Before I get to today’s post, I’d like to address something…

It has come to my attention that I may have offended, or at least displeased some folks with last week’s post. I was concerned about this happening, especially with the discussion of how my struggles affected my relationship with my former church. Please hear me. This was never my intention. I toiled for a long time, choosing words and phrases carefully as to not shine a light of negativity on the people, yet still be real about the situation. So, if you were unhappy with my remarks last week (and you are still reading this week), please accept my sincere apology. Furthermore, if you’d like to discuss your perspective on the situation, please feel free to contact me.

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So just to recap, last week I ended with how I yelled at God…yes, the God that I believe created the universe, by using the big kahuna of swear words. Yup, that’s the one: F—  —  —! I am still more than a little embarrassed to admit to this. (However, I was also once told by one of my junior high teachers that he was going to get a cork and Super Glue if I farted in his class one more time; so I think I’ll get over the embarrassment here too!)

While I say this trying to lighten the tone of this moment, it was a very real and very emotional scene. It felt like God had abandoned me when I needed him most. I was scared, and angry, and at the end of my own ability to do anything about it. But isn’t that also a necessary component of faith—to be at the end of one’s own self?

My Dark Night of the Soul, Part 2

What is one to do when he gets angry at God—especially if he has claimed to be Christian for years? Does being angry at God nullify his previous declaration of dependence? Was his use of such profane language against God forgivable? If God is so good, why would he allow one of his followers to suffer alone? And in light of all of this, could such an angry “follower” have ever been a “real Christian” in the first place? These (and many more) questions were constantly on my mind.

I never did “fear” God in the sense that I was going to be obliterated by a lightning bolt, but I had also just verbalized that I wanted nothing to do with him. I wasn’t really sure what to do about that; but I was also too deep in depression to even care, honestly. And for several days, I didn’t give it much, if any, more thought. But at some point in the midst of my indignation, I began to remember the times that my faith felt stronger—when it felt like God was actually near to me. But which moment was truth? Was God truly present before, or was it my imagination? Or was God truly still present now and I just couldn’t feel him through my pain.

So, I embarked on a quest…

Now my mission wasn’t as cool as Indiana Jones’ (or even Monty Python’s) quest for the Holy Grail. Nonetheless, my pursuit was so much more important. I needed to explore my faith to see if God was really there, or not. And since I was at the end of me, and my prayers seemed to go unanswered, I knew I needed someone to help.

In the last couple posts, you may remember me mentioning a couple of my college professors that stood out from the others. They were beloved by my entire cohort. Not only were they intelligent instructors, you could tell that they cared about the students they taught, and the ministries they were a part of. So in my time of need, when I needed spiritual guidance, I sought them out.

I had graduated a few months before and hadn’t seen these professors for a while. One of these gentlemen, Brandon, was pastoring a church in a neighboring town, so I contacted him and told him that I was going to attend a service sometime soon. He sounded so welcoming through his email that the message alone brought a bit of comfort. So a couple Sundays later, I showed up.

I immediately felt like I was welcome among the people of this church, and Brandon was incredibly gracious. He kept it simple. He said it was good to see me, introduced me to a couple people, and spoke briefly about what to expect with their order of worship (or, how their church service flowed). Again, I just felt like I was in the right place that morning. And in the words of Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca, “I think this [was] the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

After the service, Brandon thanked me for coming and told me to feel free to call anytime. And this wasn’t an obligatory statement. I knew that he meant it. I knew that he truly cared about me and wanted me to know he was there if I needed him. It turned out I needed him greatly. (Oh, by the way, the message that morning happened to be about navigating the storms of life. Coincidence? I think not.)

I continued to attend worship at Brandon’s church. But beyond that, I also began to meet regularly with my new friend. Sometimes it was for coffee; sometimes for lunch. Each time we met, Brandon was very gracious and listened well. He always asked me how I was doing. He asked about my family, my work, and my relationships with people. And sometimes, we just shared a bit of small talk. Never did he dose me with platitudes about my situation or, worse, lecture me about my lack of faith. He allowed me to be real with him. He allowed me to speak freely about my struggles without having to worry about filtering my words to make them “acceptable” for a pastor.

This man loves people. He loved/loves me. When I needed spiritual guidance the most, he was there for me. He did exactly what he felt called to do—he discipled me. (Which is church-speak for helping someone grow closer to God and deeper in their faith.) He reminded me how important it is to be connected to people, to “share life together.” He helped change my perspective from being self-consumed to others-consumed.

I could talk about Brandon a ton more, but I gotta move on. I appreciate this man more than he may ever know. I still attend worship services at the church he pastored and am part of the missional community he established there. He is now planting a new church in the Lansing, MI area called Home Grown Church. I encourage you to check out what he is doing.

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On to professor two. Steve was a favorite of everyone in my college cohort. This man is intelligent and down to earth. He has a way of taking Scripture, and theological concepts, and making them accessible to anyone—even a knucklehead like me! And in the midst of my “faith crisis,” I decided to seek this man out as well.

Like Brandon, Steve was also very gracious with me. We met several times over lunch or coffee. (Or tea, as it were. Steve has English roots, he drinks tea—but he’s not snobby at all.) And when we met, I felt comfortable to lay it all out there. I could be honest about my floundering faith. I could be real, no holds barred. Always, always I was met with grace. One day over lunch, Steve reminded me of a theological concept he taught in one of my colleges courses.

The “Dark Night of the Soul” was talked about in the writings of sixteenth century priest, St. John of the Cross, and Carmelite nun, St. Teresa of Avila. These individuals lived a life of melancholy and contemplation. They also spent a lot of time in prayer and writing poetry. They both wrote and commentated on where God was in the darkest moments of a Christian’s life. They explored the very questions I was exploring. And to keep it simple, they concluded that, to some degree, every Christian experiences their own “Dark Night,” to varying degrees.

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I feel it is important to digress for a moment here. (I mean, that’s what I do when I write; I digress.) I want to be clear that clinical depression is not necessarily a spiritual matter. Let me say it another way: depression does not equal a lack of faith. There are multiple factors that can contribute to depression, and faith/spirituality is but one component. Please, please hear me when I say that depression cannot simply be “prayed away.” One’s Dark Night of the Soul can lead to a state of depression, but they are not one in the same. When people ask me about my journey through depression, I encourage them to see their physician, and to explore their faith and spirit.

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The idea that John and Teresa expressed (simply stated, of course) is that God walks us through these “Dark Nights” to deepen our relationship with him. It is when we are beyond our own strength—our own control—that such a connection can truly happen. Now, St. John of the Cross also eluded to the fact that depression is only one way that such “Dark Nights” can manifest. Sometimes this journey doesn’t involve depression or melancholy at all. But in his and St. Teresa’s estimation, each Christian that wishes to be in closer relationship with God must go through their own “Dark Night.” And when God seems to have checked out, he is actually intimately close.

Steve gently reminded me of this teaching and recommended that I explore this further. So I did. This took the form of deeper, more contemplative prayer. I also read a great book on the topic. And I continued to meet with my friend Steve for further counsel—and tea. Steve continued to love me where I was at. He too discipled me without an agenda; other than an agenda to help me heal. I appreciate this man greatly as well.

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To bring this to a close, let me reiterate that depression (certainly in my case) is not simply a spiritual matter. But at the same time, a person who is struggling in this way is wise not to neglect the spiritual component of their fullness. No matter where one is at in their journey, no matter the circumstances or how dark it seems, I believe that God can make something good out of it.

I also believe that finding friends and mentors—a person or community you can be absolutely vulnerable with—is the most important part of finding a way out of such darkness. This is absolute truth in my journey. In fact, it is the purpose of my writing. I hope that my readers connect with my story and are encouraged to share theirs as well. We may never know the impact that our stories may make, but I assure you, they all matter.

Okay, there is no cliffhanger this week, but there is more to come. Stay tuned next week, my friends!

Feel free to comment below or contact me privately if you wish. Also, if this blog is something that encourages you, please share Jim Ladiski Writes so others can be encouraged too!

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!