Why I Stay: Part 2

FOREWORD: This post is not about justifying one position or another. These are simply my "journal entry" thoughts that I am posting in hopes that others can understand the struggle this situation presents for members of the Church. It's also nice to not struggle alone. In my previous blog post, I explain other struggles I've had and why I  have stayed. I had to laugh at myself and the timing of that post as I have had to consider 'why I stay' all over again the past couple days. I haven't yet come to any conclusions, but it feels better to put my feelings to words. And maybe that's enough for now. 

I am heartbroken. I am not one to be dramatic and I am never one to break down in tears, but I have spent the better part of two days either holding back tears and pretending to be okay, or sobbing within the walls of my home or car. I honestly don't remember the last time I cried in front of someone (I take that back...I just remembered the night I thought my dog was dead cuz he got lost in the freezing snow for 24 hrs), but I cried like a little girl yesterday in my mother's arms. I think the tears are coming mostly from confusion. See, I am a problem solver; if I don't like something, I change it so it's my way, if I can't make it my way or if I can't find a reasonable middle ground, I disassociate myself. As I read the news on the new church policies, I thought, "this is it...I can't find middle ground here...I'm out." But that’s when more tears came. Because it's not that easy.

I can't support the new policy. I cannot get to the conclusion that the God and Jesus Christ that I have come to know through growing up as a member of the Church would want me to support it. I was taught from the time I was a sunbeam that I was to love and accept anyone and everyone, because that's what Jesus did. I was told to go out and be a missionary and bring people into the fold, regardless of the things they had done or the people that they were, because people can change and the Atonement can help change them. I knew from a young age that it was okay to be different and "peculiar," and that I shouldn't care what people think of me if I'm living the way that I have chosen to live, and I assumed that applied to people outside the Church with other differences and peculiarities as well. 

My mom reminded me yesterday that I loved the story of the ten lepers when I was a child. I did. I LOVED that story. I remember the primary talk I gave on it. A lot of people use that story to illustrate the need for gratitude. I loved that story because Jesus helped the lepers when everyone else had turned their backs on them. They were quarantined and left alone. But Jesus knew they needed help and love, and he gave it to them when they asked. And with the simple faith that the leper had who came back to thank Jesus, Jesus told him that his faith had made him whole. As easy as that. No conditions. I can’t imagine that Christ would limit his blessings to a certain group of people. He wouldn’t, and we shouldn’t.

So here I am, wondering why it's not easier to leave.

One of my friends said it best yesterday as we were texting about how to sort through something like this. She said she felt betrayed. I didn’t realize that’s what I was feeling until she used that word. Betrayal. I was taught to believe one thing, developed a strong testimony of it, and then slapped with a policy like this that goes against everything I was taught. Internal thoughts included: “how could they do this to me? How can they make me choose between this and my testimony of the gospel? Why the children? Why an outright exclusion to individuals who have a desire to know the truth? Why now? How am I supposed to stay? How am I supposed to leave? Why are people defending this policy without the slightest struggle to know if it’s right?” The way I see it, it’s not about same-sex marriage. It’s not about beliefs on what is “wicked” or “righteous.” It’s the fact that we just closed our doors. And in the process, we offended not only those that live in the specific situations barred, but also a whole lot of other people that love someone in that situation. Sure, we don't need to worry about offending people that refuse to agree with our beliefs, but this offense reaches so many individuals that were probably willing to accept our beliefs, individuals that may have been interested in what we had to say before. We didn't only take away membership opportunities from innocent children and teens, we made certain that a large part of the world would never consider coming to be part of our membership. We took away so many other opportunities.

I have always found it odd that some people say “who cares what the world thinks of you because it only matters what God thinks of you.” I have always cared what “the world” thinks about me in terms of my beliefs and representation of Christ, because you know what that “world” is? It’s people. Individuals with hearts. I care about people and I care about their happiness. I don’t care if they agree with my views on things, but I DO care about how I make them feel. And I believe that God cares about how we make others feel. We claim to be a representation of Christ, so people are going to hold us to that standard. This policy does not reflect the doctrines and core values we believe in and that I have a testimony in.

This Gospel is my life. As many know, being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is not just about going to church on Sunday when we want. It’s a lifestyle. It’s a dedication to things that we know to be true. It is who we are. I am who I am because I am a member of the Church. That’s why I am not sure what leaving means. I am still, and will always be, a believer of Christ and will always be invested in the Gospel, I think. The problem is: where do you take what remains of a testimony of the Gospel? I will continue to need a place where I can take my unique faith. I am not sure I can do that without continuing to go to, and participate in, this Church. So, I keep walking through those doors every Sunday. I share my opinions when I can, and I help people think outside the box when I can. I teach Relief Society once a month and several sisters always thank me for the new perspectives I bring to the usual lessons and for making them think in a different way; it is comforting to know that some members need to hear my voice. I will continue to fast and pray for the strength that I need to continuously look around me and see individuals that do not have my same mind or heart. Church has been lonely for me for quite some time now, but I imagine it will be exponentially lonelier for me now.

I know there are others like me. I mentioned to my mom that this is so hard for me because this is really the first major trial of my faith. I didn’t grow up in the blacks-without-the-priesthood era. I didn’t experience the struggle of having to live with a policy that was wrong, and I wasn’t subsequently vindicated when the church leaders admitted that it was wrong. Maybe if I knew that feeling, this would be just one more thing I had to get through, and I would maybe have more hope that things will be "fixed" in the future. But this is my blacks-without-the-priesthood. And I am hoping and praying that soon the church leaders will admit, again, that they are wrong. I may not understand it all right now, but I have come to understand the Gospel in a way that I cannot turn my back on it. Where that leaves me, I don’t know. I do know it leaves me with some tough years ahead. I know it leaves me with the difficult task of finding a place for my opinions and views (which has always been difficult, but I’ve found a way). I know it leaves me with some serious heartache. I know it leaves me with some confusing relationships with people that I cannot see eye-to-eye with. But such is life. And if I’ve learned anything from this life, it’s that I can do hard things. And, for me, I can do hard things because of my faith in Jesus Christ.