When I was a young, hip youth pastor, I had all the answers. Today, as an older, hip-replaced man, I have very few. Yet my faith in Christ has grown. Mystery feels more comfortable these days, and my own explanations less certain. The truths I hold matter more deeply as they become wisdom for how I live. Authentic conversations where no one feels compelled to have all the answers have become treasured gifts. And suffering and lament, once difficult to make sense of, now seem essential to spiritual maturity.
In my younger days, faith seemed to come with a checklist. And I got comfortable trying to follow it and even teach it. Perhaps some of these sound familiar:
- Have a quiet time (i.e., read the Bible) every day
- Be active in your local church
- Guard your heart
- Find an accountability partner
- Do not be unequally yoked
- True love waits for marriage
- Witness to your friends
- Be in the world but not of it
- Always be ready with an answer
- Pray until something happens (remember the P.U.S.H. bracelets?)
Many of these practices helped shape my faith. But somewhere along the way, I began treating them as formulas that guaranteed a wonderful, fulfilling, victorious Christian life. The problem was not the practices themselves. It was the promises I had unconsciously attached to them.
And, honestly, the formulas seemed to work, at least for a while.
But what do we do when they stop working? When suffering and loss become the norm and God seems hidden no matter how much we pray or read the Bible? This is painful to experience, especially when it lasts for months or even years.
Without going into all the details, let me just say that I can relate. God-inspired dreams (or so I thought) floundered. Family members passed, and not so peacefully Betrayal, hurt, and brokenness saturated my world in one way or another. Beneath those losses was something that frightened me even more. The God of my youth (and of my youth ministry) did not show up in the way I expected. And with that came questions and lament.
Thankfully, one of my closest friends is a spiritual director, deeply knowledgeable of church history and the interior life. Through countless conversations, he introduced me to the sixteenth-century Christian mystic John of the Cross, who provided language that helped me understand the season I was experiencing—the dark night of the soul. It’s a period where the believer feels abandoned by God. And the spiritual practices that once brought comfort bring little consolation. Yet, it is not God hiding. Just the opposite. In John’s understanding, the darkness experienced is the blinding light of divine love inviting the soul to abandon worldly attachments and to enjoy a deeper, transformative union.
To engage the dark night of the soul is to recognize it is not God’s abandonment but rather his invitation. And to endure it is to cease striving, to give up the formulas (or at least the spiritual highs they promise), and to embrace patience, silence, and contemplation. Through this purification process, we are drawn toward loving God for his sake alone.
Once the season I was in was reframed for me, the healing of my interior world began. I’m not there yet (not even close), but it feels different now. There are fewer answers, but more presence. More mystery, yes, and also more peace. Most of all, there is love. And that is who God is.
So, if God feels far off and your familiar faith practices bring little comfort, I cannot tell you exactly what your season means. But I can tell you that the absence of consolation does not mean the absence of God. It might even be the dark night of the soul, the purifying light of God’s love. If that is the case, do not avoid it. Go through it. Bring your questions and lament. Let trusted people walk with you. Painful as it may be, God may be leading you into new depths of his love that you do not yet see.
If this is you, please receive this prayer from the apostle Paul:
When I think of all this, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.
~ Ephesians 3:14–19 NLT
Kwan and the Armor of Light
Kwan longs to make a difference and is desperate to protect his family’s legacy. As the son of the Chief Technology Integration Minister, the stakes are high to prove his worth. After achieving prominence for discovering a revolutionary compound for building roads and bridges, Kwan realizes that his compound might be toxic. Should he speak up to protect the environment of his homeland, or follow professional success and recognition? In the back of his mind, he remembers the advice his father once gave him: Sometimes secrets are necessary.
