I believe in God and the after life, even though I have more questions about both. I’ve rejected a lot of the metaphors used to describe Christianity as self contradictory but I still believe in the reality they inadequately try to portray.
A cancer diagnosis is like being told there’s a cliff paralleling the path you’re on. At some points they are very close together. You could fall off or you could travel for miles. When I look toward the cliff—in the far distance of my current perspective—I don’t expect it to drop off into oblivion or perdition. I think there’s another realm of existence beyond the edge.
I’m not ready to fall off the cliff—not today—but I’m not afraid of it.
I still have no sense of the nearness of God in all this. He has been silent for a long time, or speaking a language I don’t understand. He could talk to my soul or my mind or my emotions, or all three. I think I’m open but that doesn’t mean I am. Self deception is part of the human condition. I do expect some spiritual insight to come from this physical ailment. That’s where I’ve set my gaze for now, the spiritual horizon.
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“Narrow are the powers that are spread through the body, and many are the miseries that burst in, blunting thought. Men behold in their span but a little part of life—then, swift to die, are carried off and fly away like smoke, persuaded of one thing only: that which each has chanced on as they are driven every way. Who, then, boasts that he has found the whole?” – Empedocles