About a year ago, I began a systematic study of prophets, posting what I hoped would be a serial work that help both me and others in our quest to understand our relationship to God's prophets and His relationship with them.
About 6 months ago, that study ran out of gas.
First, the chaos of the fall semester overcame my free time. Even when I had a moment to spare, my mental fatigue enticed me towards the fluffier things of life instead of an intricate study of faith and discipleship. My intention was always to pick up where I left off this coming January.
Then, two months ago, my intellectual connection with the LDS Church was significantly fractured by policy changes that made gay and lesbian marriages grounds for formal apostasy (to non-LDS readers: that means "discipline" intended to correct individuals' heretical behavior and/or sever ties with the heretical individuals), with various other conditions and repercussions that I won't go into here. This significantly conflicted with my beliefs in a way that I could no longer ignore. My personal belief has long been that God's plan has a purpose for all of us. That none of us are mistakes in that plan. That gay, straight, or anything else, we are not mistakes but rather manifestations of eternity's complexity.
The church's policy announcement fractured a carefully woven bubble I had constructed to allow this belief to flourish within the mainstream church. By reading nuance and in between lines, I had been able to nestle my theology within the church's larger theological framework without untoward cognitive dissonance. A combination of loyalty, tradition, and commitment to other aspects of LDS theology kept me lashed to the mainstream church. However, once the policy announcement ended the continued possibility of my belief within the church's framework, I had a number of difficult questions to ask. Perhaps "had" is a little misleading since those questions continue to form the nucleus of my thought in the quiet hours I dedicate to study, meditation, thought, and prayer. As time went on, my thoughts moved beyond prophets and policy to other areas.
The more I thought and studied and listened, the more I began to question a number of assumptions I held about LDS practice and theology. Currently, I am renegotiating my place in the LDS church. I still attend and serve in my calling. I do that out of the same loyalty, tradition, and sense of responsibility that has always motivated me to attend and serve. I even still teach at BYU, the church's flagship university (though that contract ends this year and I do not plan to renew it). However, I have been clear with my leaders that I do not believe current church policies to be sound, nor will I advocate or defend them within the purview of my calling.
I have also been clear that this fracture has caused a chain reaction of doubt and uncertainty about many of the core doctrines espoused by the church. In LDS-speak, this could be termed a "crisis of faith" or "losing my testimony." I'm not sure I would use these terms. Instead, I see it as an opportunity to search and ponder for additional truth. In fact, this is where the blog comes in. In the coming months and even years, I plan on sharing what I learn as I question fundamental aspects of LDS theology and practice.
To start, I will share the letter I sent to my bishop two months ago. I think this is a good way to share with others what I was thinking at the initial fracture point in November. Then, I'll post some thoughts about how that initial fracture led to additional doubts.
Finally, I'll begin the more constructive aspect of this journey as I seek to better understand divinity, its manifestations in my life, and my responsibility towards it. I hope you'll offer constructive critique and insight along the way.
Who knows but someday I'll make it full circle back to completing The Road to Middoni.
About 6 months ago, that study ran out of gas.
First, the chaos of the fall semester overcame my free time. Even when I had a moment to spare, my mental fatigue enticed me towards the fluffier things of life instead of an intricate study of faith and discipleship. My intention was always to pick up where I left off this coming January.
Then, two months ago, my intellectual connection with the LDS Church was significantly fractured by policy changes that made gay and lesbian marriages grounds for formal apostasy (to non-LDS readers: that means "discipline" intended to correct individuals' heretical behavior and/or sever ties with the heretical individuals), with various other conditions and repercussions that I won't go into here. This significantly conflicted with my beliefs in a way that I could no longer ignore. My personal belief has long been that God's plan has a purpose for all of us. That none of us are mistakes in that plan. That gay, straight, or anything else, we are not mistakes but rather manifestations of eternity's complexity.
The church's policy announcement fractured a carefully woven bubble I had constructed to allow this belief to flourish within the mainstream church. By reading nuance and in between lines, I had been able to nestle my theology within the church's larger theological framework without untoward cognitive dissonance. A combination of loyalty, tradition, and commitment to other aspects of LDS theology kept me lashed to the mainstream church. However, once the policy announcement ended the continued possibility of my belief within the church's framework, I had a number of difficult questions to ask. Perhaps "had" is a little misleading since those questions continue to form the nucleus of my thought in the quiet hours I dedicate to study, meditation, thought, and prayer. As time went on, my thoughts moved beyond prophets and policy to other areas.
The more I thought and studied and listened, the more I began to question a number of assumptions I held about LDS practice and theology. Currently, I am renegotiating my place in the LDS church. I still attend and serve in my calling. I do that out of the same loyalty, tradition, and sense of responsibility that has always motivated me to attend and serve. I even still teach at BYU, the church's flagship university (though that contract ends this year and I do not plan to renew it). However, I have been clear with my leaders that I do not believe current church policies to be sound, nor will I advocate or defend them within the purview of my calling.
I have also been clear that this fracture has caused a chain reaction of doubt and uncertainty about many of the core doctrines espoused by the church. In LDS-speak, this could be termed a "crisis of faith" or "losing my testimony." I'm not sure I would use these terms. Instead, I see it as an opportunity to search and ponder for additional truth. In fact, this is where the blog comes in. In the coming months and even years, I plan on sharing what I learn as I question fundamental aspects of LDS theology and practice.
To start, I will share the letter I sent to my bishop two months ago. I think this is a good way to share with others what I was thinking at the initial fracture point in November. Then, I'll post some thoughts about how that initial fracture led to additional doubts.
Finally, I'll begin the more constructive aspect of this journey as I seek to better understand divinity, its manifestations in my life, and my responsibility towards it. I hope you'll offer constructive critique and insight along the way.
Who knows but someday I'll make it full circle back to completing The Road to Middoni.
I really respect you and love you and look forward to reading all the words you have to write. I've been really bothered with how complacent I've been lately. I'm looking forward to finding answers. And I hope you find some too.
ReplyDeleteThank you, my friend. The respect and love are absolutely mutual!
DeleteHello David. This is your Uncle Aaron. Thank you for writing so honestly and articulately about your crisis of faith. The homosexual question has not been as personal for me as for some, so I haven't yet thought it through to the level that you have. With that noted, I have had serious struggles with human frailty in the Church for over a decade now. In a nutshell, I have been on the receiving end of unrighteous dominion from local leadership to the degree that the continued activity of most, if not all, of my children has been compromised. The instances where this has occurred would take many pages to describe and could be substantiated by as many witnesses as would be needed to ensure that I am not making this up. After several years of abuse, I tried to communicate with someone at the general level, but my letter was returned to the verify people who were engaging in the abuse and in the classic way the victim was accused of the crime. I had, frankly, no where to turn, at least in the earthly version of the Church. This problem persists even to the present day.
ReplyDeleteTo add to the struggle, it has seemed to me that many family members (particularly on the Fife side) have purposely remained distant. Instead of being supported, my struggles have been a basis for suspicion and condemnation. Contact with all but one or two people on that side of the family has been minimal at best. Yet, I wonder why this is the case. I have lived a life almost completely beyond reproach and have been and am very much respected in my profession and community. There seems to me to be a deep cultural fear of anyone who struggles with any aspect of the Church. Perhaps I'm reading it all wrong and my perception is only based on my emotional wounds. I can't be entirely sure.
In any case, the human side of the Church is sometimes deeply flawed, not just a little off kilter. If I were to describe what has happened to me to a clinical psychologist or expert in legal matters the conclusion would be clear. Yet, I have not standing to address this despite serious harm to me and my family. All of this after a lifetime of dedication to the faith. When the challenge was at its worst, I would often sit in my chair prior to church working hard to quell the nausea that always came when I wondered what abuse would happen that day. I struggled reading my scriptures, not because I did not believe them, quite the contrary. I struggled because the conflict between the beauty I found there and the ugliness I had to face was so great I could not stand to be reminded of it. I suppose I'm venting a bit here.
My only recourse has been to go straight to the top, if you will. Only through prayer and the assurances that come from directly from the Spirit have I been able to weather the ongoing abuse. My faith in direct connections to my Father has, perhaps, never been greater.
I'm glad you could write to an "excellent bishop." All people should have this opportunity. No one should not have to face a bishop who pulls them into his office to tell him he is a failure, a bishop who will not let his EQ president (me) even provide a spiritual thought in PEC meeting for three years let alone any other pertinent comment, a bishop/stake president who publicly humiliates him over the pulpit, a leader who calls him on the phone to yell at him, a leader who drives away every family he has been able to activate, . . . the list is, as mentioned, long.
So, please keep writing. Some of us need to read such honesty. Like you, I love the Gospel. It is in my bones. I had completed my own topical guide of the entire Bible by the time I was 18 years old. I know what I believe and will hold onto it for dear life, but over the last 10-15 years I have had to prove that resolve much more so than I ever thought possible.
Best wishes,
Aaron
I'm so sorry to hear about this abuse. This mean-spirited frailty is something I think we've come to understand, even expect, but should never be something we accept. I'm quite fond of your family and hope all the best as you continue your good fight. And who knows? We might be able to reconnect in the near future if things work out to make geography less of an obstacle between my family and yours.
Delete