Exponent II's Blog, page 18

Dr. Julie Hanks Steps Away from the LDS Church

It was a huge blow when Valerie Hamaker from the Latter-day Struggles Podcast announced her forced resignation. Rather than subject themselves to a disciplinary court that would have likely ended in their excommunication, Valerie and her husband Nathan chose to leave on their own terms.

It now seems that fellow therapist and Latter-day Saint, Dr. Julie Hanks, has felt forced to step away from the church.

In an Instagram Q&A story, Julie Hanks was asked if she was still active in the church. This was her response: “I’m not. After being ‘called in’ by my stake president 6 months ago, ‘warned’ about my online content, counseled that criticizing policy is apostasy, and told there have been complaints by ward members, I decided I don’t want to give away my power anymore.”

It is my understanding that both the Hamakers and Julie Hanks had been reported numerous times to their local leaders. A letter writing campaign was planned by members of the church to criticize Julie Hanks and her work, while members from her own ward expressed their concerns about her social media content to their bishop. Jacob Hansen, a popular Latter-day Saint influencer and youtuber, had personally complained about Julie Hanks to her priesthood leaders with the hopes that she would be disciplined.

Why are they doing this? Because they disagreed with her. They believe she is teaching feminist ideology that goes against the gospel.

Are they entitled to their opinion? Yes. Are they free to disagree with her, even publicly? Yes.

But is it right to go on a witch hunt with the intention to kick someone out of your community? Simply because you disagree with them?

May I ask you, dear reader, this question: is this the kind of church we want to be a part of? A church that prioritizes conformity over love? A church that can’t seem to tolerate even the slightest hint of disagreement? A church that excludes its own people simply because their beliefs aren’t identical to their own? A church that seems to fear anyone who looks, thinks, or believes differently than the status quo?

Ironically, Julie Hanks has helped numerous members continue their relationship with the LDS church. She teaches best mental health practices to assist those of us who struggle with low self worth, scrupulosity, or shame. She advocates for healthy family dynamics and for healthy spirituality. She loves and supports those both in and out of the church.

But she advocated for LGBTQ rights. And criticized the garment for being patterned after male clothing. Apparently, that was too far for her local church leaders to tolerate.

“You can think whatever you want,” she says on episode three of the Architecture of Abuse podcast. “But you just can’t say it publicly.”

I have to wonder about the amount of insecurity an institution must hold if it can’t tolerate a difference of opinion.

I have to wonder about the fear that church leaders (and apparently popular LDS influencers) must subject themselves to if they feel the need to punish those who disagree.

And yet, Julie Hanks is handling the situation with grace. She understands that those in leadership are doing the best they can. She also assures us that her work will not change, and she will continue to support individuals in making the best decisions for their lives, even if that means they stay in the church.

Because Julie Hanks practices what she preaches; differentiation of self and unconditional love.

I can’t bring myself to say the same about the church; a church that professes Jesus’ name in its title and yet behaves so much like His enemies: stoning perceived sinners, banishing those who believe differently, obsessing over the letter of the law instead of the heart of the law.

With another therapist gone, this abuse of power seems destined to repeat itself. Julie Hanks joins a long line of therapists, feminists, historians, and intellectuals who have been pushed out of the church.

And we aren’t better off for it.

I will give credit where credit is due. If the church wants conformity, they’re doing an awfully good job at it.

I must express my personal thanks to Julie Hanks. I have followed her content for years. She has not only helped me understand spirituality on a healthier level, but has also provided sound and practical advice for how to handle conflict within my own personal relationships. Her wisdom within a Latter-day Saint context is unparalleled.

I stand with Dr. Julie Hanks. I grieve over the treatment that she has endured.

Nobody should have to experience the pain of being ostracized by their own community. Especially when they have devoted so much of their time and talents to helping that very community to heal and grow.

While some faithful influencers insist that nuanced folks are needed in the church, and Uchtdorf pleads to “Come, join with us,” we’re left scratching our heads and asking the question: How?

How can we when we have witnessed the nonchalant dismissal of some of the best of the best of our community?

How can we when we’ve personally been tossed out? Bullied out of our own communities? Asked to keep silent?

Because all those who find themselves in a place of nuance are slowly being pushed until there is no more room left for them in the pews.

What an empty, sad church that will turn out to be.

I fear that fate has already been realized.

The Newest Superman is a foil to Joseph Smith, and Reminds me of Nuanced and Post-Mormons

Spoiler warning: This post contains some spoilers for Superman (2025). You’re advised to watch first!

“Who knows how large his secret harem is already?” Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult) asks about Clark Kent (David Corenswet) in Superman (2025). It’s a strange line I didn’t expect to hear last night when I went to the movies. It grabbed my attention, inviting me to look at the writing through a Mormon lens. Luthor has just leaked information that even Clark didn’t know about himself. By breaking into Clark’s secret base in Norway, and employing the skills of meta-human villainess “the Engineer,” he hacks into Clark’s personal IT system. Luthor discovers, translates and publicly broadcasts part of a video message from Clark’s alien parents that Clark has never managed to access himself.

Clark has only ever heard the first half, a simple message explaining that they love their son and sent him to earth because they felt he could do the most good there. This brief clip serves as a soothing personal mantra he listens to when injured and discouraged. 

It turns out that his parents actually went on to encourage him to “take many wives,” spread his elite alien seed, and install himself as a powerful ruler on earth.

News channels spread word that Superman’s real purpose is to harm and dominate. His already shaky public approval plummets. Antagonists and past fans use hashtags such as #secretharem, and the discovery launches Clark into a painful identity crisis. 

The audience has no reason to think the recovered message isn’t legit. Luthor assures a fellow villain he’s presumably honest with that the message is no fake. News casters claims linguistic experts have verified the translation.

At home on the farm of his adoptive parents after a bad injury, Clark says something along the lines of I don’t know who I am anymore. 

His situation reminds me of Joseph Smith’s, who believed he received messages from the heavens (considering his worldview, from heavenly parents) that required him to take many wives. Despite partial ambivalence, he obeyed these instructions, eventually illegally and secretly marrying around 35 women. He literally did form a kind of secret harem for himself, and he did have sex with many of these women. He also spread religiously-motivated plural marriage practices to his followers.

Joseph went along with his alien parents’ imperialistic schemes. He chose this despite the fact that it deeply hurt others and changed their lives in ways they didn’t want, especially his first wife Emma, the additional women he formed relationships with, and the men he pushed into practicing polyandry with him.

For Clark, it’s not even a question whether he’d be interested in following through with the morally questionable elements of his parents’ plan. His concern is whether these parents were actually ever good or worth listening to. This makes this film version of Clark an interesting foil to Joseph Smith. His alien parents’ less than benevolent philosophy make Clark throw the whole basis for his life into crisis, even though it doesn’t lead him to justify taking advantage of others.

I wish that Joseph Smith had asked himself and God the kinds of questions Clark ponders–if my heavenly parents are asking me to do bad and controlling things, what does this say about them? Can I trust them? Are they worth venerating and listening to? Can I trust this message, or is it a deception? Am I actually pure hearted and well-intended, or is something wrong with me, do I need to change course? If he had, I think he would have corrected himself and would not have left us with the still-burning dumpster fire Mormon plural marriage doctrines we’ve inherited.

Clark could easily choose to start obeying his parents’ instructions to take advantage of people. He has movie star looks, virtual invincibility, super strength, and capabilities most others simply can’t have. He could easily date and impregnate multiple women at once, accumulate wealth, and in general set himself up as an alpha male at the top of the world’s hierarchy.

But his heart seems to be pretty pure and emotionally healthy. He doesn’t crave wealth and wouldn’t hurt a fly. He cares more about saving squirrels, getting his cousin’s dog out of prison, and spending time grounding himself at his adoptive parents’ farm than getting attention from others. He doesn’t even spend time getting dopamine hits through the comments and likes of adoring fans online.

He also seems to recognize that relationships worth having are real, gritty and challenging, not just about sex, personal fantasies, power, or, heaven forbid, raising up seed unto yourself. He is willing to work it out with Lois and listen to her concerns even though their intuitions and values are a little different. He doesn’t reduce her to an object or a pawn. 

Clark is a healthy person who doesn’t have the kinds of emotional issues that lead to that kind of disordered and selfish behavior. He grew up in a loving attentive home where he felt really wanted and had a good community and wasn’t taught to prioritize material things or to objectify others. He has a strong sense of worth, and isn’t haunted by shame. (As a side note, I feel a lot of compassion for people who deal with the emotional wounds or sexual brokenness that can lead to strange behaviors like Joseph Smith’s. It is confusing, painful and rough).

The one who is living as if he is following Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van’s dominance-oriented Kryptonian philosophy is actually Lex Luthor. Lex dates many women and treats them like crap. One girlfriend wrote a negative blog post about him, so he imprisoned her in a pocket dimension, leaving her to perish. When another girlfriend sends selfies to another man, he pulls her by the hair out of the closet she’s hiding in and does the same to her. He admits jealousy and desires for power are his defining character traits. He uses his immense wealth and tech genius to acquire enormous political power for the sake of personal gain and global importance. (In the film, his character appears to parallel Elon Musk and the despicable power-hungry president of a foreign nation allied with him resembles Trump in my opinion, someone should write about this!)

The struggle Clark does face, his identity crisis, reminds of the experiences of nuanced Mormons and post-Mormons. We started out believing that the Church was deeply benevolent and motivated out of love and desires to help the world. But then, we realize it is just as flawed, fumbling, and ineffective as many of the other large institutions (secular and spiritual), and that it asks us to do things that are not truly loving or good to ourselves and others. We essence, realize there is a second and not-so-great part of the Church’s message to us.

I had one such moment of recognition last spring when my stake president taught at a conference that we shouldn’t trust our own moral instincts, voices or writers online, or academic research when forming our perspectives on difficult issues. Instead, we should trust the voices of the General Authorities, whom, we were assured, are not at all out of touch. This messaging seemed to come straight from the desk of Pres. Oaks. Hearing it was like getting the second half of Clark’s message. Any therapist will tell you it is harmful and spiritually abusive to teach people to not trust themselves or external sources such as university research.

There are countless topics we could discuss here about the things the Church has done or expected of us that we have come to recognize as oppressive or abusive rather than truly loving, spiritual or divine. The conditions in which the Church expects us to raise our kids. Its inflexible platforms on complex and sensitive social issues that impact us personally. Or its recently increased emphasis on institutional loyalty, ideological purity and temples at the cost of investing in community and outward facing service. 

We nuanced and post-Mormons know how Clark feels. Who am I? Are my roots actually good? Was I tasked with a purpose I actually believe in? What makes me who I am? Can I trust myself?

He has to hold contraries– his parents seem to sincerely want him to do great good on earth by helping people, but they also wanted him to assert a supposed right to exploit others and gain dominance.

We hold comparable contradictions in many cases– the Church and the Mormon tradition made us who we are to some degree, gave us a sense of belonging and identity. We thought our purpose was so pure, so good, even unquestionably divine. And then things got more complicated. We realized things like the fact that early Saints greatly harmed Native American communities. That Joseph Smith had a secret personal life that was a huge mess. Or that the Church doesn’t actually act as if it cares about us as individuals, even about our children. 

And both these things are true at once: the Church has been a source of great goodness to us, possibly even a way we’ve felt very close to God at times, and it is also a self-focused hegemony with major blind spots and corrupt traditions. 

Increasing numbers of Church members hold two contradictions relevant to this post: Joseph’s Smith’s plural marriage teachings and practices were uninspired, selfish and wrong, and it is still possible that he had genuine encounters with God that brought good into the world. As plural marriage doctrines are failing to stand the test of time, members have to hold these two things inside of them with care if they want to hold onto LDS faith. It’s not comfortable or fun, but it leads to personal growth and increased nuance, independence and maturity. That is what happens when we are willing to hold contraries together without deciding things are simple–all good or all bad.

Clark’s adoptive dad (Jonathan Kent) assures him that our personal choices and chosen values matter much more than inherited narratives or identities. There is no need to adopt values others try to task us with that we discern as wrong, however powerful these people are or however important their relationship to us. At the end of the film, we see Clark is leaning more into his relationship with his supportive, humble adoptive parents. He has replaced his habit of watching his alien parents’ recording with a montage of clips of Martha and Jonathan playing with him as a young child. There might be parallels for us here. Personally, Mormonism has always meant the most to me when it has helped foster creativity, love, and inspiration in my relationships with people immediately around me. The part of it I like most is not lofty or abstract.

Our Mormon heritage matters. We can’t just delete it from ourselves, and it can inform good values and insights in our lives however our spiritual worldviews change. But the LDS Church and faith tradition ultimately do not define us and cannot take credit for all we become. They gives us some interesting building blocks we respond to and use to build our own values and beliefs. But they do not determine how our spirituality, religious perspectives, values, or personal paths develop. That is up to us.

The photo is a press release from Warner Bros. featuring NICHOLAS HOULT as Lex Luthor and DAVID CORENSWET as Superman in Warner Bros. Pictures’ “SUPERMAN,”

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Why LDS Women Should Control the Money of the Church

Five days before she died, brilliant LDS scholar Dr. Melissa Inouye gave a remarkable interview in which she described how women can be better included in the decision-making of the Church regarding money. In response to the question, “What is your wildest dream for Mormonism?” she said:

“We [LDS women] have huge potential to change the world because of the financial resources, and, connected to that, the global logistical and administrative networks that we have. And, connected to that, the local, on-the-ground manpower and womenpower that we have.

“We could do so much good if [the women’s organization] Relief Society, for example, were in charge of distributing our humanitarian aid and could coordinate those local projects in their areas. Or if, for example, to preserve some sort of complementarian difference but to make sure that women had significant power, if men were in charge of like the sacerdotal priesthood — you know, call the men for the ordinances type things — and women were in charge of the finances, then we would have a true kind of codependent relationship.

“If you wanted money for the upcoming Young Men’s camp trip, you would go to the Relief Society president, and she would check the books.”

I agree with Melissa. Women should oversee the church’s financial resources. Many women have made significant sacrifices to pay tithes and offerings that fund the Church, and they deserve the right to administer those funds. Until 1978, the LDS General Relief Society Presidency controlled its budget and also administered the humanitarian aid of the Church. Emmeline Wells was tasked by Brigham Young in 1876 to issue a call for LDS women to save wheat, and she immediately wrote an editorial in the Exponent magazine to do just that. Women responded, and the General LDS female presidency used the wheat to help starving folks during wars and famines for 102 years afterward.

Today, LDS Charities, the Church’s humanitarian organization, funds the church’s charitable donations. Since fast offerings primarily help LDS members, they do not qualify as humanitarian work, which is given without regard to one’s religious affiliation. I agree with Melissa that LDS women should oversee this fund, and also suggest that at least 10% of Church tithing income (about $3 billion) be spent on humanitarian work, such as feeding starving babies, bringing life-saving medicines to the sick, and providing schools and clean water to those without either. The LDS Church would be a light to the world if it enlisted the help of missionaries and Relief Society presidencies to do this, coordinating the work with priesthood and civic leaders. Countless lives would be preserved, and countless others could access the education and healthcare necessary to support and nurture their families.

On a ward level, women could serve as ward clerks and oversee ward budgets. My mother did years ago, and many women are well-qualified for that. Perhaps paid custodial care would be reinstated if women controlled global church finances.

The following are some ways the LDS Church could use its vast human and financial resources to help those in need:

Relief Society presidencies could be trained in simple methods that identify childhood malnutrition and then provide nutrition for starving children.  Missionaries and Relief Society leaders could also teach classes in nutritional education and health practices that combat malnourishment.
The General Relief Society Presidency could coordinate with wards and stakes to produce and distribute nutritional supplements for children to reduce wasting, the lack of brain and body development in starving babies and children.
Ward Relief Society leaders could identify humanitarian needs in their area and then coordinate with their local community and religious leaders to identify and implement solutions. These solutions could range from building and supporting medical clinics and schools to digging and maintaining wells and operating food distribution centers in congregations that lack the resources to feed and care for their malnourished members and neighbors.
LDS missionaries in impoverished areas could devote more of their time to humanitarian service. More people would be receptive to a gospel message if they were not starving or lacked clean water. And, more people would want to join a church that showed compassion to living people rather than obsessed over dead ones.
The current LDS teaching of male leaders for starving folks to pay tithing should be replaced with a female-executed policy that no one in an LDS congregation starves.
As more people in the world are forcibly displaced as a result of persecution, conflict, or violence, LDS women could lead out in helping refugees, immigrants, the homeless, and the sick with the critical needs of housing, shelter, food, clothing, health care, and education.
Female LDS leaders could focus more LDS resources, time, and attention on caring for the living than serving the dead. We have all eternity to perform temple work for the dead. Meanwhile, every ten seconds, a child dies from hunger.
The LDS Church, under female-controlled financial leadership, could become a world humanitarian leader.  The church’s substantial expenditures on missionary efforts might be better spent on coordinated humanitarian work, which would enhance missionary work as people notice the church following Jesus–and not corporate interests.
If women in leadership prioritized assisting those in need to the same extent that men in leadership concentrate on constructing temples, the Church would start to realize the mission that Jesus designated for his followers: to nourish the hungry, provide water for the thirsty, welcome refugees, clothe the naked, tend to the sick, and visit individuals in prisons.
LDS scripture condemns churches for refusing to help those who suffer: “For behold, ye do love money and your substance, and your fine apparel, and the adorning of your churches, more than ye love the poor and the needy, the sick and the afflicted (Mormon 8: 32). We cannot, as a church, claim to follow Jesus and then turn our backs on those who are suffering in our midst. And, as Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

If Jesus were to visit the Church,  He would ask, “What have you done to help those in need?” Not, “How many hundreds of billions of dollars have you amassed in the stock market and high-end real estate?”

LDS Scripture defines Zion as folks of one heart and one mind, with no poor among them. As some countries reduce their humanitarian giving, the LDS Church could step forward and do more to help those who suffer, which is what the Savior did. While male leadership seems to wait for the Savior’s coming to create Zion, women leaders could begin today.

I will end with the powerful words of Melissa Inouye:

“Christ is here, among us. Turn your eyes from heaven and behold your fellow beings who beat their breasts. Let your hearts be broken but not afraid… Weep with those in pain. Stop to tend fellow travelers by the wayside.”

Thank you, Melissa, for your words, your life, and your example.

 

Guest Post: Road to Emmaus

Guest post by Kate

Sitting in Relief Society, the talk turns to Luke 24:13-35 and the two disciples who walked with Jesus after his resurrection and knew him not.

“This doesn’t make sense,” says Sister Brown. “They really couldn’t be disciples if they didn’t recognize him!”

“Yeah,” says Sister Green. No one who walked with the Savor would fail to recognize him. They would know his eyes, his voice, his face—”

The teacher rallies. “The scriptures say, ‘their eyes were holden.’ I looked it up but couldn’t find a definition for holden. Anyone know?”

I pick up my phone and start searching. The King James Version mentions holden and the New King James Version uses restrained. English Standard Version says kept from recognizing. I catch the teacher’s eye and say, “Basically, holden in this context means they were prevented from recognizing Jesus. It’s not clear why—whether Jesus hid himself from them or if they were unable to recognize him because—”

“It’s a warning, of course,” interrupts Sister Green. “After Jesus died, everybody went back to their jobs, their old ways of life. They forgot about Jesus, so they didn’t recognize him.”

“Oh. That makes sense,” says Sister Blue. “Like these supposed disciples, we’re in danger of forgetting Christ to the point of not recognizing him when he walks with us. We must keep him in the front of our minds at all times.”

“Yes!” says Sister Green. “We must not let the world distract us so that we can’t see Christ.”

“So many distractions!” says Sister Brown. “Like social media!”

“We can’t see Christ right in front of us if we’re looking at Facebook all the time,” says Sister Blue.

As the conversation continues, I read the passages and think about the disciples on the hot, dusty road, the grit grinding between leather laces and delicate flesh. Their grief lies heavy like a wool shroud in summer, each breath catching in their chests and burning with the taste of salt in the back of their throats.

They are grieving the loss of a dear friend and rabbi—the same unfathomable loss as the death of a beloved child, parent, or spouse—a man murdered by synagogue leaders and Roman overlords. The life they’d planned—a glorious future with Israel restored—now obliterated.

Compounding to loss is soul-crushing questioning of why and if they’d wasted years of their lives following a dream. How could they have been both so sure and so wrong? And what are they to do now? The tomb was empty. Their rabbi had not even been allowed to rest in peace.

How did they manage to take a single step?

Then a balm, the kindness of a stranger who asked about their troubles and listened as they emptied their hearts. A stranger who mourned with them. A stranger who brought comfort and peace by walking with them in their pain.

How different would that experience have been if instead of processing their complex feelings, their feelings had been bypassed, negated even, with the savior immediately showing himself?

Would they have felt foolish?

Rebuked?

Less than or wanting?

I don’t know, but I wonder.

And I do know whatever the reason their eyes were holden, it was purposeful.

Is this what Christ does for me? Does he break bread with me, unseen but there, listening as my heartbreaks and disillusions pour out like angry bees from a hive? Is he walking with me down church halls as I stomp and kick against stones of unfairness and patriarchy?

Is processing the pain as important as relieving it?

Did purging the sorrow make the message that Christ lives more joyful? Maybe more real?

Will honey be sweeter after the storm has passed, when there is time and space to dip fresh bread and simply breathe?

The teacher asks, “What are we to take from this?”

“It’s obvious,” says Sister Green. “Christ never hides his face from us. It’s the work of adversary to think so.”

“Yeah,” says Sister Blue. “This is a warning to always keep Christ in the forefront. We need to stay away from distractions.”

“Right. Also, Christ’s true disciples always know him,” says Sister Green.

I slip my phone back into my purse.

“Thank you,” says the teacher. “Moving on.”

Kate loves chocolate, books, and international travel. She hates laundry and doing her taxes. You can find her on the back row in Relief Society playing Candy Crush.

Guest Post: This Isn’t The Second Coming—You Have to Learn to Cope

Guest Post by Emily Roberts

Photo by Noel Wan on Unsplash

The second coming isn’t nigh—

you have to learn to cope.

Jesus isn’t here to feed the masses—

you have to learn to help.

Yes, the world is heavy—dark, and dry,

but you still owe that world a debt:

for years, you waited out the pouring rain

while your brothers were soaking wet.

You may think a taste of third-world ways

is somehow the Savior’s cue…

The end of the world is not end of the world

just because now it’s happening to you.

The second coming is your idol—

your excuse for an ever-blind eye.

A way to deny the power you have

to instead, lay down and die.

The rape of the world still rages on

as it has nine times before,

They always say this is the final blow…

then we all go on once more.

Jesus sees us in our complacency—

He can see all we have yet to give.

until he descends in his cloak of red,

it’s time to lobby, march, and live!

Emily Roberts is a writer, linguist, florist, wife, and mother to her eighteen-month-old daughter. She is a graduate of BYU in Journalism with minors in Middle Eastern Studies, Creative Writing, and Ballroom Dance. Her mission in the both the world and the church is to bring about inclusion, welcome diversity, advocate for gender equality, and be a very, very loud voice.

“Pray For Rain”: Finding Miracles in the Desert

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” -The Serenity Prayer

Utah is a desert. And with drought comes heat waves, toxic air, and wildfires. This year alone, approximately 380 wildfires have scorched tens of thousands of acres of Utah land. In response, last week the governor declared a “Day of Prayer and Fasting for Rain,” calling for “divine help.” My teen daughter, ever creative, suggested that dancing through the yard with a spray bottle might be more effective than prayer.

In my experience, she might be right.

Growing up, “pray for rain” was nearly as common in my Utah Mormon sacrament meetings as “pray always.” But as I look at the expanse of asphalt gutters and paved parking lots that unnaturally funnel rain away from thirsty tree roots and dry river beds, I wonder whose prayer won’t shrivel up and die in this desert land before it evaporates into the cloudless sky and becomes rain. 

The first memory I have of prayer is one of stagnation. My best friend in preschool lost her mom’s diamond ring on my front lawn. Our little hands touched every blade of grass, searching for that ring. After a brief, serious discussion about how to do it right, we pressed our foreheads together and prayed to find the heirloom. But it was gone forever, and neither our tears nor our prayers could bring the miracle we wanted.

Another time, home alone with sickness while my family was at church, the cordless phone resting on my belly rang. I groggily answered and was hastily told to pray for my aunt, who had been rushed to the hospital. Awkwardly, I prayed for the aunt who made me ribbon necklaces with painted wooden beads. But a few minutes later, the phone rang again. My prayer hadn’t worked. 

I prayed to find my rollerblades, and I found them. I prayed not to die from a blood infection that I watched scald my skin as it spread up my arm, and I didn’t die. I prayed for my parents to return safely, and they always did. I clung to those answered prayers like a succulent’s fleshy leaves cling to moisture. 

But then I prayed for my nephew to live, and he didn’t. I prayed for my brother-in-law to heal, for doctors to work miracles; they did, but he didn’t. I begged God to let me keep my baby, but he was taken away. 

My prayers are like this desert I live in, wind-torn, burned, and cracked with drought. It rains when it rains, but mostly it doesn’t. I’m learning to live in this dry land and find beauty in xeriscaping.

I no longer hope to realign the universe with my prayers. My prayers are thankfuls now. No faith needed, only gratitude. My prayers are now filled with moments of awe that I witness in my teenagers’ lives, conversations I rehearse with people I love, and crying for the pains and stresses of this world. I pray to understand another person’s anger or hurtful words. I pray, trying to find connections between ideas and replay books in my head. Prayers, for me, now, are acceptances of what I cannot control, and wonder for this precious life.  

In my experience, life, death, and Mother Nature are untamed and immune to our prayers. Praying doesn’t influence these things one way or another. But it influences me. It helps me live a conscious life; it helps me recognize the things I can change.

A staggering 75% of the wildfires in Utah this year were caused by humans. Human choices are things we can control.  

So, Governor, instead of praying for rain, I will pray for the generosity to donate to local fire departments and for the consciousness to follow the safety guidelines in preventing accidental human fires. 

I will accept what I cannot control—the weather—and pray for the self-control to take fewer and shorter showers. I will pray for the heart to let my unnaturally grassy lawn go thirsty. I will pray for the desire to listen better to the land and plant drought-resistant plants that thrive on little to no water. I will pray to love this desert that bakes and scorches every living thing.

Ultimately, even though I do not believe in praying for rain, I will keep praying—not to change the sky, but to change myself. I will pray to live more fiercely in this dry and burning world. I will pray for wisdom to know when to act and when to accept. And I will pray with my hands, my habits, and my hose turned off. Because perhaps the miracle lies in accepting what we cannot control—and having the courage to change what we can. The miracle is in how we live—carefully rooted and resilient in a rainless desert.

Screenshot

Photo by Malachi Brooks on Unsplash

The 5 Books that Defined my Faith Expansion

I grew up in a strict LDS family. We never missed or were even late to church, we never broke the Sabbath, and we always had family home evening, prayer, and scripture study at the crack of dawn. I went to early morning seminary, attended BYU, served a mission, got married in the temple, had all the callings, etc. All my life I checked every single box a good Mormon girl was supposed to and then some. It was my whole identity.
So, how did I go from that to leaving the church about a year ago? It’s complicated. It was a long, slow process that started all the way back to at least my teens, growing up in the liberal and diverse Bay Area of northern California. Particularly over the last decade or so, struggles with infertility, mental health, motherhood, and the pandemic slowly grew the seeds of doubt that I think were always buried inside me.
Then over time, it eventually became clear it was time to leave. Honestly, the best way I can explain this gradual process is through the books I read that guided me along the path. This list is by no means exhaustive—I’ve read dozens of progressive faith books over the past five years, as well as listening to podcasts and following thought leaders on social media. But, without further ado, here are the five books which influenced me the most on my spiritual journey:

Pivot Point BooksThe Ghost of Eternal Polygamy by Carol Lynn Pearson. I read this way back in 2021, just because I happened to see an old acquaintance from BYU reading it on Goodreads. Like the majority of women in the LDS church, I’d always struggled with polygamy and was interested to see what this book would say. In short, it blew my mind. My biggest takeaway was Pearson’s declaration that she could believe in the church but not believe in polygamy—that she simply did not have to accept it as coming from God. This had never occurred to me before. I’d spent my life struggling to justify polygamy in order to conform to the church I’d been raised in, and to realize I didn’t have to anymore was absolutely liberating. This opened the door to faith expansion wide open for me, and there was no turning back.[image error]Thomas Nelson

2. Searching for Sunday by Rachel Held Evans. My first Rachel Held Evans book was actually A Year of Biblical Womanhood, but I immediately fell in love with this woman’s voice and perspective and read her entire backlist in two weeks—which is unfortunately small due to her tragic and untimely death. But I’m picking Searching for Sunday as the book that affected me the most spiritually, because of its description of Evans’ journey away from a conservative, evangelical church and the bumpy path she went on to finding a new faith home. This book gave me permission to realize my own spiritual path might be very different from what had been laid out for me as a child. I saw that this path was allowed to be winding and circuitous with patches of confusion and darkness—as long as I kept moving forward, and stayed true to myself.

University of Illinois Press

3. Mormon Enigma: Emma Hale Smith by Linda King Newell and Valeen Tippetts Avery. I read this after listening to a podcast episode on At Last She Said It about Emma Smith. It took me a solid six months to get through because the chapters on Joseph Smith’s polygamous wives were so hard for me to stomach. This book definitely changed a lot about how I viewed Joseph Smith and how much of what he did was him as a prophet vs. him as a man. In some ways I’m still unraveling this. One of the most impactful things I learned from this book was about Emma’s life after Joseph’s death. I’d heard of her remarriage to Lewis Bidamon, and of course I’d heard of the reorganized church, but only through a negative lens. The more open perspective of this book made me see how positive the end of Emma’s life actually was. Not to say she didn’t still have issues. Still, I never knew that, for example, one of the main reasons the reorganized church formed was in dissent of polygamy, not just because they thought Joseph Smith III ought to be prophet. Though Emma lied to her children about her late husband’s polygamous wives until her death, she also refused to let Joseph’s wrongs continue to mar her and her children’s lives. She created her own path for them, and that really inspired me.

Simon & Schuster

4. Jesus Feminist by Sarah Ann Bessey. I also read this book because of At Last She Said It (I owe Cynthia and Susan a lot, what can I say?), but this time because of their book club. Ironically, the reason this book changed my life is because of one measly throwaway line that I’m sure no one else would point to. Bessey stated in one section how she thought religious feminists should make a point to attend and support congregations that included women in leadership and decision-making roles. Since Bessey is a mainline Christian, switching congregations is a normal, non-religion-changing endeavor for her. As a Mormon woman, the opposite was true for me. But when I read that line, I had the strongest impression that I needed to do that—attend a church where women were ordained into leadership positions. So, a few months later, my family and I started quietly trying out other churches. This ultimately led me to stop attending the LDS church, which had not been my original plan. But sometimes God takes us in unexpected directions.

SanFran

5. If God Is Love by Philip Gulley and Jame Mulholland. I read this in a book club with the Salt Lake City Community of Christ congregation. I’ll admit that at this point I was in full deconstruction mode, with a strange mix of holdover beliefs from my years in the Mormon church and full-on doubts about whether God even existed at all. I will not claim to have come to any firm conclusions about anything or being anywhere close to done with my spiritual journey today, but I found this book so healing and beautiful. It basically preaches a doctrine of universal salvation for all humankind—whether or not they’re Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, or have no religion at all. Though I didn’t agree with everything in the book, I did find a lot I connected with that helped me redefine how I saw religion and spirituality. It’s helped me find a place in religion that doesn’t require the strict exclusivity I grew up with.

Would you add any books to this list? Let me know what books affected your spiritual journey as well.

Guest Post: When the House Burns Down

Guest Post by Brianna Bustos

Photo by Bruno Guerrero on Unsplash

The other day I watched a video of someone returning to their home after a wildfire. Everything—gone. They stood there in the ashes, looking lost. Alone. Hopeless. Homeless. And I couldn’t help but think… this is what a faith crisis feels like.

Not to minimize the devastation of a physical fire—but spiritually, emotionally, navigating religion the last few years has felt like watching my childhood home catch fire.

You don’t just walk away from something like that.

You run back in.

You try to save the memories, the meaning, the structure that held your whole world.

You use every tool, every prayer, every ounce of hope you have.

But sometimes the flames are too high. And it’s not enough.

It’s not about wanting to “sin.” Or being lazy. Or not trying hard enough.

It’s about watching the roof collapse on everything you thought would protect you. The place that was supposed to be safe from the elements.

Some people see the smoke and say, just put it out. But they don’t see how long I’ve already been fighting the fire. I’m tired. I’m dusty. I’m thirsty.

And the hardest part is—even as the flames engulf my mementos, my clothes, my photo albums-I still haven’t found it in me to walk away, despite the destruction I see right in front of my face.

I’m still standing here, in the doorway.

Sifting through the ashes, searching for what might be worth saving.

Asking myself, is there enough left to rebuild?

Can this still be home?

I don’t know yet.

But I do know this:

Not all homes are physical.

And not all fires leave visible scars.

And wherever I end up—

I want it to be a place where I can breathe without inhaling ashes. I want to feel safe. I want the ground beneath me to feel steady. I want my kids to trust the walls around them.

And if the damage proves to be too much, if the flames continue to reignite, I may be forced to call it a total loss.

Brianna grew up in Southern California before moving to Boise as a teenager. She then spent about 10 years away from Boise, attending Utah State University and spending time abroad, including living in Mexico, Argentina, and Spain, where she met her now husband. She and her husband moved back to Boise in 2018, and have since been joined by two adorable little boys. Brianna is a passionate person who enjoys just about anything she can do with the people she loves, such as cooking and sharing food with family and friends, spending time outside, and having spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen.

This Week! Join the Launch Party for the “Pride” Issue of Exponent II

Join us for our launch party for the upcoming issue of Exponent II magazine on July 10th at 6 p.m. MT / 8 p.m. ET. In this issue we explore the theme of “pride” ranging from stories of aspiring Mormon women to LGBTQ+ writing, artwork and poetry.

Register for the Zoom link at tinyurl.com/exiiparty

Agenda:

Cover revealLetter from the Editor Presentations
Writers read a portion of their work and artists discuss their piecesQ&A with contributors

Join us for a sneak peek of this outstanding issue and to honor all of our amazing writers and artists!

The feature image is a conceptual mockup with art by M. Alice Abrams, who will have an artist feature in this issue.

Guest Post: Uncomplicating Mormon Motherhood

Guest Post by Juliet Miller

Photo by Bethany Beck on Unsplash

I have a hot take on motherhood.  My hot take is that it’s really not all that complicated.

I’m not saying it isn’t messy or really hard sometimes, but think about what women say when they describe motherhood as being complicated.

“I like being a stay at home mom, but sometimes I just can’t wait to be alone.”

Or

“Being a mother is the most important thing to me, but my career feels like an essential part of who I am.”

Or

“I love my kids but I crave adult interactions.”

When we call motherhood complicated, what we are saying is that even though we enjoy it, we don’t want to devote all of our emotional, mental, and physical energy to it 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, from now until the moment we drop dead.

And that isn’t a standard we hold for anything, or anybody, else.

If you went to get ice cream with a friend, and they mentioned that mint chip was their absolute favorite, but they ended up going with the vanilla, would you say “wait a second- you just said that mint chip was your favorite, but you must have been lying because if it was really your favorite, you would choose it every single time”?

If somebody professed that they loved to paint, but wanted to take days or even weeks away from it at times, would that mean that they didn’t take their craft seriously?  Would it mean they weren’t worthy to call themselves a painter?

And if a man said that his family was the most important thing to him, but that he enjoyed his alone time, or valued his career, or wanted to play golf with his friends one weekend a month instead of being on baby duty, would anybody accuse him of not being a good father?  Would any man feel the need to apologize?  Would any of us call that complicated?

Of course not.  Because it’s not complicated.  It’s normal, it’s natural, it’s obvious…at least when an ice cream eater does it, or a painter does it, and of course, when a father does it.

But when a mother does it, it’s complicated. The only way to prove that we love motherhood is to enjoy doing it constantly.

And a “good” Mormon woman does do it constantly.

In 1987, Ezra Taft Benson gave a talk titled “to the mothers in Zion”. In it he lists ten ways that mothers should spend time with their children. I’m going to share a few of them.

First, he says to always, and he does use the word “always”, be at the crossroads- to be home whenever your child is coming or going. Whenever they leave or come home from school or from a date.  If you add that up, that’s almost every morning, almost every afternoon, and many evenings and late nights.  Oh, he also says you should be home when they bring friends over.  Thank goodness kids never do that unannounced. And you should do this whether they are “six or sixteen”.

Every morning and every night you should be having family prayer (under the direction of your husband.)  Additionally make sure you are having family home evening once a week (under the direction of your husband.) You should also be reading scriptures every day, and mealtimes should be spent together as well.

These are the things for which he gives concrete descriptions of the time to be spent engaged in each one,  but on top of that you should be spending time reading with your children and teaching your children and doing things as a family.  Oh and last of all, we’re told to take the time to truly love our children.

He concludes his talk by saying, and I quote

“ I promise you the blessings of heaven and “all that [the] Father hath” (see D&C 84:38) as you magnify the noblest calling of all—a mother in Zion.”

Take the idea that in order to truly love their children women need to spend all of their time doing it, inject the prophetic confirmation that, yes, ALL of your time is what is required, and then tie it off with the bow of “this is how you get to heaven”, and we are left with a task that feels impossible, yet is SUPPOSED to feel easy, natural and innate. And who does the woman have left to blame other than herself for this discrepancy?

It’s not complicated. It’s the patriarchy, plain and a simple.

Juliet Miller is a radical Mormon and a devout feminist. Follow her on instagram @angryfeministcookies.