Is Discouragement Pride in Disguise?

I recently read one of the most convicting things I’ve read in a long time. Maybe ever. It hit too close to home to be comfortable. It is a quote from Mother Teresa I’d never heard before, and it is this: 

“If you are discouraged, it is a sign of pride because it shows you trust in your own powers.” 

Ouch. 

My first thought was, “Wait, Mother Teresa? The saintly woman known for her humility and compassion? How can she say something so…harsh?” And then, the self-interrogation began. Because if I'm being honest, I've been feeling discouraged a lot lately. Not in a dramatic, "woe is me" kind of way, but in a quiet, simmering sense of overwhelm and inadequacy. My mind raced through all the times I’ve felt that heavy cloak of weariness, that nagging whisper of "you can't," that sense of being utterly stuck. Have all those moments, which felt so deeply personal and often like a testament to my own perceived failings, actually been rooted in something far different – something as insidious as pride?

And that’s where the “ouch” really dug in. If discouragement is a sign of pride, then what does that say about me? Am I really just so focused on my own capabilities (or lack thereof) that I’m missing the bigger picture? Am I forgetting that there’s a power far greater than my own at work in the world, and in my life? This isn't about beating myself up; it's about a fundamental shift in perspective. It's about questioning the subtle ways pride can masquerade as humility, and how our struggles often point back to where we're placing our trust.

It forces us to re-examine what discouragement truly is. Is it simply a natural human emotion, or can it, as Mother Teresa suggests, be a subtle indicator that we've inadvertently placed too much weight on our own shoulders, relying solely on our own strength to navigate life's complexities? In a world that constantly tells us to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, to be self-made, to hustle, it’s easy to internalize the belief that our success (or lack thereof) is solely dependent on our individual grit. But what if that belief, however well-intentioned, is precisely what leads us down the road to burnout and discouragement? What if true strength lies in acknowledging our limits and looking beyond ourselves?

“For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10).

St. Paul had an answer to discouragement. He knew that it is often our weakness that brings us to rely on God. And so maybe these periods serve a purpose after all. And the challenge is to see them as opportunities to rely on God, rather than be discouraged that things aren’t going the way we'd like.

So maybe my choice will also need to be to rest in God when I am tired (all the time) rather than trust in myself. Very countercultural, but I’m willing to try. It won't be easy, I know. My instincts, honed over years of self-reliance, will scream for me to push harder, to grit my teeth and just do more. But if Mother Teresa and St. Paul are right – and I think they are – then the true strength lies not in my own striving, but in leaning into a power far greater than my own. It forces a fundamental shift in how I view my own struggles. Instead of seeing discouragement as a personal failing or an insurmountable wall, what if I could embrace it as an invitation? An invitation to surrender, to trust, to loosen my grip on the illusion of control. It’s a profound thought, a dismantling of so much of what we're taught about strength. And while the "ouch" of that initial quote still stings a bit, it’s now accompanied by a glimmer of hope – a hope that in my weakness, there's a different kind of strength waiting to be found.