Relief From My Dark Night of the Soul
Hi friends! It’s been awhile. Nearly a year, actually. Wow. How are you? I’ve been not fine. (I thought I’d start this one like an old school letter to a penpal).
What is a “Dark Night of the Soul”?
St. John of the Cross was a 16th-century Spanish Carmelite mystic and poet who wrote a poem and subsequent essay on a period in his life that he termed his “dark night of the soul.” (thank you, Google for that background!) Theologians define it generally as “an intense, often long-lasting period of spiritual, emotional, and existential darkness where previous comforting ways of knowing God are stripped away.” That last part that I emphasized, is the part we’re going to discuss in this post. Having experienced my own version of this phenomenon, I would describe it as deep, dark, permeating sadness which affects mind, body, and spirit which no previously known spiritual comfort measures can positively change.
Following Mike’s stem-cell transplant that completed in May, I was immediately faced with the task of planning my mom’s memorial service, while also doing all the business of death (probate, estate sales, lawyer visits, all.the.paperwork.). I said it then and I’ll shout it from the rooftops until someone silences me . . . the business of death is a cruel punishment to the living. My mom had everything planned and meticulously well-organized, and it was still a depressing, expensive, stressful process. Estate management and all the necessary pieces that puzzle requires can bring out the worst of the human condition. I was primed for a tailspin.
Mike was declared NED (No Evidence of Disease) just two weeks after Mom’s memorial service. We moved into my mom’s house a week before her service. That’s a whole lot of change, stress, and emotional roller coaster-ing to happen in one month. I slept. A lot. I was exhausted, grieving, and reeling from all that had happened over the last two years.
I Bounced Back, Though
I’m sure you’re expecting me to say it was at that vulnerable time of my life that my Dark Night of the Soul began, but it surprisingly . . . didn’t. I seemed to be bouncing back, albeit a very S-L-O-W bounce; like when a bouncy ball has lost its momentum and is about to stop bouncing and roll under the couch, forgotten, until you randomly decide to move the furniture to vacuum underneath it for the first time in a year (or several, who are we kidding?).
I plugged along, doing the things. Traveling bi-monthly back to Duke for follow-up appointments, decorating my new-to-me home, buying all the houseplants (that’s a story for another time!), reading, sleeping, reading some more, just generally trying to figure out what in the world our new normal even was. (Spoiler: Normal is a myth.)
Then came the holidays. (Cue morose, impending doom music here, sprinkled with Pumpkin Spice.)
No More Bouncing
I didn’t enjoy the 2025 holidays much at all. I tried. We hosted Thanksgiving and had a fun feast-day filled with family and games. We decorated lightly for Christmas. I just didn’t feel Christmas-y. I usually want to decorate immediately after Halloween. Last Christmas, I couldn’t have cared less if we never decorated. I wasn’t anti-Christmas, but I certainly wasn’t my usual holiday self that loves Hallmark Christmas movies, slow simplicity, and generally just being in the moment. I would’ve much preferred the moment to just pass on along and leave me be, thankyouverymuch. I guess the best way to describe it is numb. Not actively in protest, not excited to participate, just present in body, but very much not in spirit. Not even a little bit. I survived the 2025 holidays rather than enjoyed them.
This feeling extended into the new year. January was brutally cold, and ended with a giant, unwelcome ice and snow storm that left our entire region frozen solid for three full weeks. This certainly wasn’t a boon to my existing crisis of faith, feeling of doom, and certain existential dread. It just fed the growing crisis. Keeping with my metaphor, if the bouncing stopped somewhere around October, the rubber bouncy ball was now well and truly underneath the sofa gathering dust, hair, and static, looking like a haggard bog witch.
I Was Trying, Really
During that time, I knew I was not myself. I wanted desperately to crawl up out of the pit, and I tried to constantly. I wouldn’t describe this feeling as clinical depression. I had been there before, found medication to help with it, and it was doing its job for that piece. No, this was something more spiritual; it was something that was happening at the soul-level. It’s quite hard to describe to those who’ve never been there personally, but I’m guessing far more people can relate than we like to admit.
For a Christian, this sort of doubt, fear, and overall disillusionment with your entire faith is frightening. You start to gaslight yourself into thinking maybe your faith was all built on a house of cards and you never really trusted God in the first place. After all, if your faith can be so easily shaken, was it really genuine to begin with? Maybe this “God thing” is a hoax, a grift put on by religious leaders, or worse yet, a lie you told yourself to be comforted. Maybe none of it is true. Or maybe you just haven’t believed enough. I sort of swung back and forth between those two opposite poles.
Meanwhile, I kept reading my Bible. I kept praying. I kept going to church. I did these things because I didn’t know what else to do, not necessarily because I believed they would help by this point. (P.S. Looking back, this is one small clue that my faith was actually real and intact.) I even kept encouraging others with the same spiritual practices. If you came to me during that time for prayer or biblical advice, I gave the advice, I listened to you, and I prayed for you. Internally, I wasn’t convinced any of it was effective, but I wanted to be a good friend and support you, so I interceded anyway. I even kept leading my little Bible study. We were studying Acts. It ended up being the key to unlocking this whole prison I was in.
Deliverance From an Unlikely Passage
Because I’m me, I don’t really get the message from your average Scriptures. I’m hardheaded. I’m a thinker. I was the kid who asked “how,” not “why.” Most people who come to Christ in their adult years do so from familiar passages like the Romans Road or John 3:16. Not me. The Lord got my attention in Genesis 1:2. So, it would stand to reason that this season was no different.
My study in Acts had gotten to Chapters 24-26. This is the part where Paul gets {falsely} accused by the Jerusalem council (the Sanhedrin) and taken into custody. No one knows what to do with him because they can’t pin a particular crime on him. Religious elite question him ad nauseum with no results.
He sits in prison two years while Felix and his wife Drusilla question Paul about the Jewish law. Felix is quite corrupt and is hoping to make Paul so miserable that Paul offers him a bribe. Paul has far too much integrity to fall for that bait and consistently shares the gospel with Felix and Drusilla (who is a Herodian princess, but that’s a fascinating rabbit trail discussion for another time). Then, when a new governor, Festus, takes Felix’s position, Felix just hands Paul off; still in chains, still being faithful to Christ.
Festus inherits Paul, who has been stuck in bureaucratic purgatory prison, and Festus is also at a loss as to what to do with Paul. He can find no crime with which to charge Paul and throughout Acts Chapter 25, generally seems bewildered by him. Festus offers to take Paul to Jerusalem for trial, but Paul appeals on the basis of his Roman citizenship and requests to be tried “by Caesar” (i.e., by Roman law, not Jewish). Paul is perfectly within his rights to make such a claim, and Festus being the generally bewildered chap he is, agrees, albeit reluctantly (I’m reading between the lines a little on the reluctance, but I think the text supports it).
In Chapter 25, the next government officials that arrive are King Agrippa and his sister Bernice (although historical record describes their relationship as an interesting one, to say the very least). Bewildered Festus relays the history of Paul’s imprisonment to Agrippa and Bernice and Agrippa requests (that word is doing a lot of heavy lifting when we’re talking about a kingly request) to hear Paul. Arrangements are made for the next day. In Chapter 26, Agrippa and Bernice listen to Paul give one of the greatest gospel testimonies throughout Scripture; to which, Festus accuses Paul of being insane, and Agrippa essentially mocks him, saying Paul hasn’t had enough time to persuade him to be a Christian.
What Am I Getting At?
If you’re still with me, congratulations. I apologize for the lengthy post. I had to give you the synopsis of Acts 24-26 to help you understand the why behind my pivotal moment.
While I have been studying Acts for the last year, all of this (gestures wildly to the space surrounding her) has been going on. The personal hardships I described above were heavy enough for one human to experience, but add to that the seemingly endless reports of one Christian after another causing or covering up some form of abuse (I won’t leave links here, you know how to find them and it makes me sick to read about them), people I know personally being attacked by other Christians for, **checks notes** acting Christlike in a public forum (you know, trying to advocate for those in the margins of society, standing up for basic human decency and rights, just generally not being a jerk), unprecedented acts of violence and brutality being either committed or defended in the name of Christ; I could go on, but I’m getting depressed again.
As a reader, you will read that list above and automatically make assumptions about me. Probably more negative ones than positive. I pray you’ll give me just a couple more moments to share with you how God used the chapters in Acts to help me remember to hope in God.
Pay attention to the people in Paul’s orbit that Luke highlights in Acts 24-26. Go ahead and read it before you continue reading my thoughts.
Sanhedrin (you might need to back up to Chapter 23 to get more about them) — they’re the religious rulers of the Jewish people in Paul’s day. They decided whether a person was devout or a heretic.
Antonious Felix — a former slave turned governor, married to Drusilla
Drusilla — a Herodian princess who knows Jewish law because she’s been deeply entrenched in it her whole life
Porcius Festus — bewildered governor who inherits a prisoner he doesn’t want, but can’t get rid of cleanly
Herod Agrippa II — (yes, that Herodian line) great-grandson of the man who tried to kill Jesus as a baby, grandson of the man who killed John the Baptist and mocked Jesus, son of the man who killed James, imprisoned Peter, then died a gruesome death after accepting worship like a god.
Bernice — sister of Drusilla and Herod Agrippa II, arrives “with great pomp” alongside her brother (and likely, erhm, more than that) and hears the gospel from Paul
All of these people profess to be in favor with God, whether by birthright or devotion/duty. Every one of them thinks they know more than Paul does about his own faith. Most of them are actively trying to find some reason to punish him, despite the fact that he’s committed no crime, because he’s making them uncomfortable. They know enough to be held accountable by God for their rejection of the true Messiah. But they have lots of power and influence. And that’s a hard thing to release from your grasp.
Specifically, in Chapters 24-26, Luke is highlighting the almost turning of the Jewish elite. Felix and Drusilla essentially say “just wait a little longer, tell me more” to maintain their positions. Festus just wants to wash his hands of Paul and calls him insane. And King Agrippa tells Paul he hasn’t heard enough to be persuaded. Think about what all of these folks would be giving up if they turned to the Messiah. We only have to look at Paul’s conversion to know the cost. Paul stands before them as formerly one of them — a religious elite (Pharisee of Pharisees) who had a radical transformation after encountering the living Messiah.
And, the only truly free person in all the rooms is the one standing in chains.
The Light That Shone in My Dark Night
When I realized that Paul’s time in Acts 24-26 was not so different from my own cultural landscape, I finally, fully remembered that God sees. God saw Paul. Christ Himself actually visited him in prison in Acts 23:11 to remind him that Christ was with him and nothing he faced was surprising to God. Not only does God see the faithful, God sees the corrupt, those who lust for power, the blasphemers, the liars, and anyone else against God’s glory on earth. Acts 24-26 is Luke’s indictment against hearing the gospel and meeting it with indifference. Acts 24-26 reminds us today that God isn’t surprised by corruption among religious elite and those who take the Lord’s name in vain, all the while acting in opposition to God.
You might think that my focus was in the wrong place when I was in despair of all the evil taking place in God’s name. I disagree. I think it’s holy work to be incensed by the things that anger God. I think it’s important to stand for goodness and purity in a world where corruption and blasphemy are so common. Those convictions can be heavy loads to carry emotionally and, ultimately, physically. But God calls us to shine light into dark places. How will we shine a light into the dark if we refuse to observe the darkness?
All along, I was reading Scripture, praying, asking—begging— the Father to show me that he is, indeed the Good Shepherd that I believed him to be. But I noticed the darkness. It started to overwhelm me. And then, the light broke through in the oddest place . . . prison. Paul’s prison. I wonder if Paul thought the same thing earlier in Acts 16 when he and Silas sang hymns and the Lord broke open the prison doors? How odd, but beautifully characteristic, of my Lord to show the brightest light to the saints in the strangest dark places. I’d like to promise you I will remember this and I won’t get this deeply in despair again, but I’m too human to be that consistent. And when I inevitably start despairing of my faith again, I know from this experience and so many others in the past, that God will continue to be just as faithful as God has always been. Because God is God.
