A collection of private letters she addressed to her spiritual guides has surfaced, disclosing the fact that behind her saintly public persona Mother Teresa was a tortured soul for the last half century of her life. Contrary to the world’s perceptions of her, she wrestled with deep doubts of God and was tormented by long-term spiritual dryness.
“When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven,” she writes with unveiled honesty, “there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives and hurt my very soul.—I am told God loves me—and yet the reality of darkness and coldness and emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul.”
Although these revelations are shocking and will alter the public’s perceptions of her, I find it hard to imagine Mother Teresa sailing through life on a spiritual high when she daily faced an ocean of misery and was fighting a losing battle against poverty and human suffering.
Oddly enough, Teresa’s despair reminds me of Naomi, a woman whose story I’ve been pouring over for months. I can easily imagine Naomi writing the words like those found in Teresa’s letters. After watching her whole world swept away without a flicker of interference from God, despite her desperate cries for help, Naomi felt the darkness of soul Teresa describes. “The LORD’s hand has gone out against me,” Naomi lamented. “I went away full, but the LORD has brought me back empty. . . The LORD has afflicted me; the Almighty has brought misfortune upon me” (Ruth 1:13, 21).
Some might feel inclined to criticize Mother Teresa, after all, it seems difficult to reconcile her pious image with the soul-starved wasteland she lived in for so many years. Historically, we’ve been very hard on Naomi—calling her a bitter, complaining old woman, without investing much effort in attempts to comprehend what it was like to walk in her sandals. Yet in recent years Naomi’s image has undergone something of a transformation, and she has emerged with greater credibility as a female Job. The parallels between the two sufferers are striking and this fact alone revolutionizes our understanding of the book of Ruth.
Reading about Mother Teresa’s confessions in Time and contemplating Naomi’s story (which has been in the public domain for centuries) made me think seriously about finding a better place to stash my journals. But at another level, I find these unsettling disclosures about both women strangely reassuring.
We may, like Mother Teresa, put on a brave face before others. But behind closed doors we all struggle to trust God. We all wrestle with discouragement and doubt, while at the same time struggling to put one foot in front of the other and inch forward in obedience to God. This is the path of faith, not of unbelief.
But the disturbing revelations about Teresa and Naomi also bring awareness to me that the dry, empty, dark stretches I experience are an important part of my journey with God. God does His deepest work in me when I am troubled, hurting and confused. At these low points He is my focus and I know beyond a doubt that I desperately need him.
What is more, the struggles of these two women give me hope that God can and will work through me to advance His Kingdom, even when I’m spiritually depleted and He seems so distant to me. It is a marvel of God’s grace and power that the doubting, faltering Mother Teresa found the stamina and courage to persevere in ministry against hopeless odds. Her humble ministry of mercy ultimately caught the attention (and earned the respect) of the entire world and inspired others to follow her example.
It makes me smile to think that Naomi, in her darkest hour, was God’s chosen evangelist to reel Ruth into the Kingdom, and that He was recruiting the broken-down Naomi for a strategic mission to fortify the spiritual backbone of the royal line of Jesus. The darkness that engulfs the soul of God’s child doesn’t limit and may even be vital to what He will do through us. According to Paul, God’s power shines brightest in us when we are at our weakest (2 Corinthians 12:9).
I still may bury (or destroy) my journals. But in the meantime, I am comforted to know that those painful and despairing entries I have written (and those I will yet write on the blank pages in my journal) are not signs of spiritual failure or God’s abandonment, but indications that He is here and He is at work.
“Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you”
Dear Carolyn,>Thank you for a peak into your journal as you reflect on the expose of Mother Theresa. We do have a great cloud of witnesses surrounding us as we walk through the valleys of the shadow of death…and in the deserts that have been transformed into a forest. We are not alone. >Thanks for being there too!>I do hope this is sent on to Time Magazine. Please do. Just an excerpt from your blog would give many readers a reason to pause…and put their stones down.>Meg
It is really sad and unfortunate how very often we, Christians as well as non-believers, want to cast stones! I do hope you would have part of your blog sent to TIME!>Many years ago, I did have my journals destroyed for fear of privacy invasion. Afterwards I regretted much about it. Yet reading your blog uplifts me! I’ll no more regret! >Suffering does refine a soul, even though we don’t appreciate or understand it at the moment. Your reflections on Naomi, Ruth and Boaz in conjunction with Mother Teresa confirms the providence and sovereignty of our loving and mighty Lord. It is most encouraging. Thanks!
I am learning, little by little, that when we reach for stones to throw at others we claim to know too much about their souls and are guilty of knowing too little of our own. At least, that seems to be what Jesus was saying to those who were ready to stone the woman caught in adultery.>>The agonizing path that bears the footprints of Mother Teresa and Naomi (and our footprints too) is one that tears away all of our props and ultimately leads us to utter reliance on Jesus alone.>>Thank you for your thoughtful comments.>>Carolyn
“Those who believe they believe in God, but without passion in the heart, without anguish of mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, and even at times without despair, believe only in the idea of God, and not in God Himself.”>>-Miguel de Unamuno, >Spanish essayist and philosopher
Just a thought: While it is “normal” to want to hide what hurts or what we’re ashamed of, when we are transparent about our sins and shortcomings and continue on to tell of Christ’s sufficiency in our weakness, He gets the glory.>It’s against the darkest, blackest sky that the stars are the most brilliant.