There is a specific kind of exhaustion that comes from pleading with the heavens. It is a wearying of the soul that happens when you have spent days—or even weeks—begging for relief that doesn’t seem to arrive. For Will, the last few days haven’t just been a physical battle; they have been a spiritual wilderness.
We often talk about “faith like a child,” envisioning it as something simple, unbreakable, and bright. But real faith—the kind that is forged in the furnace of chronic pain and chemotherapy—is often messy. It is loud. It is filled with questions that have no easy answers. Over the past few days, we watched Will wrestle with a weight that was far heavier than any physical burden. He was wrestling with the silence of God.
The Struggle in the Shadows
It is hard to watch someone you love go through a “dark night of the soul.” Will has struggled deeply. In the midst of pain that felt relentless, he did what we are taught to do: he prayed. He begged. He pleaded with God to take the agony away, to give his body a moment of respite, to show him a sign that he wasn’t alone in the fire.
But the relief didn’t come. At least, not in the way he expected.
When pain remains despite fervent prayer, it tests the heart in ways that are impossible to put into words. You could see the toll it took on him—a shadow that fell over his spirit. It’s a vulnerable thing to admit, but it’s the truth: his faith was being tested in the ultimate crucible. He was asking the “Why?” that has echoed through human history. Why the pain? Why now? Why me?
In those moments, the house felt heavy. The air felt thick with a sadness that medicine couldn’t touch. We stayed close, we held his hand, and we waited in the silence with him.
The Shift in the Atmosphere
Tonight, however, something shifted. It wasn’t a loud, thunderous event. It didn’t come with a flash of light or a sudden medical breakthrough. It was a quiet, internal movement—a turning of the tide in the hidden depths of his heart.
After the visitors had left and the house settled into its evening quiet, Will looked at me. There was a different look in his eyes—a clarity that hadn’t been there for days. He told me he felt something he couldn’t quite explain: an overwhelming sense of peace and happiness. It wasn’t that the physical circumstances had miraculously vanished, but the weight of them had been lifted.
He told me he needed to go upstairs. He didn’t want to go up to rest or to hide away; he wanted to go up to be alone with God. He felt a sudden, urgent need to say “thank you” and to share the things that had been stirred in his heart during that moment of peace.
As a parent, you learn to recognize these holy moments. I watched him go, feeling a mix of awe and a strange, hopeful trembling. I knew that something significant was happening between a boy and his Creator.
The Photo and the Mystery
A little while later, Will came back downstairs. He didn’t say much at first, but he handed me his phone and showed me a photo he had taken.
When I looked at it, I felt the breath catch in my throat. I’m sharing that photo with all of you now, not because I have a perfect explanation for it, but because I believe some things are meant to be witnessed together. Even as I post it, I don’t fully know what it represents. I don’t know if it’s a trick of the light, a reflection of his soul, or a direct message from above.
Perhaps it doesn’t need a technical explanation. Perhaps what it represents is the very thing Will felt: Presence. It represents the moment the wrestling stopped and the resting began. It is a visual testament to the fact that even when we feel abandoned in the dark, there is a Light that refuses to go out. We can take it in together—each of us seeing what we need to see in those colors and shadows.
The Restoration of Hope
What I do know is this: I am deeply, profoundly thankful to God for His gentleness. God didn’t respond to Will’s questioning or his frustration with a lecture; He responded with a restorative peace. He met Will in the middle of his struggle and gently led him back to a place of trust.
For the past few days, we have been holding our breath. We have been mourning the “heaviness” that had settled over Will. But tonight, that heaviness has been replaced by a light that feels old and new all at once. It is the peace that the Bible describes as “passing all understanding.” It’s the kind of peace that doesn’t make sense given the circumstances, which is exactly why it is so powerful.
A Warrior’s Spirit
Will is a warrior, but tonight he reminded us that even warriors need to be held. He reminded us that it’s okay to struggle, it’s okay to cry out, and it’s okay to demand answers from the heavens. Because on the other side of that struggle, there is a Father waiting to restore what was lost.
The light is back in his eyes. The heaviness has lifted from our home. And as we look at this photo together, I hope you feel even a fraction of the peace that Will found tonight.
Whatever you are wrestling with—whatever “dark night” you find yourself in—don’t stop pleading. Don’t stop praying. Because the shift is coming. The light is stubborn, and it always finds a way back in.
Thank you for walking this road with us. Thank you for being part of the community that held Will up when he felt he was falling. Tonight, we celebrate a victory that didn’t happen in a doctor’s office, but in the quiet, sacred corners of a young man’s heart.
#WillStrong #Testimony #FaithOverFear #LightInTheDarkness #PeaceBeStill #WarriorSpirit #GodIsFaithful #TheShift
