Dear Mormon and LDS friends,
I feel a need to write something here. It's been a while since I have had any substantive communication with you. I want you all to know that from my perspective, I'm doing okay. Although I have a great deal of fatigue, that seems to be the greatest side effect of my ongoing chemotherapy. I have recently completed a course of radiation therapy for a mass in my right lung. We shall know in a few weeks whether that therapy was successful in shrinking the mass. Also, being a cancer victim has some perks! It's not all bleak! I've played the cancer card at least a couple of times to some hilarious, sardonic results. I mean to say by this, I'm not bitter or angry, but I continue to have a very, very wicked sense of humor. Oops.
Physically, I'm fine. Mentally, I'm often fogged up with the fatigue. Spiritually, I'm changing in ways that surprise me. When I came back to the LDS church, I knew that some things in my life would change. My God is a low-impact God, so I didn't expect the changes to be much, and they weren't. Gradually, I've come back to truly appreciate the unique faith and doctrine of the LDS/Mormon community, whether active, ex- or post-mo. The Mormon itch is hard to scratch. It keeps coming back to me, and I'm truly happy that it remains with me. I feel at home here.
So last summer, I bicycled across a good part of Europe. I came home, and within months I was diagnosed with an aggressive pancreatic tumor. I went through a major (horrible) operation, and I've continued on through chemo and radiation therapies. In that last sentence, my world turned on its head. I didn't feel angry or too upset about the cancer – after all, none of us make it out of life alive. But I was brought short up against my own mortality. I had never had to consider it before. And now I do.
Initially, I had some pretty grim nights. I would be awake, sometimes in pain, but more than that, painfully alone. My friends from all sides were cheering for me, praying for me, even delivering meals to me, but I was alone with this cancer thing. I could hardly bring myself to bring this up with God, more so because in my head, I doubt. My heart, though, longed to have that conversation, so in the middle of several nights, snoozing on the couch in the living room, I began to talk with God, and those conversations have continued.
I cannot bring myself to believe that my prayers about being completely healed and restored to health will be answered in the affirmative. However, I urge you and all my friends to pray for that. Because I have discovered that prayer makes a difference in my life. It feeds my spirit. It grants me peace. It fills my life with a simple grace. Maybe that is healing enough. Because of these conversations with God, I've come to understand in my situation, that God doesn't necessarily remove the obstacles, the pain, the scans that indicate things are not good. But I feel God with me during my bleak moments. When I am down and out, I feel God beside, lifting any burden I carry, and sharing it.
So now onto some theological speculations (I love being a Mormon, because we have so much on which to speculate!). I believe in Original Sin. I don't know whether it came through Adam, but mortality does make me broken. Even if I didn't have some mad cells growing within my pancreas and lungs, I would still be just as broken. I think the brokenness arises from my need to be in control. It really is an illusion. I discovered that the moment I discovered my mortality. I'm no long in control. Happily (and sadly), when I see Jesus on the Cross, Broken, I know that he knows mortality, that God knows my mortality. My mortality and end now seem much less a big deal. I'm not worried about the outcome. Whether I die next week (I won't), or live another twenty years, I have felt such relief knowing that I don't have to worry about the outcome.
One of the weirder doctrines that Mormons have that other Christians quell about is eternal progression. I think it is a grand doctrine. I'm all for it. Although you wouldn't know it (because much in the LDS church seems Evangelicalized), the Mormon faith offers universal salvation, except to those four people (whoever they are) who are the Sons of Perdition. If you add universal salvation to eternal progression, you arrive at just about the grandest eschatology of any faith. I believe we are all part of exaltation, that it never ceases, and that we all participate here and hereafter in the continuing creation and salvation of our physical and spiritual heirs. Whether it is manifested in the Big Bang, or told in Genesis and the book of Moses, we are part of a much larger picture than the personal lives we lead, our personal cares, our personal demises.
I mean, I don't even really believe this stuff, but it is so big, and sprawly, and messy, and fraught with hope, tinged with loss and despair, redeemed in the grit, blood, fortune, and light of our personal lives, that in my heart, I'm giving it a shot. For me it is worth living for. And when I die, God has already assured me that I don't have to worry about the details. So whatever is over there, I'm totally game.
I love you all. I'll write another epistle later. I thank all of you for bearing me up in what is sometimes a difficult situation. You all inspire me with your stories. I just want to say AMEN to all of you. I stand on your shoulders, and I appreciate the view from here.
Love, John
