Have you ever suffered through a “dark night of the soul”? Have you experienced black doubt that cripples your faith, obscures the truth, and chokes your joy? Maybe you are going through such a time now. If not, you may eventually. If so, you are in good company. Many heroes of the faith have. Godly men and women in all times and places have struggled through these dark trials.

Last winter, I went through my own “dark night of the soul”. I was working alone at a wildlife refuge in central Wisconsin over winter break, doing computer work during the day, and at night returning to a dark, empty bunkhouse. With no one to talk to and nothing to do but sit and think under the weak glow of the bunkhouse lights, old, dark questions that previously had troubled me returned with a vengeance. Like a grim specter, the dreadful question of “Am I really saved?” occupied my mind. I have long struggled with this particular doubt, but never have I experienced such an assault on my faith as I did that winter. Questions often breed more questions, and so it was for me. As my analytical mind tried to argue each question into submission, new ones sprang up.

“What if I have not repented of my sins?”
“What if I was not truly sorry for my mistakes?
“What if my repentance is false, and just a product of my upbringing?
“What if I haven’t said the write words, or prayed the right prayer?”

“What if I cannot truly repent, if I have not before?”
“What if I cannot feel the right emotions needed for genuine repentance?”
“What if I need to deny all the work I thought God did in my life to repent?”
“What if I love religion, but not Jesus?”

“What if God has predestined my damnation?”
“What if, no matter how much I want it, God withholds saving repentance?”
“What if I am wrong, and after death I discover I never found salvation?”
“What if I spend my life chasing God, but He hides from me?”

These may seem like foolish questions to some, but in the moment, they were deadly serious. Worst still was that I did little to stop them. Instead, I aided them, by trying to use my mind to prove or disprove my fears. My knowledge of Scripture and theology, something I placed my spiritual worth in, betrayed me, because I knew Christians disagreed about these questions. Some very wise preachers and theologians believe God chooses to save and damn who He will, and I knew their beliefs had some Scriptural backing. Additionally, what question has greater life-or-death importance than “Am I truly saved?”. Jesus separating his true followers from those not actually following him, is, and probably will always be a passage that inspires nervousness in my heart. That winter, I feared I would be among the unhappy lot to whom Christ would say the most terrifying words in the Bible: “I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!” I wrestled with these doubts every night for two weeks, turning them over in my mind until like stones in a river they grew smooth and featureless, slipping out of my weakening grasp.

I was so ashamed with myself. I was a leader in Cru, but I doubted that the very Gospel I taught others to trust in was meant for me. I had followed Jesus all my life; since I was young serving Christ was my grand purpose. Yet, I doubted that God wanted me. I tried to prove (or, God forbid, earn again) my salvation by recounting the works I had done in Christ’s name. But I knew those meager deeds could do nothing to grant me right standing with God. In a moment of dark despair, I considered that if God had chosen to damn me and withhold salvation from me, the only thing to do was spend my whole life preaching the very Gospel that had eluded me, so that some people might find the joy and salvation God had chosen to withhold from me. Maybe God would choose to lessen my punishment if I still tried to serve Him as imperfect and insufficient as the service of a wicked man could be to God Most High. I have never been in a darker place.

After two weeks, I felt I could not fall any further. Terror over my potential damnation grabbed me at every side. Everything I believed, everything I thought I was had been called into question. The purpose, hope, and joy I thought my life had were stripped away by doubt. There was no respite in prayer, no relief in worship or reading my Bible, no comfort in talking to my parents or friends, only desperation and fear. And after two weeks of desperately clinging to God, clutching my already fragile assurance like a fraying rope dangling over a gorge, I began to feel my weak grip slipping. I could not hold, my strength was too weak. The rope, that last illusion of hope, slipped from my tired, bloody fingers. I fell.

But then the most curious thing happened. I fell, yes, but only so far. There was a safety net right under me that I had not seen before. Or rather, instead of a net, a floor, hard as granite, with not an inch of give. A solid Rock, or a firm Foundation, if you rather. I could not fall any further, I just lay spread out on that immovable floor. At the end of my strength, God revealed to me that it was He that clung to me, not the other way around. When I lost my grip, all I lost was the illusion of assurance, and by losing it I found the real thing. God showed me through this experience that it was simply not possible for me to lose my faith, lose my salvation, or lose the new life Christ had won for me on Calvary. I was His forever, by the power of His strong right arm, not of my frail will or mind.

I cannot say I stopped struggling all together to dwell in that “blessed assurance”. From time to time, fear still grips me, like when I am writing this right now. But instead of fighting those questions with my mind, or will, I remember the floor I found when I fell that winter. I remember that I made the choice to respond to God’s grace, and now nothing can ever pluck me from His hand. If I fall again, I know my heavenly Father will only let me fall so far before He catches me.

This encouragement I give to those who are in Christ and struggle with this doubt. God will not let you fall all the way out of His love. You are His, His treasured possession, the child the blood of His Son purchased and raised to new life. We do not hold onto God, He holds on to us. And praise Him for that, because our strength is weak. In John 10:28, Jesus says “I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand.” Find hope in that truth alone.

And to those who have not found God’s grace, come, die, and be made new. Build your life on the steadfast foundation of Christ’s death and resurrection. If you surrender your life wholly to God, acknowledging Jesus Christ as His only Son, and as Lord and Savior, the only source of salvation and forgiveness, you too will find a peace and assurance that endures and weather all the storms of life. God holds on to and blesses His children; simply come and find refuge in the completed work of Jesus Christ.