My Dark Night of the Soul

With my apologies to those of you who aren't interested in this topic, now on to a little "heavier fare." For a little less than a year, I have been experiencing what the ancient mystics would have referred to as a "Dark Night of the Soul." A time where my mortal veil, this flesh through which I experience my life, feels distant from God. A time in which I no longer feel God. It is not to say that I don't love God, because I do. It is also not to say that I do not want to know Him, because I do. I love God, who He is, what He has done, the beauty of His creation and the unfathomable depths of His Mystery. It is, rather, the absence of any feeling in the practice of my faith.

I have no desire to read the Bible, as sometimes we all don't...but this time it is different. It is a tired disinterest. A blase, ehh, kind of "I'm not even going to walk across the room to the bookcase to pick that book up." When I do read, I feel (and maybe that is the problem word) like I don't get anything from it. Where is the newness that I crave? Where is the revelation? The wow-factor...the aha moment...the light bulb switching on...are all gone. I read it, and I know it is all true, and it is even good, and I can find comfort in it. The Word seems to come through muffled and fuzzy and my reactions to it are dull, even deadened. I feel like an arm that has fallen asleep, emotionally, all over. This malaise extends to books and studies and even secular books. Sure, every now and then I can get into a good novel, read it in a couple of days and be done, but that is it.

Church services seem "old hat." The sermons are all too familiar: didn't you preach this same thing last year, wrapped up in a different title? And maybe it IS true, the pastors are all drawing from the same well of "WikiSermons" and counting on the flock to either be: A. so forgetful (and stupid, thanks for that vote of confidence in our collective intellect) that they don't remember, B. so complacent that they don't really care or C. completely new thanks to high turnover rates that they just keep (lazily) recycling old sermons-but that used to be OK by me. Now, not so much (remember how Paul from "Mad About You" used to say that whenever he wasn't really interested in something...that's how I feel).

Even songs don't thrill me the way they used to. Somehow the combination of a true lyric with a decent melody has a way of tugging at my heart by way of my tear ducts. Only, these days, they can't seem to find a way to my heart. There is a Keith Green song that goes like this, "my eyes are dry, my faith is old, my heart is hard, my prayers are cold..." and here comes the kicker..."and I know how I ought to be, alive to You and dead to me." Perhaps that is just the conundrum that the dark night of the soul is meant to resolve-how, when we experience our lives through hour senses, through our flesh, through our SELVES, how can we be "dead to me." (You'll have to excuse the disagreement between we and me.)

As the song continues "But what can be done, with a cold heart like mine? Please, soften it up, with oil and wine. The oil is You, Your Spirit of Love. Please wash me anew with the Wine of Your blood." Hello God, Are you there? It's me, Jessica. I like to use the words of other people because it has already been said, and been said so well. And while I may have elegant thoughts in my head, when I search for the words to translate those thoughts to paper, they seem so clumsy and ill fit for what I am trying to convey. I have been praying that prayer, singing that song, for a year. I haven't ever seen God with my eyes, or heard Him speak to me out loud...He has, however, always spoken to me through His creation, through song, through dance, through movies, through books and TV and the still small voice that echoes in my heart, louder that all the noise of the world. According to San Juan de la Cruz, who wrote Dark Night of the Soul, I may be asking for the wrong reason. He says the novice stumbles on this journey through the night, where God is calling them from glory to glory, from breastmilk to solid food, from a mother/child relationship to a relationship between true lovers. The novice stumbles on this instance because of pride, because her eyes are on herself, because she is asking for her own peace of mind rather than asking for the sake of God. I'm not sure how I feel about this...but I bet there is at least some wisdom to be learned, I am sure I could benefit from getting the focus off of myself (oh how much easier said than done, no?).

Intermission: If you are expecting a resolution to this problem, I should warn you. There is none. I am just writing this in hope that this could be a literary catharsis and "break up the fallow ground" surrounding my heart and expose a soft heart that can somehow, someway, find it's way back to the Lord.


What is a Dark Night of the Soul? Well according to the EVER trustworthy Wikipedia, it is "is a metaphor used to describe a phase in a person's spiritual life, marked by a sense of loneliness and desolation" Wiki goes on to say: "Typically for a believer in the dark night of the soul, spiritual disciplines (such as prayer and consistent devotion to God) suddenly seem to lose all their experiential value; traditional prayer extremely difficult and unrewarding for an extended period of time during this dark night." Yep, that's me, that's why I am calling this a dark night. MY response to this loss of sensual reward for devotion to God has to become less devoted, in practice. Inside, in my mind, in the secret place, I am (although the heart IS deceitful above all things) still just as devoted to God as ever. Outside, as made evident by an absent prayer life and a shelved Bible along with all her accoutrements and studies, I have no devotion.

As Tyler Durden would say, "how's that workin out for ya?" Well, Tyler not so well. I indulge in fits of rage against my husband and children more often, I avoid responsiblity, I watch too much TV, I have lost the passion for charity I once had, and once thought might be a calling. When I finally turn to God, it is to rail against Him and ask Him "how and why" He could let all this happen, as if I am some mere bystander in my own life and that my choices and actions have had no affect on where my life has wandered. When I don't hear anything back, or when Bible Bingo doesn't provide a prophetic insight into my life, my rant continues, "WHERE ARE YOU!" Evidently mine is not a unique situation. In my research into this term I am using to label the past year of my life, I came across the treatise that Saint John of the Cross (referenced by his given Spanish name, above) wrote on the topic. He explains in poetic, 16th century language that "when the savour and relish in spiritual things is at an end, they naturally find themselves wihtout force and spirit, and this uneasiness makes them bring all their ill humor into their ordinary occupations, and wax angry at trifles, and even, at times, become insufferable." Big time, San Juan, Big Time.

When I think about it objectively, I might as well just roll with it and see what God has in store for me. I ought to just embrace it and press onward. But, I stubbornly refuse to do so. What would be the harm in continuing to read the Bible out of obedience and praising God for the mundane-because some of His miracles involve the mundane...like a new job at just the right time, a well negotiated 25% off dentistry I can't afford, a new motor in the washing machine (and with that - clean laundry) sunrise, sunset, breathe in, breathe out-I could choose to see the glory in all this. I suppose. I could even embrace this dark night as just the thing that San Juan claims it is. I could decide that this is God calling me from the infancy of my relationship with Him to something greater. Then my pride chimes in, I have been a christian for my whole life, what infancy??? Next, I can hear myself asking the childhood favorites: how and why? How are You going to use this to change me, as if by understanding how I could assert my control over the situation or participate more readily. Why? In an annoying whiny voice, WHY? I don't even know what I am asking. Why what? Who knows, Just WHY? Plus I'm not even SURE that is what this is, and if I am not sure I am not taking a step.

So for now, I pull further away from the traditional practices of the faith. I have found that nearly the only way I feel connected to God is through the TV show LOST. There is something so sweet about the character Jacob, touching, healing, seeking and loving the Lost character that just sings Jesus to me. He makes me wish that Jacob (really Jesus) would just come to me and tell me what to do, what is coming next in my life and how to get my "feelings" back. But as Jacob tells Hurley regarding his different treatment of Jack vs Hurley "Sometimes you can just hop in the back of someone's cab and tell them what they're supposed to do. Other times, you have to let them look out into the ocean for a while." While I am extraordinarily loath to identify with Jack, one of my LEAST favorite of the whole cast, I feel a bit like I've been left to look out into the ocean for a while. JUMP IN MY CAB!!!