I was born into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (The Mormons). My parents were converts to the Mormon church; my mom was raised Baptist, and my dad was raised Catholic. I was taught, from as far back as I can remember (which is quite far), that I was born in this day and age because I am a Latter Day Saint. I was taught that I stood for God in the pre-existence, and that because of this stand, I was rewarded by being born into the only True Church, into a loving family, and of a clean lineage. I was taught that it is my responsibility to perform missionary work (even if I do not go on a formal mission); I must bear my testimony, I must grow up and be worthy of a worthy man so we could be married in the temple and have children. I was taught that I must do my very best to try this; that if I am able to have children, and refuse, I will not make it into the Celestial (Highest) Kingdom of heaven.
I am currently 33 years old. I had my doubts about the Mormon church for a long time. My parents were a little odd; with Baptist and Catholic influences, it was hard to differentiate between the Mormon teachings and the beliefs my parents were raised with. For example, my mother took a great deal of her “southern” superstition with her when she converted. Trying to understand what was a childhood belief of my mom’s, and a belief of the Mormon church was difficult. The church, at least in my experience, doesn’t teach the children being raised Mormon the whole truth. They teach it to you in different levels, gradually leading you in further and further, because they believe you are not yet ready for the whole truth.
I still clearly remember a time when I was 9 years old: my mother told me about “blacks” (I use the term “black”, because that was the term my mother used in 1983. I was raised in California, and I had already become accustomed to the differences between my mom and other Californians. She had a distinctly “southern” view of things. My father had a distinctly “New York” view of things (he was from New York). However, I was not close to my father growing up. It was my mother that influenced my home life. Anyway, I asked my mom, in all innocence, why there were different “shades” of “black” people, and why we called them “black”, when most of them are brown, or chocolately looking. (Sorry guys, I’m Irish, therefore very “white”…I was just a kid trying to understand something, I promise! J ) She responded, very quietly and very seriously, that black people are bearing the curse of Cain. Cain was a murderer; God cursed him with black skin. Those that are not as black have progressed from the evil of their ancestry. Those that are very black (like a shoe) are still evil.
Phew! Way different from the liberal, secular teachings of my school! Way different from my experiences with black kids. And, I thought, HAD to be different from Mormonism!!! After all, I had never heard THAT at church!!! I mean, I knew about Nephites, and Lamanites, but I understood them to BOTH be Native Americans. (Keep in mind, I am from the Bay Area; it is a very diverse place. I grew up with exposure to people of different backgrounds, and had no problem with different races. Especially considering that I have a little Choctaw and Cherokee in me. I just assumed I have a little Nephite or Lamanite in me.) So, I assumed that my poor, dear mother was simply parroting some weird, backward religious belief she had learned growing up in the south. (Who knew that it was actually a Mormon belief???)
It’s funny how God works; not long after my mom told me that BLACK black people were “evil” I encountered my first very dark skinned man. He smiled at me. Nothing weird about it; I was a kid. He just smiled at me the way adults smile at cute kids. He had such a happy light in his eyes, and his smile lit up his whole face. There is just NO way that man could be evil! How could my mom even think thatf???? It disturbed me greatly, and planted a deep seed. How could anyone think that a black person is evil just because the color of the skin they were born with is dark? The eyes people; the eyes are the window to the soul, and this man’s eyes shone with a kind light.
Anyway, that is just one of the seeds that festered within me. Imagine finding out the truth; that it was a Mormon teaching. Other things that bothered me:
<! Bearing children. I will admit, I am odd in any culture on this one. However, I am one of those rare people that have never wanted to bear children. I have wanted to adopt. When I was a child, and I learned about orphans, I couldn’t understand why we just don’t adopt all the orphans. Everyone stop having kids, adopt the orphans, and problem solved, right? I will grant that NOW, I understand, and even empathize with people wanting their own children, but that has never been my desire. It was very difficult for me to understand that I was going to be prevented from entering the Celestial Kingdom of heaven unless I sincerely was UNABLE to have my own children. Also, what is WRONG with taking care of all of the kids that need homes???
<! Marriage, and a woman’s role. If God, in His infinite Wisdom, created such a diverse earth and universe, why, oh WHY must all of the women be EXACTLY the same???
<!--[if !supportLists]-->3. <!--[endif]-->The amount of things you have to DO to be a GOOD Mormon. This one is a very touchy point for me: the Mormon church fills up your days and nights with so much stuff it is virtually impossible to really do EVERYTHING. There is just no way you will EVER be a good “citizen” outside of the Mormon church, and REALLY integrate yourself with your community, because you will be so busy being a good “church member”. Also, it seemed to contradict most Christian teachings; going out amongst the “sinners”, and leading by example, etc. The Mormon church is very “closed” to the rest of the world. This sense of “otherness” was heightened by living in the area I grew up in.
That is about all I got to by the time I turned 11. Well, that, and…well, I won’t include “personal failings” of church members. I wish to only focus on the doctrinal and social issues I was experiencing.
So I learned the 13 Articles of Faith. This is where I stumbled again. No, I did not stumble on that “We believe the Bible…insofar that it is translated correctly…”, after all, I was taught from birth that the Bible is fallible, and the Book of Mormon is infallible. I stumbled on the fact that we were all supposed to memorize, and recite from memory, the articles of faith to progress to the next level. I never had to recite all of the articles of faith. To my knowledge, neither did my classmates.
Then I became a “young woman”. We were separated from the boys, and began our OWN Sunday school teachings. I just plain thought that was weird. However, God knows best, right? Also, I didn’t like the fact that the boys got to do “fun” stuff like camping, etc, for activities, while the girls had to cook, and sew and stuff. I guess I was kind of a tomboy. Also, I was bothered by the AMOUNT of stuff the church required one to do; it seemed like they were deliberately setting us up for failure. There is just NO way I could possibly be a good student, friend, and church member, while dedicating enough time to all of the miniscule things. It bothered me a lot. It seemed like TOO much. There was just something wrong, here. Why did teachings change? Why was I slowly learning more and more unpalatable things about the church? Why did the bishop’s wife reluctantly confide, when aggressively probed by me, that blacks weren’t “ready” for the priesthood before? Why were blacks supposedly “cursed”? Why were my questions, asked as respectfully as I could manage, rebuffed? Keep in mind, I WANTED to be good. I WANTED to rid myself of my weird desires to NOT have kids, etc, and learn the PROPER way to be a good mormon. I WANTED to understand why blacks were cursed, and yet God loves ALL his children?????? I WANTED to know this. When I asked questions, they were genuine. I was told to pray about it. Read the Book of Mormon and pray.
I grew up in kind of a poor family. We had Deseret food in our house. That is actually a “fond” memory of the Mormon church, if you will. They take CARE of their members. You can’t be Mormon and go hungry. We never had to seek state or federal assistance. Well, by the time I was 14 (almost 15) I was looking for work, and landed a job at Burger King. I worked their on Saturdays and Sundays. Simultaneously, I commuted to a school that was about 30-45 minutes a way so I could take part in their “magnet” program. This means I took more classes than the average HS student, and had to be up early to do it. I never went to Seminary. Also, I did not go to church anymore. I will be honest; at this point that was a relief. I just had too many doubts. Most of them centered around my discernment of people. After all, you are taught to listen to the burning in your bosom, and my bosom kept burning with doubts about the stuff I was raised with. So, it was a relief.
However, at the urging of “church” friends, I did go to SOME youth activities. I still had a problem. Most of my “church” friends were focused on getting me back into church. The more I questioned, the more distant they became. Simultaneously, I was growing closer to “non-church” friends. These “non-church” friends thought I was completely Mormon because I never really shared my internal spiritual battles. However, their friendship was never contingent on believing the way that they did. Interesting.
I stopped all association with the church, and felt totally free. I never really stopped believing in a basically “Christian” tenet, and prayed sometimes, but I was like any other “kind of” Christian person. Pray when I think I’m going to fail a test because I haven’t studied, etc. J
When I got a little older…I want to say early 20s…I had a spiritual struggle again. I lived in an apt. complex next to some missionaries, and I was confronted with the religion of my birth again. I mean, what if the church was right? What if was damning myself? So I started a sincere investigation of the church. I even asked the missionaries for help. I went every Sunday. I dated a Mormon man (something I never did while growing up). OK, so there are all the nice things, etc. I was feeling firmer in my faith; I mean, OK, the Mormon church does all these great things, right? And that whole “black” thing…It isn’t that they are “cursed” cursed. They were just NEUTRAL in the pre-existence, they aren’t BAD bad! Of course, we didn’t really focus on the unpalatable stuff. Some of the things my boyfriend ( a return missionary) said were a little disturbing. He confided that men in temple ceremonies will be given their wife’s names, but not vice versa. (Bam! That polite mysogny hitting me between the eyes again!) And what was REALLY up with garments? Isn’t it enough that I BELIEVE? And why, oh why, oh why did I never read the Bible? If the Book of Mormon is “another” testament, why was not equal time devoted to the Bible???? Doubts upon doubts again.
Naturally, being raised Mormon…These doubts “must” be my fault. After all, being honest with myself, do I REALLY want kids? The answer is “no”. Do I LIKE alcoholic beverages and caffeine? Yes. Do I like “R” movies? Yes. Do I LIKE sex? Uh, yes. Duh. Of course, the sex is bad b4 marriage is hardly distinctly Mormon. The point is; perhaps I was letting these fleshly desires, coffee, beer, wine, etc. interfere with my eternal salvation.
I then did the hardest thing I had yet. I prayed to God for guidance. And not just any guidance; I was fully ready to go wherever that lead me; even down a road to temple marriage, ten kids, etc. Look, I know it is very easy to say I wasn’t sincere in my prayers. Believe what you wish. I am being frank and honest; I was sincere. I would have followed that path anywhere.
The VERY strong unction I received after that was to study. Which made sense; after all, the Mormon Church is supposed to be the one true Word of God, right? If I opened my heart, my mind, and my soul, and studied, I would strengthen my belief. I am a smart person, and I love to read, so this should not be a problem…Every time I opened the Book of Mormon, the Pearl of Great Price, or the Doctrine and Covenants…my eyes would glaze over…I would read a paragraph over and over and over, and just not understand it. I would get a blinding headache. I would get sick. Tons of things kept interfering; the phone would ring, or some interruption would occur. After a while, I finally decided to open up the Bible. I hadn’t really received any guidance so far…I was trying to have faith and patience…and I was trying to focus on the “infallible” Word (Book of Mormon)….but…I BELIEVED that it was “another” testament of Jesus Christ. There shouldn’t be a problem with reading the Bible, it’s not like that is “anti-Mormon”. I couldn’t put it down. It was fascinating! The stories seemed easy to read, and understand. I picked it up, and started with Genesis, then randomly opened to other books. Wow, King David was kind of a jerk! I mean, he lusted after this married lady, so he sent her husband to the front lines of a war? It was INTERESTING. Also, there was good stuff; all that Christian good stuff embedded in it. Umm, I need to point out; no phones rang, no headaches, no blurry vision, no lack of concentration occurred.
I was starting to get kind of frustrated. I mean, I was finding things that supported “good” stuff about the Mormon church, but also things that conflicted. However, it wasn’t faith shaking. After all, the Bible is “fallible”, right? Something I began to notice: No one ever quoted the Bible in church. I brought it up to some people. To his credit, one of the people I mentioned it to decided to use the Bible the next time he gave a talk in church. He did seem distinctly uncomfortable, and the congregation seemed confused, but he did it!
Then it hit me: I prayed for guidance. I was guided away from the church teachings, and towards the Bible. The more I delved into the Bible, the more the Mormon church seemed like a false religion, and a farce. Utter peace came over me. My prayers had been answered. In fact, I remember my last day at church. I was leaving for the day. I had told no one of my decision. I did not feel a need to have my name “removed”. I did not feel any animosity. Just peace, and relief. I was headed for the exit. One of the “elder” elder missionaries came out of the back stage area by the gymnasium that is in the churches, and he saw me there. I had spent a great deal of time just hanging out after the last service that day. Perhaps I wanted to remember the place before I left…there weren’t a whole lot of people around.
I will never forget our conversation. He asked me if I was leaving, and I knew he meant for good, not the day. I just nodded, and smiled calmly. He nodded back. He did not say anything. He smiled calmly, as well. I asked him if he really believed “all of this”. He nodded, as if that was what he was expecting me to ask. He told me that he was a convert. He told me that he used to be an alcoholic, and he smoked like a chimney. He told me that the Mormon church was why he was alive, and why we were having that conversation. He said the church has good values, and that he doesn’t believe it’s evil. He said it’s the path that he was led down to save his life. Not once did he say “I know this church is true.” He said he believed I had found my path, and hoped God would Bless me on it. I thanked him. I left.
I know that that just sounds like a “too perfect” Hollywood ending, but that is what happened.
Well, like anything else, the Mormon church has come to hit me between the eyes again. I now live in Arizona, in an area that has a TON of Mormons (at least to my “Bay Area Roots” perspective). It has been about a decade since I left, and I have delved much more into the Bible. I am unshakable in my faith. Christianity is far different from Mormonism. Recently, I began to “reinvestigate” the origins of the Church from three perspectives; secular, apologist Christian, and Mormon. It is amazing to me. Masonry, Occult, the many, many, many translations of the “perfect” Book of Mormon. The Mountain Meadows Massacre. The historical timing of the renunciation of polygamy. The lack of archaeological evidence, the DNA issues with Native Americans, and on and on and on. It isn’t shaking my faith; it’s actually making me sad. I left the church because my prayer led me away from it. I had my doubts on the little I was fed as a child, and as a “returning” Mormon…How could anyone, knowing all of this other stuff, NOT have doubts?
Christianity sets you free. Mormonism puts you in bondage.
This is my story. As long as it is, it is an oversimplified, abbreviated story at that. If you have read this far, thank you for your time. J