Don’t you hate it when someone ruins the ending of the story? When there is a movie you have been dying to see and someone tells you their favorite part? And that favorite part just happens to be the entire climax of the film, so now you can’t watch it the same way, because you are trying to figure out how the main character ends up sky diving off the Eiffel Tower, even though it is clear from the start that she is afraid of heights? I hate that. But I think I am going to be that person—just this once, because I really, really do hate it when people do that!

I know there is a lot left to my story—like the entire plot—but I want to skip to the end first. I promise I will come back and go through the ups and downs, twists and turns, and fill in all the holes. But before I do that, I want to jump to the ending.

Another annoying thing is when someone doesn’t see the movie but thinks they know all about it. Maybe they say that they have seen a similar movie, so they can tell you what they think happens. They may say that you don’t even need to see the movie—they can just tell you what they think, or heard, or what they want you to believe about the movie that they have never even seen, and that should be good enough for you. Clearly, because they saw one movie that ends in Paris, they are now the expert on all movies that include the Eiffel Tower. Don’t get tricked! If this is a movie you are interested in, or has deeply affected someone you love, go ahead and see it for yourself.

I have heard plenty of people try to tell my story. They heard a story like mine, and think that gives them the right to make assumptions about mine. They don’t know the details, the characters, the emotions, or plot twists—they just heard part of the end and made assumptions for the rest. Some of these people even sound pretty intelligent or convincing. They act like they have some sort of divine insight into my life. But they are not the authors. They aren’t even the viewers. They have never come to me and listened. They have just hijacked a somewhat familiar-sounding story to convince you not to waste your time listening to mine.

By the way, you totally don’t have to listen to mine. Just don’t tell anyone that you have seen my movie if you never have. And now, with all this movie talk, I think I should probably charge admission. Oh, what? No one will pay if they can read it on line for free? Okay, fine. No charge.

So, to ruin my own ending and at the risk of everyone closing the book and saying they don’t need to see the rest, here it goes:

I left because I no longer believed the church was true.

I have heard so many reasons given for why someone, including myself, would leave the church. And before I left the church, I believed them. It wasn’t until I left that I realized I had been listening to people who did not know the story. See if any of these stories are familiar to you. None of them are mine—or anyone that I know, for that matter.

STORY #1

 She was not studying her scriptures or praying enough.

When I found myself in the middle of a faith crisis, I was as shocked as anyone. I was hurt when leaders or family would tell me that I just wasn’t studying enough, or with the right intentions. If you know me, you know how much I loved the scriptures and looked forward to hearing the apostles speak at General Conference. I felt ashamed that it was somehow my fault, even though most of my questions arose from attending the temple and reading my scriptures. I had always been promised that if I studied the scriptures I would find the answers, so, I searched for answers, spent nights on my knees in tears, hours in the temple, afternoons seeking counsel from bishops, and many days fasting. I am sure I prayed more earnestly about my doubts and fears than I did about any other choice in my life. With all my heart, I wanted the answers. I wanted a peaceful reassurance to stay in the church. But in the end, that is not the answer I received.

Story #2

 She was offended by someone at church.

This one would be laughable, except that people really do believe it. Since leaving the church, I have met a lot of other people who left, too. I have listened to their stories, seen them cry, and shared their heartache. Never once has anyone attributed leaving the church to being offended. If I were going to leave the church over being offended I would have done it years ago, like when the woman I served with decided to slander my name and spread rumors about me and I felt friendless and walked the halls of church alone; or the time I was gossiped about over the pulpit, even after I moved away; or maybe the time a bishop didn’t like what I said and told me if I didn’t do it his way, he would take away my Temple recommend. You read that correctly. This bishop was so angry that someone taught differently than he would have (by the way, what I taught was straight from the scriptures and the essays on LDS.org), he tried to manipulate me into teaching his way by threatening to take away my Temple recommend—as if my temple “worthiness” was determined by compliance to his wants.

Through all of those times and many others, I never once thought I would leave the church. I knew that the church was made up of ordinary, imperfect people. I was also aware that I was just an ordinary person, probably offending others in the church without even realizing, and I wasn’t going to let someone else determine my salvation. Those of us who loved the church would never leave it based on the offensive actions of another member.

Brief Intermission:  As I am writing this post, I realize how defensive it sounds.  JT keeps reminding me to not lose “my” voice—not just the “standing up for myself” voice, the unique, sometimes funny voice that says, “Oh yeah, Katie wrote this! I can tell by her delightful wit, her captivating storytelling, her brilliant sense of humor, and her vulnerable relatability. She deserves a Pulitzer for her amazingness, talent, and beauty!” Did I go too far? Anyway, as much as I am trying to keep my own voice, to not sound defensive, to not be boring or repetitive, I am also trying to show how hurtful these accusations are. Ok, the popcorn break is over, back to your seats, the regularly scheduled blog post will now continue.

Story #3

 She just wanted to sin.

 I am ashamed to say that I believed this one about other people. I remember friends struggling with the church and assuming it was because they were hiding some sin. Then, if they ended up leaving, I believed it was to continue to sin without guilt. Saying it out loud makes me realize how ridiculous that was.

Turns out, according to the New Testament, everyone sins. Everyone. So there is no point in leaving the church to sin. You can stay in the church and keep on sinning. In fact, it is just part of life. Everyone is doing it.

I always believed in repentance as well. I believed that I could sin and God would still love me. I believed I would be held accountable for my actions, but that it would never lessen God’s love for me or my worth. I never needed to hide my sins from God. Believing in the church, I didn’t want to sin. I wanted to do what I was taught. When I did make mistakes, I knew how to correct them. I never would have considered leaving the church because of those mistakes. With repentance, the love of God, and the knowledge that everyone sins, there was no need to leave it for sin.

Oh, and by the way, if you think that someone would leave to sin, you might reevaluate the purpose of church, and who can attend, and what God teaches about it. If you believe sinners need to leave, you don’t see the scriptures the same way I do.

I realize, now, that even “sin” is not as concrete as it may have once seemed. Each bishop had different ways of handling sin and repentance. Some were stricter, some were more lenient. Some put more emphasis on certain sins, while others let them slide. We called it Ecclesiastical Roulette—you never knew what you would get, but always hoped to end up in a ward with a merciful bishop. Also, what is considered a sin to a Mormon is not always a sin to another person, even another Christian. I know that there are people judging the choices I am making, and calling it sin. They think that now that I have left the church I have started sinning (or gone off the deep end) and to them it proves that I left it to sin. It hurts to see the disproportionate weight given to certain sins. Somehow, a lifetime of good can be outweighed by an iced vanilla latte.

My Story

There are probably a million other stories being told, other blanks being filled in, and movie ruiners who want to you to believe their version without finding out for yourself. If you know someone else who has left the church—someone who doesn’t spill their guts in a blog for everyone to read—you should ask them for their story. I think most of them would be happy to share the real reasons they left, and you may find it is not what you assumed.

Like I said, I promise to fill in the blanks, to show the process, to answer the questions. But first, I want to be very clear in spoiling the end.

I didn’t leave the church because I wasn’t reading my scriptures or going to the temple, or because I was offended by someone or some obscure doctrine, or because I believed that church is only for perfect people so I would need to leave it in order to justify drinking coffee and going shopping on Sundays.

I left the church because I no longer believed it was true.