It’s been a hard week, hasn’t it? It’s now 3:48 a.m. and as has been more and more common recently I haven’t slept, but have lain awake unable to turn off the mental review of what a hard week this has been.
It’s been hard for me for some of the same reasons it’s been hard for you. I don’t know what it’s like to be LGBTQ, or to have a child reviled for being LGBTQ. I don’t know what it’s like to be actively Not Wanted by the Church … but I do know something of what it’s like not to have my legitimate spiritual needs met, unaddressed by a church I so very much want to serve but which has no use – literally, no use – for me at the ward level, or professionally, or in any other way. I’m here, I desire to serve, but they don’t/won’t use me.
I know what it’s like to sit in the chapel after most people have left for the next activity, weeping because once again I have heard and felt nothing that could give me any hope for facing the coming week, because – once again – my worship time was hijacked by someone opening a talk with the disgusting “You can tell I worked hard as a missionary because look at my hot wife!” and who then went on to use his entire ten minutes to give a detailed account of his dating history – no effort to somehow incorporate the gospel; just his dating history, under the guise of “introducing ourselves because we’re new in the ward.” Or, alternatively, it was a “worship service” where Brother C. read jokes from a joke book for 15 minutes – literally! read jokes! no commentary, just jokes from a book that must have been published in the early ’60s because all the gross stories were about hen-pecked husbands and wives who could burn water.
So, I know what it’s like not to have my legitimate spiritual needs met, even if I don’t quite know what it is to be actively described as the enemy. (Well, except for that time when a Conference speaker warned against showing too much kindness and sympathy for single women, because it might give Young Women the idea that they don’t need to marry. In that case, I mostly just wondered where were these mythical places where too much kindness and sympathy to single women were expressed.) I know how hard it has been for me – and I know that it is nothing compared to what LGBTQ families face constantly.
What else made this week hard – and what I naively did not expect – was a steady stream of friends – personal friends – acknowledging publicly that they had withdrawn their church membership in recent months, or were doing so in coming days, and the number whose multiple children had rejected continued connection to the Church. I have always been somewhat skeptical of claims that the Church was “hemorrhaging” members because I hadn’t seen it in my connections. This week I can’t deny it. I’ve now heard about it, over and over and over and over, within my own relatively small circle.
As for myself, I do not know when or if I will resume personal attendance in my ward – in one way, the pandemic has been a relief because I do not now need for any reason to attend in-person services and feel more isolated and lonely there than I do in my home isolation and (too often) loneliness.
But. Still. I am a Latter-day Saint. I believe. I can’t help it; I believe. I’ve never found the Church’s vaunted community to be a reality or any draw to remaining connected to the Church. My faith has never hinged on mere attendance, or association with other Church members. It is built on other things, things I cannot not believe, and that have no connection to whether or not I am wanted or accepted or my gifts used in the organization:
If there is one thing I know more than any other outside of mundane, secular experience, it is that life continues beyond the grave, and that those who have lived and died retain their individual, distinct personalities. It’s possible, even likely, that followers of other faiths have this knowledge – but through the gospel as restored by Joseph Smith, I have a very long term, comprehensible if undetailed, understanding of the relationship between this life, and that life after death, and our premortal life, and the purpose for it all. That knowledge, that near-daily communion I have with the individual dead, is utterly independent of whether or not the Church as an institution wants me around or not.
I know there is a God, and that he knows me, and that he loves me regardless of whether or not the Church thinks my life has any value or purpose. One of the recompenses of living as solitary as I do, working all hours of the day or night because, really, what else do I have to do? is that I can speak with my Heavenly Father, out loud, whenever something strikes me: “Look at what so-and-so did! [speaking of something I have just learned from Church history]. That must have made you so happy!” And you can mock, as I have no doubt some readers will throughout this post, but I feel the warmth of God’s love in those moments, because he knows that I know, and I know that he knows, that we both love this person of the past. Again, maybe I’d have the same experience in any other faith, but I have it in this one, with a particularly Mormon flavor, that is neither enhanced nor diminished by anything that could be said over any pulpit anywhere in the Church.
I love Joseph Smith. I love him as a personality – I love the spirit and temperament and gift and whatever else was involved in the revelations he received from God and then delivered to the world. I had a remarkable experience where I became convinced of the truth of his early prophetic experiences, and while I can no longer quite recreate the experience, I cannot deny that it was real, and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I certainly would not have Joseph Smith, not in the same way, outside of the Church he organized. Even within other churches that claim descent from his teachings, I would not have the Joseph Smith I know now, because too many key teachings and practices restored by him have no part in those other churches. I can’t have Joseph Smith without the institutional Church, regardless of how that Church might fall short in its pastoral responsibilities.
I couldn’t even have the same Jesus Christ without the Church, even if there is too infrequent mention of him in services. People in other churches have undeniably warm and intense and divine understanding of Jesus, and I think in some respects – particularly in the black church – their experience of Jesus is superior to mine. But outside the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I would still lose some of my understanding of the Jesus Christ I love, because part of that love comes from peculiarly Mormon evidences– his role as Creator, his personal concern for and involvement with all people at all times (as, for instance, his pre-mortal concern for and his post-moral appearance to the people of the Western Hemisphere and, presumably to others of whom we yet have no record). These are things I am unwilling to abandon.
There are so many other points of the gospel as taught within the Church that I cannot deny, that I have no desire to replace with different or lesser knowledge, and that have little to nothing to do with the Church community. I can’t abandon them, no matter how often it feels as though the Church has abandoned me.
I have written more than once about the difficulties I had as a missionary serving under an abusive president (his very first spoken words to me were “I don’t like you,” and he gave invariable proofs of his contempt for the full year following). I have said more than once that the greatest mistake of my life, the thing I would change if I could do it over again, was going on a mission instead of going to school (I couldn’t do both). But in the past few days I have begun to wonder if that is true, and whether that mission, despite the incredibly negative shadow it has cast over my entire adult life, did not actually result in good that is only now coming to light:
It took years, but I was finally able to get past the bewilderment over what had happened and why. That occurred when I could finally separate the man from the Church, and truly understand that his failure to live up to his calling was his own personal failure. Maybe there could and should have been more oversight of mission presidents, but I have no reason to believe that the mission president’s failures as a human being were in any way the fault of President Kimball who extended the call, or of the Church that mission president had been invited to serve.
In large part because of that understanding, I can (usually) separate the gospel from the shortcomings of individuals, or of wards, who show no sign of even seeing members like me who want to serve but who are unwelcomed and unused our entire adult lives. I love the gospel, and it is inextricably tied to the Church, even if, as I am certain, there are many great and important facets of the Restoration that are as yet unknown, unguessed, unsought.
I wish my friends could hang on to that. I wish their children understood that the Church and the gospel are so much more than a community that has failed them. I understand why they cannot, and I do not condemn.
But oh, how hard this week has been.
Thanks for sharing this, Ardis.
Thank you for being vulnerable and sharing this. I see you and the light and truth you have and the good you do through this website. I’m sorry the “church” has so often failed to see you, your needs, your ability to contribute. I can relate on a very deep level to not feeling like my spiritual needs were met at church. Sending you a virtual hug.
This– this is glorious. Thank you so much for writing it.
I realized– I hope I’m not hijacking the conversation– but I realized within the last year something very similar about being grateful for one of the most difficult experiences of my life (being rejected by those called by the church to lead me, in my case, as a teenager). It has made me more fearful in almost every situation I’ve faced since– but on the other hand, it also made me recognize with extreme clarity the difference between my relationship with church authorities and my relationship with Jesus Christ. And, as with you, my relationship with Jesus Christ is inextricably tied to my membership in the institutional church.
Thank you– thank you– thank you for writing this.
I’ve realized over the last couple of years that I don’t speak well about it, but I have a deep and almost incomprehensible faith that somehow gets me through very dark days of grief over singleness and irreversible infertility. Thank you for speaking for those of us who can’t find the right words.
Thank you for sharing and for all you contribute to charity, knowledge, experience, and grace.
Thank you, Ardis. And despite the circumstances, it’s great to be reading you again.
Thank you Ardis for this. You are so gifted.
Ardis, you’ve perfectly expressed my own very complicated feelings about my relationship with the church. I too have felt like I don’t belong in my ward and week after week cried when I got home. For two years I was called to work in a tiny branch in my stake that served a group of teenaged boys who’d been incarcerated in juvenile detention and were now living in a group home run by an arm of the state’s mental health outreach. All of these boys came from LDS homes in Utah County and yet, they were completely forgotten by their bishops, YM leaders and often their own families. This fact plus the fact that they didn’t conform to the unspoken expectation that our youth, let alone adults, shouldn’t ask hard questions of us in the church along with the fact that many of our boys dealt with learning disabilities and serious depression had put them beyond the pale in their wards. As these boys had never experienced Christ’s personal and transformative love for each one of them we leaders chucked out the lesson manuals and focused on solely teaching them the gospel as found in Christ’s teachings in the NT especially the Sermon on the Mount. I’ve never had such intense spiritual experiences week after week as I witnessed how these boys’ lives were truly changed by the real gospel of Jesus Christ. People who came to speak to our boys referred to attending our meetings as being “body slammed by the Spirit”. It was certainly that and more.
We didn’t have the sacrament at our services because of the nature of some of the offenses the boys had been charged with. After two hours of pure spiritual uplift I would then attend my own ward in order to take the sacrament. The difference between our little branch and my ward was galling. My bishop treated our ward as his personal fiefdom and was the worst sort of leader in every possible way, especially since our stake had just undergone major ward boundary changes and was a new ward. Instead of working to make us a loving ward family he did his best to divide ward members into the In group which was the large gated street where the super wealthy people (his group) lived and the rest of the ward. I’ve never once heard the gospel truly preached over the pulpit where the bishop didn’t then stand up and castigate the speaker in front of the congregation for not conforming their thoughts to what he considers to be the gospel-a hateful, punitive set of rules to be obeyed perfectly and completely lacking in anything that one would recognize as the “real” gospel of Jesus Christ which is all about right relationships with God, the Savior and each other. The Spirit was noticeably absent in our meetings which was hard to cope with after being bathed in the Spirit for two hours with the boys. When the state closed down the group home because of budget cuts my spiritual lifeline with regard to the church ended. Because of often debilitating chronic pain I would go to church to take the sacrament and try to stay through at least one talk. (This was never an issue in the branch.). However that meant standing up on the side of the gym or walking around in the foyer while listening to a talk. Then in ward conference our new SP branded anyone who had to stand in the gym or sit/walk in the foyer because of noisy little ones or health issues as renegades who were backsliding and setting a bad example for the rest of the ward. At that point I gave up even trying to attend church because of the physical impossibility of being able to sit comfortably on hard chairs and benches for 70 minutes. I asked to have the sacrament brought to my home. My request was ignored, so my husband blessed the sacrament regardless of the “rules”. Because neither of us has ever been a TBM we were and continue to be ignored by our ward leaders and members. When I got Covid 15 months ago (and I have still not have recovered from it) our banishment was made complete. Except for four neighbors with whom we’ve set up a care group with during the pandemic we’ve heard nary a word from the bishop or RS president or anyone else for that matter from our ward. My husband has just about thrown the towel in regarding having anything to do with the church at this point although he still has a strong testimony of the gospel and not the man made rules. I cling on by my fingernails for the reasons that you so beautifully articulated. Brother Holland’s talk on Monday almost sent me over the edge. In all my years as a member of the church I would never have thought that this could happen. I beg and plead with the Lord daily to help me understand what’s happening in the church and to help me hang on. I haven’t left the church, but it feels like the church has left me. My heart is broken.
This week has been so hard indeed! With Afghanistan/Isis-K, Covid 19 killing friends and family, Elder Holland sticking his foot in his mouth, a team member at work literally falling off a mountain and having to be helicopter rescued. I have never wanted a week to be over so much in my life. Joseph B. Wirthlin’s “Sunday will come” has taken on extra meaning this week. Thanks for being part of that Sunday for me.
As others have said, you’ve done a lovely job putting thoughts and feelings I also have into words. Thank you. I have friends and family who have left, and I know that they have done so with careful consideration and deliberation. I’ve had times that I’ve wondered if I am missing something that others can see because I still stay. Thank you for being a light in the dark for me on my path.
Ardis, being at church may seem of no use, but not to my deaf mother. She said she went “to feel the Spirit”. That is a good reason. I admire and appreciate all you are doing!
Thanks for this, Ardis.
You are inspiring. Your comments here and elsewhere enlighten me. You shared some sentiments a few months ago about those among us who are overlooked, which affected me so much I shared them with my Bishop and Ward Council. Thank you for the gifts you share with readers like me.
Thank you Ardis. I find my heart reasons echoing yours. All week my spirit has pondered in paraphrase of Peter’s response: Lord, where would I go? For here are the words of Eternal Life.
Thank you, Ardis, for giving part of yourself to all of us.
Marginalization in local wards. Yes, as I’ve aged (now a senior citizen), I’ve noticed it, too–especially as the Church now focuses the greater part of its efforts on the youth.
During some of the darkest, most spiritually trying years of our lives our Home Teacher, now our bishop, never called, never visited, never greeted us at church, even though he reported regular contacts. Strange isn’t it.
My sweet husband and I could have chosen to be bitter, but rather we bore it meekly, never calling him out for it. One thing that truly helps me, is lifting my vision from this world to the glories of heaven in personal relationship with our Lord, filling my own lamp, and then reaching out and giving to others what I wish we were receiving.
It is just these disheartening experiences that are our greatest tests of faith and our greatest opportunity for blessings, ultimately, if we will exercise greater charity and move forward rejoicing in Christ. Gird up our loins, girls!!
Ardis, I am sorry you’ve had a trying week and some very unwarranted experiences in church ‘leadership’. You’ve got my email address now. Write to me if I can help you keep a pitchin in.
Credit given where credit is due — one of the talks in my ward today actually was centered on God and Christ, and quoted scripture.
Thank you so much for your testimony. Your activities online have, for years, helped build my belief in both the gospel and the church. I tend toward skepticism even though I believe strongly in both and you have made comments or given thoughts on hundreds of posts or essays on the Mormon internet that have meant a lot to me and caused me to look at things more deeply than I otherwise would have. Any time I see your name pop up in the comments of a post at BCC or other LDS related sites I know that clarification or additional information is coming that will help things make more sense. You’ve helped me ground my outrage when it is unwarranted and given me historical knowledge that helps me know when my interest in a subject or teaching should be more stoked than it is. I’ve never really interacted with you online but I’m so glad you’re out there. I recognize that this isn’t your actual calling, but you’ve benefited my testimony more than anyone in my ward who has been called to do the same. Thank you!
Oh, it’s been a week all right. I spent Sunday afternoon in a state of emotional exhaustion, solaced by ice cream and embroidery. Between BYU and Louisiana and friends in crisis and whatnot, it’s been a week.
I love the gospel and I love much of the Church. I love my ward, which has been a refuge from some really hard things in the last few years. I am also a mom to two LGBT kids (I have two kids, so we’re 100%) who, of course, have felt it necessary to leave the Church. I would say that yes, we’re losing a *lot* of people to this issue.
I stay because, well, God told me how to deal with my kids. He said to love and support them, and that’s all I need to do. I don’t need to try to tell them how to live or determine what public policy on bathrooms for trans people should be. I just need to love them. And I see my job as having two parts: first, the love my kids part, and second, to be visible as a mom of LGBT kids in my ward. Otherwise, I’m waiting for further light and knowledge on this issue, because we sure need it. I am certain that our LGBT kids have a place and a part in the plan, and we need to know about it.
So I’ve talked in RS about my spiritual experiences around having a trans kid. Most people know about it at this point, and the only people who have said anything are the supportive ones, which are many. I’m fine with not agreeing 100% with every single thing the Brethren say. I don’t know that I ever have. But this week was very hard.
Ardis, I wish your amazing talents and contributions were better appreciated where you are. I’m very grateful for Keepapitchinin.
Gorgeous, Ardis. Whatever my affiliation to Mormonism may be, I will always be proud to affiliate with you.
Ardis, thank you for this.
Thank you for this. I didn’t know how much I needed it.
Ardis, you are deeply loved and admired. I know it doesn’t help, but I’m glad you believe and can’t help it. It makes me feel just a little less lonely.
When this pandemic thing dies down, we should meet for lunch or something. I miss your perspective.
Yes, it’s been quite the week. Mine was overwhelming for a different reason closer to home, but I was aware of the other stuff going on in the background. If you are blessed with a new perspective on your mission, I would love to hear it.
Many, many of us feel exactly the same way. Thank you for this post.
That’s among the grandest testimonies I’ve ever heard. Thank you.
Thank you, Ardis. This was very moving. So much has been difficult this week, and your words felt like light in the darkness.
Thank you. Thank you so much for your honesty and testimony.
Beautiful, touching, and really helps me understand the dilemma you and no doubt many others face. I always enjoy what you write, whether about church issues or history; your research has given me as much understanding as your pieces like the above.
If you come to the Genesis Group, I’ll worship alongside you during every gathering.
Very difficult to read this and feel (even to the limited extent that I can) what you are going through. As I have heard from other members on many occasions and experienced personally and as you have so eloquently stated it can be very difficult to reconcile the fact that the gospel is from God and is true and eternal but the church itself is populated and led by very imperfect individuals that can inflict (knowingly and unknowingly) significant pain and suffering on others in the church. But, as you have also stated, it is comforting to know that God understands all of our feelings and is prepared to listen to our expression of the negative ones and bless us in dealing with the effects of those experiences. And anyone who is prepared to mock the detailing of such experiences has yet to understand the true meaning of a “loving” Heavenly Father. Good luck going forward and while we don’t know each other personally you will be in my prayers.
This was a sermon worthy of general conference.
I know that isn’t why it was written, but it speaks to so much.
Thank you.