Why do I ask God to save my son? Am I praying that the Lord would draw him to himself so I can be comforted? Surely, that comfort is just a side effect—joyful though it would be. Or do I plead with God so my son can be comforted? Certainly, that would be a blessing. But is that all there is to it—my son’s happiness? Or do I pray for his salvation so God’s name would be glorified?

As a teenager, our son “came out” as a “homosexual agnostic” on Facebook. Prior to this, there had been months of rumblings and arguments in our home about what Scripture actually teaches about homosexuality, but on that day, reading his statement in black and white, it felt like a blow to my chest. Weak-kneed, I sat down abruptly.

No! No! No! This can’t be happening! Can it? Our son?

I could vividly picture his 7-year-old self—his big brown eyes turned up to me, while his upper lip did that pointy thing it did when he was trying to articulate something important to him. “Mommy, I want to be a missionary pilot when I grow up. I can help bring Bibles and food to places trains can’t go.” I had drawn him close in a hug then, my heart brimming with joy. And pride.

What went wrong? Was it my pride in his precocious achievements? Was my homeschooling the problem? Was I too strict?

Our son’s coming out had only been the beginning of a slippery slope: he soon became a self-proclaimed “bisexual atheist,” then progressed to a “gender-fluid atheist,” all the while blaming us for brainwashing him as a kid and “force-feeding him a Book that called him an abomination.”

Now our son is an adult, and his Facebook intro reads—in part—“Queer. Non-binary.”

Daily, grief gnaws at my soul. Sometimes it threatens to become all-consuming and I’m tempted to let the darkness engulf me. But God, through a recent sermon, graciously brought to mind these precious words: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matt. 5:4).

Mourning

The pain I feel over the spiritual loss of my son is real. It feels like a death that keeps on dying, and the grief comes in waves. How do I mourn well? In the context of this passage in Matthew, it’s not just those who mourn but also the poor in spirit (v. 3) and the meek (v. 5) who are called blessed. 

So I’m to recognize my spiritual poverty and with a humble heart bring my grief to the Lord. I recognize I wasn’t a perfect mother—far from it. Many a time I disciplined in anger, got puffed up with pride (even though I knew that I owed every aspect of my life to God’s grace), or thought I was in control and acted that way. I’m not saying my sin caused my son’s sin. But my sin is as real as his. So I mourn it and ask my gracious Father to forgive me. Lord, have mercy! I need you.

When I look at the wretchedness that’s in my sinful flesh with mournful repentance, I’m able to look at the sin in my son’s life and mourn it for what it is—

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