The Joy of Faith When Everything Else Has Failed (rewritten)

Jesus told his followers plainly: “In this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33) Experience confirms it. No one is exempt — not even the most devoted believers. The hardships God’s people face are not only external but internal as well. They include struggles of the mind alongside suffering of the body, and sometimes those struggles become overwhelming.

There are seasons when the usual comforts God allows us — often gently and generously — are stripped away. Health fades. Friends feel distant or unavailable. There is no pleasure in social life, no success in work, no relief from pressure or persecution, and no pause in the inward assaults of temptation.

Everything that normally offers encouragement seems to vanish at once.

There is good reason to believe that many souls whom God intends to purify deeply — especially those who resist his work and do not surrender easily — are asked to pass through trials of unusual weight and intensity. Not because such suffering is inherently necessary, but because of the condition of the human heart.

True inner purity requires the complete surrender of self. And that surrender is something our natural instincts fiercely resist. As a result, earthly joys are drained away, human supports are removed, and the axe is laid at the root of everything we rely on for self‑seeking and self‑satisfaction. This is how the soul comes to know the reality — and the cost — of being inwardly crucified.

In moments like these, when trials are both internal and external and seem to offer no relief, one thing remains: faith. Writers have called it by different names — simple faith, pure faith, naked faith — but they are pointing to the same reality. These expressions are fitting, because in these moments  faith stands alone. All other supports are gone.

Darkness presses in from every side. Discouragement feels complete. And yet, it is faith — and faith alone — that keeps the soul intact. In such seasons, faith rises to a place of leadership within the soul. It becomes the guiding center, the steady height from which all other faculties take their bearings.

The natural desires and affections are still under attack, often fiercely so. But they draw strength from the higher principle of faith, which stands firm at the center with quiet authority. From that position, faith gives the soul a defensive power that enables it not merely to survive but to overcome.

This leads to the central truth that deserves special emphasis: when every earthly comfort dries up, faith itself becomes a source of deep and steady consolation. This is often overlooked. Some assume that when outward supports disappear, nothing remains but emptiness. But that assumption misunderstands how God works within the soul.

There is, in fact, a joy that belongs to faith itself.

A life lived by faith may lack every external comfort, but it is not inwardly barren. It does not aim at consolation as its primary goal. Instead, it is marked by self‑sacrifice and a single desire for unity with God’s will. It focuses less on what God gives and more on who God is.

And when God himself becomes the soul’s focus, God becomes its joy.

The joy that arises in this way is pure, because it is free from self‑interest. Ask those who are sincerely placing everything on God’s altar — yet are still walking through profound inward and outward desolation — and they will tell you plainly that they are sustained by a real consolation. Even when all other sources run dry, the joy that flows from believing remains.

They may say it simply: “If I have nothing else, I still have the consolation of faith.” When every other fountain is closed, the joy of faith remains open.

This is one of faith’s unchanging characteristics, especially when faith has matured deeply: it always brings with it a quiet, pure, and lasting consolation — one that cannot be taken away, no matter what else is lost.

The soul is lifted, as though carried upward, into the safety of God’s presence. From that high place it rests calmly, bathed in a steady light of peace, while below it the valleys churn with darkness and storms.

This same kind of pure and elevated consolation was present in Christ himself. When his Father withdrew all sensible manifestations of love and left him in intense and unspeakable desolation, he still possessed the joy of faith. Even in the agony of apparent abandonment, the bond between them was not broken. He could still cling to that bond and say, with trust that endured beyond feeling:

“My God. My God.”

 

 

 

 

 

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This is a revision of Part 1, Chapter 18 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: On the Joy of Faith in the want and desolation of all things else.