By Anonymous
A teacher at my high school walked up and asked, “Have you seen [My older sister’s name]’s pictures from prom?” She had graduated from my high school the year before and attended a well-known Christian university over six hours away, so I assumed that there must be a mistake. How would she even make it to our prom? Then again, I also realized that my sister and the teacher had always been close, so the chances of her getting her confused with someone else were slim to none. I played along like it wasn’t that big of a deal; I said that no, I hadn’t seen them. She showed me.  
My sister was always rebellious growing up. Her infractions weren’t necessarily substantial, a rule broken here or there. Sadly, once we hit our teenage years, it very quickly moved beyond petty rules being broken. I’ve since learned that she would often sneak off to pool parties, dances, and the like, telling my parents that she was going to a friend’s house. Away from our parents, she was always quick to evoke inappropriate clothing and language. However, those prom pictures were far beyond anything that I would have expected, even for her. Not only did she go to a place that we had both heard a countless multitude of sermons against, she went dressed in a manner that shames our family to this day. On top of that, she drove six hours from school without any of our family knowing that she was in town, specifically in order to attend prom.  
Here is where my own mistake enters the picture: I kept it to myself.  
My older sister was always my idol growing up, and continued to be until after she left. To her, I was nothing but the annoying little brother. So, I chose to keep all of her secrets from our parents and everyone else. I tried to talk to her about what she was doing, but I felt that, if I told them, I would destroy any chance of her ever doing anything more than tolerating me. Looking back, I now realize that if I had only told someone from the beginning, when I saw the signs of her going down the wrong path, things could have turned out very differently. 
Months came and went. There weren’t many things that she even attempted to hide anymore. At one point, she and our father got into a substantial argument about whether or not she should go on a trip that defied Biblical principles. Eventually, she declared that she was going to go, whether or not Mom and Dad supported her. She then packed a few of her things and drove down the driveway as my parents chased the car, begging her to stop. That night, my parents, siblings, and I all sat in a stunned silence. We didn’t speak. We didn’t even cry; those tears would come later. If you have experienced this––and oh how I pray that you haven’t––then you know exactly how it feels. There is simply no accurate way to make someone understand who has never experienced it. 
Since that dark day two years ago, I have only seen her once. People will still occasionally ask if she’s tried to contact us, but for the most part, they’ve been able to move on, to forget. For my family, however, until the day that she comes back, if that day ever comes, we will never be able to push the acknowledgment away. Even if the thought resides in the deepest recesses of our minds, it is there. Everything from the empty chair at the dinner table to the empty spot in the driveway where her car always sat, all serve as undying reminders that something isn’t as it should be, though they are never voiced. 
Thankfully, this story doesn’t have a totally unhappy ending; when we are faithfully serving our Lord and Master, no story ever does. While she hasn’t come home or repented, and we have minimal contact with her, I can truthfully say that I have been able to glean much from this experience. I pray that you will hear my pleas. Despite the fact that I am “but a youth,” I give you this charge: 
If you are that unfaithful child in your family, whether you are 16 or 60, come home. Even you, of all people, cannot begin to understand the pain that your family feels from your absence. They love you. They desperately want you home. If you won’t do that, then at the very least come home to your Father. He will forgive you (Psalms 86:5; Matthew 11:28-30) and remember your transgressions no more (Psalms 103:12). He longs for you to come home to Him (Luke 15:20). It would be very easy to declare, “I’ll come to church and ‘go forward’ tomorrow, or next week, or in a month or two.” However, first of all, we are given no such promise that our lives will endure to that point (James 4:14). Secondly, you must realize that tomorrow never comes. Unless you fix things right now, the chances of it ever happening are not very good. I say it again: your Heavenly Father wants nothing more than to have you back in His fold, to have you return to His arms. I beg you, don’t keep Him waiting. Even now, yea, this very moment, you are breaking His heart. 
Or, if you are the family member of that unfaithful child, stay strong. Regardless of whether you’re the parent, sibling, or third cousin twice removed, remain steadfast (1 Corinthians 15:58; Hebrews 3:14). We oftentimes believe that only the parents suffer from this loss, and while their pain is most assuredly the greater, it is not limited to them alone. I know that for now, it seems it will never get easier, and to be completely honest with you, it doesn’t. But you have a choice. You can choose to be miserable. You can choose to blame that family member, your God, your preacher, your youth group, or yourself. And for the first year of her absence, this is the decision that I made. I bottled up my hatred for her actions and my lack thereof, but what did it solve? Nothing. It only made me bitter at the world. Who knows how many opportunities for good passed me by in that time that I was too wrapped in self-pity to acknowledge? 
You could choose to be miserable. But why would you want to when you can also choose to be at peace? What I am not saying is that to be at peace, you have to somehow try to accept or forget what has been done. However, we can have peace in the most brutal of storms. Do you recall what Jesus said to His disciples when they became afraid of the storm that arose while they were on the sea? He said, “Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?” (Matthew 8:23-26, KJV) It is in these storms, even this one, that we get to show the true caliber of our faith. As the old saying goes, you can let this make you bitter, or you can let it make you better. Putting all blame aside, only you get to decide how happy you are, regardless of the circumstances that you currently find yourself. 
With that in mind, I plead with you: Never give up on them. Even as the years go crawling by, we never know how a simple, kind word to them could bring them to their senses. Regardless of the pain that they have caused you, never stop taking their name before the Lord in prayer. I know that, more often than not, it feels that there are no words to say. Romans 8:26 says, “Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.” He is more than willing to help you if you will but help yourself.  
May you always find solace in the words of 2 Corinthians 4:17, “For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.”