When Faith Freezes: Rediscovering God After A Daughter’s Death
- Dr. Jon Thompson
- Apr 1
- 8 min read
By Dr. Jon Thompson
Louise sat before me; hands folded in her lap. Her diminutive frame the polar opposite of her towering intellect.
Her face bore the unmistakable marks of a soul trying hard to stay composed in the face of overwhelming grief. At 82, she still carried the poise of the distinguished scholar she once was – a retired professor of African-American studies at a large university – she had spent her life teaching others how to articulate struggle and triumph in the same breath.
Yet here, in the quiet of my office, speech itself seemed like an intrusion.
Now she was simply a mother.A mother who had lost her only daughter.
Her daughter’s death had been as brutal as it was sudden.
Cancer. Fast, merciless, uncooperative with both medicine and prayer. And when Louise thought the worst had already come, the daughter’s husband – a ruthless, controlling man – had her cremated immediately, refusing Louise even the simple mercy of goodbye. She sent her prayers to the heavens like incense only to feel them fall back as ash.
“I don’t think my prayers get past the ceiling these days.” She has a rich, vivid way with words.
“I don’t know if this makes sense,” she told me. “But it feels like the negative emotion – the solid block of ice inside of me – has broken apart this last week. Now it feels like blocks of ice stacked in my chest. Sometimes I think they’re melting, and sometimes I think they’re just shifting.”
Her metaphor was exquisite and exact.
I learned quickly to expect nothing less from her. The psyche has its tectonic movements, sometimes noticeable only to the one standing at the epicenter.
I’ve also learned the importance of listening for metaphors like that. They’re the soul’s fingerprints. Grief – real grief – doesn’t weep; it crystallizes.
It preserves what was unbearable to touch. You don’t melt that kind of ice by forcing warmth upon it; you sit in the cold long enough for the heart’s temperature to rise naturally again.
I let her words sit.
Grief is its own unique element, like water or like fire. It behaves according to its own physics. To comfort too soon is to interrupt nature.
“I’d like to share something with you,” I said. “Carl Jung was a brilliant psychologist, he once wrote: ‘That which you most need to find will be found where you least want to look.’”
Louise closed her eyes briefly and nodded slowly in a silent show of thanks - as though I’d given her something of great value. She stared at me with quiet intensity. “None of us are immune to its consequences,” I said. “Including me.”
Her eyes flicked toward mine – dark, steady, intelligent even through tears. She knew what I was implying: that the place to look was precisely the one she still feared – the place of her anger at God and the meaning of her daughter’s death.
“You’re well on your way to understanding; you're asking the right questions, Louise. I can tell you where you need to go if you want me to, but be warned: it will be hurt and you won’t like it.” I said gently.
“No,” she said quickly, almost sharply.
“Don’t tell me. It might hurt too much. I’ll think about it when I’m alone.” Then she whispered, “But I know you know.”
Her refusal wasn’t rejection; it was a sacred boundary, a recognition that some truths must be discovered in solitude.
In that moment, I was struck by a paradox as old as the faith we shared – that we often resist healing the very wound that would set us free.
Like Jacob on the banks of the Jabbok, she was wrestling with the Divine, unwilling to let Him bless her until she had first demanded an answer. And perhaps that is in part what faith really is – not childish obedience, not simple serenity, but the courage to enter A Dark Night of the Soul without a map. The Psalms of lament do not explain suffering; they give it language.
Some of the crosses we bear are not solved; they are endured.
There, in that exchange, something quietly sacred unfolded. Jung was right: truth hides behind the door marked 'Enter at Your Own Risk'. It’s the psychological twin of Christ’s theological paradox: only by losing your life will you find it.
Both demand the same thing: courage to step into what feels like death in order to discover what’s indestructible.
I press on, “When Jung spoke of what we most need residing in the place we least want to look, he wasn’t speaking about facing your fears. He was speaking about integrating them. The shadow contains the lost, unsavory parts of our faith. The doubts, the rage, the despair – these aren’t the enemies of our soul; they are its exiled children.”
That brought another brief stint of silence from her.
Not the sterile silence of emotional shutdown, but the charged stillness that precedes revelation.
When she left the office that afternoon, I could still feel the chill she had described. Those blocks of ice in her chest, heavy and cold, but no longer inert. But something in her had shifted ever so slightly. Perhaps that was the beginning of the thaw.
I am convinced that every human being, sooner or later, must confront that frozen chamber inside themselves. It’s the place where grief and God meet and glare at one another across the cold silence. It’s there, in that confrontation, that the ice begins to crack. It is there that faith ceases to be an inherited creed and becomes a living part of us.
We pray for solid ground, but faith often begins with the sound of breaking. We ask for comfort and receive confrontation. We cry for deliverance and God hands us a mirror.
But that, perhaps, is what redemption actually looks like from the inside: the slow, perilous thaw of everything we’ve sealed away from life and love. And when it finally melts, the water doesn’t drown us.
It baptizes us.
Louise’s blocks of ice were not her enemy; they were her truth, waiting to flow again. And though she told me not to tell her where to look, I suspect she already knows. Because when the ice finally breaks, it does not reveal emptiness, it reveals living water.
And as Jung foresaw (and Job, David, and Paul all knew) the deepest encounter with our Creator is found not in the sanctuary of understanding, but in the dark dungeon of our most dreaded feelings.
That willing confrontation is precisely what sets us free. The place we least want to look is the place where resurrection hides.
“Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” – John 12:24
Spring has a way of reminding us that some of the most meaningful growth happens quietly. Long before anything looks different on the outside, something important is already taking root, and that feels especially true at Peace Partnership in this season.
We wanted to share our Spring Report here as a reminder of the impact you have helped make possible. Many of you may have already received it in the mail, but we never want to miss an opportunity to reflect back to you the lives you are helping touch through your generosity.
More than anything, we simply want to say thank you. We are deeply grateful for you and for the way you continue to come alongside this work with such kindness and compassion, helping create space for hope, healing, and real forward movement for so many individuals and families.
As we work to fill the last few team spots, this moment carries more impact than it may seem.
Every team that joins helps strengthen not only the event, but the care that will come from it. Behind every registration is the opportunity to help make counseling more accessible for someone who may not know how they are going to afford the support they need.
Our hope is to finish strong, fill the remaining spots, and see this event reach its full potential. If you have been thinking about bringing a team, we would be so grateful to have you with us.
It is a meaningful way to enjoy a great day while also helping make care possible for someone who truly needs it.
Registration Includes:
breakfast + lunch, 100 clays per shooter, team cart, prizes, swag bag, and 1 raffle ticket per shooter
$500 — Team of 4 shooters
$125 each — (Each Shooter Pays Separately)
$150 — Solo shooter (We’ll Place You On A Team)
Additional raffle tickets:
3 for $10
6 for $20 •
30 for $100
The future of Peace Partnership is continuing to take shape because of your generous support and belief in our mission. We are truly grateful for the part you play in what is ahead, and we look forward to sharing exciting news soon.
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We’ll only text occasionally with important updates, monthly newsletter highlights, event reminders, and urgent needs.
As we step into April, we are especially grateful for the hearts behind this mission.
Your monthly support is so much more than a gift. It is a reflection of your compassion, your faith, and your willingness to come alongside this work in a deeply meaningful way. Because of your generosity, this mission continues to grow, more doors continue to open, and more individuals and families are able to find the support they need.
Thank you for believing in what God is doing through Peace Partnership. Thank you for sharing our mission, for the connections you make, for the encouragement you give, and for the steady way you help make this work possible month after month.
Anonymous, Aaron Linn, Andre & Rose Fantasma, Blue Springs Christian Church, Brandon & Vanessa Blanchard, Charles & Arletta McCrary, Children’s Services Fund of Jackson County, Church at Coffee Creek, Christy Yager, Cyndi Eskina, Dan & Gigi Rippee, Dave & Rosie Bourland, Denise Israel, ECA, EPR Properties, Genesis Counseling, Greg & Jennifer Spears, Jackson County Missouri, Jason & Val Schram, Jeremiah 924 Foundation, Jenny Wrobleski, Joel & Ruthie Morris, John & Vicki Hefner, John Otradovec, Jondy & Heather Britton, Jon & Naomi Thompson, Lance & Mandi Pollard, Lee & Debbie Miller, Lydia Hurley, Mark & Cathy McGaughey, Mark McDonald, Matt & Kristy Newton, Michael & Julie Hirons, Mike & Carol Jackson, Mike & Jan McGraw, Mike & Tracy Pruitt, Phil & Jo Rydman, Rick & Kathy Daulton, Roger & Jennifer Madsen, Rudy & Stacy Blahnik, Shelly Schuman, Stone Amp SEO, Tamara Stroud, The Giving Branch, Timothy & Lori Raveill, Willie & Adia Valdes, Zane & Melissa Morerod.
From every corner of this ministry, thank you. Your generosity is the reason we can keep showing up for kids, for families, and for healing that lasts.
We’d love to schedule a time to share more about Peace Partnership and the heart behind what we do. You’re welcome to visit our office for a quick tour, and we’ll make you a fresh pour-over coffee while you’re here. Or we’d love to treat you to coffee at a local coffee shop and connect that way.
Most of all, thank you for supporting our mission and for being open to learning more.
For more information or to schedule a time, contact:
Ashley Kirn,
Director of Development
816.716.1847
Have you or someone you know been helped by Peace Partnership or Genesis Counseling? If so, would you consider paying it forward so another person can begin their journey?
If you are not currently partnering with us financially, we invite you to consider a recurring gift of $100 per year for the next 3 years.
Together, those gifts help us meet real needs and keep counseling accessible.
You can set up your recurring donation online, or call our office!
Thank you for helping change lives one family at a time.
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