I knew that making the decision to move myself way from church was probably going to mean I would have discussions with certain people, and that I would have to answer the question “why are are leaving the church?” I had a dinner organised with a close friend that night and had a feeling that this topic would come up at some point. And so, I began reflecting on what the exact reason was so that I could in a simplified way relate that to them. At this stage, I did not have a summed up response.
I then got a phone call from an old coworker where this question was asked. I ended up using this conversation as a test run for how the coming dinner might go. I even said this to him, to which he laughed. Our conversation was extremely civil and was largely centred around the guilt and shame cycle that I experienced particularly as a youth around masturbation, which again, I believe is a normal thing and something that is the business of a young person. Something surprised me in his response to this. He said, “When I was a bishop, and matters of a sexual nature arose, I would ask if they wanted to share, and if not, then that was up to them.” He also said that sexual problems and things like it were “just part of growing up.” I got the impression that it was not for him to judge them but to be a support if they wanted it. I probably needed more of this growing up. We spoke about some other things but I think this was the bulk of the conversation. We caught up again later and that was where we spoke at length about other things. For another post.
I then went to my friend’s house for dinner, having had a practice run for the potential question of why I am choosing to leave the church. It was a lovely dinner as always, and then a moment in the evening presented itself for the conversation to transition. She asked, “So why did you and your wife stop going to church?” As I reflect on this experience now, I realise that there were a lot of unprocessed emotions and information, and so all of me wishes I could go back and have this conversation again, but with how I feel about it all now.
But the conversation went something like this.
I went through the timeline starting in April of 2020 through to that night, reiterating the guilt and shame cycle I experienced, particularly during my youth. At the time this was the latest thing I had come to terms with, so I led with that. I mentioned that discovering historical truths that weren’t taught to me was confronting, though I resonated with the phrase I had heard a week earlier saying “thank you god for using broken people to do your work.” Her husband asked what I thought about the Book of Mormon. I said, “well, it’s like the Bible, and Bible isn’t perfect. If it’s not true then it makes a great story.” I knew there were problems with the Book of Mormon but I didn’t feel like I knew enough about those issues, so I deflected the question.
As the conversation continued, the husband’s line of questioning then felt diagnostic, as if he was trying to find the problem to then fix it. And if the problem could be boiled down to a single issue then I’m sure it would have been resolved. But at the time, I did not quite grasp the weight of how much more processing needed to be done. As I think now, I believe that the church is not what it claims to be because of many issues that come together and form that view, issues I will continue to elaborate on in future posts.
My friend appeared quite skeptical about the conversation; a furrowed brow and arms folded. I get it! We spent much of our youth together at church, learning, experiencing spiritual events, and in a sense “training ourselves” to be able to withstand what was taught to us to be the forces of evil. And to see her friend walk away from what was taught to us to be the source of strength, the ultimate safeguard to truth, the house in the storm, I would be mixed in emotion too. I do wish I had asked both of them what their thoughts were about us leaving; perhaps I would understand more about how they felt about it all. I just don’t know how or if appropriate it would be to bring it up again.
The conversation continued. The husband then said, “it sounds like you want to live without the gospel; to see what it’s like.” At the time, this didn’t feel totally correct, although it’s a bigger world when you live life without the expectations of the church; when you are in fact free to act autonomously in a much truer sense. But this comment is often what members of the Mormon church feel is a reason to leave, to sin essentially, wrapped in a guise of wanting to experience the world. I said things like, “I miss the feeling I had when I felt like I had a relationship with god,” to which he replied, “It seems like your framework for spiritually cannot exist with your framework for the world; you will have to destroy the one to build the other.” At the time I nodded in a degree of agreement, but wondered, “why can’t the two coexist? Why can’t I find a way to take the best parts of the church and integrate them into my new lifestyle?” I believe that I also referred to my framework for determining truth, that that would need to change from what the church taught to become something else. The church teaches that its truth is objective and that it is determined through study and prayer, and feeling if it is right or not. I would add that the answer also has to align with the church doctrine; for how can god tell person A through their heart that event A is true, but the church be teaching that event A is not true? I now take a critical approach to determine what is real, which starts me off being very untrusting until evidence suggests otherwise. Is this a perfect way to determine truth? It works for me at the moment.
The conversation came to an end when I said that if we came back to church, we would not be temple recommend holders, and that as we sat there in the pews and at the back of lessons, we would just be guilted and shamed for not living the gospel standard, and that would do far more damage than good. Though I haven’t tested this theory, I still believe the logic follows. One day I might test it out of curiosity, but for now, my focuses are elsewhere. Whilst the conversation was civil, and I’m glad it happened, there felt an overarching sense of the question, “but how can you leave?” It’s tough navigating this part of the faith transition. But I recognise that it may redefine many relationships in my life. It already has, and I am scared to what extend these relationships may change.
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