Finding Purpose--Finding Joy

Years ago, I was among a large group of relatives at a Christmas party. My uncle wanted each of us to tell something about ourselves. One family member declared that she was working on being happy. Being happy! What a strange thing to say. Just be happy, I thought. How hard is it? That was back at the age when I had everything figured out, under the age of thirty.

Life, since then has taught me a thing or two. Happiness seemed outside of my grasp, a decade or so after that party. The endless lump in my throat. The heavy chest. The tears only a blink away. The utter hopelessness. For me, that first depression was only a mild one, but it taught me what my relative meant. Happiness wasn’t as easy a thing to maintain as I had previously thought.

Now another couple of decades have passed since then and the happiness roller coaster continues. One of the tenets of my Mormon faith is personal revelation. And even though a quick search on LDS.org shows that personal revelation is talked about by our church leaders literally thousands of times over the years, it’s something that church members argue about. If you bring it up in Sunday School or Relief Society you will find that your personal revelation will be subject to scrutiny by other members. We judge each other’s personal revelation. But see, I don’t think we have the right to do that. By the very name of it, there’s only one person entitled to it—the individual. So if you think I'm off in left field, that's ok, that's your right. And it's my right to be me. 

I have no doubt that some members of my faith have wondered if I’ve gone off the deep end because I post so many controversial things, especially on LGBT issues. And then yes, there’s that other little thing—my feminist leanings. In the last year or two as challenges to feeling real joy have yet resurfaced, I’ve prayed for answers. Sometimes I would lie in bed at night and not be able to sleep because of the anxiety I've felt over the way my church didn’t have any real answers for the LGBT community. Over the years I’ve read a few things. I've listened to BYU’s Dr. William Bradshaw. I've read Carol Lynn Pearson’s books. I’ve listened to LGBT friends and parents. I've read about suicides attempts and suicides. My heart grew heavier. I had to take a break and step away from the church for a time. Attending caused me too much pain. The God I believe in would provide a viable path for his children--all His children--not just the straight.

One morning as I lay in bed, after another sleepless night. I was so sad. God doesn’t reject his children and neither should His church. While I was thinking about this an answer came. And it was very clear. “Don’t just mourn. Do something.”

Well, I’m no expert, but I know my heart. A few years ago, I didn’t dare post anything. I didn’t dare write anything on this issue. Even though I felt like it was important then, I didn’t want my name attached to it. But the great thing about personal revelation is that when you follow the spirit, He gives you the peace and confidence that you need to go forward. Finally, I understand that fear dissipates when you exercise faith. And as I am following my purpose and writing my blog, doing interviews, and attending meetings, my peace and happiness has returned.

Living in the Gray

Most people in my LDS faith are more comfortable with certainty. Testimonies are filled with repeated phrases that start with "I know." I know that God lives, that Jesus Christ is his son and my savior, that Joseph Smith was a prophet and so on. It's tidy and it's simple. We like that. But what if you don't know? It can be personally unsettling, but even more unsettling is some people don't know how to treat those of us who live in the gray. Should you call us to repentance? Should you tread lightly? Should you put our names in the temple? Should you show an extra measure of love and kindness?

I'm surrounded by black and white thinkers in the church, my family, my ward, and amongst my friends. I may at times strain their patience.  But lately I've had a few kindnesses from some of those black and white thinkers. My stake president is a rare man. Ideologically, politically, and in every other way I believe, a polar opposite of me. Yet when he asked me how I was doing and I told him I was still hanging on, he said. "Don't let go." A few kind words that warm my questioning heart. I've had other friends who have called on the phone to see how I'm doing, or who tell me they are sorry that I'm feeling sad after a troubling lesson at church, or I've received encouraging text messages, and some have let me cry when my heart breaks for the umpteenth time.

I'm a new fan of Terryl and Fiona Givens. First, I read a book by them and published by Deseret Book, which means even the black and white thinkers can't disapprove, right? It's called "The God Who Weeps: How Mormonism Makes Sense of Life"  Then after I read it I listened to a podcast interview on Mormon Stories with the authors. The book is like reading a Mormon C.S. Lewis and I underlined many passages throughout. The Givens's give doubt elevated status. On page 4, they state "There must be grounds for doubt as well as belief, in order to render the choice more truly a choice, and therefore the more deliberate, and laden with personal vulnerability and investment. An overwhelming preponderance of evidence on either side would make our choice as meaningless as would a loaded gun pointed at our heads. The option to believe must appear on one's personal horizon..."And then on p. 8 "In our experience most believers, like doubters, are continually adjusting their paradigms to make better sense of the world as they experience it. Belief is fluid. So is doubt."

I loved that. When my Aunt Emma Lou Thayne came and spoke to my book club, she said "Doubt is the first step to belief." Hearing of these faithful doubters brought back to my memory something I have never believed, "faith and fear cannot exist at the same time." I'm living proof as I take one fearful step at a time while navigating my best on a journey of faith, that it can and does exist together. I remember those first, but thrilling words sitting on a medical table at a small doctor's office in Garland, Utah. "You're pregnant!"  I was a young married woman of twenty-two years. Excitement and fear flooded me. Can every pregnant woman remember that faith climbs right into the car with your fear when you head to the hospital to deliver a child? And then of course, every day there after I raised my kids in a troubling world, my faith and my fear hand in hand as partners in parenthood.

On my path I've come across other weary travelers who also have struggled with faith. Some have emerged with a new outlook and faith very different than the one on which they began. Some end up in the same place, rooted once again in Mormonism but with a nuanced understanding and compassion. And some still have the look in their eyes that I still recognize in my own. The pain is still on the surface. Many of my gospel friends can't understand what our problem is, "just believe," they may say. Another thing Terry Givens said in another interview I heard, was that "you can offer someone all the money in the world to believe in the Easter Bunny and they won't be able to do it." Belief can't be forced. In Gospel terms, it's "line upon line." But as the Givens's said, "Belief is fluid. So is doubt."

They end the book with this this hopeful passage. "The New Testament makes the point that those mortals who operate in the gray area between conviction and incredulity are in a position to choose most meaningfully, and with most meaningful consequences.

Peter's tentative steps across the water capture the rhythm familiar to most seekers. He walks in faith, he stumbles, he sinks, but is embraced by the Christ before the waves swallow him. Many of us will live our lives in doubt..."

I've heard others say Peter sank because he doubted, forgetting that he ever walked on water at all. If I laid out my spiritual experiences end to end, I would guess few of them would have happened within the walls of a church building; they are everywhere, hiking in mountains and witnessing a sunset, seeing a random kindness at the grocery store, at the bedside of a dying loved one, holding a newborn baby, and so on and so on. But having a community to share those experiences with in a common language can bring us closer as a people and to God. Can the doubters and the believers learn to not judge each other?

I'm learning to be comfortable living in the gray. And I'm still hanging on.

Thoughts about Manufacturing the Spirit

In my adult life I've been very leery of manufactured spiritual experiences. I wasn't sure why, but I've been suspicious of treks, special camps, pretend scenarios such as airplane crashes and others that end up being about judgement and rewards and so on. It's been hard to stick to my dislike when group after group of people bear testimony about the life-changing experiences, but I've managed to keep my distance from such things.

Years ago, when I was in a YW's position, one of these manufactured spiritual experiences was being discussed and I got a pit in my stomach. Even though I was not the president at the time, I knew I had to do something to stop it. There was going to be a whole judgement day game and at the end those who had made "right" choices would be rewarded and those who did not would not get the reward of the celestial kingdom at the end. It was just a game after all, so why did I get so sick about it? I discussed the "game" with a friend and she pointed out that the game denied the atonement. After all there was no place in the game for those who had made the mistakes or listened to Satan's voice to repent. And even a game that does that is wrong if it was held under the guise of a church function.

I was so uneasy about the event even though among all my leaders, both in Young Women's and in Young Men's and in the bishopric, I was the only dissenting voice. Plans were underway. With a pounding heart, I drafted a letter that declared why I thought it was wrong and delivered it to one of the leaders in charge. The activity was cancelled. And no, it was not because of my letter. The decision was made before the letter was delivered. One of the husband's of one of the YW's leaders remembered a similar activity when he was growing up and he felt like it was a damaging experience. I was relieved, but somewhat bothered that he was the only one who seemed to know that things that are supposed to be a wake-up call can backfire. Or activities that are supposed to evoke emotion are replaced for true spiritual experiences.

Today I came across this blogpost that hit my uneasiness about these things on the head. Spirit and Emotion can be confused and often are, but they are not the same thing. Read and enjoy.