In the darkness . . .
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—and there is no One to answer—no One on Whom I can cling—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 and darkness—My God—how painful is this unknown pain. It pains without ceasing—I have no Faith—I dare not utter the words and thoughts that crowd in my heart—and make me suffer untold agony. So many unanswered questions live within me—I am afraid to uncover them—because of 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 and hurt my very soul.—Love—the word—it brings nothing—I am told God loves me—and yet the reality of darkness and coldness and emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul. Before the work started—There was so much union—love—faith—trust—prayer—sacrifice. Did I make the mistake in surrendering blindly o the Call of the Sacred Heart? The work is not a doubt—because I am convinced that it is His not mine—I don’t feel—not even a single simple thought or temptation enters my heart to claim anything in the work.
The whole time Smiling—Sisters and people pass such remarks—They think my faith, trust and love are filling my very being and that the intimacy with God and union to His will must be absorbing my heart—Could they but know—and how my cheerfulness is the cloak by which I cover the emptiness and misery.
In spite of all—this darkness and emptiness is not as painful as the longing for God—the contradiction I fear will unbalance me—What are You doing My God to one so small? When You asked to imprint Your Passion on my heart—Is this the answer?
If this brings You glory, if You get a drop of joy from this—If souls are brought to You—If my suffering satiates Your Thirst—Here I am Lord, with joy I accept all to the end of life—and I will smile at Your Hidden Face—always.
|| Mother Teresa, Come Be My Light: The Private Writings of the Saint of Calcutta