What's Keeping Me Awake

The power has gone out in Eagle Mountain no fewer than five times in the last twenty-four hours. They scheduled a power outage from 11pm to 2am tonight to finish up whatever job they were doing, to fix the power for good. But this resulted in the furnace making a loud "clunk" and all the technology beeping back to life at 2am, waking up the toddler, making the toddler run to his door and demand to go downstairs, then scream crying when I brought him back to his room.

He fell back asleep relatively quickly. I, however, didn't. I couldn't stop thinking. Finally, around 3:45, I accepted to myself that I was getting two and a half hours of sleep and that that was fine. I was fortunate that I could nap in the afternoon, during "quiet time," and that I should just be sure not to operate heavy equipment once the sun rose, which, guess what, quarantine, so that's not that hard anyway.

I have been no stranger to insomnia in the past. Pregnancy insomnia hit me pretty hard both times around, and back in those days I had to go to work in the morning. So I'm feeling pretty fortunate that it's 4am, I'm awake, and that's okay.

Tonight I'm just thinking. I had a hard time yesterday. As with most of my problems, nowadays, my "hard time" came from social media. If I'd been content to sit in my home and listen to my children whine all day about demanding more screen time consisting of their diet of Chuggington and Daniel Tiger, I would have been fine. If I'd been content to watch them hit each other with Hot Wheels track and pretend to sting each other like bees, with tracks held to their backsides all day, sure, I would have been fine. If only I'd been content humming "Into the Unknown" from Frozen II, which was hardcore stuck in my head all day, I might have been happy. But silly me decided that I needed adult interaction during this quarantine and I got on Facebook, desperate to see what was going on in the world outside of my toddler quarantine.

Earthquakes, Pandemics, Tornadoes, Power Outages. The usual, for 2020. I kept scrolling. Fabulous memes. I collected, and continued scrolling. Which combination of Disney princesses are you when you're happy versus angry? Mulan and Ariel, apparently. Freaking waste of my life. Ariel? Bull. Continued scrolling.

And then I found this gem, which is keeping me awake.

"Ah," I said to myself. "They wanna rehash this $100 Billion concern again, I see. Just when I thought I was coping with the impending General Conference so well, I am again confronted with black and white thinking. You're in or you're out. Should I comment about needless stereotyping against people with rational concerns about the way the Church handles its financials, which, while handled fairly, could be subject to moral discussion? Well, let's see what other comments she's getting. Maybe someone will have said something so I don't have to."

Freaking #DEZNAT with their excessive patience, love, and faith!!!

I kept scrolling, I didn't want to deal with it. You can't win, with those people.

You could try and call them out on pride, creating a hostile environment for other children of God in the Church - good people who are trying to belong, but now can't, because you're standing there calling them a fool for disagreeing with you on something they are ALLOWED to disagree with you on. You could remind them that the Church makes $19 MILLION a day in interest, and that $100,000 is like dropping your pocket change in the Salvation Army tin in comparison. Is it nice? Sure. Was it the Widow's Mite? Not even a sneeze in a hurricane kind of close.

I could have even considered posting a GIF, because sometimes that's easier. I would have posted this one:

But then they would have insisted they were not hating. They said they had love and faith, and if I didn't have enough faith to blindly follow everything without questioning and braving my own conclusions, that was MY problem with God, and may I have a happy time in Hell with the other Liberal Lefties LOL.

Nope, I kept scrolling. (Correction, I went back to take screenshots to share with my husband, because of how much it was eating at my soul that the members of the Church inadvertently do everything possible to make sure I never feel like I can belong.) (In going back I also noticed someone had made a comment similar to what I would have commented, and thanked them for making room for me to belong. So yeah, I did eventually interact with the post. But not with DezNat. Like I said. Can't talk with people who have nothing to learn.)

Did I mention I had "Into the Unknown" stuck in my head all day?

I'm far from the first nuanced Mormon to resonate with that song. Because that's what that song is about to me. The lyrics describe, perfectly, what it's like to disagree with the Institution's authority and turn your heart to listening for God's guidance instead. Because God is better than mortal men, and God often has something deeper for you, if you're willing to listen.

But it's also really hard to find the courage to listen. I described it once: "It [took] reaching my breaking point with church leadership for me to look past that religious authority and search even deeper for truth." Coming from a multi-generational Mormon family, living in Utah, it doesn't take a lot of courage to be a Mormon. It takes tremendous courage to question the status quo, and figure out what YOU really believe. My "faith crisis" and questioning led me to stay, but with new stipulations. I do not hold the Church as the ultimate authority. God is. I don't believe that I have to accept everything that is spoken, if God is telling me something else.

There were a thousand reasons I should have gone about my day and ignored the whispers in my heart that prompted me to question, that landed me where I am now. It would have been so much easier to believe the traditional teachings - everyone I ever loved was within the walls of traditional Mormondom. And like a Band-aid, it would have been so much easier to leave the Church outright, rather than sitting "on the edge of inside." But instead I'm here, nuanced, and afraid of what I'm risking for following God.

I'm very much in the unknown.

It's the unknown that's been keeping me awake.

I'm still feeling sick about not having a home in the Church because I'm a "Liberal Leftie LOL" who thinks the Church missed the mark on what Christ would have them do with their excess money. And frankly, I'm feeling sick to my stomach about General Conference.

There's freaking Coronavirus, people. I'm in toddler quarantine Hell. I really want peace and hope, like everyone else does right now! I could really use a spiritual boost this weekend, but I'm terrified that instead, all I'm going to get is a First Vision Infomercial.

In a previous post I mentioned my concerns and fears about General Conference and their divisive decision to roll out with the First Vision theme. I believe Joseph Smith's first "First Vision" account, and I'm going to have his third "First Vision" account shoved down my throat this weekend with all the weight of "divine authority" insinuated. And if I dare disagree with a conference premise or conclusion, once again, I'm going to be cast as not having enough "patience, love, and faith," despite how God-directed my nuance truly has been.

I'm so tired. Physically, because I'm not supposed to be awake for another two hours, now, but emotionally moreso. My only beg, my only plea, is that we be more aware of each other, this General Conference time. Please know that God hasn't cast anybody out, so you shouldn't either. Leave room for people like me, who believe they are doing the right thing. If you don't leave room for people to do what they feel is right, they will do it somewhere without you, and it will be your loss.

End of Days

The last couple of weeks has left me thinking about how Mormons feel about the end of the world. Do I believe this is it? That this is the end? No, I do not. Not even close. Do I recognize that bad things are happening? You betcha. Absolutely. But I don't think this is the end.

It all started with toilet paper. You're laughing, I'm sure, but it did. I went to Costco with a friend of mine one Thursday, like we often do when our children are in preschool together, and the place was packed. People were throwing toilet paper and bottled water into their carts like it was going out of style. My friend and I laughed quietly to ourselves. Silly people hoarding stuff. The next week, when my friend had a couple rolls of toilet paper left, in her house, and she genuinely needed more toilet paper, we went back to Costco. They were sold out. We were calling stores, hunting down toilet paper. We finally found some at Macey's. We grabbed one of the last boxes they had, and split it between the two of us.

Because Coronavirus was near. There was panic. Over the next couple days, grocery stores started getting picked clean. We couldn't find bread. We couldn't find flour. My husband went grocery shopping, and came home with an eclectic mix of lunchables, individually packaged, microwave-ready stroganoff bowls, and individual applesauce cups. My mom went ahead and home-baked four loaves of bread. We gave a couple away to neighbors who couldn't find bread either.

Because there were good people giving away stuff too. The local restaurant added extra flour and yeast to their regular order, and sold them at discount to neighbors. A Facebook page was created called "Eagle Mountain Helpers," where people posted updated lists of what grocery stores had in stock, and were able to ask for things they needed, and give what they had in surplus. (It's how I got my hands on some hand sanitizer finally! I asked, and over 6 people volunteered extra hand sanitizer.)

The grocery stores are only now starting to look a little more normal, as people finally feel that they have hoarded enough, for the end of days. But, as we knew they would, from other countries who went through the virus before us, the grocery stores have remained open, and people can still get what they need, just like they always have been able to. This is not, in fact, the end of times.

What inspires people to this sort of hoarding? This sort of panicked buying of essentials? Utah has it the worst.

On March 8th, we spent 261% what we'd spent on this same day last year. We statistically are the worst, at panic purchasing, in the US. I have my theories on why, and because this is my blog and you're reading it, you're about to hear my theories.

Years ago The Church just couldn't stop talking about food storage. (I actually haven't heard it for a couple years. Interested to hear what they say next month for General Conference.) Food storage, food storage, food storage. One year supply, they recommended. I grew up with my mom being the ward, maybe stake, I can't remember, canning and food storage specialist. We had a massive pantry downstairs, full of number ten cans of rice, wheat, you name it. We cooked with it, we used it. If there was an apocalypse, my mother wouldn't have batted an eye, and I would have been sprouting sprouts in one of her, apparently, two sprouters. (We also composted and slaved away in a large garden every weekend. We were cool.)

I think this is why we see panic purchasing. Utah Mormons remember these days of commanded food storage. There were veiled threats that you'd die if you didn't have it. Mormons bought and stored cigarettes in their food storage as well, to use for bartering for goods, come the end of times. They were prepared, or, at least, they knew the goal was to be. We haven't forgotten. So when the pandemic hit, everyone remembered.

FOOD STORAGE!!!! screamed the lizard-brain, terrified of its own demise. So it went out and bought toilet paper and bottled water. (Because, apparently, your own kitchen tap won't work tomorrow, and surely you have nothing else you could possibly wipe your butt with, if push comes to shove.) The problem with this, was after the first week, people's brains started to kick in, and they realized that TP and water wouldn't actually be enough to sustain life, so they hit the shelves again, this time hoarding medications, canned goods, flour, milk, etc. (Why hoard milk? It goes off! Who the heck knows.)

There are people in this world who live paycheck to paycheck, and these people were royally hosed, because of all the panic purchasing. People couldn't buy FOOD. I do my grocery shopping once a week, and I couldn't buy food to make MEALS. I was fortunate that we still had plenty, and ate just fine, but if I felt I was in dire straights, in the upper-middle class, I can't imagine what dire straights lower income families were actually in.

Medications. When you need them, you absolutely need them. The stores near me were cleaned out of children's medications, resulting in panicked mothers begging for children's Tylenol on the Eagle Mountain Helpers page. The Relief Society put out a plea for a mother who needed infant cough medication, and couldn't find any. I read in the news that Lupus patients are having a hard time getting their medications, etc.

Because people are being greedy. People are allowing their fear to drive their own worries into acting absolutely manic and selfish, leaving people, who otherwise would have been fine, without. There has never been a problem with toilet paper shortages. The stores have never just "run out." If one store runs out, you go to the next one, and they have it. But when fearful people run around and buy ALL OF IT, OH MY HECK, FOOD STORAGE!!!!!! then we run out. People begin to suffer, because of the fear of a few.

In my first year of college I had a roommate who wanted us to have a year supply of food storage. No joke. Four roommates, together for three months, and she wanted us to have a year supply of food storage in our apartment. (She also kept a loaded rifle in the back of her truck. She was very Mormon.) We convinced her that no, the invitation to have a year supply of food storage did not apply to college students. (Frankly, I moved out the next semester. She was a little too much for me, even back then.)

I spoke with my mom, the food storage expert, about this. When the apocalypse comes, and everyone is supposed to be surviving on their year supply of food storage, what about the college students? What about the renters? What about the people who live in tiny homes, and genuinely cannot have a year supply of food? What about the newlyweds? What about them?

She smiled, and told me that her opinion had always been that we weren't supposed to use our food storage just for ourselves. She encouraged other people to have food storage so the whole neighborhood wouldn't be dependent on just her. But we were always meant to use our surplus to share, and to help others.

Lightbulb, Utah. You failed the test. You were so busy hoarding supplies for yourself, that you literally starved out your neighbor. You forgot what this whole "Christian" thing is really about - loving other people more than yourself. You let fear drive you to be unthinkably thoughtless and cruel. You left your neighbor to feel helpless, hopeless, and alone.

I have been grateful to see good people sharing, in this situation. But I've been heartbroken, too. I know for a fact that I am not the only person who has left a grocery store and then cried, for feeling so helpless when all the world is going crazy. I cried, too, when I saw the spike in gun sales this month - it reminded me of all those Idaho Mormons swearin' on their lives that they'd protect their food storage come Armageddon, come Hell or high water! They would shoot you, before offering your starving family a potato. I heard that from people - this attitude of "killin' people to protect what's RIGHTFULLY mine!"

That is not what Christ wants. That was never the intention behind "Prepardness," a better word I hear the Church using, these days, to describe the message they were trying to instill with the old "food storage" vocabulary.

The Bible tells us to do good. The Bible describes God as being one who "harvests where He did not sow." When Christ's disciples worried about having enough to eat, drink, and wear, Christ responded by telling them that God was aware of them. Their first priority was to seek the kingdom and His righteousness, and all those things would be added unto them. The priority is a Christlike life, first, however.

Proverbs 11:4 teaches - "Riches profit not in the day of wrath: but righteousness delivereth from death."

1 Timothy 6:17-19 teaches us that the "riches" we are to seek, that will be our foundation against the time to come, is good works. "That they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate."

Proverbs 21:26 - "The righteous giveth and spareth not."

Proverbs 3:27 - "Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act."

Things are going to get worse, with this virus, before they get better. That's a fact. All of us will feel it closely. People will continue to die. That social distancing will turn into house arrest. You're going to hate it. Absolutely. But before you start thinking about what you can do to help yourself in this situation, look outward. Think about the people around you. See if there is something God needs you to do to help someone else, "when it is in your power to act."

My husband's work had layoffs, directly related to coronavirus. He missed the cut. He still has a wonderful job, is working from home, and our lives are going on much as normal. We are beyond fortunate in this. As a family we've discussed what God would like us to do. I need a chipped tooth fixed. We have a couple medical bills coming in. We're buying a new house. We definitely can come up with a bunch of excuses for why we can't or shouldn't help people. Surely God is blessing us so we can be absolutely comfortable, right?

I don't think so. We will not be luxuriously comfortable if it is within our power to lighten another's heavy load. That's true consecration - a law I promised to live. My hope is that as the next few months roll by, with all their twists, turns, surprises, and heartbreaks, we look outside of ourselves, and do what we can do to help others, especially when we have been blessed ourselves.

And freaking stop buying all the toilet paper and masks.

The Authority of Peace

I'm a nuanced, or non-traditional Mormon. No secrets there. (No secrets, because I religiously blog post my spiritual impressions and beliefs, so that I don't feel so guilty about never journaling. Ooops.)

Last Sunday was a regular Sunday for me. Sacrament Meeting consisted of entertaining two toddlers. I believe the theme, last week, was train stickers, if I'm recalling correctly. Train stickers, returning crayons to their rightful owners, going potty a couple times, you know the drill. Toddlers - the reason young mothers are spiritually starved for a good quiet, sit down, learn something moment to themselves.

After dropping children off in nursery and Sunbeams - they both went happily! - my husband and I parted ways for our respective classes.

And I struggled. To the outside observer, I probably looked like I deserved to struggle. I was on my phone - watercolor painting, Pokemon Go, surfing Facebook? All of the above? I don't remember. I probably looked, and you could accuse, like I wasn't getting anything out of the lesson, because I wasn't bringing anything either. But for me, it wasn't that simple.

I'd just sat through a Ward Conference where the only female on the stand was the woman who gave the closing prayer. A baby was blessed, and her mother wasn't mentioned. I was covered in train sticker remnants, and I just wasn't feeling it. I was tired, I desperately wanted some life, laughter, or even rejoicing in the room, and I already knew it wasn't going to happen. Yes, again, you can accuse that I didn't bring that to the table, so why would I expect to get it in return, but I didn't have it in me. My qualms with equality in the church were weighing heavily on my mind from the previous week, and they were cemented in during Sacrament Meeting, and I felt no bold, strong women standing and asserting their absolute right to be there and "play with the big boys," or even, merely, to be happy.

So I sat on my phone.

The lesson was on becoming more holy. The tears were flowing. The confessions of our own fallen, sinful natures were borne, again and again, as sisters put pencils to paper to write out their lists on what personal holiness looked like, and then verbally drew conclusions on how they didn't match up.

God loves me, so he sent me my son, Julian. He needed to go potty again. I shrugged my apologetic, "Oh, toddlers," gathered up all of my belongings and left. After taking Julian to the bathroom and returning him to Sunbeams, I began my search for a comfortable couch in the lobby. The first one was taken. I walked around the church to the other lobby, and found that couch unoccupied.

I listened in on the Sacrament Meeting which was being broadcasted through the speakers. Someone was giving a traditional "on my mission" story. I sat, water-coloring this time, for about five minutes, enjoying the quiet. (I'm a mom. That quiet is not to be underestimated, sacred space.)

The bishop passed through the lobby, not seeing me, and poked his head into a classroom to talk to one of the primary teachers in there. Now, I know this probably says loads about me, but I didn't want the bishop catching me looking only too happy to be sluffing class there, on the comfy couch. I didn't want that conversation, where I knew I would probably say something inappropriate, like, "Seen more life at a funeral!" when he asked how Relief Society was.

So I quickly stood up and darted out of the lobby, making my way towards nursery. Five minutes until the top of the hour, and church would be done. I figured I could bum out in nursery for the last five minutes without making a scene. (I didn't make a scene. Dexter was happy to have his mom with him, and a little girl there was very happy to have another adult to fawn over her coloring.)

It's been eating me up all week, that Sunday has.

I've been beating myself up about what I could have done differently. Should I have tried harder to engage in Relief Society? Could anything I could have said even have helped?

I listened to a podcast, The Third Hour, my cousin is a part of, this week, and he'd said something in the podcast that stuck out to me. I'm too lazy to look up the direct quote, but he'd said something along the lines of: There are two lessons we can take from the Fall. (Adam and Eve.) The first, is that we are fallen and sinful. The second, is that we are capable.

That Relief Society lesson on Sunday was a little too "fallen and sinful" takeaway message, and not enough "capable" message. I could have said something like that. I could have tried to turn the direction of the lesson from more tears and talk of how we can be more holy, how we can do better, and all the dwelling on weaknesses into something a little more positive and affirming. I could have commented that reminder that we are extremely capable, and God knew better than we do that we wouldn't be perfect in this life, and that that, in fact, was never the goal. That, in fact, the goal is that "they might have joy."

Could I have been that strong woman with the happier, more positive comment in the classroom that I was looking for? Not really, no. I'm a nuanced Mormon, so everything I say has to be taken with a grain of salt. I had the audacity to be wearing pants as well, which would have turned off a large percentage of the room from listening to anything I had to say in the first place anyway.

But then I started thinking. What if I hadn't run away from the Bishop in the lobby. What if I had been willing to engage in a conversation in which I reported my dislike for Relief Society and the general attitude of helpless, never-good-enough weeping that goes on in there, and how soul crushing that is for this little feminist, wishing she had a place to worship her God in Happy Heaven.

If the Bishop had been in Relief Society, if the Bishop had stated my comment, would they have listened? Would they have taken it seriously? Would they have been a little more optimistic? Naturally, this resulted in my grumping about the fact that women's voices aren't taken as seriously as men's voices, but then I realized... perhaps it's not men versus women. Perhaps it's just the fact that I don't have a calling worth listening to, like the Bishop does.

Because authority. Mormons love it. We love to listen to people in authority. There are plenty of prophets' quotes encouraging us to find truth wherever it is to be found, but I know from personal experience that teaching the principles of Zoroastrianism will never get you quite as far as a prophet quote saying the same thing would in a Mormon congregation. Mormons hunger for men in suits and ties to teach them what to think, say, and do.

That's a broad stereotype. I'm aware. But it also makes sense. The Church teaches the value placed on authority - priesthood authorities passed down in unbroken chains linked back up with Christ Himself, through the Restoration. Other apostles making statements such as, "When the prophet speaks, the debate is over." Or "It is my province to teach to the Church what the doctrine is. It is your province to echo what I say or to remain silent.”

I, personally, disagree with these statements, but the cultural attitudes are still ingrained there for many. Most have not deliberately thought about it, to be honest. They reside in a culture that works well for them. The authority teaches something that makes sense and is comfortable for them, and so they continue their appeals to authority, and they are happy, not having to do the uncomfortable emotional work of digging into what they actually believe, and acting on it, even if it rubs some the wrong way.

Surely, however, I didn't just describe you. No, never. Right?

That's what they all say.

Stanley Milgram conducted an experiment in 1961, studying obedience to authority. With the Holocaust on his mind, he wanted to know if it could reasonably be said that the Nazis of Germany were simply following orders. Could people genuinely harm and kill others, simply because they were following the orders of authority? Or rather, should they all be deemed to be accomplices?

If you're not familiar with the experiment, it's quite intense. Summarized: 

"At the beginning of the experiment, they were introduced to another participant, who was a confederate of the experimenter (Milgram). 

They drew straws to determine their roles – learner or teacher – although this was fixed and the confederate was always the learner. There was also an “experimenter” dressed in a gray lab coat, played by an actor (not Milgram).

Two rooms in the Yale Interaction Laboratory were used - one for the learner (with an electric chair) and another for the teacher and experimenter with an electric shock generator.

The “learner” (Mr. Wallace) was strapped to a chair with electrodes. After he has learned a list of word pairs given him to learn, the "teacher" tests him by naming a word and asking the learner to recall its partner/pair from a list of four possible choices.

The teacher is told to administer an electric shock every time the learner makes a mistake, increasing the level of shock each time. There were 30 switches on the shock generator marked from 15 volts (slight shock) to 450 (danger – severe shock).

The learner gave mainly wrong answers (on purpose), and for each of these, the teacher gave him an electric shock. When the teacher refused to administer a shock, the experimenter was to give a series of orders/prods to ensure they continued.

There were four prods and if one was not obeyed, then the experimenter (Mr. Williams) read out the next prod, and so on.

Prod 1: Please continue.

Prod 2: The experiment requires you to continue.

Prod 3: It is absolutely essential that you continue.

Prod 4: You have no other choice but to continue."

So what happened?

It was predicted that no more than 3 out of every 100 participants would deliver the maximum shock. 

In reality, 65% of participants in Milgram's study delivered the maximum shock. 

Milgrim summed up the findings in a wonderful way:

'The legal and philosophic aspects of obedience are of enormous import, but they say very little about how most people behave in concrete situations. 

I set up a simple experiment at Yale University to test how much pain an ordinary citizen would inflict on another person simply because he was ordered to by an experimental scientist.

Stark authority was pitted against the subjects’ [participants’] strongest moral imperatives against hurting others, and, with the subjects’ [participants’] ears ringing with the screams of the victims, authority won more often than not.

The extreme willingness of adults to go to almost any lengths on the command of an authority constitutes the chief finding of the study and the fact most urgently demanding explanation.'

That is terrifying, and not something I would say happens in Relief Society on a regular basis. That is not at all what I am trying to get at. 

What I want to get at is peace. What kind of authority figure does it take for someone to allow themselves to be at peace? 

I inserted several pictures of one of the participants of Milgram's study. He was someone who was obviously VERY uncomfortable with what he was being asked to do. But he did it anyway. The videos made of this study are painful to watch. I'd highly recommend them! Men squirming in their seats. Turning around, begging the authority to listen to the screams of the man in the next room. Then, when simply told, "The experiment requires you to continue." they did. Because the man sitting at the table behind them was wearing a white lab coat, and looked like he knew what he was talking about.

What do we know about God? We know that God loves us, and wants us to return. We know that God loves everyone else, too. We know that God knows us better than we know ourselves. We know that God created a plan, a plan that would help us progress through mortality, using our imperfections to learn how to better ourselves and make ourselves into holier people. But mostly, we should trust on God's love.

I would postulate, for our purposes, that the man in the chair being shocked, and the man in the chair doing the shocking, could be the exact same person.

What kind of authority does it take for us to allow ourselves to be at peace? 

"Be still and know that I am God." is a powerful Bible verse. It's the Bible verse that encouraged my mother to finally get baptized. But "be still" doesn't mean "be quiet." It means "let go." Let go of your pain, let go of your self-flagellation, let go of your fretting about your imperfections, and know that God is God, and God knows what to do with you. Every little thing you screw up, God's got a plan for it, and it's okay to let go, have a little faith, and find peace.

Too often, in our church, it's easier to consult the suits and ties, and see them as our authorities. We listen to them, because it's easier than listening to a still small voice. I'm not saying our church leaders are bad. Not at all. But God is far more timely, and knows what you need to know in that moment, whereas the assigned talk for RS that week doesn't know what you need like you and God do. 

Too often I see women beating themselves up over their imperfections, because that's what they think the authorities want them to do - constant vigilance and perfectionism - because some scriptures and some talks say that's what you're supposed to do. But those scriptures and those talks directly contradict the talks that tell us to find joy, to be still, to have faith and hope. How are we to know what is truth?

They both are. They're both true. You're supposed to try harder to be a kind person, and ALSO, you're supposed to calm down and recognize your own nothingness, and isn't that grand?! Don't just listen to the authority that tells you to have a hard time. You have to listen to the authority that also tells you to rejoice and have peace.

I'll never be an authority. First off, I'm a woman. Second off, I'm a sinner. Third off, I'll never have plastic surgery. (Don't tell the general church ladies I said that!!) Fourth off, I make judgmental comments like that to make sure I'll never get in. But I'll never be in a position of authority in this Church, which is fine with me. I don't want that kind of responsibility. 

But even though I'm not an authority figure, I hope someone is willing to listen to me say, anyway, that the authority figure who knows you best, who you should always listen to first, is God. 

And that's why I skipped Relief Society on Sunday. Sorry Bishop.

The Rich Young Ruler

I've found myself pondering on the story from the Bible, of the Rich Young Ruler. It's possible that my son and I had a conversation in which the body language looked very much like the famous artwork depicting the Bible story. ("Do you see that your brother is crying? Do you think you should ask him if he's okay?")

At any rate, it got me thinking about it.

The story of the Rich Young Ruler is found in three of the four gospels, as well as the apocryphal text "Gospel of Hebrews." It was apparently an important enough incident to reference multiple times. Each of the traditional three tellings are also extremely similar - a few changes in words, a few details added here and there, but overall, the message is the same.

The rich young ruler approaches Christ, and asks what he must do to inherit eternal life. Christ reviews the commandments with him. This rich young ruler states that he has done those things. He has kept the commandments. The Gospel of Mark, at this point, adds a detail the others do not. Verse 21 reads, "Jesus, looking at him, loved him..."

Here we have a young man who has kept the commandments. Rather than a "rich young man," could we not call him a "righteous" young man? (We obviously don't, cause the Bible's full of those, and it would be hard to know what righteous man people were talking about.) But for the sake of my telling, I'm going to call him the righteous young man, because it makes him real. It helps us see why Jesus loved him.

Of all the people to seek out to ask a question of the soul to, this young man finds Christ. Mark additionally adds the detail that the young man "ran up and knelt before Him." This young man knows who has the words of eternal life. He is going to the correct source to find knowledge and an answer to the question that matters the absolute most. "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" This is a RIGHTEOUS, discerning man, who genuinely cares about doing what is right.

It's easy to love him. Jesus loved him. Something in this righteous young man's eyes when he reported that he had kept all the commandments since his youth, and still wanted to know what more he could do, made him lovable. Perhaps it was his sincerity.

Christ's answer to this young man was not what he expected, however. "You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me."

The young man goes away grieving, and Christ's disciples are a little freaked out. "Greatly astounded," would be the translation the Bible likes, but my interpretation is "freaked out." This righteous young man who has kept the commandments all of his life walks away, obviously bummed. Something about the way he walked away likely made it clear that he had no intention of following Christ's suggestion. Did he let out an almighty "Pffff!" and roll his eyes? Or was it an "Ugh..." with a casual shoulder shrug and slinking away embarrassed that he'd even asked? Something about his walking away made the disciples who watched become "astounded."

Christ speaks, telling His disciples that it is "easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God." Perhaps he mutters this, still watching this righteous young man trudging away, kicking the dirt up at his feet.

The astounded disciples ask Christ, "Then who can be saved?" If a righteous young man who has kept the commandments his entire life is not on the "saved" boat, how does a former tax collector for the Romans stand a chance, they wondered. Is ANYONE going to be saved, if not this righteous kid?

Verse 26 reads, "But Jesus looked at them and said, "For mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible."

The disciples, ever worried about their own standing in heaven, begin to worry about their own treasures and repayment for their worldly sacrifices in the eternities, but you can pretty much end the story here. The rest of Christ's words are for the disciples. This is the end of the story for the Righteous Young Man, however.

Often, when we talk about this story, we like to focus on the camel bit - the riches bit. It is difficult for rich people to make it to Heaven, we tell each other. Perhaps to fit the camel through the needle, you discuss the need to unburden the camel of its load, so it can kneel and fit through the needle - which is, in fact, a door. You talk about this at length - the symbolism of unloading money off your back so you can be humble enough to get to heaven, despite being rich.

But I think we focus on this one righteous young man's weakness so much that we fail to recognize that the one thing this young man lacked might not be the thing that we lack. We might, in fact, lack something else. Focusing on the difficulties of riches, we have missed a very important message.

Christ's ultimate suggestion, for this young man, was to "come, follow me." Getting rid of his riches was just the one thing that would have prevented him from following Christ. This man was righteous. Money (and likely position) was the only thing stopping him from fully committing his life to following Christ. But his trials do not represent all of our trials?

I've been asking myself what it is that stops me from committing my life, wholly, to following Christ, and being a true disciple of Him. I don't think I'm doing half bad, to be honest. I don't have major sins, and like the righteous young man, I think, with a little pondering, I could answer that I have kept the commandments. (I might say, "And repented when I haven't," but God's already forgiven those.) For a lot of us, we're really not doing half bad, if you look at it sincerely.

I mentioned that this account is also given in the apocryphal Gospel of Hebrews. It's pretty much the same, with some more specific chastisement about the man not using his riches to help those dying of hunger. The question that the righteous young man asks of the Savior is different, however, and I love it. He doesn't ask what he must do to have eternal life. In the Gospel of Hebrews he asks, "What good thing must I do really to live?"

What stops ME from living? What stops ME from experiencing the freedom, peace, and power that comes from truly living in Christ? What lack I yet?

Loving to Death

With the April General Conference fast approaching, the Mormons are in a fervor. The prophet announced in October that this would be a special General Conference, commemorating the 200th anniversary of Joseph Smith Jr's First Vision. He said this upcoming conference would be "different from any previous conference." It won't even be at the Conference Center. In a recent email to leaders, the prophet explained, "This is a hinge point in the history of the Church, and your part is vital."

What is up with all of the climactic expressions? The speculations are killing some of us. And not in a good way.

I'm super grumpy about all of it. I'm grumpy about all the hype. There's nothing wrong with being excited about General Conference. Truly, being excited to learn more about Jesus is a great thing. But I don't believe this hype is exclusively about Jesus. This hype doesn't feel like it's about God.

This hype feels like it's about Joseph Smith Jr and his personal First Vision experience. This hype is Church-focused - a hype exclusively to our "religion." It's excitement, bearing testimony about a man and his journey. It's hype about history, instead of the present. I still hold out hope that they might be able to redeem this - that they might be able to turn this around and focus on personal revelation, but with the setting, timing, and previous statements, there's gonna be a lot of hype about Joseph Smith Jr before we get to the more pertinent message of personal revelation, and personal communication with God, for ourselves.

Why does this offend? Why does this make me grumpy? Because I don't worship men.

Now, this isn't a feminist, gendered statement. It's a statement about mortality versus immortality, and I think that I'm in good company with my concern. The Church website, itself, has a section of scriptural references on the subject of "Trust Not in the Arm of Flesh."

"Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils."

"Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm"

"have no confidence in the flesh,"

"I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh"

"Cursed is he that putteth his trust in man,"

Et cetera. 

I love the Bible. I love scriptures. So you can see why I have a hard time with prophet worship. Because that's what this is. All the hype about the Sacred Grove, Joseph Smith Jr, even the Church's purchasing and offering tours of the original Smith farm as they do, that is what this is. It's prophet worship. Joseph was a man, like you or me. (Well, not me. I am, in fact, a lady.) 

Joseph Smith Jr was a human. He was a deeply flawed human being, and my recognition, understanding, and forgiveness of that very mortality is one of the key reasons I am able to remain an active member of this Church. Because if Joseph Smith Jr truly is someone we worship, while at the same time not worshiping ALL of God's children for their divine potentials, we have a serious problem. We have raised Joseph Smith, a man, to the level of being, somehow, divine. 

I know. He said he'd done more for mankind than anyone other than Jesus. He said a lot of things. He said a lot of "never to be humble" things. And frankly, he was wrong about a lot of them. It's history. Study it. It's a novel concept, I know. Joseph Smith Jr had his own personality, weaknesses, and not everything he said or did was perfect. (Don't let that destroy your faith now.)

I was recently listening to the First Vision podcast put out by the Church. (I appreciate the frankness that this podcast has shown, and their willingness to look at the different accounts of the vision.) One thing, in the 6th part of the podcast, stuck out to me. They were talking about how the Sacred Grove came to be a tourist attraction, frankly. They talked about how they nourished that grove. If limbs fell from the trees, they cleaned them up. They kept things tidy, manicured and cared for as well as any park. However, in the 1990's they had to hire a forester for advice on how to help the struggling vegetation. 

The forester's report was simple. "You are loving this place to death."

The podcast continued: "Let nature take its course in the grove. All those dead limbs, and all those leaves remain in place where they fall. They will, in turn, return nutrients to the ground, which will then support the trees in their growth."

The concept of loving the Sacred Grove to death whispered some truth to me. To me, it summed up perfectly what I see happening in the Church's worship of their history. The Church holds up its past like a holy relic - all of it divine, pure, and inspired. Their white-washed teachings and worship of their history and historical leaders will, inevitably, be proven wrong. (Because people, even prophets, will never be perfect.) 

That sort of worship becomes quite rigid, quite black and white. It is truth or it is false. You see this in the culture of the Church today. Disagreements will damn you with the harshest of judgments. History books are literally labeled as "anti-Mormon literature." So when these historical oppositions come, rigid things break. Your prophet made mistakes you didn't know about? NOTHING you thought can be true. Joseph Smith Jr was not actually 100% divine? Then everything he touched becomes tainted by his mortality, and all of it is false. 

This is often why people leave the Church. Seriously. This is it. People discover some true aspect of history about a prophet or an event. It's usually something that was never talked about, which may have even been labeled as "anti-Mormon." When they discover these ugly, mortal parts of our history, it shatters their perfect illusions of every aspect of the Restoration, ESPECIALLY when the Church or its leaders turns around and pretends that they'd been teaching these things all along, or continues to teach these mortal errors as divine or inspired, the imperfect implications about eternity and God be damned. 

Time and time again, in my faith journey, God has whispered to me that, "The truth is in the middle." Not everything about the Church and its narrative is good. But not everything is bad, either. God may be black and white, but mortals are not. Mortals are very very grey - both good and evil in one. Because our past, because our Church, because our lives are made up of mortals, all of it will be grey. The truth of our history is grey. It is in the middle. Joseph Smith Jr was not perfect, because he was human. But that doesn't mean he was evil, either. He was as human as you or me - as prone to sin and mistakes, and as prone to desires to do good as us. He was a generous disciple who helped people, and wanted to know God. He was also a little conceited and full of himself, God bless him. 

Because Joseph was a mortal and because we have different First Vision accounts, my feelings about the First Vision are mixed. I believe many of the things that Joseph Smith taught. I truly do believe that Joseph had some kind of experience with divinity in that grove. I do. But I also understand why that might be hard for others to believe, again, because Joseph was mortal and prone to exaggeration at times in his life. 

The current Church narrative about the First Vision comes from his third telling of his vision, which Joseph gave at a very frustrating, angry time in his history. (You can hear this in the podcast I mentioned earlier. You don't have to dig into the "anti-Mormon" history books. Church approved!) The intro to this third telling describes that Joseph was giving this particular account because he had something to prove. Not exactly my preferred telling. I prefer his first account of the vision, written very introspectively, in his own hand, in his own diary, with a lot of thought. It is the most personal account, and the account that I find myself believing in the most. You can argue all of them are true. Certainly you can. But you can also argue the opposite, that none of them were. This is, what we call, a grey area. Because Joseph was only human.

But does the fact that I believe in the first First Vision account, and you believe in the third First Vision account mean that we are irreparably different? Not at all. You will find that we both believe in Christ. We both believe in the Plan of Salvation. We both believe in the GOSPEL.

Which is why the Church's decision to focus on the First Vision, with its traditional, unchanging, always inspired and authoritative narrative this upcoming Conference is, by its very nature, so dividing. A friend put it very well:

"Is there room for those of us who aren't overwhelmed by this story? Is there any level of acceptance for even a bit of skepticism? Honestly, do you really want ME? Not just my butt in a pew on Sunday and a vacuum in my hand on Saturday, but do you want me, my skepticism, my hope, my doubts, and my convictions?"

Hype about the First Vision naturally excludes those who doubt, are skeptical, or have questions. I'm grumpy about the hype for this upcoming General Conference because I see it as creating further unnecessary rifts and divides between those who question - who have beliefs and unbeliefs - and those who happily embrace the Church's narrative.

Recognizing that Joseph Smith was human and may have made mistakes requires some religious humility. But humility makes you flexible. It might not look as pretty or authoritative as a black and white picture, or a manicured grove, but the humility required to be honest and vulnerable, the willingness to humbly see the uncertainties, with all their fallen branches and leaves, will help foster true, honest growth. In trees and people. 

Us Versus Them

The last few days have had turmoil. Brother set against brother, kind of turmoil. Bible versus flung back and forth, justifications and accusations, with rebuttals and more justifications. It's the news that broke as a whistleblower reported that the Church has $100 Billion dollars it's been sitting on, either legally or illegally un-taxed is still up for debate. It's been a grand old time for a fence sitter.

Why do I call myself a fence sitter? Because I am. On most issues, generally, I am. This happens because I believe that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is the church that God is choosing to work with at this time, in restoring doctrines and principles to bring souls back to God. I believe this because of spiritual direction. No facts or figures to prove it. Just feelings.

But I'm also well-versed in those facts and figures. I know the darkest pits of our Church's history and present. I've made it a point to know, again, because I have felt those spiritual promptings and direction TO know. Learn everything I can. There have been moments where I have fallen to my knees in tears and pleaded with the Lord to help me. "God, I feel like I know too much to ever be happy again! Am I wrong? What can I do to feel peace about this?" God quietly, lovingly directed me to stand back up, pick up that history book, and keep reading. Because what God wants me to do isn't slide happily through life. What God wants me to do is have knowledge. God wants me to know the good from the evil, with all the joy and pain and grey area that accompanies it.

So here I am, playing referee to both sides, trying to take a stand for truth where I see it.

It's messy. It's super, super messy. Made messier by the fact that I'm not supremely eloquent. Made messier by the fact that I am a red personality type who doesn't run from fights, and can often let my emotions and anger get the better of me. I speak when, as Christ taught, sometime's it's smarter to say nothing and doodle on the ground instead. I'm still trying to figure out that lesson. So I'm sorry. And forgive me. Chances are, you're a red personality type too, and we're both trying to figure out this "peacemaker" quality together, am I right? Friends?

I said I have anger. Why is that? Because I have a fundamental human need to feel like I belong, and it's not being met. At church on Sunday, someone made a comment along the lines of feeling so sorry for those who question the church, because they don't know anything, and they've lost everything. It's very lonely to have someone say that.

Why? Because the implication is that I am dumber then them. The implication is that I am pitiful, someone to be felt sorry for, and potentially, that I have no reason to live. Frankly, I didn't feel like I deserved any of that. I think I'm pretty smart, I think I have a pretty great life, and I think that God and I are both pretty proud of me for being a good listener to divine instruction, and for doing what I feel is right. Again, I can't prove that to you, it's just the spiritual directions and feelings I've been given.

I cannot prove to you that God loves me. I cannot prove to you what God tells me. I cannot pull out a whiteboard and sketch out a lifetime's worth of promptings and directions, and present a numerical value or percentage on just how "right" I am, or how "on the path" I am. My salvation is between me and God. But I know where I am, and I know how I feel. And right now, I'm in the right place and doing well. (Still working on that anger thing, and speaking without thinking, along with pride and a couple other sins like sugar, eye-rolling, and catastrophizing.)

I know I'm not the only person who has felt this way. I know I'm not the only person who has felt lonely this way because I talk to a lot of people in a lot of different places inside of the Church. Because, contrary to popular belief, the Church is not a "You're in or you're out," kind of place. That's black and white thinking, and is not actually how God works. God doesn't consider us as boxes to be checked, dates to be entered for a particular ordinance, etc. It's not so simple. (Unless you're dead, in which case, it is that simple in the temple. Though I'm certain it's not so black and white on the other side of the veil.)

There are so many places a person can be, in the Church. You can be a TBM - or Traditional Believing Mormon - someone who accepts everything: history, doctrine and all. A TBM strives to check all the worthiness boxes, and meet and follow all the outlined goals. You can be a Questioner, like myself - someone who looks at what is taught and has questions through all of it, judging the fallibility of doctrines, histories, and practices.  A Questioner strives to find and act on the truth, even if it disagrees with the authority. You can be a Doubter - someone who doesn't believe in the history of the Church, or any of it's authoritative claims.

Any given Sunday, all three types of Mormons are present in your meetings. (Yes, I said "Mormons." How very Questioner of me.) I would argue there are a TON of them present, mostly Questioners. Questioners are the ones who keep saying "Mormon." They're the ones that don't believe Polygamy was ever divinely inspired, for whatever reason. They're the ones who argue and debate that science has found nothing wrong with tea, or that a glass of wine has been proven to assist in heart health. They're THAT guy. Yep, sometimes they're annoying. But most of the time they look just like the rest of you, and the only difference is what's in their head.

Are there really Doubters at church, you might ask? Absolutely. They're the people that attend church with their families because "that's what you do," or because they or someone else in the family has a calling, and they don't want to be an embarrassment to themselves or others. They attend because they like the social aspects, basic morality, and have friends. They attend because they are afraid that if they leave, somehow their lives will suffer or fall apart, and their kids will turn into prostitutes and drug dealers. Because that's what happens when you leave the church. That's just a fact. Or perhaps they are afraid of what others will think, and how others will treat them.

Surely Mormons wouldn't treat them differently! Right? Surely Mormons wouldn't think ill of people who choose not to belong to the church anymore, right?

Wrong. Dead wrong.

I'm a Questioner and a fence-sitter by definition because of it, and I have friends in both worlds. Saying there is pain is an understatement. As one friend put it:

"I think leaving the church there’s a lot of grief and hurt involved. On the one hand you’re dealing with the grief of losing your faith, or feeling conned, or feeling like your life’s been a lie, and that comes with a lot of hurt. But then there’s the secondary aspect of how people are treating you, and misunderstanding you, and judging you. And it can be really really upsetting, and cause a lot of anger to come out. I think that’s why you see some of that from the ex-Mormon community. It’s because they’re hurting. I think both sides are hurting."

This friend told me that I was the only person that reached out to them after they left the church. I was the only one willing to sit down with them and listen to their story, their experience, and what they went through to get where they are today.

Perhaps because we're afraid. It's very easy to imagine that people who leave the church leave because they learned "the secret," that, if spoken, would wipe out all of Mormon civilization. Members would drop like flies into the void and abyss called "Faithless." We'd all die. The end. Chaotic, existential nihilism. We talked about it like that on my mission. "They got 'anti-ed.'"

It's not so simple. From the many people I know who have left the church, their experiences are all different. Some have felt God direct them in it, giving them promptings that they would learn more about God and be happier if they left. Others leave because they hear nothing - no revelation or answers from God at all about any of it.

Certainly there are those who leave because of history. That does happen. I know those people too. But there are plenty more who stay despite knowing the history, myself included. 

Why do we treat those who don't believe like us differently? Why do we judge them? How do we misunderstand them? What is the solution to this? How can we help everyone feel that they belong?

Friends that I have talked to have different opinions, and I have my own. My opinion as that Mormons tend to see themselves as "Us," and those who don't believe in the Church as "Them."

It's very easy to do. Sometimes broad stereotypes like this are very helpful. Team sports? Definitely helpful to have an "us" vs "them," mentality, if the objective of the game is to win. I fear, however, that the Church has created a culture that has this same perspective. For us, winning is having the "true doctrines," or the "authority." In our minds, these things are necessary to get back to heaven through that straight and narrow way, without falling into the darkness or Great and Spacious building.

I argue, that the rod in our imagery is The Word of God. It's the Scriptures. It's revelation. It's what leads us to Christ. That was the missionary objective - Invite others to come unto Christ. I have at least two friends who have left the church who speak fondly of memories of their mission - not because of bringing people into the church, but because of the experiences they had of bringing others closer to God, and Christ. They still feel the truth and goodness of that experience, as not believing in the authority of the Church has done nothing to their relationship and faith in God.

I know. I can feel it. You're raising that index finger and pointedly trying to find the right opening in which you can remind me that we DO believe in authority. Can I address this concern? That finger? Yes, that index finger and the attitude of raising it in correction before I've even finished what I'm saying is the concern, and is often the concern of those who Question or Doubt.

In college the book The Lost Art of Listening was a required text for us social workers. Listening is vital, if you're going to be in a helping profession. It's something most people don't know how to do. We listen until we hear the bit that speaks to us, or that we want to respond to, and we start trying to fix the problem, without hearing the end of it.

I went to the InstaCare a couple weeks ago. My left arm felt WRONG. It felt tingly, and I was scared, frankly, that I was having a heart attack at the ripe old age of thirty. Yep. Thirty. That was how it was going to end - two small toddlers, and I was gonna die before I even finished potty training. I had some reasonable doubts about this, however, as I'd had a similar feeling in the past, which had gone away eventually, but I still had just enough worry to get it checked out. I went in, and explained my symptoms. My left arm felt WEIRD, and my heart was pounding. (I was nervous.) The assistant was raising a nervous eyebrow as she took my vitals, until finally, she deduced, I likely wasn't having a heart attack. Turns out, I'd slept on a new pillow funny, and was having some compression in my neck on the nerves to my arm. Muscle relaxants and an anti-inflammatory for a week, and I was feeling much better.

I was very grateful that she had listened to me explain, "But I don't think it's a heart attack." She could have simply heard, "Left arm weird." and demand I head to the ER, because they don't take care of heart attacks at the InstaCare. Because she listened to me instead of brushing off my concern as "not her problem," I saved a bunch of money in bills, and got drugs that solved my problem right then and there.

We can do the same for those who differ in their beliefs with the Church. I have heard many, MANY stories by those who, in meetings with leadership or Bishops, express a doubt or a difference of opinion. Without caring to know ANYTHING else about the belief, the situation, the human behind the belief, or the reason, people with differences have been released from callings, threatened with discipline, or outright yelled at.

I posted that article the other day, about the Church and their $100 Billion in savings. In my heart and through my firm belief in Christ and the Bible, I disagree with the Church on this savings, and feel spiritually right in doing so. Frankly, it made me feel some righteous anger, and I posted it without thinking about how it would affect others. (Because I'm brash. Because I'm not perfect. But it's the same weakness ascribed to Joseph Smith Jr, so I'm in good company?)

I was told by many that I couldn't possibly be right for feeling as I do, because, they assured, the answer was found in "trusting the prophet," and "having faith." Another literally just recommended, in harsh terms, "For someone who feels so consistently negative about the church, have you thought about just leaving?"

Does this help me come closer to Christ? No. Does it make me feel like I am welcome at Church? Absolutely no. Because this is what misunderstanding and judging looks like, and it's what those who have different beliefs than Traditional Believing Mormons receive when they state their differences. They have not attempted to listen, or created an environment in which people would even begin to feel comfortable expressing themselves. As a friend with different beliefs in the Church noted:

“People will just tear you apart before they will question the Church, all in the name of love, of course. That's one of the reasons I don't like to say things. Cause people are vicious.

And they’re not going to understand. I don’t expect to be understood.

Mormons expect to be persecuted. They expect people to be constantly searching for corruption, or trying to expose something, and so a lot of times disagreeing plays into the narrative, and only reinforces their beliefs and their sense of “rightness,” because that’s what they expect to happen.

It plays to their expectations, and so they just kind of dismiss you, and write you off as just another grumpy dissenter who lost their way.

It’s just really really hard to get through to people, and help them see outside the box a little bit."

It's important to listen to people. Who are they? Where have they been? Why might they feel the way they feel? Could you ask them about that? Listen, without assuming that what is true or right for you is true or right for everyone. 

Because people disagree. It happens all the time in life, including in the Church. On a LOT of issues. Partly because God works with each of us a little differently, because God knows us! Sometimes because different experiences give different perspectives. Sometimes, people might even disagree on the issue of the Church having authority, which is pretty important for many, and that's okay, BECAUSE JESUS. 

The most beautiful truth I know, not just because I have been told it, but because I have felt it, is that God loves everyone. Everyone. Not just Us. Not NOT Them. Everyone. 

One friend who left the Church told me that after he had made his decision to leave, through much time, prayer, and study, he had a wonderful experience. After making his decision one morning he walked into work, and saw all the people around him. He felt that warm, spiritual confirmation that he and all of his coworkers were the same. All of them. He recognized that while he had been in the Church, he had felt a barrier between him and everyone else. When he left, he realized there had never been a barrier there at all. Because to God, we are all the same.

There's no need to create barriers. In an earlier post I wrote about a dream I was given about a wall, and the interpretation I was given was that as members of the Church we often create a wall between "believers" and everyone else. There is no wall. Our differences are not as big a deal as you feel they might be. The first great commandment is to love God. The second is like unto it. Love your neighbor. All of the law and the prophets hang on these two commandments. If Christ can raise up seed unto Abraham from stones, He can take care of your authority concerns. Have a little faith. You focus on the love bit. 

My wish is that the Church will become a place of love. It's not, for many. For many it's a place of judgement and feeling that they don't belong. There's a reason Alma encouraged his priests to preach nothing save it were repentance and faith on the Lord. (Mosiah 18:20) Because we can all do better, and with Christ, everyone belongs.

We need to watch the judgments we make either out-loud, or privately in our hearts. We need to make sure that we are listening to people that we disagree with, and providing a little room for empathy, love, and understanding, even if you'll never agree. Learn to view yourself as a child of God, literally just like everyone else. Make your love unconditional. Give it freely. 

The Foundational Charge

There's something about knowing - Something about seeing And understanding. You look at a person and you know The past, the effects, the reasons. To study the man in all his result, To view him as bare skin and bone. The study of it sings to you And as with Siren, you are drawn in. Is it to manipulate factors, To teach the studied impulses? These things that come so naturally to some Can be written and dissected, Brought to sheer basics and fact. Man is made man As we teach him the dream of the masses. The broke can be soldered As with heat and with iron. This is the path. This is the way. Your movements bespeak your history And I understand you, Better than even science can know. 

I wrote this poem when I was working out of the Emergency Room as a Patient Advocate for mental health patients. I had been pondering on my job as a social worker, and what it was about my job that I loved so much.

I realized that what I loved was that social work is all about finding what makes people tick. What is it that makes people who they are. What is it that makes people do what they do, and how, as a social worker, you can assist in shaping incorrect assumptions or fears, and redirect people into living happier, more functional lives. But in order to do that, you ask questions. Question after question after question, challenging assertions and digging deeper and deeper until you figure out THE ISSUE. Oftentimes buried deeply beneath poor coping mechanisms and years of baggage, you figure it out.

It's fairly safe to say that it's usually pain. There's been pain somewhere. Pain in the way an authority talked to them, and how they viewed themselves. Pain in the way they were treated. Sometimes false negative assumptions are formed. Sometimes coping mechanisms shut them off from potential relationships, out of fear. It's fear of something. I argue it's usually fear or avoidance of pain, both physical, social, spiritual, mental, etc.

Everyone experiences pain. Everyone. There's the old adage, or meme, that you should be kind to mothers of toddlers because you don't know how many times they've been screamed at already today. I would argue it's safe to remind that we should be kind to EVERYONE, because everyone experiences pain, and you don't know what pain they've experienced already.

In looking at my own life, and at my own day-to-day, I've come to slowly recognize that truth. ANY human behavior has a reason. I'm not so much a cynic that I believe people only do good things to avoid punishment, or pain, in the eternities, but I would argue most negative behaviors are responses to pain. I yell at my children because of my own pain, be it feeling unappreciated, overwhelmed with tasks, or otherwise. My children similarly misbehave due to their own pains, be it feeling powerless, hungry and tired, or pure and simple afraid of something.

You can expand this as far as you'd like. It's what social workers do. But most people, with the exception of the pure and simple sociopaths, have pure intentions, and any harms they commit are usually poor responses to their own deeper pains. (But frankly, even in the case of the fictional sociopath The Joker, we don't know where he got his scars.)

You could argue that if no one ever felt pain ever, humanity would be a different place - a place of kindness and understanding. But it wouldn't be one of growth, because it's through our struggling that we learn. It's through these painful, individual pasts that we are able to teach each other, learn empathy, and become more like God.

There's a reason that the first covenant we make with God is to mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort. Because most of the ills of the world come from places of pain, people will always need comfort, and the empathetic mourning of one who is able to walk in the other's shoes, and experience sorrow as the other experiences it, even if they don't agree. This first, foundational covenant has the ability to remove so much of what is wrong in the world.

We mourn with those that mourn when we listen to their experiences without judgement. We comfort when we are present, accepting the individual themselves, without demanding immediate change in their broken hearts. We mourn when we can set aside our own beliefs and agendas to focus, instead, on another's concern, without daydreaming of correctional statements to respond to them with. We comfort when we are able to see another's suffering and accept that their suffering is real, and we do something to alleviate that real suffering, without judgement.

We covenant to mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort. There is no covenant to mourn with those that follow God and live a lifestyle worthy of God's highest blessings. There is no covenant to comfort only those that have done nothing to bring pain upon themselves. This foundational charge is one that gives no room for individual, mortal judgments. In this covenant of mourning and comforting, the stipulation to "judge not" holds firm. You mourn empathetically. You comfort through pain and sadness. You reach outwards and prioritize the other's pain through THEIR experience.

Even if you think you know better. Even if you think they should do something differently. Even if you think they've done this to themselves. Even if you think they deserve it. Even if you think their pain isn't valid. Take a step back, and ask the questions. Be willing to take the time. Because no one is the antagonist in their own story. Because no one is a fool. Because no one deliberately chooses to hurt. Because people are inherently worth your effort and love.