Friend, I know this heartache.
I raised my children in the Church. We prayed together, served at our church, sang hymns on long car rides. I taught them their prayers, took them to Sunday service every week, and watched them get baptized with tears in my eyes. I did everything I thought a faithful mother should do.
And then... they drifted.
It started slowly. College made Sunday church “complicated.” Work schedules interfered. New relationships brought different perspectives. One by one, the traditions that once bound us together felt more like obligations to them—and sources of worry for me.
I asked gently at first: “Want to come to church with me this Sunday?” I shared little devotions, sent links to beautiful sermons, tucked inspirational cards in their bags when they visited. I reminded them about Christian holidays and invited them to church events. Every gesture came from love, but somehow doors kept closing instead of opening.
My heart ached. I lay awake wondering if I was pushing them further away with every well-meaning invitation. The very faith that gave my life meaning had become a source of tension between us. I worried I was becoming “that mom”—the one they'd start avoiding altogether.
Here’s what I learned the hard way: when your adult children have stepped back from the Church, almost everything that feels natural to a faithful mom can accidentally feel like pressure to them.
Those loving invitations to church? They hear our hope—but they also hear expectation.
The devotional links we share? They see our good intentions—but they also sense our agenda.
Even our gentlest reminders about Christian holidays can land like judgment: “Mom thinks I'm not good enough as I am.”
I tried everything I could think of:
Casual mentions of beautiful sermons
“Thought you might like this” emails with spiritual content
Little notes tucked into care packages
Stories about how much the church misses them
Invitations framed as “no pressure, just if you want to”
But no matter how carefully I chose my words, the pattern was the same: polite deflection. Changed subjects. Shorter phone calls. They heard love in my words, but they also heard an unspoken message: “You're not living the way I hoped you would.”
The truth is, when someone has pulled back from faith, they develop sensitive radar for anything that feels like an attempt to pull them back in. Our mother hearts want to reach toward them, but they experience that reach as push.
One Sunday morning, instead of sending my usual “Miss you at church” text, I tried something different.
I’d just heard the Gospel about the prodigal son, and it stirred something in me. But instead of forwarding a sermon about it or explaining how it reminded me of our situation, I wrote a short, simple story.I imagined what that father might have felt during those long months of waiting—the way he must have watched the road, the conversations he had with his wife about whether their son was eating enough, the prayers he whispered late at night.
I kept it short—maybe six minutes to read. I tried to capture the ache, the hope, the unconditional love that keeps burning even when children make choices that break our hearts.
At the end, I simply texted:
"Saw this story today and thought of you. Love you."
No ask. No agenda. No hidden message about coming home to church. Just a story about a father's love.
Three hours later, my phone buzzed:
"Mom, that was beautiful. Thank you for sharing it."
Not a debate. Not an argument about theology. Not even a conversation about faith.
Just a door that had opened instead of closing.
From that moment, I started discovering what I now call The Untold Sunday School Stories.
When I say “Untold Sunday School Stories,” I mean the biblical stories that somehow never made it into the Sunday school curriculum. The stories that are right there in Scripture but get overlooked because they're too complex, too raw, or too human for children's lessons.
Working with a small team of Christian artists and video creators who shared this heart for families, we began creating short video stories—usually 5–8 minutes each—that take these overlooked Bible passages and make them breathe with real human emotion. These aren't sermons or theological explanations. They're narrative retellings that let you walk in the sandals of biblical characters who faced the same struggles we all do: worry, loneliness, guilt, hope, forgiveness.
Stories like King Saul's final night, wrestling with the weight of his failures and God's silence. The wife of Potiphar, living with the shame of her choices. The centurion at the cross, watching everything he believed about power crumble. Bathsheba's grief that no one talks about. The rich young ruler walking away from Jesus, and what that walk might have felt like.
But we also reimagined the familiar stories from fresh perspectives—the prodigal son from the father's aching viewpoint, Peter's shame after denying Christ and the long night that followed, Mary's very human fear behind her "yes" to the angel.
These are The Untold Sunday School Stories—the ones that make your adult children think: “I've never heard this before. I didn't know this was in the Bible. Why didn't anyone ever tell me about this?”
That “newness” changes everything. Instead of rolling their eyes at another familiar parable, they lean in with curiosity. Instead of feeling like you're recycling old Sunday school lessons, they discover that there are entire stories in the Bible that somehow never made it into their childhood faith education.
Stories invite discovery, not defenses. When you send an article about why church matters, their internal alarm goes off: “Here comes the agenda.” But when you share a story about someone wrestling with doubt or finding unexpected grace, they think: “This is just a story. I can listen to a story.”
Fresh stories spark curiosity. Here's what I've learned: when your adult children think they know all the Bible stories, they stop listening. But when you tell them about King Saul's final night—wrestling with God's silence and his own failures—suddenly they're thinking: “I've never heard this before. I didn't know this was in the Bible. Why didn't anyone ever tell me about this?” That curiosity opens doors that familiarity keeps closed.
The power of The Untold Sunday School Stories is that they feel both completely new and authentically biblical. Your children can't dismiss them as “kids' stories” because they never heard them as kids.
Stories honor their freedom. God never coerces. “Always be prepared to give an answer... but do this with gentleness and respect” (1 Peter 3:15). A story respects their pace, their questions, their right to draw their own conclusions. You're not telling them what to think—you're giving them something beautiful and unexpected to think about.
Stories plant real seeds. Paul reminds us: “I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow” (1 Corinthians 3:6). Our job isn't to create the faith—it's to plant seeds and trust God's timing. The Untold Sunday School Stories are perfect seeds: small, patient, full of life, and surprising enough to take root in hearts that thought they were closed to spiritual things because they offer something genuinely new to discover.
Here's how to begin this gentle ministry to your child's heart:
Step 1: Pray
Before you choose anything, spend a few quiet minutes with the Holy Spirit. Ask simply: “Lord, what does my child's heart need to hear this week?” Maybe they've been stressed about work—pray for a story about God's provision. Maybe they seem lonely—ask for a story about belonging.
Step 2: Choose
With The Untold Sunday School Stories right in your phone app, you can quickly find exactly what fits the feeling you sense they're carrying. The app makes it simple to browse by theme, emotion, or biblical character:
The familiar stories, told from fresh perspectives:
The prodigal son, from the father's aching perspective while he waits
Peter's shame after denying Christ, and the long night that followed
Mary's confusion when the angel appeared—the real human fear behind her "yes"
The Untold Sunday School Stories that surprise:
King Saul's final night, wrestling with God's silence and his own failures
Bathsheba's grief that the Bible mentions but never explores
The rich young ruler's walk away from Jesus—what that journey felt like
The centurion at the cross, watching his understanding of power crumble
Sometimes your child needs the comfort of a familiar story told beautifully. Other times, they need the intrigue of discovering: “I never knew this was in the Bible.”
Step 3: Share
With just a few taps in the app, you can share any story instantly:
"Saw this story today and thought of you. Hope you're having a good weekend. Love you."
No fumbling with links, no worrying about broken videos. The app makes sharing effortless, so you can focus on loving well rather than managing technology.
Step 4: Release
Send it and let it go. Don't check to see if they watched it. Don't follow up with questions. This is an act of faith—you're planting a seed and trusting the Gardener to tend it.
Since I began this practice, something beautiful has shifted in my relationship with my children.
The conversations feel safer now. Sometimes they text back with a simple “Thank you” or “That was lovely.” Sometimes they don't respond at all. But the air between us is softer.
Last Christmas, my daughter mentioned “that story you sent about Mary being afraid.” I had sent it eight months earlier and forgotten about it, but it had stayed with her. We ended up having the most honest conversation about doubt and faith we'd had in years.
My son, who hasn't been to church in five years, started asking: “Mom, do you have another one of those stories?” Not about coming back to church. Just... “Do you have another story?”
That is grace.
These aren't dramatic conversion stories. They're small resurrections—moments when hearts that had closed begin to crack open again, when faith starts to feel safe instead of threatening.
The most beautiful part? I'm no longer the “religious mom” trying to drag them back to church. I'm just the mom who knows The Untold Sunday School Stories.
I'm a Christian mom, just like you. Along with a small team of Christian artists and video creators who share this heart for families, we've poured everything into creating this collection because I know the ache you carry.
We're not some big media company with marketing budgets and corporate goals. We're parents and grandparents who've walked this road, who understand this heartbreak, and who believe there has to be a gentler way.
If this approach speaks to your heart, if you sense the Holy Spirit nudging you toward something gentler, I'd love to share The Untold Sunday School Stories with you. Ready for whatever season your child's heart is walking through.
Every plan gives you and your loved ones private access to all Bible stories. Cancel anytime.
Free 7-day trial
Hundreds of Bible stories to choose from
Grant access to the number of users you have
Add or remove users as needed
Change or cancel your plan, anytime
This isn't about what you can afford—it's about what God is stirring in your mother's heart. Whether you start with just personal access or invite your whole family to discover these stories together, you're supporting this ministry and giving yourself the tools to love your children well in a new way.
Maybe your child will watch. Maybe they won't. But you'll know you've loved them well. You'll know you've planted a seed. You'll know you've kept the door open between your heart and theirs.
And sometimes, that's exactly what grace looks like—not a dramatic turnaround, but a door that stays open. A heart that stays soft. A love that keeps reaching without grasping.
One story. One moment. One more open door.
What could the Holy Spirit do with that?
Lord Jesus, You who told stories that found their way past our stubborn defenses and into our guarded hearts—I come to You as a mother whose love feels too big for words.
Give me Your gentleness. Take this small story I offer and make it a bridge between my heart and theirs. Bless my child wherever they are on their journey. You love them even more than I do—help me rest in that truth.
Make me more like the father in Your story—watching the road with hope, running toward my child with joy, celebrating every small step toward home.
In Your gentle and holy name, Amen.
You didn't fail. Love planted deep roots—stories simply water them.
Try Untold Sunday School Stories Today