Thursday, September 27, 2007

"Come Be My Light"


Ever since the announcement of the newest book chronicling the missionary-time of Mother Teresa's life, based upon newly published correspondences between herself and her confessors and friends, controversy has flared up.

Skeptics and those eager to knockdown anything claiming to have religious integrity have pounced upon this publication, believing it affirms the idea that someone regarded as the holiest of holy on earth was, at the least, plagued by doubts, and at the worst, a faithless hypocrite. So-called moderate voices attempt to applaud her honest doubting, yet they still cannot resist highlighting her statements about darkness, emptiness, the absence of God, her lack of faith, etc.

Catholics, naturally, have rallied to her defense. They claim that, at the least, this affirms that even the best of believers have times of doubting and, at best, it indicates a high level of spirituality, since only the holiest of holy saints have experienced this "dark night of the soul."

I knew at once that I had to read the book for myself. Though I'm Protestant, I know that Mother Teresa stands as an icon of spirituality and is referenced as the representative of Christian integrity, regardless of one's denomination or particular Christian affliliation. In short, what knocks her down, knocks down all of us who call ourselves "Christian." Also, as a New Testament Professor, I know that I might be asked about Mother Teresa and perhaps about this book in particular.

So I began to read it with an open mind and with my discernment radar up and running. I would be willing to fully accept a genuinely pious and righteous Mother Teresa, or a hypocrite compensating for a lack of relationship with God by doing "good works" as Roman Catholic theology teaches. I was less looking for "Catholicisms" as indications for the presence or lack of a genuine faith in and love for Jesus Christ. I was aware that I might encounter heresies and would evaluate them accordingly.

By page 30 or so, I immediately knew what my view of Mother Teresa would be: one of the most amazing, spiritual, godly Christians who'd ever lived, period.

Here's the skinny of her story: Mother Teresa received audible (to her) revelations from Jesus Christ who urged/ commanded her to start her Missionaries of Charity ministry in India. These conversations were recorded in large part in this book. She took great comfort in receiving this "Voice" of God to her; the Voice was strong, persistent, and very much from God. But when she finally embarked on the Charity work, the Voice stopped and never returned. This threw Mother Teresa for a loop.

Even worse: God not only withdrew his active Voice but cut off Mother Teresa from enjoying the normal spiritual experiences of being a Christian, ones she enjoyed for decades prior to her Charity work. For over 35 years, then, she experienced little actual experience with God: no sense of God's presence, no sense of answered prayer, no sense of joy, peace, love, warmth, satisfaction, etc. that most believers take for granted. Yet during this period, she had unwavering faith, obedience, and love for God. There is zero evidence that this withdrawal of blessings/ experiences was the result of sin, disobedience, hypocrisy, demonic influence, or any other thing.

So what happened? Mother Teresa herself concluded that God wanted to bring her so low--as low as any human being could possibly be brought low--because (1) She was already the lowest of the low, and God was just showing her who she really was, (2) God was granting her the blessing of experiencing what Christ experienced on the cross when he was separated from God in bearing the sins of the world, (3) God was making her experience the depths of inner suffering, pain, emptiness, and loss, as this was the daily experience of all of the poorest poor to whom she was ministering, and (4) God was testing her faith, to see if she would follow even if granted no tangible spiritual benefit.

I have no doubts she was right on all counts. I see her life as the spiritual equivalent of Job's testing. God tested Job by outwardly or circumstantially afflicting him: taking away his family, his wealth, his comfort, and his health. All to see if he would have faith without outward, material benefit, and even more than the lack of benefit, the presence of suffering. Job passed the test, though in the expression of his want for God's relief, he said less-than-perfect things to God.

God tested Mother Teresa by inwardly or spiritually afflicting her: taking away all spiritual benefits experienced daily by all true Christians: the daily presence of God, assurance of salvation, answered prayer, peace in the heart, etc. At the end of her life, she passed the test, though in the expression of her want for God's presence, she said less-than-perfect things to God.

If you're a believer, imagine if God took away the experience of every spiritual benefit in this lifetime. Imagine that you FELT like a non-believer though God expected you to obey and trust him regardless. That was Mother Teresa's cross to bear. I had a moment once in my life where I was so distressed and so depressed, for a moment I felt like was a non-believer (since I remember what that felt like). I was empty, hollow, and felt like my life was meaningless. It was frightening. Mine was caused by circumstances and lasted barely a few hours. Mother Teresa endured over 35 years of that and all because God made her experience it not because of anything she did.

Mind-blowing.

Mother Teresa often compared her darkness-experience with that of Jesus on the cross especially when he shouted, "My God, my God, why have your forsaken me?" Interestingly, this is a quote from Psalm 22 (something, I don't recall Mother Teresa ever made connection with), where David is crying out to God in distress over the circumstances of his trials. Yet even as David seemed to be losing faith, the Psalm ends with a strong affirmation of faith in a great God. Mother Teresa's writings reflect the same. At one point, she may say, "God is far from me--I have no faith." Then later in the same letter, she will affirm, "I will continue to trust in Him."

These are not the honest confessions of a hypocrite, a sham-saint pretending to be holy. This is the painful experience of a believer stripped of all spiritual comfort and experience in this life, and then asked to something that few if no other ever has: walk COMPLETELY by faith. Every time she condemns her own faith, it's because her faith is so strong. Only the strong in faith are so critical of their own faith and see it as small if not non-existent faith. Only the righteous see their best acts as "rubbish" in the eyes of God (while the most unholy boast loudly of their tainted "good works").

Colossians 3:3 says of believers, "For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God." There's an impenetrable glass ceiling that any non-believer--even the most experienced unbelieving Bible scholar--bumps up against when exploring the Christian faith. Our lives are "hidden" with Christ in both the sense of being "secured" away from any wishing to tamper with it and at the same time "invisible" to eyes trying to see it.

Without a doubt, many non-believers will completely miss the point when reading "Come Be My Light." And this is no surprise. We ought to expect no less. Each waylaid criticism only affirms the reality of their separation from the true life of God in Christ. Rather than making us defensive, however, it should spur us to want them to know of that life in Christ.

And undoubtedly, many believers will miss the point, too. For the kingdom of God is well-populated with shallow believers and infantile Christians (many who are convinced they are among the most mature and righteous). Their lack of understanding will show their true colors as well. Rather than shaking our heads at them, however, it should spur us to want them to know the depths of the true Christian faith.

Books like this one may cause someone to ask, "Do you think you will see Mother Teresa in heaven?"

To this my answer is plain: "No. Not because she's not in heaven (nor that I wouldn't be, for that matter), but because she will be so close to the Throne of God, so beloved and intimate in the glory of God, and I will be so far from such a privilege, happy just to be on the fringes of the heavenly kingdom, that, no, I probably won't see her."

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