Israel Centeno

There are moments in the life of the soul when everything that once brought comfort—words, the senses, even prayer—loses its color, its taste, its strength. This experience, which St. John of the Cross described as the dark night of the soul, is not simply a phase of sadness or apathy, but a process of profound purification, an inner transformation that can lead us to a more intimate union with God. It is painful, yes. But it also carries a hidden promise: the promise of the living water Christ offered to the Samaritan woman, the water that quenches all thirst.

In this stage, what comes through the senses begins to weary the soul. It no longer excites, no longer pleases. A kind of existential fatigue sets in: the music that once stirred the heart now feels distant, words of encouragement fall flat, even visible beauty seems faded. The will no longer finds satisfaction in external things. That’s when a deeper desire awakens—a thirst that nothing created can satisfy. It is the thirst for God.

But God does not come. Or at least not as one expects. And fear arises—the fear of being alone, without comfort, without direction, without the presence of the One who promised to be a source of eternal life. One experiences the silence of God not as absence, but as a test: Will you still seek Me even if you don’t feel Me? Will you love Me in the darkness?

It is at this point that the purest form of fidelity is revealed. Persevering in prayer, even when nothing is felt, becomes an act of love that transcends emotion. Accepting this dryness not as a punishment but as part of the path is embracing a mature faith. The promise remains: “Whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst again.” Even if you still feel thirst now, that very thirst is a sign that you have already begun to drink of that water which satisfies the soul forever.

Do not be afraid of God’s silence. Roots grow in the dark. He is there—even if you do not see Him, even if you do not feel Him. The soul is being stripped of superficial supports, of the need to feel God, so it can arrive at a love that gives itself even in the shadows.

If you can, seek someone to walk with you spiritually. An experienced guide can help you recognize that you are not lost, but being transformed. That you are not abandoned, but called into a deeper mystery.

This will pass. The night is not eternal. And though you do not know when or how, God will fulfill His promise. The felt absence is often the prelude to a deeper presence. When you least expect it, that living water will begin to well up within you—not like a rushing torrent, but as a serene peace that no longer depends on what you feel, but on what you are: deeply loved, even in the night.