it occurred to me

As I sat doing some work yesterday, trying to plan my week, it suddenly occurred to me that I am no longer a current temple recommend holder. My temple recommend expired on March 31, 2007.

That realization came with mixed, though mostly happy, emotions. It made me smile, I said a little hallelujah in my head, and I felt a sense of liberation. I also felt just a twinge of sadness, mostly because I knew how much my family will hurt over never seeing me in the temple with them again. And I knew how many future weddings I'll be excluded from because I won't lie about my beliefs, wear funny underwear, or give 10% of my income to a billion dollar corporation whose policies I strongly disagree with.

I got my last temple recommend just over two years ago, when I was in a state of turmoil about the church. I hadn't yet read most of the books on my sidebar, and I hadn't yet let myself think "Can it be not true?" I was still in a state of mind where I thought the church was something special, and I thought that renewing my recommend would provide an anchor for me. I thought it would help me ground my beliefs in those essentials: Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith, priesthood restoration, latter-day prophets. I thought having the recommend would help me keep up my activity level, my "standards," for a couple more years while I decided what I really believed. Also, I thought there would probably be a family wedding soon, and I couldn't comprehend missing it because I hadn't renewed my recommend during a period of doubt.

So I renewed it, saying "yes" and "no" at all the right places, though I was putting caveats on most of the answers, inside my head. I didn't feel that I was lying about anything, I just had a liberal definition of "prophet, seer, and revelator," and when I agreed that the church was the true, restored church, I was answering entirely on a gigantic leap of faith. Which isn't what the church wants, but I think it's what a whole lot of people do.

I had purposely postponed reading Palmer's An Insider's View of Mormon Origins and several other books until after the recommend interviews. Within days of getting the renewal, I cracked open those books and read with an open mind.

And that's all it took.

wherein they find out I'm questioning

Right about the time I was pretty sure it wasn't true, but still very torn about it, still wishing I was wrong and just wanted go back to my normal life and pretend my whole world hadn't just come crashing down, my mom called. I had just taken my garments off two days before, not entirely sure if I was actually ready to make that move. But, you know, those new underwear just seemed so much better. And if Joseph Smith made them up anyway, who cares? But years of indoctrination will get to you.

Anyway, my mom called with remarkably bad timing. She found out (I won't get into details for privacy's sake) that we liked to read "anti-Mormon literature." You know, [mom voice] those books that are just a pack of lies and want nothing more than to ruin the church[/mom voice], like Compton's In Sacred Loneliness. I insisted that those books are not, in fact, "anti-Mormon," but rather are scholarship. I explained that I've seen some issues in the church my whole life, and wanted to resolve them; these books would help. (I skipped the part about how there were a whole new slew of issues that had come up in my reading of the previous 18 months.)

"What issues?"

"The ones I've seen for a long time? Polygamy, women's issues, priesthood ban against blacks..."

"I've had those issues, too, fta," she said. "But I didn't turn to some books to look for answers. What do those people know? I went to the Lord. He's the only one with the whole picture. You don't think I've struggled with these things? I struggled with polygamy for 15 years! But through prayer, I finally resolved it. And you can too. But not with those books!"

I explained that if I don't read these books, I'll never be satisfied. I must read them.

Shortly after the conversation, I wrote this:

So my mom called and confronted me about my/our testimonies, and I told her we're exploring, still going to church, but exploring. 'Do you think the church isn't true?' she asked. 'I'm allowing that to be a possibility,' I responded. Which is basically where I'm at right now.

All in all, the conversation was very negative and preachy 'You're deceived by the devil...Satan is trying to get to you...Satan deceived these authors of this anti-Mormon literature to try to hurt people and keep them from going to heaven...There are certain covenants you have to make in order to get to heaven and you have to go to the temple to make and keep those covenants...I KNOW the Church is true with every fiber of my being...Don't you want to go to heaven?...etc, etc.' She wants to me "to go to the Lord and pray about this and ask HIM for the answers, not some books of 'learned' people who are deceived and want to deceive you. Promise me you'll go to the Lord and truly ask for answers." ... Well, I have issues with talking to my mom about anything meaningful in the first place, and I had a pretty much passive role in the conversation, but I refused to give her what she wanted to hear. (Don't worry mom, I see the error of my ways and will burn all those books now and drive to the nearest temple asap.)

I wasn't ready for this. I wanted it to be on my terms. But now at least it's sort of out there. She does not know the extent of the 'damage to my testimony.' Imagine the torrent if I had told her I didn't wear my garments consistently the past week. The thing is, it affected me greatly. The first thing I did after getting off the phone was open the laptop to post a message to the foyer, but both my conscience (read: my mom's guilt-tripping) got to me and my son called me from the other room at the same time. I joined my son in my room and, of this I feel ashamed, put my garments back on. (I had put them back on for church yesterday too, only to take them off in the afternoon when the weather was warm.) Her guilt-tripping from 3000 miles away caused me to change my freaking clothes!

But I can't help thinking 'what if, what if, what if?' "

When she said, "I know," I blurted out, "How do you know?" It was an honest question. I was struggling and lost. I wanted to regain something I had lost, all the while knowing that, really, I couldn't.

Her answer, though, was unsatisfactory. "Because I know." It was empty to me. That meant nothing. That's it? That's all she had? I asked her not to tell anyone. I allowed her to tell my dad, but not my siblings.

The conversation shook me. Shook me bad. I needed some comfort, and found it by putting my garments back on. It felt safer. Maybe I was wrong, maybe she had a point, I thought. I had to talk to someone about it, so I went outside to where my husband was playing with our kid. Another friend was out there, one in whom I could confide. "I just had a conversation with my mom," I told them. She knew exactly what I meant. Disturbed and unsure, I switched between talking about it and sitting there, numb, staring at nothing. My kid and hers destroyed another neighbor's toy right in front of me, and I watched, not noticing, not seeing it. Fear and despair overtook me.

Shortly after that, my parents wrote me a letter to attempt to open dialogue. I wrote back, pretending I was still in my "serious questioning" phase, when really, I was a non-believer. I never sent the letter. I kept silent about all of it for five months.

polygamy

For me, polygamy was the most awful of all things Mormon, all growing up. I tried and tried to think of the idea of having to live polygamy in the Celestial Kingdom--and found it abhorrent. Surely God wouldn't make me? Surely D&C just meant that some people would live it, just the ones that wanted to? Right? Like all those people in Africa that practice it anyway?

It just doesn't jive with the equality of men and women. One man-four women is inherently unequal. That seems to mean that each woman is worth only a fourth of what the man is worth. I can't accept that. But I grinned and bore it, and put it on the back burner. I manipulated my boyfriend (now husband) into promising he wouldn't ever marry after I died, so I wouldn't have a co-wife. (Sorry, BTW.)

I thought that Heavenly Father really had told Joseph Smith to practice polygamy, for some reason I couldn't comprehend. I even heard about polyandry and figured there must be some divine reason.

Then I read Mormon Enigma. The way Smith lied, manipulated, etc--in order to get sex and exert power--was just too much. No way that came from God. I started to believe polygamy came from nowhere but Joe's horniness, wild ideas, and thirst for power.

And that created a conundrum for me. How in the world could the prophet of God do such a thing? Could he still be prophet after doing that? Was he prophet only before that, and the power got to him, and he screwed up? Could I reject everything he taught after that (like all that weird stuff in the Pearl of Great Price)? My head whirled around and around like that until I read about the Book of Mormon (non)historicity, the Book of Abraham "translation," Smith's mistaking of the Kinderhoek plates as authentic, the evolving theology of the first vision(s), and the priesthood "restoration." The foundational claims of the church? They have no foundation.

And I stopped believing altogether. So polygamy didn't exactly help me stop believing--I did all sorts of mental gymnastics around it--but it was a major factor to help me stop wanting to be a Mormon.

timetable of disblieving and leaving, part 2

Continuing from yesterday's post...

Of all the disaffected, ex-, and former Mormons I've met, none of them followed those paths. None of them left because they were offended by something said in Sacrament meeting (it may have been the last straw to push them from faithful non-believer to non-attender, though). Plenty of them, myself included, were faithful attenders, pray-ers, and scripture-searchers for years, and up to the point of non-believing.

I don't know anyone who was offended and then sought to justify that feeling through reading "anti-Mormon" literature. I do know people became disaffected through their own reasoning and moral compass, and only read the literature later. I also don't know anyone who read the scholarly literature on Mormonism and "believed every word." From what I've seen, many people start reading in an honest and innocent desire to understand Mormonism better, and to be a better Mormon. When I read, I didn't just believe every word. In fact, I disbelieved a great portion of it, denied much of it, ignored a lot of it. I twisted evidence, I manipulated interpretations, I hoped beyond hope that some of the stuff I was reading didn't mean what I feared it meant. And when I finally got past that barrier that wouldn't let me look at it objectively, I read critically. I checked references, I sought corroborating evidence, I followed up with multiple sources, I carefully chose what to read and pointedly avoided anything I thought would be "anti-Mormon."

To help dispel the misconceptions about how Mormons become disaffected, I add my timetable of disbelieving and leaving. My story is just one anecdote in the world of the DAMU; each story is unique, interesting, and valid. We are not easily offended sinners who can't tell a lie from a well-researched argument.

My mental break from the church began in fall 2003 when I read Under the Banner of Heaven, Mormon Enigma, Sunstone, Dialogue, and met real live (in the closet) disaffected Mormon friends. I continued reading, at a slow pace, for the next year or so. My serious mental break started in February/March 2005. I decided I still wanted a temple recommend, as an anchor, and got it honestly and legitimately (though, admittedly, with a little wider interpretations than the interviewers probably expected). Within a week I started reading in earnest, with an open mind. After reading some more books, my belief in the church was gone within weeks.

Immediately after (not before) the loss of belief, I did the the following, in this order.

-stopped reading Mormon scriptures

-stopped paying tithing to the church

-stopped praying, in the Mormon sense

-stopped wearing garments

-stopped going to LDS church services

-resigned from my calling

-tried coffee

-tried alcohol

-shopped on Sunday

-became an atheist

I went from temple-recommend holder to non-believer, non-attender in two months. I never, ever, ever thought it would happen. I used to be as TBM as they come.

the beginning of the end

One of the key moments for me in my exit process was letting myself think, “I can’t give it a fair chance to be true if I don’t give it a fair chance to be false. Mormonism could be wrong.I don’t want it to be, but it could be. Where does the evidence point?” I’d read several books and articles on Mormonism before I came to that realization. But everything I had read I adjusted to fit into “the church is true” paradigm.

The first book I read after that realization was Grant Palmer’s An Insider’s View of Mormon Origins. That was the beginning of the end for me. Once I freed my mind to stop mutilating the evidence, it began to be painfully obvious that the historical record did not make Joseph Smith’s claims look remotely plausible.

Sometime after I read Grant Palmer's book, I wrote down some thoughts about it:

The chapter on the Golden Pot was stretching it a bit. I didn't agree with Palmer's conclusion that Joseph took his story of getting the plates directly from the Golden Pot. But a good "take-home-question" is that Joseph could have easily plagiarized from various sources. It was instructive for me to see how Joseph's story really isn't that original. But the rest of the book is better; that book was key for me to say, "Now, wait a minute, what's up with THAT?"

Big issues for me were the priesthood restoration, the Kinderhoek plates, the Book of Abraham, the First Vision, and the witnesses' testimonies. I hadn't ever read about these issues before. I really wanted to find out more about all of those things, to see if there was more evidence or more explanations out there. I've since read more on the Book of Abraham (By His Own Hand Upon Papyrus), but haven't read much more on the other subjects.

Palmer (or was it other books I read?) argues that some of Smith’s borrowing is blatant, with changes, like quotes from Isaiah in 2 Nephi, and from Matthew in 3 Nephi (the Sermon on the Mount, one-upmanship style). These are obvious to anyone who has read the Bible. The plagiarisms that are less obvious, only because we haven't also read the other books and sources, are stuff that could have come from or been inspired by View of the Hebrews by Ethan Smith (no relation), Spalding, Cowdery, and Rigdon, among others.

Palmer ultimately concludes that the Book of Mormon and Book of Abraham were written (with borrowing and a big imagination) by Joseph Smith. From what I've read, I agree. He does not conclude, though, that we have to "throw away" Mormonism because of that. Some people find there are great lessons in the books that people can learn, just as there are in the Bible, without actually believing that the people lived, the stories really happened, etc. Some people instead take it as a mythology, moral fables, etc.

(I’d rather not take away the lesson that it’s okay to chop someone’s head off because a voice told you to it, though. Or that you can know the truth of something by feeling good about it. Or that atheists are evil. Secret handshakes and all that, though—that is wacked out, just like the Book of Mormon says.)

exit story 11: the last time

The final moment came when I finally visited another church. I had gone to the Mormon service, listened to one talk, but found myself migrating to the hallway to avoid the banal sacrament meeting. I found my husband out there too.

I thought, this is silly. He’s only coming, playing the NOM (faithful non-believing) role, just because I am coming, also as a NOM. A lot of NOMs remain NOM simply because their spouse is faithful. But both of us were non-believers. Why was I there?

I said, “We still have time to catch a UU meeting, it starts at 11:15.” So we went. It was really the first time I had ever been to another church’s worship services.

I was amazed. I actually agreed with things the pastor said. It was actually interesting. It was actually relevant. It was actually uplifting, enlightening, and real. I liked it.

How long had it been since I attended a church service I liked? Had I ever?

I thought, Why am I putting up with the Mormon church if there’s so much greater stuff out there?

And I’ve never been back.

exit story 10: switching paradigms

At that point, I was willing to try out other religions, but still try to evaluate the church at the same time. I had been missing church maybe 2 weeks out of 4 for the past few months, for various excuses.

In the month after I crossed my threshold, I felt liberated sometimes, and damned sometimes. I took off my garments, put them on again, and took them off again. I was panicked that I was making the wrong choice, thought I was definitely going to hell, then calm and at peace. At one moment I thought I hadn’t given the church a good chance, then I was ready to wash my hands of it and all its crap the next.

I concluded that no church was the True Church of God, that all were manmade (with a few women-made ones in there), and that that was okay. Religion wasn’t about being the True Word of God, but was about enlightenment, goodness, social change, worship, inspiration, devotion. I realized Truth was not the yard stick by which to measure religion, and feelings were not the unit by which to evaluate veracity. Even though I believed it was not true, I still had to go through a process of evaluating it on another yard stick—goodness.

All the issues that I had before—and the stuff I chalked up to be culture, or practice, or the imperfections of the members—came back. I disagreed with stances on women, on homosexuals, on race, on worship, on history. I disagreed with how they taught youth, on the demand for conformity, on the demand to deny all doubt, on the micromanaging of people’s lives, on the hours and money wasted on temple work.

If it's the True Church of God, why doesn't it help people in need with homeless shelters, soup kitchens, humanitarian aid that works, and changing society for the better? If Hinckley is really a prophet, why is the best he can come up with is build more temples to waste more of the members time on dead people's names, and to tell girls not to wear 4 earrings? If the church is teaching the Word of God, why does it seem so inane?

So I went to church, but felt physically ill while there. I disagreed with nearly everything said over the pulpit. I looked around at the members, and the only kinship I felt was with ones who were non-believers. Was this my community? Was this worth staying for?

exit story 9: to NOM or not to NOM

Finally I had come to a point where I didn't believe in the church's claims. But I still desperately wanted to believe. I spent a few weeks in an awful back-and-forth struggle trying to decide if I could be NOM--a faithful non-believer. Couldn't I still stay in the church, play the game, be dedicated to the community, keep my parents happy? Not divorce myself from my family and spiritual heritage? Couldn't I just rebuild the building that had crumbled around me, altered, but still Mormon?

I started to evaluate Mormonism from a non-believer's perspective, a religion like any other religion. It had its rituals, its doctrine, its rites of passage, its leadership, etc. Was is so bad to take part?

I went through a series of questions. One had to do with missions. At one point (perhaps it was before I stopped believing completely?) I asked my husband, "Would it be so bad if we continued on? Send our son on a mission, viewing it as a rite of passage, simply so he won't be shunned by the community?" I had never gone on a mission myself.

He answered, "Yes. It would be so bad. Do you have any idea what a mission does to a person? That is the worst possible rite of passage one could possibly go through. It's not worth putting him through that." I imagine he would have called his mission experience a mind rape.

And I knew he was right. I just couldn't put my son through a mission just for the sake of "keeping up appearances." More than that, I couldn't put him through a Mormon childhood at all. From nursery on, the church is indoctrinating children, crunching them into moulds, whether they fit or not. For a few youth, it works. For others, they bend, but their selves are destroyed in the process. Others simply rebel. I couldn't put my child through this. Some churches actually support individual spiritual growth; the Mormon one damages it.

exit story 8: threshold

I remember the moment when it all came crashing down, and I realized I didn’t believe it. I went into work that day, and opened up the Internet. I went to NOM to check real quickly for anything new before settling into work. And I realized I didn’t fit there. All of the sudden, NOM was too faithful for me, too “in” the church. In that one moment, I realized I was a Foyerite. I was “out.” I panicked. I practically hyperventilated, and I couldn’t concentrate on work. I had to write. I wrote an email, marking my change, and sent it only to myself. I had to mark the moment.

The subject line was “threshold.”

“I think I've crossed a threshold. Foyer is more home
to me than NOM. It scares the crap out of me. As I'm
giving up hope, I think there must still be hope there
somewhere, somewhere, I just have to find it. Like I
have to give it a chance. Like a month isn't enough.
Like I can't leave when I've never even been anywhere
else.

I used to be drowning in shallow water.

Now I'm suffocating in thin air.”

Still, though I was “out” is so many ways, I desperately clung to the hope that I was wrong. That somehow, I could salvage everything. That although I was standing in the middle of a pile of ruins of my old paradigm, if I just closed my eyes tight enough, I could pretend that everything was perfectly normal.

As I sat there hyperventilating at work, I didn't fall back on my old way of praying for comfort. I snuck away into an empty room and stood in the tree pose (of yoga) to pull myself together. It helped.

exit story 7: the essential questions

After we both renewed our recommends, I had a conversation with my husband where we concluded that you cannot make an honest inquiry into the truth of something if you start with the assumption that it’s true.

I realized that up to that point, I read everything with a barrier in my mind: “The church is true, but…” Anything I read changed my testimony, but it couldn’t demolish it altogether, because I wouldn’t let anything really challenge it. Everything I read had to somehow fit into “the church is true,” no matter the amount of mental gymnastics I had to perform.

So I re-evaluated my approach, and let myself ask the most important questions:

What if it’s not true? Can it be not true?

Where does the evidence lie?

With a clean slate, without assuming it’s either true or not true, I set to on the library books, and spent more time online. I let the evidence fall where it would. I devoured Palmer’s An Insider’s View of Mormon Origins, and Joseph Smith lost all credibility for me as a translator. I read about the Book of Mormon, and it lost any indication of ancient authenticity. I read about the Book of Abraham, and the Pearl of Great Price was out the window. I read about the development of the temple endowment, and the temple completely lost any last vestiges of truth I had clung to.

Within two weeks, my testimony was gone. My world had shattered.

exit story 6: confusion

About the time of the second journal entry, my husband came home with a big pile of scholarly books on Mormonism he had checked out from the library. He started pouring through them, but I was still scared to touch them.

By that time, my testimony had changed to the point where I was barely clinging to the church. I believed that God was at the helm of the church, but that his involvement was rather minimal, that most of the church was the creation of men (yes, men). I believed that there was something about the church that was different than all other churches, even if I wasn’t sure what. That Joseph Smith had something special, that the church was somehow really from God, even if a lot of the stuff JS did—institute polygamy, for example—was not.

But I was terribly confused. How could Smith be a real prophet of God if he did something so stupid as to institute polygamy, claiming it was from God, to satisfy his own desires for sex and power? And shouldn’t the True Church of God be ahead of society on the Civil Rights Movement, rather than behind?

Still, I had just enough testimony left to want to renew my temple recommend. Get it while I still could, especially since there was still a future temple wedding for a little brother. So I renewed it. When the bishop and stake president asked the belief questions, I simply said, “Yes” and left the qualifying statements in my mind. They didn’t need to know my doubts, because I was working through them and trying to resolve them. I did still believe in the church.

Do you believe in the restored Gospel? “Yes,” somehow JS had something special, even if he got power-hungry later.

Do you believe the Book of Mormon is the word of God? “Yes,” even if it’s not maybe an actual historical account.

Do you sustain the prophet Hinckley? “Yes,” even if he doesn’t actually receive revelation.

It shows my desperation, and the amazing ability to "double-think."

exit story 5: journal entry 2

The next time I mentioned my doubts in my journal, it was more than two months after the first time. In the interim, a lot had happened in my life, so those things had consumed me. Shortly after the first entry, I found out I was pregnant, then I miscarried.

This is why I mention such a personal detail: I was asked to give a talk in church, and even though I started bleeding that morning, I still gave the talk. I had a miscarriage while I gave a talk in church. How messed up is that? What power the church had over me that I couldn't say, “Forget it, Bishop, BS your own way through those few minutes in sacrament meeting, I'm sick.” It makes me ill to remember that I thought that was okay.

Here's the journal entry:

“I joined an online forum/message board [NOM] for Mormons—liberal or doubting or inactive, or ex-Mormons. All kinds except the hard-liners. To find community. To find others like us, with questions, but want to remain Mormon.

I dreamt last night that I told my mom how I’m questioning, how I’ve changed. I dreamt she took the news really well, very open-minded and open-hearted. I don’t think reality would match.

I believe in God and Christ. I really, really want to believe in the gospel of the Mormon church, The Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith. No, I believe the restoration of the priesthood, lots of stuff. I just have trouble with the B. of Mormon right now. It teaches good things. But is it authentic? Was Nephi a real person? If it’s fiction, it’s different. Sure, my life can be touched—even profoundly—by fiction, but NOT by fiction that claims to be true. The Church rests so much on its truth. But lately when I read it, I can’t help thinking, “Joseph Smith…Joseph Smith.” Before, I could appreciate the Book for what it was—an ancient account of peoples and prophets and prophesies and acts of God. I liked it that way. Now I can’t get through a chapter without worrying about historicity. And I hate that.

Joseph did some wonderful things. He also did some stupid, terrible things. Why would God choose a prophet like that? Some people say it comforts them to know that God can work with such imperfect people. It does not comfort me. I don’t need a prophet to be perfect, but I do expect him to be decent.

But then, maybe it was the power that changed (corrupted?) Joseph. He was a good, decent guy when God called him. Then things went to his heard and he decided he could “marry” 40+ women.

I don’t know. I don’t know.

Now the best book of scripture to me is the Bible. It used to be the worst, the most difficult, the least familiar. Now I can read the Old Testament as what historians call mythology (not necessarily false, but definitely stories that teach a society’s roots and values), and I’m comfortable with that. I’m not comfortable with the B. of Mormon as mythology. And D&C—I wonder what is from God and what is from Joseph.

All this sounds much worse, I think, than I really am. I just have questions. Questions more than doubts. Big questions.

How will I answer them? The scriptures? The Spirit? Logic and study? I don’t think any of them will answer to my satisfaction right now.”

The next time I wrote about Mormonism, I was a church-attending, non-believier, though still a little in denial. The next time I wrote, I hadn't been to church in a couple months. I'm rather mad at myself for not writing more during that time. I've lost so much of my thought process.

exit story 4: journal

Okay, so I wanted to post just once day, but I can't this stuff out fast enough. Posting is cleansing, and there are lots of things I have to talk about besides my exit story--which is long enough, and still has several more posts. So here's the next installment:

After about a year of reading, I realized things had changed. While I was still a faithful member, I had serious doubts. I retained hope that I could be able to resolve those doubts; that somehow, this would all make me a better member in the end.

I went back through my journal the other day, and found what I think is the first time I ever committed my doubts to paper. During the months before then, I just couldn't write it down. I thought I would get through it all, and any doubts I had in the past would just be embarrassing or not faith-promoting to any future progeny that might read my journal. But finally, things had come far enough that I had to write it. I wasn't talking to anyone about this, and my thoughts were swirling around fast enough to make me dizzy. I had to get it out. Looking back at it, I can see how very desperate and confused I was:

“Sunday, 2004. Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in shallow water. Have I used this metaphor before? I mean I'm losing touch with my spirituality. I find little comfort in the church these days. Or, indeed, in the Gospel, since I find myself so suspicious of where we get the Gospel--the scriptures, the Brethren, the Church. I've become more critical--and that's good. But I find myself criticizing too much. So much that I rarely get anything good out of church or reading stuff from the church. Deep down, I believe. I believe in God and Christ and his Gospel. And I believe the Mormon church has something that other churches don't. Something essential.

But, but, but.

Maybe that is enough testimony for now. Enough to survive on. But doubts chip-chip-chip away. I'm the one chipping away, though. Why don't I stop? Why?

I don't want to go back to where I came from--ignorant bliss. Is there somewhere else? Knowledgeable bliss? Not everyone who is happy is ignorant. They find comfort in God. Why don't I? How valuable is this knowledge anyway? Is it worth drowning (in shallow water) over? Is it so important?

'Intellect can strengthen spirituality and spirituality can strengthen intellect,' I heard in church today. How?

I haven't been reading the Book of Mormon lately--not very often, for months now. Is neglecting that really creating such a drought of spiritual confidence? Is that such a big deal? When I do read, I find little comfort. I can't help being suspicious of its origins. 'By their fruits you shall know them' is a bunch of crap if the book is a fraud. I still believe it. I want to believe in it. How am I to improve that? Read only that, and leave all 'extracurricular' writings (stuff not produced by the church) alone? Just be more selective. Read the other stuff with guidance. Pray about it all.

Pray. Will it be answered?

I used to feel the Spirit all the time. Help Mom find her lost check book. Remember where I left my keys. Get comfort whenever I needed it. Comfort. Lots of it. Now what do I get? Nothing. Is that because my actions have warranted a loss of that spiritual gift (is a struggle of faith enough to warrant that?), or is it because I felt what I was taught to feel, and I found comfort in believing something that wasn’t really there? Just believing in something bigger than me was enough to bring comfort when I asked for it? Is that all religion really is? Do I feel uncomfortable now because of loss of spirit or loss of ignorant bliss?

I’ve heard that analogy where the Spirit is like a radio—you have to be tuned to the right channel. Or, rather, you are the radio, and the Spirit is the signal. And is always signaling, whether you are listening or not. I just let the dial slip; I can’t figure out why all I get is static now. It’s not that the Spirit isn’t there, trying to communicate with me, it’s that I’m not attuned to it anymore. So just tune it back. That simple.

If only.

Pain is a part of the spiritual journey. But isn’t happiness too? Am I a dwarf in The Last Battle by CS Lewis—seeing a smelly, dark barn while really surrounded by a beautiful meadow paradise?”

(To which I now answer, yes, but not in the way I thought then.)

exit story 3: reading

I spent the next year or so reading Sunstone, Dialogue, and the occasional book on Mormonism. Hadn’t touched the Internet—that stuff was just anti- in my mind. You don’t know what you could stumble on. (Like this blog.)

Through this, I was really open about my new-found knowledge. I discussed articles about Mormon history with a faithful Mormon friend, an article about a gay Mormon with family, even brought up an issue or two in Sunday School. I didn’t consider any of this stuff at odds with being a faithful, believing member. I wanted this stuff talked about more in church. Why not? I thought. Openness about the truth could only serve the church for the better, right? If it’s the True Church, how could the truth hurt it?

But I also realized that some of the articles were profoundly changing my testimony. Anything I read about Joseph Smith brought him down a notch in prophethood. Anything I read about the Book of Mormon made me question it a little more. So I avoided those topics like the plague. I stuck with contemporary issues—women and priesthood, Mormonism and homosexuality, personal stories of belief—some history—polygamy, Emma Smith, 19^th century Utah—and some Bible studies—authorship, women.

I read only sporadically, because I realized, though I couldn’t admit it out loud, that my beliefs were changing. I could only handle so much at a time. I would read a few articles, then not touch Sunstone for a couple months. Then it would draw me in again. My husband was also reading throughout this time, but we rarely talked to each other about it. Talking about it would make it real.

Once I asked him, “Doesn’t reading that stuff change your view of Joseph Smith?” I asked it like it was a bad thing, because to me it was.

He answered simply, “Yes.” The implication was, “and I’m going to keep reading it, too.”

At one point, near the beginning, we talked about it, and agreed that "going inactive" was a really bad idea, whatever our troubles with the church.

exit story 2: under the banner of heaven

Some of the stuff I read, though, scared me to death. One of the first things I read was Under the Banner of Heaven. This I now consider outside the realm of Mormon scholarship, it’s even maybe a little anti-Mormon. (As a friend pointed out, if this book had been written about a couple of Jewish murderers and how Judaism influenced their ability to murder two innocent people, wouldn’t it be considered anti-Semitic? But it’s still okay to pick on Mormons and not have anyone call you on it.)

The book was recommended by a friend, who had no idea that this was the first book I was ever to read that presented Joseph Smith in a light other than that sanctioned by the church. I was annoyed when the author told about Smith using a hat to dictate the Book of Mormon. I stopped reading and told my husband, “This author’s got his facts messed up. Where did he get this information? Using a stone and a hat?” If I had been a swearing person at the time, I would have most definitely said, WTF?!?!?

My husband turned to me with a sympathetic look and said, “No, actually that stuff is true. There are lots of contemporary sources to back that up.”

I was shocked, astounded, appalled, confused, and scared. Welcome to my first real cognitive dissonance. Of course, at the time, I didn’t characterize it as that. Instead, I characterized it as “the Spirit left the room.” This was a bad book.

I kept reading, but the book just had worse and worse things to say about Joseph. With my heart pounding, my ears flushed, my thoughts racing around, I closed the book. I couldn’t continue.

But I had to. Knowing was better than remaining in ignorant bliss. I couldn’t just pretend it wasn’t there. I pushed through to the end of the book, and I had a whole slew of questions.

I tried to approach my friends about it, but they didn’t want to talk about what I wanted to talk about. To them, it was all old news. When they realized it was brand new to me, they fell into what I think was a silent guilt. Later, I realized their silence said, “Oh no, we introduced from the ashes to the biggest challenge of her life. And who knows how she’ll handle it.”

exit story 1: new friends, new ideas

After my husband I both finished college (yes, I did get more than just an Mrs. degree), we moved out of Utah. This was my first time living outside the Mormon Corridor since I’d been too little to remember. I immediately clung to my new ward, meeting other young Mormon couples, going to church weekly, and attending church activities. Insta-community. I suddenly had lots of friends.

Most of them, I would later discover, were friends with me only because of Mormonism. Once I stopped attending the ward, we stopped hanging out. Most of that was just because I didn’t attend ward functions anymore, so I didn’t see them as much. But some of them actually shunned me. Whether they just didn’t know how to act around an “inactive” family, or they consciously wanted to distance themselves from the evil we exuded, I don’t know.

Some of the friends I made in this insta-community were not the typical faithful Mormons fresh out of Utah. Some of them were what the internet community calls new order Mormons, or faithful non-believers, though I didn’t realize it at the time. I was drawn to them, and we began to discuss things we didn’t discuss in Sunday School.

Through them, I discovered Sunstone, Dialogue, and scholarly books on Mormonism. I had no idea such things existed. In my Utah mind, there was stuff-published-by-the-church and anti-Mormon literature. Plain and simply, black and white division. And don’t even think about touching the anti- stuff. That’s just a bunch of lies that’ll send you straight to apostasy.

But when I started reading the scholarly materials, I realized my perceived dichotomy, one the church had encouraged, was just wrong. I loved to talk about things I never could talk about before—changing church policy on birth control, women giving blessings in the 19^th century, the struggles gay Mormons faced, the myth of Joseph’s mantle falling on Brigham Young.

I developed a faithful desire to delve more deeply into Mormon doctrine, history, and culture in order to understand my faith better. I began this new journey in the honest belief that I would become a better Mormon.