The opening verse of Psalm 130 vividly portrays the gut-wrenching cry emanating from a soul deep-stricken with a loss of sensibility of God’s presence. The Puritan John Owen confessed to a young man who was seeking counsel from him that for twenty years he had preached of the one Mediator between God and man without possessing experimental knowledge of what he was proclaiming – until, as he says, “I was brought to the mouth of the grave, and under which my soul was oppressed with horror and darkness.” This is the soul malady known as spiritual deser­tion and is a cross known only to the child of God. It refers to the depths into which our sovereign God at times, and according to His good pleasure, allows His people to plunge headlong. However profound these depths may be, they are not the depths of hell draped with the mist of darkness; there is in them no malice, condemnation, or wrath. Sink as the regenerate soul may into unfathomable depths of dread darkness, it ever finds the Rock of Ages beneath. The unregenerate indeed know of these depths but not in the manner of God’s children. It brings them no nearer to God and even serves to drive them further from God (Rev. 16:9).

The question, however, that arises deep within the heart of every believer is, “Why have I fallen into this God-forsaken pit? Has God finally rejected me and turned His face?” As in a moment, there is an acute sense of the loss of God’s love which the soul had previously delighted in (Rom. 8:15; 1 Pet. 1:8). The Holy Spirit who once shone so brightly in gospel assurance now seems to be a smoking flax. Where then, we ask, is that “love of God (which was) shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost?” But rest assured it is God who, in His fatherly way, sends and governs these abandonments.

The most common cause for this soul distress arises from the existence, power, and ever-deceiving remnants of indwelling sin in the regenerate. The believer may and must have the abiding assurance that once the Holy Spirit renews the soul in the cleansing from all sin, he is a new creature in Christ. But the same Holy Spirit never uproots the principle and root of sin from his heart; it will remain as a plague to the end. We stand sore amazed as the plough of the Spirit tears through new areas of corruption within the heart, revealing once more the depths of corruption contained therein. Beloved, you who to Christ for refuge have fled, never imagine that your warfare is over. Christ indeed has won the victory over sin’s dominion and power, but this does not mean that your path to heaven will be clear and carefree. Real growth in grace and preparation for heaven is a growing acquaintance with yourself, your own sinfulness, and the hidden recesses and pockets of sin still contained within your heart.

But then there are also those outbreaks of sin appearing as the fruit of sin’s baneful presence within, bringing with them the grievous consequence of conscious loss of communion with God. This is the experience of even the most mature believer (Job 42:6; Ps. 51:2). Who can fully describe the depth of sorrow occasioned by the awareness of wilful departure from the Lord, such as Peter when he went out and “wept bitterly”? But our gracious God will never leave His erring and backsliding child to lie long in this barren wasteland with no refreshment. Sooner or later, His Spirit by the Word will call the wayfarer back to his feet with the confession and prayer, “Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed” (Jer. 17:14).

Times of perceived spiritual desertion also come upon those who are plunged into mental affliction. Many gracious souls have been immersed in the dread night of depression where no light is visible on any side.

Octavius Winslow wrote,

Through many a dark, starless night the spiritual voyager ploughs through the ocean to the desired haven where he would be.

It is far more the province of faith to travel in the dark than in light, at night and not in the day. And then, because mind and body are so intimately connected, so too the onset of unexpected and debilitating physical illness, dangling the life of the believer over the mouth of the grave by a fine thread, can bring an intense season of night upon the soul. Mortality comes to life in a startling way, bringing with it the overwhelming complaint,

Lord, why are my days being cut off in the midst of my years? Why am I being deprived of my usefulness in Thy service?cf. Isa. 38:10

And so the soul struggles in the darkness of confusion and endless questioning.

Yet, beloved, if ever there is a place where the gentleness and sympathy of Christ is abundantly present, it is beside the one who is suffering mental torment and intense physical affliction. Remember the tenderness with which Jesus deals with “the sick one whom he loveth” (John 11). With great forbearance and concern, He draws near to His own who have been plunged into the dark hole of melancholy and who suffer such bodily affliction that they despair of life itself. He remembers that we are but dust, and from no heart in the entire universe does such loving compassion, tenderness, and sympathy flow as that from the heart of Christ.