Purpose in the Darkness

My eyes scream when I flip on the light switch, but I'm not taking the chance of one of the bathroom snake stories I've heard happening to me. 

So I turn the light on. The unpleasant eye strain is worth the peace of mind of being able to examine the bathroom for snakes. 

In a lot of instances, light is a positive thing. Light illuminates, it helps me to see. 

But the truth is, the darkness plays a pivotal role in our wellbeing as well. Light at night disrupts our bodies processes that lead to our bodies functioning optimally. It disrupts melatonin production, which makes our sleep not as restful, which disrupts the tasks our bodies do while we are asleep. 

Darkness, in the right context, is right and good. It's like gangrene. In my childbearing years my midwife explained to me that gangrene helps a babies umbilical cord to fall off quickly. If I get gangrene at any other time, in any other part of my body it has devastating effects. 

I've come to recognize the pivotal role that my Dark Night of the Soul has played in my spiritual and mental wellbeing. 

I believe the Dark Night provided me the means and fortitude to take the rest I needed. To differentiate from codependent relationships. To learn to trust myself. To take responsibility for myself. To exist without striving. To tread spiritual water. To be consistent for the sake of being consistent. 

There was no snake in the darkness, and no gangrene to consume me. It was darkness that provided me with rest and revitalization. That empowered restoration, concentration and clear thinking. 

To read the next installment in this series, click here.

Another Root

 I hit the ground running. I was so ready for change and growth that as soon as I had any direction, I took off. 

Inspired by my own growth and what it seemed God was doing in my life, I began to take on projects in addition to my busy roles of wife, mother to five children and full-time employee.

Each opportunity felt like a divine appointing for service, connection and growth. 

I held multiple roles in a recovery fellowship, and several roles within the church we were apart of. I was working full-time on these projects while still trying to show up for my family and at work. 

It started to feel like the walls were caving in on me. Times of rest didn't provide me with the rejuvenation I needed. Nothing seemed to help. When one task was complete, there was always another waiting to be finished. I never felt rested, or relaxed. No amount of napping or taking a sabbath weekend made a difference.

I tried to share how I was feeling but it seemed that people didn't believe me, or take how I was feeling seriously. I felt judged and ridiculed when I let anyone see how much I was struggling. 

In addition, a series of events had eroded the confidence and trust I had in mentors. It became clear that I wasn't working for what I thought I was.

While this was hurtful, it helped me to realize that nobody was looking out for me and it empowered me to look out for myself. 

I gradually quit everything. 

This kicked off 4 years of darkness for me. I almost lost my faith. 

It was all triggered by burn out. 

It took four years for day to break on my Dark Night, and I'm still in the process of re-engaging in life. I'm careful what I take on, and I'm much more prone to say no. 

I've learned that programs aren't a means of relationship. Working alongside other people doesn't automatically lead to communion. Those things take intention and commitment. So I've learned to divert my intention and commitment to the right things. And to fewer things. 

I take things one step, one day and one moment at a time. I show up. Repeatedly. In the right spaces. 

I'm practicing though. This isn't something I've gotten down pat. I'm practicing. 

 To read the next installment in this series, click here.

A Root of Deconstruction

What I really wanted was truth. I wanted to feel sure. I wanted to make sense of the world around me. I wanted to know that God values me as a woman. 

I was triggered by some biblical teachings and beliefs in regard to women. I was struggling with what it means that I am never allowed to speak in the public assembly, and that God seems to have designed His creation in a way that empowers men to abuse women. 

Not because I wanted to speak in the public assembly, but because of what it might mean about God, that He wants me to be "seen but not heard". I felt unseen, uncared for and dismissed like a child who has childish thoughts and is annoying to the adults in the room. How could a god that requires my silence value me as a person? If God doesn't value me, then is He good? If He doesn't love me and value me as much as my husband, what does that mean for me? Are women just ornaments for men to enjoy?

My whole belief system is built around the belief that God loves me, that His motivation for everything is His goodness and love. The contrast between biblical instructions for/about women and the goodness of God created cognitive dissonance for me. If God loves and values me less than my husband, then I couldn't reconcile His goodness. I could have deconstructed and not looked back.

My deconstruction was triggered by pain, which resulted in questions. 

The conclusions that I ultimately came to are these:

1. The rule of men over women is part of the curse. It might not feel good. Curses usually don't. Submitting to my husband is about more than just doing what he says. It is placing myself under the protection of my husband. Much like a country. When I submit to the government of the United States, I am entitled to the protection being a U.S. citizen offers me. 

2. The subjugation, dismissiveness and abuse of women is not from God. It's the actions of men working on behalf of Satan. God does not condone the mistreatment of women. In fact, He tells men that if they do not treat their wives properly, He will not hear their prayers. Scripture is full of the protection of women. Passages that do not reflect the protection of women are passages that are simply telling the story of how men acted, they are not examples of how to live. 

3. When I honestly looked at the questions, I recognized that I was projecting things onto God and the Bible that aren't necessarily true. My questioning God's goodness was the result of the actions and beliefs of people. Of other people's interpretation of scripture, not scripture itself. My relationship with God transcends other people, even though it operates amongst and in collaboration with them. 

4. Everything I do rests on my belief that God exists, that He is good and that I matter to Him. As a parent, I understand that sometimes I've had to require things of my children that they deemed as unfair. They could not see the big picture that I could see. In a small way, I see my submission to God in the same way. I am willing to submit to something that might seem like an injustice, because I admittedly can't see the big picture that God can see. 

The truth is, I still don't understand why God allowed Paul to command women to be silent in the church, or any of the other things that Paul says about women. My shift in attitude has allowed me to not understand but remain committed. I've read arguments for why this isn't meant for us today. Maybe it's not, but so far I'm not convinced enough to be willing to lay it aside. 

Each time I submit or remain quiet, I see myself laying those things at God's feet.  I don't see them as my subjugation. I see them as my sacrifice. I don't need to know what he's doing with them. I trust that He is good and has my best interests at heart. I trust that He sees the big picture and I feel grateful for the practice. 

I still struggle sometimes. Women being silent in the church and submissive in homes can cultivate an environment of unconscious misogyny. If I see this happen, I remind myself that people are not God and their attitudes and actions aren't His. 

As my relationship with my husband has grown and developed, I've learned to take refuge in it. My husband respects me, and listens to me. He is a godly man that reflects God's love to me. I trust Michael to take me into consideration, and I trust God to work on my behalf. I speak the truth in love, if I'm called to, but ultimately I stay in my lane and watch God work. 

To read the next installment in this series, click here.

Turning the Corner of Deconstruction

If you haven't read the other installments of my Deconstruction series, this post will make more sense if you do.

Dark Night of the Soul 

I Deconstructed, but Kept My Faith

The Dark Night felt like being lost in the wilderness. Deconstruction felt like realizing I might not find my way out. 

I didn't find a lot of resources for people experiencing a Dark Night of the Soul. I read a couple of books, but most didn't help. I did the things I listed in I Deconstructed, but Kept My Faith instinctively. 

There are a million apologetics resources, but my issue wasn't needing evidence that the Bible is true. I picked up After Doubt about 3 years into this journey. It confirmed the practices I had already committed to and gave me insight into what deconstruction is and the purpose it serves.

I couldn't have named it at the time, but what I really needed was to realize that God isn't other people. That I had been hurt by people who make up the church, not The Church and not God. I needed to separate the actions of people from the directive of God. 

A turning point (that I only recognize as a turning point retrospectively) came when I gave up. I stopped looking for resources. Stopped listening to people. Just stopped trying to figure it out. 

I leaned into the rhythms I knew I could trust. I went to church without feeling the need to volunteer, I went to bed earlier, took walks outside, read for pleasure, spent time with my family, went back to school, read my Bible, sang loudly, deleted my Facebook account, went to therapy. 

Instead of trying to find my way out of the wilderness, I stopped walking. I stopped wallowing in self pity and fear, started a fire, built a shelter, stayed alive and waited to hear the sound of my name being called through the trees. 

I eventually did hear it. It ended up being more of an unfolding than immediate relief. And it's taken a while to trust that it is the rescue and not another breakthrough mirage. 

If you've been hurt, please know that God isn't other people. You've been hurt by people. The actions of people do not equal the directive of God, even if they claim it does. It has to pass a stricter test than that. 

Reach out. I may not have answers, but I can help you tend your fire, build a shelter and listen for your name being called through the trees. 

To read the next installment in this series, click here.

15 Things I Learned During my Dark Night of the Soul

1. I had relied too much on other people’s biblical interpretation and spiritual experience. I didn't trust myself. I took scriptures that talk about seeking advice too far, and I trusted people to lead me. I was a sheep following someone other than the Shepherd.
2. I had quieted my own intuition in order to seek the approval and attention of people who I valued those things from. There were times when I should have spoken up, and I didn't.

3. There is value in standing alone. I have to be able to stand alone in order to be a productive member of a group and to show up for other people in a meaningful way. 

4. It’s okay to be misunderstood. People don't have to understand, and I don't have to explain. Some things are just for me.

5. Things can be two things at once. I can receive positive help, and harm at the same time. Things can be both good in some ways and bad in others.

6. There is value in waiting. In holding space. In continuing to walk even when I don’t know where I’m going. In trusting God. 

7. I don’t always have to find a solution, or meaning. I'm not responsible for figuring everything out. Taking a sabbath is a good reminder of this. The world will continue without me.

8. I can test the truth of what people say by the fruit they bear. If words don’t match actions, they aren’t true. 

9. Leaders who hide things and get angry when they are questioned is a red flag. 

10. True friends are always friends regardless of who is around, acknowledge issues in the relationship and own their part of things. 

11. People don’t belong on pedestals. 

12. Love bombing is when one person or a group bombards another person with attention and love in order to draw them in. It's a manipulation tactic.

13. Intimate relationships can’t exist when I won’t be honest. 

14. It can be easy to mistake my desires with God’s. 

15. I can be open minded, but eventually I have to make a decision about what I’m going to believe and do.

To read the next installment in this series, click here.

I Deconstructed, but Kept My Faith

To read the first installment in this series, click here.

I couldn't name what was happening to me. I didn't know the phrase 'Dark Night of the Soul' until about two years into this experience. 

It seemed like everything I had worked for and all the relationships I had built were slipping away. 

It wasn't all at once, but more of a gradual process of letting go.

I questioned. I doubted. I berated myself for not being okay. I had made so much progress in my recovery and spiritual growth, but I felt at a loss for how to stop what was happening to me. I assumed that I had somehow gotten off track and God had left me like he did Samson.

I kept showing up in my recovery, with my husband and children. I just felt alone while doing it.

I shared pieces of what I was going through with my husband, but he wasn't in the same place. I felt inclined to move in a particular direction, but he wasn't ready to go there. So I prayed that if my husband was right, that God would help me to be content and re-engage. But if I was right, that He would help Michael to see. 

I begged God to let me feel close to Him again. 

There was a series of events where I felt hurt and let down by leaders, and not having my usual deep communion with God I struggled to cope. 

There were a lot of really low times. I couldn't understand and I felt desperate. 

As the days and years passed, my mental state spiraled. I had experienced the joy of the Lord and the peace that passes understanding. I felt empty and lost without them. It got really hard to pray and read my Bible. 

There were dark moments when my heart threatened to surrender to the gloom. It reached a crescendo when I lost hope that things would ever be different, that I would ever enjoy the relationship with God that I had previously sought refuge in. I felt hopeless, defeated, utterly forsaken. It seemed pointless to pursue a faith that eluded me since I had no understanding of why. 

This was at the height of what I call the Deconstruction Pandemic. It coincided with the other pandemic. Famous Christians seemed to be dropping like flies. Deconstruction content took social media by storm. 

Looking back - even though I felt alone, I can see that God had prepared me for this. He had taught me to hold space in the place in between where He had called me from and where He was taking me. 

I am surviving the Valley of the Shadow of Death. I deconstructed, but didn't lose my faith. 

Here are the things I did that helped me to hold on through the four years of my Dark Night of the Soul:

1. I kept going to church. I didn't always want to, but I did it.

2. I kept reading my Bible. I didn't devour entire books or testaments in one sitting, but I committed to the discipline of reading.

3. I kept praying. I didn't pray long, drawn out prayers. Some of them were silent, some were pleading, some were angry, but I kept the communication lines open.

4. I stopped consuming deconstruction content. I unfollowed people who were talking about their deconstruction. I didn't watch YouTube videos where people explained their deconstruction story, or how they had been hurt by the church. Even though I was curious, I knew it wasn't helpful to me.

5. I stopped listening to religious content, and relied on God for spiritual nourishment. I stopped listening to podcasts, other people or books written by humans. I confined my consumption of spiritual content to the Bible.

6. I asked for encouragement from someone I trusted. Every once in a while I would ask my husband to tell me why he has faith, or to remind me of things that God had done for us. I also messaged a friend who was secure in her faith.

7. I read a book that was helpful. After Doubt: How to Question Your Faith without Losing It by A.J. Swoboda. This is more of an explanation and insight into the psychological aspect of deconstruction. It's not an apologetics book. If you read it, please do so using your discretion. It was helpful to me, but might not be for you.

8. I reduced the number of people who had influence over me. I stopped pursuing relationships where I struggled to hold my ground.

9. I spent time with my husband and children. This was a clue that I was not experiencing depression. My symptoms were confined to a specific set of parameters. We spent a lot of time singing, laughing and just enjoying being together.

10. I took one day at a time. There were days when I wanted to give up or take action on my own, but I reminded myself that this was a time of waiting, of trusting, of not having to know the end of the story and of wanting nothing less than the blessings God has in store for me.

11. I quit things that were keeping me busy and burned out. This started in the fall of 2018. Leading up to 2020 I quit almost everything. Then in April of 2020 I was furloughed from my job. I had 2 months of complete rest and quiet.

12. I examined myself and was radically honest about my beliefs, feelings and actions. I acknowledged pain, my own flaws, and resentment that could be affecting my perception of God/the church/faith.

Some of these things were excruciating in the moment. My flesh and my spirit were at war. It was difficult to make these decisions and do these things. It was helpful to think of myself within a context, and how my actions affected my context. In order to be willing to give in to the questioning, I had to be willing to influence other people to do the same. I couldn't do that in good conscience.

I did not do everything right. In fact, I would say I did most things wrong. However, I think it is more beneficial to share what did work.

Right now I'm taking it slowly. I feel like a flowerbed in Spring time. Slowly coming back to life.

To Read the next installment in this series, click here.

Dark Night of the Soul

It felt different from depression. 

I've struggled with depression, I know what it feels like. 

This "not depression" started in the summer of 2018. I felt burned out, and distant from God. 

All of the ways I typically connected with God left me feeling alone, and purposeless. I searched my soul for sin. I reached out to others. I tried to share what I was going through, but each contact point left me feeling unheard and misunderstood. 

My recovery journey had taught me the value of community and growing alongside other people - people who are further along, some who are in a similar place and others who aren't as far along on the journey as I am. 

But none of these people who had walked with me through previous parts of my journey were able to show up for me in this one. They didn't understand, and no amount of explaining could change that. I got tired of trying. 

I had previously experienced a rich and fruitful prayer life, and I felt held in God's bosom. 

During this period of "not depression" I continued my spiritual disciplines, even though it felt empty. I sifted through my life trying to discern whether I was caught in a sin. 

I processed each thought, practice, relationship, and decision looking for meaning and what I was supposed to learn. 

In all this processing and sifting I deconstructed my faith. I questioned everything I had ever believed and every person I believed in. My spirit was adorned by sackcloth and ashes. 

I'm not sure where I heard the phrase first, but it immediately clicked: Dark Night of the Soul. 

Bill Gaultiere (I don't know anything about his man) in the linked article calls this "desolation" and says: 

"Desolation refers to a certain kind of trial in which God feels absent.  We seek God through church services and spiritual practices but we don’t experience his blessings.  We pray and it seems that God doesn’t answer.  Our spiritual life becomes dry as dust.  We’re bored listening to sermons.  We’re not motivated to read the Bible or pray.

Desolation is different from depression. . . desolation is focused on our relationship with God and our spiritual life, though it is affecting our emotions, personality, and relationships.  And desolations cause is spiritual also.  It may be that God has intentionally withdrawn His felt presence in order to strengthen our character and teach us to rely on the reality of his person and presence and not only on our feeling sense of his blessings."

This lasted for me until just a few months ago. In some ways I'm still coming out of it. 

I learned a lot, and I am sure I will gain new insights as I continue. I'm going to share some of the things I learned in the coming days and weeks. 

For Part 2 in my Deconstruction/Dark Night of the Soul series click here.