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...