Incredible Men,
Last Tuesday, for the first time since I started writing to you, I did not send this email. Not late. Not shortened. Missing.
A nerve in my leg got trapped and lit up like a wire pulled too tight. Standing hurts. Walking hurts. Some days lying still on the floor is the only relief I get. I have been down for the count, and I am recovering — but slowly.
I could have used that as an excuse to disappear for a few weeks. Instead I want to take you into what's actually been happening in me, because I think some of you are living in the same room I've been living in.
There's a phrase for it: the dark night of the soul. It's the place where positive thinking stops working. Where doing the right things, saying the right things, staying disciplined and upbeat — the stuff that usually carries you — goes quiet, and you're left with a body that won't cooperate and a future you can't see.
Here's what I've learned lying flat on my back this week: having faith in yourself is not the same thing as having faith in God. Believing you'll pull through because you're tough, because you're positive, because you're a good man who does the right thing — that's not bad. But it's not faith. Not real faith. That's confidence in you.
Faith is different. Faith says: if God said it, He will do it. Whether or not I can feel it, prove it, or explain it yet.
So here's what I've been doing in the dark night instead of just gritting my teeth:
I've been watching my mouth. "Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits." (Proverbs 18:21) I don't get to speak defeat over my body all day and then wonder why I feel defeated. So I'm choosing what I say over myself, out loud, on purpose.
I've been standing on who God said He is, not just what I hope He'll do. "I am the LORD who heals you." (Exodus 15:26) He is Jehovah Rapha whether my leg agrees with Him yet or not. I don't get a vote on His name. I get to decide whether I'll believe it.
And I've been leaning on this one hard: "If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Romans 8:31) Not "who can hurt us" — things can still hurt. But who can actually stand against me, when the God who spoke the universe into existence is for me? Nobody. Nothing. Not a trapped nerve. Not an uncertain future.
Are you in a dark night of the soul right now? Where you've done everything right and it still isn't working, and positive thinking has run out of gas?
Then stop trying to think your way out and start speaking and standing on what He already said. Not because it's a formula. Because it's true whether you feel it or not.
Here's something else this trial has done that I didn't ask for and wouldn't trade back. Flat on my back, on the floor, unable to move, I've fallen in love again — with my wife, with my kids, with things I used to walk past without noticing. The sun on my face. Grass under my feet. Walking to the bathroom on my own two legs. A cold glass of water. When you can't do the ordinary things anymore, you find out they were never ordinary. My heart isn't as distracted by the noise of activity right now, and for the first time in a long time, it's just present. I already love my wife and my kids and you, but now, I love way more than I did three weeks ago. This didn't take that from me. It gave it to me.
It's changed how I hear too. "Blessed be the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." (2 Corinthians 1:3-4) I'm not writing to you today as a pastor or coach who has it all figured out. I'm writing as a man who's been comforted, so I can empathize with whatever weakness you're carrying — not from a distance, but from having been there.
I don't know exactly what the road back looks like for me yet. I know I'm walking it slower than I want to. But I know God is for me, I know He is Jehovah Rapha, and I know I love the people in my life more than I did before this started — and I've decided that's what I'm going to believe and speak, one day at a time, until it lines up with what I already know is true.
With you in the fight,
Pastor D
You're receiving this email because you matter to God — and you matter to me. Whether we've met or not, I'm for you, I believe in you, and I'm praying that you step fully into who God created you to be. I consider you an Incredible Man — not because you're perfect, but because you're called. Called to live with conviction, lead with integrity, and stand firm when life gets hard. The word incredible comes from the Latin incredibilis, meaning "not believable." It describes a man who lives differently — set apart, grounded, and unwavering.
I'm grateful you're here.
