In 2015, everything changed.
The news of my wife’s cancer had come unexpected. She had a tumor previously removed, but all indications were that the growth within her was benign. After hearing about its malignancy, we had thought our visit to the cancer center was a mere follow up appointment. After all, the tumor had been removed – that should have been the end of it. But on Maundy Thursday, 2015, the oncologist told us, “I’m recommending chemotherapy. You start next week. Here is the paperwork.” We were dumbfounded. To this day the pit of my stomach drops whenever I think of those words.
The fact that we sat, weeping in the exam room, as our church gathered for our annual Agape Feast testifies to how spiritually distant I felt in that moment. I felt encumbered by sadness and confusion. All the times I prayed with my wife while she hunched over in pain felt pointless; the prayers I prayed seemed forsaken. In hindsight, I see things differently. But in that moment, it felt as if my faith was very thin. This is not a comfortable experience for an ordained priest.
This feeling of spiritual discouragement would linger with me through my wife’s entire cancer treatment, and far beyond. Each day I wrestled with an odd dynamic of both daring to believe in ever-present goodness of God, and yet at the same time, feeling deeply a lack of spiritual life. I preached messages I had a hard time accepting myself. I offered prayers that felt flat. I smiled while internally I wept.
Spiritual discouragement can be hard to pin down because it is different for everyone. It may be a general feeling of lacking livelihood in your faith, a feeling about being stalled in your spiritual life, or a feeling of a complete lack of faith altogether. It may involve a struggle with prayer, or lack of desire to read the Bible. It may result from life turning ugly out of the blue.
Compounding this problem is the fact that we rarely talk about spiritual discouragement. We pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s like we want to keep the illusion alive that faith in Jesus removes us from anything truly upsetting. Faith means being stalwart, unaffected. But that is rarely the case. This wasn’t the case for Jesus. It wasn’t the case for the disciples. It rarely is the case for us.
So, if you are reading this from the point of spiritual discouragement, I want you to know that you are not alone. I want you to know that it’s ok to feel this way. It’s not a lack of faith, or a failure of your spirituality. It’s part of our Christian journey and myriads of faithful people understand exactly what you are going through. The good news is, our Lord walked this path before us, and he walks this path with us today.
Here are some of the things I have been thinking about:
My Latest Reflections
I want to thank you for responding to my post about feeling God’s love. You were so honest in how you described your feelings of discouragement, and the deep wrestling that are undergoing. My heart grieved for you when I read that you have not felt God’s love for over a decade.
When You Fear Deconstruction
Deconstruction unmoors us, it leaves us drifting aimlessly through our questions and struggles. Yet these questions or struggles are rarely answered or addressed; rather, they are displaced or abandoned.. . .But what do you do if you don’t want to deconstruct your faith?
Asking Questions: A spiritual practice for Discouragement and beyond. (A guest post by Kandi Zeller)
In our culture of certainty, questions can seem threatening and unnatural. By contrast, Jesus spent much of his ministry asking questions and challenging assumptions. The sheer volume of these questioning instances in the Gospels should encourage us: if we are to be formed in the image of Christ (Romans 8:29), might we sometimes be formed…