I recently asked a few of my more left-leaning Mormon friends this question: ”Why are you a member of the LDS faith? And how do you approach beliefs, in any form or fashion, that don’t completely line up with the church?”
My dear friend wrote this response, but for professional reasons asked me to keep the response anonymous. Here is her story:
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I married in the temple believing I would be a good, successful wife and “mother in Zion.” I believed that any questions I had about the LDS church would eventually be resolved in my mind, and if they weren’t then they were not important. I respected the intelligent and sincere leaders and members who were sure in their testimonies and the “truthfulness of the church,” and who didn’t seem to question as I did. Watching them gave me the assurance I wanted that some day I would be as sure as they were. I did everything a good wife and mother in Zion was told to do. I went to the temple regularly, I taught my children the gospel, I studied the scriptures – all of them, not just the LDS scriptures – daily, I prayed, I abstained from alcohol etc., I loved my neighbors, I served in every capacity I was called to, I bore fervent testimony that the church was true, feeling (and hoping) that I was being honest. I tried to approach life with a broken heart and contrite spirit. And I did feel the spirit of the Lord. I really did. I say this with humility. I truly did my best to live my life within the bounds of the teachings of the LDS church.
But I’m not answering the questions you asked. First, I became a member of the church because my father was born a member. His parents were the children of Mormon pioneers. My father’s mother’s grandparents were personally acquainted with Joseph Smith in Nauvoo. My father’s father’s mother was born on the plains of Nebraska in a covered wagon (during an Indian raid I’ve been told, but like so many other stories, I no longer believe that one). My mother was a lapsed Catholic who joined the LDS church when I was six to please my father and eventually became a lapsed Mormon (who incidentally “came back into the fold” a few years before she died). I was baptized at the usual time. I remember my baptism as a special time.
The second part of your question. Most of my ideas on the big things do not line up with what the church seems to support. The church claims to be apolitical. That is not what I see. I support gay marriage and the individual’s right to pursue happiness. I think the prohibition against alcohol and caffeine (such as it is) is silly for most people; however, the prohibition against tobacco is wise but – a requirement for membership in good standing, really? My understanding is that the official statement of the church is that women enjoy the same full rights and responsibilities of membership as men. That was not my experience.
I no longer believe in a God who chooses favorites (Jews, men, Mormons) or who is insecure and depends upon my personal and constant adoration. What it comes down to is this. If I have to choose between what is true in my experience and what the church says, I have to choose what is true in my experience. How can I choose what is not true in my experience? I can’t. This is actually something that I learned in church. Another thing that I learned is that one reason for earthly existence is to know good from evil through experience. My experience tells me that people have the right to pursue individual happiness. My experience tells me that the politics of a Mitt Romney support greed while allowing the “least of these” to go without the necessities of life. My experience tells me that healing the planet is an obligation we have to future generations, ourselves, and the creator. My experience with the church is that we disagree to some degree on these important matters.
I have not given up my belief in the creator and here is the very short version of why. Image may be NSFW.
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Around fifteen years ago I was on a vacation with my husband and one of our daughters. I was feeling despair. Part of my despair came from the realization that I could no longer pretend. I didn’t know how to come through it. One morning, I awoke around six o’clock and left the hotel room to walk alone along the Santa Monica beach. The only other people out at that time of the morning were the bums who sleep on the concrete benches in the park above the beach. They were already up peeing in the ocean and doing whatever other morning ablutions they perform. I felt totally “other” from them. They were not my brothers, and I wanted to get far away from them. I took off my sandals and walked on the hard sand that borders the dry sand and is constantly wetted by the waves, which lapped up on to my feet and ankles leaving me cold and more numb than I already felt. The ocean was on my left, the mountains on my right. I noticed for the first time that the mountains were visible to the east! The sun was barely up. I was overcome by the sudden realization that this was a morning of beauty. Everything seemed particularly beautiful. I can’t describe the day because it was nothing special. And that is why I was so struck. My eyes were somehow open to the fact that I was in all this beauty, which was so ordinary that I might have missed it on any other day or merely thought, “What a beautiful day.” But no, the ordinary is extraordinary. The everyday mundane is exquisite – every day. How to I say what I am trying to say? I have to let it stand as it is. At the same time that I became aware of the unnecessary beauty of an ordinary day the words came into my mind that this (“ this world,” “this universe,” “this existence” “this all” “all” is the best choice here) was created through love. Love is the power of creation. That’s it. Love. Nothing else. Just love. And this love is powerful. I don’t like to talk about this. Words make my most profound life experience trivial. One more thing came from this: nothing is required, nothing.
This is my simple religion: there is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple. The philosophy is kindness.
The Dalai Lama (I might add, “and love.”)
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
