Do you ever feel like this?"I call, I cling, I want ... and there is no One to answer ... no One on Whom I can cling ... no, No One. Alone ... Where is my Faith ... even deep down right in there is nothing, but emptiness & darkness ... My God ... how painful is this unknown pain ... I have no Faith ... I dare not utter the words & thoughts that crowd in my heart ... & make me suffer untold agony.
"So many unanswered questions live within me afraid to uncover them ... because of the blasphemy ... If there be God ... please forgive me ... When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives & hurt my very soul. I am told God loves me ... and yet the reality of darkness & coldness & emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul." (Mother Theresa of Calcutta)
I do. And there's no shortage of anxiety that comes with feeling that way.
3 comments:
Hi,
I do, too, though I would not readily stand in front of the congregation and declare it. I have had many moments of Mother Theresa type despair. In fact, when I first read those statements in a TIme magazine article, I found a quite place and wept. If someone so dedicated to the principles of Christianity could feel so absolutely alone and uncertain of the very existence of God, then perhaps I wasn't a freak of Christian nature after all. God does much that I do not agree with. At times it seems as if He doesn't exist at all and the aloneness I feel is like a dark abyss I can't escape. I wonder if freewill wasn't such a good idea. It seems to tie God's hands to the point of appearing helpless or nonexistent. That's my perspective anyway from my frail, limited view of things. I suppose it could be said that my problem is that I think too much about life. Perhaps if I just smiled and bit into the Evangelical glazed donuts of "God is good all the time," then I could blissfully trip along into eternity without questioning anything...ever.
Cheers,
Wyatt
Wow ... I love the raw honesty of her thoughts. And I'm surprised at the same time. Mother Theresa, the saint, expressing such profound pain and loneliness.
I used to think -- used to believe -- that if you kept "busy" for the Lord that that would fill whatever emptiness there might be -- whatever unfulfilled longing that might remain unexpressed.
Don't her words epitomize "deep calling out to deep"?
There is such a churning of emotion here. But those same emotions connect our hearts to God and enable us to love and serve and worship with our lives.
Who dares express such thoughts now? Would she have been disqualified from leadership? Imagine that -- the woman who constantly, selflessly gave herself away for others being disqualified from leadership because, God forbid, she dared to express even the thought that she might not "feel" that God loved her or to say "I have no faith".
I love her honesty. I feel connected with her now in a way I never really could have before. I know that all of her questions have been answered now.
Perhaps people will be more likely to believe the message of our hearts, the hope that is within us, if we are vulnerable enough to show them where we are like them.
Sometimes I think we get caught up in arrogant pretense (not anyone here, of course) ... but I know I have done that unknowingly, and I hope I will never do that again.
I'm sure that these words endeared her even more to those who already thought she was a saint.
We are all saints, I know, but somehow she seemed more of a saint.
I'm rambling.
I can only imagine that having these thoughts brought her to a valley of despair, but I know that where there is a valley, there is a mountain.
J
One more thought before I nod off: Speaking of vulnerability, I will share a vulnerable thought.
I have always been somewhat intimidated when men speak about women who are beautiful.
But I have always thought of Mother of Theresa as a woman of great beauty.
I just realized that now.
What makes us beautiful in the eyes of God.
I believe that in these moments of despair and doubt that she was more beautiful than ever.
That thought brings me great comfort and joy.
What does my Father see when He looks at me?
I love how He answers that question.
J
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