Exponent II's Blog, page 43

Terrible Allies

I only know
The inconsistently virtuous
The intermittently thoughtful.
I do not know anyone whose choices
Continually align with their values.
Quite frankly,
I don’t know anyone who can manage
Goodness
Most of the time.

The people who think they are
Winning that game
(This was me)
Are telling themselves half truths
And it is only a matter of time
Before that white/straight/cis savior
Is outed as a terrible ally
A label they will
Resist and thus become
A terribler ally.
It is terribly predictable.

I know plenty of people
Who want to do good
But forget that desire
When the moment of true potential arises
And the fear takes over.
It is easy to forget to tell about the fear
In stories of virtuous disruption.
It is easy to forget that goodness
Can feel terrible in its enactment.
The truly terrible are ordinarily
Defensive of their sins
While refusing ownership of them.
How do we reconcile the gap
Between our commitment to high-mindedness
With our quotidian self interest?
What do we do
When we are always or occasionally
Terrible allies
Rarely breaking that pattern?

Our oldest stories speak
Of a man who blamed his wife
And a God who cursed her for his sake.
No solidarity there.
God authored the first injustice.
A truly terrible story of perfectly terrible allies.
Perhaps we get it from our creator,
An excuse that condemns us all.

We must abandon our commitment to the
Vanity of our own goodness and
Trade it for less glamorized versions.
Do that courageous thing
When no one important is watching
And the cost to ourselves is high.
We will challenge ourselves and our systems with our honest truths
Knowing that even when we are trying
We will do this terribly
But learn to strengthen our muscles of apology and
Relationship repair.

I Would Do Anything for God (But I Won’t Do That)

Remember when Meatloaf famously teased us with the addictive lyric, “I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that”? For years, the common question of this earworm chorus remained, “But what won’t he do? Meatloaf won’t do what for love?!”

In a 1993 VH1 Storytellers, Meatloaf solved the riddle for fans. Apparently the answer was there all along, hiding in the syntax. The line before each repeating chorus lays out what the committed lover will never do. That is ultimately:

Lie to youForget the way you feel right nowForgive myself if we don’t go all the way tonightDo it better than I do it with youStop dreaming of you every night of my lifeSee that it’s time to move onBe screwing around

The song is ultimately one of commitment between one lover promising fidelity to another who’s clearly been scorned. The promise of the song declares that love won’t require cheating, lying, being unfaithful, or leaving (mentally, emotionally, or physically). That isn’t real love and he won’t require her to endure those things in the name of love.

It seems fitting, then, that I’ve lately heard the lyric, “I would do anything for God, but I won’t do that” repeating in my head. This began after seeing the new children’s D&C curriculum released by the LDS Church, which explains how the story of polygamy is a beautiful lesson of obedience. In this story, God commands through a modern-day prophet and his followers obey. You see, they would do anything for God.

These lessons, accompanied by child-friendly drawings, absolve Latter-day Saints of any issues, questions, or lingering ick they may feel regarding polygamy. Faithful members can continue to separate themselves from that unsavory practice and ignore its sordid history. They can even act offended when comedians rely on it for an easy laugh, calling it a low, cheap joke that is irrelevant to Mormonism (ahem – I mean The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) today. Except, the LDS Church isn’t that old. And they are using polygamous stories of a man considered a modern-day prophet to teach about blind obedience in 2025.

This raises an important question most mainstream Latter-day Saints would like to side-step: If God commanded his followers to practice polygamy through a prophet today, would you obey?

The common response: That part of the restoration is fulfilled. He would never do that. Yet, people place themselves in the shoes of scripture characters, asking:

Would I decapitate Laban?Would I sacrifice Isaac?Would I have sex with my wife’s handmaiden to conceive a child?

The scriptures repeatedly require us to participate in moral bargaining sanctioned by a God who requires proof of our love and devotion. We are told of moral absolutes in one moment, then given morally ambiguous stories that require giving up those absolutes in favor of higher laws of faith and obedience. Perhaps this is why I’ve never found their stories particularly comforting or their lessons clear-cut.

Even at my most conservative and believing moments, I know this: I would do anything for God, but I won’t practice polygamy. And God should never ask me – or anyone else – to practice it.

Frankly, I don’t want to follow a God who places such high value on obedience over conscience, love, fidelity, and honesty. The polygamous stories are messy because the practice is not of God and it will never be of God. I sincerely hope my children never view polygamy as anything but an ugly blight on Mormonism. From my perspective, polygamy (practiced by my forbearers) is a strange obsession and desire for dominance over women that a few men presented as God’s command. You can’t clean it up. You can’t ignore how it negatively impacts the character of men such as Joseph Smith and Brigham Young.

As I’ve wrestled with real-life dilemmas without clear-cut answers from simple scripture stories or sanitized versions of LDS history, I feel as if I’ve had a call-out with God similar to the lovers in this song. We, of course, know that moral choices are not always as clear as they appear in this song. But I think it can still work.

While there is comfort and security in simple obedience and unwavering faith, doesn’t God want us to mature and grow in our faith? Shouldn’t faith help us truly move through the complexities of life, the moral ambiguity, and the conflicting choices by building a robust conscience, learning to think by the spirit, and by constantly developing compassion, empathy, and love?

How can we evolve in our faith if we swallow these lessons of obedience without question? Why won’t we wrestle with our history? Why won’t we disavow, even apologize for, some of it? If we allowed this, then the fear and resistance around substantial change and new questions might lesson. Perhaps, then, we’d be ready for new revelation.

I would do anything for God, but I won’t:

Ignore my conscienceGive up my integritySacrifice the mental, physical, or or emotional well-being of my childrenAccept inequality in God’s nameGo along with practices that are racist, sexist, or homophobic in God’s nameMake “The Church” synonymous with “God”Ignore Heavenly MotherDo whatever a prophet/priesthood leaders says God commandsLose the ability to hear my own conscience and moral compass because someone else says their word is God’sStop asking questionsPlace any other commandment above “love”

I would do anything for God (but I won’t do that). And He shouldn’t ask me to.

Guest Post: Losing Our Agency as We Work at BYU

by Anonymous

I am a BYU employee, but I don’t feel like I can write much without revealing too much beyond that. It’s of utmost importance to me that my identity isn’t revealed, and that I would feel this way says volumes.

I will say that after reading this article it angers me that a faculty member would buy into the idea that there are professors and staff who are actively trying to undermine students’ faith. In my very long experience with BYU staff and students, this is simply not the case. College is a time of exposure to new, uncomfortable ideas — both those learned in class and those learned outside of class. A time of growth and questioning. The open cultural age in which we live makes this even more true. Even professors whose faith is complicated, even broken, do their best to support students’ emotional wellbeing and spirituality as they confront these new ideas. They would do this even were their employment not threatened if they acted in any other way, because they value their students. To insinuate that BYU professors are somehow responsible for purposefully influencing students’ choices to distance themselves from the church ignores valid concerns these young people have with church history, leadership, and theology. It also echoes recent right-wing mistrust of higher education, with an LDS twist.

Recent requirements to perform church membership in specific ways honestly remind me of Satan’s plan to take away people’s agency. I know families who are one sympathetic bishop’s release away from disaster. I know people seriously considering career change and people who have already left. People are afraid to support their LGBTQ family publicly; I know people who have suffered career consequences for doing so. I know an employee with non-LDS family who was terrified someone would see beer cans in her garbage can and think they belonged to her. Faithful faculty members trying their best, even those who are quite orthodox, are afraid they’ll be perceived as not being quite orthodox enough. And everyone is afraid to talk about their fears with each other or their leadership, not knowing who they can trust.

Gilbert, Baughman, and others who say that employees who don’t conform should go elsewhere ignore the fact that jobs in higher education are extremely difficult to find, effectively forcing employees to perform their faith in prescribed ways — whether they agree with the policies or not — or face job loss. People end up having to choose between losing their jobs and performing in ways that feel dishonest to them. Our Heavenly Parents knew that forcing conformity results in stunted spirituality, but church education administrators seem to have missed this Sunday School lesson.

My Story of “Radical Kindness” (And Common Sense)

Guest post by Amy. Human Being. Mother of Two. Deep Thinker. Granddaughter of a Philosopher.

“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted…” – Aesop

My story of “Radical Kindness” is about “being kind to myself” in a foundational way.  Changing my narrative to be “kinder” to myself was both very, very radical (coming of age as a hyper-religious LDS female in the late 1990s), life-encompassing, and life-giving. This story is very “I-centric” because it is my story – but it is not arrogant because I literally didn’t have enough space to be concerned about myself to be actually arrogant.

I stared at my phone, dumbfounded. There, in black and white – some random individual had just passed this gem of wisdom along the internet like trash (and messages in a bottle) washed up on shore. 

“If we don’t say “Yes” authentically, we say “Yes” resentfully, and that leads to far more problems than if we’d said “No” in the first place” – Nat Lue

Saying Yes Resentfully = More Problems [I already had the laundry list of problems, no thank you].Saying Yes Authentically = Less Problems [How? Just How?]

I knew for myself, within myself, when it felt like my decisions were authentic decisions and when they were “performance” decisions foisted on me like a blackmailer’s bid for a precise, parsimonious payout to be doled out slowly, impartially, and scornfully in an inhumane transaction. 

After reading this meme, I kept a mental tally of the times I was “Performing the Yes’s” (with varying degrees of resentment) and actually “Saying Yes” because I meant it. While I didn’t have a notepad where I was busily entering tallies into a “Comedy” or a “Tragedy” column like Harold Crick did in Stranger than Fiction – I was that diligent and methodical about making observations and passing them along to myself. 

About Me:

My attention was divided like light exploding out of a prism in all directions by a job, a house, a parade of 1-2 pets at a time, a husband, 2 kids, 2 callings, some volunteer work, poorly managed postpartum anxiety, and a carpetbag of unprocessed trauma, I knew when I could say “Yes” and I could say “No” on a fundamental level.  

At the time, I was about 10 years into our marriage.  In all compassionate honesty, I was so far into burnout that the entire house should have been on fire. My husband was in a confusing and painful physical health space that required more mental health resources and creativity then he had access to, so he was burned out too.  Our oldest at 8-9 years of age was disconnected from herself, from us, and from humanity in general – and was dealing with a scope of problems we were beginning to find a framework for. Our baby was around 20 months old. 

We were in the “phew, – the worst is over – holy cow, what’s that?” cycle. We had our heads above the metaphorical waterline, but just barely and we knew it wasn’t sustainable. My immediate family was in a dynamic space of diagnostic work to figure out “What was wrong with us” which actually kicked off a chain of events more accurately labeled, “What accommodations and strength-based tactics are life-giving for us in a sustainable niche lifestyle?”. 

What Changed?

Some “Yeses” were required – people need calories that they can eat, our house needed to pass basic standards of cleanliness, I needed my job.  But I could no longer afford all the additional “Yes’s” being assigned to me because “I gave a care” and they didn’t, and it was showing. 

I immediately stopped doing the unsustainable “Performance Yes’s”. You know the ones – that one if you do “that one thing”, you immediately long for a hole to fall into, a teleportation circle to “elsewhere” and a new life in the witness protection program (not knocking it – in a sense this is a request to be protected as “someone else” actually).  I started curating my attendance to activities in the community and requesting that more information be sent my way via email then phone calls.  I started to be honest about the times when “saying Yes” would cause me personal resentment at home. I started to be more upfront about what I “could give”, what the “upper limits” of my participation budget was. 

My volunteer experience shifted from healthcare support and church callings to mock interviews and church-related service projects – and it was good:)

What Happened?

The sky didn’t fall down entirely because of my decisions. The universe didn’t collapse on itself (mostly because it wasn’t actually balanced on my shoulders – who knew?).  Some of them shifted into the “Good Enough Performance Yes’s” (like when you shove everything into a cute bin because someone is invading your house as an act of social charity and connection, and you want them to be there AND you want them to think that you aren’t a disorganized mess.  There may be recovery ice cream in your future after they leave.) Our situation had acquired enough luck, desperation, poverty, privilege, good sense, or love that my marriage survived (and eventually thrived because of) the radical compassion I applied to myself. 

There was an immediate outpouring of anger though.  I got angry at myself for “being a doormat” at times. My family got angry at me – they had gambled on me saying “Yes” in different ways for so long that they had to scramble to adapt.  I got angry at them too for feeling entitled to rely on me for physical, mental, and emotional labor without contributing. I got angry at the situation where it was more cost-effective for me to solve their problems and clean up their situations rather than assigning me a role as “mentor” to provide information and moral support in a space where they practiced solving their problems or “expert mourner” sitting with them in discomfort and suffering. Again, my situation had enough luck, desperation, poverty, privilege, good sense, or love that the physical safety and main mental safety of each family member was mostly protected. 

“And They Lived Happier-ly Ever After”

However, within weeks of starting to say “Yes” authentically, I started thinking about looking for a counselor for us because of the anger in the situation and I didn’t want to “push our luck” from a literal perspective. It took another year of sitting in an “almost healing but also self-destructing” space before we got into family counseling, and then individual counseling for the 3 main family members. We spent 4 years in that counseling space, veering away from annihilating each other and our relationships over and over again as we eased into to using different ways to access, perceive, and collaborate on each other’s narratives. 

“Saying Yes” without resentment eventually led to me demanding “Win-Win” situations where I have to “win” something for myself too. It has led to situations where I argue with my girl- children when they leave their “winnings at the table” and try to martyr themselves to prove a feminine point. My husband and I wound up creating an entirely different framework for our relationship because we both needed the “Wins” – the accommodations, compassion, and authenticity that resentful decision-making had been robbing us of.

Pro Tips:

If you are going to start this radical kindness of “Saying Yes Authentically”, stock up on food and drink staples first.  When you start to do the “emotional work” of personal reconstruction (which this a core feature of) – you need the food, possibly the ritual (if cooking is a life-sustaining/meditating ritual for you), and the relationship protection that throwing food into a situation brings (seriously, my teenager cannot argue with me nearly so well on a full belly – it’s magical). So many fights are triggered needlessly by being “hangry” that protecting yourself from that is a pretty useful short-term tactic. 

I’d also recommend using the “Tree of Contemplative Practices” to figure out what you as a person says “Yes” authentically to so that you recalibrate your time/attention/resources budget to reduce “Yes with Resentment” waste. If your family members would like it and/or can be compensated fairly for devoting attention and mental resources towards it, I’d share it with them too and start those conversations.

The Tree of Contemplative Practices

Find external support/” your tribe” for this endeavor sooner than later.  I regret not finding a professional counselor earlier than we did to help me with this.  I found a collection of memes, research, and women’s support research that acted as a north star to guide me.

*Photo by Drahomír Hugo Posteby-Mach on Unsplash

7 Reasons Biblical Pharisees Would Love Latter-day Saint Garments

Jesus Christ denounced Pharisees for wrongheaded strategies that sound eerily similar to the garments mandate of my church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS), especially in the midst of a recent retrenchment campaign by church leadership.

Adult members of the LDS Church are required to buy long underwear from the Church called garments and wear them under their clothing every day, in every climate, during virtually every activity. In 2019, church leaders quietly rolled out a kinder, gentler approach to the longstanding garment mandate, removing the requirement to wear garments “night and day” and suggesting members might “seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit” to determine how and when to wear garments.

But in Spring of 2024, church leaders made a hard U-turn on garment policy. The “day and night” language came back and “seek[ing] the guidance of the Holy Spirit” was deleted in favor of inflexible rules. President Dallin H. Oaks announced during General Conference that LDS people would be required to “wear temple garments continuously, with the only exceptions being those obviously necessary” and condemned anyone who would “take a day off to remove one’s garments.”

Much like the First Presidency’s efforts to ramp up the rules around garment-wearing, the Pharisees would “reduce religion to the observance of a multiplicity of ceremonial rules.” Enforcing a bunch of rules did not help Biblical people remember Jesus Christ, which is the stated intention of recent efforts to enforce stricter garment-wearing rules, but rather, “they were a major obstacle to the reception of Christ and the gospel by the Jewish people.” (Pharisees, Bible Dictionary, LDS Gospel Library)

7 Reasons Biblical Pharisees Would Love Latter-day Saint GarmentsPharisees wore garments as “an outward expression.”Pharisees placed burdens on people’s shoulders. Garments do that literally and figuratively.Pharisees barred people from entering the kingdom of heaven, like the garment mandate is used to bar people from entering modern temples.Pharisees created burdensome extra rules that went beyond the commandments. The LDS mandate to wear garments “day and night” is an extra rule never mentioned in temple ceremonies.Pharisees took advantage of women in poverty. The financial burden of garment compliance also disparately affects women.Pharisees really liked to be in charge of other people. Through the garment mandate, LDS leaders demand authority over some of the most intimate and private aspects of life.Pharisees focused on the wrong things. Likewise, focusing on garments distracts from “weightier matters” of the gospel.Pharisees wore garments as “an outward expression.”

In the latest version of the garment statement, we are told that “wearing the garment is an outward expression of your inner commitment to follow Him.” But based on what Jesus said about the Pharisees, wearing garments to show off your religiosity outwardly is inappropriate. Jesus said of the Pharisees, “But all their works they do for to be seen of men: they make broad their phylacteries, and enlarge the borders of their garments.” (Matthew 23:5)

Jesus pointed out that displaying their religiosity by garment-wearing did not actually cause the Pharisees to be more righteous: “Even so ye also outwardly appear righteous unto men, but within ye are full of hypocrisy and iniquity.” (Matthew 23:28) Why would the modern church choose a strategy that Jesus Christ has already condemned as a failure?

By the way, that bit about “enlarging the borders of their garments” particularly bites for short women. There are recurring reports of church garment designers lengthening petite garments, possibly motivated by a desire to thwart tall women from getting away with wearing stylish shorts by buying petites but simultaneously making garment-wearing even harder for short women, who find themselves wearing ever longer “petite” garments that fall well past their knees.

Pharisees placed burdens on people’s shoulders. Garments do that literally and figuratively.

Jesus said the Pharisees “bind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men’s shoulders.” (Matthew 23:4)

Depending on body type, activity levels and climate, 24/7 garment-wearing can be a heavy burden for many people. And while Jesus was referring to figurative burdens Pharisees placed on people’s shoulders, it’s interesting that our modern church has a literal requirement to cover the shoulders with a bulky garment.

Pharisees barred people from entering the kingdom of heaven, like the garment mandate is used to bar people from entering modern temples.

Jesus said, “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye shut up the kingdom of heaven against men: for ye neither go in yourselves, neither suffer ye them that are entering to go in.” (Matthew 23:13)

Likewise, modern LDS church leaders have set up an enforcement system for the garment-wearing mandate that bars noncompliant LDS people from entering the temple and participating in ordinances that, according to LDS doctrine, are required to enter the kingdom of heaven.

LDS church members must report their compliance at temple recommend interviews with male priesthood leaders, a particularly distressing requirement for women, who must disclose their underwear choices to someone of the opposite sex. The temple recommend script devotes 144 words to garment compliance, compared to an average of 25 words for each other topic addressed. If the interviewer stays on script, nearly a third of the temple recommend interview is devoted to listing, explaining and enforcing rules about garments, which leads me to the next item on this list.

Pharisees created burdensome extra rules that went beyond the commandments. The LDS mandate to wear garments “day and night” is an extra rule never mentioned in temple ceremonies.

Unsatisfied with simply keeping the commandments as written in the scriptures, Pharisees “made a fence or hedge about the law by adding numerous rules” that made “the wholesome requirements of Mosaic law…burdensome.” (James E. Talmage, Jesus the Christ, chapters 6 and 15)

Jesus responded to the Pharisees’ fence laws with a targeted campaign of civil disobedience. (Matthew 12:10-13; Matthew 15:1-20; Mark 2:23-28; Luke 11:38-42; John 5:1-16) When Pharisees accused him of breaking the Sabbath because he was ignoring their rules, he said, “The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath.” (Mark 2:27)

LDS Church members are told to wear garments as part of the temple initiatory ceremony, with wording indicating that garments, like the Sabbath, are made for man: “Wear the garment throughout your life and it will be a shield and a protection to you.” How to wear garments “throughout your life” could be as open to interpretation as how to keep the Sabbath day holy. “It’s good to exercise throughout our lives, but that doesn’t mean we exercise 24/7.” (Jana Reiss, Religion News Service)

The words “day and night” do not appear anywhere in the temple ceremonies (as of the time of this writing. I hope this article does not give church leaders any ideas!) Neither do the temple ceremonies include any other rules about how and when to wear garments, but LDS church leaders have built a Pharisaical fence around garment-wearing, adding rules about garments to the temple recommend interview script, the General Handbook of church policy, General Conference talks, and church magazines.

Like the Pharisees, the LDS Church has even institutionalized an oral tradition for passing down additional unwritten rules. When church members complete the temple initiatory for the first time, they attend a learning session where temple workers speak off script about garment-wearing rules they may have heard throughout their lives. Some members never realize they are strictly obeying garment-wearing rules that do not apply to other church members who heard a different speech from a different temple worker.

By the way, whether garments are also “made for [wo]man” is more of an open question, since they are patterned after men’s underwear and may negatively impact gynecological health. Speaking of the impact of garments on women…

Pharisees took advantage of women in poverty. The financial burden of garment compliance also disparately affects women.

Jesus condemned Pharisees for taking advantage of financially vulnerable women. “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye devour widows’ houses,” he said. (Matthew 23:14)

Garment wearing is expensive for women. Most female garment wearers, unlike their male counterparts, must layer secular underwear with garments (bras to support breasts and panties to secure winged menstrual pads), so garments may more than double a woman’s total underwear budget. Garments are designed to accommodate most styles of men’s outerwear, but are incompatible with many styles of women’s clothing, so women also shoulder an additional financial burden for buying and tailoring custom clothing to cover the garment.

The LDS Church has imposed ethically questionable rules mandating that members purchase garments from a monopoly supplier, which happens to be owned by the LDS Church itself, ensuring that revenue derived from enforcing a garment mandate makes its way back into the church’s own coffers. Arguably, the monopoly may be more about controlling clothing choices than about money, but even if so, that leads me to another point Jesus made about the Pharisees.

Pharisees really liked to be in charge of other people. Through the garment mandate, LDS leaders demand authority over some of the most intimate and private aspects of life.Rabbi by Jan Styka, 1892. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Jesus chastised Pharisees for their addiction to power. He said Pharisees “love the uppermost rooms at feasts, and the chief seats in the synagogues, and greetings in the markets, and to be called of men, Rabbi, Rabbi.”(Matthew 23:6-7)

It seems like LDS church leaders love power, too, because with the 24/7 garment mandate they’re imposing their authority over some of the most intimate and private aspects of daily life. Going well beyond requiring garments as a uniform members wear during religious ceremonies in temples and churches, they extend their authority into the privacy of church members’ bedrooms by regulating daily underwear. Church leaders thus exercise authority over church members while they are asleep in their own beds or even engaging in foreplay with their spouses.

Pharisees focused on the wrong things. Likewise, focusing on garments distracts from “weightier matters” of the gospel.

According to LDS church leaders, the purpose of garments is to remind us of our temple covenants and Jesus Christ. Ironically, for many people, wearing garments all day everyday leads to health problems, psychological distress and logistic challenges, distractions that may make it harder to focus on gospel principles.

Jesus condemned Pharisees for focusing on distracting minutia instead of gospel principles. “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone. Ye blind guides, which strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel.” (Matthew 23:23-24)

In the first few months after LDS Church leaders announced intentions to strain at the gnat of garment compliance, I counted seven local church meetings where underwear was a main topic of discussion. Then I quit counting.

But hear me out, what if we remembered Jesus by actually talking about Jesus, instead of diverting worship time away from Jesus Christ and His gospel to focus on rules about underwear?

I Don’t Want Kingdoms, Thrones, or Dominions

In one of my memories of Primary, I’m around ten years old sitting in a square, windowless classroom. The teacher, Brother L, gestures with his hands in front of the brown chalkboard like he’s a Marvel superhero wielding magic.

“You young men,” he says, “will one day create earths! You’ll take matter from this and matter from that and fuse them together. You’ll have unlimited priesthood power to manipulate elements and build earths!”

I raised my hand. “What will girls get to do?”

Brother L thought about it for a moment, then said carefully, “Earths need flowers. Girls will come up with pretty things and their husbands will make it.”

Boys get all cosmic power but girls get to make eternal pinterest boards for pretty flowers. Sounds about right.

This was far from my last encounter with Mormon men and their subtle power-obsession.

As a young adult, I attended a local fireside with Elder Bednar. At the end of the Q&A meeting, we all stood as we usually would after a church meeting. A huge stake center full of 18-30 year olds did what 18-30 years olds did–we chatted. Gathered our things. Made after meeting dinner plans.

Suddenly, Elder Bednar stood and the organ postlude music cut off. He grabbed the microphone and spoke in an angry voice I’ll never forget.

“How dare you. How dare you all stand and be so noisy after an apostle of the Lord has just spoken with you and left you with his apostolic blessing.”

We were rebuked into immediate silence. He then directed us to sit back down. We rose again after he stood and filed into a quiet line to walk up to the podium and shake his hand before exiting out the back door. You could have heard a pin drop in that chapel. I’ll never forget shaking his hand and feeling a strange sense of disappointment and coldness.

Bednar clearly felt that his status and authority warranted our silence to show respect. He didn’t hesitate to wield his church-given power to admonish us for what he deemed irreverence and for daring to stand before he did. (And I’ve heard through the internet grapevine that this is a typical move for him when members or even his own wife stand before him.)

Through actions and lessons like these over a lifetime, I’ve realized that these are not isolated incidents.

In the 1840s in Nauvoo, Joseph Smith expanded not only his theology, but his kingdom. This was arguably his most fruitful period of religious and political creation. The temple ceremony, plural marriage, revelations, the Nauvoo Legion, running for president––Joseph was busy. After years of being chased from state to state, losing everything, and facing threats on his people and his person, I believe Joseph saw Nauvoo has his redemption.

The new temple rites initiated his inner circle into his loyal court. Plural marriage gave him power over families and women who would bear him posterity. The Nauvoo Legion appointed him a Lieutenant-General, the highest rank possible, held only by George Washington. The Council of Fifty declared him king of the world. Joseph even ran for president in 1844, which they believed would lead to a political kingdom of God.

It makes sense to me that after over a decade of running from the law and mobs that Joseph and many early Saints would crave some power and control over their turbulent lives. I think this was a huge motivation for his actions in Nauvoo, particularly the temple rite. Joseph’s trauma over losing and desiring so much is the bedrock for our dogmas.

At the heart of the Mormon temple rite, both then and today, is a quest for power. It’s a desire for certainty not only in personal and familial salvation, but also proof that we will ultimately triumph over earthly enemies and partake in God’s enormous power ourselves.

It’s about obtaining promises of kingdoms, thrones, powers, dominions, and principalities. It’s about becoming gods and goddesses. It’s about building new worlds and creating never-ending posterity. It’s about ruling and reigning over the house of Israel.

In short, it’s about Joseph finally getting to best the enemies and mobs that took everything from him and the Saints. It’s about men like Bednar feeling secure in their priesthood authority and control over others. It’s men like Brother L building whatever they want with their awesome power.

I’ve heard countless men in the church in both small and big ways declare their thirst for eternal power: temple sealers who go on about the promises of principalities and thrones in the sealing ceremony; bishops at the pulpit preaching about the majesty of becoming gods; Sunday school teachers lecturing on the powers of the priesthood like they’re magic.

It’s interesting to me that I’ve never once heard a woman in the church talk about getting kingdoms, thrones, and dominions like men do. I’ve never heard them wax on about bringing matter together to create a world or gleefully envisioning ruling and reigning forever. When women speak of eternal blessings, they speak of family relationships and eternal love, not kingdoms or godhood.

I don’t think that’s a coincidence. I’m not saying all Mormon men are power-hungry, but I do think that hunger is written into the DNA of our doctrine and taught to our men as acceptable. I don’t think most women engage with the Mormon power narrative in the same way because it was never designed for them.

And when I really sit back and think about it, I wouldn’t even want Joseph’s definitions of power if it was offered to me as a woman.

I don’t want the priesthood man’s ideal of eternal blessings. I don’t want kingdoms, thrones, or dominions. I have no desire to spend eternity ruling and reigning over anyone. I don’t want principalities or the ability to create earths. I’ve no interest in greatness and glory, powers and priesthoods, worlds without end.

I want to spend eternity with everyone, living equally side by side. I envision a world of beauty and personal creation that has nothing to do with superhero-like priesthood powers. I see myself in a small cottage where I love all for who they are, where we work and cry and share together. There are no kingdoms to rule or thrones to sit on. No priesthood men to build the cosmos while I design flowers. There is no hierarchy of leaders that demands my respect without earning it.

Instead, we are all sitting down in the kingdom of God together, as one.

If the Celestial Kingdom is Joseph’s fever dream of ambition and power, then maybe I don’t want it. I don’t want Bednar’s stern rules or Brother L’s small vision of creation. Instead, I set my hopes and faith on a truly equal eternity where there are no titles, no hierarchies, no separations; only Christ-like love.

Words to Live—and Quit—By (plus a GIVEAWAY!)

“It is possible to be happy even when you are miserable,” Claudia Bushman writes in her newly published autobiography, I, Claudia. I happen to agree. Why? Because as Gretchen Rubin of The Happiness Project teaches, happiness doesn’t always make you feel happy. If your general sense of happiness includes strong, healthy relationships with your children, it doesn’t mean you have to spark with joy during a 3 am feeding and diaper change. If your general sense of happiness includes good oral hygiene, it doesn’t mean you have to look forward to your next dental cleaning.

Happiness is less about the actions or feelings of a given moment, which may include many miserable experiences, but about cultivating a life aligned with your values while engaging in meaningful work and prioritizing relationships and community (and for some, faith).

In I, Claudia: The Life of Claudia Lauper Bushman in Her Own Words (2024, Kofford Books), Claudia offers several aphorisms to live—and quit—by among stories of her long and fascinating life.

“If I didn’t quit, I could never go on.” Some jobs and responsibilities must be put down to pick up others. Claudia could take on many large and significant projects partly because she put down others and learned to prioritize. I believe this aphorism is true over the course of years as well as over the course of a day or week.

One of my favorite Claudia aphorisms is, “If you keep up, you’ll never get ahead.” As a mother of several young children as she did her master’s and doctorate degrees and undertook teaching classes, publishing books, and launching projects such as Exponent II, she gave up on “keeping up” with being fashionable or having the cleanest home. I value the permission to choose to exit the race to be best in every category. Mothers can do many things at once, but we all have limited time and must choose where to put our energy. It is empowering to choose.

And for anyone who has spent any time around Claudia, her most famous and oft-repeated aphorism is, of course, “A record shall/must be kept.” I was familiar with the broad strokes of Claudia’s life from my time interviewing her and studying her role in the founding of Exponent II and her influence on Mormon feminism, but her autobiography offers stories and frank assessments of her life that I am glad to have learned. Why were there years when she would seethe with anger from the church pews while wrestling her young children? What was it like to follow her husband’s career moves as he went on to something, and she would leave her community and projects to go on to nothing? What does it take to catch a vision of something meaningful and make it happen?

Claudia has had a significant impact on Mormon feminism, Mormon women’s history, and beyond. Mark your calendars for the upcoming one-day event on Saturday, March 15, 2025, from 9 am to 9 pm, at the University of Utah Eccles Alumni House in Salt Lake City. Organized by Maxine Hanks, Caroline Kline, and Amy Hoyt, the event will honor the pioneering work of Claudia Lauper Bushman. A link to the Eventbrite free ticket request will follow shortly, as well as live steam Zoom links. More details and a full lineup will be available soon, but speakers include Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, Judy Dushku, Jana Riess, Taylor Petrey, and more!

In the meantime, enter this GIVEAWAY to win a copy of I, Claudia: The Life of Claudia Lauper Bushman in Her Own Words. Comment below for one entry, share the giveaway on social media and comment again for a second entry, and follow @exponentii_blog and @katieludlowrich on Instagram and comment again for a third entry. Enter by Friday, January 17. The winner will be randomly selected on Saturday, January 18. The winner must have a US mailing address.

A wrestle with God, and a last day

On the first Sunday of November, I went to church. Since the pandemic, after missing church for a year until the vaccine came out, I’ve gone once or twice a month, no more. My reasoning for each was, “It’s not my week.”

But this day, I had several good reasons to not go. I’d woken up two days earlier with back pain and it had gotten progressively worse in the last 24 hours. It was snowing hard when I left. It was testimony meeting, which never left me with a good feeling. But I went anyway, propelled by a need to go that I couldn’t place. To myself, I wondered if this was my last day.

Three days later, in the pre-dawn hours after the U.S. presidential election, I realized that it had been. I’d like to share with you that choice and the years-long wrestle with God that has preceded it.

Learning to trust myself

I’d woken at 2 a.m. Nov. 6 to news alerts that Trump had won. I curled up my on couch to study, then just cried and prayed—the kind of angry, emotional conversation with God that cuts through formality and politeness and is just raw, unfiltered rage. I don’t remember what preceded the realization that I could not go back to church, but in that moment, that reality was clear to me. When I said the words out loud, “I have to leave the church”—I immediately stopped crying and felt calmer.

The only words I had for that experience come from the church: revelation, inspiration, spiritual experience. After weeks of reflection and sitting with that choice, I now have others: trusting myself. Relying on my authority as an independent adult, a smart and thoughtful person and a child of God. (OK, some of the words still come from church. Since I have not left my belief in God, I’m fine with that.)

Was this the Spirit whispering to me that my choice was correct? Or was it my brain, after years of agonizing over the question, just relieved that it could finally rest? Was I just so exhausted from my Sisyphean journey of trying to reconcile the vast differences between what I saw and what I was told at church?

I don’t know, but I knew it was the right choice, one made not in a moment but through years of study, prayer, conversation, hard questions, tears and trying to imagine a future in the church and a future out of it, both of which seemed murky and frightening. My entire life I’ve been told to trust God. It took this long to realize that trusting God was not an excuse to not trust myself—that the God I know would never want me to ignore what is right and good for me.

Nobody is coming to save me

For years, I wondered why my shelf hadn’t broken. The stories of abuse of women and children, abuse of power, what tithing money was used for, the modern-day colonialism our missionary work represents, the treatment of LGBTQ members (and non-members), the lack of acknowledgement for harm done to women through polygamy and continued systemic inequality, to black people through the priesthood and temple ban, to Native American and Indigenous peoples through placement programs—all have bothered me intensely in recent years, and yet I couldn’t find it in myself to walk away. Even my experiences as a single woman who constantly heard messages, both spoken and unspoken, that I was not enough, that I did not belong, that I had failed in my purpose, didn’t make me leave. They made me angry, and they made every Sunday at church miserable and isolating. But they didn’t make me leave.

I had stopped paying tithing to the church more than two years ago after receiving my own revelation, I stopped wearing garments earlier this year, I hadn’t been to the temple in five years, I didn’t say “amen” after prayers addressed only to Heavenly Father—so, all prayers—and I listened carefully to talks and testimonies before I would say “amen” to them. I realized that I didn’t believe a majority of the words spoken from the pulpit.

Yet none of those things drove me to leave. I’ve realized since that I was trying to offload responsibility in some way—that I wanted an external factor to be the tipping point for my decision. I was waiting for The Big Bad Thing that would justify my decision—to those around me, yes, but even to myself. I knew many would still disagree with me, but I could point to The Big Bad Thing and say, “but look at that. How can I be OK with that? I had to leave.”

Abby Wambach, in a recent episode of “We Can Do Hard Things,” said it better than I can:

“There’s nobody coming to save you. … I have my experience, and I have to believe and understand my experience is holy in order to really want to take full responsibility for it because before I think I was just giving away responsibility, giving away my own life, giving away my own accountability. And there was something that shifted in me. … There is something magic in the surrender and the acceptance that nobody is coming to save us.”

There was no Big Bad Thing that broke my shelf. What came instead was that having a shelf was a choice. I didn’t have to keep those things that wounded me, that led me to question my worth, that made some people more important while telling others to be quiet. I could throw them out and fill my shelf with things that bring me joy. My shelf is filled with loving Heavenly Parents, feminism, truth and inspiration. It is filled with my morals and beliefs about the eternal value of all humans, of the Earth and her waters, trees and animals, of knowledge and learning and courage and compassion. It is filled with pictures of my dog, with mementos of my travels, with books and art and quotes from Ruth Bader Ginsburg and seven different Bible translations in four languages.

My shelf didn’t break, and neither did I. I feel whole for the first time in years. For so long I’d felt torn apart by my conflicting beliefs, by my membership in and love for an organization that did harm to me, by a church that had both beautiful, sacred ideas and ugly, destructive practices and beliefs.

Why I stayed

I have been thinking about why I held on for so long. I have mixed feelings about younger Heidi’s revelations and inspirations; it is not fair to myself to dismiss those spiritual experiences. I have had moments with divinity when I felt inspired, when I felt loved, when I felt guided and protected by a higher power. Those included moments when I decided to go on a mission and experiences on my mission, they include other leaps of faith and inspiration gained through study and prayer.

I also realize, as a member of a high-control religion, I have been taught my entire life the “correct” way to receive revelation, the feelings to look for and what they mean and that I can only trust myself and my feelings if I am doing what I’m supposed to and following the commandments. I’ve essentially been taught not to trust my true, authentic self. So it is hard, now, to know what is mine and what is the result of what I have been taught all these years.

I also held on because much of what the church purports to believe is beautiful. I love the idea of forever families. I love the existence of a God who encompasses all genders and all races, who sees and loves people for who they are, whose love is unconditional. I love the notion of an Atonement in which all sins can be forgiven. Personal revelation, agency, the knowledge of good and evil—there is so much beauty and love in these ideas. So much potential to become something more.

But the church does not always practice those things. In my experience, personal revelation is to confirm what’s been taught from the pulpit, agency has been subsumed by all the rules we must follow without question, forever families has a big “if no one breaks our rules” asterisks and forgiveness has a reprehensible “except for sexual sins which, because of prudish Great Awakening ideals, you cannot fully be forgiven from, the reminder that you’re impure will always be there” asterisk. So much harm has resulted from church teachings: the shunning of LGBTQ people, including money paid to lawyers to advocate against their rights in the highest courts; the excommunication of people who stood for something; the teachings that for years have kept women from recognizing their potential as full humans.

This has been discussed at length, but I keep coming back to Women on the Stand. Having women leaders on the stand cost nothing. It didn’t give women any additional power or authority, it didn’t give them decision-making authority, it didn’t offer additional speaking opportunities. All it did was make them more visible to their wards or stakes. And that was still too much. That is the meagerest of crumbs, and it was still too much. Other things were more important, but that one hurt. Rightly or wrongly, it felt intended to remind women of their place.

A benediction

Thank you for reading this far. Please know that I do not want to cause harm to anyone with my story. Many people who read this want to be in the church. There is nothing wrong with that; we are all on our journeys and have our own paths. So much good is found in community, and many, many people have found community in the LDS Church. What’s more, organizations are changed when people stay in them and make them better. May you find joy, inspiration, Christlike love and Christ in the church. Remember that you can trust yourself and your instincts—that Heavenly Mother and Heavenly Father trust you. I hope your voice is heard and valued, that you feel empowered to be loud, to take up space, to claim ownership of a church that is as much yours as it is any leader’s.

And those who are struggling–to stay in, to leave or anywhere in between–know that you are not alone. There is nothing wrong with you. There is community everywhere you look–here at The Exponent, the At Last She Said It podcast, the Pod Squad at We Can Do Hard Things, at the Faith Adjacent podcast. Questioning is part of your divine right. You deserve to feel safe in your relationship with divinity, not threatened or afraid. May you find the home and the peace that you seek. May you never stop seeking.

God’s Language

By Leticia Storrs

Leticia Storrs is a Uruguayan living in Salt Lake City and a first-time contributor to Exponent II.

In the beginning, was it “the Word” or “el Verbo?” (John 1:1 / Juan 1:1) Does translation enrich or diminish meaning? 

While I do not want to sound overly skeptical, I’m not entirely sure God’s language is English. It was simply the language used to describe the First Vision. But do we experience the same feelings when we encounter the First Vision or other spiritual recollections in other languages? 

As someone who deeply believes in the Gospel of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I’ve come to realize that after years of studying, reading, and listening to the Gospel in English, the semiotic, or symbolic, connections don’t always translate effectively across cultures. This isn’t just about pragmatism; it’s about how the Gospel applies to daily life. 

For example, what does a person struggling to survive in a Brazilian “morro” (a small village) hope to gain from a blessing, compared to someone praying for a Tesla in North America? 

When literally translated, a “word” isn’t the same as  a “verbo” or “verb.” A verb signifies an “action” — such as, to do, to share, to love. When we read Juan 1:1 in Spanish, the use of “verbo” helps us understand that it’s not just about passively waiting for life to offer something, but actively shaping our lives and destinies in living the Gospel. 

As a native Uruguayan who immigrated to the United States, I generally start conversations by apologizing: “Please, excuse my accent.” It’s a strong, deep accent from South America that stands out as foreign, even when I speak my native language. The way I speak is distinctly different from the Spanish accents of Central or North America. (I like to note that we’re all Americans with accents, whether we’re born near Argentina’s Perito Moreno Glacier or Alaska’s Aleutian Islands.) 

In my daily life, I don’t have time at the grocery store to explain, “I’ve worked hard to study and improve my English, and despite my accent, my comprehension is excellent.” I often feel that after about two seconds, the listener just assumes: “Oh, another foreigner who doesn’t understand…”

Language is how we internalize life and connect with our Heavenly Father. For me, it is really powerful during English ward meetings to hear prayers in different languages. As an online student in BYU Pathways, I heard opening or closing prayers in at least three languages besides English last semester. On one occasion, I couldn’t understand a single word, yet the Spirit among us was so powerful that it became a memorable moment I’ll recount for years to come. 

How do we feel when someone stands before us in a public space and begins praying in a foreign language? 

Does the Holy Spirit help us navigate such experiences? For me, the answer is sí. 

The use of language involves two parties: the one who speaks and the one who listens. Communication fails if both parties aren’t on the same wavelength. So, how can we achieve that shared connection with our brothers and sisters? It’s not merely about showcasing expertise or the spiritual gift of tongues, it’s about coming together in His name. Two thousand years ago, our Lord did this so effectively that the truth spoken in Aramaic still resonates with us today.

I boldly testify that the only way to stay aligned with God’s language frequency and follow the Gospel’s path is by faithfully walking in His ways. Following Him. 

If there’s one thing I deeply pray for as the new year begins, it’s the bond, unity, and profound connection among brothers and sisters from all walks of life, united in following Him and His teachings, beyond languages.

The comic image is from Quino, an extraordinary Argentinian cartoonist. The Church building is Iglesia en Punta del Este in Uruguay by  Sergio Arteaga on Unsplash.

Helping Youth Navigate LDS Faith and Reap Benefits from it

The feature art for this post is Saint Peter Martyr Healing the Leg of a Young Man by Antonio Vivarini, circa 1450.

In response to my post last week about the difficulties passing down LDS faith to children today, a fellow blogger invited me to think and write about practical ideas for helping kids navigate church activity and Mormon identity in light of difficulties families are facing today. If you found my recent post pessimistic and you are raising kids in the Church, this post might be for you. The last one was a criticism of the institution’s current approach, not an invitation to throw in the towel.

Having a Religious Upbringing Provides Grounding

At the university multi-faith center I work at, sometimes students who have grown up with no religious or spiritual community roots sometimes come into our office in crisis. My colleague offers one-on-one consultations focused on spiritual wellness. These young adults wonder what the deeper purpose of their efforts to learn and advance in life could be. They struggle to make meaning out of why life matters to them on a deeper level and sometimes feel depressed and/or nihilistic. They don’t know how or where to search for something to anchor themselves in, and they lack frameworks to help them work through ethical dilemmas and find peace.

Belonging to a faith tradition during our formative years often helps individuals develop a sense of connection and belonging to humanity and the world. It also helps us develop personal tools for creating meaning, a moral compass, and resilience. This seems to be the case even if we don’t stay very religious or involved as adults. A childhood moral and spiritual framework provides a springboard for developing a deeper sense of self and the values we want to live by.

As a parent, I want my kids to reap the benefits of having a religious foundation to work from while they are growing up. Even though their sense of religious identity is weaker than mine was at their age, it is still there on some level, and exposure to religion helps teens and young adults to flourish more, and to have more adaptive and resilient perspectives (see The State of Religion & Young People 2023: Exploring the Sacred). 

Here are some day-to-day things I’m trying to do to help my kids benefit from having a family faith tradition and to mitigate harm:

Teach Kids God and Spirituality are Bigger Than Our Church

I talk with my kids questions about God’s nature and existence can’t be definitively settled, whether using religious or secular frameworks. I teach them God is bigger and more complicated than the confines of our church. I talk about the value of recognizing that we don’t know all the answers to life’s big spiritual questions, that this can provide a sense of awe in life and open possibilities for us.

Model How to Foster and Benefit from Personal Spirituality

I share with them about how spiritual practices and experiences help me in my life. How they help me find peace, healing, meaning, and love. I sometimes share about spiritual experiences I have after we read the scriptures or during family home evening (my husband and I are trying to revamp these practices). Role modelling can help kids develop capacities to have and to notice spiritual experiences.

I am also teaching my kids about the powerful mental health benefits of journaling and petitionary prayer.

I talk to them about what I value most about being involved with religion. In addition to spiritual experiences, this includes hope, God’s love, community, and close friendships. I teach them that while many people seem to believe that the main benefit of being religious is knowing the truth about the world with certainty, this isn’t what’s important about religion, and this doesn’t work for a lot of people. The real benefit are community and spirituality.

Validate their Pain at Church

I validate all their complaints about church and take their side if they feel wronged. I acknowledge the Church has a lot of weaknesses and has made lots of mistakes, but I also affirm that my LDS spirituality has meant a lot to me throughout my life and continues to help me. I’m trying to convey that there aren’t simple answers about religion and that it’s something worth grappling with.

Respect that Religion is a Personal Choice

I require my kids to go to either our ward or to some other weekly community gathering of their choice. In doing this, I’m trying to teach them the value of communities of practice that can help them develop personal values and principles to live by. I tell my kids directly that they get to choose their religious path and that I will support them in it. When I used to have rigid expectations, it made things less likely they’d give faith a chance. It’s better to put relationships first. I teach them all faith traditions, including ours, have enlightened, helpful things, and more base and oppressive ideas too.

Teach Them Oppressive Policies Haven’t Lasted in the Past

I teach them that in church history, oppressive, fear-based policies do not survive or endure. Just after reading David O. McKay and the Rise of Modern Mormonism, my husband, Dennis Wendt, recently wrote, “fear and exclusion are always revealed in hindsight to be out of character with the divine mission of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” In the past, leaders have had all kinds of foolhardy policies. They antagonized working moms, communists and socialists, banned oral sex, preached against evolution, banned black members from the priesthood and the temple, excommunicated a young adult for being an anti-Nazi activist, created coercive and unequal marital systems and structures, fought politically against women’s rights movement and against gay marriage in the United States, and more. I’m hopeful that in time, current oppressive policies will go the same way as these boundary-violating episodes. The past suggests that in time, the Church will make space for queer experiences to be treated as personal mysteries for member to decide for themselves rather than something it has the right to manage. And that, in the long arc of history, it will come to treat women as equals.

I teach my kids that whenever the Church develops social practices or policies based on the premortal life, things get treacherous. The priesthood ban and polygamy were both at least partly founded on ill-conceived claims to know peoples’ statuses before they were born. Trans policies are rooted in the same pretentious soil of “we know who you were in the premortal life and what limits God wants to impose on you now.” 

Foster a Sense of Familial Mormon Identity

As a family, we engage Mormon identity in ways that help us bond. We affectionately joke about it. The Idaho potato jokes alone are endless, and while this may not directly connect my kids to God, it connects them to the LDS family and community my husband grew up in. My kids are enthusiastic about my identity as an independent-minded Mormon and things like their Dad’s creative approaches to testimony meeting. All of this helps create a sense of familial Mormon identity, which is a little different than what I had growing up, but is also actually richer in certain ways.

Normalize the Church’s Problems; Help Them See a Bigger Picture

I talk to my kids about how all world religions are facing challenges now with community engagement and learning how to navigate offering LGBTQ rights and women’s rights better. I try to normalize that such hot messes are pretty common today, and it is probably not going to be this strange or transitional forever. 

I talk to them about how Christianity itself seems to be going through some kind of big shift in how we think about God, serve, and build communities, and how there are wonderful manifestations of this in Mormon circles. In LDS letters and other circles outside the official Church, we’re talking about Jesus as the empathetic healer of our traumas and wounds rather than a blood ransom for our unworthiness. And we are focusing more on healthy spiritual development than ever before.

Correct and Reframe Teachings about Life and Suffering

I correct things that are said at Church as I decide is needed. I teach them that life is an opportunity to grow and learn to love instead of a test. That the adversity people face is due to societal problems and living in a complicated world and having fragile bodies rather than personal failings or God sending painful trials to refine us. I’m open with them about what I think and believe about tough issues like plural marriage and patriarchy.

Honesty is Fertile Ground for Resilient Faith and Spirituality

You could argue I’m doing the wrong thing in sharing some of what I honestly think about church with my kids. Having to deal with so much complexity is probably not ideal for them before adulthood. But I also realize that one reason I’m still religious is because adults in my life modelled dissenting thoughts and the capacity to criticize leaders while deeply valuing their faith throughout my childhood. I found similar ideas in George Handley’s book of essays If Truth Were a Child. His parents were open with him about how certain church policies troubled them deeply, and this seemed to open up a kind of neutral, low-pressure space that proved to be the ideal conditions for his own authentic connection with the divine to sprout and flourish. Honesty builds trust, and role modelling of mature spiritual differentiation can be powerful.

Enjoy What Authentic Hope You May Have

I hope that things could get better and have more space for a family like us in the years to come. I hope this Umbridge-like period that is especially evident in aspects of church like the CES will end just like it did in Harry Potter. I still hope that my grandkids could be raised in the church in a healthier, happier way. I even hope Church could be better and somewhat out of the wilderness/its current retrenchment by the time my kids are in graduate school. And whatever the Church does, I hope the spirituality and values I pass down will help my kids find grounding and meaning in their lives, whatever paths they decide are best for them.

Accept We Can’t Determine the Church’s Future and Set Your Honest Boundaries

I accept that my and my family’s future choices pertaining to religious practice will partly depend on the kind of direction the church takes, and that I can’t do much to control this. An LDS friend told me this week that whether he stays involved depends on how the church continues to change; right now church is really hard for him as it is for so many of us. I resonated. I admired his willingness to face current hardships with honesty and willingness to adapt, and recognized that I need to do the same thing. It’s not actually healthy or even integrous for me to have some kind of commitment to stay “no matter what.” The bonds in my family and the values I believe in are more important to me than the Church, if I need to leave, I don’t need to frame this as the end of the world or the end of my spiritual life. Mormon identity shouldn’t be what I place at the very core of who I am.

It is valuable to examine our families’ needs, limits and boundaries realistically and honestly as we face the tough issues and oppressive forces at work at Church. It’s healthy to set conditional limits and boundaries with the Church and our involvement. The Church certainly could continue to evolve in ways that will make it such that the deficits of being involved will clearly outweigh any benefits for my family or all motivation will die.  

For now, personally, I hope my kids are reaping more benefits from getting up on Sunday morning, walking to church, and watching how my ward community tries to function than they would having a chill and isolated morning at home. And I hope they are getting something out of hearing diverse church members’ voices about how they connect with God and find meaning in their lives, even if much of this doesn’t resonate with them. Even disagreement may help them build a framework for the convictions, values and spirituality they want to have themselves.

All this is not to judge those whose boundaries have already been crossed such that they are raising kids outside the church. I get that and respect it. This post is just to support parents for whom it might be helpful or inspiring. And these are just a few a my ideas, not anything definitive. I’d love to hear ideas from other parents about how they are navigating raising youth in the Church today.