Being a member of the LDS church is living as a member in a worldwide community. No matter where you go, you find members with an immediate connection of established values. Those members become your resource for friendships and relationships. They become a network for your children to befriend. A “safe” house you feel comfortable having your children frequent. And a safe community for your family to live in. It is very well organized, systematic, and efficient.
It also provides a sense of security and belonging.
When we went to church as children, we went to the LDS church. My mother was a member. My father was not. We received attention from missionaries, visiting teachers, and home teachers. And when we went to church, we walked in wearing matching dresses and Easter Sunday bonnets. As teenagers, we occasionally went to Mutual, a midweek evening meeting. My father, ironically, insisted we attend early morning seminary. This is a class where a book of scripture is studied each year. It was also another place for social interaction with church members from all over the city. I acquired church friends who attended different high schools, and we occasionally socialized. A diversity of friends is always a good idea. Was I aware that these church families found us to be a worthwhile fellowship project? I would say yes.
However, my mother didn’t follow many of the community rules. She was a social drinker, and before she was pregnant with me and my sisters, she smoked. She swore. And, on occasion, gambled in Lake Tahoe. We did not adhere to Sunday rules of sabbath observance. We played, worked, and shopped. She was not a stay-at-home mom. She worked.
Other differences included a diversity of friends. One of my friends was the daughter of a fellow employee of my mother’s. Their religion was unknown. Our family had a best friend family in another town who were Catholics. My girlfriend and I went to mass on Sunday when I slept over on Saturday nights. My sister’s good friend was Jewish; she would occasionally attend their temple service. The point is that we had a diverse set of friends. It is what I knew, and I thought it was normal.
It was a little disturbing for my family and friends when I got engaged to an LDS guy, and we planned our temple wedding. At the time, church leaders counseled engaged couples that the temple ceremony should be the intention for all marriages. A civil ceremony was discouraged. It would overshadow the sacred temple ceremony, which would be disrespectful. I dared not question this counsel or church leaders over this established practice. It was presented almost like a commandment. I complied, not understanding that consideration and choice should trump policy and procedure. I felt like a stranger at my wedding, with only two temple-worthy people coming on my behalf.
When my children grew up, it was my family from which I felt alienated. And I am sure they didn’t feel all that comfortable around us. They drank alcohol. They skied on Sundays. They played with face cards. They occasionally gambled. They swore and told off-colored jokes. When we attended any of my family functions, we observed LDS standards so our children would learn to be courageous in the face of adversity. I did not want to believe that our lifestyle was oppressive or a righteous statement to my extended family, but it was worse than oppressive. It was covertly judgy and thoughtless.
Through the years, I missed out on important life events. I missed my once-deep family bonds with my sisters and parents. You can’t have quality without quantity. And you can’t feel comfortable if you don’t spend time as you grow, change, and share the struggles and joys of life.
Instead, our extended family bonds were focused on my husband’s multi-generational LDS heritage. They were from pioneer stock. Their traditions and norms were deeply entwined in the LDS culture. They were special and if you don’t believe me, ask them. There were moments when I felt I had diluted or even tainted their family’s bloodline. How lucky I was to marry into such a family of stalwarts. I had a lot to learn and to live up to. I learned how to bottle our food. I learned wearing shorts was unacceptable. I learned that you should never be alone with another man, even an uncle. I learned about daily scripture study and prayer. I learned that to fit in, you had to conform. I failed, but I did not fail to try.
Was it a choice to spend more time with my husband’s family? Yes. They were members of the church. They were part of the community. Would we feel closer to my family if we had spent as much time with them as we had with his family? Yes, I am sure of it. Forty years later and still hundreds of miles apart, I feel the loss of memories and relationships.
When we were first married, we moved to a new area. As I assimilated, I was frustrated that our interactions were solely isolated to church activities. I was told that the church organizes our social lives. If people outside the church wanted to socialize, we could invite them to our socials. We were counseled not to engage in activities where standards and behaviors differ from those of the church. The exception was business. The men had business acquaintances with whom they occasionally interacted and enjoyed friendships, but we never interacted with them as couples or families. Several times, when LDS values and business practices conflicted, business practices ruled the day. “Business is business, and the church is the church. Don’t mix them,” I was told, and I often witnessed or was the victim of this skewed sense of ethics.
It was challenging to associate with people who might behave contrary to established church standards. Being around people who drank or smoked was uncomfortable. Their behavior and loud laughter were unacceptable. And to be honest, some members secretly drank, smoked, had affairs, or had illegal business dealings. I was ignorant of this until years later, but many were not. Tolerance was practiced for established church members as a form of fellowship.
Staying within the circle felt safe and non-threatening. One felt comfortable letting one’s hair down around other members, swearing, gossiping, or watching R-rated movies. Some played basketball or watched TV on Sundays; these practices were traditionally and historically frowned upon. These behaviors would never occur with non-members. Being an example was paramount.
I was an active member of the church for 40 years. I accepted every calling and did my best to follow the rules. I raised my children in the church and worked in the temple. I am married to a Bishop because once a Bishop always a Bishop. He carried church members’ secrets and still does. What a heavy burden. That is another story. He is a good man. How do I know? Because he did not want to be the Bishop. It was a calling he did not seek, like, or enjoy. And neither did I. And many community members were unhappy with his calling and, by extension, my non-calling as the wife of the Bishop. With four children, I was focused on them, not the “ward” family. Some tried actually to teach me how to be a Bishop’s wife. My husband was quite clear. This was his calling, not mine. He did not want me telling him how to manage his calling. I was grateful because I didn’t want to be the Bishop’s wife. And my kids didn’t want to be the Bishop’s kids.
After some severe life events, I had a crisis of faith. I began to do an internal investigation and examine previously ignored inconsistencies. I asked questions, pondered, and prayed about the validity of the church or any religion. The church prided itself on providing answers. Where did we come from? What is our purpose in life? What happens after we die? They had all the answers wrapped with a lovely white bow. Unfortunately, it didn’t make sense when I courageously chose to look inside.
To qualify for membership and receive a temple recommend, one had to prove continued compliance and active participation. You must attend weekly church services, partake of the sacrament, bear testimony, read scripture daily, tithe, wear garments, and bear allegiance to God, the church, and Joseph Smith’s story. If endowed (temple attendance), you were to attend the temple if within proximity to your home, at least once a month for further instruction. If you didn’t live close to a temple, members looked forward to temple excursions. These practices are mandatory for members and vital to the LDS community.
In return, members are told they would qualify for an earned special heavenly space with God. They would receive answers, purpose, reassurance, and direction. Not surprisingly, most humans need to be needed. The LDS church creates endless opportunities to meet this need. Their structure feeds the beast of special. Those with hidden or not-so-hidden desires for leadership and influence manifest what they want in their minds and actions. Every active and compliant member is rewarded with more responsibility in church leadership. This reinforces their human need to feel needed, essential, and exceptional. And those who are not called and want to be called begin to feel less needed, less essential, and unexceptional. How are these church community realities even close to Godly? Many are called, but few are chosen. How elite. How evil. How wrong.
The church proclaims to be the one true church that provides each individual with the opportunity for joy, happiness, and eternal life. All you must do is stay on their path, hang onto their iron rod, and not be distracted by the world or worldliness. Be in the world, but not of the world. After all, church members are special and are discouraged from mingling with unbelievers unless there is a potential for conversion or a business obligation or opportunity.
For a time, I struggled. How do I reconcile what I wanted to believe as right with what my heart and mind just knew to be wrong? What I once believed was just that: beliefs. And once I knew, I couldn’t unknow. This broke me and also liberated me.
I discussed all of this with my husband. He was confused and, no doubt, sad. But he believed in agency—his and mine—and that they were separate. My choice did not diminish the pain. I sometimes wonder if it diminished our marriage. One day, one of my sons said that if his wife left the church, he would divorce her. I asked him if he was going to divorce me, his mother. He hesitated. I don’t know if he considered it, but he hasn’t claimed emancipation yet.
My husband believed I would change my heart, but I haven’t. That isn’t to say I wouldn’t like to. It isn’t fun to be an embarrassment to my children and my husband’s family. It doesn’t feel good to feel isolated. It isn’t a happy place. And sometimes, I consider living a lie. Go back and pretend. I would have friends, sort of. I would have a church-affiliated purpose, sort of. It seems easier, but I can’t imagine succumbing to social pressure. I would only find the manufactured elixir, acceptance, belonging, and peace.
I have been on the other side. I remember reaching out to inactive or non-members, believing I was an instrument in their salvation. How noble, How special I thought I was. How narcissistic. Consider this: If God created this world, why would my help help? God doesn’t need my hands, heart, or head to help anyone. My past arrogance and self-importance humiliate me. I am learning to live with that. But again, being needed and having purpose helps me, so there is that. But then, the seduction of power diminishes our humanness. It’s complicated and simple at the same time.
The problem is that I conformed. My life slowly revolved around the church. My friends, my associates, my employers, and my clients were all members of the church. I was often hired because of my membership. This attitude in highly populated member areas is typical for church members. I don’t know any members who socialize with non-members without the possibility of a financial benefit or fellowship agenda. After all, it is one of the church’s three missions. I have been told that in densely populated areas, members are not so particular about acquiring only church-based friendships. I have been told they are more tolerant of non-members and enjoy friendships outside of church-sanctioned activities. I am sure this is true. Humans need humans.
I can’t begin to tell you how many times I have heard, “So and so are Mormon; they just don’t know it yet. They don’t drink or smoke. They are such good people. Some day, they will get baptized.” It is as if church members monopolize righteousness and kindness, but trust me, they don’t. My experience is church members are human like everyone else. Many are unkind and, worse, like all humans, are judgmental. I have stories.
So when one chooses not to be an active church member, the first thought is, what sin did they commit that they can’t give up, confess, or admit, or did someone or something offend them?
My answer? I am a sinner, and guess what? So are you. I don’t say God’s name in vain, steal, lie, or do horrific acts against God or humans. I don’t gamble or watch porn. I provide services to non-profit organizations. And my husband still tithes. I honor his agency as he does mine. So there goes that theory. And I have been offended time and time again. If that were the reason, I would have left years ago. Truly.
One should examine the directive and encourage each individual to follow the dictates of their conscience. But be forewarned: If you are a church community member, ensure your actions align with the church’s dictates. There are consequences and accountability if they do not. I can feel the hairs of church members pricking their necks. The defense mode is, no doubt, being triggered. That says something.
As a result of my inactivity, members expressed their concern over my eternal salvation, primarily in nonverbal ways to me and in communications with each other between the pews and at social gatherings. I began to receive drop-in visits from women I rarely socialized with outside of church classes or chapel pews. I started to receive a weekly spiritual message from a woman I barely knew. My friends began to filter their words, actions, and conversations with me. Their behavior became more intentional and guarded. They were no longer relaxed or themselves with me around. They were on guard and cautious. They went into their example mode. They couldn’t relax and be who they were, imperfect humans just doing their best. I valued them because I had known them, all of them. I thought they knew me, but they no longer felt comfortable. I get it.
These interactions made me withdraw. When they talked with me, they were defensive and caustic. Their whispered comments, “how the light had gone out of me” or “you can just feel that the spirit is gone from her,” only projected the darkness within themselves. Eventually, they stopped calling, and my “friends” disappeared.
It was disheartening. Whenever I was around community members,” it felt very toxic. I felt judged, ridiculed, excluded, and abandoned. I withdrew even more. I sensed a breath of relief from them with my increased absence. The undercurrent was clear: come back into the fold, and all will be forgiven. We can be friends again. Funny, because I am still your friend, with all your imperfections, secrets, and flaws. Perhaps these people’s values are different regarding friendship. Yes, perhaps.
I do not feel loved or accepted by a community that professes to love and embrace even the least of these. Who wants to be around that? I haven’t spoken, seen, or heard from anyone for months, maybe longer. I stopped reaching out, too. I can own that. It’s just too painful and awkward.
I have wanted to call and reach out. I pick up my phone to punch in their name and number. But I stop short. I don’t want to be a dreaded obligation. It is a struggle because I still worry and wonder about their health, kids, marriages, and happiness. The last moments we spent together were icky. I felt lonelier in their presence than when I was alone. Whatever I said became misunderstood and judged. They were attentive, present, and watchful when I spoke, especially around their children. They misinterpreted what they heard. I suppose it is easier to imagine ill intentions. It is easier to justify the dissolution of friendship and probably a little uncomfortable to admit that you don’t like me anymore and maybe never really did. I get it. But I want you to know I am still here if you need a friend. In the meantime, I’ll make it easier for you. I will remain a distant, invisible entity. Such a relief, right?
The courage it took to leave behind what was no longer the truth for me is the same courage that will help me find my way to what is. Yes, it took courage—and it still does. The daily loneliness and isolation are real; that is the price I paid and continue to pay.
I want and need people who dare to get out of their comfort zones, who discover the goodness of all life, who have differing views and experiences, who enjoy sharing ideas and thoughts in authentic, safe, and meaningful ways, and who can value those differences, live their truth, and embrace and love others for doing the same. I seek people who find joy and share honestly without an agenda or fear of being different or unconventional.
And I understand that many who have left the church behave in equally toxic ways. I do not seek to ridicule church members and their lifestyles. I do not have my own agenda to unconvert the converted. Most community members are sincere in their efforts to be Christlike. The church has many good intentions; by extension, so do church members. I am equally offended by ex-members judging active members. If you don’t like the Church, Okay, but why mock, ridicule, and judge to shame others to dislike what they love? Let people choose their journey. It is their life, and they get to say.
You might feel I have made some judgments. Maybe I have, but that is not my objective. I think through writing my thoughts, feelings, and experiences, I can gain clarity, and perhaps I can heal from the trauma of social leprosy. Maybe it is like therapy. Who knows.
Perhaps I am being overt. Does sharing my experiences prompt anyone to consider their complicity in the rejection of ‘others?’ Is anyone really choosing to ostracize people of differing views and values? I don’t know the hearts of everyone. Neither do you. It is hard to comprehend how those who covenanted to love their neighbor could be cruel, bullish, and anti-Christ. But I’ve seen it happen. Comfort over controversy. Who has time for compassion?
We humans feel less and less control over our lives. More and more people harness power or control within reach. Whether we admit it or not, we are being influenced by social media platforms, self-created media outlets, self-created influencers, religious leaders, zealots, politicians, and corporate powerhouses. More and more people seek power, position, leadership, and influence. It is an addiction.
Humans may feel and fear societal abandonment and recognize our lack of purpose or place within our chosen or established community. Every day, more and more humans manifest their need for connection with increased outlandish, provocative, attention-grabbing, authoritarian behavior. To belong to an established group, party, or institution creates a real and a false sense of belonging and superiority. Do you feel safe, protected, and in the right, even justified in hating or discounting other humans? Those labeled outside any community circle feel vulnerable. And I know those within any community have feelings of vulnerability, too.
All humans are at risk of being abandoned. What are we willing to do and become to avoid being isolated and alone? What are we doing and becoming?
So what are my options? I don’t know. I certainly feel limited in my choices. I feel animosity and even attacked when my views differ or deviate from opposing points of view. I have been told that friends, family, and political adversaries do not feel safe sharing their views with me. Perhaps they don’t feel comfortable having those doubts everyone experiences brought to the surface. Someone once told me they don’t want to be influenced by opposing points of view. How about being educated?
And there are moments of real fear as the world dissolves into opposing factions that choose violent or demeaning methods to maintain power. I do feel a continued lack of love and belonging. We have all asked what has happened to civil discord. Really, what happened to it? When was it acceptable to support uncivilized behavior, bullying, and intolerance toward opponents of differing views?
And there are world communities with uncivilized behavior. And many of those communities feel our society is uncivilized.
It is the diversity of thoughts and opinions. It isn’t always as simple as right or wrong or just or fair. Some disagree and claim a black-and-white mentality as if there is no gray. This world and its inhabitants are too complicated, but I want to understand and listen to your point of view. And I want to be heard, too. I want to feel safe and valued. I extend that to you; I do. It has broken me to know the loss of friends and family due to my choices and differing opinions. But the feeling of relief, discovering and owning my values, has been liberating and given me a deeper sense of self and purpose.
At my age, it is tough to feel so isolated and alone. I find it increasingly difficult to trust people’s motives, but I am willing to be vulnerable. My days begin with an intention to find peace, solutions, and connections, not war, chaos, and division.
I have discovered and committed to the values I have chosen to live by because that is who I want and choose to be. There was a time when I didn’t know what I believed or thought about many issues. I trusted others to tell me what they should be. Now, I trust myself to discover my core values.
Once, I adopted the values I was told to have without question. A rather insignificant example is when my kids were born. I didn’t feel comfortable giving newborns immunizations. I struggled because church leaders promoted immunizations. I relinquished my God-given right to choose what I thought and felt was best for my children and conformed to their written and established position.
I did postpone their immunizations until they were two years old. But the feeling of blind compliance still weighs heavily on my heart. That compliance haunts me and many others like it. In other incidences, I obeyed against my belief of right and wrong. Now, I try to embrace my instinct and hold myself responsible and accountable for personal decisions. My values are chosen because of my personal beliefs and knowledge. I am consciously choosing my truth. Whatever I discover it to be, it will not be selected for me by another soul or entity. And that feels good. It feels right.
Will I get more than two piercings? Will I get a tattoo? Will I swear? Will I wear the immodest clothing? Will I do any of the insignificant things that don’t matter? Will I shop on Sunday? Will I gamble? Will I drink coffee? Meh.
Being a member of the human race already means being a member of a worldwide community. And being a member of a community is essential for humans. It naturally provides connection and purpose. If we look at each other and accept each other as a worldwide community of humans, neighbors, and family, we will discover the humanity within us and others.
I seek to find members of the human race who instinctively have a natural connection, consideration, and concern for each other.
That is a community I find worthy of participating in and embracing.