Straight A Student

A parable came to me, the other day, after I heard a friend put words to something I have long felt, but not quite realized. The last several years have seen a faith crisis for myself. It all started with feelings of betrayal. My parable tells the emotions. My friend's quote sets the stage. 

"These are spiritual giants. These are people who did amazing things on their missions. People you can have a gospel discussion with. Young adults that will blow you away with their knowledge and their intensity and their passion for mormonism. And if we have made the church toxic for the products of its own "thing"? The church teaches us to be thoughtful and rational about our religion. To research and get an education. To be passionate, to be idealists. And then it will punish you. They will punish you for thinking anymore, for researching, for being an idealist, for actually wanting us to practice what we preach. For telling the truth."

*~*~*~*~*

PARABLE OF THE STRAIGHT A STUDENT

A girl went to school. She was assured she would pass if she got straight D grades, but she should try for A's and B's. This girl was not satisfied with D's. So this girl got to work. 

Year after year she found success in school. She got A's and B's through middle school, and by the time she reached High School, A-'s were about as bad as things got. She studied. She wrote. She read. Her last two years of High School she had one A- each year, the rest of her grades straight A's. 

Sometimes she beat herself up that she wasn't Valedictorian. She wasn't even close, if she was being honest. But that was her goal. She lived in constant disappointment with herself, that she had not attained the perfection she was looking for. 

She got a full-ride scholarship to college. She cried herself hoarse the first year there, when her full-ride scholarship went down to half tuition for only one semester, because she'd made a foolish decision to transfer some math college credits over to the school from high school, not realizing that it would affect her college GPA. She worked her butt off, got straight A's, as usual, and had her full-ride scholarship back by the next semester. 

This girl graduated, went on to get a job, and was told, at that point, that her professional conclusions and "diagnoses" were unwelcome. She was told her role in the company was to "sit down and shut up," and let the higher-ups determine work policies and procedures. Her fresh, new, knowledgable insights were unwelcome, as they challenged the status quo. 

Despite all her learning, despite all her striving for knowledge and attention to detail, her voice and conclusions were now unwelcome. It didn't matter what she knew. It didn't matter how well she'd done. It didn't even matter how dedicated she was to continuing with her obssessive work ethic. Her thoughts were unwelcome. They didn't want her education. They were happier doing what they'd always done, without her.

*~*~*~*~*

This parable, when told in the context of a student in school, is easy not to judge. We've all worked for companies that aren't interested in change, even if it's for the better, even if it's more profitable, or is more ethical in practice and policy. Even if it's in the best interest of the population being served. 

It's easy to assume this straight-A student might be conceited too, though, thinking she knows how to take over and fix everything, when, by your conclusions, she has no practical world experience, and might just be operating on impossible standards and perfect scenarios she was fed throughout schooling. 

But let's say she was employed by the education system itself. 

This was my experience with my faith crisis. I think I'm going to talk about it. 

I was a "Straight-A Mormon." I worshipped the For the Strength of the Youth pamphlet. I served in the highest callings a female of my age could. I spoke with God regularly. 

"We don't drink and we don't chew, and we don't go with guys that do." I was so into the For the Strength of the Youth pamplet that I didn't even go with guys. Fifteen year old asked me out? Ask me again in 3 months, when you're 16. My friends are kissing people? Are you serious? You're not supposed to be steady-dating until that guy is an RM, ladies! It's in the book!

I lost friendships over offering my well-intentioned "repentance" advice. I immersed myself in the scriptures, in trips to do baptisms at the temple. I went to college. I almost slipped and got a B grade in college, when a guy obviously liked my butt, but NO. I slammed a chess-set into his groin with the courage of Joseph fleeing Potiphar's wife, and dumped him the next day. 

Straight A Mormon. I lived with no regrets. 

Having my authority and valiancy questioned was A turning point. God told me to go through the temple for my endowment. If a command comes from God, you follow it, obviously! After a week of preparation, I proudly went to meet with the Bishop, and told him it was time, and I needed a recommend. 

He told me no. I told him God had told me to do it, and he told me no. I was prepared to slit the throat of a lamb at the alter if that was a part of the ceremony, but the bishop thought I might not be ready for everything that happens there. He came between me and God, and, through implication, told me I was mistaken about God telling me I was ready, because HE didn't think I was. God hadn't told me anything. 

I was just a woman, so obviously I backed down. Isn't that what you're supposed to do, when you say that you'll sustain them?

Upon graduating college, God told me to go on a mission. I'm a Straight A Mormon, so I turned down the job offer I'd just received, and went. Depression was eating me alive, my introversion was tearing at my soul, being with a companion 24/7, but I went. I did my best to obey every rule. I cried multiple times over dinner appointments taking more than the commanded 1 hour. It had felt right to stay, to love the members, but I had disobeyed the white handbook and the mission president. I wept for my perceived sins and weaknesses regularly. I just wanted to do what was right. 

After a year, God told me to go home. It was sudden, it was off-putting, and I was fearful. I was afraid I was weak. I was afraid I had somehow failed God, that he was disappointed in me. Was I a borderline D grade Mormon, when I was trying so hard to be an A? God assured me that my "grade" was fine, but that He had other plans for me. I told the mission president. He didn't say anything outright judgemental, but he also appeared skeptical when I told him that God had made this order, not me. No "Congrats on listening to the Spirit, even when it's hard and scary." Just an accepted resignation. It felt like, he too, believed that God had not told me anything, because he disagreed.

I returned home dishonored. It was no letter on my file, but it was in the silence. It was in not being invited to speak as return missionaries do, in Sacrament Meeting. It was no one asking how my mission had been, no one wanting to hear the stories that missionaries love to share. It was nothing. 

I got married shortly thereafter - probably the reason God wanted me home. I'm a difficult personality to match, and God certainly directed that match. My husband was a good man. But surprisingly, he wasn't perfect. This was no Valedictorian Mormon who was appointed by gender to stand between me and God. I'd never needed a mortal intermediary before. Why now, and why such an imperfect one, when before I'd had Jesus? 

God assured me that wasn't right. I was correct. The temple had it wrong. The church had it wrong.

My church taught me to talk to God, and it was something I did well. But now, it seemed, everyone, everywhere, wished that I wasn't, and shamed me for doing so, with quiet judgements thrown my way every time I got an answer from God that they disagreed with, that I was being faithless and deceived by Satan. 

My friend's quote, earlier, was right. I was very much raised in this Church, met all their goals, and was very much their product. 

But because I took the message as seriously as I did, and made God my guide, I was no longer welcome. I have felt ostracized. 

I long to participate. I long for the days when I was young, when my faithfulness was never questioned. Now my friends have told me, "I always looked up to you, when it came to religion. But I can't talk to you about it anymore."

Nothing I have to offer is wanted. It's a message received through silence.

I am a product of this Church, but I no longer want to be a Straight A Mormon.  Straight A Mormonism failed me, and called me a dangerous liar and a failure, because I did it too well. 

My goal, now, is to be a Straight A Christian, because somewhere along the line, the Church gave me the message, loud and clear, that the two were mutually exclusive, and that, to them, I have passed my "Sell By" date. 

Mean Girls

 I’m a Democrat, which means Utah County is a hard place for me to live in general. I also am an amateur historian. I am a Mormon, and as someone who loves history, I have some natural concerns about my religion’s history, truth claims, etc. But frankly, I’ve been able to move on and accept that my church offers a lot of good, and mistakes of the past don’t disqualify my church from still being a place of much good.

This year has been different, though. Democrats, like me, have been met with outright hostility. Getting gas in my car in American Fork, with my babies in the car, a couple guys noticed my Biden sign in the back, and took it upon themselves to deliberately block my car in and step inside the gas station. Not outright threatening, but I also couldn’t leave until they felt inclined to allow me to. (They had Trump flags, which is what makes me assume this is why it happened.) 

I have been afraid. My close neighbors, who are part of my Mormon congregation have a generous handful of Trump flags STILL flying. My mother is an immigrant, and filed for citizenship for the first time in over 30 years, last year, because she was genuinely afraid of what that man might do. I feel like my neighbors are willing to overlook the actual fear and tears that my family has shed because of Trump. But my feelings don’t matter to them. (It’s even on their flags.) 

I figured 2020 would be done soon, that I could continue to move on, and try to forgive my neighbors for turning a blind eye to the concerns of people like me, and other marginalized members of our society that have been suffering. I figured I could forgive and move on. Nobody’s perfect. Even Mormons.

But this last week FAIR Mormon released a dozen or so videos that reek of that same alt-right spirit of “screw what you think,” boasting about how “there’s an answer to everything, you anti’s!” (My interpretation.) I have never considered myself anti. But I also know they’re not correct. The facts they presented were misleading. They were not right, but more importantly, their spirit was not right. Once again, I felt like I was being shoved out, and told to leave my religion, because I’m not the same.

I’m not the same as my neighbors. I am not the same. And I’m being told over and over again, loudly, that you have to be the same, or you’re not welcome. We reject you, and you’re an idiot, and we don’t care about you or believe you, if you’re not the same. 

For the first time in my life I’m deeply considering leaving my church, because of all the bad fruits I see it bare. It doesn’t have to be perfect. I know that. But it should at least be good. And I’m not seeing that goodness.

I believe that our leaders should help people, not hurt them. I believe our leaders ought to be chosen for their ability to love, not their ability to enact influence over innocent people because of their own personal bigotries. I desire theologians, not businessmen. Leaders, not managers. 

Instead we choose to follow men who encourage us not to think. Cruelly they subscribe to the notion that “the end justifies the means,” all while assigning their own values and weaknesses to God, in essence, throwing God under the bus for the sake of their own image. 

For me, Utah Mormons have taken the ideal of “being correct” as their God, forgetting that God is Love. They seek for the comfort of being “right,” and anyone who disagrees with them can be completely ignored and discredited. Because Mormons do not seek for understanding. They choose to trust every word of the prophets. They choose ignorance over personal authority. This cultural attitude comes easily from a religion founded on truth claims of being "the only" truth, etc. It is so easy for people in this culture to assume that there is only one way to behave and believe that is appropriate, and it is whatever the current prophet teaches. But even prophets past have stirred up alt-right propaganda, doing their best to teach, from the pulpit, the evils of differing political parties and ideals. Many have failed to see the men behind those statements, seeing, instead, a prophetic political injunction. But as someone who is well aware of our church’s convoluted history, I feel no obligation to believe in only one truth, and only one correct form of belief. 

I want to move. I want my religion to work for me, but the only way I see that happening is by moving, gambling on fate to bring me to some happy, liberal, nuanced place. At this point, to move somewhere else would require so much sacrifice, however, with only a risked hope of the good outcome of being welcome in the doors of my church once more. 

It makes me so angry that I even feel forced into this choice by people of my own faith, because of their unwillingness to tolerate and appreciate differences lovingly. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like I belong, let alone like I was valued, which would have offered me some form of self-actualization here.

Instead, choosing to stay in a church I already have different beliefs about, is only choosing to be ostracized. It feels like I’m choosing to subject myself to emotional and spiritual abuse if I stay, accepting others’ condescension and assumptions that there will always be something wrong, or “less than” about me. I resent my neighbors for that, when they don’t even see the self-respect and my own self-worth being sacrificed each time I try to carve out a space for me to stay with them. It is difficult to know what to do when you want to belong, but you’re told, through action, words, and cold shoulders that you can’t. 

I am the nerdy girl approaching the Mean Girls table in the lunchroom, because some of the girls at the table CAN be kind. But the Mean Girls don’t want me, one of them is whittling and whistling, and there are other nice tables...

Dishonorable Departures

I'm a Mormon. Obviously I'm the type of Mormon that still claims to be a "Mormon" despite the name having gone out of fashion in the last few years. I'm going to keep using it, though. I side with Gordon B Hinckley on this one. Besides. Any other statement of church affiliation is a mouthful. "I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints." is a bit much, when you're introducing yourself to your very Utahn next door neighbor, you know? Jesus is more chill than perhaps we give Him credit for. He's the kind of guy who doesn't care about the best seats in the synagogue and the respectful greetings in the marketplace, you know? He said so.

Anyway! I'm a Mormon! Having been born and raised as such, I've been sitting in church pews for over 4,000 hours. And that is being EXCEPTIONALLY generous, not counting seminary, institute, general conferences, firesides, personal study, THE MISSION FIELD, infancy, etc. 

The point is, I have been SCHOOLED on my religion. I know A LOT. And one of the things that I learned, over and over again, is that you STAY IN THE BOAT. Right? 

Brigham Young said it first: "We are in the midst of the ocean. A storm comes on, and, as sailors say, she labors very hard. 'I am not going to stay here,' says one; 'I don't believe this is the "Ship Zion."' 'But we are in the midst of the ocean.' 'I don't care, I am not going to stay here.' Off goes the coat, and he jumps overboard. Will he not be drowned? Yes. So with those who leave this Church. It is the 'Old Ship Zion,' let us stay in it."

This sentiment has been echoed in recent years by Elder M Russell Ballard, and Elder and Sister Renlund. The concept remains the same, and in these two cases, the analogy remains a boat at sea as well. Don't leave the Church. You are being short-sighted if you do, and you will find yourself adrift in a dangerous sea. Brigham Young added, confidently, that you would drown if you left. 

This is a message I grew up with, and believed in. The obsessive personality of my youth carried me in that Old Ship Zion, sailing the seas in the comfort of moral superiority. I felt sorry for those who were so short-sighted as to leave behind the surety of truth that came from following the prophet. 

In more recent years I have come to understand that it is not so simple. President Dieter F Uchtdorf said it perfectly, in his recent talk, "Come Join With Us." He stated, "One might ask, 'If the gospel is so wonderful, why would anyone leave?' Sometimes we assume it is because they have been offended or lazy or sinful. Actually, it is not that simple. In fact, there is not just one reason that applies to the variety of situations. Some of our dear members struggle for years with the question whether they should separate themselves from the Church."

Where others have cast abandoning the Old Ship Zion to be a quick, thoughtless decision, President Uchtdorf has the grace to admit that rarely is the decision so simple. 

David Ostler published a book last year entitled "Bridges: Ministering to Those Who Question." As part of his preparation for this book, Brother Ostler surveyed two different groups on many different questions regarding faith crises in the LDS Church. He interviewed local leaders, as well as self-professed members going through faith crises. (All of these faith crises members met the criteria of still trying to stay positively engaged with the Church.) Many of the conclusions laid out in his book are mind-blowing, frankly. For example:

I love this. Over 90% of local leaders agree or strongly agree that people have faith crises because they were offended. People actually going through faith crises? Only 19% felt that contributed. Not wanting to live the commandments? 84% of leaders assumed that was part of it, while only 9% of members felt that contributed. 

The surveys laid out through Brother Ostler's book (which I obviously highly recommend! At a Deseret Book near you!) show that there is a disconnect between people's lived experiences, and the way that leadership views these experiences. Uchtdorf is a good man, who has obviously talked with people, and understands that! (God bless you, you silver fox, you!) (True story, a elderly single woman on my mission had a huge crush on him, and swooned telling us how excited she was for General Conference. She passed away when I was in my next area. Heavens to Betsy, Uchtdorf, when you die, watch out for her!)

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah. The Ship Zion.

Where did we get the idea that people who leave the Church are just a bunch of lazies who weren't cut out for the Lord's work? Wheat and tares. Where did we get the idea that people who leave the Church are tares? 

Milk strippings. If you're Mormon like me, just hearing the phrase "milk strippings," you probably already know what story I'm going to talk about. Like me, you might have forgotten the guy's name was Thomas Marsh, but you know full well that his wife was skimming the good milk fat (milk strippings) off the top of the bucket and robbing the neighbor they were sharing with, right? When she was called out on it, Thomas Marsh was so OFFENDED he left the Church, now isn't that silly? Aren't people who leave the Church just so short-sighted and really looking for any little excuse to get out of the hard work of creating Zion?

Same with that Symonds Ryder guy. 

Again, another one of those stories we've been told time and time again about another guy just looking for any old lame excuse to jump Ship Zion. (Just saying, the spelling "Symonds" would TOTALLY fly in Utah today. Look at that unnecessary 'Y' and everything!) When was this article published? Oh, that's right. 

2017. And I hid the columnist's name for a good reason. Do you want to know it? 

Because Symonds Ryder didn't leave the Church because of his name's misspelling. Thomas Marsh didn't leave because of milk strippings either. Both of these men left the Church for, arguably, amazingly Christian reasons. (We've heard the 90% confidence that they were "offended" argument from the Church leaders. Do you want to hear their actual stories?)

Sidney Rigdon went off the deep end. He wasn't the only one, but he was the loud one. You probably remember that the Church faced a lot of conflict and difficulty in Missouri. You might see Church videos flash through your head of greasy bearded folk in taverns with guns, Haun's Mill reenactments, and eventually, yes, the "Extermination Order" by Boggs. Unfortunately, Boggs' Extermination Order came three months after Sidney Rigdon's, who was, yes, in the First Presidency. 

Sidney Rigdon stated, at a Fourth of July celebration in 1838: "...It shall be between us and them a war of extermination, for we will follow them till the last drop of blood is spilled, or else they will have to exterminate us; for we will carry the seat of war to their own houses and their own families, and one part or the other shall be utterly destroyed." So yes, Sidney Rigdon totally started it. In later years, even Brigham Young was known to have admitted that Sidney Rigdon was the source of the problems in Missouri.

The Danites were also active at this time. They were, in essence, a secret society with oaths, bound under penalty of death to obedience: "to support the heads of the church in all things that they say or do, whether right or wrong." Danites killed people. According to one, Benjamin Slade, even Sidney Rigdon admitted to killing a man, in a closed-door meeting of Danites. Rigdon had told Orson Hyde "It was the imperative duty of the Church to obey the word of Joseph Smith, or the presidency, without question or inquiry, and that if there were any that would not, they should have their throats cut from ear [to] ear."

Parley P Pratt sniped a guy and he and other Danites cut his jaw off. There was a Danite-led battle, called the Battle of Crooked River, which resulted in the mad-dog revenge killings at Haun's Mill, and subsequently, the entire Liberty Jail incident.

To quote Dieter F Uchtdorf again, and to give us some perspective now, "To be perfectly frank, there have been times when members or leaders in the Church have simply made mistakes. There may have been things said or done that were not in harmony with our values, principles, or doctrine."

That's putting it mildly, but it's appreciated. 

Remember Thomas Marsh? Milk strippings? Thomas Marsh was appalled by what he was seeing. (Rightly so!) Per historian D Michael Quinn, "Horrified by what was happening, the Quorum of the Twelve's president Thomas B Marsh prepared a formal affidavit against these Mormon depredations, for which he was excommunicated and classed as an apostate."

I had to take a breath after I wrote that. Did that feel wrong to you too? I think it most certainly was wrong. I think Thomas B Marsh did nothing wrong. I think he was incredibly brave to call out evil where he saw it being done. And for well over a hundred years, we have done nothing but slander his name and reputation in the church, by implying he was petty, shallow, and faithless.

They used to publish in the Deseret News the list of names of individuals who had been excommunicated. A friend once told me, "That is one of the most toxic things about the church. The church doesn't have an exit strategy that allows you to keep your dignity." When people leave the Church, willingly or unwillingly, they are given labels. Lazy. Unintelligent. Looking for an excuse. Tare. Apostate. Deceived. Lukewarm. Fallen elect. Agitator. Goat. Heretic. Intellectual. Cafeteria Mormon. Confused. 

Tell that to Thomas B Marsh. Tell that to Emma and Lucy Mack Smith. Tell that Oliver Cowdery. Tell that to Symonds Ryder, who saw the Church becoming aggressive and militant as well, and suspected Joseph Smith was trying to confiscate his property once he left on a mission. 

Quinn adds, "There was no loyal opposition within the kingdom of God... Dissent meant defection." 

President Uchtdorf has countered this in the modern era. "There is a place for you." he has insisted, with the understanding that questions, disagreements, and imperfections may exist in each of us. The Church is doing their best to counter the culture of old, where you were IN, or you were OUT. But we have a long way to go. 

We have to stop "otherizing," and have more faith in God, and God's ability to prescribe personalized prescriptions for each of His children. Christ gave us our commandments. Love. That is the greatest commandment, and the one which applies to us all.

I have hope. Some days I have more hope than others. Today I have a lot of hope. 

The more that we follow the commandments of Christ - namely, those two great commandments, the more mercy, grace, and love will abound. Because maybe the Church isn't a "ship." Maybe it's not so black and white. Maybe the Kingdom of God is within us, as Christ taught. Maybe when 2 or 3 are gathered in His name. Maybe it's less about the physical, structured organization, and more about the souls that pass through our lives on a daily basis. The Kingdom is in the eyes of those around you. Maybe people aren't "jumping ship" so much as they are looking for someone to recognize that they have been given their own ships that they carry with them, undaunted and undeterred by others'. 

Out of the Best Books

I went through some discount books at the store, the other day. All books were $1!!! I subscribe to the philosophy that "She who dies with the most books wins." So $1 books is the kind of salvation I can't pass up.

Well, of course I found some. One of them was a copy of Bhagavad Gita! Now, I know that Bhagavad Gita is considered scripture by Hindus worldwide, but I've never actually read any of it! I have read the Koran, enjoyed Khalil Gibran's The Prophet, and felt that I would be remiss - a criminal - if I didn't buy this book too! So I did, I brought it home, and I began to thumb through it. 

I found a beautiful thing in it! (Many, but one in particular that made me ponder.) What struck me about this passage was the familiarity it held, for me, as a Mormon. 

As a Mormon, I have learned and similarly taught others about there being three degrees of glory, in Heaven. I find comfort in this doctrine! These "degrees" are all kingdoms of glory - a sign of a loving God. It makes eternity not so black and white, Heaven or Hell. There is room made for varying degrees of goodness. 

In Chapter 14 of the Bhagavad Gita, we see a familiar vein. The Bhagavad Gita teaches that there are three "modes" of material nature, modes which "condition" living entities in their presence. Basically, this concept means that all living people are conditioned to one of three modes. They become and live in one of these three states. These three modes, or states of being, will dictate their futures upon their deaths. Three degrees of glory? I thought so.

I enjoyed reading of these three modes. In degree from lowest to highest:

Ignorance, Passion, & Goodness.

I've pondered on these three modes. I've pondered on which level I find myself living. Bhagavad Gita lists how these modes or ways of being are born, or how people come to be in the stage they are, and also lists the results of these modes - madness, fruits of action, happiness. While I have my disagreements with many aspects of the book, and all the parallels drawn, there are aspects and points made that I have found great value in.

Doctrine and Covenants 88:118 states: "Seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith."

What are these best books? Answers have differed and varied on the matter. What is "best?" What is "wisdom?" Do they really want us to teach out of "every" good book we find wisdom in, or is there a standard of what is "best enough" to teach out of? 

My son, Dexter, is a huge fan of the Dr. Seuss book "I Wish that I Had Duck Feet." After about the 500th read, I noticed something beautiful from this children's book. Big Bill Brown is the book's antagonist. As our main character takes upon himself many animal traits, such as duck feet, a whale spout, deer horns, a long long tail, we see him frequently describe how his having these animal traits will affect Big Bill Brown.

Big Bill Brown can't wear as many hats as our protagonist could, with deer horns. With a whale spout, our protagonist could play Big Bill Brown "off his feet" in a game of tennis. With a long, long tail, Big Bill Brown might tie our protagonist in a tree, which would be unfortunate indeed. But, with an elephant trunk, he could, in retribution, sneeze, and blow Big Bill Brown down. 

In the end, our hero deduces that none of these animal traits are just right for him, due to unfortunate consequences of each, so, naturally, he should just have ALL the traits together, and be a Which-What-Who. By having all these animal properties, though, he concludes that he would be a freak of nature, (my words), and would be thrown in a cage like an animal. The beautiful touching part I noticed?  

Big Bill Brown is there. And he is sad to see our protagonist caged too.

Oftentimes our enemies are not actually our enemies, AND, you should still feel love and sympathy for people in a bad spot, even if they were a little brat to you earlier. 

Similarly, I once heard a man pull wisdom, in a podcast, out of the Stephen King book "It." 

"It" is about an evil spirit demon "thing" that preys on small children, killing them in terrible ways, specific to their own individual fears, if I'm remembering correctly. (I tried to watch the movie. I did not like it. I have a hard time with Stephen King and what he does with child characters, as well as general horror/gore.) 

In the book "It," a group of children do their best to hunt down the monster It, and try to kill it. They almost succeed, and swear to each other that if It comes back again, they will reunite and take down the monster again! They apparently succeeded in getting rid of it for 27 years, when one of the characters, Mike, now 27 years older than his childhood self, notices the same strange happenings and murders of children starting to occur again. 

In pondering on how his calling his old childhood friends will be received, he writes, 

"How much will they believe? Enough to end this horror once and for all, or only enough to get them killed? They are being called. I know that much. Each murder in this news cycle has been a call. We almost killed It twice, and in the end, we drove It deep in Its warren tunnels of stinking rooms under the city. But I think It knows another secret. Although It may be immortal, or almost so, we are not. It had only to wait until the act of faith which made us potential monster killers, as well as sources of power, had become impossible. 27 years. Perhaps a period of sleep for It - as short and refreshing as an afternoon nap would be for us. And when It awakes, It is the same. But a third of our lives has gone by. Our perspectives have narrowed. Our faith in the magic, which makes magic possible, has worn off, like the shine on a new pair of shoes after a hard days walking."

The dedication of this book, written by Stephen King to his own children reads: "Kids, fiction is the truth inside the lie, and the truth of this fiction is simple enough: the magic exists."

The podcaster concluded: "When I read the dedication, it resonated with me. And one of the reasons it resonated with me was because it so perfectly described why it is that I have come to the point in my life, where I can consider the Book of Mormon to be scripture, without considering it to be historical. I can consider the Book of Mormon to be true without considering it to have actually happened in real time and space, with real characters playing out real events in real history. And that's one of the things that's so wonderful about this quote, is that it recognizes that truth can be told inside of a lie."

That hit me HARD. It was beautiful, and was something I absolutely needed to hear! Stephen King's "It" helped inspire me to continue to see the Book of Mormon as scripture. 

Take THAT. Best books? Words of wisdom?

It was for me. Yup. Creepy clown with a red balloon? The Book of Mormon is scripture. Joseph Smith Jr was inspired by God.

The best books might teach you about mindfulness, they might teach about the Zoroastrian fundamentals of "good thoughts, good words, good deeds." The best books might show you a hero who, despite no one believing in a danger he knew he saw, was able to defeat that danger, He Who Must Not Be Named, by trusting in faithful friends and the right old man's advice. He leaned on and relied on the works of others who had gone on and died trying to combat this same evil before him. (Harry Potter. I'm talking about Harry Potter.) There are things we can learn from the best books. 

What books are you learning from today?

Modesty

I saw a handsome man's butt the other day. I wasn't even related to him.

But I'll get back to that.

Today I listened to the latest podcast by At Last She Said It, a podcast run by some faithful LDS women with "ideas." (AKA - they're feminists.) I love these ladies, and have enjoyed listening to their podcasts, which seek to address "women's issues" in the Church. 

The latest episode was all about clothing, specifically, about how we address modesty with our youth, and especially with our young women. Now, with my history of Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder, the For the Strength of the Youth pamphlet put out by our church used to be like a little mini bible to me, and that pamphlet had more than enough to say about Dress and Attire. With my OCPD driving my moral compass, and the drive I had to inflict my morals on those around me, I was quite a little "modesty Nazi" growing up. I've done all the arguing there is to be had, on modesty. LANP was once a battle cry. (Leggings Are Not Pants.)

But as I've gotten older, as my disorder has become quieter, and as I've come to learn that leggings are just danged more comfy to lounge around in, I've had to reevaluate what "truth" is, and confront the uncomfortable fact that in many ways, I was wrong. 

I once wrote a lengthy essay, many years ago, on modesty as a Zion principle - that our actions all affect each other, and if something unnecessary we are doing is creating difficulty for another person, maybe we shouldn't do that anymore. I hold that this is true in many ways. Look at masks. (My current moral hobby horse, I know.) It is unnecessary to fight the good anti-mask fight, and not wearing masks is making people get sick, so maybe you shouldn't fight that fight. Just wear the mask and help your community, because that is a principle of Zion - what is best for "us," rather than selfish living.

I wrote my Zion Modesty article while begrudging legging wearing. I had it on good authority from many men that I was good friends with that leggings, which hide nothing, were "tempting." I was worried about my boy friends! I inherited a pair of leggings from a DI bag a year or so later, which, to my chagrin, I found to be soft, comfortable and forgiving at the waistline, while simultaneously being the least restrictive option for kneeling and general unladylike behavior like driving with one foot on the seat, or lounging over an armrest, which I was fond of. So I wore them in the confines of my own home as a guilty pleasure. 

With motherhood and stay-at-home motherhood in particular, I found that comfort and lounging became high priorities for me. In addition to leggings at home, soon followed no longer wearing makeup, and generally becoming more comfortable in my own skin - accepting who I was, wrinkles, rolls, and all! I even wore leggings out of the house! I embraced Mom Life! And in that embrace I recognized my motivations. I didn't wear leggings because I wanted to tempt all the men in my vicinity. (If they're into Mom Bods, good on them!) I wore leggings because it was more important for me to be comfortable than to care what anybody else thought about me. I wore leggings because I was humble enough not to be concerned. And in recognizing that slovenly fact about myself, I realized that all those years ago, I had not given that benefit of the doubt to the other women in my life.

For me, the Zion principle never changed - but wearing leggings wasn't as "unnecessary" as I had once thought, and "tempting" men was something impossible to avoid, so, rather, coping mechanisms and healthy relationships and sexuality with others were more important to prioritize in teaching those youth. The slovenly lifestyle was necessary for me - it helped me embrace my "expanding" (YUP) Mom body, and realize that my worth was so much more than any perception by myself or others of my body, beauty, etc. 

Listening to At Last She Said It's podcast today, one story struck me as beautiful. The mom asked her swimmer daughter if she had a hard time being around all those other girls and swimmers, wearing a swimsuit all the time, including boys. Her daughter quickly replied "Not at all. I never feel better about myself than when I'm wearing my swimsuit! When I'm wearing my swimsuit, that's the one time it's about what I can do, not about how I look!"

Too often we inadvertently view bodies as just that - bodies. We view them as objects, not instruments. We lose sight of the person, the spirit, because of the shell. And I realized that shells matter a lot less than I used to give them credit for. 

At the beginning of this post I mentioned that I saw a handsome man's butt the other day. That's 100% fact. No lie. No trickery. I saw his butt. Well, just one cheek. 

I was at a tattoo parlor. (Hey, you don't know me!) (Or you don't know tattoo parlors...) ;) A joke came over the radio overhead, and a handsome gentleman stepped from the back of the store towards the front, into view. He was laughing, and started chatting with another guy, who was in the part of the parlor I was in about the joke. I remember looking over my shoulder and seeing him. His smile was contagious, as was his grin and easygoing persona. While joking with his friend, he made me love humanity.

He had on only underwear. Boxers. Purple, with one leg pulled up and tucked into his crack to expose one white cheek. Obviously he was getting some cheeky art done! But that was far from the first thing I noticed about him, and was far from the last thing I remembered about him either. His JOY was his defining feature.

It took me until my drive home to realize just what had happened. This gentleman had been OUTRAGEOUSLY immodest in front of me! And I hadn't been tempted to sin in the slightest! 

Over the last several weeks I have thought back on this man and his butt cheek several times. That sounds creepy, but it's actually not. I realized something very important about modesty! It's not about the clothes. It was never about the clothes. Clothing style is cultural and ever changing. (Even garments, my LDS friends. Even garments.) It's not about the clothes. It never was. And we need to stop pretending that it is, because it does women and men a great disservice, and gives us unhealthy views about each other. 

If we gender reversed things, seeing that man's butt might have really given me a hard time. If Mormon boys were raised on the same lessons Mormon girls are, and everybody knew what was being expected of them, I would have assumed that man was a sinner, for flaunting his body shamelessly in front of people. (He was getting a tattoo, so obviously he WAS a sinner, right, but I mean, apart from that...) ;) I would have seen skin in a private place that had been drilled into me that I was NOT supposed to see, and I would have felt shame for everybody, and embarrassment. I would have dwelt on that shame, and thought about that butt, and the shame, and the nakedness, and the perversity of it all would have the potential to drive me to some real problems. I might even be angry at him for not covering himself up better! 

But he did nothing wrong. He was a beautiful, happy man who made me feel hope for the world!

Yet in our culture, we can't seem to see women the same way. 

Instead we shame them for their bodies, then wonder why Utah has more plastic surgeons per capita than LA. Because we have raised children in a culture with an unhealthy obsession about women's bodies. Women's bodies which victimize us, betray us, and steal away our men's hearts!!!

The podcast also told the story of a woman who was tired of rushing to the mail before everyone else in the family, so that she could cut the underwear advertisements out of the paper before her family looked at it. 

Women's bodies are unavoidable. We should not insist on protecting men from women's bodies, inadvertently oversexualizing all of them against their will by default. Women are sexualized in all their forms and, heaven forbid, situations. I'm sorry, but women have to grocery shop. Women deserve to buy underwear. Women deserve to be comfortable in their own skin. Who are we protecting from who, and why? Is there not a better way to address the real concern? At what point can we expect men to be responsible for their own physical attractions? Physical attractions which, get this, even girls feel when looking at men, too. 

Frankly, I think we need to have more lessons on modesty for the men. How dare they shove those pectorals in our faces, with those suit coats squaring out and extenuating those broad, powerful shoulders... 

What a slut.

But wait...

...Maybe the Church is giving men the modesty lesson, and I've just been missing it. Here I was, thinking they were telling men to be clean shaven because they were anti-hippie, but maybe, just maybe, they know... They know how beards make us ladies feel...

A Letter to the General Relief Society Presidency

My name is Grace, and I am reaching out to you as a distressed member of the church. Heads up! Everybody deserves fair warning, right? ;) I am writing this letter with no address or permission to send it to you, so here it goes. I'm writing this to you after the conclusion of General Conference, as I feel troubled. 

I watched Women’s Session yesterday evening from the solitude of my bedroom, where I was quarantining pending a COVID test result. (Negative. We’re good!) I struggled with Women’s Session. I loved every talk up until the Brethren started talking. Their words felt out-of-touch, and not just because they’re men. They felt out of touch because the way that they were speaking carried heavy tones of sexism. President Eyring outright stated that there would be more women in heaven than men! 

Equality in our church led me through a faith crisis when I got married, and had to face the bitter reality that my husband did NOT fit the image of an elusive knight in shining armour who was going to save me, like I had been led to believe, but was, in fact, just my equal. The wording in the temple, at the time, drove home the fact that our church held, in doctrine and practice, the standard of inequality. My husband WAS supposed to be seen as that savior to me, coming between me and my god. Getting married was the biggest demotion I’d ever received. Things are better, now, but my husband is still assigned the role to “preside” in the temple, something that by very definition is not equality.

President Eyring’s passing comment hurt me immensely, and brought back a flood of anger and upset. See, when I was in college, at BYU-Idaho, some well-intentioned teacher had taught in a class the old doctrine that there would be no female “Sons of Perdition.” I remember stewing on it for months, and upon returning home, one night devolved into a weeping mess with my mother in her bed. “It’s not fair!” I cried. “It’s like women just aren’t worth as much! It’s like we’re less accountable! I can’t even go to Hell if I want to!” My mother righteously corrected me, for which I will always be grateful. “Oh trust me.” she calmed. “You can go to Hell.”

President’s Eyring’s statement that there would be more women in Heaven than men was reminiscent of this old doctrine that caused me so much pain. Only two logical conclusions can be drawn, if we are to believe this statement.

First - Women are less accountable than men. (Those sweet, sweet spirits…)

Second - Men are naturally just more terrible. 

I reject both of these notions. Men and women are different, yes. But as the adage goes, “Don’t judge me because I sin differently than you.” Women may not murder as many people, but we definitely aren’t “just better.” I have sons. I have a husband. I reject that as pure, though perhaps well-intentioned, sexism. My concern is that this tradition is carried forward and being taught because it has, historically, been used as a justification for polygamy - if there are more women in heaven than men, polygamy is justified. It is being taught, however, without appreciating the more significant implications about worth and equality.

In this church there is no equality between the genders. I can appreciate there are differences between genders, but this is a church that serves men more than women. The Relief Society Presidency doesn’t speak in Priesthood Session of conference. Why do the Brethren feel the need to step all over this rare opportunity we have, as women, to have a session just for us? To actually hear women speak in a way that we relate to, and feel heard! Do the men not trust us women, or see us as capable, to handle one of ten sessions each year on our own? 

I am reminded of President Chieko Okazaki who, tactfully, expressed her disappointment that the Relief Society Presidency was not consulted with, in the writing of the Family Proclamation. In a church where women’s needs, concerns, and insights are seen as an afterthought or a token voice, there will be no equality. (Don’t even get me started on our blatant anti-ERA past, subservient to the Brethren Relief Society callings, etc.)

I mentioned that inequality in the church led me through a faith crisis. I have given my entire life to God. I have been an active, temple recommend holder my entire life. I receive regular personal revelation. I feel confident in saying that I know God, and that God approves of me. I love and trust God more than anything, and have taken countless risks in my life because God told me too, and I learned to trust. It was declining a job offer. Going on a mission. Marrying my husband. (I had some real commitment issues, and God had to hit me multiple times over the head, including with direct words, that I needed to marry that man.) 

I have followed God through all of these challenges, trials, and risks, and I include the risk that I have felt directed to in my faith crisis. God has told me to disagree. God has told me to say unpopular things, and study our unpopular history. I have come to conclusions about many of these things, conclusions that are unpopular. I let my temple recommend lapse, and have felt nothing but God’s blessing and support for the decision I made to act with integrity in that decision to do so. It hurts. It hurts to feel like my church, my “tribe,” views me as “less than” for doing what God has told me to do, and believing what God has told me is true. But I trust God well enough to know that I should press on.

I am hurting in this church. I hurt because of this church every day. But I stay, because like Eugene England stated, “The church is as true as the gospel.” You just don’t become a better person in any other setting, and yes, that is often through trials.

I reach out to you because I don’t want inequality to be one of those trials for me anymore, or for anybody else. I know I stand with God on the issue - that I can go to Hell like any man, and I will gain exaltation through the same judgement which will be meted my brothers! I am not a fragile thing to be pedestaled and admired from a distance, but rather a comrade, a “helpmeet” in the purest form. 

I don’t know if there’s anything that can be done, realistically. It has been a long time since I have felt the blind belief that the church would only ever help me. But I hold out hope that many of our leaders are genuinely good people trying to do what is right. Surely, if they heard my cries, they would do something to fix it, wouldn’t they?

I am a woman with a lot of faith in God, and not very much in man. (God is okay with this.) I know I am not the only one suffering in this way. Heck, there are support groups with thousands of members trying to stay actively engaged in the church despite their nuanced beliefs and differences. 

Will the church make a place for feminists? I’m not asking you to Ordain Women. (Secretly, I feel like we regressed there a bit, but I’m not going to push it.) I just want to know that women are equal, and though we’ve made significant steps in the right direction, in the words of a friend of mine, “I’m just so tired of being expected to be grateful for crumbs.” 

Can the general Relief Society Presidency operate a little more independently? Call their own successors like the brethren do? Can we have Women’s Sessions where a man doesn’t demand the final word by virtue of his divine authority? Where, maybe, men don’t even feel entitled to give their opinion or speak at all? In the least, can we have a Women’s Session where we don’t have to be subjected to patronizing, pedestaling tones from the men, and veiled attacks on our equality, or constant reminders of our “place” in the priesthood, beneath the brethren? (Priesthood does NOT equal “the ability to pray to God and get God’s help,” so no, women don’t have it in the sense that the men do, no matter how we try to spin it.) 

I’m sorry. I know my tone gets grumpy. I’m really tired of the struggle. I’m tired of losing friends and family to the struggle. I have had so many friends and family members step away from the church because of these mortal problems, and the fact that leadership seems unwilling to recognize or admit to the mortality of these problems. Fallibility is written into our doctrine, and yet it is so hard to admit to, at times. It is admitting Brigham Young said crazy things. It’s admitting we were wrong when we said it was doctrine that blacks couldn’t have the priesthood until every white man had it. I’m obviously very open to the idea that polygamy could have been a mortal invention. But knowing that there have been mortal mistakes made and claimed as doctrine DOES leave the door open for changes in these matters of equality. Do we truly believe in equality between men and women, like the Book of Mormon states, or do we just pay it lip service while still placing exclusively men at the top of the chain of every command?

I was frustrated, during COVID, that our Area Authority vetoed our ability to hold online church services locally. I am someone that very much appreciates fellowshipping with the saints, despite all my opinionated ways making me rough around the edges. I joined with wards in other parts of the world, but eventually, my frustration with what I deemed to be an unrighteous ruling vetoing local online services led me to finding local online services outside of our faith. 

I attended online services with Community of Christ, and found beautiful fellowship there. I glimpsed equality in the church, and knowing that it was the church of the son of Joseph helped me see that equality was and is possible. Reading the history of Emma Smith, I know that equality is possible. Equality is certainly compatible with the vision Joseph Smith Jr had, though it is far from what exists presently. 

I want to belong in this church. I find value in our rituals, in our teachings, in the empowering relationships with deity that are fostered and grown from our earliest youth. We are a church of service, of goodness and kindness. At times we are mortal and we screw up, but I hope that we can continue to strive for a Zion society of equality, and not let fear of looking “mortal” hold us back from progressing forward when we recognize or learn new truths. 

A sincerely trying member,

Grace

Tonight

Tonight we went for a drive. We often like to drive to new places. Tonight it was a church parking lot up the hill from our house. We got out of the car and ran around, burning off some energy and playing in the decorative rocks before bedtime.

I took my shoes off. It was cool and windy, and the asphalt still had a pleasant warmth from before the clouds had rolled in. So, with warm bare feet and cold wind whipping my hair, my husband and I chased our kids around, and "ate" rocks. (They were strawberry cakes. For Jesus' birthday, per my oldest.)

The weather was my kind of perfect. I have always loved the wind. I love the rain. I love me a good storm. I know that storms often depress people, but for me there's something about that thick storm air that is invigorating. So taking my shoes off, getting in some good "grounding" time there, I felt close to God. 

But also so very very sad.

Just across a field from our parking lot was the Saratoga Springs Temple construction site. It absolutely looks like an Orthanc on a dead plain. No insult to construction. I know building buildings takes time, but this is also one temple I'm not happy to see go up. It feels so unnecessary, with eventually no fewer than ELEVEN temples within a one hour drive from our home. That's not an exaggeration. When the construction is done on the next two, there will be ELEVEN. ELEVEN in one hour.

Seeing this temple makes me feel that we've lost the vision of what temples are supposed to be for, so now they're status and power symbols, rather than ascension symbols. They're symbols of prosperity rather than an Axis Mundi. To me, the hypocrisy level is high as the Church continues to build more temples where no more are needed, and we still have a grossly unfathomable slush fund of wealth. While there are still poor Mormon kids starving to death in third world countries, while their parents are told to pay their tithing instead of feeding their children. To me it seems wrong. It seems like the Church is trying to help their own image instead of God's own children. In these tithes and offerings they have robbed God - taking meat from the house for themselves, so to speak.

Feeling the wind, feeling the warm asphalt, hearing my children laugh, I was close to God. 

"The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit." John 3:8

The wind can bring hurricanes. It brings life-giving rain. It destroys in tornadoes. It parted the Red Sea. The wind can sweep your feet out from under you. It can dry a tear. 

The work of the Spirit isn't something we can completely understand. It's giving reassurances and peace, while simultaneously giving dark, honest truths - things which seem to contradict one another, and yet it is manageable. THAT is knowledge of both good and evil. 

"As we bow to His leading and guiding, promptings and training, so the indiscernible, unfathomable movement of the Spirit of God can be observed in the man or woman whose life is yielded to the Lord." (Knowing Jesus.com) 

It is hard to be a nuanced Mormon. But it makes me grateful for stormy nights.

Parables and Parallels

Jesus taught in parables, a fact that I've latched onto multiple times throughout my life. 

Parables are fantastic. Parables are a fantastic way to learn "line upon line." A story can change meaning for you from one day to the next. Parables are symbols in action. 

Recently I had a bit of a "revelation" come to me, through the familiar parable of the Good Samaritan. It came as I pondered on "uncleanness" in the Biblical tradition. It occurred to me that one reason why the priest would have passed by the wounded, beaten man, was because he couldn't be certain the man wasn't already dead. If the priest had touched a dead man, he would have become unclean, and wouldn't have been able to participate in his temple service until he became "clean" again. The priest did not stop to help the wounded man because he had "temple stuff" to do, and wouldn't allow another's uncleanness to come between him and God. He missed the point, however, that "inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me." His concern for becoming "dirty" prevented him from being with God. After some pondering that, I found new ways to apply that to my life, and it taught me things. 

Because parables. Parables and symbols alike, though repeated with the same words or images, time and time again, can mean different things on any given day, often with meanings changing to help answer our own questions of the soul. I, personally, find great comfort in these symbols and symbolic stories. 

The other day I was watching a lecture that included a lot of Egyptian symbology. (One of my favorites.) I found truths in it, and later tried to explain something that had been quite a beautiful revelation to me to my husband. He was polite, but obviously it wasn't as mind blowing/life altering for him as it was for me. Because my husband doesn't speak symbols. 

He doesn't speak symbols?! Symbols are what God uses!!! Parables are what Jesus taught with!!! 

Maybe he'll learn to like them, I told myself. Maybe if he studied enough, learned enough about world history, cultures, historical theology, etc, etc, he would come to like them too. Maybe his ability to find value in the symbolical aspects of religious learning is something that would come with time, with... spiritual maturity. 

Because that's what Jesus used. 

As always, I'm a proud person. It's not unusual for me to automatically assume I'm right. Fortunately, I have a very patient husband who knows this about me, and allows ME the space to learn my own "line upon line." 

Today I figured it out. All of us are different. In the one brief year where I studied Elementary Education, we studied learning styles. I, myself, am a visual and kinetic learner. There's auditory, and reading/writing too. Are any of these learning styles wrong? Are any of them "better" than the others? Maybe some of them are easier in a given learning environment, but no one is "superior" to the others. 

God created all of us, and I believe God created us as individuals, in omnipotent wisdom. I also believe God created a multitude of environments for us children to learn in - Scripture, Prophets, Rituals. Who am I to judge if scripture speaks to my husband more than stories or symbols? Maybe God created Ritual and Isaiah to teach people like me, and had his prophets speak bluntly and with the plainness of the Book of Mormon for people like my husband. 

Is my learning style better? For me, it is. Is his best? For him, it is. 

Frankly, it doesn't matter if Creation stories have been told in ancient temples, by differing groups of people, with intricate parallels to each other and our own religious tradition, for thousands of years, and isn't that symbology beautiful. In the long run, my knowing that stuff doesn't benefit or change anything about my day to day actions in a way that is superior to people like my husband, who doesn't care about that stuff, but is already living a Christian life from doing from what he's learned from reading scriptures. 

All of us are different, and we all learn to draw closer to God in the context that fits our understandings best. 

Because Jesus taught in parables, but He ALSO taught the Sermon on the Mount.

Time, Time, Time

I've been thinking about time. Now, I'll be honest, every time I think about "time," I think of The Bangles singing "Time, time, time, see what's become of me." Bangles songs all have a tactile memory for me too, of sitting on the floor in my bedroom in front of my cassette player, absently flipping the Bangles tape case open and closed while listening. It's memories like this that make it far more believable to me that generations past used to just sit down in the family room to listen to the radio together. Because I did it too.

But Time. I've been thinking about it because a couple friends of mine were talking about a verse from The Book of Mormon. 2 Nephi 25:23. "For we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do." My friends were discussing how this verse has always been difficult for them, because they stress about the second half of the verse and neglect the first half. 

As Mormons, we tend to try REALLY REALLY HARD to be good people. We have a lot of commandments. We have a lot of principles. We have a lot of recommendations. We have a lot of priorities. There's an awful lot of stuff on our "to-do" lists. So often Relief Society lessons include the phrase, "I need to..." and include a list of things that people feel they could and should be doing "better."

People should always try to improve. Improvement isn't something to be avoided, true, but peace and acceptance are also things that we shouldn't avoid. Faith, hope, and grace are also things that should not be avoided. (Hear me, those who avoid me! Do not avoid Grace!)

I pondered on this verse, and the implications my friends were drawing - that the phrase "after all we can do" often makes people feel that God's grace will not save them until they have done EVERYTHING humanly possible to be perfect themselves. 

How could this be interpreted a little more mercifully, I wondered. I feel strongly that God does not condone the ceaseless beating of ourselves that we do in the Church. I love the Book of Mormon, and I wanted to believe that it wouldn't encourage people to such levels of self-flagellation, shame, and never feeling "good enough."

I think I've figured it out. 

It's because God doesn't experience time like we do. 

One of my greatest loves in the Church is the Temple - specifically the initiatory and endowment. This process is one of progression - recognizing our received blessings, responsibility, and potential as children of God. To me it's a very positive, enabling experience, culminating, symbolically, in our reception back into Heaven. 

I've often wondered at the Celestial Room of the temple. The entire endowment experience plays as something that has happened, happens presently, and will be a part of our future. It is a ceremony and experience that transcends time. Unfortunately, that transcendence of time is about as clear as mud, because mortality really sucks, and we mortals have a hard time wrapping our heads around timelessness. But I sincerely believe that as we enter the Celestial Room in the temple, we enter salvation presently. We enter the presence of the Lord NOW. TODAY. If heaven was something meant to happen only after we die, that room would be forbidden us, and yet it is not. We enter heaven in this life. We receive the knowledge that empowers our salvation NOW, not upon our deaths. 

My love for the temple has really come from this kind of contemplation - reception of eternity in the here and now. Recognizing our divinity within and throughout our mortality. Still clear as mud? I know. It definitely is, and I've answered all of your soul's questions.

But I brought this line of thinking into this Book of Mormon verse. Through grace you are saved after all you can do. If I think of this verse with timelessness in mind, I believe that I am saved presently. It's already happened. I've already been accepted into the presence of the Lord. That "after all you can do" applies to my mortality as it is today. It discusses my heart more than any future possible action. I have been saved today. Christ's grace takes over from where I am TODAY. 

It's not about reading my scriptures more tomorrow, or praying more sincerely, or spending more time in service or in the temple, or yelling at my kids less, etc. Those little things aren't going to make a huge difference in what my heart has already become in this mortality - unless I make some serious steps backwards. Christ has already decided to save ME. That's why I was already welcomed into His presence in the temple! When I partake of the Sacrament, it is a feast of gratitude - a happy occasion where we remember having been accepted, and on what terms - Christ's atonement. 

Serious sins need repenting of, obviously yes. But your day to day failings will always exist. I'm sorry. You're mortal. That's not about to change any time soon. You must learn to embrace that Christ's atonement, Christ's grace, makes your Godhood possible TODAY. In God's timelessness, your beginning and your end are as one, and you are already known and accepted of God. "After all you can do" is what direction you point your life and your heart. That pointing of the heart and intent - to Christ - is the simplest, most essential thing you can do daily - that affects all future actions and possibilities. How well you do in this intended direction is just a fudge of numbers. Turning to Christ is what matters. Grace takes care of the rest.

Time, time, time. It's something only mortals worry about - and I'm constantly trying to relearn, re-figure-out, re-epiphany the moments of understanding of God's perspective on the matter for myself. Because timelessness doesn't stick in the mortal brain very well at all.

Clear as mud. Carry on with your day.

Morning Musings with Mum

I have loved living with my mom for the last month or so. We're in between houses, at the moment, as we wait on the builder to finish our new home, so here we are living with my madre. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my husband, but I've thoroughly enjoyed my regular conversations with my mom. 

This morning, while the boys were munching on their favorite dried cereal, my mom and I stood in the kitchen and talked. She'd been studying King Benjamin, and Hugh Nibley, naturally. She summed up this quote, to me, that she'd read this morning. (I'll just cheat and write the quote out.) 

From Hugh Nibley's Commentary on the Book of Mormon Volume 1:

"The Book of Mormon tells us in Ether, the brother of Jared said, God talked to me in all humility, as one man to another. To be humble is not to bow down to somebody who is above you, not to lick the boss's boots, not to be subservient to higher rank, but to be equal with all. That's to be humble. Our thing is usually to be arrogant to those below you and subservient to those above you. That's the way you get success in this world, but that's not to be humble at all. Remember, the Lord himself is humble, as the brother of Jared said... To be humble is to speak to one as you would to another."

I loved this insight, from my mother (and Hugh Nibley). To me, this was incredibly empowering in a way I'd never thought of humility before. I have never had a hard time understanding humility as not putting yourself above another person. I'd never considered that humility also included not putting another person above yourself. 

Another scripture I had heard someone mention, recently, was in Alma 32. Alma is teaching the people who were cast out of the synagogue because of their poverty and coarseness. He tells them:

Alma 32:12:

"It is well that ye are cast out of your synagogues, that ye may be humble, and that ye may learn wisdom; for it is necessary that ye should learn wisdom; for it is because that ye are cast out... that ye are brought to a lowliness of heart; for ye are necessarily brought to be humble."

My friend had been mentioning the scripture as trying to find a bright side to "at home" church. With this key word "humility" on my mind, however, I started to see the scripture a little differently.

Because these people could not practice "church" - aka "Rameumpton," in this case - Alma felt that they would be able to learn humility and wisdom. The wisdom wasn't found at the Rameumpton. That place was full of pride and self-aggrandizing. Being removed from the church allowed these people to be HUMBLE - to see themselves as equal - no better or worse than anyone else, including the people kicking them out. Those Rameumpton snappy dressers were NOT better than them. 

It was empowering to me to see it in this light! Again, no surprises, I'm a nuanced Mormon, and have been vocal about my disagreements with culture, etc. Reading this scripture, reading Nibley's thoughts and talking to my mother, reminded me that we, mortals, are incredibly capable. The kingdom of God is within us. We are all capable of finding wisdom on our own. Ideally, should we gather together and help each other out? You betcha. But if we can't, we ARE CAPABLE. 

So that was a refreshing thought to start the day out with!

My mom also mentioned another insight she'd gleaned, this morning. So change of topic!

My mom mentioned a thought she'd had on the Three Degrees of Glory, within our faith. Doctrine and Covenants 76 speaks of the Three Degrees of Glory. Verses 81-83 describe that those who go to the Telestial Kingdom (or lowest) are those who DON'T deny the Holy Ghost, but do NOT receive the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Verse 77 describes that those in the Terrestrial Kingdom "receive the presence of the Son, but not the fulness of the Father." The Celestial Kingdom would be those who accept the fulness of God, then.

My mom was pondering on this, and interpreted it personally.

The Telestial Kingdom is for those who listen to the Spirit - people who want to "be good" but aren't interested in God. They are good, but not interested in being inspired by any particular group or religious figure.

The Terrestrial Kingdom would be for those who accept Christ. They are those who are full of gratitude for Christ. Gratitude for His atonement. Gratitude for the lessons taught. 

The Celestial Kingdom takes it a step further and DOES SOMETHING about it. They recognize that the goal isn't about Christ, the means, but about God. It's the people who want not only to be forgiven, but to be creators, possessors of wisdom, and people of actionable good. 

I loved this, also. 

My mother and I talked about our relationships with Divinity. My mother talked about how she has never had a "relationship" with Jesus - something I feel similarly on. Christ constantly encouraged people to worship God - not Himself. "The glory be Thine" was, in fact, His plan. It was Satan who wanted to be the Savior who received all the glory. Christ did not want it. Christ wanted us to see and focus on God, and God's mercy, love, and glory. 

When we pray, we pray to God. It is God who answers our prayers. It is good to have an understanding of Christ's atonement. It is good, indeed, to be grateful for it! It is good to love Christ for performing such an act for us! But this doesn't necessarily mean you have a relationship with Him. It is an experience of understanding and gratitude. Surely we will remember the love our divine elder brother has for us, when we meet Him, because we do love Him, and He us, but we do not presently have a relationship with Him - one of communication and reciprocity. That is with God. 

God is my goal. That is who I want to be with most. That is who I want to be like. (Christ too, obviously, but we must recognize where the good comes from, and it comes from one step higher.) 

I love living with my mom. We may never leave.