If you grew up in purity culture, you might remember the object lessons used to warn kids about the danger of sex outside marriage. One of the most memorable involved a rose. It was passed from person to person, each handling it until the petals bent, tore, and fell away. By the end, the once-beautiful flower was wilted and broken.
The message was clear: “This is what happens to you if you’re touched too much, no longer pure, no longer beautiful. Damaged goods.”
While I still believe that sex outside its intended context (marriage) wounds the human soul, and I understand the desire to help impulsive teenagers take it seriously, the exercise did deep harm. It left many questioning their worth, not only in the eyes of a forgiving God, but also in the so-called “marriage market” they were told defined their value.
For children who had already endured sexual abuse, the message was devastating. They didn’t just feel broken by others’ choices, they believed they were born broken. Many will tell you it compounded their shame and silenced their pain even further. It made them feel like freaks hidden among the “pure”— dirty impostors pretending to belong. Instead of being met with compassion and healing, they internalized the belief that their very existence was a stain, that they could never be restored, desired, or truly loved.
If I’m honest, that same sense of being misplaced has followed me into conversations about Christian parenting. I thought it was bad enough being a single mom, but then I entered (and eventually left) a toxic marriage. Suddenly, I wasn’t just single, I was divorced. And none of the “biblical parenting” advice seemed to fit:
“Children are doomed without a father.” I tried and failed in that department. No father was better than a violent one.
“Divorce destroys children.” But abuse destroys the mothers who protect them.
“Children weren’t designed for daycare.” They also weren’t designed for hunger, and I had to work full-time to keep food on the table.
Now, let’s be clear: my circumstances were shaped in part by my own poor choices. I’m not pretending otherwise. Acknowledging that doesn’t erase the truth of my experience, it simply grounds it. Once my bed was made, I had to lie in it. And from that bed, the “resources” offered to struggling Christian single moms often felt more like reminders of failure than sources of hope. During that season, I had to keep reminding myself that my calling wasn’t to meet the expectations of the church, the culture, or even other parents. I served an audience of One. I clung to passages like Isaiah 54, which promise of God’s faithfulness to provide, restore, and bless my children despite the folly of my youth.
Then came the sweeping condemnations of public school:
“How could you possibly claim to love your children while exposing them to the Marxist agenda so regularly?” concerned parents would ask, wide-eyed.
I never knew where to begin. Should I tell them my Christian school experience, while valuable on a number of levels, also left me ill-equipped to love like Jesus, and that many of my classmates have since walked away from faith? Should I tell them my kids met the Marxist agenda the day I was fired for opposing it, that I checked out the banned books myself and read them aloud to spark fearless conversations on the taboo subjects that will inevitably smack them upside the head the minute they enter “the real world?” That the “sheltering” ship sailed long ago, when my ex made it his mission to expose our daughter to everything I tried to protect her from?
No. The time for hiding is over. We are in the equipping phase, full speed ahead. But that’s just my family. It may very well be different for yours, and that’s great. Preserve that innocence as long as you can, and God bless you in the effort! Each family is different.
Some will see my life as a cautionary tale, and they’re free to. Single parenthood isn’t God’s design. Divorce wounds children. The world will try to corrupt them. But writing me off doesn’t equip the mom already living the cautionary tale. It doesn’t offer grace to the mother piecing together hope from shards. Cautionary tales still need a map out of the wreckage. And that’s really the point.
A lot of well-meaning Christian parents cling to formulas because they offer the illusion of control, the false assurance that if they just check all the right boxes, their kids will turn out okay. But life, and faith, don’t work like that. God never promised that perfect parenting would produce perfect children. You can do everything exactly right from diet to theology to screen time and church engagement, and your kids can still stray. I’ve seen this play out time and time again. Does this mean we just stop striving to do our best? Of course not. But it does mean we need to loosen our death grip on the illusion of perfect parenting and resolve to rest in the knowledge that “He who began a good work will carry it through to completion” even if we screw up once in a while.
There are timeless principles we can and should hold to. Children need structure, clear boundaries, and consistent love. They need to see adults modeling integrity, humility, and grace, and they need to witness men and women working together in healthy partnership. They need exposure to the wider world so they can learn discernment and resilience, and they need opportunities to serve others and practice empathy. They need to see adults apologize, forgive, and navigate conflict with honesty and respect.
The Bible calls us to train up our children in the way they should go, and that training isn’t just about rules or formulas — it’s about equipping them to thrive spiritually, emotionally, and relationally. It’s about guiding them toward truth while giving them the tools to make wise decisions when no one is watching. It’s about fostering curiosity, courage, and compassion in hearts that will one day shape the world.
That takes humility, prayer, and a willingness to see our kids not as reflections of our success, but as souls entrusted to us for a time.
Homeschooling won’t save them.
Christian school won’t save them.
Preserving marriage at all costs won’t save them.
Only Jesus saves.
And it won’t be our flawless parenting that wins the day; it will be our complete reliance on Him, our humility to admit when we’ve failed, and our willingness to keep the conversation open, honest, and prayerful as we walk alongside our children toward grace.
Originally published at Honest to Goodness.
Kaeley Harms, co-founder of Hands Across the Aisle Women’s Coalition, is a Christian feminist who rarely fits into boxes. She is a truth teller, envelope pusher, Jesus follower, abuse survivor, writer, wife, mom, and lover of words aptly spoken.
