Walking by Faith

My conversion story is complex. The last time I told it, I stood in front of two hundred of my peers at a class retreat, professing my renewed faith in public for the first time. I told them that I was raised Catholic, but that I had been merely going through the motions. I didn’t get anything out of my faith because I wasn’t putting anything into it. But then, something changed and I saw firsthand the joy a Christ-filled life can instill in people. I saw models of faith who radiated pure joy, and I wanted that joy. Slowly and surely, through one thousand little conversions, I made my way closer to Christ, and before I knew it, I was completely and utterly in love, on fire with passion for Him.

I thought that was where the story ended. At least that’s how I left it on retreat. But the funny thing was, just weeks before that retreat, I was starting to question God. I had been living off of a “Jesus high” after discovering His love—truly digging deep into it—for the first time. And then suddenly: nothing. I remember practicing my witness and noting how I didn’t even really believe some of the stuff I was telling my classmates. I was beginning to doubt God's love for me.

You were with me the past few months. Why leave now? What have I done? Why are you doing this to me? Can’t I just live in the high forever?

I had had a hole in my heart and had gone years without noticing it. But then I delved deep into my faith, saw that hole, and filled it to the brim. Or at least I thought I had. Now I was feeling empty, depressed, alone. How could He abandon me like this? Didn’t He see I was trying? Didn’t He see His abandonment was making my life worse, that I was turning to other impulses and temptations to give me the satisfaction that only He could provide? Why couldn’t He just let me feel Him?

But I delivered my witness as planned. And, by the time I got up there, I believed it. I was reminded of the truth that God loved me and could set me free from my chains. It was one of the best experiences of my life. I looked up to see my classmates praying for me before I began, and then I felt the Holy Spirit guiding my words, my mind clear and my thoughts full of passion.

It was wonderful. I felt the classic retreat high, quite an inspiring experience. I spoke to a priest about how I had been feeling before retreat, and he told me, “Faith isn’t always something you feel.” But I brushed aside his comment, saying, “Well, yeah sure, but everything is good now because I feel so on fire.”

I thought it was all good. All back to normal. Problem solved.

But the thing is…you can’t ride a Jesus high forever. It wears off. And you can't live your life under the impression that faith means feeling that high all the time.

Why? That’s something I struggled with. Why did God have to do this? Why did He have to throw me back into the real world? I failed to see that, as part of our human nature, we live in a fallen world. It’s not going to change until Christ comes down Himself and fixes it once and for all. As a result of our fallen world, we sin. We mess up. We hurt others. Others hurt us. Temptations bombard us at every turn. Each day is not that life-changing day where you discover Christ’s love for the first time. Each day is not a retreat. If it were, it’d be called Heaven, not earth.

Anyways, my expectations of heaven on earth were quickly shot down. Reality set in and it stung. Stress got to me. Other people got to me. The twisted side of my very own mind got to me. The lies sounded true again. You’re alone. God’s not here. He’s causing the darkness.

I couldn't wrap my mind around it. Why was I feeling spiritually dry and even dark? Why could I find no consolation? It was causing me pain to think that God saw me like this and did nothing to help. I blamed Him. He brought the darkness upon me. I even remembering writing in a prayer journal that God was “an absentee Father” for seeing me in such utter darkness and doing nothing to save me. Wasn’t I His child, His beloved? What ever happened to “I have called you by name and you are mine?”

Suffice it to say I was bitter. I couldn't believe that a few months earlier, I had given a witness on the freedom Christ brought me. And all of my classmates, boy, were they fooled…Some Catholic I am, I thought.

I blamed God and then I turned away. I gave into temptations that strengthened the voice in my head that told me I was alone and unloved. I was pulled further and further from God by my own doing, blaming Him each step down that dark road away from His light.

A mentor recommended I read The Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross, which described this spiritual darkness and how we sometimes experience it because “God wills to lead us higher.” I read it, marking on every single page. St. John described my darkness perfectly, but I was tired of hearing that the darkness was for a better cause. I didn’t want to hear it justified. I wanted to hear the easy answer; something along the lines of, “Pray the rosary every night and, voila, darkness is gone.”

But I didn’t find that. What I found was, “Keep listening for His voice” and “it will make you stronger.” I stopped reading.

Then I reached the point no one wants to reach. I reached the point where I had nowhere else to turn but to God, nowhere to go but up. I realized finally that maybe it wasn’t God causing the emptiness all along. Maybe it was me. I realized that my alternatives to happiness only made me sink lower and lower. Truly by the grace of God, I stopped heading down this counter-productive and even destructive path. I turned around and faced Jesus and slowly and painfully forced myself to at least try that way. I was done blaming Him; now I was going to try whole-heartedly giving Him all of me, asking Him—begging Him— to save me.

I came to see that maybe, just maybe, God had sent me a brief storm. Instead of persevering through it to His light and emerging stronger, I had accepted the Devil’s inadequate umbrella and planted myself beneath the rain permanently…I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s the way this newfound understanding played out in my head.

The minute I opened myself up to seeing Him again, I was willing to get out of the rain and find His light again. I found the motivation to continue The Dark Night. I read on and found my answer. It hit me clearly, and I couldn’t believe I had been blind to it for so long:

God doesn’t cause these moments of darkness. They are already within us. He just reveals the darkness and the weakness within our hearts so we can GET RID OF IT. 

If He wants us to mature in our faith, we need to get rid of our belief that feeling God is the equivalent of having faith. We need to learn to rely on Him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health…We must realize that faith is more than just a feeling and love is so much more than a retreat high. To know God, we need to know ourselves, inside and out, imperfections and all. We need to know that, as Christians, we have a Cross to bear, and we should be eager to partake in Christ's suffering, enduring any struggle that will lead us into closer union with Him.

We need look no further than Blessed Mother Teresa to see this perseverance and faith in action. She, for decades, felt nothing, no passion, no flame at all. And yet, she still prayed, lived a Christ-like life, went to Mass, and fought the good fight of faith. What an inspiration. She kept her faith alive and strong despite no sensual satisfaction in doing so because she knew, deep in her heart, that God loved her. Even when she didn’t feel it, she could never doubt His love.

I am a log burning with Christ’s flame. If I want to truly become one with His flame, I’ve got to give myself over to Him. I must withstand the flames and let my imperfections and sins be turned to ash. The more I resist, the harder it becomes. Once I am stripped of my restraining walls and my log has been thoroughly burned, then and only THEN am I truly united to Christ. I am so consumed by Christ’s flame that I become one with it.

Now I’ve realized that when I stood up at retreat and delivered my witness, my journey was far from over. And it still is. I’ve got so much more maturing left to do. There are so many part of my log still in need of purification. Still, I will struggle with my doubts, with my times of depression and insecurity. But I know that God’s words ring truer than any other lie I—or anybody else—tell myself. I know that on my journey to Christ, there will be times when I'll just have to keep trusting my faith, even if the path is pitch black and my inner flashlight has been extinguished.

God wasn’t lying when He said, Fear not, for I have called you by name. You are mine…You are precious in my eyes and I love you (Isaiah 43).

Wherever you are in your faith journey, remember these words. Don’t let doubts or struggle define you. God loves you more than you can imagine, and He is with you through it all, the highs and the lows. When you don’t feel Him, keep praying. Keep having faith. Don’t turn away or you’ll find yourself feeling even further from Him. If you endure the suffering in your life as Jesus did, you will conquer your struggles. Give yourself over to Him fully, no reservations, and He will make you into a beautiful vessel of His love.

We walk by faith, not by sight. This is a tough lesson to learn, but with it as an anchor, your faith can move mountains.


I pray that sharing my story has helped you in some way. Feel free to contact me with questions or comments at noah.faith@yahoo.com.