My Soul Thirsts For God
That the life of the Spirit is one in which seasons of vitality and inspiration can be followed by seasons of dryness and seeming lifelessness is not only known from the writings of Saints and mystics, it may also be part of your own experience as a spiritual director. Although we are never abandoned, we are not in control of how God is present to our senses.
In C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, Mr Beaver told the Pevensy children when they saw Aslan quietly slip away: “He’ll be coming and going. One day you’ll see him and another you won’t. He doesn’t like being tied down. It’s quite all right. He’ll often drop in. Only you mustn’t press him. He’s wild, you know. Not like a tame lion."
After carefully listening to my experience of loss of feeling God’s presence, my spiritual director said to me: “God is not silent Pieter. You are missing him, but you are also missing him. Learn to notice him in new ways”. And she was right. As I am learning on the Encounter course, the spirituality we are seeking to nourish is incarnational. Reflecting on my ‘dry’ days in the examen, I realised I glimpsed Him in my daughter’s smile when she asked me to dance with her; in the mother swan leading her signets on the lake, vigilant and alert as she kept watch over them, this spoke to me of the way I am being watched over.
Times of dryness may come mysteriously and leave us perplexed, causing an anguished search for what may have caused this seeming withdrawal of God. But it may just be that we are on the cusp of entering a new richness, as we let go of our need to experience God in the ways with which we are most familiar.
When Christ withdrew to a solitary place whilst it was still dark, his disciples came looking for him and exclaimed, astonished: ‘Everyone is looking for you!’ (Mark 1:37). What I hear them say is, “You are not allowed to simply go off! You need to stay with us?!”. But his reply came that it was time to go to other villages, so he could preach there also. They saw their need as the centre, but he diverted their gaze away from themselves. The same invitation is there for us.
In all our experiences, He is both nearer than we are to ourselves and yet remains beyond our grasp. Whilst there is no such thing as the absence of God, our souls may at times feel exactly that, and pray with the Psalmist ‘Why do you hide your face from me?’ (Psalm 88:14, NIV). As we journey with fellow travellers who experience such seasons, we may misunderstand what is going on. Whether this is a dark night of the soul, a desolation caused by abandoning the invitation to prayer, a depression or simply exhaustion from overwork, we are encouraged to listen without judgement in order to learn more than we know. The witnessing of their experience may be the most important gift.
The seasons of nature tell us that fall and winter are necessary, that whilst above ground all looks dead, underground much life is underway. Spring will come and yet it cannot be rushed, it will only come with patient waiting.
Dryness has its own benefits however. Our thirst may deepen, focussing the mind and heart. Our roots grow deeper in search of water. In the dark our eyes become more sensitive to the light, more able to notice the less obvious brightnesses all around us. We can practice a drawing near to God that is not dependent on the gratification of our senses. And this is maybe the most important gift, that we learn a trust that is not dependent on feelings.
Questions for you and your directees
How do you feel about the wildness of God? How have your experienced it?
How do you respond in seasons of dryness? Or when God feels absent?
What new ways did you learn to notice God?
Where do you notice a growing thirst in your life?
How can you encourage those you accompany to trust God even when they don't feel His presence?