After the death of her best friend, Aubrey Sampson was plunged into darkness by overwhelming grief, and yet she learned that even in this, there was a painful purpose to be discovered and lived.

Her journey of loss comprised three distinct phases: nightfall (its onset), midnight (its darkest hour), and night-lights (the moments of luminous adjustment). As a vibrant Christian in professional ministry, Sampson needed time to find her way through the strangeness of God’s perceived absence before she could finally conclude, “Though the darkness hide thee, O God, we trust that your presence is in the dark as it is in the light.”

What We Find in the Dark is an eyewitness account of God’s faithfulness, a beautifully written memoir with exquisite attention to word choice. Fresh grief is an “uncharitable, unchartable path,” and its whispered goodbyes are a “time of forlorn formlessness.”

Anyone who has suffered the loss of a dear person will recognize the dissonance of wanting and needing that person to process the loss. Readers walking through grief will appreciate the genuineness of Sampson’s conclusion that grief takes time, and sometimes the darkness sticks around for longer than we’d like. However, making her list of Things Found in the Dark, like a detective on a case, she found surprising gifts there, mile markers on the path leading toward hope.

“𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦.”

Thank you Navpress for the advanced readers copy!

This one is highly timely for me and I found even from the intro a comfort, a strength, a hope, for this grief-filled and challenging season I have been in for a while now. It’s this season of not knowing and being unable to know, to comprehend, to see, what God is doing and how He is still present in the midst of this “dark night of the soul.” In all honesty, I sobbed through most of this, tears a steady stream down my face.

While Sampson writes this during a time of grief when her best friend is dying from cancer and often refers to this, this book is for anyone experiencing a dark season of grief. I found a lot of comfort and insight in this one, a lot of thoughts and feelings I could identify with: things like knowing deep loss, profound sorrow, confusion, frustration, disillusionment, having a faith that wrestles, the inability to look ahead with hope, a desire to skip this time, to no longer be in pain, the weariness of being strong and pushing through, the suffocating weight of it all, the loneliness, the uncertainty, the fear.

This isn’t a “how to fix your grief” kind of book; rather it is a “how to sit in and have perspective in your grief”. A companion through the darkest of seasons. By perspective I don’t mean “every cloud has a silver lining” and other toxic positivity remarks, it’s more of how to view your hard time through other lenses that can give insight, to learn and even heal in the midst of it. It’s feeling seen in your heartache and hardship, being validated while softly guided to remain in truth because that is one thing that grief does too well: it distorts. It blinds. And that can cause us to spiral in the wrong and unhealthy paths.

I highly recommend this for any and everyone, especially those currently experiencing and those witnessing loved ones experiencing a heavy, dark season.


Just a few noteworthy quotes:

“𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘺, 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦—𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘥𝘰𝘮. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.”

“𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦. 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴’ 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘎𝘰𝘥’𝘴 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰.”

“𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘺.”

“𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵: 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.”

“𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨; 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭.”

“𝘐𝘧 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴. 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.”

“𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺, 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸: 𝘐𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨) 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵.”

What We Find in the Dark begins with these words of confession from author Aubrey Sampson: "These pages are filled with a sometimes unrelenting heartache and a painfully honest brawl with God. But they are also filled with my reach for hope and God's presence in absence." If you're looking for a painfully honest and personal journey with grief, Aubrey's story may help you feel less alone. If you're dealing with fresh grief, you may need to skip parts to come back to later. Either way, her book is a beautiful testimony of hope: "If you wrestle with God, grief can become a garden."

I think I’m aware I’ve been growing ice inside me after the double loss of my closest family: my father and my uncle. I am conscious of my pent-up anger and grief. I’m aware, but I also have no idea how to melt that ice.

Reading this book feels like a warm hug. It’s nice to acknowledge my pretending. It's comforting to know that others who are grieving are going through the same journey as me. It’s nice to be reminded to be gentle with myself. And to know that even in the darkest night, God is always with me.

This is one of the most helpful books on grief that I have ever read! This book is honest and raw, but full of hope and healing.

In "What We Find in the Dark," Aubrey Sampson writes with thoughtful tenderness, offering readers a guide to discover glimmers of hope amid life’s deepest sorrows. Through her firsthand experiences of grief and lament, she vulnerably explores what it means to seek God when His presence feels absent. Her words gently remind us that even in the darkest places, we are not alone. This book is a heartfelt companion for anyone longing to find meaning, healing, and divine presence in the midst of loss.

Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the e-arc. This is a stunning book charting a course and guide through the darkness of grief with brutal honesty that leaves hope behind. A must read for anyone in pain.

“You are healing even as you are hurting,” writes Aubrey Sampson—and then she leads readers both into, and out of, the abyss to which loss took her. By her own example, Aubrey gives us all the liberty to grieve uniquely, profoundly, and for however long it takes. I believe this book is so powerful because it’s not a formulaic “how-to.” Instead, it’s an experiential guide through blinding darkness. Sampson’s intimate chronology of her bone-aching sorrow roused pockets of my own unfinished griefs. And in her voice-giving of raw pain, her tender acceptance of it, and the grace she offers for the process of healing, my own heartaches mended a bit more. This book brought me to the very best of tears.

Darkness, dark night of the soul…midnight. Need a bit of light to help you navigate your way through grief? This book will offer you kindness and comfort through some of your darkest days.

“Grief is its own kind of pilgrimage. Your job, when you are ready, is to start looking. Notice the ways God is coming toward you in the darkness with love.”