Where the dark night leads

It seems that most of us reach a moment in life where we wonder what the point of it all is. It can be brought on by literally anything, but often has its root in our mortality. If you ask the question: “what’s the point of it all? If I’m going to die, why bother?”, you’re probably experiencing this moment too. You might call it staring into the void; a sense that you’re looking over an endless landscape of apparent meaningless. It’s scary. It hurts. It seems impenetrable. 

Sometimes this is the centre of a midlife crisis. It’s like we get to the top of the hill that we’ve been climbing all our lives, see the view, think it’s going to be amazing. But just at that point, when you have crested the top, reached the pinnacle, is when you begin to see down the other side to the inevitable conclusion of your own mortality. Like winning a gold medal and then realising it’s just a piece of metal. It seems to me we then have a choice; either pretend you didn’t see anything and go find another hill to climb, or stare into the void. It takes real courage to face that, and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone until they are ready.

It's in moments like this that we search for a sure anchor to give us a sense of safety, comfort and meaning. This is when a lot of people turn to God, if they haven’t already. Or a higher cause, a purpose greater than ourselves. It feels amazing and meets a need, so we run with it.

But then 10, 15 years later, we might find ourselves at the top of another hill, staring out again into the void. “So God is with me, so I have found a greater purpose than me, but still, I will die, I will leave loved ones behind, nothing has really changed.” This returning to a bleak moment the Christian mystics would call the dark night of the soul. I find comfort in that; people more spiritual and mature than I have also found they have had to face this feeling.

And the answer? How could anyone definitively know? It seems like there are no more firm anchors that give a sense of safety, comfort, and meaning. No more chasing other dreams up a different hill, putting off the inevitable. Instead, there's a quiet, calm acceptance that this is where we find meaning—not in avoiding the uncertainty, but in embracing it.

Finding peace in not knowing might feel paradoxical, but it’s possible. We begin by leaning into our connections with others and deepening our understanding of ourselves. It’s in the small, daily acts of presence—truly listening to a friend, spending time in nature, or even feeling the ground beneath our feet—that we start to reclaim a sense of peace. When we stay present, we realize we aren’t alone. There is love and comfort in shared experience, and from there we can chart a course forward.

This course may look different for each of us. It might mean joining a community or supporting a cause that matters deeply. It might mean nurturing the relationships we already have with more authenticity. It might mean turning inward and practicing gratitude for the present moment, or even seeking guidance through meditation or prayer. The practical steps can be simple but deeply transformative—reflecting our commitment to be present and open, rather than always needing answers.

In facing the unknown, we grow—not in a straight line, but in cycles, much like the stages of faith described by Brian MacLaren: simplicity, complexity, perplexity, and eventually harmony. The harmony that emerges isn’t about certainty, but about learning to rest comfortably in the mystery of life. We find that we are enough as we are, and that our lives, with all their uncertainties, hold beauty and meaning.

To some, this journey forward might lead to world-changing acts, while for most of us, it’s about living our everyday lives with greater awareness, care, and compassion. This can look quite unimpressive on the outside, but inside, we find we have finally discovered a true home—a sense of belonging that doesn’t come from fixed answers but from our willingness to be present with ourselves and with others.