Originally Posted by
Pompey Bum
But let me give you an example of how doubt that is not self-righteous can work. In my opinion (to be honest rather than boastful) I am more faithful than most men I know of my age. My greatest moments of doubt come with the death of those I love, especially if the death was horrible to them. My low point was 26 years ago, when my Mom died in a lot of pain. Afterwards, for a time, my faith took a vacation. Because my faith is a real thing for me (as opposed to a "Oh gee, wouldn't that be nice!" kind of thing), it is either really there or it really isn't. And It REALLY wasn't. That wasn't a choice or reaction: it was just as a fact. My Mom was gone forever, and I knew it, and it was just the most obvious fact in the world.
In terms of my faith, it was like being paralyzed at the waist and trying to move my legs. There just wasn't a lot to be said about it. But there was no sense of: "Oh God, how I've suffered, and you don't know the half of it, so just don't you talk to me about God's existence, because I'm in pain. So there!" It wasn't like that at all--despite the dumb *ss clergy who had been trained to tell me that it was (and who really just didn't know what the hell else to say). So okay, maybe I was being my usual arrogant self (clergy ARE dumb), but there was nothing self-righteous about it. It was really just me being honest about how I felt.
Feeling that way didn't last forever, thank God. But those days were brought back to me last week when something upsetting happened. Without going into the whole story, I had a very close friend--almost a second father--who was about 80 then; and we had a mutual friend, the daughter of an adult friend, who was a 15 year old Chinese girl. We taught her English and western culture, which she loved; and we all sort of loved each other. So then she got sick and died of a childhood cancer in fairly short order. That was a few years ago, and I've since returned to the States to look after my own aging father. Last week I found out that my old friend had just died, too. I was sad at first, then thought the (gratuitous?) struck me:.Maybe L--- was waiting for him when he got to Paradise. Right away I was struck with the old paralysis: "What kind of stories are you telling yourself, boy, so you can feel better about L---'s horror and T--'s death?" It was the exact same gone forever feeling as before. It stayed with me for a few days, until I managed to cry. Then it left.