Generally I want to use my blog to lighten up and laugh and
hopefully give others the same experience.
However I’ve had a quite a few friends and acquaintances in recent years
who have made the decision to leave the (Mormon) church. They’ve given their or, even more frequently,
other people’s accounts with which they agree of what is wrong with the church
and thus why they left, or stay not because they believe but so that they can
create change. Many of these accounts
are ones that resonate with me and describe processes with which I am
familiar. I remember what it was like to
go through these experiences feeling very alone. I’ve gone back and forth on sharing this because parts of it are extremely painful and intensely personal and I worry
that people will read it just to critique and criticize. Tearing yourself open for people to casually look inside is no small thing. And frankly I don't know that I want just anybody knowing these things about me. But I also worry that if the people who have
to fight for their testimony keep quiet that those starting the process of
doubt will continue to be alone. I had
no one to turn to. Maybe I experienced this
so that others wouldn’t have to be in that same situation. Just to make it clear this is not meant to
serve as a prototype of how all doubter stories do or should work. This is just what happened to me.
It
wasn’t until I was in my late 20’s that I started having doubts about
the church, but it wasn’t because I had grown up in a bubble which people or
events burst as I often hear other people describe. As a kid I was bullied so severely that the
school administrators called my parents and told them that our family would
have to move because they were afraid of what would happen to me if I stayed in
the area. Since this was in Utah the
same kids who were so vicious in school were also in my church classes and
Young Women organization. There was
literally no escape. Recent studies have
shown that the long term effects of bullying on children are actually worse
than those of being abused by an adult; the effects in my case were certainly
severe and extreme. I fell into a deep
depression and self-loathing that lasted for decades. Had it not been for an experience I’ll
discuss later I would certainly not have had the strength to keep fighting, and
nearly chose not to as it was. Over the
years, starting in my late adolescence, my depression became too severe even
for the hope of death to relieve. I
believed that I was so bad, so disgusting, so stupid, so wretched that there
was literally no hope of happiness or rest or peace for me in this life or the
next. I thought I was destined to hell,
not because of anything that I had done, but because of who, of what, I was. I castigated myself for every mistake and
sin. I loved my friends but was scared
of them, too. I was terrified of
rejection and so more and more held them at a distance. I failed in school because the bullies and
even some of my teachers had told me I was stupid, so what was the point of
trying? I say this only to show that,
again, my faith in the church wasn’t the result of having a comfortable life
which made faith easy. It was rather
because of that event I referred to earlier.
I won’t go into details, but I will say that during my 6th
grade year when the bullying had climaxed I had a pivotal spiritual experience
which would affect my whole life. From
it I knew with absolutely certainty that God was real, that Jesus was real and
was his son, and that they loved me, were aware of me, and felt the pain I was
going through even more deeply than I did, though that didn’t seem
possible. This is what kept me from finally giving in. This is what kept me
going when I was in abject despair for those many years, which even now is hard
to write about. In addition to this
during my teens my mother was mayor of our city. I was able to witness first hand at a young age the misogyny of many church members, and unethical practices
frequently used by some people who had callings of trust within the church. But I knew what I had experienced was true, and
I believed it had happened because of my faithfulness in the church, and so I
continued to believe the church was true.
Fast
forward about 15 years. I finished
school, got married and started my own family.
Faith was an essential part of who I was as a person. I could not forget and sought to be true to
my experience and how God had helped me.
Depression continued with me but it began in my early 20’s to ebb and
flow more, rather than the constant crushing weight it had been. Periods of normalcy began to be more
interspersed with the still debilitating and frequent periods of depression, the normalcy gradually became more regular.
With the help of my husband I also began to be less insecure about my
intelligence (or what I perceived as my lack thereof) and started learning more
and finding great fulfillment in it. I
began to feel that it was possible that I might have worth, though there were
still many sleepless nights of unspeakable agony. In my late 20’s, however, a storm hit. A devastating family tragedy occurred. During this time I experienced pain that I
didn’t know was even possible, even with my background. I prayed and prayed, I begged God that this
trial would pass. After all, Abraham had
not actually had to give Isaac. I heard
story after story of people telling of miracles that had happened as a result
of faith and prayer. Surely God would
answer the righteous prayer of my family and give us a miracle. He didn’t.
The trial came and ravaged and laid waste. Not the trial of a moment, but a trial of
years. I would sit in church and hear
people talk of their great faith that brought a miracle in their life. I would hear people talk about how they had
learned about forgiveness because of having to forgive what seemed to me some
slight offense that was more the result of thoughtlessness than malice. I heard about how if you just read your
scriptures and prayed and went to church everything would be ok and I WANTED TO
SCREAM. How could stories of forgiveness
of petty offenses help when I needed to know how to forgive monsters? How could stories of the greatness of faith
working miracles help when there was nothing I could do but to carry this
weight or be crushed under it? How could
such stories inspire when my voice was raw with pleading and my fingers ached
from clutching and my mind was numb from hurting?
At this
same time I also began to become aware of problematic issues in the
church. Feeling oppressed I began to be
see oppression elsewhere. As a woman I
had always been content with the female/male roles in the church but now I
began to feel resentment over it. Every
time I heard a man talk about how much more righteous women are than men my
chest constricted. If these men really
believed that wouldn’t our inspiration be given priority in our
stewardships? Wouldn’t we have an equal
voice? Wouldn’t the teachings and
examples of women be given weight and credence not only for the women but the
men as well? If we were so righteous why
would our leadership roles always be given with the caveat “under the direction
of the priesthood”, which always seemed to amount to “under the direction of
men”. Were we so untrustworthy that we
had to seek permission for everything we did?
That we had to be kept in line by a male who would serve as our
beneficent presider, always having the power to override anything we thought or
said without any room for discussion or appeal?
What happened to that innately angelic female righteousness we’d been
hearing so much about? The Temple, which
had once been a refuge, now only seemed to be a reminder of the submissive role
that women were expected to play to men.
Unfortunately I didn’t know anyone who had dealt with these issues who
could help me and so I turned to a place a friend told me about, a place where
people could openly discuss anything regarding the church free from
judgement. It was a Facebook group. At first I was dubious but when I tried it I
found it was an enormous relief. One
could discuss anything and everything and not have what seemed the heavy hand
of self-righteous, ignorant judgement hanging overhead. It was like finally being able to breathe
after being under water too long. Here
were people who understood. Who
sympathized. And if they told me more
things that challenged the church and its teachings it was because they wanted
me to know the truth. I had no reason to
doubt their motives or sources. It was
the church that had kept secrets. It was
the church that encouraged thoughtlessness and misogyny. I progressively saw myself and my “friends”
(people with whom my relationship was nothing more than a picture and words on
a screen) pitted against the “TBM’s” (a phrase used to refer to “traditional
believing Mormons”). The TBM’s were
always referred to dismissively. They
were clearly ignorant or brainwashed or stupid or malicious (depending) because
if they weren’t they obviously wouldn’t, couldn’t be TBM’s. We knew this because that was the case with
us. Though it could be conceded that many
of their motives might be pure they were still acting on erroneous assumptions
that were the result of tradition, not rational thought.
It felt
so good to belong to this group. It felt
good to be taken seriously and have my concerns taken seriously. It felt good to be asked to share, and not be
told “I don’t want to hear it” or “You should pray”, or “You don’t have faith”,
as if continuing on in the church when it was difficult didn’t take faith. In addition to the doubts, in addition to the
trials, I was also on my 4th year of suffering from postpartum
depression and two babies who screamed incessantly and rarely slept. My husband was stressed beyond belief by his
dissertation. I had a narcissistic
(though I didn’t know it at the time) neighbor who was emotionally bleeding me
dry. And through it all the only answer
that I seemed to get from God was that I had not yet given quite enough. My faith was shattered, my nerves were raw,
my heart was broken, and the heavens were silent.
After about
two years of this things came to a head.
It was the first time that I seriously began to question my place in the church. Many of the
Facebook group members were leaving and they seemed happy. Free.
Accepted and admired. I realized
I had 3 options before me: 1. I could leave the church, 2. I could stay in the
church and continue to be miserable, 3. I could choose to believe. And it would have to be a choice because
after months of praying there was still no spiritual confirmation. But I didn’t want to leave the church, and
not just because of tradition. When I
looked about me there was no other organization which offered what Mormonism
offers. Other religions preached of a
God who eternally punished people, even babies, for not believing in something
they’d never been taught. How could I
trade the God of Section 76 for such a God?
Nor could I give up on the hope of a God constituted of both a father
and a mother. Nor could I forget the
times that I had been moved by the spirit to do things that had made a
difference in people’s lives, been taught things by the spirit that I knew,
even then, came from God. Most people I
knew were taking the “spirituality without religion” approach, picking the
doctrines they liked and leaving the rest.
But I began to see on the internet how progressively those who defended
a traditional view of the church were dismissed, patronized, even attacked for
what they said. It seemed to me that
many of the people who left the church were doing the same things as what they
were accusing the church of doing. I
even saw one post where a man was rather brutally criticized for saying that he
though the church buildings were beautiful.
I saw attacks, dismissals, and, perhaps worst of all, patronization
under the appearance of a guiding patience.
Obviously this was not always the case.
But it wasn’t always the case that the church acted like this, either. In fact, what I realized was that many of the
real flaws and criticisms people had with the church were the exact same
problems found among those outside it, whether in a religion or not. They were human error and I began to see that
some of those things would simply be universal and would be found no matter
where I turned. I saw people picking and
choosing who they did and did not have to listen to, just like they accused
TBMs of doing. If I walked away from
religious organization I could certainly surround myself (at least virtually)
with people who agree with me, but at what cost? What would happen to me if I surrounded
myself only with people who agreed with me, at least on the things that
mattered to me? In church I may not always
be understood, and relationships could be
extremely challenging, but wasn’t that what the higher law was about? Loving enemies, forgiving people who hurt
you, seeing God in people you don’t like or get along with or understand and
who reciprocate those feelings? Being
forced to be confronted with the fact that the universe does not exist to make
you feel important? Organized religion,
particularly Mormonism with its lay clergy and geographically created wards,
forces us to break out of ourselves. Would it be
possible to categorically push away all challenging, disagreeable people and
not become an egotist? In my case I
didn’t think so. Plus the fact that,
while many members of my ward may not have agreed with me on many issues, they
loved me. They took care of me. When Johnny was born they brought meals every
other day for 3 weeks! I never asked for
that. It was just done. They had never shown me anything but love and
friendship and acceptance. Was I really any
wiser than them? Could I honestly
believe that they deserved my contempt?
And, most of all, they were physically present. They weren’t words on a screen which could
turn on and off according to how fulfilled the writer felt by our relationship
at the moment. We worked together,
worshiped together, fed and shared with one another spiritually and
physically. They were kind to me. Many of them loved me and even if they didn’t
I owed them something. They were my
family, not because I had chosen them or they me, but because sometimes family is
simply the people you can serve.
One day
while I was on the internet people began to critique the testimonies from
they had heard. The greatest
criticism was how many people got up to say that they “knew” God and the
church, etc. were true when obviously (so said the critics) they didn’t because
they couldn’t possibly. This was a
serious jolt to me. There was much I didn't know, but I did know that God and Jesus were
real. I knew. What would have been said of my testimony? Would people have sat back in their pew and
smiled expressively, quietly posting on Facebook how I served as further
evidence of the thoughtlessness, the brainwashing amongst church members? Not knowing my history and experiences would
they yet honestly feel themselves in a position to judge whether or not I knew
what I was talking about? They would
because they did, and so, I realized to my horror, did I. How long had the lack of evidence been
presented as evidence? Was it
reasonable, was it even rational, to suppose that because one person doesn’t
know something no one can? I began to
realize that, far from using the critical thinking I had begun to so pride
myself on, I had been largely impractical and irresponsible in my
reasoning. It had never occurred to me
to check the sources that were being cited or the people citing them. Were they reliable? What were their biases? I had no idea. That is not to say that there weren’t real,
valid points being made, some of which were very disquieting and needed to be
considered and used to adjust previous erroneous assumptions. But what reliable historian or critical
thinker categorically accepts one viewpoint and is categorically suspicious of
the other? If I wrote a paper on the
destruction of Carthage and only presented the Roman viewpoint as valid,
discounting the Carthaginian one on the grounds that their loss made them
biased, I would be laughed to scorn. But
wasn’t I doing just that? Holding one
group under suspicion while giving the other my absolute faith? To read what Joseph Smith’s detractors said
but to ignore what Joseph Smith himself said is hardly good research. Critical thinking does not only require
questioning what you think you know, it requires that sources must be held to
the same exacting standards and they must be studied with balanced
fairness. What kind of critical thinking
determines the validity of an argument based solely on whether or not the
hearer has ever experienced it? Lack of
evidence is not evidence and such thinking prevents invention and discovery,
including spiritual discovery.
I
realized that if I was going to know whether or not the Gospel was true I was
going to know for myself. Not because
someone told me something. Not because
of my feelings at the moment. I was
going to objectively know. But I also
realized that the only way to do that was in staying in the church. The Mormon Church, with all its flaws and
issues, still offered far more and far better things than anything or anyone
else I had heard and it seemed to me that if it’s claims were true that other
than the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ The Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter Day Saints would be the most magnificent, the most wondrous, the most
marvelous phenomenon in the history of the world. And I realized that not knowing whether it
was true was not sufficient reason for me to give it up. I couldn’t give up unless I knew it wasn’t true and I didn’t know
that. I wondered, I worried, I
suspected, but I didn’t know or even yet believe it wasn’t true. I didn’t stop studying the issues but I tried
to be responsible in my research, holding all sources to the same standards,
and giving fairness to both. I realized
that the Joseph Smith that I had read about online and the Joseph Smith who
wrote the Doctrine and Covenants could not have been the same man. Clearly Joseph Smith was a man plagued by
weaknesses and sins and humanity; that I have found. But I also found something else. When I tested the fruit of his teachings-
reading the scriptures and testing what they said, going to the Temple along
with doing an in depth historical study of its ancient and modern history, I
found something. Something that spoke to
me in the deepest recesses of my being.
Something which I couldn’t yet hear or understand but which was
unequivocally there. Not peace, not yet.
Something deeper than peace.
Something
in my mind and spirit began to stir. I
was starting with, if not a bare, at least a razed foundation, trying to keep
my mind open to what I would find and how it could change me. But I also chose to believe. I had to know and I couldn’t know the church
was true without having faith in it any more than I could get on an airplane
without having faith it wouldn’t crash-there might be discomfort and concern
and fear, but the belief it will work has to at least be enough to override the
fear it might not or you can’t, or worse won’t, try. Without faith there is no trying, without
trying there is no discovery, and without discovery there is no knowledge.
This
experience and the people I have met along the way, in and out of the church,
in person and online, have given me great gifts. The knowledge that I know nothing but that I
don’t have to stay that way. The
knowledge that Mormonism is a much bigger spectrum than I had thought. The knowledge that I need other people’s
experiences to gain understanding and compassion and humility and growth. The knowledge that while everyone has
something to give people are worth knowing and loving and listening to for
their own sake and not just what they can offer you. The knowledge that to
doubt and question is to grow and learn. I learned that by
not putting my greatest resources into the people physically around me and
trying my best to turn those into working, meaningful relationships I was
becoming proud, cynical and arrogant, and needed to gain the humility that can
only come from relationships that you can’t turn off. I needed to invest time in people who I couldn’t
pick and choose. I needed to really
listen to my neighbors, not just hear so I could critique and report. As I’ve done so I’ve realized that there is
no such thing as a TBM. That people are
surprising and profound in ways that can’t be touched on the surface or even
just beneath the surface. You have to go
down deep in ways that take time and effort and risk. In ways that can’t be known on a computer
screen. This experiment has been going
on for over 5 years now. I still struggle. I am still seeking. But I have come to know this: I know that what is promised in the prophets and the
scriptures and Temple regarding receiving revelation from God is true. I know that by following the gospel teachings
I have been able to commune with God. I
have had my heart and mind open to things I would never have dreamed
possible. That knowledge and those
experiences that I have had have come directly from following the teachings of
the Mormon Church. I have found peace
and meaning and beauty in the frustration that comes from belonging to a church
made up of fallible, sinful, excruciatingly erring people of which I am one and
I have seen in glimpses how God sees his children and it has taken my breath
away and left me in shocked wonder. I
have seen how God suffers from the choices of his children and yet how he loves
them. Jesus was given so we could hear
the Gospel of repentance and forgiveness and love. The church is given so we can live it. These things I know and am determined to know
more because I know I can know more. I
can’t know God and truth and gospel second hand, thank God, because such can
only be known first hand. And I can
tell you this, it can be known first
hand. God can be known, not as an
indescribable, unattainable, unfathomable entity; but as a father, as a mother,
as a creator, as a friend. This is the
gift of God. This is the gift of the
church. And this is why I stay.