A Letter to the Mormon Church
This week, I’m dedicating the majority of my creative time to a writing opportunity that came up, separate from this blog (I’ll keep you posted, if it comes to fruition). But I still wanted to execute my weekly blog post, so I rifled through the archives of my Notes app on my phone and found this treasure — a letter to the Mormon church. Some of my feelings, views, beliefs, and ideas have changed since the time I wrote this letter, but it’s a nice glimpse of where my heart was at the time. I edited it slightly, just to make it a bit easier to read.
January 25, 2018
Dear church that I love,
I want so desperately to believe in you. You brought me security and peace, comfort and direction. You brought me a truth I could work towards. A purpose to do better. You taught me to love, to extend a helping hand, to count my blessings and mourn with those who mourn. You taught me that community was better than solitude. You taught me that the Savior looks after the one, the lonely, the strange, the outcast, the one who has left.
Yet, you send me mixed messages. You often turn your back on the strange. If they sin, you close your doors. You change your rules on what is and isn’t sin. You change your rules on who is and is not accepted. You don’t allow me to think freely, causing me to doubt and hate myself whenever a thought that doesn’t align with your thoughts creeps in. You shame me for having questions. You tell me I’m weak when I’ve done all I can to be what you want me to be. You justify tossing people aside by saying we don’t belong…that we’ve denounced the religion. You’ve left me feeling so confused and broken-hearted. I’ve trusted you from day one. You have no answers for me and act as though my questions aren’t valid. You say I belong, yet I can’t truly be me if I stay. You make me feel as though I’m the one casting myself out, when you’re the one who has cast me out.
I want to believe in you. I want to believe everything is true. Yet I don’t at the same time. It’s so hard. All the little rules and regulations you create, so I can prove my perfection in order to make it back to God. I cannot be like God. I’ve exhausted myself trying. I’ve driven myself to the brink of insanity. I nearly swerved my car off a bridge. Is this the mental state in which you want to leave your followers? You tell me it is my fault for not having enough faith in Jesus Christ. There has GOT to be more mercy involved here. Why are you closing the door and turning your back on so many good people, and yet, telling them it’s the other way around? Telling them that they’re turning their backs on you?
I still doubt myself because of you. I wonder at times if I’m making it all up. If it’s all in my head. If it’s some sort of mental illness.
I am not allowed happiness unless I cut you out some how. Or, cut off a part of me that feels intrinsic, but a part that I continue to doubt while still attached to you. Why must I choose?
