“I don’t know” might be one of the hardest things to say.

While in the church, I believed we had “the fullness of the gospel”. Which came with answers to most questions pertaining to our salvation. I often used the words “I know” to describe something I believed in. And it was rare that I ended a discussion with “I don’t know”. In fact, when someone asked me a question and I didn’t know the answer, I would usually say “I don’t know, but let me find out”. Like most latter-day saints, I felt uncomfortable leaving a question unanswered. Especially if I thought the answer could be found in the scriptures.

Of course, some questions were easy to leave open. “Will we have pets in heaven?” never felt that important to me, so I didn’t care if I knew the answer.  But there were many other questions that were always unsettling for me.

Questions like:

“Why couldn’t black people (specifically anyone of African descent) have the priesthood until the late 70’s?” I was never satisfied with the answers given for that question. The church’s essay about it only added more confusion and upset.   And I always hated the counsel to not worry about it, it will be taken care of in the next life.

Speaking of the next life; “What happens to the people who are LGBTQ  in the next life?” Do they magically turn straight? But what if they love their orientation, and heaven would feel like hell without it? With so many people struggling with this question, I hoped for more revelation and clarity.

“Why can’t women hold the priesthood in the same way as men?” I have heard lots of false, and often offensive speculation about the priesthood. But that is all it ever was; speculation. (This was actually a shelf breaker for me. When Riley asked this question, I realized that I didn’t have an answer for something so basic and so foundational in the doctrine. It was the first time I felt sad and upset about the priesthood.)

In the church, I had to accept that certain questions will not be answered.  And there wasn’t anything I could do about it, except come up with my own assumptions based on the answers I desired.  I had to learn to say “I don’t know”.

Back when I lived in Washington, I was at the park with some good friends, discussing some of my concerns and doubts. The conversation got pretty heated. (Remember the post about how protective we are of our beliefs? And how we may take other people’s doubts personally.) At one point, a friend who was getting frustrated with my arguments about doctrine finally said “Then why don’t you just leave the church already?!” I was shocked. At that point, it still hadn’t even occurred to me to leave. And I never thought a member of the church would be upset enough to tell me to leave it. The question hit me with such force. And the only answer I had was “I don’t know where else to go. I don’t want to leave the church until I know where I am going next.”

I found myself faced with a whole new set of “I don’t know” questions.

Would I be able to find a Christian church that I could believe in? The flaws in mainstream Christianity were always a hot topic in Mormonism. And some of the doctrines that Joseph Smith added made the Biblical teachings seem more palatable.  Without those additions, would I find peace in regular Christianity? And if Mormonism isn’t true, does that mean the possibility that something else entirely could be true? Like Islam or Buddhism? Roughly 70% of the world is not even Christian, could my being Mormon/Christian have more to do with where I was born than actual truthfulness?

My head spun with new questions about religion in general. There were times it seemed too overwhelming, so I just kept going to church and stuffed all of my doubts back on the shelf and wedged the door closed behind them.

Inevitably, the doubts resurfaced and the shelves began to break. Leaving the church became a consideration. I then had to face other demanding questions that I had never before considered. Like “What about my kids?” “How will I raise them without the Gospel?” Since it had always been taught that true happiness can only be found in Mormonism, it brought a lot of fear to the idea of raising kids without it. Could I raise them throughout adolescence without a crew of youth group leaders? How would I teach and enforce morals? Is it possible to be happy without Mormonism? What about the rules? Do I keep the familiar Mormon rules or make my own? Would I actually leave the church? The questions terrified me, and left me feeling alone. They all seemed to culminate in just one huge question: “where will I go?” I believed I couldn’t answer any of the other difficult questions if I didn’t at least know where I was going after the church. That question haunted and paralyzed me for at least two years.

But then I remembered the many Mormon questions that ended with “I don’t know”. I realized I didn’t have all of the answers in the church, maybe I didn’t need all of the answers to leave the church. I looked to the people I love and respect that are not part of the church, I asked questions, I found some answers. I prayed for strength. And soon,  “Where will I go?” wasn’t a question riddled with fear and confusion. It was a question filled with hope, choices, and a new awakening.

Last year there was a general conference talk entitled “Where will you go?” Friends were posting it all over Facebook and it triggered those disabling fears. I knew there were people listening who felt how I had once felt, that you couldn’t possibly go anywhere else if you couldn’t answer that question. I worried about friends possibly hearing those words and feeling trapped. The way I had felt paralyzed only one year before. But other friends, who had been brave enough to leave the church, were posting light-hearted memes on Facebook with the question “Where will you go?” and all of the new possibilities open to them. Usually it was something funny like Starbucks, or even Vegas. One was just a picture of a hammock on a Sunday afternoon.  While none of those were the actual reasons we chose to leave the church, they were a way for us to say “I may not know exactly where I am going, I just know I can’t stay here.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There used to be a fine line between blessings and curses. And I never knew which one I was receiving or why. When bad things happened to good people it was called a trial. But if the same thing happened to someone making different choices, it was a consequence, or even punishment. I felt like God was always waiting for me to choose good- so that I could go up the ladder, or waiting for me to choose wrong- to slide me back to the bottom. It felt almost superstitious. I heard talks in church, where people talked about not having enough money, until they paid their tithing, then suddenly having enough. (I may have even given that talk once or twice.) Or people who didn’t go to church one Sunday and were in a bad car accident, which wouldn’t have happened if they had been at church. As a missionary, it was always about exact obedience, and when anything went wrong- obedience was the first thing questioned. I struggled with hard times, wondering if it was a trial or punishment. I thought of the pride cycle in the Book of Mormon and how the Nephites were blessed for their righteousness and the Lamanites were cursed for their wickedness. And when my prayers weren’t answered, just like a missionary, I questioned my obedience. Soon, I saw a God who was dangling carrots in front of everyone. Happiness, blessings, money, and salvation were within reach, if you obeyed every commandment. I felt I had no control other than to be as perfect as possible, and hope for the best.

I was taught that only people who lived the LDS gospel could feel true joy. Sure, other people could have temporary happiness and pleasure, but that was different from the peace and joy of “living the gospel”. Whenever I noticed someone clearly not living their church covenants, but appearing to be blessed and happy, I believed that it was fleeting. And yet I was confused as I looked around. I saw non-members that seemed genuinely happy, being blessed, content, and successful. But somewhere underneath, I thought there had to be a catch. They had to know they were missing something. I also saw active members who struggled, and seemed unhappy. How were unrighteous people going up the ladder and seemingly righteous people continuously on the slide down? As youth, we memorized the scripture in Doctrine and Covenants

20 There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—

21 And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated.

That states that any blessing from God is in return for obedience to a particular law or commandment. That seemed to mean that all blessings came in correlation to my actions. But it made no sense when I looked around and saw financial blessings going to people who didn’t pay tithing. Or financial ruin coming to those that did pay their tithing. Or good health going to people who smoked, and cancer to people who followed the word of wisdom. The answer was that everything would be worked out in the next life. But it never reassured me.

It was always a struggle for me to try to be obedient enough to get the blessings that I wanted. Often, when I fell short, I worried about what blessings I was missing, or what condemnation was headed my way.

I have a PG-13 story that illustrates this. So, if you are uncomfortable with PG-13 and maybe a little TMI (too much information), please, skip ahead.

A few years ago, JT and I went to Puerto Rico for a little getaway. JT served his mission there, and loves the island and the culture. It was an amazing trip. (And if anyone wants to go, I will happily volunteer to be your tour guide.) At one point, we were basking in the sunshine, sitting by the pool, and overlooking the beautiful blue ocean, when I noticed the bartender making a Pina Colada. That is a weak spot for me.  And I sort of fell apart. I told JT how I have always wanted to drink Pina Coladas in the sun, by the pool. How I feel shame every time people at church claim that Mormons aren’t “tempted” by alcohol because “we keep the Word of Wisdom”. (Someday I will write a post about WoW, and maybe include the time I tallied up every time it was referenced, and for 3 Sundays straight it was referenced more than Christ! But that’s a post for another day.) These comments made me feel like the only weak one who was “tempted”. And knowing how Mormons look down on alcohol, I felt ashamed even admitting it. I think I even cried. I was so embarrassed to tell my Peter Priesthood husband that I was tempted by the thing that Mormons hated most. But JT just smiled (and this is a testament to what a great guy he is…. Or how it is all his fault that we fell down the slippery slope to hell) and said “Then you should have one”. I couldn’t believe my ears. I thought he would sooner divorce me than see me drink alcohol. He told me he didn’t think I needed to feel this shame, and self-loathing over a drink. So, he bought me a Pina Colada by the pool.

Here comes the PG-13, you can still look away and skip ahead.

Back to the story; I have my Pina Colada by the pool, with my sweet, understanding husband, and it was fabulous. We stayed by the pool, had lunch, and then decided to go jump some waves.  We were having fun swimming in the warm ocean and being in love like honeymooners. That’s when I got the idea that it would be fun to ”fool around” in the ocean. (Remember, we are in paradise, on vacation without kids, far from home and reality, on a lover’s getaway. C’mon, you know you would have thought about doing it in the ocean!)  So, while submerged under water, I slip off my tankini bottoms to let JT know what I am thinking. The next thing you know, a giant wave hits us and knocks us both completely over.  After tumbling along the bottom of the ocean, I realize I am no longer holding onto my bottoms. We search the nearby waters, but they are nowhere to be found. My swim suit was lost at sea. Now, the problem was getting back to the hotel. (This does not further the moral of the story in any way, it is just funny to picture.) JT heads back to the resort to grab some towels to cover me up and I wait out in the water.  I am out there trying not to go too deep because the waves are so strong. But every time I get closer to the shore, the water recedes and I have to dive for cover.  The whole thing was pretty hilarious. Luckily the beach was mostly empty (except for some workers setting up a wedding and the guests starting to arrive). And I am sure no one even noticed (that’s what I tell myself, while still waiting for incriminating pictures to be posted somewhere online).

After JT brought my towel, and we searched the beach one more time for my bottoms I began to cry. I was wearing my favorite swimsuit, and now it was gone. I told JT how I knew I was being punished for drinking the Pina Colada. And how this was like the people who skipped church and got in a car accident.  I was so mad at myself. I pictured a God that was shaking his head in disappointment as he watched me reaching for the carrot, but falling short. JT was still appreciating the humor of the whole thing, and tried to remind me it wasn’t God. He pointed out that, to be honest, I would probably have dropped my drawers with or without a Pina Colada. It wasn’t the alcohol- it was just me having fun and being goofy. It wasn’t an angry God punishing me, it was the waves of the ocean.  That was the day I realized I was afraid of the Sunday School Lesson God that I didn’t trust.

Now, I know someone is dying to use this story in Sunday School to scare the kids out of drinking alcohol (or having sex). And it will probably work. It is the perfect story of God smiting someone for disobeying.  But now, in my narrative, it is the funny story of a fearless girl on vacation with the guy she loves. And the moral is: Things happen, God is not waiting around to punish or bless me based on my performance.  And, also, don’t wear your favorite suit in the ocean.

The PG-13 stuff is over, it’s safe to read now.  (But message me for the R rated version. 😉 )

I can already see the comments for this blog. With people feeling sorry for me, that I misunderstood the point of the Sunday School Lesson and the nature of God. That they have never felt like that. I know that people will want to tell me that I have it wrong.  But I am aware that I had it wrong.  I don’t believe in that kind of God.  But sitting through talks and lessons that emphasized that type of God, only brought me sorrow and frustration.

I understand that there are natural consequences for our actions. If I don’t exercise, I won’t be healthy. If I study, I will do better on a test. If I take off my swim suit in an ocean, it will get swept away. None of these are affected by reading my scriptures more, or going to church each Sunday. There isn’t a carrot dangling deity baiting me on. With that knowledge, I am able to make decisions based on facts not fears. I don’t worry that my trials are punishment, or believe my victories are earned through obedience.

So yeah, you may see me drink a Pina Colada and hop back in the ocean with JT, but this time I will make sure I am not wearing my favorite suit.