Hiking the Clouds: The Journey to Mature Faithਨਮੂਨਾ

The Waypoint of Endurance

God does not deprive us of Himself, but He hides Himself that we may seek Him with greater desire. - Teresa of Avila

“Now faith is…the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1) You only really have faith when you can't see what's ahead but still choose to trust God is leading you.

The waypoint of Endurance is where faith is tested—or maybe where deep faith truly begins. It’s the part of the climb when the clouds roll in, clarity fades, and every step feels steep and uncertain. What used to work no longer works. God may seem silent.

This can feel like a crisis of faith. Or worse, the end of our faith. But it's all part of the process. It's where we begin hiking the clouds of mature faith.

In my forties, I had my own Endurance season. I woke up one morning convinced it was my last year to live. That year was full of anxiety, failure, health challenges, and silence from God. My confidence crumbled. I felt abandoned by God. When I was honest, I even felt angry at Him at times.

Friends gave advice and tried to encourage me: “Pray more.” or “Just have faith.” Some even gently rebuked me: “Maybe there’s hidden sin in your life.”

I know they wanted to help, but most of it only deepened my pain. Like Job, whose friends tried their best to encourage but ended up offering trite answers, I realized they simply didn’t understand. The only person I could go to was God, the one I felt had abandoned me.

At the waypoint of Endurance, God seems to take away the very structures that once supported our faith. We’re forced into a dark cave with nothing but raw honesty before Him.

Here, many people abandon the journey. The disappointment of unanswered prayer, the weight of silence, and the collapse of control can feel unbearable. And honestly, I don’t blame them. Nothing feels worse than God’s seemed silence when you need him most.

But for those who keep walking, this place becomes holy ground.

Endurance isn’t about forcing more virtue, stockpiling more knowledge, or trying harder to control ourselves. It’s about learning to live without clarity. It’s about surrender. It’s about continuing forward even when God feels absent.

This stage has been called the Dark Night of the Soul. Jeremiah cried out, “O Lord, you have deceived me, and I was deceived” (Jer. 20:7). Even Jesus cried, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46, quoting the Psalm in today’s reading.)

Endurance means we face the silence honestly. We bring our frustration, anger, and doubt before God instead of burying them. This can be challenging or feel irreverent. Are we allowed to question God or feel negatively toward him? We wrestle with Him in the dark. (For the record, I believe God doesn’t mind our honesty and frustration. After all, He already knows our heart.)

In this stage, there is no formula. No book or program can pull us out. Even the wisest mentors can’t give us answers that stick. We have to walk through this phase trusting the very God who seems to refuse to give us answers.

But trust this: God’s silence is not his absence—it’s his invitation. Like a teacher sitting silently as we take a test, God is allowing us to show what we've learned to this point. His silence is not rejection—it’s confidence.

Slowly, through the fog, we develop faith that isn’t propped up by feelings, miracles, or constant clarity. We begin to fix our eyes on what is unseen and eternal (2 Corinthians 4:18). Our relationship with God shifts from control to surrender, from certainty to trust. We may walk with a limp, we may feel scarred, but we come into a luminous darkness—a deeper awareness of God’s love that doesn’t depend on what we see or feel.

This is Endurance. This is hiking the clouds.