Mother Teresa once wrote, “There is such a terrible darkness within me, as if everything was dead. It has been like this more or less from the time I started the work.”
It’s hard to imagine that a woman who became the hands and feet of Christ, found herself walking through a spiritual desert for 50 years. She lived with an aching sense of abandonment and sometimes even doubted God’s existence. But despite feeling so unseen by God, she never let her darkness spill onto others. And she never stopped looking for Him. Mother Teresa refused to make her private cross someone else’s burden. She just continued smiling, serving, and radiating light in the same darkness that tried to overcome her. I was usually the opposite. I remember growing up, whenever I had the flu or a cold, the whole household usually knew about it.
My mom used to say, “A parent is only as happy as their saddest child.” And looking back, I can see how true that was. Every little complaint I made growing up added weight to my parents’ shoulders. I wasn’t trying to make their lives harder. But I also wasn’t considering that they were already carrying their own crosses. And every time I offloaded my stress, even just a tiny bit, I was unknowingly adding to theirs.
Mother Teresa had learned that suffering can transform you, but you get to decide whether it turns you into a martyr or just someone who really likes to vent (me). So, I started experimenting with talking to Jesus for a few minutes before picking up my phone to call someone and let out my feelings. And when I really took the time to do it, it was always enough to calm my heart. I started to realize that real healing came from handing it over to Christ, and He carries it way better than anyone else.
I worked on imagining Jesus sitting in front of me. There were so many moments where I could really feel Him leaning into me, inches from my face. We were looking at eachother. And I suddenly lost the urge to vent or receive any kind of explanation for my struggles. When I was finding His eyes first, everything in my world started to lose its urgency.
Imagine if Jesus told His suffering the way we are often tempted to tell ours. “You will not believe what they did to me. First of all, Judas… backstabber. And Peter? Completely denied even knowing me. And don’t even get me started on the Pharisees. … All mockery, spit, and a crown of thorns. Unreal.” Of course, He didn’t say it that way. If Jesus were to recount His Passion, I imagine He would say something like, “Yes, they hurt me and mocked me. But that wasn’t the point. The point was love. And the point was forgiveness. I chose to endure it all, because I knew that beyond the suffering there was resurrection.” If that was how He told His story, why would we tell ours any differently? No one escapes suffering. Every single person you meet, at some point, will have their heart and future plans wrecked. But our suffering stories are meant to be about the Healer.
Imagine someone walking away after talking to you and thinking, If she can still smile and cling to Jesus through that storm, maybe I can too. But in order to be convincing of that, you need to stay convinced yourself. You need to seek Him as a habit every day. Find His eyes and sit in His presence. Fill yourself so deeply with His truth that when someone else is drowning, you have more to offer than just recycled self-help advice. You will have the Lord’s love, His words, and His eyes. If your perseverance in your darkest times helps even one person cling to Christ in theirs, then every moment was worth it.
