When the Courtroom Isn’t Enough: Letting Faith Guide the Fight for Your Family

When I first became an attorney, I carried a heavy, unspoken pressure on my shoulders—a pressure I now realize so many people project onto their lawyers: the expectation that we will somehow fix everything. We’re often seen as the solution to all the pain, confusion, and injustice a client is facing. And in family law—divorce, custody battles, and the unraveling of the home—that pressure is especially deep.

But here’s the truth: I’m not the solution. God is.

Over the years, I’ve handled countless custody and divorce cases. Patterns emerge. Pain repeats. And one of the hardest truths I’ve had to accept—and help my clients understand—is that the court rarely provides the kind of resolution people are truly looking for. Yes, there are rulings. But most are broad, minimalistic, and procedural: who has custody, how many calls per week, when exchanges happen. Judges aren’t there to resolve every emotional issue or ensure every detail of co-parenting works smoothly—especially when one parent is high-conflict or thrives on creating chaos.

In high-conflict custody battles, the courtroom is often incapable of bringing peace. A judge might issue an order, but the day-to-day challenges parents face after that ruling often go unaddressed. And so the conflict continues—sometimes for years—until the child turns eighteen. The legal system, for all its purpose, cannot force wisdom or maturity. It can’t mandate peace.

This is where faith comes in. As a Christian attorney, I have come to believe that my calling is not just to represent clients, but to be a vessel—to be used by God to offer guidance rooted in wisdom, not just legal knowledge. And not just worldly wisdom, but godly discernment—spirit-led, not ego-led.

Sometimes, a client comes to me fired up and ready to act. “File this motion.” “We need a hearing.” “This can’t wait.” And I understand that urgency. But part of my job is to pause, pray, and see the bigger picture. I may know the judge, the timing, and how a particular issue is likely to be handled. And I might advise, “Let’s wait.” Not out of passivity, but out of strategy—and more importantly, out of faith.

I don’t give this advice lightly. I know that sometimes waiting can feel like letting your child be exposed to a harmful pattern. But I also know the power of patience. I’ve seen time and again that when we let the truth reveal itself, and give the other parent enough rope, the result at final hearing is often far more protective and impactful for the child than any premature motion could have been.

We’re not talking about ignoring danger or putting kids at risk. We’re talking about refusing to act out of emotion—refusing to let anger, fear, or bitterness drive decisions in a case where those very emotions are being weaponized.

I tell clients: if you’re angry, hurt, or overwhelmed—wait. Pray. Don’t make decisions in that place. That’s where I come in—not to replace your voice, but to stand in the gap between your emotions and your legal actions. To be a steady hand, led by something higher than either of us.

And I’m not perfect. I’m not claiming to always have the answer. But I can promise this: I will seek the answer. I will pray for discernment. I will not make a move unless I’ve sought peace about it in my spirit. I’ve never regretted advice that came from a place of faith. And I’ve never seen God steer me wrong.

Legal battles are not won with just statutes and case law. In family law, outcomes are often based on judicial discretion—what one person thinks is fair or appropriate on a given day, in a particular courtroom, based on what they have seen or heard. You could line up ten judges and get ten different rulings on the same facts.

So if we, as attorneys, are trying to predict and prepare for imperfect decisions made by imperfect people, we must be grounded in something greater than ourselves. That’s why I study my Bible. That’s why I seek wisdom from the Spirit, not the system.

Because while court orders come and go, God’s guidance never changes. He sees the long game. He lets us endure trials for a reason—to produce endurance, to reveal truth, to bring about justice in His time.

And so no, I’m not the solution. But I want to be used. I want to be a vessel of peace, of strategy, of faith. I want to help clients not just survive their case, but walk through it with integrity.

If you’re in the midst of a custody battle and feel lost, remember this: the courtroom may not fix it. But God can. And until He does, I’ll be here to help you hold the line.