Piles of books on prayer and the spiritual life are a key component of the Johnson home. Of the ones we’ve actually read (relatively few considering their proliferation onto the back stairs from our overflowing bookcases), many mention the works of St. John of the Cross, a Doctor of the Church and widely recognized spiritual master. Many authors make penetrating points using St. John’s insights, but we’ve never picked up his actual work, until just recently.

May we offer one word that likely keeps people from exploring dear St. John, a Carmelite priest of 1500s Spain, on whose feast day Soren was born? Darkness. Dark night this, dark night that…dark, dark, dark. It’s not a recipe for attraction, which since his main point is to lead us away from what we normally think of as attractive, maybe there is a design there.

To be honest, we probably shouldn’t be writing anything about St. John, since we’ve only read a few chapters of his work so far. But a defining point has already struck us, and we wanted to highlight it, in case you struggle with darkness too. You see, life is hard. And intentionally plunging into more darkness doesn’t seem like the best idea if you need to keep soldiering on. But now that we’ve read a bit of St. John in his own words, we are immensely consoled.

This saint, who has served as a spiritual director for so many, is intent on leading his reader through a gradual path by which we switch off the lights we normally use to make our way: our senses, our desires, our understanding, and more. He would have us walk away from so much that keeps us moving along through life and find a dark path instead—a path that doesn’t rely on any natural light at all.

Sounds scary, right? It is, but only until you read his description of the darkness and, as a person of faith, happily recognize that it is your most natural element of all:

• “Faith, say the theologians, is a habit of the soul, certain and obscure … it makes us believe truths revealed by God Himself, which transcend all natural light, and exceed all human understanding … for the soul, this excessive light of faith … is thick darkness … even as the light of the sun overwhelms all other lights, so that when it shines and disables our visual faculty they appear not to be lights at all.” And “It is clear, then, that faith is dark night for the soul, and it is in this way that it gives light; and the more the soul is darkened, the greater is the light that comes to it.” (Ascent of Mount Carmel, Book II, Chapter III)

Phew! And here we were dreading all this darkness! The darkness that St. John points to is a path that we Christians already know quite well. We are used to at least attempting to turn away from worldly things to find a less well-trodden path. Shutting out the clamor of the world to hear the still, small voice—that’s our way, a beloved path of many consolations! If the light of faith is darkness, we are all in.

Excitement aside, we all know it’s not easy to turn away from worldly lights and comforts. But St. John does offer some inducements. Ah, how the saints do love to go on about the sweetness in suffering the loss of all the good things of the world. But apparently, besides this much discussed sweetness, there are many other ways that God rewards those who seek Him. And the promise of spiritual gifts makes the dark path ahead seem less foreboding.

As you consider where you are on this dark path of faith, join us with one or more of the following practical applications:

• Invite the Lord to show you areas of life where you overindulge in worldly desires (e.g. overwork, food, drink, media, entertainment, busyness, addictive patterns), and ask Him to give you greater freedom.

• In a time of prayer, ask the Lord to increase your faith, even if that means letting go of certain desires and stepping onto a path which seems unknown and “dark.”

• Share what you are learning from the Lord—about the dark night, letting go of well-worn paths, and the freedom in faith—with your spouse or a trusted friend, as a means of developing some ongoing accountability.

Yes, St. John of the Cross is the kind of spiritual guide we need, especially when our surrounding culture serves up non-stop worldly distractions. Spoiler alert—St. John eventually invites us to even let go of any possible dependence on spiritual insights or consolations. Instead of looking for spiritual highs, we instead receive each day—whether this means moments of “desolation” or “consolation,” or the seeming dryness in between—in deeper and deeper faith.

But let us take heart, this path—however dark—leads to greater union with Him, the source of all light!