Barneyisfat

I think there must be a tremendous sadness in being a saint.

After the SS arrested Casper ten Boom they decided that he was too old - they would prefer he died in his own bed than have an extra body to dispose of. One soldier said, that he was quite old and asked, if they let him go, if he would behave. He responded, "If I go home today, tomorrow I will open my door to anyone who knocks for help."

And this is the Casper ten Boom we have heard about - this is the old grandfatherly man we know and love from his daughter's book, The Hiding Place. But what about the Casper of doubt? What about the man who spent hours wrestling with the idea of turning the jews over to the authorities and protecting his family. Why don't we read about the man who felt like a failure because the jews he was protecting never fully accepted the Christian faith?

As a struggling Christian, it's easy to look to the great men and women of the faith as examples. When my doubts are heavier than my faith - I can idolize the faith of men and women like those found in the ten Boom family. But what do you do when you are the saint? When you are seen as the spiritual giant, what do you do with your doubts, your temptations, your sins, and your failures?

How sad must it be to realize the depth of your own doubt, frustration, sin, and laziness and then to realize that you're probably it. You are probably as faithful as anyone else. What pain must belong in the knowledge that after you are gone, people will remember your name - that you lived for Christ so poorly that people will remember you first and then Christ; that people will make you an idol.

What a sad life Mother Theresa and John Paul II must have led - living with the full knowledge that this is probably it - this is probably the extent to which the frail human form can live fully for God.