But some of you may not share my opinion, thus sparking debate. Sometimes I like debate. But this is something that's really connecting with me right now ... and do I want to hear all of the brilliantly worded opinions and intellectual responses? I haven't decided yet.
So I will post my thoughts. We'll see what happens.
The book is "Come Be My Light" - an unexpected Christmas present. It is by Mother Teresa, in that it is mainly her letters and writings to her spiritual directors (i.e. those who functioned as her priests or pastors while she was ministering in Calcutta).
I thought it would be about her work. It is not. It is about her relationship with God, which was deeply personal, private and precious to her. She had a love for Jesus that I have rarely heard articulated with so much passion and feeling. And yet ... she spent years, unable to feel the presence of God, even for a moment. Years, praying prayers that seemed to go nowhere. Years, telling others about the love of God, while unable to find it herself. Years wondering if she had been rejected by God, even while she introduced others to Him. Years of spiritual suffering, all the while holding absolutely, unshakeably to her faith.
Some have apparently said that this book is terrible, because it shows that she didn't know God at all. I could not disagree more strongly. It is an incredible picture of a woman who started with all the feelings and comfort of the presence of God, and who was called to a tremendous work to the poorest of the poor. And then it is an incredible picture of a woman who lost her sense of the presence of God, and yet never questioned His existence, or His call on her life. That might just be the strongest picture of faith I have ever seen.
In my evangelical, pentecostal, charismatic, whatever-label-you-like tradition - there really isn't much room for a story like hers. We don't like suffering. We like "abundant life" and "joy unspeakable" and that kind of thing. I am grateful for that.
But Mother Teresa came to understand that God was allowing her to identify with those to whom she was ministering - those whose entire lives were loveless, joyless, hopeless, full of rejection. And that by identifying with them, she could help them connect with God.
I think her Catholic tradition allowed room for suffering, and soul-darkness, and faith-without-feelings. Her spiritual directors could not always help her, but they could remind her of the mystics of the past who had written of experiences like these.
And amazingly, she did not doubt. She believed, and she smiled through her grief, always. She had given her life to Jesus, and He was entirely free to do what He liked with it.
I am humbled by her story.
