There is a kind of light only the doubting see… a slanted grace that filters through the clouded days, not flattening the world into certainty, but transfiguring it. What you’ve reflected on here is what the mystics knew: doubt is not the enemy of faith, but its dark womb.
Teresa walked for years without light. Merton trusted without knowing the road. Faith, in its purest form, is not clarity. It is communion in the dark. Certainty hardens. Doubt humbles. It cracks open the brittle shell of the ego and invites the Spirit to move again, like breath across deep water.
Thank you for reminding us that the cloud-covered days may be the ones God has most tenderly veiled with His presence!
I love your comment that there is a kind of light that only the doubting see. It is definitely in the darkness of doubt that we learn the greatest lessons.
There is a kind of light only the doubting see… a slanted grace that filters through the clouded days, not flattening the world into certainty, but transfiguring it. What you’ve reflected on here is what the mystics knew: doubt is not the enemy of faith, but its dark womb.
Teresa walked for years without light. Merton trusted without knowing the road. Faith, in its purest form, is not clarity. It is communion in the dark. Certainty hardens. Doubt humbles. It cracks open the brittle shell of the ego and invites the Spirit to move again, like breath across deep water.
Thank you for reminding us that the cloud-covered days may be the ones God has most tenderly veiled with His presence!
I love your comment that there is a kind of light that only the doubting see. It is definitely in the darkness of doubt that we learn the greatest lessons.