And I’m not saying that just because she mentions me.

No, The Anchoress, with her usual laser-beam insight, has summed up beautifully what it means to believe, and to doubt:

For those who have given it all, have allowed themselves to be used up until they literally have nothing left to give, it seems to me that such dark nights would be unavoidable. I think our human capacity to love can only take us so far, and when we have reached the point where our love for God exceeds our ability to actually feel and comprehend and identify “love” – that’s when these saints see desperate days. My guess is they have simply transcended where human love can take them, but haven’t the tools to fully know “divine” love, and so they’re trapped in something unidentifiable and unknown – a place where they simply have to go on faith. If we learn in 10 years that John Paul II went through exactly the same sort of emptiness and darkness, I will not be surprised at all. In fact, I expect to hear exactly that.

And as for Teresa’s “shocking” letters, I anticipate finding within them a great deal of comfort. And in her carrying on and carrying forth – even through her trials and excruciating sense of loss – I expect I’ll find evidence of the workings of grace and sanctity. As Fr. James Martin writes in the New York Times, “…to conclude that Mother Teresa was a crypto-atheist is to misread both the woman and the experience that she was forced to undergo.”

Indeed. “My God, My God, why have you abandoned me” is not the cry of the atheist; it is the cry of the psalmist and the Christ. It is the cry of the believer.

Thee is much more there, quoting everthing from the Song of Songs, to the two other great Theresas — the one from Avila, and the one from Lisieux.

In fact, there is so much food for thought in her post, you might want to go back for seconds.