Doubt and Mother Teresa

Mother Teresa was one of the most influential Christian leaders of the last century. Yet, she wielded very little power, led no great crusades, and avoided speaking in public. Her example was that of a simple, devoted woman of God. It is little wonder that, when her personal letters were published, a faith that was often deeply troubled was revealed. Doubt and the apparent "Silence of God" are chronic problems in a Christian's walk, but I find her example well worth the examination.

“Ask Jesus not to allow me to refuse Him anything, however small,” she wrote. Later adding that she would rather die than decline to act on the least of Jesus’ wishes.  Yet, she was continually tormented by doubts,

Lord my God, who am I that You should forsake me? The child of your love—and now become as the most hated one—the one You have thrown away as unwanted—unloved. I call, I cling, I want—no, No One.—Alone. The darkness is so dark—and I am alone.—Unwanted, forsaken.—The loneliness of the heart that wants love is unbearable.—Where is my faith?—even deep down, right in, there is nothing but emptiness & darkness.—My God—how painful is this unknown pain. Pains without ceasing.—I have no faith.—I dare not utter words & thoughts that crowd in my heart—& make me suffer untold agony. So many unanswered questions live within me—I am afraid to uncover them—because the blasphemy—If there be God,—please forgive me.—Trust that all will end in Heaven with Jesus.—When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven—there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives & hurt my soul.—Love—the word—it brings nothing.  

The pain of hell, Teresa mused later, is the pain of separation from God. Citizens of Hell could cheerfully endure their pain if they had hope of God’s reprieve, yet there would be none. In her doubt, this was her state of mind: she believed that God had turned His back on her and that she was no longer wanted by God. God, as it were, disappeared. And if God were dead to her, then Jesus was dead. If Jesus was dead Love was dead, and, if Love were dead, her continued work was meaningless. Through it all, she endured that pain, quietly, humbling doing the work she knew was required of her. “I beg You only one thing—“ she asked at the depth of her personal Hell, “please do not take the trouble to return soon.—I am ready to wait for You for all eternity.”  In time, she was reminded of St. Paul’s word to the Colossians: “Who now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh for his body's sake, which is the church.”  She began to love the pain and doubt, the darkness and pain of separation from God, until, paradoxically, she could claim: “The greater the pain and darker the darkness the sweeter will by my smile at God.”