I can trust in Jesus. And this Gospel that we preach does work.

“I can trust in Jesus. And this Gospel that we preach does work. So those who are hurting and suffering today, hang in there. The sun will shine again.” Thus spoke Tammy Faye Bakker, a woman who knew both the heights of acclaim and the depths of trial. Her words, though simple, burn with eternal truth: that in the darkest valleys of life, when all else fails, the soul may yet rest upon trust—not in fleeting powers or human strength, but in the everlasting foundation of faith. For the Gospel, the good news of hope and redemption, is not mere theory but living power, tested in suffering and proven in endurance.

The ancients would have heard these words with reverence, for faith has ever been the lantern of those who walk in shadows. To trust is to anchor oneself to something unseen, to believe that beyond night there is dawn, and beyond sorrow there is joy. As the psalmist declared, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” Tammy Faye echoed this ancient melody when she told the brokenhearted: “The sun will shine again.” For despair is not eternal, and the storms of life, though fierce, cannot last forever.

Consider the story of Job, who sat in ashes, stripped of wealth, family, and health. All that could be taken was taken from him, yet he clung to faith, declaring, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.” In time, his fortunes were restored, but more importantly, his testimony endured as a beacon for all generations: that suffering, though bitter, is not the end, and that trust in God is the path through which the sun breaks again. Tammy Faye’s words find their roots in this same soil of ancient perseverance.

Her own life, too, was a testament. In scandal, in public shame, in the crumbling of what she once built, she did not deny her faith but clung to it all the more fiercely. She faced not only the sneers of the world but the private pain of illness, yet still declared: “The Gospel works.” It was not prosperity she promised, nor an escape from all pain, but the assurance that faith provides strength, courage, and light when all else is dark. This was her gift to those who listened: not perfection, but hope.

The lesson is clear: when you are hurting and suffering, do not surrender to despair. Remember that sorrow is a season, not a destiny. Life may wound, but faith gives healing; time may break, but God restores. To “hang in there,” as she urged, is not weakness but courage, the steadfastness of a soul that refuses to let darkness have the final word. For the sun that sets will surely rise again, and the night that terrifies will yield to morning light.

Practical wisdom follows: in moments of pain, lean upon faith—whether in God, in love, or in the strength of those who walk beside you. Speak words of hope even when your heart trembles, for what you declare shapes what you endure. Surround yourself with those who lift you up, and seek the light of each day, even if it is but a flicker. And when you meet others in suffering, remind them too: “The sun will shine again.” For hope, when shared, multiplies, becoming a shield for many.

So let Tammy Faye’s words endure as a balm across the ages: “I can trust in Jesus.” Let them remind us that faith is not a fragile ornament, but a fortress. Let them encourage us that the Gospel is not a story of despair, but of triumph. And let them assure us, in every trial we face, that though the night may be long, the dawn will break, and the sun—faithful and radiant—will shine once more.