In last week’s post, I mentioned that I had a couple mentors that stepped in when I needed them most. And replying to a comment on last week’s post, I mentioned that, at the same time these men stepped in, I was royally pissed at God. Well, I’d like to begin unpacking that a bit this week. But before I do, I’d like to add a little disclaimer, of sorts.

I am going to attempt to be as real as possible here. That being said, I do not wish to offend anyone either. Furthermore, I don’t intend to be irreverent or blasphemous. (Or in plain, slang English, I’m not intending to “dis” God.) But I was in a bad spot. I just ask you for a little grace. I firmly believe that God has broad shoulders—and He also has more than enough grace for all of us.

Lastly, in that same disclaimer vein, I want to address one more thing. I use the traditional pronoun “he” in reference to God, but not because I think he’s a dude. I am trying to be sensitive to traditional Judeo-Christian understandings and use of pronouns, but tradition has also agreed that humans were made in God’s image, both male and female. So, if you are worried about me trying to perpetuate some sort of patriarchy through my faith, chill out, my friends. It’s just easier using a stinkin’ pronoun! 😉

My Dark Night of the Soul, Part 1

I mentioned in a previous post that I graduated with a bachelor’s degree a couple years ago. What I did not mention was that it was a Bachelor of Arts in Christian Ministry Leadership at Spring Arbor University. I had been active in my church as a worship leader (leading songs) for years but I did not have a formal Biblical education. And, from time to time, people would ask me some pretty deep theological questions—I guess it’s because I had a visible role, up front in the church. Thus, I felt this educational program was a good fit for me. I wanted to get a degree to set me up for future endeavors, and I wanted to learn more about the faith tradition I had grown up with.

I had a great experience in college. (This time around, that is. I wasn’t ready to be a college student directly out of high school.) The other students in my cohort were diverse (for a small group) and absolutely great. And all but one professor were fantastic, though two stood out as exceptional. (More about these two later.) I learned a bit about Christian history, theology, Biblical interpretation, church leadership, and all that other college stuff. I got all the education I had hoped for, and more. But as graduation time approached my brother passed away. Coupling that with my mother passing away at the start of my degree program, my true education was really just beginning.

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Remember that day when I reached the end of me—the bottom, as it were? I’m going back to that moment for a bit. What I haven’t told you about that part of my story is that I was all but spiritually dead. Yup. If God were a planet, he would have been an undiscovered speck at the edge of the universe to me at that time. There has never been a period in my life when God has felt so distant—so distant I began to start questioning if he was even there to begin with. Yes, my faith was nearly gone.

As you may recall, I had been struggling for about a year and a half prior to my emotional meltdown and my taking a nearly two month leave of absence from work. And over the course of that time, things were not great at church or in my personal faith walk. I know, it may seem counterintuitive to think that a Christian college graduate and active member of his church could struggle with his faith so much. But as I have stated previously, I came to realize I was placing more faith in myself and others than in God.

Leading up to this period, I had taken on a board chairperson role at my church along with my worship leading role. This was also at a time when my church was really not doing well with overall leadership. Now, let me make it clear that this is not a knock against the good people of this church, individually. But I will say that the culture of the church at the time was an adversarial one between the congregation and pastor. All-in-all, it was a horrible time for me—and I’m sure all of the others.

So as I really began to struggle with my depression and anxiety, I decided that I needed to step down from my church leadership positions. And let’s just say, it didn’t go over well.

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I need to stop and address this “fallout” with my church briefly. I will begin by saying that most of the people at this church are good, loving people. I will also say that they have experienced a lot of change over the years with pastors coming and going. All that being said, the pastor that was there at the time got it wrong with me. He responded in a way that made me feel guilty for shirking my responsibilities. It made it difficult for me to then go to him for help with the spiritual side of my darkness. (By the way, my old pastor and I have since talked. He apologized for coming across this way as it was not his intention. I don’t hold a grudge any longer.)

Aside from the pastor’s response, I think everyone else was taken aback; and most didn’t know how to respond. The members of the board that I addressed were supportive. They wished me well. But the church members at large—and later some of these board members—simply began responding with phrases like, “We miss you [singing] up there.” “We need you back.” And at the time, I hated them for it.

Wait! Wait! Let me explain.

I truly think their intentions were good. They wanted to tell me how much my part of the music ministry team meant to them. I can see that now. But at the time, in the state I was in, all I heard was, “You need to fix whatever is going on and get back to your duties.” This, specifically, was never said; but it is what I felt. Not very often did I get a simple, “How are you?” or “Is there anything I can do to help you?” Again, I have come to understand that these folks were, for the most part, well intentioned. They were simply unprepared to see me, a person that was “up front,” be in such a dark place. What they didn’t know is that I had been going through the motions and running on my own strength for way too long; and that’s not worship.

Lastly in regards to the response of this church, please consider this if you find one of your fellow church members or leaders struggling (or if you see anyone struggling, for that matter). Simply show love and empathy, and try not to make them feel missed only because of the hole left in the ministries they stepped away from.

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In the middle of my darkness, and in the wake of my departure from church leadership, I was ready to give up on the faith altogether. And like everything else that caused me to be in this moment, a lot of this had to do with me not taking care of myself. When I was in my college program, I was often focused on the grade more than on the profound hope I was learning about. When I was leading worship, I was simply singing songs; I wasn’t worshipping at all. And in my times of personal quietness, I didn’t use it to pray, or study, or nurture my faith in any way.

This ushered in a very bleak and desperate time for me. For years I had claimed to be a follower of Jesus, but where was he when I needed him? I was literally in despair and the God and had thought I’d known decided to check out.

Several times, over several days, I cried out to God; both literally and figuratively. I prayed like I had never prayed before. I told God everything I was feeling. That I was lost. That I was scared. That I felt alone, and depressed, and wanting to give up. I pleaded with him to give me answers. I begged him to take away my pain. I cried myself asleep petitioning God to change my circumstances. And each time, I would wake up, and everything…was…the…same!

I don’t recall exactly how long this went on, but it felt like an eternity. Then one day, I had had enough. In my “righteous” anger, I let God have it.

“I am sick of this and I’m sick of YOU!” I am screaming now. “Where the hell are you? I go through this every day and I ask you for help! But you ignore me! Nothing changes! I can’t take this anymore! F— You, God! F— YOU!” (And this, my friends, is why I wrote the disclaimer at the beginning.) I was an absolute mess. I was hysterically bawling. And, yes, you read that correctly, I had just yelled at the God of the universe using the F-word! But I was pissed! I felt like God had abandoned me at the very moment that I needed him most. It turns out, however, that God had not abandoned me at all…

There’s a bunch more to unpack with this part of my story, but it’ll have to wait until next week. I’ll talk about how my faith was restored, even deepened, and about the people who helped me get there. And while I don’t want to spoil anything, I do want to let you know something now: God forgave me for swearing at him and calling him out like I did. More next week…

Finally, as always, if you are finding something in my writings (or the writings of my guests) that brings you hope, or makes you think, please don’t keep it to yourself. Please share Jim Ladiski Writes so that our little community here can grow!

Be well…

P.S. If you have a story to tell and would like to join Jim Ladiski Writes as a guest blogger, please contact me!