Overwhelming desolations are part of the experience of a true Christian walk. They literally are the makes-us or break-us strife that we face in life.

Consolations are what every Christian seeks in the experience of the walk of faith. The warmth of the Sun, the embrace of family on Christmas morning, as little kids scamper towards the tree. Consolations are that very sensible experience that God is good, life is good and we are safe to rest within His care. Saint John of the Cross, in his epic work Dark night of the Soul, described consolations as the sensible sweetness we seek from God and sometimes receive from God.

The soul naturally seeks to be affirmed, uplifted and consoled. That is our default position- the longing to be happy or, at least, not to suffer.

Much of the lie of modern religion is built on the sale of an idea that a relationship with God automatically translates to things gained and happiness achieved so that we actually seek the sweetness more than the God who can provide it. This is the central problem posed in Dark night of the Soul and the uncomfortable reality revealed. Consolations in life are wonderful when we experience them, but they can never be the reason for our faith. We must love and choose God for the sake of Himself and not for the comfort He may choose to give us.

There is only one way for that to be tested and that is in the crucible. That's when we prove to ourselves that we truly want to be a friend to Jesus and not merely a lip servant who cries out ''Lord, Lord'' even as we seek our own exaltation.

The storms of life are the mystery God hides behind. This isn't something I simply imagine to be true. It's what the gospels show us. In the storm, the scared disciples cry out "Lord, do you not even care that we are perishing?" (Mark 4:38). In the storm, we are reminded that only He can calm the wind and waves and only He can call us to Himself, even if by walking on the water. The painful truth is that He saves us by killing us.

Yes, ultimately, in physical death, God takes us to Himself. However, before that is the death to self that must be bore by every believer. We literally become crucified with Christ (Galatians 2:20) so that salvation is not something He does for us, externally but through us and with us.

We participate in the sufferings of Christ to fill up what is lacking.

Colossians 1

⁴ Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church, ²⁵ of which I became a minister according to the divine office which was given to me for you, to make the word of God fully known, ²⁶ the mystery hidden for ages and generations but now made manifest to his saints.

At first blush, this doctrine seems repugnant. For we imagine that nothing could be lacking in the sufferings of Christ. In the sense of material sufficiency, that is certainly true. Jesus' suffering and death provided sufficient graces to save all mankind. However, like it or not, we all must drink from the same cup.

Matthew 20

²⁰ Then the mother of the sons of Zeb′edee came up to him, with her sons, and kneeling before him she asked him for something. ²¹ And he said to her, “What do you want?” She said to him, “Command that these two sons of mine may sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.” ²² But Jesus answered, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I am to drink?” They said to him, “We are able.” ²³ He said to them, “You will drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.” ²⁴ And when the ten heard it, they were indignant at the two brothers. ²⁵ But Jesus called them to him and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great men exercise authority over them. ²⁶ It shall not be so among you; but whoever would be great among you must be your servant, ²⁷ and whoever would be first among you must be your slave; ²⁸ even as the Son of man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Our love of Christ is proven when we drink the cup of bitterness. The bitterness of tragedy and of failure, of rejection and loneliness and isolation and humiliation. We say that we wish to be like Jesus. Do we?

Sure, everyone wants to be the Jesus who taught, who ministered, who healed, who worked miracles. Few want to be the Jesus who was mocked, scourged, spat upon, beaten, degraded and killed.

In desolations, we are often not given the choice. We often feel weighed down beyond our strength while the arrogant boast all around us. We may not choose the desolation, and we may even cry out in agony.

In the desolation, we can seek God. Though we hope to escape the desolation, we seek God even if we don't. That's when we truly drink from the bitter cup that brings life.