Why I May Not Be in Church This Sunday

I believe it's this Sunday, at least.

Teachings of the Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith, Chapter 27: The Bitter Fruits of Apostasy.

Apostasy.

To the dictionary, the word is benign: the renunciation of a religious or political belief or allegiance

To the Church, it's betrayal of God.

The second paragraph in the lesson begins thusly:

As that year wore on, a spirit of apostasy grew among some of the Saints in Kirtland. Some members became proud, greedy, and disobedient to the commandments... Sister Eliza R. Snow recalled: 'Many who had been humble and faithful to the performance of every duty - ready to go and come at every call of the Priesthood - were getting haughty in their spirits, and lifted up in the pride of their hearts.' (p. 317)

Too often, far too often, we shun those who no longer agree with all or some of the tenants of the church as prideful, haughty, greedy and worldly apostates. Indeed when one disagrees, some jump at the chance to suggest the apostate is looking for the approval of the world as opposed to that of God. As Latter-day Saints we are in the world, but not of the world. Apostates, on the other hand, fit both bills.

This lesson doesn't help that.

...Brigham Young...remembered a meeting at which some Church members were discussing how to depose the Prophet Joseph: 'I rose up, and in a plain and forcible manner told them that Joseph was a Prophet and I knew it, and that they might rail and slander him as much as they pleased, [but] they could not destroy the appointment of the Prophet of God; they could only destroy their own authority, cut the thread that bound them to the Prophet and to God, and sink themselves to hell. (p. 317, emphasis added)

Elder Dallin H. Oaks has mentioned it's inappropriate for anyone to criticise Church leaders, even when it is justified. And why? The lesson explains:

"Losing confidence in Church leaders, criticizing them, and neglecting any duty required by God lead to apostasy" (p. 318)

Siiiiigh.

It's never about anything else, either.

[Brigham Young] then remarked that any man, any elder in this Church and kingdom who pursued a course whereby he would ignore or, in other words, refuse to obey any known law or commandment or duty - whenever a man did this, neglected any duty God required at his hand in attending meetings, filling missions, or obeying counsel, he laid a foundation to lead him to apostasy and this was the reason those men had fallen. (p. 319, emphasis added)

I understand that it's wrong to complain just to complain. We all do it, we probably shouldn't. Sustaining our leaders, teachers, etc. includes buoying them up. Supporting them. Raising our hand in class, preparing for class, etc.

"As long as my brethren stand by me and encourage me, I can combat the prejudices of the world, and can bear the contumely [harsh treatment] and abuse with joy..." (Joseph Smith, p. 320)

Of course. We all need support in our work, our leaders especially. This isn't easy stuff, and there is a world of people against them. They've much to combat.

But to suggest justified criticism is wrong because it's a stepping stone to apostasy...? Is this shit for real?

It gets worse.

"From apostates the faithful have received the severest persecutions. Judas was rebuked and immediately betrayed his Lord into the hands of His enemies, because Satan entered into him" (p. 321)

Ahh, yes. Apostates of the Church today = Judas.

Judas. Who betrayed Christ to his death.

"Who, among all the Saints in these last days, can consider himself as good as our Lord? Who is as perfect? Who is as pure? Who is as holy as He was?" (p. 321)

I get it! The Church isn't perfect, neither are the servants of the Lord. I get it! But I propose those who leave don't consider themselves perfect. We don't ask for a perfect church. We don't ask for perfect leaders...necessarily. I'll admit I do hope for better in my leaders. It's important to realize they're human too and will fail at times. We need to realize such about anybody. Respect is tantamount, but respect must be given and earned and isn't always even by our leaders. The benefit of the doubt is also vital, for both leader and follower alike. Sometimes we just don't know. I get all of this. I don't think "apostates" necessarily began with criticising present leaders as much as they may criticise past leaders' opinions as well as current church stances. There is a difference.

The lesson basically accuses "apostates" of biting the hand that fed them, and indeed perhaps some do. One such example MAY be Ed Decker (thank you, Equality, for the correction. Oy!). His work is unbelievably ridiculous. My mom had me watch his movie The Godmakers as an investigator and I laughed. Horrible. Fear mongering and exaggerations at its worst.

But are we much better sometimes?

This lesson encompasses the reason so many find difficulty in leaving. Many stay because they believe in certain tenets of the faith. Many stay because they feel a connection to God here. Many do stay because they cannot go anywhere else because their discriminatory beliefs in God are rejected in many other churches (though I hear many choose to attend the Unitarian churches).

But many don't leave because they're scared to death of abandonment and venom. If they haven't already, they know the accusations will fly. Gossip will hush behind their backs. They are going to hell. They are covenant breakers, and if you've been to the temple, you may recall the consequences of breaking those covenants, though they sound more like general threats of the wrath of God...

And it doesn't matter what dissenters say about their good feelings toward the Church despite their disaffection. This lesson also covers that.

When the Prophet had ended telling how he had been treated, Brother Behunin remarked: 'If I should leave this Church I would not do as those men have done: I would go to some remote place where Mormonism had never been heard of, settle down, and no one would ever learn that I knew anything about it.'

The great Seer immediately replied: 'Brother Behunin, you don't know what you would do. No doubt these men once thought as you do. Before you joined this Church you stood on neutral ground. When the gospel was preached, good and evil were set before you. You could choose either or neither. There were two opposite masters inviting you to serve them. When you joined this Church you enlisted to serve God. When you did that you left the neutral ground, and you never can get back on to it. Should you forsake the Master you enlisted to serve, it will be by the instigation of the evil one, and you will follow his dictation and be his servant (p.324)

That's right.

The lesson ends on a higher note, I think, stating that the majority of the prophets and apostles will never lead us astray. Quite a change from "The Prophet will never lead you astray" but I suppose most things don't get through the Quorum until a majority rules, correct? Ahh, I don't know.

I don't believe the apostles and the Prophet to be imposters. I don't hate the Church; I'm grateful for it and will always be.

There are apostates, but not necessarily betrayers of God. Though I certainly understand why the Church would think so, many simply find another way to God (and many turn agnostic at best and athiest at "worst"). Some in the Church accept this and treat sincere dissenters with respect, but most hear lessons like this and choose to shun, choose to believe anyone who would leave (and generally these are the once very active and zealous) to be a fallen people, a prideful people, a worldly people.

This simply isn't true, not all of the time. I understand the Church wants to protect its people, wants to ensure its people stay faithful, but to suggest it's God or Satan, I think, is counterproductive. Some readers might find it to be a truthful statement. Such black and white teaching and thinking only serves to push more people away. I won't have anything to do with it.

I still haven't decided if I want to go or not. Upon my first reading of this lesson my anxieties kicked in. Guilt set in. I developed a migraine.

Many would say this is because "the guilty taketh the truth to be hard."

And I just might hit the next person who suggests such a thing. Guilt isn't always a reaction to uninvited truth, but to indoctrination.

I just don't know. I don't know how I'd react at Church. I already know what people will say, I just want to know what I would say. I couldn't go and remain quiet. That wouldn't be right, but it sure will pique some curiosities regarding where I stand. Eh.

Out of the Closet

When we moved back (to our hometown) this past August, our bishopric wasted little time in extending callings to my husband and I. No big deal; we knew the drill. First they stopped by our home as a "get to know you" type meeting - the type I like the most. There's something about when you have a leader take the time to stop by your home that feels more genuine. A past Relief Society president did that, and I loved her for it. She was amazing.

Anyway, within a few weeks we both received that phone call. Brother J asked Eric if he'd like to be a Sunday School teacher for the 16-17 year olds, and of course Eric said yes. He liked the idea - not time consuming, no meetings, kids, cool. Then, because I was otherwise occupied, Bro. J told Eric he wanted to call me to be the fourth Sunday Relief Society teacher.

I'd never taught before, not really - and never in church. I don't count the two times I substituted for the Sunbeams class. I did have some experience as an English tutor and I do enjoy giving talks during Sacrament meeting, so I accepted, knowing the potential of the challenge due to my faith issues. But I understand the deal: stay within what's accepted, keep my opinions to myself, etc.

November's lesson went much better than expected. Even two weeks later I had sisters complimenting me. I wish I remembered what I did. I know I gave them opportunity to discuss and I did little reading...but I also know my preparation lacked severely. Apparently I did well though, which propelled me to December's lesson.

Oh boy. This lesson was based off Elder Uchtdorf's talk The Infinite Power of Hope and Sister Dalton's A Return to Virtue.

This lesson didn't go well...at all. I found I struggled greatly in keeping within the approved lines. I couldn't handle the dialogue, the difficulty I found in asking questions which didn't lead to the standard Primary answers. I could hear Sister Dalton's voice in my head, and it screeched like nails on a chalkboard. A return to virtue? Yes I know the world has a different idea of virtue at times, but I tire quickly of the intonations, the vocabulary, the insinuations, the complete lack of feeling someone is relating to me.

Say I'm making much out of something small, and you'd probably be right. I do have some anger right now. I'm annoyed. But I tried.

I extended the lesson on virtue to that of charity. One woman in the room recognized that charity is much, much more than just bringing a new mom a casserole: it's what's in the heart. Yay!

Someone else related a story which reminded me of one of my own. In short, two friends of mine and I went to a Giants game in San Fransisco some years ago. A man rifled through the dumpsters in the parking lot. While I did all I could to avoid this person, my friend ran back to the car to get some food for him. As she handed him her twinkies, another man approached and handed the transient a beer.

My first reaction, I said, was "Oh, geez, a beer?" but then I remembered and understood this man's charity matched my friend's and far exceeded my own. I learned a few lessons that day I'll never forget.

When I mentioned the beer in class, however, one woman sighed with disapproval. A beer.

I'll admit nervousness and little preparation for this lesson, but I felt it all lost in this one story. I could be wrong, perhaps the women believed I wanted to make a point regarding twinkies versus beer in charity. I don't know. My driving point as a teacher, though, has been to help people know that we're not alone in our righteousness, that good, even amazing people really do exist outside this church. Even virtuous people.

Suffice it to say the lesson bombed. I knew on one level I could recover from it; after all, everyone suffers bad lessons, especially as novices. My issue came with the fact that I harbor a special irritation with the talks. Come to Zion, Our Hearts are Knit as One, O Ye That Embark.

For real. I don't get why we're still stuck in the pioneer age.

Last week put the last nail in the coffin for me, though. I substituted for Eric's Sunday School class. I had four boys and one girl, and all of them didn't want to be there. All of them complained. All of them liked to harp on other churches, on their hypocracy. "Do you see them smoking pot?" "Yeah, they get drunk all the time, too."

It didn't occur to me until after class that these kids harbored a jealousy over their non-member friends. These kids are angry. I asked for their honesty, and honestly, they just don't care. They don't get it. They don't believe in it, and they don't really want to. They don't have a reason to.

I couldn't teach the lesson because...well, I couldn't. Not in good faith, so we just talked. Their attitudes, lack of respect, and anger truly astounded me - and it's nothing I haven't run into before with our youth. But I was good. I didn't let any of my feelings through. Just let them talk.

I understand my heart may be "hardened" right now. I also know I shouldn't be teaching like this, so I called my bishop. Of course he wanted to know why, so I told him.

I'm out. At least to my bishop. He wanted to know what exactly was bothering me, but I couldn't figure out how to put it into words. I know I write here like crazy about it, and I know I talk with my husband about it to death and I've other people online I've vented to, but I still don't know how to tell my bishop. I don't know how to say it. My writing and incessant talking is all in an effort to figure out what exactly I'm feeling, believing and thinking and how to say it.

I need an Aaron.

I respect my bishop. He's a good man. He understood my need for time. That'll help; it already has. Perhaps I've mentioned it before, but my previous bishop counseled me to watch more BYU-TV. Gee, thanks.

Yesterday was a hard day. I was a mess. Today I feel I could talk with him. I hated asking for a release so soon after my call, but I didn't feel I could teach in good faith anymore. I don't know. I need to talk with him again, if only to get this all off my chest. I don't expect much to change, I don't expect my bishop to understand, but he gave me my space yesterday. He's been a good man that way.

I think that's why I hesitate to tell him exactly what's on my mind. I don't want to disappoint, and I fear my emotions are getting the better of my otherwise level head. I don't want to give the impression, as some have commented, that I'm throwing the baby (doctrine) out with the bathwater (the culture). I do take issue with some core doctrine, but it's easier to harp on the culture. Less frightening. More people tend to agree the culture needs help whereas doctrinal issues may prompt a spiritual intervention. The look on a close, once best friend's face when the topic of gay marriage comes up breaks my heart. She's scared. She wants to save me despite everything I've said.

It's very difficult to say what is going on in my head out loud. It's like stepping into the dark, and before anyone says that the dark is no place we want to be, let me assure you joining the church was like stepping into the dark. When Joseph Smith prayed, there was a period of darkness before the light. There is often darkness before the light. This I know. I've experienced it.

I'm still a little afraid of it, though.

Confessions Part 2: What's Been Bothering Me

Okay, okay, okay. I suppose I can't just come out with "thinking of leaving the church" and then get back to business as usual.

I value and revere honesty so much in other people when they're able to say scary things. What I said in my post may well be read by members of my family (I really don't know) and perhaps a member or two of my stake.

It's taken me some years to get here, where I can find the courage for even a little frankness and honesty. I'll admit much indifference anymore rather than courage. It’s taken some time, some acceptance, and confidence of self to get to this point. Though I do fear verbalizing my beliefs and rationale thereof, when I’m alone and unafraid, I know exactly where I stand. There’s a reason I write. My emotions get the better of me and at least here I can edit and think before I speak.

That said, there’s a fear of confessing here as well: I know there are some who visit my blog who believe in the Church but for some reason find some worth in my words. I fear that my “coming out” will take away any clout I had. I hope that’s not true, but if it is: so be it.

My missionaries called me their "golden convert." I had a set of senior missionaries, and they were sweet, but boy am I glad I had even then a level head. Dad, if you're reading this, I know you didn't think so, but I did. I knew at the second discussion they'd ask me to commit in some degree to baptism, so I was ready to tell them to wait. When they tried to convince me of the divinity of the Book of Mormon by pointing out that a prophecy foretold in 1 Nephi was fulfilled in 3rd Nephi, I recognized right away the fallacy in such an argument. When they suggested I have my family watch the video Families Can Be Together Forever I knew I couldn't. I'd seen the video. Baaaad video, and besides, my family already believed that. My mom found great offense in the idea that we thought she couldn’t be with us in the afterlife.

Sometime after baptism - and I wish I knew the place exactly - I noticed a few times a footnote in the Book of Mormon which offers a Joseph Smith Translation. Anyone have a good explanation for that? I still find that weird.

I don't recall each time something struck me odd, but they came and went. I gave them no voice because I believed and that stuff didn't matter, or so I told myself. I appreciated having friends who accepted me for who I was. I appreciated being in a new place where I could be a new person. Back at home there were people who had known me since preschool and others since my awkward tomboy stage. Kids can be unforgiving, so the renewed chance with genuine friendship was nice. I was eighteen years old and in college in a new city. My new friends were fun, and I liked church. I believe I even wrote "Sunday is my favorite day" in my journal.

The Church has been good to me. I've grown as a person, met the most amazing man. I’ve been blessed because of this church. I don’t deny that. I couldn’t.

But the more I learn the more I feel unsettled. We're told to not quote "unauthorized" sources in our lessons, yet Church leaders often quote Bruce R. McConkie's patently unauthorized Mormon Doctrine. Are we to? No. Apparently we can't tell when McConkie spoke truth and when he was speaking out of his ass, but our leaders can.

Then there’s fun stuff like this quote from Elder Mark E. Peterson of the Quorum of the Twelve circa 1954:

Think of the Negro, cursed as to the priesthood…. This negro, who, in the pre-existence lived the type of life which justified the Lord in sending him to the earth in the lineage of Cain with a black skin, and possibly being born in darkest Africa—if that negro is willing when he hears the gospel to accept it, he may have many of the blessings of the gospel. In spite of all he did in the pre-existent life, the Lord is willing, if the Negro accepts the gospel with real, sincere faith, and is really converted, to give him the blessings of baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost. If that Negro is faithful all his days, he can and will enter the celestial kingdom. He will go there as a servant, but he will get celestial glory.

- Race Problems—As They Affect The Church, Address by Mark E. Petersen at the Convention of Teachers of Religion on the College Level, delivered at Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah, August 27, 1954.

If anyone knows BYU, and I'll admit my knowledge is wanting, we can agree BYU to be very strict in what it allows and what it doesn't. See the Honor Code if you don't believe me. When a General Authority visits gives a talk at BYU, we can assume BYU's blessing of the words. We can assume the teachers at said convention took his words as truth and passed it along through the years until the Church became more "enlightened."

There are many more quotes, such as that the blacks will never receive the priesthood. When such things are brought up in conversation, the inevitable answers include "new revelation trumps old," "this isn't doctrine, just some member of the Quorum giving a talk," or "those leaders spoke from limited understanding." I can accept the last excuse, it's on the right track, but the teaching was still wrong. Why can't we just admit to being wrong?

I want someone to say that we could be working on limited revelation now. I want us to stop talking in absolutes, because we don't know everything. Perhaps we're working on limited revelation regarding homosexuality. I think it's entirely possible, but you won't find many who will agree.

I don't believe this church is the only "true" church. I refuse to give testimony in which I lie in proclaiming my knowledge of that which I have no knowledge of so I can gain faith in it, and yet we are asked to do so. I have no issue with saying "I believe...." But "I know" both sounds rote and impassionate. We say it so often the power within it is gone. I feel the same about our rote prayers.

We are not a perfect church, can't we just say it? Or are we too concerned with image and numbers? Are we too concerned that we've touted ourselves as such for so long that we'll lose members? How will we look to the outside world if we concede something? Perhaps for some it will never matter. I'd just like some dialogue.

Not that I'm anyone to speak, but we seem awfully prideful sometimes.

Onto other things:
I don't believe a tank top (a clothing garment I can't pull off, btw) is immodest. I don't believe having a cup of tea or coffee (both of which I'm not a fan of, though I used to be a huge fan of iced mochas) will make me unworthy to be in God's presence. Yes, I know: sometimes we're asked to do simple things in the name of faith. The scripture regarding Christ telling a follower to wash in the Jordan River comes to mind. All of it is in my brain, I just happen to think there are other things we could focus on rather than a friggin' coffee bean and tea leaf.

I’m tired of listing the health benefits thereof and having people say “eh, the WoW isn’t necessarily about health” when ten seconds before we were talking about the health code that is the WoW. Or that it's about addiction when we're all addicted to something. While I may not be addicted to coffee, I'll admit a huge addiction to sugar. Am I unworthy? If I drank coffee but gave up sugar, would I be worthy?

I'm tired of condescending leaders (especially for the youth, holy crap. anyone seen A Brand New Year? Watch the videos. WOW - frightening). I'm tired of people telling me to study the scriptures but ignore the inconsistencies and hard things. I want to stay because of family and my kids, but much as I like putting them in primary (they love it), I worry about the mixed messages they'll receive at home. I don't want them becoming so much a part of it and then having their mom and dad say they don't believe everything. Talk about counter-productive. I want them to have a spiritual background but not just this one. I like the social aspect of Church as well. My husband and I are rather anti-social, so church provides our children with friends to interact with. As they start school this part gets better, though. I’m getting better.

I don't want to be called a fence sitter, but I guess that’s what I am, what I've been. Call me lukewarm, something God will spit out as spoken in Revelation, fine. I guarantee you I’m guilting myself far better than anyone else ever could.

I'll go through the pains I went through joining ten times before I'll want to go through the pains of leaving. In joining I acquired a unique set of beliefs without rejecting fundamental beliefs such as the existence of God. In leaving, however, I’ll have those who tell me I am stepping into the fiery pits of hell and am bound to be an enemy of the Church (don’t believe me? Read Chapter 27 of “Teachings of the Prophets: Joseph Smith.” It’s called The Bitter Fruits of Apostasy. Or just come to church next week, I think. I’m not sure I’ll be there.)

It will be strange to be in the same place my mom was when the remainder of my husband's siblings marry - in the foyer, waiting, because I can't say I have a testimony anymore, that I find great difficulty in sustaining my leaders, or because while I may keep the word of wisdom, I don't believe in some of it. I’ll sit in the foyer because I take issue with the idea of the priesthood, that God would deny my non-member sister some blessings simply because our father doesn't hold the priesthood. Is a blessing surely that much more powerful than a non-member's prayer for healing? I’ll sit because I don’t sustain our leaders when it comes to their recent actions. Because I do sympathize with some so-called “apostates;” I get where they’re coming from but do reject their venom. I will sit outside because there’s something about the endowment ceremony which doesn’t sit right with me. Because I can’t say I believe just so I can attend a wedding or keep up appearances with friends or family who may invite us along soon.

There are some whose reaction I fear worse than others. Those who I’ve held close to my heart for so many years who are on the other end of the spectrum, a person I don’t want to scare but will. I hold no desire to talk people down from their testimony, only a desire to have others understand my disaffection and respect it. I get the fear; I’ve felt it too and not just with myself. I know the inevitability of this fear. I know time will heal that wound too, but never entirely.

I’ve no desire to take my name off the rolls, but I don’t want to be an active, all-believing part of something which preaches only black and white, bad or good, worthy or unworthy. It's just not as cut and dry as many of us want to believe. I still want to attend church, but I don’t want to be held to some ridiculous standard or have doctrines and ideas taught to my children which I don’t believe. Right now they’re taught to “choose the right.” Good. But my daughter will be eight years old in two years. I do think that’s a little young for the huge decision that is baptism.

The culture and doctrine of all or nothing serves me little purpose and stunts my spiritual and personal growth. It isn’t that way anywhere else – at least not in mainstream Christianity, but again that’s not a place I want to be necessarily either. I suppose in that way I’m being forced out. I know in my heart and in my head the choice has been made already, but the idea of never or at least rarely attending church saddens me. I don’t care for that. I’ve made some new friends over the last few months; granted they’re little more than acquaintances but people I’d like to get to know better nevertheless. Will they reject me? Where will I find new friends? Though I’m fairly introverted, I do need good friends. They can come in any form though: LDS or not.

I think I know where I’m headed, the peace is coming slowly but surely.

Apostasy? Call it whatever you will. God knows me. Perhaps I’ll want to come back sometime in the future, but if I did I would want to do it without pulling the wool over my own eyes. I leave nothing out of the realm of possibility. I do so love the smell of the chapel and the sound of the hymns. Sigh.

I just happen to think my personal relationship with God and Christ matters more than my relationship with the Church, and right now I feel it’s too much about the Church and not enough about God. Too much about coffee and tea and less about garnering a pure love of Christ in my heart. Too much about fear and less about unconditional love.

That’s all.

Swearing Kids

A few days ago my husband told me our son overheard "fuck" on the television and repeated it.

Happens, right? I asked him how he handled it, and with a smile he said "Just told him we don't say that." I know he smiled to my son as part of his reaction. I love this man, and am so glad we've both - well, I've - loosened up.

A new thought entered my mind as my ever-curious daughter responded to what was intended to be a quiet remark between her parents. "What did he say?"

"Not a nice word," I answered.

"What word was it?"

For the first time, I considered telling her and glanced at my husband. He shrugged. The public setting gave me pause, however. "Don't worry about it."

If I had this to do over again, I'd offer to talk about it at home. Chances are she'd probably forget about it, but I would want her to know I'm willing to talk.

My daughter's question was perfectly acceptable. The next time she asks me I'm going to tell her and then we'll talk about it. Do I need to give her the definition of "fuck"? No, she's not ready for that - and besides, there are so many. Other words would prove easier. Some, like damn, I wouldn't really be able to give her a good reason other than some find offense with it.

As we're counseled to with sex and the parts of our bodies, I think we should be frank with our children regarding the vocabulary they will hear in school, and if not in school, than when they visit with friends or, in the case of my son, while channel flipping. It will happen no matter our attempts to keep them from it. In time I imagine I'll give her the definition of the sketchier words, but I'd rather do it than have her friends tell her.

Gasping and freaking out will not help. Being blunt with them will. This may mean we will need to say the word.

I know my kids will go through a phase where they will curse like little sailors and think they're cool. Fine. I want to teach my kids, help them understand things. Children who know tend to lay off the immaturity of childhood a bit more than others. I also believe in the importance of explaining things to our kids. I've found they're more apt to do what is right when they understand better.

Some may say "I'm afraid that by being frank I'll come across as flippant, and if they think I don't care then they won't care either, and they should." That's not it, though. We can express our distaste for certain words, but we must be able to discuss matters with our children. Dismissing them, ignoring them, or tip-toeing around them won't work.

I refuse to condescend to my kids. I respect them; I respect them as growing human beings who long for knowledge, who are part of this world and who will be exposed to this world; I respect them because I want them to respect me and others around them. I've so far to go, but this has always been forefront in my mind. Explaining the more colorful, itchy, and perhaps inappropriate things of this world is a responsibility of mine and my husband.

Children rebel (it's healthy) but they really rebel when their parents and other authority figures make such a big deal out of everything. I also believe the same thing happens when we make every disasteful word illicit, such as "jerk" or "fart." In picking our battles the war will be easier to win.

And frankly, I think we should be more honest and up front with each other about these words. Petting them with the "f-bomb" serves little purpose. Just say them. I believe, and maybe this is just me, that the sin is in the intent of the word, not necessarily in the word itself.

Confessions: Why I Stay, Why I May Not Be Able To

A friend of mine, The Faithful Dissident, wrote an entry entitled "Why Are You Still Here?" a few months ago (thanks, sweetie, for the correction :) . Those who read shared their reasons for staying, but even then I wasn’t sure how to respond besides “I don’t know.”

That’s a lie, really, but to tell the truth really opens up some wounds and I fear the salt. I know why I stay. Are they good reasons? Eh.

More and more I wonder if it’s worth it.

First I’ll start with the good, the things I do believe in, what I like. I believe in eternity. I can’t not believe in that. I believe in families being together forever, but to be honest (and despite Mormon myth), there are a lot of Christian and non-Christian denominations which believe this. It may differ, but there’s little that separates us. When we speak of families being together, most believers will nod their neads.

Moving on.

I’ve always believed in God. Even when I stopped attending my dad’s Assembly of God church and rejected all organized religion, I still believed in God. I still prayed. Today my prayers are rare, but I don’t doubt God is there.

I believe works are more important than most realize in salvation. Key to salvation? Heck no, but "faith without works is dead." That said, I’m tired of trying so damn hard. The list is long, and I can deal with that, but too many things on said list seem trite to this tired girl.

The temple. I’ve mixed emotions about the temple. Beyond the standard “hearkening” to the husband stuff, I’ve other issues. What’s with the women covering their faces with the veil?

(On a slightly related note, what’s with so much focus on the Church and less on God? I know this is a touchy thing for me to say, but I’ve always, always hated “Praise to the Man”

Thankfully, at least in my area, we don’t sing that hymn often, but the discovery that my beloved ex-Stake President’s favorite hymn was Praise to the Man unsettled me.)

The people. My SIL became one of my best friends. We’ve changed so much in the past seven years, but when we were close (before we were SILs), she was an anchor. I loved her for many reasons. Before her and through her I've met some amazing people.

My husband. Need I say more?

Institute, much as I squirm to think of it now, saved my life. When I started college, I know for a fact two paths laid before me. Without the girl who introduced me to Institute and befriended me, I would have undoubtedly embarked on the wrong path. The church has been a godsend for me and my life. Much as I want to regret it sometimes, I can’t. We hear a lot of converts say they don’t know where they’d be without the church, but I have a pretty good idea. It is much of what frightens me about life without the church today. I have to keep reminding myself that it doesn't have to be as scary as I (a) think it would've been, (b) am told it is, and that (c) many people lead good lives without it. It's not easy.

The knowledge God can speak to me. Priceless, and yet one of the most compelling reasons I struggle so much today.

And, much as I writhe within it, the culture. The social network. It’s wonderful. It’s just what a new convert from an angry family needs. It’s just what a teenager in the throes of high school needs. I understand its importance and yet understand all too well its restrictiveness. I think the consequences thereof outweigh the benefits. But maybe that’s just me. I don’t imagine anyone free from the Mormon spiritual struggle understands this (and I mean those who have ever, if only briefly, truly considered the idea of leaving), but there are many who do.

Isolation. Rejection. Pointed fingers and whispers.

Tough love…maybe. Perspective changes everything.

The story of the Book of Mormon appealed to me. I’d always rejected the idea of the Trinity. I appreciated the constancy of the Church. I appreciated staunch adherence to values.

And why not Joseph Smith? Would I as a person back in the day of Christ believed in Christ, or back in the day of Moses believed in Moses? Why not Joseph Smith?

That said, I know the possibility in believing in only part of the gospel. GA's love to talk about how if we accept Joseph Smith as a prophet all else falls into place - as in everything the Church has ever done, is doing, and will do. I don't buy that.

Onto some issues:

Four years ago or so, my family moved so my husband could attend the nearby university. The prospect of being on our own appealed to me very much; I’d tired of others referring to me as “Mary’s* roommate” or even “Eric’s wife.” I had a name, thankyouverymuch.

Some may speculate distance from family contributed to our struggles, but after a year we assimilated into our new ward. For all intents and purposes, I really liked our ward. I loved being on our own. I loved others calling me "Sister J" than "Eric's wife."

Something else of which I am uncomfortable discussing here started it all.

Then we read Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling. Not anti-material. Refreshing. Largely unbiased, and by that I mean as unbiased as a book written by a member can be. Honest.

Honest.

Polygamy. It hit home for me that year. The idea sickened me. I cried often, knowing I could not accept such doctrine. For some years I reconciled it, but to personalize it, to feel how it might feel, the reconciling process stops. The teaching that I must accept it or be damned didn’t help either. My husband fought with that idea as well for the first time. Until then he defended polygamy as “sacred.” No longer.

Enter first “What if I left?” thought.

Somehow, though, we managed and even went through a period of rebirth. We purchased some pictures, books, videos, etc. When our doubts resurfaced, peeking over the horizon like the beginnings of sunrise, we ignored them.

Long story short, then Prop 8 happened. Yes, my bishop said “oh you’re okay,” but his blessing failed to heal the gaping, festering wound that was first my friend’s reaction to my stance, and then the realization that the answers to my prayers were in vain if the Prophet had spoken; the idea our prayers are meant only to confirm and never to contest.

Many argue this point, but it’s there and I don’t intend to debate it further.

Open the floodgates to other issues I’d always silenced. Open the floodgates to the desolate land that is life inside this closet, inside the idea that if I left I’d lose friends and in many ways lose family. I’d be alone because, as an introvert, this is my social network. It would be gone. I’d take on the label of apostate, and nobody wants to hang out with an apostate. It's contagious.

Enter guilt and fear like I never knew possible.

Enter the emptiness that comes with really not belonging anywhere. I’ve so many issues with the church, yet I cannot accept many fundamental doctrines of mainstream Christianity either. In many ways this feels as if it would be a spiritual exile. Just call me Cain.

I don’t know what to do or how to do it, and putting everything into words proves far more difficult than it ought to be.

I do know this: The more I hear about how awesome we are, how much apostates suck, that I need to just suck it up and have hope and faith; the more I hear about how many people are missing out on the “one and only truth of the Gospel,” how righteous we are (and by definition, how wicked others are) and have to endure cultural traditions that blur with doctrine so that the line no longer exists…The more I have to be told to stay within my very small box or risk falling into sin (heaven forbid we mess up): the more I don’t want to be here.

We talk about accountability and freedom of choice, but I don’t see it anymore. There is no freedom here. Don’t drink (still have thoughts on this. Many will disagree), avoid the appearance of evil, don’t curse, give everything we can to the Church, serve serve serve with little focus on heart and intention, just serve; one earring only per ear now girls, Sundays are a day of church, meetings, and never seeing your family, etc. The list goes on and is largely meant to keep us from even the chance of sin. Where is the choice in that?

Where is the choice when it's either obey or suffer the consequences of eternal misery?

I’m tired of the word “worthy.” I’m tired of simple answers to complex questions. I’m tired of Pharisaical guidelines (again, the damn earrings, but there’s more). No beards? For real? The inability of the church to discuss difficult topics such as Mountain Meadows, Blacks and the Priesthood, and SEX. People! I need to do another post on sex.

I don’t want to strive for perfection. It’s an exercise in futility. I’m tired of having the weight of the world on my shoulders that is being a great example. I’ve had this weight on me before I joined the church, and in my experience it doesn’t matter as much as we want it to. Because of it I’ve never been true to myself nor have I ever allowed myself to make mistakes from which to learn from. I cannot tell my son to be good because his little brother is watching him. Surely there are better and more motivating reasons that pertain only to him, so that he'll feel he's "choosing the right" because he believes it's right and not because he feels the pressure to be a "good example" or has the weight of ensuring the souls of those around him are righteous because of him.

The world is not that bad of a place. We fear so much. Too much. It will come back to bite us in the ass and I’m tired of always looking back to see what’s coming. Let me enjoy life. Enough with the don’ts. I just want to live, be a good person, and live according to my conscience which seems to have served me very well thus far.

Oh, and by the way, the Spirit works in the hearts of non-members as well. Probably far more than we care to realize.

And let’s not forget the awesomeness of Joseph Smith – his 200th birthday celebration was ridiculous. So much pomp and circumstance over a man. Yes, he did much, suffered much, etc, but come on.

I wish everything was easier. There are days I long for freedom of the confines of this church, and I feel them more as shackles these days than anything else. But I know where I would be without having joined this church. I can’t deny its power in my life. Being told if I leave all sorts of hell will pour down upon me...well. This is safe. But do I want to stay where I merely feel "safe"?

The grasp is firm and unyielding. Guilt and fear are strong, strong motivators, and the fact it is guilt and fear keeping me here gives me only more reason to think I’m in the wrong place right now. Perhaps I’m done.

Avoiding the Appearance of Evil is Stupid

"Abstain from all appearances of evil." (1 Thessalonians 5:22)

"Since there are no harmless flirtations and there is no place for jealousy after marriage, it is best to avoid the very appearance of evil by shunning any questionable contact with another to whom we are not married."

- President James E. Faust, April 2007 Ensign: First Presidency Message: Enriching Your Marriage (emphasis added)

"Believing involves faith and good works. We cannot be passive; we must actively avoid evil. This means that we do not trifle with sacred things. Families in this day and time should not only avoid evil but avoid the very appearance of evil. To combat these influences families must have family prayer, family home evening, and family scripture study."

- President James E. Faust. November 1997 Ensign: Pioneers of the Future: Be Not Afraid, Only Believe. Reprinted in the July 1998 New Era. (emphasis added)

"The best counsel I ever received about staying away from the edge came when, as a young married man, President Harold B. Lee called me to be a member of a bishopric. He said, 'From now on, you must not only avoid evil, but also the appearance of evil.' He did not interpret that counsel. That was left to my conscience."

- President James E. Faust, November 1995 Ensign: Acting for Ourselves and Not Being Acted Upon (emphasis added)

Appearances by Sheila Kindred in the November 2002 Friend uses a story to illustrate the dangers in encouraging the appearance of evil. Fresh from their Boy Scout meeting, a little boy and his friend waited in the parking lot for their parents. One boy jokingly put a piece of chalk to his mouth and quipped “Yeah. Look at me, I’m cool.” A car full of rowdy teenagers drove by at that moment and cheered. A member of the boys’ ward happened by also and, shocked, made sure to inform the boy’s mom. After the boy cleared himself of all misconceptions, his mother suggested he call the mistaken ward member to apologize for his actions.

I could go on with the amount of Ensign/New Era/and Friend articles that deal with this idea, but it would be a very long list. If you're interested, here it is.

I don't want to seem as criticising our leaders (heaven forbid!) - instead, I am criticising an idea our leaders and many members have adopted.

The first quote I listed was scripture. How do you argue with or even rationalize scripture? By using the footnotes, apparently.

Footnote "b" for "appearances" states, "GR kinds. TG. Apparel."

Let's rephrase that scripture then: Abstain from all kinds of evil.

I have to give credit where due, I first heard this idea at Soy Made Me Gay: Soundbyte Doctrine. The idea of avoiding the appearance of evil always struck me stupid, but I didn’t know there was scriptural support for it. Yay!

The second quote refers to our neuroticism as a church in hanging out with opposite sex friends. Of course we shouldn’t hang out with someone we are attracted to - that’s not a good idea, but I do think President Faust overstepped the mark here. Wouldn’t it have been enough to simply state “We should shun any questionable contact with another to whom we are not married”?

As in, don’t place your hand on another’s thigh.

Some years ago I had to attend church alone. I showed up at the same time as an old guy friend of mine, and we ended up walking in together, talking. Down the aisle in the chapel we went, a bit late, and my insides knotted. What if they think we’re together? What if they think I’m cheating on my husband?

Who the hell cares what “they” think?

I'm tired of worrying about what other people think and I'm tired of having others tell me I ought to concern myself with what other people think. I do that well enough on my own, thankyouverymuch.

But the appearance of evil doesn’t stop there. Consider this familiar scenario: Work is having an office party. The boss asks you to make a store run, and as you leave someone shouts, “Can you grab a case of beer while you’re out?”

Now you’re left with a dichotomy: Get the beer because, well, it’s not for you to use or judge those who do, and you won’t drink. But is buying the beer a matter of condoning bad, yea, even “immoral” behavior?

That’s an individual decision. Many will decide to not get the case of beer. I’ve had one reader state she wouldn’t due to her hatred for alcohol – she feels against facilitating its use. That’s fine.

My issue comes with this excuse: ”I don’t want to give the wrong impression. What if an investigator, new member, or ward member is in the store and sees me? What will they think?”

What the hell does it matter?

I’m unsure as to others, but in my stake I’ve heard leaders preach avoiding the appearance of evil over the pulpit because someone might see you and, knowing you’re a member, think bad things about the Church (ah! they do drink!) or decide that they don’t want to associate with a church that does not practice what they preach when of course we do!

This strikes me as a very PR stance. I’ve had people suggest before that the individual matters less than the image of the church. Screw that.

Christ hung out with the prostitutes, the publicans, the lepers. He spoke the parable of the Good Samaritan. Everyone but the Samaritan concerned themselves more with the law and appearances rather than actually following Christ and doing that which was right.

We worry too much about ourselves and not nearly enough about other people - and I mean more in the sense of how others will see us versus the needs of our fellow man. What matters more? Our image or our neighbor?

In hanging out with the sinners, even Christ was misunderstood. The people concerned themselves too much with the law, with appearances, with the letter rather than the spirit of what Christ spoke of, of what God would want.

"The Son of man is come eating and drinking, and ye say, Behold a gluttonous man, and a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners!" (Luke 7:34)

Should Christ have avoided the appearance of evil?

Should we?

If we are to love our neighbor as ourselves, we need to be willing to get in the dirt with them. We have to be willing to chance a little gossip at church, perhaps a bit of a bad rap. In the end, what God thinks matters most. Not the girls in Relief Scoiety, not my bishop, not even the prophet (gasp!). As long as I know what I’m doing and God knows what I’m doing, I’m fine. Misconceptions can be cleared up, but sometimes gossip persists and I can’t control that. I’ve better things to do with my time.

If a person wants to judge me or my kid based on appearance only, than so be it. That’s not my problem. I wouldn’t make my kid apologize to anyone in a situation like the one discussed in the Friend. The woman gave the other mom a head’s up, and I’ve no issue with that, but I certainly wouldn’t compel my kid to apologize when he or she did nothing wrong.

And I certainly wouldn’t guilt trip my kid about keeping up “good” appearances. That’s a load of crap.

*Also posted at Feminist Mormon Housewives

Confessions of a "Small" Family

I have three kids.

This announcement evokes two responses, and each depends on my audience. Inside the ward building a person is likely to quip, “So when’re you having another one?” Outside the ward building, the response comes with a gasp and dropped jaw: “Three kids!”

Three kids. An LDS family of three children rivals the non-member family of an only child. Outside the Church, three children is…well, a lot.

I will not have any more kids. At ages 5, 4, and 3, my children are more than enough. I love my kids, but to realize our original plan of five would have been the equivalent to suicide for me.
Try explaining this to others, though. Friends and ward family regard us as children who will soon come to their senses and pop out a baker’s dozen like good Saints do.

“Oh you never know. You’re young. You could change your mind.”

“…Are you sure?”

It’s true I’m young(er), truth that people change their minds, but I resent insistences that I cannot know, that I would be silly to stop now, as if age determines how many children one should have. Even after confiding in a few friends – even my bishop – that after my last child my anxiety disorder flared, they stood by their original thought. “You never know. You’re young.”

I began to question myself.

Three kids. How is that “replenishing the Earth”? I know a family with twelve kids. Eric comes from a family of six. I can’t think of anyone who stopped at three. Am I selfish?

Selfish!

Just a few months ago a girl in my stake related the same thought. Pregnant with her fourth, she confided disinterest in any more children and feelings of selfishness because of this disinterest. Her thoughts echoed my own almost exactly, and I wondered if I share the company of more women than I originally believed.

Why do we feel we must do so much, even at the expense of our health and sanity?

We find merit in large families; indeed alongside a history of polygamy, others know us for our large families. I recognize with awe the women who flourish within their large families, these women who were made for many children. I know they exist. I don’t speak of them now.

But why do we have large families? I know I wanted a larger family upon joining the church. I think most large families are wonderful, the children produced of such often selfless, full of charity. I still think so, but I know myself entirely too well to keep going. I could not handle more. I struggle with the three I have, with my health, and I resent the implication of selfishness or silliness in refusing to have more. It would be selfish to have more children.

It seems to me sometimes that we place far too much emphasis on the frequency of our own procreation. It’s as if it speaks to our righteousness and faith as women. Quantity equals quality?

The admonition to multiply and replenish the earth is not a personal challenge. I don’t doubt some couples choose willingly to have extra large families and who excel and blossom within it. I am not one of them. I am not alone. Doctrinal or not, the idea that all women do and should have many children exists, and I believe it to be a dangerous one.


*Also published at Feminist Mormon Housewives