These days, it doesn’t take long. You open the news, glance at your phone, overhear a conversation — and something in the air feels heavier than it used to. The world seems louder. More unsettled. And for many of us, that weight is hard to shake.
I’ve felt it too. I won’t pretend otherwise.
But here’s what I also know — and what years of writing about spiritual warfare has burned into me so deeply I can’t unknow it: darkness making noise is not the same as darkness winning. And those two things are very, very different.
“Darkness that is loud and visible is darkness that is scared. It is the quiet kind you never see coming that you have to watch for.”
Think about every story you’ve ever loved — every book, every film, every tale passed down through generations. The darkest moment always comes just before the turning point. Always. That is not a coincidence. That is a pattern written into the fabric of how things work. The night is longest just before the dawn. The storm is loudest just before it breaks. The enemy presses hardest when he senses something is about to shift.
I write supernatural thrillers because I believe in the battle. I believe it is real, organized, and intelligent. But I also believe — with every fiber of my being — that it is a battle already decided. The question is never whether good wins. The question is whether we have the courage to stand while the outcome is still unfolding.
Today’s headlines are not evidence that God has lost the plot. They are evidence that we are in the middle of the story — not the end of it. And if you’ve read enough stories, you know the middle is always the hardest part. The middle is where hope is tested. Where faith stops being comfortable and starts being real.
I think of the people I write about — ordinary men and women standing against forces far greater than themselves. They are not brave because they are unafraid. They are brave because they act anyway. They choose to believe that what they cannot see is more powerful than what they can. That is not naivety. That is the most radical, countercultural act available to any of us right now.
In a world that is screaming, choose quiet confidence. In a world drowning in fear, choose deliberate hope. Not the wishful kind — the kind with roots. The kind that has read the end of the book and knows how it finishes.
Scripture has never promised us a comfortable world. It has promised us something better — a present help in trouble. A peace that passes understanding. A light that the darkness has never, in all of history, managed to put out. Not once. Not ever.
So when the news feels like too much — and it will again tomorrow — remember this: you are not watching the world fall apart. You are watching the middle of the story. And the middle, no matter how dark, is not the final word.
Hope is not gone. It is not losing. It is not naive or foolish or blind to what’s happening. Hope is the most well-informed position available, because it knows something fear doesn’t — that this is not how the story ends.
Keep reading. Keep believing. The next chapter is coming.
Mary Ann Poll is the author of the Ravens Cove supernatural thriller series. The Tide Weaver (Book 6) is available now on Amazon. Her podcast, Real Ghost Chatter, is live now — true supernatural accounts that will make you wonder where fiction ends, and something else begins. Visit spotify.com to learn more.