‘God called me to improve the mental health of a million people’

Holding up his laptop during our video call, Will Petty shows me the kitchen in which God spoke to him. His assignment was daunting: to improve the mental health of a million people. “It was just there by the washing machine. I was cooking and listening to some worship music, and I felt something that just cut through absolutely everything I was doing.” 

The moment was simple – a piercing revelation amid the mundane. But the journey that preceded it  was anything but.

High flying

Petty spent his formative years in the Lake District, gazing up at military pilots training overhead. At 19, he began flight training with the Royal Air Force, eager to realise his childhood dreams. But as military life stifled the autonomy and creativity he cherished, his passion for flying began to dissipate.

His disillusion deepened when he underwent resistance-to-interrogation training. “Pilots, special forces and snipers – we’re on what you’d call a prone to capture list,” he explains. “The people in a war scenario most likely to be captured by the enemy.”

For a week he lived out that possibility – evading enemy forces in the cover of night, on minimal food and sleep before inevitably being captured. “It felt very real. There were interrogations, stress positions, sensory deprivation.” But beyond the physicality of the ordeal, it was the self-abandonment Petty felt in suffering for something he no longer believed in. It pushed him into a deep depression. 

Spiralling 

After attending the funeral of a cousin who had taken his own life, Petty feared he was treading a dangerously similar path. He had a private word with his line manager, who suggested a break, cautioning him that because of the military’s high medical standards, if he officially came forward with his mental health struggles, it could cost him his job. 

Petty chose to prioritise his wellbeing, forsaking his flying role and eventually transitioning to an administrative role, while undergoing military-provided therapy. In 2022, after years of unresolved mental health issues, he was medically discharged.

Unemployed and battling alcoholism, Petty spiralled. Then, his parents’ separation triggered what Petty referred to as a “three-day bender”. It should have resulted in a huge hangover, but Petty woke up with an unexpected and overwhelming peace, along with a compulsion to attend Rediscover Church in Exeter. Within weeks, he had given his life to Jesus.

Making a way

One Sunday, he found himself in a casual conversation with a woman at church. “She asked if I was new, then she asked what I did.” 

Petty was honest. “I said: ‘I’m unemployed right now. I want to become a therapist and help people with their mental health. But I don’t have any money, and I certainly can’t afford university.’” 

Her response? “I’m about to advertise a job tomorrow that sounds perfect for you.”

That job – working as a cognitive behavioural therapist at YMCA Exeter – became his; four months later, the supernatural vision in the kitchen took place. 

Forging faith

Petty began to develop Forging Futures, a programme that combines blacksmithing with emotional regulation. In his forge, participants shape raw metal, learning to mould their own emotional lives through the fires of their own struggles. For Petty, the metaphor is crucial. “They can treat their own processes in their life as a forge, and if they’re a believer, they can allow God to change them through adversity, to be a useful implement in his kingdom.”

The process of blacksmithing mirrors the care needed for emotional health. If the metal isn’t heated enough, hammering it is exhausting. “If overheated or hit with too much force, it shatters.” The right balance – controlled heat and measured strikes – reflects the balance needed in regulating emotion. As participants cool their finished pieces in water, they are encouraged to reflect on what “quenching” looks like in their own lives. 

Generally, Petty is not permitted to actively integrate his faith into therapy, but there are exceptions. He recalls one occasion when a client, struggling with anxiety, shared that they were a Christian. Petty asked: “How would you like that incorporated into the work we’re doing together?” Using the presence of Jesus, Petty guided the client to anchor positive emotions during moments of distress. “I invited him to relax, close his eyes and recall every aspect of what it feels like when he’s in God’s presence – what feelings arise in his chest, sensations in his body, warmth and peace.”

Petty has good reason to reject the idea that vulnerability is weakness. “Jesus cried, right? That didn’t make him any less an enforcer of righteousness when flipping tables at the temple.” This integration of emotional expression and strength manifests in Petty’s therapy sessions, where he creates a safe space for clients to express their vulnerabilities. 

As for the God-given goal of changing the lives of a million people, it’s a call that Petty says came with a clarity that ‘cut through’, but he’s unsure on how it will unfold. When pushed, he posits: “I might meet with one client and they produce something that achieves the million? I don’t know how God’s gonna work through it.” He just knows he had to start somewhere, and he trusts that the calling he received will be fulfilled in time.

Redemption

Looking back, Petty sees his own struggles as part of a redemptive arc. “I feel like I joined the military with a desire for service, but as I grew, that service became less and less aligned with my values,” he says. “I feel like God’s led me through that difficulty and adversity – it’s almost been like the forging process. He’s made me into something useful for him and his glory.”

That process is what enables Petty to sit with those who are struggling and offer more than just clinical expertise – he can offer genuine empathy. Petty recalls a session where a client had a panic attack. “I said: ‘I know that must have been hard for you. It can feel like you’re dying.’ And he asked: “Have you had one before?” I told him: “Yeah, I have.” And he said: ‘You’re the first person I’ve explained this to who just got it. Most people just say: ‘Oh, you’re just worried, get over it.’”

For Petty, that moment encapsulates the beauty of redemption – how suffering, once destructive, can be transformed for good. “There’s a joy in taking what came from the enemy or circumstance, what was meant for harm, and seeing it now used for God’s glory.”

That moment by the washing machine wasn’t just a call – it was the culmination of everything God had been forging in him through fire, loss and redemption.