No, I’m Not Going Through a ‘Phase’
For the first time in my life, I’m on the other side, being explained and rationalized by the ‘faithful’. I used to use those narratives too.
This is the third in a series of critical reflections on LDS theology as I navigate my shifting faith.
I offer my thoughts not as an act of retaliation, rebellion or disparagement, but as contributions to the growing community of Mormon thinkers who want the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to be the best version of itself.
1. The ex-missionary on the porch
It was one of those stickily humid days in the middle of Minnesotan summer. The kind where the air heaved with a palpably aqueous, mosquito-dense sludge. (Ask Minnesotans.) My Mormon missionary companion and I were ‘tracting’—knocking on doors, proselyting, sharing the ‘good news’, etc.—in the small city of Mankato, south of Minneapolis. I’d been a missionary for less than 6 months, my companion only a little more.
We knocked on the door of a fairly rickety wooden house in cyan paint that was basically vibrating in the scorching heat. A woman, not that much older than we, answered. I remember her distinctly: tied-back, white-blonde hair, academic-type spectacles, lean mien…and surprisingly eager to speak to us. Which wasn’t normal. (We were used to attempted exorcisms, devil-calling, slammed doors, that kind of thing.)
We did our spiel. ‘We’re missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.’ Blah blah blah. ‘We have a message about the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ.’ Blah blah blah.
She nodded knowingly, then stopped us. ‘Oh, I know who you guys are. I was a missionary in this mission too.’
We gaped.
That wasn’t one of the prepped-for scenarios.
‘But I’m now part of the Bahá’í faith.’
Neither of us had ever heard of that, so she reverse proselytized. The Bahá’í, she explained, believe that all religions are essentially ‘true’ (as Mormons understand that loaded word), but that those faiths lead to a single, higher, universal truth. Essentially maxed-up syncretism.
2. Enter devils
While I can’t really remember the words she spoke (there were a lot), I will never, ever forget what I sensed. It felt—and I use this word advisedly—demonic. The vibes coming off her were just creepy. I felt out of place, repelled, possessed by some evil force.
My instincts told me to bolt. But that would be rude and counter to our divine call, so I stuck it out.
She eventually let slip that she was living with a boyfriend (sinfully then, we noted) whom she had met while serving in the area.
Ahah!
Bingo! There’s the logic! That must be it! That explains the evil aura! She left the Church so she could run off with some guy she fell in love with while serving, which is totally verboten, and a violation of several serious commandments. The depths people will plunge to just to splurge on sin for a few years. Unbelievable. And so sad.
And boy, did those vibes intensify. The whole house was hexed. She could have been the spawn of Cain for all we knew.
As my companion and I were driving back to our apartment, I asked him if he also felt odd. He said he definitely did. We concluded, based on the sound spiritual logic of two naïve teenagers, that we were feeling the influence of Satan, who clearly had led this poor woman astray. The very elect deceived. It was a tragedy. And our feelings were a spiritual warning sign. That had to be it.
Hindsight is 20:20 indeed.
3. I’m the ex-missionary on the porch
Now, I’ve recently found my own faith vaulting away from Mormonism and to something far less defined, certainly less certain of ‘truth’ and more grounded in tangibles and internal controls. In a way, I’ve moved in a similar direction to that ex-missionary on the porch. In fact, minus the Bahá’í bit, I am her.
And I’ve experienced the reactions of my fellow congregants to my public declaration that I was slowly disengaging from activity in the Church over its stance on homosexuality. Those reactions have forced me to revisit the encounter with the ex-missionary on the porch.
See, I wasn’t feeling the devil or demons or any nefarious force in the metaphysical or theological sense. I was feeling the horror of cognitive dissonance.
I just couldn’t compute how a life-long member from Utah of all places (the Mormon ‘factory’ for crying out loud!), who had chosen to serve a full-time mission could lose her testimony, abandon her faith and join some Eastern movement. Truth was truth. God was God. Our way was the highway. She couldn’t possibly doubt objective reality!
So I interpreted my confusion and revulsion as satanic. Of course I did. That was the framework through which I viewed everything. And when I needed some concrete rationalization for her apostasy, I reached for the explanation on which all good missionaries rely: sin. She turned her back on the Church for some guy so she could lust after the flesh.
What I thought back then haunts me now. Because the way I treated the ex-missionary on the porch and the way I thought about her is karmically coming right back at me. The moment I announced my disengagement, declared my intention to find a husband and expressed spiritual doubt, I become the Other. Narratives and rationalizations about me locked into place.
4. To give people due credit
Parenthetically, I do need to say that I have received support, encouragement, genuine love and compassionate acceptance from many, many members of my faith community and outside of it. Really, I have.
What I’m critiquing in this essay is not everyone—at least not something consciously employed by everyone. I have been at times overwhelmed by the unconditional embrace some people—who I would otherwise have thought would be fiercely oppositional—have shown me. Some people have run counter to everything their faith and worldview told them just to show love.
I see it. I feel it. I needed it. It still need it. I deeply, deeply appreciate it.
That said…
5. To list (and vent)
… for the sake of venting and illustration, let me list some of the things I’ve been told about myself either directly or indirectly by a well meaning minority of my fellow parishioners.
Some narratives and rationalizations aimed at me:
- I’m going through a ‘phase’. Once I’ve ‘worked through things’ (i.e. I’ve realized I’m not actually gay), I’ll come back to church activity. Furthermore:
- I just want to have a few years of sexual indulgence, which will be fleeting and unsatisfying, upon the realization of which I’ll come back to church. And obviously:
- I need to check that my revelation was correct. Faulty connection. After feeling the Spirit a few times—preferably with people bearing down in pure testimony against me—my testimony will come back. And then I’ll come back. Otherwise:
- I’m confused. Otherwise:
- I’m not actually gay. I’m just having really strong feelings (one church apostle recently called them ‘LGBT feelings’…yeah…) that should be resisted just like addiction. Otherwise:
- I’ve been deceived by conspiracies in the media and a worldwide movement perpetrated by liberal elites who are in fact inspired by the devil as he seeks to destroy the (heteronormative) family institution that basically heralds the Second Coming. And apart from that:
- I’m possessed by a devil that is gay. (Yes, someone actually told me this.) I need to ask my bishop for an exorcism, after which I’ll be straight. And I’ll be grateful at Judgement Day for being notified of my demonic possession.
Bitterness aside, these are actually understandable labels to slap on me, because that’s what Mormon theology has always done. From before its official organization 1830, the Church has been viciously attacked. For a period, Mormons were hunted in a bloody campaign of what we would now call ethnic cleansing. That defensiveness informs the way Mormons view those who are not of the faith. We are Zion; they are Babylon. We are the House of Israel; they are the gentiles. We are the light on the hill; they live in darkness. We have the truth; they want it too, but ‘know not where to find it’.
Most faiths inevitably foster this kind of othering. Come to think of it, it’s inherent in almost every human institution and social unit. It’s not quite hateful. It’s quite human.
And one of the problems with orthodox faiths and even with fanatical political movements is they often coax followers to construct a rigid worldview in which the inexplicable is handled not by just accepting that one doesn’t know something, but by finding some barely related theological construct to explain what is happening. Even if that theological construct is ‘I’m feeling the devil right now because that’s the only way my feelings make any sense’.
So, when I declared that I was disengaging from active church membership to embrace my sexuality, some people computed the dissonance by assuming I was sinning or confused or misled or possessed. Others were able to find acceptance and love, but told me they didn’t know what to do with the Church’s doctrines on sexuality. It was irreconcilable. Still others accepted me and said they had checked out of believing Church teachings ages ago.
6. To clarify…
For those who are wondering:
- No, I’m not going through a phase.
- No, this isn’t about sexual gratification. This is about my soul and right to familial happiness and emotional fulfilment.
- I honestly cannot see myself coming back to full activity in the Church. My faith has moved on. Irrecoverably. And it feels right and beautiful and glorious and nourishing.
- Yes, I’m sure I’m gay. It took decades of agonizing introspection, denial, truth seeking and deconstruction to realize. It took pain. I had to choose to disconnect from my community. That wasn’t done on the fly.
- No, I’m not currently possessed by any demonic beings.
7. The irony
It’s so bitterly ironic that Mormons can practise othering while simultaneously organizing extraordinary missionary and ministering outreach to bring those people into the fold—all the while being genuinely concerned for people’s wellbeing. The Church sends out tremendous love and invites all to come unto Christ, but Church members can be cold towards those who don’t fall in line.
Church culture breeds this paradox. As the Church grows (if it does in coming years) and as society shifts particularly in the West, can Mormons seriously and sustainably accommodate the diversity of humanity—which will include some people identifying as LGBTQ?
We can’t just narrativize away people’s lived reality.
I hate the fact that I have judged and labelled and rationalized so many of my spiritual brothers and sisters. I hate that it took for me to be in their position before I recognized my prejudice. I hate that I am caught in the crossfire as a church tries to reconcile its divine mandate to love its neighbour whilst cracking down on those whose fundamental experiences of their gender or their attractions do not align with doctrine. Because of what I’ve believed and done in the past, I can’t really expect to ask people to treat me any differently. I have broken some communal rules. I go to church, but I certainly no longer subscribe to everything.
All I can do is say:
Is there room for us to pause and think about the things we think of people and the bases for those snap judgements?
