Precipitating: To hasten the occurrence of; bring about prematurely, hastily, or suddenly. – Dictionary.com 

TRIGGER WARNING: As with most of the Dark Testimony pieces in this series on the Problems of Evangelicalism, be warned that this story contains accounts of spiritual abuse. However, it also contains great encouragement, so it’s probably worth it!

The Precipitating Event

The Dark Night of the Soul is, for many believers, something they have never heard of. For others, it is something that they have experienced – and may still be experiencing, that or something like it^[1] – but haven’t got a name for. For yet others, it is an experience that they recognise, and take full advantage of. I have written on the subject of the Dark Night extensively, the main such piece being the sixth part part of the series ‘The Stages of Spiritual Growth‘, a piece entitled ‘The Wall’. If you’re not familiar with the concept of the Dark Night, may I gently suggest that you go and read that piece first; it will be well worth it!

For many people who enter the Dark Night, there appears to be a ‘precipitating event’ – the thing that begins the process, tips the person ‘over the edge’, or the ‘spark that starts the fire'^[2]. This could be something like a life trauma – loss of a loved one; a scary medical diagnosis; loss of a job – or it could be church disillusionment, or indeed anything else including even good things. Maybe the birth of a child shakes up your foundations of faith; you realise how Father God feels about you because of the way you feel about your own child. I speak more on this subject in the article ‘Dark Night of the Soul – Revisited‘. For me – and it’s just come back to mind just now, which is why I’m writing about it! – I’m afraid it was yet another episode of spiritual abuse.

Here’s what happened.

For a year or so after the birth of my daughter in 1998, Fiona and I were involved in helping a local Anglican church to move into the realm of what you might call ‘modern’ songs. Essentially, we, along with a small team of musicians from that church, introduced modern songs (i.e. not your old bog-standard ‘hymns’) into their worship. We did this once per month, at the request of the Vicar in that church, and we did it on an entirely voluntary basis; we were unpaid. Which was fine.

In general, the congregation were behind it and liked the new music. We didn’t bring any ‘happy-clappy’ stuff; it was more of the quiet devotional kinds of worship songs that we did. I even performed a few solo Don Francisco songs on occasion. In general, it went very well, including two particularly memorable incidents: one where another worship leader from another church came and complimented me on my leading and said he recognised the anointing; and another time when an old lady went over ‘in the Spirit'^[3] and they didn’t realise that had happened. No-one there had ever seen it before, you see, but I could tell that that was what had happened. And hey, if I’d been wrong, well, they had actually called an ambulance for her and the paramedics turned up and pronounced her completely fine and also very happy! So, all good.

There was also an elderly couple there that were really keen on the music. I assume they were like closet Evangelicals or something, because after every service where we contributed, they would come up and say how pleased they were that we were introducing the new songs. I don’t know what they were called, but as is always the case in meetings of any kind where people are up at the front leading, likely everyone in the 300+ congregants feels like they actually know you where in actual fact, of course, they really don’t. And, because of their evident enthusiasm, it was a great surprise to me that the abuse, when it came, was delivered by the wife in that couple. Underneath her sanctimonious exterior, it turned out that there was a bitter and judgmental old bag that felt entitled to judge me and then to rebuke me, a complete stranger.

What happened was that on one of the occasions where I was leading, there was also a ‘baptism’ – actually, being Church of England, it was a ‘Christening’; infant baptism – and most of the congregation were at the back, clustered around the font, to watch. I was talking quietly with one of the music team; we were still out at the front of the church, and a fair way away from the font. He’d asked me something about – of all things – throwing objects; you know, like a cricket ball. Or a hand grenade. Or whatever. And I was demonstrating the actions as we discussed things. All very quiet, everyone looking away from us and concentrating on the main event: the baptism. I thought nothing of it at the time; the baptism completed, the congregation took their seats again and we carried on with the next song.

But then, after the service, that old bag came up to me and started laying in to me about that she wanted to know what I was playing at waving my arms around like that during such a solemn event as a baptism. Genuinely perplexed, I politely asked her what she was referring to. I didn’t have a clue; it was only later when my friend mentioned about the ‘throwing’ action I’d been demonstrating that I realised^[4]. At the time, I flippantly suggested that maybe I was ‘praising the Lord’ or something. You know, by raising my hands? “No you weren’t!” she snarled, really nastily and viciously. “You were trying to disrupt the baptism!” I managed to keep myself in check and just quietly said that “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing in this church”. All this while my daughter was in her pushchair, watching this strange interaction between her dad and this random old bag. But of course the hag didn’t care; these kinds of people never do. She didn’t care about the damage she was doing; not at all. Eventually I just walked out, carrying my keyboard bag in one hand and pushing the buggy with the other, pursued by the strains of this ranting old biddy.

It might look like a standard sort of complaint – albeit badly delivered – by someone who was offended by something that a fellow congregant did. But the reasons I refer to it as abuse are many-fold, not least of which are a) there was no relationship between us, within which she could have any right to deliver such a rebuke; b) she did it publicly, ignoring (as, most of the time, these people tend to do) her own Rulebook where Jesus said to confront people privately; c) she really didn’t need to be so nasty about it; d) I was a volunteer, for crying out loud; giving my services and my time for free! That’s no way to treat someone who is giving freely!; e) because of what happened afterwards.

What happened afterwards? Well, she only went and told others in the church that I had actually told her to ‘go to Hell’, didn’t she. This lie, of course, took hold like wildfire, and the poor Vicar had to come round to see me and apologise gently for his congregation’s behaviour, and to (again gently) discuss our future plans with regard to our leading the ‘new worship’. In the end, we decided to discontinue it because my ‘reputation’ with them had been befouled by that evil old hag and her lies. I have to say that, since this happened nearly thirty years ago, the old bag is thankfully now long dead and gone. Sorry-not-sorry, but that’s the gritty reality of my feelings. That’s one less judgmental old hag blighting the church, and the world is a better place for that^[5].

But the thing is that, even before the Vicar had come round to see me, I had decided that enough was enough and I never wanted to set foot in a church again. A place where a complete stranger can come up and abuse a person as if they have some sort of right to do that – probably, in her view, a divine right because, almost universally, religious people seem to delude themselves into thinking they have that right. I’d just had enough.

And so, that was my Precipitating Event. The thing that pushed me out of church life for fifteen years; fifteen gloriously free years of still walking with Jesus and yet free of all of the restrictions and hassle of church life. As I described in my essay ‘Still your Soul in Silence‘, the Lord had warned me about the upcoming upheaval, and I have to say that from this side of the Night, I can see all that He did before, during and afterwards as part of His plan. Some people don’t believe in God’s plans; I can understand that, especially as how the concept is so abused by Evangelical pastors (especially youth pastors), but the reality of it is that God does work with and in humans to bring about His purposes. I am convinced of this; I have been walking with Jesus for 46 years now and, despite being a cynical (retired) scientist, and someone who’s well aware of the existence of confirmation bias, I still see His plan. I have learned to do so through all the trials that life has thrown my way and let me say that God’s plans, and His wisdom and genius in carrying out those plans, run far deeper than any youth pastor, indeed any human, can fathom. These are the things that St. Paul talks about in Romans 11:33 where he says, “Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out!”.

It’s also the sort of thing that you learn by being close to Him and following Him. Psalm 63:8 says, “I cling to You; Your right hand upholds me”, or, better, the KJV version, “My soul followeth hard after Thee” (Ps 63:8 (KJV)). And “The secret of the Lord is with those who fear Him; He shall make them know His covenants” (Ps 25:14 (KJV))

No matter what part of your faith walk you are presently ‘at’, you will doubtless know of things in your own life where you can see places where God has done things; said things;  worked things out. All of these things build up over the course of your life in order to build trust more and more in Him and in His unshakable faithfulness.

And remember that His faithfulness is independent of yours. He is the One Who will continue His work in your life, through thick and thin, to make you into the person you want to be. None of it is dependent on you because not only is He the One Who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before His glorious Presence faultless and with great joy (Jude 24), but also He is the One Who will do it. He is the One Who will carry on the work until it is completed (Phil 1:6). He will do it. Not you; in fact, it has nothing at all to do with your actions or anything. Grace is a gift from start to finish; Grace is not in any way dependent on behaviour. Remember that for me, God was transforming me, teaching me, pruning me from all the religious rubbish, and doing so many other things, and all while I was deliberately and purposefully staying away from churches because, well, that’s what the Dark Night does. Nothing ‘sinful’ about it; not that I’d have cared even if someone thought it was. It was just the place where I was ‘at’ in that time of my life; guided by His Hand and safe in His everlasting arms (Dt 33:27).

And it was a healthy and productive time of growth, no matter what other believers thought about me at the time. Part of me being in that Dark Night was that I was learning to disregard the opinions of others regarding my spiritual walk, because it’s entirely between me and God.

Because  – He is faithful. Yes, He is Faithful.

And so, I’m afraid I almost have to thank the old bag. Because she was instrumental in pushing me over the edge and into the Dark Night proper.

Over the course of my faith life before my Dark Night, I would often feel, in faith terms, as if I was driving a fast car down the centre of a road. And every so often I would burn out or become disillusioned, or something similar. And so at those times it was as if the car was swerving left and right across the road; wheels on the edge of the road at one point, wheels almost in the ditch at another. I often wondered if the car would ever come off the road entirely^[6]. Well, it did, thanks to the actions of that stranger who believed she had the right to speak into my life. I crashed out completely, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. That’s not to say that I believe that God foreordains evil things; that’s going into the realms of Calvinism, which toxic doctrines I steer clear of. But it does show that God can use even church abuse in order to bring about His purposes.

And I find that quite encouraging!