Why looking for signs can quietly undermine faith
However it begins, this habit of looking for signs is wrong in principle and harmful in its results.
Recently, while reading the memoirs of the devout Lady Maxwell, I came across an early act of consecration that caught my attention. It was sincere and heartfelt, yet phrased in a way that suggests her judgment at that time was not as settled as it later became. The relevant portion reads like this:
“If you, Lord, will reveal your dear Son to me — if you will clear up my assurance that I belong to him, pour his love continually into my heart, draw me to him with cords of love, strengthen me in trials, and never leave me in duty or temptation — then, in your strength, I give myself to you, soul, body, and spirit, in an everlasting covenant.”It’s clear that she genuinely wanted to give herself entirely to God. But it also seems just as clear that she hesitated to do so without conditions. She wasn’t ready to surrender herself fully unless she first received some special assurance — some inner confirmation or emotional experience — that would guarantee God’s acceptance ahead of time.
That hesitation reveals the real problem. True consecration means committing yourself completely and without reserve into God’s hands. Without that kind of trust, consecration has no real substance. In this case, Lady Maxwell appears to have lacked the faith needed to make that surrender without first securing a special sign of divine favor — something felt, perceived, or experienced that would reassure her before she took the step of full obedience.
Many sincere believers can recognize themselves here. Those who now live in steady faith often admit that earlier in their spiritual lives they struggled in exactly the same way. Because this issue matters so much in practice, it’s worth looking at a few more examples.
The temptation to bargain with God
One writer describes their struggle of faith like this:
“My desire for holiness grew stronger, and my mind felt heavily burdened. I knew I needed to make a new and complete consecration to God, yet I shrank back from such total surrender. I often thought that if the Lord would give me some sign — a pledge that He would meet me and supply the grace I needed — then I could commit myself fully. But in my weakness, I dared not step forward on his bare promise alone.”
No such sign came. Eventually, this person realized that the surrender had to be unconditional.
Another writer recounts a similar experience:
“After a long struggle with unbelief, I made a covenant with the Lord: if he would keep me from sin for one day, I would believe that full salvation was possible. The next day passed in deep peace — even situations that normally would have stirred anger didn’t disturb me. But when it came time to trust God fully, unbelief won again. I asked for another sign — one full week of the same experience. I already had enough evidence, but I demanded more. My request was denied.”
In both cases, the heart of the problem is the same: faith was made dependent on proof. God’s promise alone didn’t feel sufficient.
The kinds of signs people seek
1. External signs
These include outward, observable events: visions seen with the eyes, voices heard with the ears, unusual coincidences, striking providences, or even vivid impressions tied to particular Bible passages. In rare cases, people imagine the physical appearance of Christ himself.
Biblical examples exist—Paul’s experience on the road to Damascus, or Stephen seeing heaven opened. But these are extraordinary exceptions, not the rule.
2. Internal mental experiences
These aren’t outward sensations but inner revelations that feel vivid and certain — mental pictures of heaven, angels, or eternal realities. When genuine, they come as clear communications to the intellect and leave no doubt. Still, they don’t necessarily touch the heart or transform character. Paul’s being “caught up to the third heaven” fits this category.
3. Emotional experiences
This is perhaps the most common category: intense sorrow, overwhelming joy, deep awe, emotional melting, or ecstatic delight. Often people look for a specific emotional pattern — one that matches the experience of someone else they admire. In these cases, it’s not just the emotion itself that matters, but its particular shape or intensity. That uniqueness becomes the “sign.”
Across all three categories, the pattern is the same: people hesitate to trust God fully unless they receive something extra — something they can feel, see, or experience first.
Why this approach reveals unbelief
I once read the life of a devout Scottish woman, Elizabeth Cairns, whose experience illustrates this problem clearly. From early life, God’s Spirit worked in her heart. But lacking sound instruction, she came to depend almost entirely on powerful manifestations and emotional experiences as proof of God’s favor.
When these experiences were vivid, she was joyful. When they faded — as they inevitably did — she plunged into despair. Her life swung violently between rapture and misery. During her dark seasons, she felt abandoned by God and assaulted by overwhelming temptations.
Well-meaning friends tried to help her. One wise Christian told her that she had to give up this way of living — or it would destroy her. She explained that mature believers are meant to live by faith, not by constant sensory assurance. Early on, God may grant strong feelings, just as a mother carries a child. But as the child grows, she lets it walk on its own — even fall — while her love remains unchanged.
Ms Cairns later admitted that this was good advice — but she didn’t know how to follow it. She confessed that she wanted to stay on the “mountain of manifestations,” not realizing that faith means handing God a blank check and letting him decide what experiences to grant or withhold.
The result of her mistake was prolonged inner turmoil — spiritual instability, temptation, and despair. Given her reliance on extraordinary experiences instead of simple trust, it’s hard to imagine how it could have turned out differently.
A broader pattern—and a better way
Similar patterns appear in other religious memoirs, including that of Ms Susanna Anthony of Newport, written by Dr. Hopkins. Many such accounts focus heavily on dramatic experiences — visions, revelations, raptures — followed by long periods of darkness and struggle.
By contrast, the steady life of faith produces balance. It smooths the path, levels extremes, and keeps the soul grounded. This is the life we see in figures like Johannes Tauler, Thomas à Kempis, François Fénelon, Bishop Robert Leighton, Jonathan Edwards, and John Wesley — people who lived quietly, faithfully, and consistently for God’s glory rather than for spiritual excitement.
This raises an important question: are these dramatic memoirs really as helpful as we assume? They may be fascinating, but they often distort the true nature of Christian life. They don’t sound like the life of Paul — and even less like the life of Christ.
Key Conclusions
God’s design is not that we live by special experiences, but by trusting his word. Faith is the foundation of reconciliation with God. Without it, there can be no lasting harmony.
Jesus himself said it plainly: “Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have believed.”
Here’s a simple test: if you’re seeking a particular experience before you’re willing to trust and obey God, then you’re seeking a sign. You’re asking for something in addition to God’s promise — and that reveals lingering distrust.
2. Living by signs feeds selfishness
The life of faith is a life of self‑renunciation. The life of signs is a life of control. When we insist on having things our way — our preferred experiences, on our terms — we keep the self at the center.
People who live this way often resemble indulged children: elated when gratified, discouraged or resentful when disappointed.
3. It leads to emotional instability
Extraordinary experiences are, by nature, short‑lived. When they fade, depression and doubt rush in. The soul that lives on sight instead of faith is vulnerable to extremes — joy followed by despair, confidence followed by fear.
4. True holiness requires surrender, not conditions
Sanctification means union with God’s will — having no will but his. But the person who says, “Do this for me, and then I’ll trust you,” is not surrendered. As long as we prescribe conditions to God, true holiness remains out of reach.
5. Faith does not exclude feeling — but it must come first
Faith is not emotionless. Feeling naturally flows from faith—but feeling that comes before faith, or independent of it, cannot be trusted. When faith leads, feeling follows in healthy, God‑given ways—sometimes joyful, sometimes sorrowful, but always marked by peace and balance.
A final word
Extraordinary experiences are not evil in themselves. When God gives them freely and unexpectedly, they are to be received with gratitude and humility. But they are God’s prerogative, not ours to demand.
As one wise writer put it: Christian perfection doesn’t consist in building a shelter on the mountain of rare spiritual sights. It consists in taking up the cross and following Christ — through humility, obedience, and trust — wherever he leads.
That is the life of faith.
This is a revision of Part 1, Chapter 11 of Thomas C. Upham's book The Interior or Hidden Life (2nd edition 1844), written with the assistance of Microslop CoPilot. The original chapter can be found here: Of a Life of special signs and manifestations, as compared with a Life of Faith.
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