How to Take Thoughts Captive as a Family| Teaching Kids to Overcome Fear and Lies

How to Take Thoughts Captive as a Family: Teaching Kids to Overcome Fear and Lies

There are some Bible verses we learn as children that sound simple until we actually try to live them. “Take every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ” is one of those verses. It sounds straightforward enough, but what does it actually mean to take a thought captive?

What does it look like in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday when your child is worried about something that hasn't happened yet, when you are replaying a conversation in your mind, when fear begins building a story about the future, or when a thought suddenly appears that tells you that you are alone, unloved, incapable, or forgotten?

What do we actually do with those thoughts?

Second Corinthians 10:5 tells us, “We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”

I think one of the first things we have to learn is simply to think about what we're thinking about. We can move through our days accepting every thought that enters our minds as though it must be true simply because we thought it. But not every thought deserves our agreement. Not every thought is truth. Not every thought reflects the character of God. And not every thought needs to be entertained. We have the ability to stop and examine what is happening inside of us.

We can ask, “Where did this thought come from?” There are ordinary thoughts that simply come from our souls—“I'm hungry,” “I need to go to the bathroom,” “I need to finish this project.” There are thoughts that can align with what the Father is saying, thoughts that bring wisdom, encouragement, conviction, direction, or truth. And there are thoughts that are rooted in lies, fear, accusation, condemnation, and deception.

The enemy would love nothing more than for us to assume that every thought that enters our mind belongs to us and therefore must be acted upon. But when we begin to understand that we can examine our thoughts, we begin to realize that we have a choice.

We can stop.

We can identify the thought. We can bring it into the light of God's Word and ask whether it is true. We can ask whether it is good and godly or whether it is evil and wicked. And we can choose what we will do with it. This is one of the reasons the family is such an important place for discipleship.

Our children need somewhere safe to practice this. They need to learn that having a thought is not the same thing as believing a thought. Feeling afraid is not the same thing as being in danger. Worrying about something doesn't mean that something bad is going to happen. And having a thought that says, “Nobody loves me,” doesn't make that thought true.

We can teach our children to stop and say, “What am I thinking right now?” That question alone can begin to change everything. I learned this in a very practical way while parenting my oldest daughter. She tended to worry quite a bit when she was young, and I remember reading Wemberly Worried by Kevin Henkes with her over and over again. Wemberly was constantly asking “what if?” What if this happened? What if that happened? What if something went wrong? And eventually, that became a language we could use in our own home.

When my daughter began saying, “What if…” I could ask, “What if what?” And suddenly we had something we could work with. Instead of allowing the worry to remain this vague, overwhelming feeling, we could identify it. “That's a worry.” Once we identified it, we could begin asking a deeper question: “What are you actually afraid of?”

This is where taking thoughts captive becomes much more than simply telling someone to stop worrying. We can tell a child, “Don't worry,” all day long, but that doesn't necessarily teach them what to do with the worry. If the worry is simply pushed down, it will often come back in another form. But when we stop and identify the thought, we can begin to discover what is underneath it.

Sometimes the “what if” isn't really about the thing we think it is about. Sometimes the deeper fear is, “What if I don't get my way?” “What if things don't go the way I planned?” “What if someone doesn't approve of me?” “What if I fail?” “What if nobody likes me?” “What if I am left out?” “What if God doesn't do what I want Him to do?” Now we aren't simply dealing with a thought anymore. We are dealing with the heart beneath the thought. And that is where vulnerability becomes so important.

Our homes need to become places where our children can tell the truth about what is happening inside of them without immediately being shamed for it. Sometimes the most powerful thing a parent can say is, “Thank you for telling me.” Not because the fear is true, but because the child has brought it into the light. Once it is in the light, we can begin to examine it together. “You're afraid that this won't work out. Why does that scare you?” “You're worried that your friend won't invite you. What would that mean to you?” “You're afraid you're going to fail. What do you believe failure says about you?” “You're worried that God won't answer your prayer. What do you believe that means about God?”

These questions can uncover beliefs that our children may not even realize they are carrying. And sometimes, if we're honest, they uncover things in us too.

I grew up in the church. I was there whenever the doors were open. I knew the Bible. I knew the language of faith. But I don't remember anyone telling me that it was okay to say, “I don't trust God with this.” Instead, I heard things like, “Just trust God more.” So I tried. I prayed harder. I told myself I needed more faith. But eventually I discovered something that changed the way I related to God: He already knew I didn't trust Him.

My pretending didn't make Him more pleased with me. My honesty didn't scare Him away. In fact, confession gave me the opportunity to bring what was hidden into the light.

Think about Adam and Eve in the garden. After they sinned, they hid themselves. When God came looking for them, He asked, “Where are you?” God wasn't asking because He didn't know where they were. He knew exactly where they were. He was giving them an opportunity to identify where they were. That is part of what confession does.

Confession isn't informing God of something He didn't know. It is agreeing with Him about what is true and bringing what has been hidden into the light. There is freedom in being able to say, “Father, I am afraid.” There is freedom in saying, “I don't trust You with this.” There is freedom in saying, “I'm angry because things didn't go the way I wanted them to.” There is freedom in saying, “I'm afraid that nobody will understand me.” Those statements aren't the final destination. They are the beginning of an honest conversation with God.

Once the thought is identified and the fear underneath it is brought into the light, we can begin asking what God says about it. This is where we take the thought captive. We don't simply replace a negative thought with a positive thought. We bring the thought under the authority of Christ. If the thought says, “Nobody loves me,” we don't simply say, “Everyone loves me.” We ask what God's Word says about our identity and His love for us. If the thought says, “I can't do this,” we don't manufacture confidence in ourselves. We remember that our strength ultimately comes from Christ. If the thought says, “What if everything goes wrong?” we can acknowledge the fear and then bring it to the Father, asking Him to help us trust Him with what we cannot control.

Taking a thought captive doesn't mean pretending the thought never existed. It means refusing to let an unexamined thought become our master. It means bringing it into the light and submitting it to Jesus. And this is something families can practice together.

Imagine a child coming into the room and saying, “What if I mess this up?” Instead of immediately saying, “You're going to be fine,” a parent could pause and ask, “What are you thinking right now?” The child might say, “I'm afraid I'm going to fail.” The parent can ask, “And what do you think it would mean if you failed?” Perhaps the answer is, “Then everyone will think I'm stupid.” Now we've uncovered something deeper. The fear isn't simply failure. The fear is what failure supposedly says about identity. So now the family has something to bring before Christ. They can pray. They can look at Scripture. They can speak truth. They can remind that child that their identity isn't established by performance, approval, achievement, or failure.

This is discipleship in the family room. It is not merely teaching Bible verses. It is teaching our children how to live those verses. Second Corinthians 10:5 stops being words printed on a page and becomes a practice: “This is the thought I'm having. What is underneath it? Is it true? What does God say? What am I going to do with this thought?”

And the more we practice this as a family, the more natural it becomes. We begin to recognize the patterns. We start noticing that our worries often point toward something we fear. We begin recognizing that fear often reveals something we believe. And sometimes what we believe is a lie.

This is why healing and discernment belong together. We cannot simply tell our children to think differently without helping them understand why certain thoughts have such power over them. Sometimes our thoughts are connected to experiences that have wounded us. Sometimes they are connected to things people have spoken over us. Sometimes they are connected to moments when we felt rejected, abandoned, powerless, unsafe, or unseen. And sometimes the enemy takes those places of vulnerability and builds lies around them.

The answer isn't to live in fear of every thought or assume that every difficult emotion is spiritual warfare. The answer is to bring everything into the light of Christ. To become honest. To become discerning. To become willing to ask, “What is really happening inside of me?”

That is part of the reason I created the Pathway to Wholeness Course. It is designed to help you begin identifying the fears and lies that have shaped your thinking and walk through a process of bringing those places into the light. If you're discovering that your family needs language and tools for identifying fear, lies, and the patterns underneath your thoughts, you can learn more about the course at www.ashleytilford.com.

There is another practice that can help us reshape the way we think and speak: blessing.

We live in a culture where negative language comes easily. “I can't.” “I'll never be good enough.” “This isn't going to work.” “Nobody cares.” “I'm terrible at this.” We can become so accustomed to these statements that we don't even recognize how often we speak them.

But what if we began intentionally practicing blessing instead? What if we taught our children to recognize a negative statement and then ask, “What is the opposite truth I can speak?” If a child says, “I can't do this,” we might bless them with the truth that they can find strength in Christ. If they say, “I'm not good enough,” we can remind them that their worth isn't earned through performance. If they say, “Nobody cares about me,” we can speak the truth of God's steadfast love and remind them of the people God has placed around them.

This doesn't mean we ignore reality or use positive words to cover pain. Biblical blessing is not pretending everything is okay. It is intentionally speaking words that align with God's truth, identity, purpose, and blessing. My Redemptive Gift Blessing Cards can be a simple tool for families who want to begin practicing this. They give you language to help shift your family's conversations from a default mindset of “I can't, I won't, I shouldn't” toward words of blessing, identity, strength, and truth.

You can find them, along with the Pathway to Wholeness Course and other resources, at www.ashleytilford.com.

Ultimately, taking thoughts captive is not about becoming people who never experience fear, worry, uncertainty, or difficult emotions. It is about becoming people who know what to do with those things when they come.

Our children are going to have fearful thoughts. They are going to worry. They are going to wonder whether they are enough. They are going to encounter rejection and disappointment. They will have moments when they question whether God is really going to come through. Our goal isn't to prevent every one of those moments. Our goal is to teach them what to do when those moments come.

We can teach them to stop. To notice. To identify. To confess. To examine. To bring the thought into the light of God's Word. And then to choose obedience to Christ. We can teach them that they don't have to be ashamed of the thoughts that enter their minds. They don't have to hide. They don't have to pretend. They can bring their fears to the Father and say, “I don't know how to trust You with this yet. Help me.” That may be one of the most honest prayers a person can pray.

Because the Father isn't asking us to pretend that we have no fear. He is inviting us to bring our fear to Him. And when we create homes where that kind of honesty is welcomed, we aren't simply raising children who know how to quote Scripture. We are raising children who know how to live it. We are teaching them how to recognize a lie before they build their life around it. We are teaching them how to recognize fear before fear becomes their decision-maker. We are teaching them how to bring hidden things into the light instead of allowing them to grow in darkness. And we are teaching them that when a thought rises up against the knowledge of God, they don't have to surrender to it.

They can take it captive.

They can bring it to Jesus.

They can ask what is true.

They can submit it to the authority of Christ.

This is what family discipleship looks like. It is messy sometimes. It is vulnerable. It requires us as parents to model the very thing we are asking our children to do. We cannot expect our children to be honest about their fears if we never admit our own. We cannot expect them to confess when we respond with shame. We cannot expect them to slow down and examine their thoughts if we react impulsively to every difficult situation.

The family room becomes a training ground when we practice these things together. When we sit at the table and talk. When we pray in the car. When we admit that we're afraid. When we ask forgiveness. When we open God's Word. When we speak blessing over one another. When we take a thought captive and make it obedient to Christ.

And perhaps the most beautiful part is that we don't have to do this perfectly. We simply have to begin. The next time someone in your family says, “What if…,” don't rush to silence the worry. Stop and ask, “What if what?” And then listen.

There may be a fear underneath that needs to be brought into the light. There may be a lie that needs to be confronted with truth. There may be a wound that needs the healing presence of Christ. And there may be an opportunity for your family to practice what Paul wrote thousands of years ago: taking every thought captive and making it obedient to Christ.

Because discipleship isn't only about teaching our children what to believe. It is teaching them how to recognize what is happening inside of them and how to bring every part of themselves under the loving authority of Jesus. The family room is where we learn to think about what we're thinking about—and where we learn to bring those thoughts to Christ.

Listen to the podcast episode at Family Room Mission Podcast