There is an appointed time for everything . . .
A time to weep and a time to laugh . . .
A Time to mourn and a time to dance . . . (Ecc. 3:1, 4)
More than a decade after our family’s fight against childhood cancer, we are in the midst of a joyful season of celebration and gratitude. Watching my son beat leukemia was one of God’s greatest gifts in my life. To see him graduating from high school and thriving as a young man is a profound blessing that has me carrying around a box of Kleenex.
A few years back, I wrote a book called Hope When Life Unravels (still available wherever books are sold) in order to capture many of the lessons God taught us during those more difficult years. This week, two particular reminders from the past weigh heavily on my mind as we rest in the beauty of the present.
Fatherhood Matters
Why did God make me sick, Daddy? The question took my breath away. His big blue eyes peered over his medical mask as the plane engine hummed beneath us. My son was searching for answers, trying to make sense of the God who loved him and the trial that shattered his childhood innocence. That was just one of many moments when my son looked to me for reassurance and stability.
Children need an active, spiritual father to guide them through life. Motherhood is equally important, to be sure, but fathers play a unique role in the spiritual development and nurture of their kids. Because God expects husbands and fathers to lead their families, refusing to do so creates a damaging vacuum in the home. Teaching my children to love and trust God at all times was, and is, my responsibility. I must connect with them. They need my example. I should encourage them while also holding them accountable. I cannot delegate this sacred duty (Deut. 6:5-7).
Though I would like to tell you this always came naturally for me, I cannot. Despite believing that my son should be a better kid because of his dad, in reality, I am a much better father because of him. Battling leukemia left no room for my laziness, and I’m grateful. The testing of our faith produced an endurance that still strengthens us today (James 1:3).
Life Is Not About Me—or Even the People I Love
The most surprising realization that came during my son’s ordeal was that, despite God’s willingness to mold and teach our family through it all, the trial was not primarily about the Dooley family. Over the course of three years, I continually reminded my son that God had a plan for his sickness even if we didn’t know what it was and even if it did not relate directly to us. With childlike faith, he accepted my assurance as true. Amazingly, I do not remember one instance when he complained about his illness. Instinctively, he seemed to know that more was at stake than the outcome of his suffering.
The same is true for you.
How can I be so sure? The story of Job is often a source of strength for those facing hardship, but tucked behind the drama of the opening chapters is a powerful truth to help us face tragedy with a different perspective. After Satan mocked the notion that people worship God for who He is rather than what He does for them, the Lord presented Job as a test case (Job 1:9-12). The real focus of the scene, however, is the glory of God rather than the faithfulness of His servant.
Despite our tendency to look insatiably for the cause and effect behind every burden we face, sometimes we are mere background characters in a much bigger story. Yes, we can learn important life lessons during seasons of pain, but even then, the promotion of divine glory is often the main agenda. Our stories are to be living testimonies of the beauty and worthiness of our great God.
If you find yourself in a season of hurting, I’d love to pray for you. Feel free to email me, and I will gladly lift your name and situation before the Lord.
Adam B. Dooley
May 6, 2026

