Trying to Make it Work

Forgive the length.

I’m somewhat surprised to find myself typing this intro; I thought I was mentally and spiritually finished with Mormonism.

I just listened to Part 5 of the Mormon Stories interview with Jared Anderson. It sparked something in me; some hope that maybe I can carve out a niche for myself in the church and forgo the obvious heartache to loved ones that my departure from it would cause.

But I need help. I need the wisdom of others who have been successful navigating remaining Mormonism after a faith crisis. I need to be able express my frustrations and concerns.

I know some of the participants I see here from another online forum (both current and former participants on that other forum). So, with trust that people like Brian, Tom, and Ray (and possibly others) wouldn’t be involved in a nasty endeavor, here I go on StayLDS.

So, about me.

I’m 31, happily married, father of two beautiful young girls. I grew up in the church in the heart of Salt Lake, with apostles, presiding bishops, and even a first presidency member on both my paternal and maternal lines. Though I come from devout stock, my upbringing was faithful and orthodox without being dogmatic.

Like all good Mormon boys, I served a mission. I was well “prepared” – I’d graduated from seminary, being pretty observant when it came to the WoW and chastity, avoided trouble, and had read the Book of Mormon 4 or 5 times before entering the MTC.

In addition to suffering a severe depressive spell on my mission, I soon encountered very good questions on my mission, and allowed myself to ask some that I’d suppressed prior to serving. In addition to these questions, I was surprised that so many Christians had such deep and seemingly meaningful relationships with God. They spoke of Jesus with a familiarity that I’d never heard in Mormondom. At some point on my mission, I allowed myself to think, “it’s not true.”

Despite the many difficulties, I finished my mission honorably, served in some leadership positions, and had some good experiences. On net, however, it wasn’t a great experience. I could not in good conscience recommend anyone go on a mission.

I came home with issues to deal with and questions to answer. As I attempted to find answers and explanations, more questions arose. At the same time, I was realizing that I was a liberal, politically and theologically. I’m just wired that way. As such, I felt increasingly out-of-place and even unwelcome at my local ward and in the broader church. Within a year of returning, I was convinced that the church was not what it claimed to be, and that the historical narrative the church told was woefully incomplete at best, and a total fabrication at worst.

Some “wilderness” years followed. I had lost all faith; I gave up many friendships and family relationships for fear of being rejected; having lost the moral guidance of Mormonism, I was rudderless. Then I met a wonderful, beautiful girl at school. She saw past my rebellion, anger, and sadness, and we began dating. Soon, I was in love. She wanted to go on a mission, and of course wanted to get married in the temple. Her mission, she thought, would give me ample time to prepare myself for the temple and church activity.

I made a few half-hearted efforts while she was gone, but they didn’t take. She came home, saw that I hadn’t progressed, and delivered an ultimatum. Around this time, I discovered Mormon Stories, which, in it’s early days, made me think that I could find a way to be active despite being a non-literal believer. I began reading the Book of Mormon again, and had a regenerative spiritual experience when reading about Alma the Younger. At that point, I decided that even if the BoM was not a historical document, it contained truths; it preached a God that I could believe in and that frankly, I needed.

So, I began working towards a temple recommend, and in relatively short order, had one. Within 7 months of my spiritual experience, my wife and I were married in the temple.

My life in the church went pretty well for the following three years or so; we both finished grad school and had our first child. I had some hiccups every now and them (Prop 8, Julie Beck’s “Mothers Who Know” talk), but also had wonderful experiences. KBYU aired a broadcast of the celebration of the revelation lifting the priesthood ban in May 2008. I was deeply moved by the faith and testimonies of African-American saints who’d waited and endured and by those who’d experienced some of the ban’s negative reverberations, post-revelation. We had a wonderful bishop who called us to teach an alternative Sunday school class on church history. We basically used Rough Stone Rolling as our manual and had some very frank conversations in class about the translation of the BoM, polygamy, and other controversial issues. (The class ended with the shifting of ward boundaries, moving us into another ward.)

About a year ago, after relocating for a job and finding ourselves in a new ward, and while adjusting to having another little girl join our family, I began to experience some spiritual tension that I hadn’t felt in years. I was teaching Gospel Principles, and while I loved the opportunity to be the first exposure to the institutional church for many seekers, I found the manual increasingly difficult to rely on. Doctrines are presented in such a literal, almost fundamentalist way that I had to be very careful in how I presented the material so as to feel comfortable with what I was saying but not straying too far afield. Cultural issues (the treatment of women and young women in curricula and in practice; the politically conservative nature of the church, the lack of emphasis on the social justice aspect of Jesus’ message and the message of the BoM, the City Creek Center development, etc.) began to bother me more and more. In short, the good that I found in the church of community, fellowship, and a place to practice Christian love, was being completely overshadowed by my biggest concerns and stumbling blocks.

Even while facing this tension in my relationship to the church, I continued exploring spirituality. I began reading books on biblical interpretation, Christian history, and Christian living from a more theologically liberal perspective at a voracious pace. I convinced my wife to attend the services of other churches in our area. The first one we attended was the United Methodist Church in our area, and we both enjoyed it immensely. We began attending their services about twice a month. I felt (and continue to feel) that I hear the good news of Christ preached there, without so much of the weird cultural baggage Mormonism has experienced. There is no discussion of temple attendance or of obedience or following the prophets; week in and week out, the message has been about God’s love for humanity, us personally, our need to emulate Christ and to live as disciples. I should note that this was around the same time as General Conference last October; President Packer’s certainly contributed to this vast dichotomy I saw between the messages of the LDS church and that of mainstream, or at least the more theologically liberal strains of mainstream Christianity.

Like Joseph, “In process of time, my mind became somewhat partial to the Methodist sect, and I felt some desire to be united with them…” But rather than the strife and contention of the various sects preventing me from joining up with them, it is the potential conflict and strife in my dearest relationships that prevents me from leaving, either formally or informally, Mormonism.

I recognize the good in Mormonism – both the doctrine and institution itself; but I seem more and more aware of the negatives. At the same time, I am perhaps viewing mainstream Christianity through rose-colored glasses, and am experiencing a bit of “the grass is greener…” syndrome. This has become all-consuming. I spend my free time listening to podcasts (those from a Christian perspective and those from a mostly disaffected Mormon perspective) and reading more books on Christian spiritual formation and the New Testament.

Still with me?

So, I’ve felt stuck. I feel that I hear God’s message elsewhere, in another tradition, a spiritual balm that I’ve longed for. And yet every relationship I value would suffer if I were to “follow my bliss.” I’ve had hopes and visions before of being able to practice Christianity – that is, non-judgmental love and kindness – within the church, but I find myself so distracted by some teachings and many cultural aspects.

A long, emotional conversation with my wife last night made me want to make things work with the church; the aforementioned podcast gave me some hope that it might even be possible.

So I seek your friendship, encouragement, and wisdom.