He thought it would be a simple climb.
A missionary in Argentina, far from home but not far from confidence, sets out one morning with a plan: reach the summit, return by evening, and perhaps even celebrate with a proper meal. The Andes, however, are not known for accommodating plans.
What begins as a determined ascent quickly becomes something else.
The trail disappears. The mountain stretches endlessly. And when night falls, it does so completely-erasing landmarks, swallowing direction, and turning even the most familiar ground into something uncertain. Cliffs emerge without warning. Safe paths are missed entirely. Each decision carries weight, though not always understanding.
Through it all, the tone remains unexpectedly human-laced with dry humor, misjudgment, and the quiet persistence of someone who keeps moving forward even when he probably shouldn't.
But beneath the adventure-beneath the exhaustion, the danger, and the long, disorienting night-something deeper is unfolding.
Months earlier, a single idea had lodged itself in his mind, both compelling and confusing. A statement attributed to C. S. Lewis:
"I believe in Jesus Christ like I believe that the sun has risen-not because I see it, but because by it I see all things."
At the time, it had sounded powerful.
Also, somewhat incomprehensible.
Because belief, to him, had always been simpler. Clearer. Something learned, repeated, and held onto-not something that illuminated everything else. Not something that changed how you saw the world.
So he set it aside.
Until the mountain.
Until the darkness.
Until the moment when not seeing became the greatest danger of all.
As the night unfolds, the physical journey begins to mirror something far more personal. The cliffs he cannot see. The false holds that wound instead of support. The path he steps over without realizing it is there. Each moment begins to echo something familiar-something not confined to the mountain.
And slowly, almost reluctantly, understanding begins to take shape.
This is not a story about perfect faith.
It is a story about learning to see.
Told with wit, humility, and an unflinching honesty about both human error and quiet grace, The Sun Has Risen is a journey through mountains both literal and spiritual. It explores what happens when confidence runs out, when clarity disappears, and when the only way forward is to trust a light you don't yet fully understand.
Because sometimes, it isn't until everything goes dark...that you finally begin to see.
Bill Wylson is the author of over 50 published writings on family values, religious issues, and religious education. His work has appeared in The Ensign, This People, The New Era, Liberty Magazine, Success, and others.
Bill graduated as a commercial copywriter from the Columbia School of Broadcasting in Hollywood, CA. He wrote trade journal ads for a major advertising agency in Los Angeles and public service announcements for a Los Angeles television station.
He has served as a volunteer Board Member of Advocates of Single Parent Youth, Special Fun Games for the Disabled, and on the Boards of Arts and Theater Councils. He has also served on Advisory Committees for the Volunteer Center of Los Angeles and on the United Way Government Affairs Committee.
Bill Wylson currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.
