Spiritual Dryness

I see that it has been three weeks exactly since my last post, so I apologize to any of you who may have checked in on Emmaus Road during that time. My lack of writing seems to be an accurate reflection of my spiritual state of mind and heart during that time, as it seems like a bit of a spiritual drought.

Looking back I can see now how completely I emptied my tank in Honduras and the week or so afterward. I even described it to Jesse as "mission fatigue". The last straw was my frustrated attempt to establish dates for another trip to Honduras in 2010. I will just say that Habitat has not made it easy, and I'll leave it at that. And so by the end of April my spiritual resources had run dry, and I was at a loss as to how to replenish them.

It was not for lack of trying that the drought continued. I prayed and celebrated the Eucharist as usual, and even went on retreat with the Men's Group the last weekend of April. The retreat was a great experience and a good soaking rain, to stay with the meteorological metaphor. But it did not break the drought.

As I was leaving the retreat, I had a brief conversation with Fr. Louie, wherein I shared my experiences and frustrations with Habitat. I did not and still do not know whether God is calling me to lead another mission there, or whether these frustrations meant that it was time to move on. He sized me up in an instant, as he has an uncanny way of doing, and told me to spend time praying with no agenda -- to listen.

And so I have, yet for all my attempts at listening I still had no answers. It was not as if I received nothing -- even in a drought it rains sometimes, just not enough. I was feeling dead inside, not depressed or angry or even frustrated, just kind of dead. I could sometimes make a connection to God but I could not maintain it or achieve it reliably.

At the same time I became acutely aware of the rapid passage of time. I've actually had some very good experiences in that period. All three sons and Hunter were here for dinner on Mother's Day (Emily was with her family), which is a rare and blessed event, yet it was like an instant. Work has been good, and I have enjoyed the spring weather, planting a garden and working in the yard. Yet each day seemed like just a heartbeat.

I am not one to pine over such things or about growing older. I know that this sense of the rapid progression of time is probably part of getting older, and I accept that. But as I lay awake waiting for sleep, I have longed in a new way for the day when I finally see Christ's face, with the feeling that the faster time slides by the sooner that day will come.

Don't get me wrong, this is not some morose death wish kind of feeling. It is nothing but positive and uplifting, a new and more sure footing for my faith that one day I will be united with Christ. And that is new, and really kind of remarkable in the context of the "drought".

Saints and spiritual writers like St. Francis de Sales and Henri Nouwen have spoken about spiritual "dryness" and "aridity", and it's interesting that they choose the same metaphor. Mother Theresa went for more than fifty years without feeling the presence of God, even in the Eucharist, and still held tightly to her faith (now that's a drought!). Some have called this "the dark night of the soul", though that would be a somewhat melodramatic and overwrought description for my situation. Still I have been in a new and strange place these three weeks.

Last night though I had an Emmaus Moment. On my way to Mass, I guess I was thinking about my state of soul, and for some reason I put a song on my iPod in the car that I just bought -- "He Leadeth Me" performed by Sara Watkins (formerly of Nickel Creek). I'm not sure why I chose this song or even bought it in the first place, except that she has written and performed other spiritual songs I really liked (see The Hand Song from the first Nickel Creek CD). The song is performed in a very simple and spare style on guitar and violin:

1. He leadeth me:  O blessed thought! 
 O words with heavenly comfort fraught! 
 Whate'er I do, where'er I be,
 still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me. 

Refrain:
 He leadeth me, he leadeth me,
 by his own hand he leadeth me;
 his faithful follower I would be,
 for by his hand he leadeth me.

2. Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom,
 sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom,
 by waters still, o'er troubled sea,
 still 'tis his hand that leadeth me. 
 (Refrain)

3. Lord, I would place my hand in thine,
 nor ever murmur nor repine;
 content, whatever lot I see,
 since 'tis my God that leadeth me. 
 (Refrain)

4. And when my task on earth is done,
 when by thy grace the victory's won,
 e'en death's cold wave I will not flee,
 since God through Jordan leadeth me. 
 (Refrain)

And that's when it hit me that indeed He leadeth me, even when I feel I am in drought. When she sang "by His own hand he leadeth me" I felt the drought ending. What an image. So once again I am reminded of how Cleopas and the other disciple must have felt as Jesus broke bread and blessed it, ending their spiritual drought.