Choice: A Major Life Update
Written March 2018
Let me tell you about the year I decided to stop shaving—my legs, my armpits, you name it. I was a budding feminist and had heard the talk about how shaving legs was just a cultural construct created by the patriarchy to sell razors, and after seeing my brother-in-law’s girlfriend sporting armpit curls and shaggy legs at a family wedding, the idea wouldn’t leave my mind.
The fear of social upheaval—rude comments, glares, that sort of thing—at first had me making excuses. “Well, what if I shave because I want to shave, or because I really like how it looks better? That’s fine, isn’t it?” That reasoning was fine, but I knew that I wasn’t shaving because I chose to. I was shaving because I was supposed to, because that’s what a good, pretty, conforming girl did. I was shaving because I was afraid that having hairy legs would make me gross and undesirable and because I was letting fear make the choice.
That realization was enough to get the rebellious, self-actualizing part of myself to step in and say, “Hold on a minute! I don’t do fear-based! If there’s going to be a real choice about this, then there have to be two options!” And so I decided to stop shaving until having hairy legs and armpits didn’t bother me anymore. I was going to stop shaving until I knew that I was in a place that deciding to shave again or to continue hairy was really about my preference, my comfort, and my choice.
***
It wasn’t long after I first made that choice that my husband Darin and I came home from another day at church that we’d dragged ourselves to, frustrated by the insensitive, parroted and uninspiring talks, lessons, and comments of our peers, and finally asked each other, “Why are we going to the Mormon church?”
My husband and I were raised as Mormons, a conservative branch of Christianity with its own, very distinct creed. Mormonism teaches that people existed as spirits before their earth life, that they chose to come to earth in order to get a physical body and to have all the positive and negative experiences of life to learn from them how to be a better person. Jesus performed the atonement in order to save people from their sins, and in order to help them through the suffering inherent in earth life. After death, people who choose to accept Jesus and who did their best to live a good life will have the opportunity to continue to grow and progress until they become gods, with all the knowledge and power associated. While this sounds like a very empowering theology, somewhere along the way the de facto culture of the church became obsessed with obedience to rules, rather than an open and honest exploration of life. Anyone openly disobeying church policy is ostracized, and people don’t talk to each other about “shameful” things that could benefit them to have conversations about, like struggles with individual rules, or how to live as an LDS person when you’re openly gay or trans. The church culturally enforces traditional gender roles, requires sex to remain within the confines of marriage (straight marriages), and enforces strict dietary and tithing laws, among other requirements, for members to have access to sacred spaces like temples.
So why were we going to Mormon church? It seemed like a ludicrous question to ask, at first, but it had been months since either of us had come home from church feeling even a little uplifted, inspired or empowered. We spent most weeks whispering comments under our breath to each other like, “Yeah, we wouldn’t want men raising children. The horror!” and mocking instructors who couldn’t even say the word “sex” let alone have a meaningful conversation about it.
“Well, we were both raised in the church. It’s not like we know any different,” was my husband’s first answer. While this was true, it wasn’t exactly inspiring.
“Oh great, we’re attending because of the ‘traditions of our fathers,’” (code for “false traditions” in Mormon speak) I jibed. “We all know what a good reason that is.”
He laughed. “I think we’re supposed to be going because ‘it’s true,’” he said.
“What’s true?” I asked. “What does that even mean? ‘The Church’ is true? The Church is an organization. It’s true! It exists!”
He laughed again. “I guess the Church’s rules are true? Mormon church is supposed to have all the ‘right’ rules and covenants to keep God happy with you so you can be saved.”
“Well if the details are so important, why didn’t God reveal Mormonism to the entire world, and a thousand years earlier?” I asked. “And anyway, all that talk about making sure you’re following the ‘right’ rules instead of doing what you actually and personally believe is right is fear-based and you know how much I hate fear-based.”
“Ok, maybe it’s supposed to mean ‘the Gospel’ is true, then, like the doctrine,” he said.
“Ok, sure,” I said. “I can accept that God appeared to Joseph Smith and told him to teach people to be loving and make covenants. But every religion teaches that you’re supposed to be loving and make covenants of some sort! Why are we going to Mormon church and not some other church? I hate Mormon church! I hate having people tell me that the only valid contribution I can make to the world is as a mother in my home. I hate having people tell me that I’m selfish for wanting more than that. I hate that Mormonism tells gay people that their real—REAL!—and meaningful and deep and loving relationships aren’t real and meaningful and deep and I hate the idea that the church tells those people that loving marriages are only eternal if they’re straight ones.
“I hate how insular the church is, how ‘loving your neighbor’ has been reduced to showing up at their house once a month to pretend like you’re best friends and nothing is wrong. I hate how the only reason to talk to your neighbors is to convert them. I hate how people pretend like the church has all the answers but there are still topics you can’t even bring up in church, let alone try to answer questions about.
“I hate how going to Relief Society (women’s group) is just a giant shame party that we don’t acknowledge. The whole three-hour service is a giant shame party! First you get to feel guilty about how you can’t focus on staring contemplatively out the window during the sacrament while you’re wrangling your kids. Then, during the talks, you get to feel guilty about not saying your prayers or reading your scriptures every day or whatever it is, like you know you should. Next up, you have shame about what a terrible wife and mother you are because you’re not making lunches, baking bread, doing yoga, and running a small farm out of your backyard, all while maintaining perfectly disciplined children, a perfectly contented smile and perfect hair and makeup! And last but not least, shame because if you are at all frustrated at the church and its culture because of any of this, it’s because you don’t have enough faith and you’re a miserable sinner!” I was crying now, having said all of it finally. “So why are we going?!”
After some thought, Darin said, “I think that, ideally, you’re supposed to go because you’re converted. You’re supposed to experience God’s love in this huge and powerful way that leaves you with a conviction that Mormonism’s version of loving and covenants is the only true one, and because of that conviction, everything else just follows, most importantly a desire to share that conviction with a community because it was such a transformative experience for you that you can’t not share it.”
“Well,” I said, voice cracking. “That would be a great reason, but I don’t have that.”
After a quiet moment, Darin looked me in the eyes. “Me neither. Mormonism has never been that compelling for me.”
“So why are we going?” I asked quietly.
“Probably just because we’re expected to, and we wouldn’t want to upset anybody. Because we want our friends and family to think well of us.”
“That’s not a good enough reason for me,” I said.
“Me neither,” he said. “If we are going to go, even if we’re not converted yet, it should be because we chose to be there, because we think it’s going to help us and make our lives better.”
“Do you think that?”
“Well,” he said. “Considering that big list you just made…”
I nodded. “No, you’re right. I don’t think it’s helping us right now. Maybe one day, when things are different, but the way things have been going recently I feel like I’ve poisoned the experience for myself. I need time away, time to see what else is out there. So I can choose.”
***
Earlier that year, for my birthday, my mom had bought us access to an online relationship course with a popular LDS sex therapist, Dr. Jennifer Finlayson-Fife, called “Enhancing Sexual Intimacy.” In the course, Dr. Fife talks about how the shamefulness of divorce in LDS culture causes couples to try to resolve their issues without divorce ever being a valid option. For that reason, couples often feel stuck in their marriages, with no legitimate “out,” which means they also can’t really choose to be “in.” The result is resentment towards a spouse they can’t escape from, but who they don’t really feel is choosing to be with them, either. Dr. Fife stresses that it takes two valid options before you can claim that you’ve chosen one of them, rather than just being stuck that way.
While Darin and I continued to discuss our spiritual questions, I thought about how this idea applied to my spirituality. Mormonism doesn’t have a valid “out.” There is no good reason to leave the church, and there is no good reason not to join it. In popular rhetoric, Mormonism’s God expects you to “fake it ‘til you make it,” to stick it out through doubt and lack of feeling in the name of faith. And if you don’t get the promised testimony or conversion? If you pray to know if the church is true and don’t get the “right” answer? You must not have enough faith, or maybe you “didn’t pray the right way.” From a social standpoint, joining or staying in the church is not your choice. The choice is made for you, by the Holy Spirit who answers prayers and whose answer is always the same. I find this especially ironic in a church whose Satan is the one who wanted, in pre-earth life, to force the children of God to be saved. In Mormonism, Satan seeks to deprive people of their agency, or their ability to choose for themselves. That doesn’t stop the church from trying to make certain choices as mandatory as possible, though.
While I’m sure most Mormons have heard the “fake it ‘til you make it” rhetoric, the belief that church membership is necessary for salvation isn’t strictly universal. Mormonism does believe that you can accept the church and make covenants after death (although with diminished blessings, in some cases). More influential to me is my father-in-law’s conversion story. When he prayed to know if the church was true and if he should join it, God told him that it was true, that it would bring him happiness and joy… and that if he wanted to reject it, to walk away, he could, and God wouldn’t punish him for doing so. When I first heard this story I puzzled over it, but now I understand. God gave him a real choice, because He knew that that was the only way that joining the church would be a meaningful decision for my father-in-law. The God I know knows better than to try to intimidate people into joining a religion. If I’m going to change and grow as a human being, He knows that it has to be because I want to. And in my opinion, the exact religious setting won’t make a difference.
***
We didn’t stop going to church immediately. I was still attending BYU, a church-sponsored school, and needed to maintain good standing with the church in order to graduate. For the same reason, and in the name of honesty, we decided to continue paying tithing to the church until I was done with school (tuition rates are lower for LDS students because they are subsidized by tithing money). Gradually, though, we started looking around at other churches. Despite my quarrels with the LDS church and its culture, I do have a strong belief in the existence of a God and in His interest in our moral development. I believe that He wants us to love each other, and that He wants to prepare us for and help us create in the boundless possibilities of existence. I believe that He uses all of the world’s religions and His influence in church (and other) organizations as tools to help people learn, and that He doesn’t limit His influence and the potential to help us to only one of those tools. For that reason, I don’t feel that my belief in God and my faith in the infallibility of the LDS church are tied together, even a little bit. God can use the LDS church to teach to the degree that members of that church allow Him to, but not choosing that specific church isn’t the same thing as not choosing to live a good and moral life.
Now that I’ve graduated from BYU, we’ve decided that, having seen the value of making sacrifices to support our community, we are going to keep paying a tithe to our new church community (a Unitarian Universalist church). We’ve started studying from a diversity of religious traditions, and we’ve decided to experiment with coffee, tea, and alcohol to see if any of those kinds of things have a place in our lives. We don’t plan on formally removing our names from church records.
Having both been endowed in the LDS church, we have decided to stop wearing our Garments because we understand the deep meaning and sacredness that the Garment and associated covenants hold for devout Mormons, and we feel that we can’t in good conscience represent those specific covenants while we’re living outside of the church. I struggled with this one the most, because there are certain aspects of the temple endowment that I feel very strongly connected to still, mostly embodied in a desire to seek God’s wisdom as I try my best to help people with the gifts I have, and in a willingness to make sacrifices for what I believe is right. But because the endowment makes clear that you are covenanting to obey LDS health codes and pay an LDS tithe, I decided that I shouldn’t wear the Garment if I wasn’t going to do those things. To my surprise, when I explained this choice and reasoning to God in prayer one evening, I felt that He approved of, or really respected, my decision. He seemed to say that if I was willing to be honest with Him then He would take me as I was and bless me for it. Together we will forge a new covenant, a choice one.
***
After about six months, I decided to shave my legs. I really do like how they look better when they’re shaved. On the other hand, I decided not to shave my armpits. Not having constant razor burn under there is a much better choice for me. It’s a good compromise and it’s meaningful because it’s based on my actual experience.
In the same way as choosing not to shave for a while didn’t mean I was choosing not to shave ever again, leaving the Mormon church doesn’t mean that we are closing the door on it. Neither of us are angry at the church, we just feel that it’s not a good fit for us right now, and that we need to know what choosing the church or choosing something else means. Maybe one day it will be a good fit again. Maybe one day we will have the massive conversion experiences that will make it easy to overlook the church’s faults and share God’s message of love and covenant in Mormon form. If we do come back, though, it will be because we choose to, free of fear, free of guilt, and because we know that it’s what’s going to make us happiest. And even if we don’t, I will always believe that making the choice you truly believe is right is more important than which choice you make.
