“cause in this life, things are much harder than in the afterworld”

A year or so ago my friend’s beloved dad became ill and died pretty suddenly. She emailed a few friends asking for help with this blow to her struggling faith, wondering if she would see him again. She asked us how do we “know” that we will see loved ones again.

I ran across the email I wrote to her and thought it was time I plagiarized myself for a blog post. Just some thoughts I have had over the years that echo close to home lately as some of my friends have decided to leave our church. Being truly “in” the Mormon church is not just a religion and not just a community or even just a lifestyle. It’s a life. It’s a connection that runs pretty deep. So when friends flounder in it or leave it, those of us who still believe mourn that loss, that connection that once existed. We notice acutely the gap left by their departure.

But at the same time, it’s not like just because I believe or because I’m still here, that I feel like I am stronger or better. More committed to my faith, yes, but not even fully that. It’s a disconnect, a following of separate paths. Maybe the paths intersect sometimes over the years, maybe often. Maybe they run perpendicular, away from or towards, or maybe parallel at times, maybe even close enough to talk or to touch. But it’s not the same. The thing is, believers walk that line too, of wondering and struggling. At least: I do.

Anyway so here were my thoughts for my friend who lost her dad too soon and wondered if and how her faith could help her loss.

2016

Every day it feels like I get closer to losing my parents and I am not ready for that. I try not to think about it too much, because if I do, it seems impossible that we live so far away.

To answer your question, I do not know. I have wrestled with my faith for the last several years. I have had highs and lows. I felt like I "knew" in the past. But when I was younger I "knew" a lot of stuff and as I've gotten older I've realized I pretty much know nothing. 

I've naturally become more agnostic with age, but I have still always felt a deep desire to believe something and to connect with the infinite, and I continue to pursue that, within the context of my upbringing in the LDS church and my belief that it's as good a church as any (or better) and that I'm happier when I pray and read the Book of Mormon and serve each day, and when I go to the temple somewhat regularly and try to follow the laws of obedience and sacrifice that we learn there. 

I just am happier overall even in the context of my struggles. And life seems more clear. But I am talking about a struggle that has lasted years and will probably continue to last my whole life, with highs and lows. Similar to my struggle with anxiety and depression (which I did not always have) I feel like my struggles with faith are a burden for me that I have accepted, rather than trying to fight.

The analogy about the fetus in the womb not knowing any facts about life after birth has always spoken to me. Basically, the fetus knows there is probably something else besides itself (i.e., its mother's body and the world outside) because it can sense it--light, voices, pressure, warmth. But it doesn't know how or when or if it will ever experience that outside world.

I feel the same way about life after death. I feel like when I am trying my hardest to understand, I get glimpses that carry me through. One of my favorite stories is the prophet Enos whose soul hungered and who prayed all day and night. I feel like Enos sometimes. I try to follow that hunger and remember. It is not easy.

Two of my favorite talks from recent years about sharing our struggles with each other and accepting doubt as part of life:

“Returning to Faith”

“Choose the Light”

I hope this helps. It's the best I have for you, for now.

Love,

Eliza