do? Sometimes those questions have honest answers. Often they do not, and the person's choices are the result of their own journey, their own questions, their own agency — not primarily of yours. But the question will probably come. You should know it is coming.
The prodigal son's father — the model no one talks about enough
The parable in Luke 15:11-32 is almost always told as the story of the son. But it is just as much the story of the father. And what the father does — and does not do — while his son is gone is the scriptural model for this situation.
The son demanded his inheritance early — an insult in the culture that was roughly equivalent to wishing his father dead. The father gave it to him. He did not argue, negotiate, or withhold. He let the son go. This is the first thing the father did: he respected his son's agency. He did not use economic leverage to compel the son to stay. He gave him what he asked for and let him leave.
"And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him."
The father saw him when he was "yet a great way off." He was watching. Not obsessively — Luke does not paint the father as a man sitting at the window every hour, unable to function. But watching in the way of someone who has kept the door of his heart open and noticed the horizon. He saw his son when the son was still a great distance away, which means he knew what his son looked like when he was coming home. He ran. He did not wait for the son to complete the walk and arrive and deliver the prepared speech. He ran to meet him. The welcome was not earned — it was given freely, immediately, before the son had said a word.
The parable does not tell us what the father did while his son was in the far country. He does not appear to have sent messengers. He does not appear to have followed his son to lecture or persuade him. He stayed home, he maintained the household, he watched, and he kept a posture of readiness to receive. That readiness was not passive — it was an active, costly orientation of the heart toward someone who had walked away. He did not stop loving or stop hoping. He simply did not convert that love and hope into pressure or pursuit.
Alma the Elder and the power of persistent prayer
Alma the Younger was not just someone who had drifted from faith. He was actively working to destroy the church. He was "going about to destroy the church of God" — a man using his influence, his energy, and his relationships to lead others away from what his father had built and believed. He was, by any measure, a parent's worst nightmare in a faith context.
Alma the Elder prayed. The angel who appeared to his son said specifically: "The Lord hath heard the prayers of his people, and also the prayers of his servant Alma, who is thy father; for he has prayed with much faith concerning thee." Not occasional prayers. Not prayers offered as part of a strategy. Prayers offered with "much faith" — sustained, persistent, real faith expressed in sustained, persistent prayer. His father prayed when there was no visible sign it was working. His father prayed when his son was actively making things worse. He prayed because that was what he could do, and because he believed it mattered.
When Alma the Younger was struck down by the angel and went through three days of spiritual agony, what broke through the darkness was the memory of his father: "I remembered also to have heard my father prophesy unto the people concerning the coming of one Jesus Christ, a Son of God, to atone for the sins of the world." It was his father's testimony — the one he had heard and rejected for years — that became the thing he reached for in the moment of crisis. The seeds planted by a faithful parent were still there, buried under years of rebellion, waiting for the moment of desperation. His father never saw that day coming. He prayed anyway.
Read more: Alma the Younger — Character Study
What does not help — and what does
Ultimatums
"If you don't come back to church, our relationship will be different." This is almost never effective and almost always damages the relationship. The prodigal son's father did not send threats or conditions to the far country. Ultimatums tell the person: my love has conditions. Even if they comply, what they are complying with is pressure, not genuine return. And if they do not comply, you have both lost the relationship and lost the influence that comes with it.
Constant persuasion attempts
Turning every conversation into a case for their return makes every conversation unsafe. They will begin to avoid you, or to manage what they tell you, to prevent the conversation from going there again. You will lose access. The relationship works best when it is genuinely a relationship — not a prolonged argument about one issue. Trust them to know what they believe. Trust the seeds that were planted. Make the relationship the thing you protect.
Making them carry your grief
If every time you are together, they can see your devastation about their choices, they will feel responsible for managing your emotions. That is an enormous burden to carry. It is also a subtle form of pressure. Your grief is real and valid — but it belongs in conversations with your counselor, your close friends, your prayer journal. Not in every interaction with the person who has left.
Love them as they are
Show genuine interest in their life as it is now — not as it was, not as you wish it were. Ask about the things they care about. Celebrate what is good in their life. Be present without an agenda. This is not compromise or approval. It is what the father did: he kept his heart open and he welcomed his son back. The relationship itself, maintained with genuine love over time, is your most significant witness.
Pray persistently
Alma the Elder prayed with "much faith concerning" his son for years with no visible result. Then an angel came. You do not control the timing or the outcome. But prayer is the thing you can do. Not as a strategy to force change, but as genuine care for someone you love expressed to a God who can reach where you cannot. Pray specifically. Pray honestly. Pray even when it feels like nothing is happening.
Keep the door unconditionally open
The father saw his son "yet a great way off" and ran. That was possible because the father had never stopped watching for a return. Make sure your person knows — not just by implication but if necessary by direct statement — that you love them without conditions, that the relationship is not contingent on their faith, and that if they ever want to talk about faith or doubt or questions or return, you are there without judgment. That open door is the most important thing you can offer.
Taking care of yourself in the middle of this
You cannot sustain a loving, open posture toward your person if you are depleted, isolated, and carrying this alone. Some practical steps for your own wellbeing.
Organizations exist to support parents, spouses, and friends navigating exactly this situation. Finding people who understand the specific grief of watching someone you love walk away from faith — without needing to explain the layers of it — is valuable. You are not alone in this, but you may need to find your community intentionally.
A therapist, a close friend, a spiritual director, a journal, your own prayer — these are the places for the full weight of your grief. This is not about hiding your feelings. It is about making sure you have somewhere to put them that does not make your person responsible for carrying them.
Sometimes a loved one's departure from faith surfaces your own unexamined questions. That can feel threatening, but it is actually an invitation. Your own faith will be stronger for being honestly examined rather than defended reflexively. Do not let the need to present a confident front to your person prevent you from doing your own honest work.
This is the hardest one. You cannot control whether your person returns to faith. You can love them. You can pray. You can keep the door open. The outcome belongs to God and to them. Carrying the weight of their spiritual destiny will crush you and distort the relationship. The Atonement covers your imperfect love and your imperfect parenting. It does not require you to be the determining factor in another person's eternity.
Questions worth sitting with
One conversation without an agenda
Reach out to your person this week — not to address their faith, not to make a case, not to express your grief. Simply to be in relationship with them. Ask about something in their life. Listen without redirecting. The relationship itself is the thing worth protecting.
Use the prayer journal in Covenant Path to write your prayers for your person — specific, honest, consistent. Alma the Elder prayed with much faith. You can too.
The prodigal son's father ran to meet him when he was "yet a great way off" — before the son had said anything or done anything to earn the welcome. What would it look like to run toward your person, rather than waiting for them to complete the journey back to you?
What emotion are you most carrying right now — grief, fear, anger, guilt? Have you been able to name it to anyone? Have you been able to name it to God? What would it change if you put words to it?
Alma the Elder prayed and trusted God with the result. The angel came in God's timing, not Alma's. What would it feel like to truly hand over the outcome to God — not as resignation but as trust? What would you do differently in the relationship if you were not carrying the weight of their eternity?
Questions about loved ones leaving the faith
What does the Bible say about a family member leaving the faith?
The parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32) is the most direct scriptural model. The father respects his son's agency, lets him go, watches and waits, and runs to him when he returns. He does not chase, argue, or attach conditions to his love. The posture of the father — open, watching, ready to welcome — is the scriptural model for how to hold this relationship.
How did Alma's father respond when Alma was living wickedly?
Alma the Elder prayed with "much faith" concerning his son for years while his son was actively working to destroy the church. Mosiah 27:14 records that the angel sent to Alma the Younger came specifically in response to his father's prayers. He did not use ultimatums or cut off the relationship. He prayed persistently and trusted God with what he could not control.
What should I NOT do when a loved one leaves the faith?
Four things that tend to push people further away: (1) Ultimatums — conditions attached to the relationship. (2) Constant persuasion — making every conversation about why they should return. (3) Expressing grief so heavily that they feel responsible for managing your emotions. (4) Treating them as a project rather than a person. The prodigal son's father did none of these. He kept the door open and waited.
How do I maintain a relationship with someone who has left the church?
Maintain the relationship as a relationship — not as a reclamation project. Show genuine interest in their life. Celebrate what is good. Create space for them to be known and loved as they are. Keep the door open without attaching conditions. The relationship's quality and consistency — its lack of conditions — may be your most significant witness over time.
Is it my fault that my child or spouse left the faith?
You may have contributed factors, but you are not the sole determinant. Every person exercises their own agency. Some people from deeply faithful homes walk away. Some from faithless homes find their way to belief. You can love faithfully, pray persistently, and keep the door open — you cannot determine the outcome. The Atonement covers your imperfect love. It does not require you to be the controlling cause of another person's choices.
Continue your study
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Sustain your own faith while you wait
Covenant Path helps you maintain the daily practices — scripture reading, prayer, spiritual journaling — that keep your own faith grounded while you hold a difficult relationship. You cannot give what you do not have. Tend your own faith first.