April 6
Into the Dark Night
Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. ––Romans 5:3-5
In the evening of life, you will be judged on love alone. ––St. John of the Cross
In the 500-plus years since the death of John of the Cross, he and his contemporary, Teresa d’Avila, have come to be known as part of the Christian Contemplative movement. Contemplatives are defined by a pursuit of a direct connection with God through silence, solitude, and an interior life of prayer and contemplation.
John and Teresa’s sixteenth-century Spain was a time of conquest and power, which meant gold and wealth flowing into the kingdom’s coffers. The Inquisition was at its height as the Church sought to consolidate power and purify its ranks of “infidels.” Against this backdrop came the Counter Reformation, with priests (such as John of the Cross) and nuns (such as Teresa d’Avila) preaching a Gospel not of outward power, but of humility, surrender, and quiet service and contemplation. Their beliefs were so radical that their Catholic order—the Carmelites—pushed back. Threatened by John’s spiritual zeal, false accusations were brought against him by some of his own Carmelite brothers. While John and Teresa taught about a return to the “primitive way”—a disciplined lifestyle of poverty, simplicity, prayer, and devotion—his order felt threatened by his reforms. Things became so tense that he was kidnapped and placed under arrest in a Carmelite monastery in Toledo.
During his nine months as a captive, John lived in a filthy 11’ x 6’ cell that was blistering hot in summer and bitterly cold in winter. He suffered malnutrition, dehydration, frostbite, and regular floggings at the hands of fellow Carmelites. It was during this difficult time that he wrote his most famous poem, “The Dark Night of the Soul.” Eventually John was able to escape through a high, narrow window in an adjoining cell. Once free, he never once spoke poorly of his captors. Instead, He pressed into God to find the purpose of his suffering. What he came away with was a highly refined sense of the Father’s love in the midst of his suffering.
And that is the key for us, man of God. Even though we know God isn’t the source of worldly sorrow, it’s both tempting and expedient to turn our anger toward Him. We see this play out all the time when people say, “I will never believe in a God who would allow me (or my loved one) to suffer like that.”
Don’t confuse the tragedies of this fallen world with the actions of our loving Father. Though, like St. John of the Cross we may suffer unfairly, even at the hands of people we love and trust, we must remember that we serve a loving God who mourns with us during difficult times. The dark night becomes a period of spiritual refinement—a season of trudging through in search of spiritual answers. In other words, a dark night of the soul for the Christian is both virtually unavoidable for spiritual growth, and oftentimes indispensable for increased intimacy with God.
Are we required to enjoy it? No. Only a fool welcomes tragedy and trauma, but a fool for God understands what the world cannot comprehend: In our most vulnerable and difficult trials the love of Christ not only sustains us, but transforms us.
Lord, I surrender my will to You today. When difficult times hit, let me turn to You and seek answers under the protection of Your love. Thank You that I have a Shepherd who watches over me.