Tiffany Wendt was thirty-four years old. A minister. A mother. The kind of woman who had spent years helping other people through their worst moments. She knew the scriptures about healing. She knew the promises about peace. She had prayed them over other people countless times.
Then in December 2016, the phone rang. Stage 3 breast cancer. Aggressive. The kind that requires chemotherapy, a double mastectomy, more chemotherapy, radiation, and reconstructive surgery. The kind that takes everything from you before it gives anything back.
The Diagnosis
There is no way to prepare for that call. Not when you are thirty-four. Not when you have children. Not when your entire life has been built on telling other people that God is faithful. Tiffany knew the theology. She preached it. But knowing something in your head and knowing it at three in the morning when the house is quiet and the diagnosis is real — those are two different things entirely.
The Fear
About five months into treatment, the fear arrived. Not a vague unease. Not a passing worry. The kind of fear that grabs your chest and shows you pictures of everything you will miss. Tiffany saw her children's weddings — without her. She saw grandchildren she would never hold. She saw the years stretching out in front of her family with an empty seat at the table.
She had never really understood what people meant when they said they struggled with fear. Now she knew. It was not a weakness. It was a weight that pressed on your lungs and made it hard to breathe.
The Encounter
Tiffany did something that day that changed everything. She collapsed on the sofa and told the Lord, plainly and honestly, that she was not moving from that spot until He answered her. She was done pretending she was handling it. She was done being the strong minister. She was afraid, and she needed God to show up.
Within moments, the fear lifted. Not gradually. Not over days. Within moments, peace replaced fear. The kind of peace that does not come from good news or positive test results or someone telling you it will be okay. The kind that settles into your body like warmth and says: I am here. You are not carrying this alone.
Tiffany started keeping a journal of scriptures about healing and God's promises. She went back to them every time the fear tried to return. Not as a formula. As a conversation. She was talking to the God who had met her on that sofa, and He kept answering.
The Healing
The treatment was brutal. Chemotherapy. Surgery. More chemotherapy. Radiation. Reconstruction. It was a long road with no shortcuts. But through every round, every hospital visit, every moment when the fear tried to creep back in — the peace held.
Tiffany shared her story at the 2018 Bridging the Gap Thrive Conference, and something remarkable happened. A nine-year-old girl in the audience who had been struggling with fear and could not sleep heard Tiffany's testimony, went home, confronted her own fears, and felt relief. The peace was contagious.
What This Means for You
If you are five months into treatment and the fear has finally caught up with you — you are not failing. You are human. Tiffany Wendt was a minister. She preached faith for a living. And she still needed to collapse on a sofa and tell God she was not moving until He showed up.
That is not weak faith. That is honest faith. And honest faith is the kind God responds to.
You do not have to be strong enough to beat the fear on your own. You just have to be honest enough to say: I am afraid, and I need You. God met Tiffany in that moment. He will meet you in yours.
