Use the Fourth

Remember in my initial post about how I struggled for several years after a family member said something that deeply hurt? Well, it started out with one struggle and it eventually grew into a host of painful issues for me. To be specific: I couldn't understand or accept the injustice of blacks and the priesthood, or the reconciliation of homosexuality and our traditional family church. These things began to eat away at me. Thoughts on these topics were in a constant replay cycle in my head. They just made me more and more upset. Of course I went to that bastion of reliable information, the internet, to find evidence that my indignation was justified. When I showed up at church, I wasn't expecting a good experience, I was simply there to survive.

I told myself the reason I felt so bad was because I had taken upon myself a glorious burden to get to the bottom of these issues, to fight for the underdog, and seek justice for all. I was a modern Mormon superhero of sorts. -- Even a Colombo of Church history. I was getting to the bottom of things while everyone else slept in ignorance!

These sorts of feelings put a wedge between oneself and the officiators of Church business. These feelings can quickly demonize Church leaders, leading one to believe they are the barrier to progress instead of the channels through which progress can be achieved. The vapors of these sentiments billowed around me and I remember feeling uncomfortable sitting next to members of the bishopric and stake presidency the Sunday I was asked to give a talk in my previous ward.

That's when it happened. A big slice of humble pie landed on my plate.

I looked out into the audience from where I sat and three people who have always taken the brunt of Church policies, far worse than me. Yet they were there, meek and lowly of heart. 

Their perfect faith overwhelmed me.

If they can show up Sunday after Sunday, why the heck was I moping around like a martyr?

While I didn't come to a happy conclusion about the aforementioned issues in that moment, I felt the need to regroup and reassess. I was, after all, still committed to improving conditions in the church, but now I wanted to honor the faithfulness of those being affected by disparities in the process.

I was able to gain more perspective on this when I was confronted with women's issues in the Church. I'll get right to it: When I learned that there were women championing the cause of Mormon feminists by seeking female ordination I was taken aback. This method was off-putting to me. I wanted improved conditions for women, yes, but not by this method*.

I found myself conflicted because, on the one hand, I couldn't align myself with a group that sought to make a spectacle of my religion; on the other hand, I couldn't deny that some good was coming out of the open forums of debate. I poured through the commentary and learned a lot. The areas for improvement that I had observed were clearly noticed by others, too. Ultimately, my conclusions were this:

1) The participants in these Mormon grass-roots movements generally have good intentions. Their pain is real. We should mourn with those that mourn.
2) But they don't represent me, and they don't represent most Mormon women.
3) They say there's "no other way," except through public pressure and unflinching demands.
4) I say that there is another way. I say we can enact change, but in a more Christ-like way.

Now it's about proving #4, isn't it? This is a time in which we take what good has come from our discussion and push forward with both faith and charity. (Easier said than done, I know.)

How's that going for me? I'll tell you!

Some time ago I was in a Young Women's class and the teacher gave a lesson on modesty using the "licked cupcake method." She suggested that girls who transgressed the laws of chastity were no better than used baked goods. There was a member of the bishopric in the class and he said nothing. I was upset.

Almost everything I read online in feminists circles about working through the proper channels painted that process as treacherous at best. It follows that I was hesitant to even bring up the topic of women's issues in my ward, but found the courage to discuss the cupcake incident with the YW president. She took it seriously and advised me to talk to a member of the bishopric. At this point, it would have been easier to write one of those anonymous "Dear Bishop" blog posts you see going around. -- These are the ones that outline every concern and complaint one might have about her ward (ironically, I don't think the bishops see these**). I could have done that in lieu of a face-to-face encounter, but #4 demands otherwise.

So on one fateful Sunday I approached the same member of the bishopric who was present for the cupcake debacle and told him I needed to meet with him then and there. I didn't sugar coat anything and I got right into it. (Such is my nature.) I demanded answers: "Why didn't you do  anything?" I demanded solutions, a treatment plan of sorts. (I wasn't mean about it, but very businesslike.) And what was the response?

Lackluster. It was clear he just didn't understand. And though he didn't mean it, his plan to "fix" things felt more like a pat on the head.

Those vapors of indignation, the same ones I expressed at the very beginning of this very long post came back and surrounded me. All the negativity I had picked up from countless bad experiences retold online settled in. I was about to take that indignation and use it as fuel to champion my cause, my way. . . But between the waves of contention about to crash upon me was a quiet plea to try again. I needed to help this man understand me so that he could serve me, but I needed to do it the Lord's way. I made a choice right then and there not to drown out the Spirit. I tuned my ears, as it were, and what came out of my mouth after that surprised both of us.

I calmly told him he missed the point of what I was saying. And then through sheer inspiration I said something that resonated with him and he looked as if someone had shaken him. With understanding in his eyes, he saw the damage being caused by lessons like the "licked cupcake" and began to feel the pain resulting from it, too. He said, "We have to do something."

And we are. Slowly but surely we're going to make some changes. #4 is rockin' it.

The few times I have told people about this progress it was suggested that I simply "got lucky." I found a "good one." -- But if I hadn't sought revelation, wouldn't I have ended up with my own "Dear Bishop" post? Sure, in this church led by imperfect men, there will be some who approach their bishops and have good experiences and others who feel rejected and misunderstood. This is where grace comes in. The gaps of understanding can be filled in, but it requires patience, listening, and speaking with inspiration. This won't happen when bishops are merely informed of what someone has already settled in his/her mind. Instead, the process is more shoulder to shoulder. It is humble.

I still don't have all the answers regarding the issues that stir me up, but I'll always remember the examples of faith that inspire me to go on. I've made a resolution to seek a better understanding of others, and to peacefully make my/our positions understood, as well. Call me crazy, but I think this is going to work.

*Why don't I seek female ordination? Good question. I'll get to that later.
**UPDATE: Turns out at least one of these Dear Bishop posts made it to the desk of an actual bishop and guess what! #4, baby.

Because I Have Been Given Much

Right now people are hurting. They are hurting because those to whom they looked up, found comfort, and saw examples of heroism are seemingly being rejected by their church.

Somehow all of this leaves me feeling guilty. I feel guilty because while I did my best to mourn with those who mourned, I didn’t share the anchor of hope that has given me a sense of calm in the current storm. I hope to remedy that right now.

Like anyone else, I have my questions and concerns regarding the Church, its history, and some of its more esoteric doctrine. There have been issues that have brought me to my knees, not just in prayer, but because they have felt like kicks to my gut. Aside from the acute pain associated with them, I also suffered from a nagging feeling of embarrassment from having aligned myself with a religion that could cause me to feel this way.

There was a time in my life when I dealt with daily emotional turmoil from an issue I had with Church doctrine. This issue had always been on the surface of things that made me feel uncomfortable, but when a family member made a hurtful comment towards me regarding it (I happened to be at my most vulnerable when this happened), my qualms began to fester. The pain was indescribable. –More important, the pain was real. I took the natural course of action: I read the scriptures, prayed, fasted, and even met with church leaders on the matter. Those things brought comfort, but it wasn’t enduring. My husband, seeing my suffering, began to ask around about what to do. One day he came home and told me that he learned something that he thought would be most useful to me. He said he spoke with a lady in our ward who had similar concerns and had them resolved. Great! I thought. Tell me how she did it! I asked. “She was washing dishes,” he said. That was it. She had taken it to the Lord, didn’t receive her answer right away, and then one day while she was at the sink a sense of peace and calm came to her. I found this answer highly unsatisfying.

So I suffered.

I spent YEARS agonizing over this one issue until one day, for whatever reason, God dropped a pearl of wisdom from the heavens and it illuminated my mind. I found a verse, a single verse of scripture that I had read several times before, and this time it opened the flood gates of hope for me. Aha! I thought, so this is how it works: You suffer, and suffer, and suffer, and then maybe God gives you the answer!

I accepted that “fact” and was happy to move on with my life.  I also vowed to avoid “hang-ups,” issues that would drag me down and consume too much of my life again, but of course that’s not how life works.

Women’s equality, political diversity, and social justice have been at the forefront of Mormon theology lately. You can’t avoid the issues, and frankly I’m the type of person who likes to get into these discussions. Naturally issues came up, questions were raised. With this as a backdrop, another significant thing occurred in my life: I came down with a chronic illness. More questions arose from that. Finally, as a  pièce de résistance, my husband and I had what could best be called a “falling out” with our ward family. In total, this was a difficult and complex time to say the least.

I had always told myself that abandoning my religion was never an option for one reason: I felt the Holy Ghost during a missionary discussion. The veracity of the Gospel was confirmed and I can never deny it. Period. Ad infinitum. Thus it was a frightening discovery for me to learn that there are plenty of people who leave Mormonism who DO know the Church is true! It begged the question, how was I to move forward with my life when this religion felt like a daily inconvenient truth?

I expected to suffer, sufferer, suffer, and maybe I’d get another pearl of wisdom. That is, after all, what I had concluded earlier.

So I pushed forward. And I wasn’t happy. –That is until a few small steps began to accumulate and a snowball effect occurred.

With my illness I found that journaling helped to make sense of my symptoms (giving them a timeline) and also allowed me to get things off my chest. So long as I was journaling, I thought I might as well read my scriptures and include some insights from that along the way. –I admit it, my intent was to leave behind a journal so pious my posterity would think me a righteous woman.– As I read, I had thoughts come to mind that I felt would be helpful in better understanding the temple. Ah, yes, the temple, a place where I could get away from ward drama and be alone in my thoughts! So, I started going every week. Wednesday mornings became my time and I was usually the only patron there.  

This combination, humility (I can’t take credit, it was forced upon me through illness), daily scripture reading, reflection, and regular temple attendance. . . I want to write something as boorish as “OMG,” because really, it’s as if the clouds of Heaven opened and showers of pearls, gems, and gold are pouring out on me. The insight that I’ve had, the reassurances given to me, the outpouring of love from Heavenly Father, I’m swimming in all of it. I’ve had my “at the sink’” moment and more. On top of that (as if that weren’t enough), I’ve also had solid answers given to me about some very tricky issues. Yes, I have had some problems solved absolutely. 

This brings me back to my guilt.

I’m seeing people I care about, some of them my closest friends, going down for the count with regards to their Church activity, even membership. In the most extreme case, I went to the temple and saw Adam and Eve appear as two of my friends (a married couple) while Satan tempted them to apostatize. Two days later, the husband informed me they were both going inactive.

I also see other Church members trying to lift up those who are stumbling right now, but not infrequently these attempts unintentionally do even more damage.  For examples: Telling women who have wrestled with the issue of gender-specific ordination for years that they just don’t understand the doctrine, or need to humble themselves. Trying to “cheer up” homosexuals by saying they’re just like single straight members. Admonishing democrats to change their ways (and voter registration). I could go on.

So while I’m swimming in sunshine, these my dear brothers and sisters are wading in sadness and regret. Moreover, so many members of the Church will not even acknowledge that suffering. They see them only as giddy agitators, and have expressed relief when they stop showing up on Sundays.

How do I share the sunshine?

What has made my recent experience so different from my earlier attempts to find peace?

In each case I've described, I eventually received answers that brought me comfort, but the key difference this time around is that that even prior to those revelations I had peace. Recently I had some "but if not" moment(s) and did not feel alone.

What made the difference is Gratitude. In my earlier struggles, I missed the life I had before I carried the "burden" of the Gospel. I had made many sacrifices during my conversion and my quest to get married in the temple came at a high price in terms of treasured relationships. I cannot say that I was deeply thankful for the tradeoff. Despite “doing all the right things,” like Lot’s wife I looked back. This time around, I feel like everything has been stripped away from me so that all I can do is look up: If I wake up not in pain, I’m thankful. If I still have friends, I’m so appreciative. When I can eat regular food, I'm ecstatic. (My gratitude is the byproduct of working through disease, clearly it doesn't have to be this way for everyone else.)

The gift of gratitude fuels my interactions with God and His Church, and helps me to go on. Because the Church WILL still go on, of course. Its members will continue to be imperfect, questionable things will be done, but the ordinances and promises remain the same. The fork in the road at which we now find ourselves is obvious: Let go or hold on. If you’re still holding on by the skin of your teeth, the key is to have hope that there is a future in this Church that includes happiness for you. You can tap into that hope by findings things in the Gospel for which you can be grateful. Once you develop hope, your burdens will be cast at the Savior’s feet, and He will carry you home. That road home might not make much sense right now, but PLEASE take comfort in knowing that while we don’t know the meaning of all things, we do know that God loves His children (1Ne11:17). All of them.