This person knows my far left stance on politics and social issues and has seen me call out the church and its members on several occasions.

And I appreciate the way the question was worded. Usually, the question is, “Why don’t you just leave?” That implies to me that there is only one solution.

So, why do I stay?

Well, as I responded to that person, it’s complex. I was short on time, so I couldn’t explain it then. Writing about it gives me a chance to think about it and organize my thoughts.

First of all, I seriously considered leaving when the 2015 exclusionary policy came out. It was a gruelling decision that didn’t come easily. And despite deciding to stay, the option to leave is still on the table and one I’ve contemplated several times since.

I think the biggest thing is that I’m still Mormon. Despite not being born in the church, Mormonism is still a part of me. Its theology is in my soul and its liturgy speaks to me. There’s still something about the symbolism found in its ordinances, how they bridge the human and the divine, the known and the unknown, the observed and the mysterious.

Anyone who has been following my poetry can probably tell that the esoteric is meaningful to me. Angels, and heaven, and gods, and afterlife, and visions, and stones, and plates, they all fascinate me.

And, sure, I realize I don’t need to attend to believe in the esoteric. Heck, my most spiritual experiences over the last year have been in nature and not in a building. But attending a building that feels empty still keeps me connected to those bridging ordinances.

Speaking of bridges, another reason I stay is my ability, through the priesthood, to be a conduit with heaven. Even though I don’t have frequent opportunities anymore to use my priesthood to petition heaven on another’s behalf, the potential still has meaning for me.

Related to ordinances and priesthood is the idea of cultural milestones. Beyond the spiritual aspects, I find value in seeing my children hit the cultural milestones of baby blessings, baptism, graduating primary, completing seminary, serving missions, receiving endowments, and marrying in the temple. Especially when I can be a part of the process. And not necessarily because I think they have to complete them, but I see them in the same way Catholics see first communion or confirmation or Jewish people see bar/bat mitzvahs.

Another reason I stay is community. I fully realize that community is found outside the church, but community is one reason I stay, not the only reason. And even though my church relationships don’t seem to have much depth anymore and some fellow ward members report me to the bishop for blog posts or warn new move-ins about me, I still appreciate the warm handshakes, the cordial smiles, and the friendly how-are-yous. And one thing Mormons are good at is rallying together to help someone, hearkening back to the communitarian beginnings of the church, and I like when I can be a part of that.

The final reason I stay is I want to see change. I believe that God wants us to live in an egalitarian society. And as such, I believe that ultimately we need to eliminate all discrimination, whether it be race, sex, orientation, gender, orientation, ethnicity, or belief. If all those who advocate for equality leave, no one remains to change minds or to create cultural pressure to adjust discriminatory teachings, practices, or policies. And that change will occur at a much slower rate. We need more advocates, not fewer.

Every time I once again contemplate leaving, I go through the complex process of evaluating the cost of losing all these things I value. And whether those costs are worth it for me to have a more comfortable life. Especially since my life is one of privilege and the only thing I give up by staying is comfort. Which is a far smaller threat than that which marginalized groups have to bear.

Plus, I get a kick out of every time someone asks, “Wait. You’re Mormon?”

Coincidentally, I’ve written 6 new poems over the last few weeks. I had planned to write only one poem, but it started to go in a different direction. I knew that I had to write another. Then another. And another.

Then Gina Colvin interviewed Lindsay Hansen Park on A Thoughtful Faith in an episode called “Critiquing Progressive Mormonism”, and all of a sudden, I had loads of ideas for future poems.

What started out as a single poem about my recent faith crisis has morphed into a series. So far, I have just 6, but I plan to write a few more exploring various aspects of faith crisis, especially in a Mormon context.

Anyhow, I wanted to share what I’ve written so far, so here they are (with a brief summary of each). Keep in mind that I typically like to use a lot of symbolism, some of it subtle and some of it obvious. See if you can find all the symbols I’ve used.

The Dying Fire

The Dying Fire is a poem that explores my faith history up until the policy change last November. It’s fitting that it was the first poem because it sets the stage for the others.

As Years Crawl By

As Years Crawl By highlights the parallel between erosion and faith crisis.

Confrication

Confrication compares faith crisis with the idea of friction, and Newton’s third law of motion.

Flying to Space

Flying to Space illustrates the struggle of desiring to and trying to live in two worlds.

Familiar Dance

Familiar Dance delves into the idea of finding good in what is typically seen as bad, and vice versa.

Fall of the Mountain

Fall of the Mountain was inspired by a recent temple experience (well, my four most recent temple experiences).

Let me know what you think in the comments below. Don’t forget to include your thoughts on the symbolism I used.

And it makes me sad.

But not sad for why you might think. I’m not worried about their eternal salvation or their lost blessings.

I’m sad because it deepens the friction of my own struggles. Sad because it widens the chasm between where I am and where I want to be, between my morality and my spirituality. Sad because it makes the hill I’m trying to climb steeper and higher. Sad because it strangles my hope.

I think people assume that since I decided to stay in the church after last November’s debacle that I have somehow reconciled myself with everything, and that I had smoothed out all the wrinkles and healed all the wounds. But that is not true at all. Not even close.

My faith crisis never went away.

I still struggle. Every day. I still struggle to know what I want to do. I still struggle to know where I want to be. I still struggle to know who I am.

And nothing I’ve tried fixes it. Certainly none of the typical Mormon advice.

Prayer doesn’t work. I pray every day. Several times every day. And I try. I try so hard to pour out my soul. Often my prayers seem empty and repetitious, but there are times when I put my heart into it and I plead—desperately plead—for direction and guidance and enrichment. And nothing.

Scripture study doesn’t work. I study my scriptures every day. And I don’t just skim them. I delve into the words, looking for meaning and insight. Sometimes I find it, but it all seems superficial. None of it motivating me toward a change of heart to true spirituality.

Temple attendance doesn’t work. I’ve been back to the temple 3 times since the November 2015 policy change, and each time, it has been negative experiences. My first time back was for an endowment session, and I felt uncomfortable and like an outsider. My second time back was for sealings, and I felt intense promptings to just get up and leave (I didn’t leave.). My most recent time back was for baptisms, and it was less negative than the others, but it lacked even a crumb of spiritual nourishment. Maybe it was prophetic that the last time I attended the temple prior to the policy change I felt like I was saying goodbye.

So, I sit here sad.

One thing that having two faith crises has done for me is allowing me to compare them. In most ways, they were different. Different triggers, different durations, different reactions, and different emotions.

One specific way the two faith crises differed was the level of openness I took with each.

With my first faith crisis, I kept the entire thing private. Even though Mary knew eventually what I was growing through, she didn’t know all of it.

I was scared. I was scared of what people would think of me if they knew that I doubted God’s existence. I was scared of what they would think of the black and white perspective I had publicly nurtured for myself. I wondered how it might affect what future callings I could receive.

With my second faith crisis, all that was different. People already knew that I was critical of some things regarding the church, so I didn’t need to worry how they’d react. Sure, my response this time around might have been more abrupt when compared to other times when I criticized elements of church governance. But it wasn’t much of a stretch.

I have tried to, over the last few years, tried to present my viewpoint as a grey one. so I don’t think, from that perspective, that it surprised people that I took a view this time around that wasn’t black and white, that I could still sustain the leaders as prophets, seers, and revelators while simultaneously rejecting a policy they endorsed.

Regarding callings, well, let’s just say I’ve become disenchanted with the calling process over the last 3 or 4 years. As a result, I’m no longer that invested in what callings I receive.

That explains some background on why I was less worried about posting publicly about my faith crisis this time around. What it doesn’t explain was why I did it at all.

I was open this time around because I thought it was important that others who were struggling realized that they weren’t alone. I also thought it was important for people to realize that when others go through faith crises, the reasons for doing so are often complex and heterogeneous.

While I was going through the process, an unintended consequence of my openness was an outpouring of support and empathy, which themselves were cathartic and helped me through my struggle. That was something clearly absent my first time around, when I hid it from everyone.

All this leads me to the core question that prompted me to write this post: why are some people so concerned with how they appear to others? What was it that motivated me the first time to keep it hidden? What was it that created an environment where I felt I needed to hide it?

I received so many messages from people who told me that they were struggling with the policy changes, some of whom were actually having faith crises. Yet most of them, if not all of them, remained silent. Why is that?

Why do we have a culture that prevents people from questioning openly, a culture that labels those who question as apostate and heretical?

If we provided safe spaces where people could discuss their questions without consequence and received unconditional support to work through their questions, how would that affect the outcome of faith crises among our members?

Despite the implied message in that charged, clickbait headline, I’m not staying because I feel pressured to.

I’ve been busy over the last week or so. I’ve been reading dozens of blog posts, listening to dozens of podcasts, watching dozens of videos, responding to dozens of private messages, and reviewing hundreds of Facebook comments. I’ve been ruminating on it all.

So why am I staying?

For years, I’ve been exercising autonomy in my religious beliefs, believing what I wanted regardless of whether it was conventional or traditional. I’ve refused letting anyone else dictate what I could believe.

A few days ago, Mary said something that reminded me of this. She determined that she’s staying because she won’t let some men decide whether she stays or goes. I’m staying because I’m exercising my autonomy.

I’m not staying because I was told to, because I was told I was needed, or because I was told that I couldn’t be Mormon while not attending. I’m staying because I chose to.

As someone else said this week, if I leave, my voice diminishes. If I stay, my voice remains. Although, I haven’t been in a leadership position for nearly 7 years, I’ve still had opportunities to speak my mind. I’ve been a teacher for over 4 years now, which allows me to control the rhetoric. Even though I often feel alone, I still have hope that I can change dialogue, and new dialogue leads to new values, priorities, and paradigms. And when I’m no longer teaching, I can still share my thoughts and opinions. If I leave, all I have left for a voice is online (here, social media, etc), and the only ones who’ll listen are those who already agree.

I’m not just any Mormon. Despite not being born in the church, I consider myself Mormon culturally, not just spiritually. The Mormon sacraments are an important part of my life. The ability I have to participate in them as not just a recipient but a bestower allows me to participate in the sacraments of my children not as a bystander, but as a conduit. Something my Catholic ancestors couldn’t do.

If I left, I miss out on baptizing half of my children. I miss out on remaining my son’s hometeaching companion. I miss out on escorting my sons through the temple and seeing my daughters go through. I miss out on serving a mission with Mary. These are all milestones I find value in as a cultural Mormon.

I’m also staying because what became apparent to me this week is that there exists in the church many people who understand and fulfill their baptismal covenants to mourn with and comfort those who grieve, free of judgement and bias. I want to be one with them. While it’s a challenge to be unified in building true Zion in a church that’s so pharisaical, knowing that there are loving, compassionate people in the church makes me want to be part of it. Certainly, I can do that outside of the church, but I believe opportunities exist within the church for me. And the church certainly needs more communists.

Another reason I’m staying is because the esoteric aspects of Mormonism appeal to my heart. Deeply. And while I lament that much of the esoteric that was common in the early church of nearly 200 years ago has disappeared or been minimized, I recognize that the temple still contains it. While some might find it odd, I find it satisfying, and it serves as my connection to a time when angels visited the earth, people saw visions with stones, and spiritual fire engulfed entire buildings. By staying, I still have access to the temple.

It’s an odd circumstance. The Mormon church is one of the few Christian churches that puts restrictions on who can enter religious facilities, which forces me to follow their rules if I want to use those facilities. I stay, completely aware of this.

So why am I upset?

I’m upset because the new policy is abhorrent.

Let’s just set aside the fact that the policy was written by the church’s law firm and not the prophets, seers, and revelators. (That’s a blog topic on its own.) It’s ridiculous that the church now says that anyone in a same-sex marriage is apostate. It makes no sense. Gay Mormons can be supportive of the church in every other way (paying tithing, keeping the commandments, serving in a calling, home teaching, living the Word of Wisdom, and so forth), yet if they marry someone of the same sex, somehow that’s considered a turning away. If you’re going to list marriage as a sign of apostasy, why not list living common law as a sign of apostasy?

In addition, it’s hypocritical to mandate church discipline for marriage when there are far worse things (rape and child abuse for example) for which church discipline is optional.

Finally, limiting the children of gay parents from fully participating in the church’s sacraments is wholly unfair. The church is not actually concerned with protecting children; it’s using that as an excuse to punish its gay members who are parents. If the welfare of children was truly important, then things that actually damage children would be addressed. For example, making church discipline mandatory for those who abuse children or labelling child abuse as a sign of apostasy would be a start. By not taking action on things that actually harm children, the church shows us that its stance on protecting children is empty and meaningless.

The so-called clarification letter issued by the church certainly improves the lives of children in straight families with gay parents or children in gay families who have already received ordinances. But let’s not lose sight of the fact that this policy still targets a group of children in the church: those of gay parents.

And the policy clarification changes nothing for our situation. Our bisexual daughter, should she choose to marry a woman and have children raised in the church, would still be a target of the policy. I would still never be able to to bless or baptize those grandchildren.

And that hurts. My church has hurt me.

Last Thursday, it felt like my church sucker punched me in the gut. Today, those bruises are not gone. I don’t feel less angry. My decision to stay is not an admission that the policy was right. No, I categorically reject the policy. It is entirely wrong. I’m staying despite the policy.

Speaking of my daughter, some have suggested that I need to take steps to protect my daughter. That just stinks of patriarchal sexism. My 17-year-old daughter is an independent, strong young adult getting ready to go out into the world on her own. She needs no protection from her father. She can take care of herself, and she has done so.

So where does this leave me?

Well, I’m staying in the church with some conditions. I will not be silent. I’ve been a supporter of LGBT rights in the church for at least 12 years, but it has mostly been silent support. This summer, when our daughter publicly came out, I used it as an opportunity to publicly declare my support for marriage equality, that people should have the right to be in a monogamous, loving relationship raising children in a stable, nurturing home regardless of the sex of their spouse.

I will remain a strong supporter of LGBT rights in the church. LGBT Mormons need safe places to practise their religion. LGBT youth need support and encouragement, not rejection and being told by their leaders and parents that they disgust them and there’s no place for them in heaven. It’s bad enough that our society rejects LGBT people. Followers of Jesus shouldn’t reject them, too.

I’m not sure how sticking up for LGBT members will work in practice with my social anxiety, but I’ll try my best.

For the last six months, since my grandmother died, I have not been sharing anything on Facebook other than status updates. That’s changing as of today. I will return to sharing articles on my feed, especially ones that are critical of the church, that challenge conventional Mormon views. People need to regularly take inventory of how they view the world around them; they need to check the tint of their glasses. I no longer care how that affects the way people view me. I’ve made Mormonism work for me and I’m at peace with my relationship with God. What others think of me changes neither of those two things.

I worship God according to the dictates of my own conscience.

No one can make us do anything we seriously don’t want to do. I can’t even say when I started to slide backwards it was such a gradual change. In all hindsight, I can honestly say it was because I took my membership and my temple recommend for granted. I believed that members sealed in the temple were sealed for all time and eternity; therefore, there is no divorce. You work things out.

I need to rewind a little bit. When we moved to the west coast 19 years ago, I left literally everyone I knew behind ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äù not counting Keith and my children ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äùparents, in-laws, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, life-long friends; the list goes on. Nevertheless, I knew we needed the move to get our heads above water. In the last contract my husband had done in Regina, he cleared $2.50 an hour. That was a little hard to handle with 5 teenagers who are always hungry. I knew even before I prayed about it that it was what we needed to do. It didn’t make the transition any easier, but I adjusted.

Move forward a few years, and our son Kim left on his mission. I had never in a million years expected to react the way I did. Two years seemed a lifetime to me. My whole life was being a mum; although, I had more bad days than good ones as a mother. Having one of my children away where I couldn’t make sure he was safe tore me. He came back home late in 1994, and I was very excited. Little did I know the next year would be worse, at least in my eyes. The kids had a great year. Four out of our five children got married in an 8-month period, and the only one who did not get married moved into his own apartment. WHAT? No, no, no, that is not supposed to happen. A mum doesn’t get empty nest syndrome that fast!

My whole purpose in life had been to be a mum. That was my role. Now it was gone. I floundered. I think that was when I started just to not think. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I just was going through the motions at this point. The following year, I agreed to move to Vancouver for Keith’s work. He had spent almost 10 years by this point commuting back and forth to work. It was taking its toll on him, so I told him we could move away. I figured it wouldn’t matter. The kids all had their own lives to live with their new families. The night before we moved, friends had brought over some Chinese food, as they knew everything was packed. A few bites into the dinner I could feel my mouth going numb. I asked them if they had checked if there was MSG in the food, and they said yes and that there was none; however, I knew there had to have been. I went to get my epi-pen. I had forgotten to refill it, so we went to emergency. I told them what was happening and needed epinephrine. They gave me a shot, but it never helped. They could tell my heart rate was racing, so they hooked me up to a heart monitor. The rate was climbing over 150 at this point, but it kept climbing. Keith said he was just going to out side for a second to call someone to come give me a blessing. He was gone for only a minute, but when he came in, he saw the heart rate at 255 and knew I was going. Last thing I remember was his yelling for some help, and the monitor doing a flat beep before the darkness took over.

Obviously, seeing as how I am sitting here typing this, they brought me back. Eventually, I asked what had happened and that I didn’t understand why the epi had not worked. The nurse said they hadn’t given it to me. She said the first 2 they gave me was Benadryl! WHAT! ?¢‚Ǩ?ìI told you guys when I checked in what I needed.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù She said we always get people in here who say that for the high they get with it. ?¢‚Ǩ?ìDo I look like someone that needed a fix??¢‚Ǩ¬ù I told them Benadryl actually intensifies the effect of MSG for me, and they had actually made things worse. ?¢‚Ǩ?ìOops, sorry.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù Idiots.

We finally moved, but it took 3 weeks before I would go to bed to sleep at night. I was convinced I would not wake up. I would doze sitting straight up on the couch or in the armchair, but I wouldn’t lie down. We would go to church, but I really felt like an outsider. People used to call the ward the Nearly Dead/Newlywed ward as there were many university students living in the area, as well as several nursing homes. I told the Primary president that if anyone ever needed a sub ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äù even at last minute ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äù they could call me. I never received a calling in the 4 years we were there. No home teachers, no visiting teachers. Coming from a very strong ward made this very disheartening. Had I not already been in bad emotional shape, I don’t think that would have affected me as much as it did.

I knew I had to do something. I missed our kids so much. Our one son moved to Alberta so he could go to university. Another son moved his family to the Kamloops area. We hardly ever saw the other kids. Then another son moved his family back to Saskatchewan. A little chunk kept falling off my heart. I just kept shrugging it off, telling myself that we all had to do what we had to do to survive. Just as we had moved away from our families, they had to as well. I took a course in hospitality just to keep busy. I had always wanted to work in a hotel. I flew through the course, and convinced one of the downtown hotels to take me on as free labour over the summer. If they were happy with my service at the end of the summer, they could hire me; if they weren’t, they could let me go and they wouldn’t have lost anything.

I lasted one week, then was told in a meeting that I was very good. Unfortunately, they actually had no position for me, but one of their sister hotels at the airport had just opened up a month before and they were having a hard time staffing it. He said it would give me a leg up in the aspect of promotions. So off I went. I was hired there, and in one year received 3 promotions. As with any new employee, the last one hired gets all the weekend, holiday, and night shifts. It was no big deal; nothing was happening at church, and I was just glad to be busy.

Then I got sick again. I was in and out of the doctors, and they couldn’t figure it out. They finally hospitalized me and 3 weeks later, I was getting worse. Keith had been there one night when the specialist came in with the latest test results saying they still had no way of knowing what was wrong, but basically every organ was shutting down and we needed to talk about what we wanted to do. He thought that they should send me home, so I could be with my family. Keith was beside himself. He is a fixer and he couldn’t fix this. The next morning I was sitting up trying to get some dry toast down and started being sick to my stomach. The nurses came rushing in to see dark black “coffee grounds” coming up all over the place. They called in my doctor, who was actually on her way to see me. She just asked if I had eaten anything, so I told her some dry toast. She started questioning my eating habits, and she said, ?¢‚Ǩ?ìI think you have a severe gluten allergy.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù I said, ?¢‚Ǩ?ìI have eaten things with wheat in all my life I never had a problem before.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù She said, ?¢‚Ǩ?ìThat happens at times.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù She told me to read labels and to diligently not eat anything with gluten in it. A week later, I was home and doing much better, so I went back to work.

This meant I saw even less of our children and grandchildren. I managed to stay in Vancouver for 4 very long years before Keith finally noticed I was so unhappy. We were coming into Surrey on a Saturday and going to our daughter?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s to visit. As we drove by, we saw a sign saying they had condos for rent, so we went in just to see and walked away with one in tow. It was a 5-minute walk to our daughters and I couldn’t have been happier.

By this time, I had been promoted to the position of controller, which is just below general manager. I was in different social circles then was “normal” or to which I was accustomed. I was attending seminars in Montreal, Toronto and New York; life in the fast lane on the way to a head first crash. Then my mother-in-law past away followed 2 months later by my only sister. Everything boiled into one big mess. I looked back to the day we had moved to Vancouver, saw my unhappiness, 4 of my 5 children were inactive at this point and we had 2 grandchildren over 9 years old. I knew that as a mother, I had really let my children down. I realized that just because they had moved away did not mean that I was less of a mother. Shortly after we moved to our new home, we were assigned a home teacher we knew from before. Keith and he were very close. He never questioned us as to why we weren’t coming to church, but he diligently came out for a year before he moved away. I was assigned a visiting teacher who loved me unconditionally. She was very careful not to tread on my toes, always asking if it was ok to end with a prayer or to give a message. One day, the message was on how if parents aren’t living up to the responsibilities of raising their children in the gospel, it was the responsibilities of the grandparents. I knew in my heart of hearts what I needed to do.

I spoke to Keith and told him what I wanted to do. I thought for sure I would have had to do it alone, but he did not hesitate. He said, ?¢‚Ǩ?ìWe are in this together for better for worse,?¢‚Ǩ¬ù so we made an appointment with the bishop. We met with him and it was like verbal diarrhoea out of my mouth. Every little thing I thought/knew I had “done wrong” came out. I talked for a long time. With every minute going by, it was a bigger relief on my shoulders. We then had to meet with the bishopric. After much praying and fasting on all our parts, the decision came down to a year disfellowshipment for both of us, which included losing our temple recommends. We hadn’t renewed them in a long time, but it was because we chose not to. Now we could not. That was when it hit me. That was when I realized I had taken my membership for granted. I had taken my testimony for granted. I knew then that I had been wrong in doing that. I promised Heavenly Father and the priesthood holders with whom we met that I would work at regaining my membership with everything I had.

I kept getting sicker though physically, which was draining me. In all the years we had been members, no one had ever given me a blessing other than Keith. Others had participated in ones with him, but I had never had one without him. He kept saying that he would get someone to give me one. ?¢‚Ǩ?ìNo sorry. It will wait until you get your priesthood back.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù They finally sent me to a rheumatologist; he diagnosed me with a severe case of Fibromyalgia. Why can’t I ever have little things? My boss at work was good at bending over backwards to help me out. He took one of the hotel rooms out of inventory, so when I needed a nap I could go lie down. He got me a laptop, so I could come in for only half days and do the rest of my work from home. Nevertheless, it was a time-consuming job, and I knew it wasn’t fair to him. My spine was also continuing its deterioration and the pain became constant from that.

The doctor and specialist finally convinced me to leave work. They also said I needed to move out of the apartment we had as it had too many stairs. We were able to find one that was just in the building across the driveway and was all on the ground floor, so we moved. Physically, I wasn’t getting better, but spiritually I was. I attended every Sacrament meeting. I couldn’t sit for longer than that, but I did all that I could. All of a sudden, we noticed our son-in-law coming to church, and he would phone to see if he could catch a ride with us. Then it was him and one of the kids; then a couple more of the kids. Then our daughter became pregnant, and all of a sudden she was coming back to church.

Although our disfellowshipment was for a year, we barely made it past 10 months. We met with the bishopric again, and we were told we had followed all guidelines and if we felt we were ready, they would give us our full membership back. We were both so ready! Keith gave me a comfort blessing that night. I knew I would never put myself in a position ever again where I would be without the protection of my temple recommend. Would it have been just as easy to walk away had we not lived in that ward, and if we would have had home and visiting teachers? Who knows? An idle mind is a devil’s workshop . . . or something like that. We are all in control of our actions. I think when I hear someone say she left the church because someone offended her, I think to myself, ?¢‚Ǩ?ìThat is just an excuse.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù The gospel is perfect, members are human beings, and things will be said and done that will make you go hmmmm and irritate you. The way I look at it is, the second I move into a glass house, then I can start with the stones. Until then, I am going to work my very best to never be without my privileges and blessings. Because that is what my temple recommend and membership is to me now. A privilege and a blessing.

I have had a few experiences in my life that have shaped my understanding of the gospel and the church. These key experiences have shaped the small testimony that I have and I feel like there isnâ€t anything that could ever change my understanding of those experiences, or what they taught me afterwards.

When I was on my mission, I had what I call a “Negative Spiritual Experience”. Not that the Holy Ghost gave me a negative experience, but it was something that Iâ€m fairly convinced was adversarial in nature. This experience, for the first time in my life, caused me to actually fear the gospel and gave me an understanding of what is at stake in the spiritual war we find ourselves in. It took me a very long time to overcome this experience. When I finally did, I was able to finish my full-time mission and I found myself firmly on “The Lordâ€s Side” of a line that had been drawn for me in the spiritual sand. From this experience, I learned how real the adversary is and the extent and limits of his power.

Another experience I had involved giving a blessing. As I walked into the situation, I quickly came to realize that the person in need of this blessing was clinically dead and the only thing keeping them alive were the various medical machines designed to keep basic body functions going. I was preparing myself to give a blessing of comfort to release this person from their pain and suffering. But it wasnâ€t meant to be.

As I placed my hands on this person’s head to seal the blessing, I saw something. It was like remembering something that happened before and you are seeing the event in your mind. Itâ€s almost like I was day dreaming for a split second. The thing is, I knew the thing I had just seen hadnâ€t happened yet, but that it would. I saw this person smiling, laughing, and playing with family members in their home. Was it a vision? I donâ€t know. But it felt like I was remembering something that hadnâ€t happened yet. I then continued with the blessing. I blessed this person that they would recover from their condition nearly 100% and that they would once again laugh and play with their family members. In the blessing, I mentioned that it would be a long and slow recovery, but that it would come in time. It did, and I have personally witnessed this person, laughing and playing with family members just as I saw.
From this experience, I have learned that God is real and that the priesthood and the authority to use it has actual power. I learned that all things are possible with God. Not that it will always turn out that way, but it can if itâ€s meant to be.

The third experience involves some callings I have had. Many of them have been leadership callings in the church. My first three leadership experiences found me as a counsellor in a presidency. They were experiences of learning from the mistakes of others. Nothing earth shattering there. We all see things we donâ€t like and decide how we would do things better if we were ever in charge. I made my list and kept it to myself in case I was ever in the position to need it.

I then had what I consider to be the best calling experience of my life. I was called to be a counsellor in the Stake Mission Presidency. I could go on for paragraphs about that experience and what it taught me. I believe I can sum up that experience by saying that it was the first time I had ever witnessed “True Presidency”. I have never seen it in any form since. I count myself blessed to have been a part of it. This leadership experience wasnâ€t about learning what not to do. It was about, in my opinion, the only way to function in a leadership role in the church.

It wasnâ€t exactly about how we lead the stake mission, although the results we had were amazing (In fact, when the order came to disband the stake mission organization, our stake presidency told us that if the letter hadnâ€t had the signature of the first presidency on it, they would have thrown it out). The workings of our presidency were as close to perfect as I can ever imagine them being. And when I see any other presidency in action, I can tell if they have it or not.

There is a personal chemistry component that contributes to true presidency. There are also procedural components as well. I learned that when inspired people make inspired callings, it all works out. There were people called by inspiration to the stake mission who failed miserably in their calling. But it was the right call and had the stamp of approval of the spirit. We also knew the doctrines related to the Stake Mission inside and out. We knew every part of the Church Handbook of Instructions that affected the Stake Mission inside and out. We lead by inspiration and followed exactly the program that the brethren had prescribed. And the parts that were left up to us, we filled in those blanks using out personal experience, opinion, counsel, and inspiration to arrive at what the Lord wanted us to do. It was fluid. It changed as the needs of the Stake Mission changed.

After that experience, when I was called to a position of president, I did everything I could to re-capture the atmosphere of true presidency. I knew it worked and I knew it was the only way to work.

Thus begins the faith crises I am currently in the middle of. Being in this presidency, and feeling secure in how things were suppose to happen, I attempted to work with my Stake Presidency and Bishop in staffing and running my organization as I knew had to be run. I had nothing but an uphill battle. It was a constant fight to follow the basic guidelines in the handbook. Never had I even thought that a priesthood leader would even consider setting aside the doctrines and principles of priesthood leadership, and ignore direct council given in the handbook.

Bishops and Stake Presidencies have changed for me a number of times since then, and I see an increasingly disregard for doctrine and handbook procedures and counsel. It has almost come to the point where I lack any faith in any of my local priesthood leaders. I cannot bring myself to follow sub-standard leadership when I know they are directly going against what they should in many cases. I feel as though I would be untrue to myself and my testimony. I have tried to talk to them and voice my concerns. In response I have been told things like “Well, as long as Iâ€m in this calling, this is the way that Iâ€m going to do it?” or “This is how the Stake President wants it done”. Nothing will ever change there.

I know Godâ€s power is real, but he will let his children wander in darkness if we are unwilling to follow his counsel. I know the adversaryâ€s power is real and waiting to lead us away from the gospel at any chance he gets. I also know that he can only do this if we let him. I also know how the church organization is meant to be lead and what principles are to govern church organization. I feel as though I am torn between two choices. I can either follow my local leaders into the fringes of apostasy, or I can withdraw from them, thus alienating myself from any link to the gospel, and I just donâ€t know what to do.

My parents joined the church when I was five years old. Actually, it was just before the Saskatoon Saskatchewan District became a stake, so for the first couple of months of my Mormon experience, I attended a branch.

I grew up in the church. I was a pretty average member for most of that time. While I had siblings who blatantly rejected the church, the closest I came was a bout of apathy.

I met and dated a recent convert whose enthusiasm for the gospel rubbed off on me and changed my outlook toward the church. In fact, I believe she was directly responsible for my serving a mission.

About a year before I left on my mission, I requested that the bishop call me as a Primary teacher. He was more than willing, and I was assigned to teach the children turning eight. It was a good experience; it solidified basic gospel ideas in my mind, supplemented my own scripture study, and gave me many opportunities to attend baptisms.

The temple endowment was an interesting experience. In fact, I wrote in my journal that night that the Lord likes keeping me on my toes. It was foreshadowing in a way.

I was with my first companion for two weeks before he was transferred to be a zone leader somewhere. My next companion was an amateur scholar. He had a subscription to Sunstone and told me stories about him correcting his seminary teacher in class. Going to discussions was a treat with him.

I learned many things from him that I had never heard previously. Things like Jesus speaking as if He were God. This companion whetted my appetite for the unknown; he set me on the road for a new stage of gospel understanding.

Throughout my mission, I speculated with other missionaries on concepts and principles, using scriptures and publications to support my ideas. It was a good experience and I learned a lot.

I never served in leadership positions on my mission, but I felt it was still a successful accomplishment. It was a faith-strengthening experience and helped me develop patience.

Things were great following my mission as well. I was able to go to the temple regularly (including being able to perform ordinance on behalf of my maternal grandfather), I was married within six months, and I was called to the elders quorum presidency within the year.

Serving in the elders quorum presidency (two years as president) was an amazing spiritual experience. Many of the brethren came to me — despite my being the youngest in the quorum — for advice and blessings. I grew spiritually in that time.

About two years after my mission, I was introduced to the Internet and subsequently the LDS world of cyberspace. I found mailing lists like Scripture-L, JOSEPH, LDS-Phil, Eyring-L and others. A whole new world opened up to me, and I found many paradigms shifting.

Then I had an unusual and foreign experience. Several years ago, I found myself in a difficult situation. As a result, I was praying frequently and fervently for the Lord’s intervention. I prayed several times every day and was fasting every Sunday. Some weeks I fasted Sunday and Monday. I was extremely desperate for the Lord to intervene in this situation because I could find no way to take care of the situation myself.

After several weeks of not seeing any change in the situation, I began questioning why I was not receiving an answer to my prayer. I took inventory of my life thinking that perhaps I was living unworthily and that my sins were holding back the mercy of God. I could not find anything in my life that would have been significant for the Lord to withhold blessings.

As I kept searching for answers, a question came to my mind that I honestly never thought ever would. I started to wonder if perhaps the reason I wasn’t receiving an answer from God was because God did not exist.

My entire life was filled with teachings that told me if I ever needed anything from God, I simply had to ask. Here I was, having asked every day for several weeks, even unusually fasting frequently, and those promised answers had not come.

It was ironic in a way. I had been exposed to all sorts of odd practices, teachings and historical happenings in the early church and none of them had every prompted me to question the Church. In fact, even at this point, it was not the church I was questioning.

As my questioning of God’s existence continued, I started questioning the futility of attending church, or reading scriptures, or even praying.

One of the hardest things I ever had to do was tell Mary of what was going on in my mind. She was supportive and never critical. She encouraged me to keep going.

At the time, we were attending an Institute class. We had a good instructor, and we were discussing church history. Actually, we were specifically studying Liberty Jail. In the course of the class, we discussed D&C 121:1–2.

O God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place? How long shall thy hand be stayed, and thine eye, yea thy pure eye, behold from the eternal heavens the wrongs of thy people and of thy servants, and thine ear be penetrated with their cries?

My ears perked up. Joseph Smith — the first prophet of the restoration, one who had seen God, one who had been ministered by angels — was asking the same question I had: where was God.

Immediately to my mind came Matt 27:46:

And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

And now even Jesus, the saviour of the world, was asking the same question that had entered my mind several times. The progenitor of our faith and the source of our faith both put forth the same question to God. Both felt alone. And both came through triumphant.

At that point, the Spirit entered into me with such a force that I knew I had never felt such a thing in my entire life. My heart was touched and enlightenment came to my mind. I knew that if Joseph Smith, who underwent many trials and tribulations, and Jesus, who descended below all men, could feel alone and abandoned then I was in good company. And if they could come out triumphant, then so could I.

The situation didn’t improve for a long time, but I managed to find resources to help me manage through it. It was a very hard time and a very difficult experience. Sometimes it seemed as if I barely made it through.

It was turning point in my life. My faith was restored and actually strengthened to the point where it was likely stronger than at any other point in my life.

If I had to do it again, I would. It was a tough experience, but I came out of it with a better understanding where one’s faith must lie. The gospel seems so fundamental now.