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It’s not an easy thing to talk about really. It’s so much easier to try and be clever. And of course, the beauty of spending enough time in a Christian culture is you can get very good at it; you can say all the right stuff so that no-one (except those very close to you) notice anything is wrong, unless you want them to. Just get into a doctrinal debate, or onto your favourite illustrations. Talk about the weather, talk about the gospel even, talk about anything except how you are really doing. I mean, I don’t want to scare anyone. But then again, I’ve probably reached the point where I don’t really care.

I don’t even know what to call it. ‘Backsliding‘, perhaps? In the church culture I come from that term seems to be reserved for those who really go off the rails, you know - the classic AWOL cases. ‘Spiritual dryness’ seems to be the more PC, the more respectable - and less stigmatised - term for what I’m going through, although I’m not sure what the difference is, in all honesty.

Doubts. ‘Have I just got this whole thing wrong?’, ‘There seem to be a lot of people out there doing quite well without the gospel…’, ‘Why don’t I feel anything when I pray?’, ‘Why does the Bible not excite me any more?’, ‘Let’s be honest, why I would I rather be doing something else - anything else - than spending time with God’s people?’, ‘Am I just a product of conditioning?’…

Tiredness. Of the spiritual variety. ‘I’ve just run out of steam in this ministry. Frankly, I couldn’t care less. Someone else can worry about it. When they eventually notice I’m not really doing it…’

Melancholy. What a great word. But what an awful feeling. I have no joy, no peace.

I’m not bitter and twisted. I don’t blame any one else for my arrival in this place. I’m as tired as the next man of all those worn-out excuses for disillusionment - “I just couldn’t stand the hypocrisy of other so-called Christians...” - you know that sort of nonsense (as if they have never had a hypocritical thought in the last five minutes…)

Nope, I’m sure I have no-one to blame except myself, I’m just not sure how I got here - or how to get back out. I’ve been here for such a long time now, that I frequently lack the energy and the inclination to analyse it.

Of course, when you’re doing well spiritually you have all the theory - hey, I know where it’s at - I’ve read ‘Spiritual Depression‘ twice at least. The problem is course, when you are this low, when the doubts REALLY creep in, when the heavens are as lead as they say, then the questions change - ‘Do I actually want to get out of here?’, ‘Perhaps I quite like rebounding between arrogant individualism and self-pity?’, ‘Maybe that’s as good as it gets so I should just go and find some more distractions? After all, some of them are quite good fun.’

And that’s scary for anyone with theory.

One thing I do know - and this is not just theory - is that the only slight parting clouds, the only chink of light over the last couple of months, has been when I have been reminded of grace. And then only enough to prick my ears up a little, not to turn my life around. The rest of the time, everything inside of me tells me to read more, to pray more, to pull myself together, to just be better. And that simply makes the clouds thicker, heavier, and more oppressive. Because that’s the very thing I have no inclination to be right now.

But to hear people talk about grace does quicken the pulse, slightly. And it does stir some faint feelings of motivation to love Jesus. I’m not saying the clouds part and I see everything new; but even so this, I suppose, is no coincidence.