Truth Matters
Before I dive into this post, I want you to know how incredibly hard it is to share these thoughts. I’ve written and rewritten it several times for months now. I’m terrified of the reactions from those I love the most. However, I decided that I don’t give the people in my life enough credit. I believe you will see me as the same person I’ve always been. I’m just on a different path to the same destination.
This post is vulnerable and as Brene says, I have no control over the outcome. I urge you to read this with an open heart and mind. I think you may learn something that can help you understand what is happening when a friend or family member leaves the church.
Over the last few years, I have heard many of my LDS (Mormon) friends lament their loved ones who have left the church. They don’t understand why friends and family members would walk away from their covenants, and the one true church. I also was awestruck at the thought of leaving after going through the temple and feeling the fire of testimony.
My husband came to me several years ago with his own concerns. I was afraid to hear it, and I wasn’t as comforting as I should have been. I didn’t have the courage to offer the listening ear he needed. I was uncomfortable learning new things that upset my world view (see: cognitive dissonance).
I tried to talk my husband out of his doubts. I asked him to keep attending despite the pain I saw on his face every time. I cried several times for what I’d lost. I asked myself, what had we done wrong? I attended BYU, I waited on him on his mission, I had a testimony, I was sealed in the temple, and I was trying so hard to raise our children right. While I was mourning what I had lost and stuck in my own pain, my husband was hurting in a different way. When I experienced this faith crisis up close and personal in my life, I began to understand the depth of honesty and authenticity required for those who leave.
My husband continued to hang on for years after his initial questions. He continued to attend and didn’t push his questions on me. A couple of years into his faith crisis, I decided to read the church essays and Rough Stone Rolling. I halfheartedly read them, but did not allow my wall down to truly examine them.
Over time, I began to realize that if my testimony truly was unshakable, I should not be afraid to study. If the spirit can teach truth, that truth should be able to stand up to challenge. I began intensely reading and studying, using only well-documented sources, and the research of the best experts. I needed to help my husband answer his questions, and be sure we’re in agreement on what we teach our children. In order to understand where I am now, let’s start with my beginning.
I dedicated my life to this point to the teachings of the LDS church. Based on what I was taught and learned through study and prayer, I had faith in this being God’s church. I was not the typical child and teenager. I prayed and sought to know God from a young age. I tried my best to live the gospel and felt horrible when I made mistakes. I had spiritual experiences where I felt love and comfort. I clung to these as evidence of truth in my youth. I felt the fire of testimony from a young age.
I left home and moved across the country to go to Ricks College and BYU, so that I could be surrounded by other faithful young men and women. I went to church, I fasted, I prayed, I read the scriptures almost daily, and I was fully committed. I married in the temple and lived by a very strict moral code. I never took the gospel or my covenants lightly. I wasn’t scared of verifying the truth through study because I had it.
I truly expected to dig into these expert sources and have my testimony strengthened. I went to God in prayer and felt at peace with this decision to study it out. Unfortunately, as I studied I couldn’t deny that what I was taught, wasn’t the full truth. [Out of respect, I will not share the specifics here, but you are welcome to message me anytime to ask questions.] What was in the manuals and lessons at church was the prettied up version, but the ugly parts were hidden down deep. These hidden truths broke me.
I cried, I cussed, I prayed and I pleaded with God. I mourned for everything I lost. I cried over the pain of being misled by a church I based all of my life decisions around. I hurt to no longer have a sure knowledge of eternal families. I was terrified to tell my parents. I was scared to tell my friends that I did not believe. I didn’t want others to think I took this lightly, or I was “deceived.” I was nervous for my children being the outliers in a homogeneous community.
You see, this is how it feels to someone in a faith crisis. All we did was seek truth and find truth. We don’t want to hurt anyone. We don’t want to lose friends and family. We hope to still be respected and seen as the same person we were before the faith crisis.
My conviction and testimony of the church I grew up with — the pretty version — is still there. The ugly parts and the messiness of the full truth, I could not ignore. I felt that my entire life to this point I was standing blindfolded in what I thought was a well organized room. However, once my blind fold was removed, the room was cluttered and messier than a hoarder’s house. No matter how hard I tried, I could not simply put the blindfold back on and pretend that this was the room I had pictured all these years. Instead, I decided to throw away my blindfold and step out of the room.
I may be out of the church, but part of me will always be Mormon. The people I love are Mormon. I live in Utah where the politics are ruled by the Mormon majority. All of my closest friends, neighbors, and family members are Mormon. Most of my son’s friends are Mormon. Just as I will always have my southern roots deep within me, even though I haven’t lived in South Carolina for 20 years, I will also always be Mormon. It’s my community. It’s my language. It’s in my DNA.
Without the gospel I once had, how do I keep from becoming an adulterous raging alcoholic who wants to kill small animals? Pretty simple, I live by the same moral code I have had my entire life. I focus on my core values: be kind to everyone, be honest and authentic, and make a difference in the world. Anything that brings me closer to that I welcome into my life. Anything that violates those values can take a hike. My relationship with my family, and the world around me is stronger than ever and that’s what matters.
The next time you have a friend or family member in a faith crisis, don’t freak out and think they’re being deceived. Instead, open your heart, validate their feelings, respect their journey, and be willing to offer a listening ear.
Truth matters even if it hurts.
