Dark Night of the Soul

 

I come from a middle-class family with a strict sense of right and wrong, which is rooted in an unashamedly fundamentalist Christian faith.  I have been surrounded by love, was fed a diet of wholesome gospel truths, and made a conscious decision to become a Christian at a young age.  Walking the path of simple faith through my childhood I received my second baptism, that of the holy spirit, whilst a young teenager.  Taking ownership of my family's faith as an adolescent, I stayed a relatively good boy, speaking in tongues, reading the bible, and going to church.  At university I joined a Christian Union that I described simply as 'on fire', and my spiritual life went into overdrive.

 

Christian meetings of some sort became an almost daily occurrence, with prayer, small-groups, worship, bible-study, mentoring and local church - many of which involved me leading.  At no point did I go because I felt I ought to, rather a passion for God and for others drove me on.  I regularly felt communion with God whilst in prayer, a phenomenon that became more dynamic, until such time as I found myself meeting with local prophets, being impacted deeply by the holy spirit and nurturing prophetic prayer gifts.

 

My life was not limited to a Christian sub-culture, but was broad: my friends were from a spectrum of faiths, countries and classes; sports and musical activities kept my life full whilst I wasn't studying, and I loved to party.  Although I struggled with guilt over alcohol and other recurring sins, as I became more serious about God and holiness I found prayer and   partners who helped me break free from these negative parts of my life.

 

My simple faith was accompanied by many friends, an active lifestyle, almost unquenchable enthusiasm, an open mind, philosophical and theological study, and a psychology degree.

 

My faith in the bible evolved.  At university I questioned everything, even the concept of 'word of God', and why we trust the bible at all.  Simple questions, but no-one I spoke to could provide me an answer any more satisfactory to the word of God question than "it is because it is".  I felt like the carpet had been pulled from under my feet, and began to question why I had built my life so much on the bible, instead of on Jesus, the rock the new testament describes as the foundation of life.  I found a subtly different way of viewing the bible, but was still able to see it as a source of authority and inspiration.

 

I became passionate for social justice, and led meetings/attended conferences and protests.  I felt a burning inside of me that led me on to more.  More God, more healing, more community, more love… I got engaged.  Life was good.

 

However, eight months before the wedding, I broke off the relationship, and despite the intense emotions involved, found a renewed sense of freedom.  Part of this freedom involved intellectual change.  My foundations for knowledge were totally and utterly dismantled by the challenges of deconstructionism; I realised that the whole structure of truth that gave my life form was based on the tacit and, worse, dangerous and oppressive cultural assumptions of Western modernity.  Critical psychology's critiques of epistemology, patriarchy, cultural imperialism, homophobia and other forms of prejudice challenged my moralistic, black-and-white, "I-am-right" religiosity.    But my faith was alive; I was more deeply Christian than ever before.  Having lost some of my evangelical trappings, my relationship with Jesus was an intimate one, and I had fresh vision for the church, for my life, and for the world.  I remember praying and studying the bible for an hour every day before even starting my other activities, without a sense that it was duty.  I loved it.  I loved Jesus; I loved God; I loved the church and the world and life to the full. 

 

And then, quite literally overnight, it was gone.  All of it.  One day I woke up and my best friend had moved away, the centre of my life was removed, and there was void.   I had no say in this, but I felt no presence where yesterday there was, I believed in nothing whereas yesterday there was colourful and dynamic faith.  The God who I communed with daily was quite simply no-longer there any more.

 

My entrance into the 'Dark Night of the Soul' was so dramatic I find my words fail to capture the experience at all.  Maybe you can imagine the siege of a city, and sitting happily outside without knowing you are in the bowl of a catapult.  Realisation only comes when the catch has been released and you're being hurled at dizzying speed through the air, over the city walls, and into a strange world of chaos and uncertainty, a land in which the language you learned as a child suddenly has no meaning.  In the words of one contemplative, "the entrance into the Dark Night of the Spirit is heralded by a definitive stroke of the supernatural, which means that, in a single moment, we are cut off from all that went before, and placed in a new dimension, with no possibility of going back."

 

I was filled with a sense of having no choice other than to go with the process and see what was to happen, a bit like a gut-wrenching, heart-stopping theme park ride - once you're on, no-matter how much you scream, you cannot get off until it's all over.

 

Within weeks my life had spiralled out of control and into a scary, exhilarating ride through parts of life I was not really supposed to see or experience.   But see and experience I did, and as I swung between depression and mania I found that I was alienated not only from God, but from all of my friends and family.  I just couldn't speak to any of these people any more.

 

A lost and empty soul, I stumbled through life in what seems in recollection to be a drunken haze.  Oscillating between partying every night, to periods sitting, staring blankly in my room.  Not knowing anyone, and not being known.  Flights of philosophical fancy and completely failed attempts to recreate a Christianity.  Madness. 

 

Perhaps what stopped me tipping right over the edge was finding a friend, where all other friends had vanished along with God.    Sharing important ideas about postmodernity, clubbing, feminism and psychology, there was someone who could listen to my honesty without fearing that I would now go to hell, and who understood what was important to me.   One friend multiplied into two, and slowly I began to crawl out of my introspective hole.

 

I would like to say that it was like being in a coracle in an ocean storm, small, insignificant, and out of control, but trusting that the enormous waves would take me back to shore.  But it wasn't like that.  I distrusted everything and everyone.  There was no certainty, no deep belief that kept me going through it all.  The strength of my faith before was responsible for the depths of my lostness during this time.

 

Tracing my life from the darkness to wherever it is that I stand now is difficult.  Things that helped me keep going were a family who, despite their strong beliefs, cared: even though they didn't know what was going on or how to treat me, they didn't try to force me back into my old Christian clothes.  Dark Nights of the Soul.  Buddhist meditation.  She Who Is.  Not even trying to read the bible or go to church.  Tich Naht Hanh.  Emerging Church Blogs.  Books by Alan Jamieson.   People who I knew were praying for me but didn't insist on doing it in front of my face.  A professional counsellor, who helped me to see the experience as a bereavement.  A spiritual  director

 

who didn't actually try to direct me that much.  Buying a round the world ticket that has taken me away from people with expectations of who or how I should be.

 

Now I like to sit in silence and calm my mind and soul, to take life gently and try not to invest myself too much in any new ideology that might easily be later lost.  I realise that my roots are in Christianity, and am looking for creative and positive ways to realise my spirituality within this tradition, but am open to the light provided by others.  I am working in a hospital in Wellington and meeting up with Spirited Exchanges people, and am looking to move to another country to teach English.  I love the present.  I'm not living for next year or even tomorrow, but take sheer delight in simple things like walking, or eating.  Through the pain I have become a deeper and less naïve person, and though not written in stone any more, my ways of looking at the world are less destructive and give other people more room to be.

 

I haven't gone back, I haven't got a new system to replace the old, but would I really want to?  I am exploring, thankfully again communicating with some of the important people who I lost.   And, at last, I'm feeling OK.                                       

Anon.

 

Here's a wee list of some References/Books that have helped:  Alan Jamieson: A Churchless Faith; Called Again (Journeying in Faith).  Elizabeth Johnson: She Who Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse.  Brian McLaren: A New Kind of Christian.  Thomas Moore: Dark Nights of the Soul.  Gerd Theissen: Shadow of the Galilean.  Thich Nhat Hanh: Living Buddha, Living Christ.  Bernadette Roberts: The Path to No-self.