The Dark Night of the Soul

Hope is one of those concepts I struggle with. On the one hand, I think it’s an incredibly beautiful, transforming thing. But it’s for that exact reason I simultaneously have so much trouble with it. As it says in Proverbs 13:12, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick” [NIV]. There haven’t been many things in life that wrench my heart so quickly and severely as a lost hope.

In a previous blog entry, I mentioned the fact that I’ve been grappling with a sleeping disorder since I was 13-years-old. Recently, for a span of about five weeks, my sleeping problems reached an all-time high. On an average night, I’d go to bed around 11PM, not fall asleep until 6 or 7AM, then wake up at 8AM to go to class. On better nights, I’d fall asleep around 4AM, and wake up no less than 5 times throughout the night. It was the worst season of not-sleeping I’ve ever had.

One Sunday I asked my church family to pray for me; graciously, they gathered around, laid hands on me, and prayed for healing. Later that same day, at another church, I went up for prayer. After a half-hour of prophetic intercession, I left – fully believing I was healed and my insomnia was in the past. I was so certain Jesus had healed me, in fact, I didn’t even bother to take my sleeping medication.

4AM rolled around, and I was still wide awake.

I entered a downward spiral with the velocity of a tornado. 

There have been plenty of times in my battle (which is exactly what it feels like) with insomnia – when I have felt helpless. In the first few years, after praying for so long without a response from God, I thought maybe my parents and I were supposed to take initiative and test possible solutions. One new mattress, six pillows, four medications, countless vitamins and natural remedies later, nothing helped. So I got used to relying on God for my rest and peace super quickly. I now fully acknowledge on a daily basis I am helpless, apart from Christ. There is literally nothing I can do to achieve sleep for myself.

But that night, when I was so sure Christ had healed me only to have that belief stolen from me at 4AM… That was the first time I had ever felt hopeless. I wish I knew an easier word for that feeling, but that’s the one that most clearly reflects the rawness of that moment. I felt like my hope had been not just deferred, but taken away completely. I echoed Jesus’ cry from the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” [Matthew 27:46b, ESV]

I curled up on the floor in my room and wept. The harder I cried, the more certain I grew that God wasn’t listening. For the first time in my whole life, I felt like He’d abandoned me.

I never knew the silence of God could be so loud.

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My friend Josiah recently mentioned a book to me by the name of Save the Cat! It’s a screenwriting manual by Blake Snyder that outlines the different beats necessary to formulate a great screenplay. Josiah specifically referenced a segment I wanted to look up. Sure enough, I found it listed in Blake Snyder’s Beat Sheet. Directly following All is Lost, there is a beat labeled Dark Night of the Soul.

Snyder (2005) writes,

"So now you’re in the middle of a death moment at the All is Lost point, but how does your character experiencing this moment feel about it? This question is answered in a section of the screenplay I call Dark Night of the Soul. It can last five seconds or five minutes. But it’s in there. And it’s vital. It’s the point, as the name suggests, that is the darkness right before the dawn. It is the point just before the hero reaches way, deep down and pulls out that last, best idea that will save himself and everyone around him. But at the moment, that idea is nowhere in sight. I don’t know why we have to see this moment, but we do. It’s the ‘Oh Lord, why hast thou forsaken me?’ beat. I think it works because, once again, it’s primal. We’ve all been there – hopeless, clueless, drunk, and stupid – sitting on the side of the road with a flat tire and four cents, late for the big appointment that will save our lives. Then, and only then, when we admit our humility and our humanity, and yield our control of events over to Fate, do we find the solution. We must be beaten and know it to get the lesson". (88-89).

When I first read that description, it freaked me out how on-point it was. I can see now Dark Nights of the Soul come in all shapes and sizes. For some, it might look a series of broken relationships. For others, it may look like being fired or let go from a job. A crippling illness. The loss of a child. The loss of a parent. Divorce. Debt. Depression. Death.

In those moments, it’s easy to turn to God and shout, “Why? What's the point?” And now I think that’s okay. In fact, I think maybe everyone should be really upset - angry, even - with God at least one time in their life. I say this for a couple reasons. First, because He’s big enough to take it, and I think He values the honest expression of our feelings. Secondly, and more importantly, because it's impossible to turn our face upon God, even in anger, and remain unchanged.

When midnight comes, some of the hardest questions in life become realized. Jesus, will I trust You, even when it feels like You’ve given up on me? Will I trust You, even when it feels like You’re not here? Will I trust You love me, even when I hurt so badly inside? Abba, do I really believe Your heart is good? Our answers to those questions will change everything.

The Dark Night of my Soul was literally that: a dark night. But there, in the middle of that night, I turned my face toward God and made a choice. When I honestly felt no hope at all, I drew alongside Abraham, and hoped anyway. I answered Yes.

And, you know what?
...The sun rose.


“Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became…” – Romans 4:18. [NIV]

Without wax,
Sarah.