“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.

 

Even in Seattle, where we are “used to” the rain, it could still be depressing. Some days I loved the rain. The smell of fresh rain always brought a sense of newness, refreshing, and life-giving.  In Washington we knew that the winter rains would bring beautiful spring tulips and daffodils, and keep our grass and forests verdant year round. But sometimes, after a particularly rainy week, the clouds seemed to just bring darkness. Blocked from sunlight, it was isolating and dreary.

The first week of November 2012 was one of those sunless, tiresome weeks. My mind and heart were already heavy, and the rain wasn’t helping. I was struggling with the upcoming election and Washington’s vote on Gay Marriage. I was still very active at church, even though the doubts I had were deepening. But I was confused about the church’s stance on Gay Marriage. The church had been actively involved in the California campaign for Proposition 8. I remember talking to people who spent Wednesday night activities going door to door. I knew of the money that was donated, the hours spent by the members to campaign, and the urging from church leaders to support the cause.  That was just 4 years prior. But now that we faced a similar ballot in Washington, we heard nothing. Had the church changed their stance? Why weren’t we being asked to mobilize against gay marriage? Don’t get me wrong, the last thing I wanted to do was knock on doors (I did that for 18 months on a mission, which was more than enough for a life time) and ask people to vote against it. And why was the church so against it in the first place? I knew the church’s views on marriage, but I had always been taught about free agency. It didn’t make sense to me that we would be against gay rights. After all, it was their agency to choose whom to marry, just like it was my agency to marry J.T.  I was torn. And just like the dark rain clouds outside, I felt heavy and burdened.

When I was brave enough to share my doubts, I was directed back to The Family Proclamation: “Marriage between a man and woman is ordained of God”. I knew that was the belief for the Temple (although the wording might be better “between a man and a woman, and another woman if he chooses”) but did that have anything to do with legal marriage? The vote wasn’t whether it was “ordained of God” but if it was their legal right to equality in marriage. It just didn’t feel right to deny that. I was just as confused as ever. Then I was told the story that was once shared by Marion G. Romney where he was told “always keep your eye on the President of the Church and if he ever tells you to do anything, and it is wrong, and you do it, the Lord will bless you for it.” So there I was, staring at my ballot. Feeling like opposing gay marriage was morally wrong. But knowing that the prophet had spoken against it, and knowing that if I ignored my conscience and “followed the prophet” I would be blessed.

It was pouring down rain, and time was running out. I knew I needed to take my ballot in before the poles closed. I pulled on my rain coat and loaded three small children into the car.  It’s funny how time can slow down and imprint on our mind in moments like this. I remember that night so vividly. I remember how dark it felt as I was driving to Maple Valley, where the closest Elementary School was open late to accept ballots. I remember my kids asking where we were going, and I was trying to explain freedom, voting, presidential elections, and gay marriage in a way that 3 children under 6 could understand. I am pretty sure I trailed off into my thoughts, hoping they wouldn’t interrupt the silence.  I pulled into the parking lot and followed the winding line of tail lights. I was relieved when I saw that there were volunteers outside in plastic ponchos and excited smiles. They carried the ballot boxes right up to the cars. I looked back at my exhausted children, grateful that I didn’t need to go through the ordeal of unbuckling and trudging through the downpour to cast my vote. I slipped the envelope into the box, and looked up at the volunteer holding it. A terrible guilt swept over me as we made eye contact.

When I drove out of the parking lot, onto the highway, I was overcome with emotion. I pulled my car quickly off onto the muddy shoulder, laid my head down on the steering wheel, and broke down in tears.  I remember Blake’s little voice asking what was wrong. He has always had a tender heart.  How could I tell my children what I had done?? That I had just voted against my conscience, because I felt like my church wanted me to. Even 4 years later, I am filled with shame just writing about that night. Sharing my cowardice with all of you brings it all rushing back. Those thick clouds seem to be hovering over me now, I can smell the rain, and feel the oppression of the darkness.

After the tears stopped, I drove quietly home, with my kids falling asleep in the back seat. The one redeeming hope that lifted me up, was the fact that I was in Washington, a beautifully blue state. I knew that the other voters would compensate for my weakness. I knew that mine was a small drop in the bucket. I knew that overall my opposing vote was probably meaningless, except for the pain it was causing me.

When I woke up the next morning the state was already celebrating it’s victory. Happiness filled my soul as I watched people on the news hugging and crying with joy. I felt like an imposter, secretly celebrating with them, even though I had just voted against it.  Overnight, Washington state changed, and so did I.

I knew that what President Romney taught was false. I could no longer believe that God would bless me for following a prophet even if he was wrong. Why would God give me a conscience, my own ability to discern right and wrong, and then tell me to ignore it in favor of a prophet? Later on, I found out that some members of the church did, in fact, vote for gay marriage. I was shocked at their ability to hear the teachings from the church and make their own defiant decision! I don’t actually think they were being defiant. I think they just had a better sense of truth. They had an ability to trust themselves, in a way that I never did. It had never even occurred to me. The church had always been so black and white. It was true or false. It was right or wrong. It was follow the prophet or follow satan.  It was exact obedience. What was this new gray zone? And could I find peace there?

From that moment, I knew that if God ever asked me to choose between a prophet and my conscience again, next time, I would make the right choice.

 

(since I know we all love references, this is the talk from Pres. Romney)

I feel like there is a little frame work I should set up before we get started. Just so we can all start out on the same page. So, let’s start with the most offensive phrase in the English language “No offense…”. What about “Don’t take it personally”, is that any better? No, same affect?

Even just hearing the phrase “Don’t take is personally” makes me want to take whatever is said next very personally.  I can’t help it! And it doesn’t help that I already think everything is about me, so of course it must be personal.  But it doesn’t have to be.

As I have said before, it is not easy to leave the church. But I also recognize it is not easy to watch someone leave the church. I know that it is difficult for the family and friends to see their loved ones walk away. It can be heart breaking, I remember how it feels.

If you are raised in the church, it is part of your identity, long before you even know you have an identity. We sing songs like “I hope they call me on a mission” and “I belong to the church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints” and “I am a child of God”.  We grow up knowing that Sundays are just for church, even if you see your neighbors playing outside.  We have pictures of the Temple in our homes, and an expectation that we will be married there (long before we even think about getting married- this was a hard one for my son even as a 6-year-old).  We pay tithing on our allowance, we wake up early to go to Seminary, and laugh at inside jokes about dating at BYU.  Being Mormon is also just being alive. As a child, there is no separation.

For many members of the church, myself included, it becomes your life. You plan on serving a mission, where you dedicate years of your life to converting others. While on your mission you eat, sleep, and drink the religion. Then you hope to get into a church school, and if not, you attend Institute and Young Adult activities in your area so that you can marry a fellow latter day saint. After a while, you may find that you mostly have things in common with other Mormons. Your ward becomes your family, and fulfills your social and spiritual needs. You no longer have time for as many things that aren’t related to church. You start to see yourself as worthy and good, based on things like your Temple Recommend or your calling. You may also see yourself as weak, unworthy, or unlovable based on your failings in the church.  Soon, how you feel about yourself, your family, and even your success in life, may be connected to your ability to believe and live your religion. And eventually Mormonism isn’t just something you believe, it is something you are.

Then a friend begins to question the things they have thought were true their whole life. They begin to notice things that bother them, that leave them uneasy and unhappy.  They realize that maybe the church is not what they thought it was. Or maybe they don’t agree with the things being taught. They may even completely hate some of the doctrine and the culture.  And they may decide that they don’t want to participate in the church. Chances are, facing those doubts is terrifying for them. They may decide that it is too painful to try to stay active when it goes against their conscience and their new beliefs. They may leave the church.

The hard thing now, for the person who still loves the church and all it teaches, is to be able to accept the choices and changes in this friend.  For your whole life there has been no separation between you and your religion. You are one and the same.  You see them reject the church and you may feel like they are rejecting you. Not just as something you believe, we all have people who disagree with us from time to time. No, it feels like a rejection of who you are.  They are rejecting your faith, your happiness, your decisions, your life.  You may even feel attacked, even though no one is attacking you. I know, they may be attacking something that you believe in, but they are not attacking you.

I have been on both sides of this scenario. I remember feeling threatened and sad when someone I cared about left the church. Like it was a statement against me. (And remember? I think everything is about me.) I felt the need to strengthen my defenses and double down on what I knew. I worried about their salvation, and struggled to understand their new choices. I sometimes felt like I was being mocked by their leaving. (Truth be told, some may be mocking you, but again, that is a statement about them- not you. And those that are mocking you aren’t the ones we are talking about here. The ones that have been your friends and who love you will always love you.) I felt insecure and attacked, because I couldn’t see where I ended and the church began. To leave the church was to leave me.

But when I decided to leave it had nothing to do with you.  It was not a reflection of how I feel about you. It is not a statement on who you are. It doesn’t have to change our relationship. If anything, now that I have left, and found more peace and happiness, we might be able to have a stronger relationship.  It is kind of like how I love Thai food, and you hate it.  Thai food is what you hate, not me. Just because I love Thai food, and can rave about curry and phad thai all day long doesn’t make me Thai food. So, you can still love me. And we can choose to eat at different restaurants. Then, when we get together we can go out for pizza. Because it is something we have both always loved. And in the end, we aren’t there to eat, we are there to be together.

Many of my relationships have been strengthened in the time since I left the church. It has been extremely fulfilling for me.  Most of those relationships have been enhanced by the basic principles of love and acceptance. Through listening, understanding, asking questions, and patience. I have also lost people that I loved because of leaving the church. And that is sad. But either way, I hope that the people I love know that I don’t see them as their religion. I see them for who they are, and that’s why I love them. And I hope they can do the same. That’s why I sincerely hope that while I share my story, we can all feel loved, accepted and not take it personally.

 

As most of you know, by now, my family has chosen to leave the LDS church. This was not a decision we took lightly. In fact, I gave more thought to this decision than any other I have made in my life.  If you are not LDS, you may not understand the significance of that choice, or why it would affect me so much. I hope that this Blog will help you understand. If you are LDS you may understand the significance, but not realize what it was like for us to make that choice.

Over the past year I have settled into my decision and my new lifestyle.  The 2 years before that were a real struggle for me, as I tried to cope with what I was learning and my beliefs changing. I am sure I offended many people during those years. (Let’s be honest, I have probably offended people for a lot longer than 3 years.) I know that I hurt people, because I was hurting so much myself. And I am very sorry for that. In the last year, I have found more peace, and have been able to start healing and moving forward. I am at a good place in my life. Maybe the best place I have ever been. (And I’m not just referring to the sunny days here in Vegas- although that helps a ton!) In this time, I have pretty much kept my mouth shut. I have thought about sharing my experience a million times, but have never wanted to “open that can of worms”. It has also been such a personal choice, that I didn’t necessarily want anyone else to weigh in on it. I have seen anger on both sides, and have hoped to remain quiet in the middle.

The problem with remaining quite is that the story goes on without me. People still talk. Only now, without me speaking up, they interpret things how they see them.  They fill in the blanks that I have left with other people’s experiences, or their own assumptions. They may hear many different stories, but none of them are mine.  In an effort to reclaim my own story, I have decided to start blogging about it. This blog is completely dedicated to sharing my personal journey out of the Mormon church. (And maybe some of JT’s experience as well, if he wants me to share them.)  No one has to read it. My small family may be the only people who ever care what I have to say. And that is OK too. I just need to make sure that if my story is being told, that I am the author.  That is why I have chosen to put myself Back in the Narrative.