I was recently praying about how I should share my testimony, and then something unexpected happened. I was asked to share it in church. That alone felt like a clear reminder to be careful what you pray for! I'm now sharing it here, with you. 

It’s not easy to open up and talk about something so personal, but I believe testimonies matter. Hearing how others put their trust in Jesus was a big part of my own journey. Their stories helped me, so, I hope my testimony might help someone too.

I’ve always believed that a good father should be more than a protector and provider. He should prepare his children for the world, be emotionally present, take time to listen, engage, and truly enjoy being with them. I wish I could say I’ve always lived up to that… but there was a time when I fell short.

In 2016, Rachael and I gave away nearly everything we owned. We left the UK to live in Cambodia and set up a social enterprise. We were where we belonged, making a difference. It was such an exciting time.

But three years later, when COVID restrictions came in, we lost everything—our home, our income, and our sense of purpose. We had to come back to the UK with nothing and give up on our new life. We had to start again from scratch, rebuying the same things we’d once given away. Our choices had led us into a trap, and we couldn’t seem to escape. Every step felt like a battle.

Through it all, I tried to carry the weight myself. I told myself to hold it together, keep going, push through. Then, not long after we returned, my dad was diagnosed with cancer and soon passed away.

The weight got heavier.

I wanted to take away my mum’s pain but knew I couldn’t. Losing my dad also made me realise something else; my children were losing part of their dad too. I needed to step up. But nothing I tried seemed to work. I started to stress over small things and buried myself in work, pushing away the people I loved most.

I was totally adrift—lost at sea—slowly heading to a dark place, far away from the man I wanted to be for my family.

At my lowest, I came across a quote from someone called Nick Freitas. It said:

“A father should be the calm in the storm, not the storm.”

That line hit me hard—because I realised I had become the storm.

The quote forced me to stop and seriously look at myself. I had to do something. The man who shared it also talked about how his faith helped him through a dark time.

I was an atheist back then, but I was desperate and willing to try anything. So, I prayed for the first time. Not because I had some grand revelation, but because I had nothing left to lose.

I bought a Bible and started reading it. I called out to God for help, not knowing what I believed, or if anyone was listening. I focused on what I was grateful for, and I asked God to help me become a better father and husband. I surrendered myself and my problems to Him.

Then slowly, quietly, things began to change. I started sleeping better. I didn’t feel so angry at the world. I felt present again.

To my surprise I found something else. I found peace. A peace like nothing I’d ever experienced.

My family noticed the change and I knew exactly where it came from.

God had rescued me—drifting—right where I was. In the middle of my storm. And slowly, He guided me back to shore.

I learned that although life can feel chaotic, unpredictable, and cruel—God provides us with an abundant source of peace and strength. That peace shifts our focus away from the noise and negativity and directs it back toward what truly matters.

One passage that sums this up for me is Philippians 4:6–7:

“Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

Trying to explain that peace is difficult. In a world that equates strength with noise or boldness of action, peace can sound like weakness. But it’s not.
Peace in adversity is strength.

Think of a rock in a stormy sea. It stands calmly while the waves crash around it. In the same way, a father’s calmness isn’t passive or soft, it’s a deliberate choice to be the stabilising force his family needs. That stability absorbs the chaos, provides a safe harbour, and becomes a beacon of hope when they feel lost.

There’s a powerful moment in Mark 4, when the disciples are in a boat with Jesus during a storm. They’re terrified. Everything feels out of control. But Jesus is asleep, perfectly calm. They wake Him up, and He says:

“Peace. Be still.”

And just like that, the storm stops.

I love that story. Jesus didn’t abandon them when things got rough. He was with them the whole time, right in the middle of their troubles. His strength got them through. His peace calmed their storm.

And He can calm ours too.

Last year, we were finally back on track. Things were going great. Then, out of nowhere, my mum suddenly became ill and weeks later, she passed away.

I wouldn’t have got through that time without Jesus by my side. The peace I’d found in Him was still with me and it only grew stronger. Looking back, it should have been even harder than when my dad passed. But somehow, everything felt under control. And I know it wasn’t me. It was God.

This year I’ve been focusing on prayer and reading His Word daily. It’s changing my life.

One verse that keeps pushing me forward—especially as a father—is 1 Corinthians 16:13–14:

“Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, quit you like men, be strong. Let all that you do be done in charity.”

It’s so powerful.

We’re called to:
Be alert in a fallen world.
Be anchored in faith.
Be courageous.
Be strong.
But do it all in love.

Paul says “all that you do,” not some of what you do. Because strength without love? That becomes another storm.
But strength with love? That becomes something others can rely on.

And that’s what I want to give my family. Not perfection. Not all the answers. But someone they can count on. Someone who stands firm, loves deeply, and trusts God.

I’ve learned I can turn to the ultimate Father for guidance and for the peace I need to carry on.

That peace doesn’t make our problems disappear, but it does remind us that we no longer have to face them alone.

This isn’t only my experience—it’s His promise.

“He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him.
With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.”
—Psalm 91:15–16

That’s exactly what He did for me.

So if you’re feeling worn down or like you’re drifting…

Know this: God sees you. He hasn’t left you.
And no matter how far off course you feel, He wants to bring you home.
All you have to do is call upon Him.

I’m still growing as a father, and sometimes I fail.

But by God’s grace,
I’m learning not to be the storm they have to navigate, but the calm that guides them through.

Lee

L. C. Fox-Smith