Faith in Self

I've a big, fat, ugly problem with the idea that one cannot be happy or blessed if God or Jesus isn't thrown into the mix.

Y'all, this idea is everywhere lately.

A very very very Christian friend of mine wrote, "I may not see myself as anyone worth much of anything, but Jesus loves me, cherishes me–who could ask for more?"

It reminded me of a local Methodist announcement board (y'know, those that they have outside the church with often quirky and "clever" sayings for all to see?). It said "In order to make God great, you have to be less."

I rolled my eyes at first, but an acquaintance said "truer words!" and mine eyes were opened.

This is the problem. Not humility! But the feeling that without god, I am worthless and with god, I am worthless. The same church had before advertised "If you follow yourself, you've a fool for a leader" or some shit like that.

Do you feel awesome about yourself yet?

Then--and I don't frequent this discussion board at all anymore because it just pisses me off--I ran into a blog post over at Feminist Mormon Housewives because someone I like wrote it. Nat discusses the YW value of faith and asks "how can we best put this into action?" She talks about faith being nothing if you've no faith in yourself. It's well worth the read but the comments...well, here's your cliff's notes:

"Where's the mention of the Atonement? Of Jesus Christ? Of our Heavenly Father? Faith in oneself is nothing without Jesus."

FUCK. THAT. Y'ALL.

It made me so mad.

On a related note, there's the idea I've ran into all my life--Mormon and not--that if I just gave my anxiety to god he'd take it away.That I lacked faith if I couldn't or "wouldn't." Even my father, who knows how awful our condition is, gives some credence to this idea.

Dad, Dad, Dad.

He of all people ought to know better. I think he has an inkling, but we know how hard it is to deny lifelong teachings. You tell yourself that even though life is hard--nay, damn near impossible--now, it could be tragic if you changed anything.

But God doesn't take anxiety away. He adds to it.

Just because you walk away from God doesn't mean the anxiety and bullshit goes away with him. Not entirely. I've this sneaking suspicion that it's because God doesn't exist. It has nothing to do with God or his religions. It has everything to do with chemicals and constructs and how your brain is structured.You only have so much control, but you do have some control. I've learned this and am still learning this, and it has nothing to do with God.

Learning that you're worth it gives you faith. Denying your problems don't work. Trusting in God and not in yourself doesn't work. At all.

There's something amazing about the process of discovery of your own worth. That you, not God, can do it. That you, not God, did it. All because you believed in yourself. That's powerful. That's hope. That, y'all, is harder than belief in the divine.

Testimony of a Transgendered Child

I'm not all that familiar with transgendered or transsexual people, but it's showing up more and more in the blogs I follow. I saw this video a week or so ago, and it's pretty amazing. The more you learn about the differences between sex and gender, the more you realize this shit is for real. Not that it's our place to decide who a person should be anyway. Thought I'd share:

"My child is gender variant (Transgender) which means that during fetal development there was insufficient testosterone which resulted in the lack of male gender identity markers in the BSTC section of the pituitary gland in her brain. The result is a child who is born a natal male with a female gender identity. Gender exists between the ears, not between the legs." (jabberjawz223, aka super mama. emphasis added)

Ghostly Logic and Confidence

(yes, i know. but i found this in my drafts and thought "what the hell")

Had the in-laws over a few weeks ago. Big birthday party for all to be had.

The conversation in many ways proved interesting. As it often happens, talk went to how one family member loves to be scared but shouldn't be because she becomes SO FREAKED OUT. So we spoke of San Jose's Winchester House, Alcatraz, and then the TV show "The Ghost Hunters." This also, as it does now, leads to me telling others how much (cough) fun Eric is now when it comes to supernatural subjects. NO FUN. But, in this instance, it was also kind of sexy.

"You don't believe in ghosts?" someone asked him.

No apologies, just a very strong "No."

I swear, I wanted to jump him. There's something unbelievably sexy about that kind of unabashed confidence in the right kind of company. This company.

So we're talking ghosts and whether or not they're an actually existing entity when discussion turns to the logistics of a spirit moving physical objects. My first thought was: really? we're going to decide what's possible and what's not? how can you decide that when you believe what you do?

And then my husband's BIL says "Ghosts can't move physical objects because that's what bodies are for." Duh.

I just kind of looked at him. It spoke, for readers who don't know, to the teaching that everyone living on the Earth came here to acquire a body--a necessity for the afterlife.

This particular man is a good man--one of the best, but he can be a bit arrogant and pious. He's always right, you know? I grew up around this, so I have a bit of a physical reaction to it. So realizing that I knew that he wasn't necessarily right was a very good thing.

It's a matter of where my confidences lie. One of my biggest issues lies in not embracing my own beliefs. The fact that I felt sure enough in myself to not yield to his in the name of propriety was an exciting thing.

More and more I realize I need to sort out what I believe, accept it and love it in order for it to affect my relationships the way it ought to. I look forward to that. It only seems to be a process that lives on its own account and doesn't always seem to be something I can control. In a way that makes it better, but in a way that makes it worse, too. That said, last night it made it empowering, and I'm grateful for that.

Compromise

I've mentioned this a few times before (I think) and I believe the sentiments are shared by fellow converts:

Y'all, I feel stupid for even complaining. BIC members had no fucking choice. Me? I was EIGHTEEN.

Yes, I know. Eighteen isn't exactly adult, except perhaps on paper. I could vote, couldn't drink, finally got my sorry ass out of high school, and had zero clue of what to do with myself. I had a great GPA, but not great enough to get into UC Santa Cruz--and it wouldn't take much to talk me out of even that. It just took a pretty girl full of energy who was willing to be my best friend and a group of people who loved me without even getting to know me (all they needed to know was that I was a potential inmate). Whereas once I was a social outcast, surrounded by people who had known me since preschool, I was a new person. They didn't know who I was. It was a relief.

And let's be honest: I needed to get the fuck out of my parents house. I needed to cut the cord, because my mom would never on her own.

So you have a convert who left the church and is now bitching about it. I feel lame for doing it, and like I said I'm not the only one. I know what the world is like without the church whereas BIC members have no clue.

But I've been doing some thinking.

I characterize myself as an ex-Christian girl, but if cornered you'd find out that I'm hard pressed to go very far in denouncing Christ. I may know what the world is like without the LDS church, I can largely break off from the hammering doctrine easily construed as brainwashing, but I can't get away from Christ.

For about a year following my disaffection I would denounce and bitch about the church, feeling rather confident in my feelings--but the second you put me with SIL for more than five seconds (if that), I'd leave with an enormous desire to go back. To figure out a way in. A compromise. In the end I knew I couldn't, but you can believe I tried. I believe I've said it recently, but that part is over now. Mostly because she has changed, and so have I. Because our friendship has fizzled, and I'm done mourning it nearly ten years after it began to crack.

That said, I still have Christ. I have entered into one church since leaving the LDS church that hasn't thrown me into a complete fit of anxiety and panic. I wasn't totally calm by any means, but I didn't freak out. And while that church is nowhere near me now (you wouldn't catch even a UU church within 45 miles of me), sometimes I think "you know, if I were to attend a church that would be the one."

But then it stops, because I don't believe. But I want to. Sometimes I want to so, so bad.

I want to compromise my beliefs sometimes, but I don't even try to. I don't because Eric is atheist through and through now and I don't want to deal with that, even though I know he'd deal with it. I don't because my desires always hit a brick wall when I realize I don't believe. Not really.

Christmas was weird for this. All the children's shows and whatever featuring characters who mentioned Christ and the way I'd react inside, wondering when we're going to have The Talk with the kids. Jason, I know, is interested. My views (my scrooge-ish views) on Santa changed: let 'em believe! then later we can use that as a lesson regarding how everyone can tell you one thing and yet it's still wrong: use yr brain, kids). I couldn't just relax. I'm on constant vigilance, and it hurts. It physically hurts.

I need to come to some sort of peace, but I don't know how. I've rejected Mormonism after some work, now I'm working on my feelings regarding Christianity which entails a lifetime of inherent belief. Even when I took the four year sabbatical from church, I still believed.

It fucks me up with regard to my kids. It just really sucks.

Patriarchal Blessings

So glad I'm not alone.

Then again, had I KNOWN I wasn't alone at the time, I might've gotten the fuck out a lot sooner. Then again, I wouldn't have met Eric.

I swear, it's all sorts of fucked up.

For those who may not know what a patriarchal blessing is, in each stake there is one or two generally old men who are "set apart" to be the Patriarch. One of these old dudes gives what is often referred to as a personal scripture to each worthy member of the church after an interview with their bishop who determines worthiness. I think new members have to wait at least a year. So this "blessing" tells you about who you were in the premortal existence, what lineage you can claim re: the 12 tribes of Israel, warnings to watch out for in the present time and what you can expect in the future. If, say, your blessing promises you a marriage to a worthy woman which results in many children and you--gasp--don't get it (also counts for going on a mission), it is rationalized that you will receive such things in the afterlife.

So lately I'm reading a lot of other people's accounts of how their patriarchal blessings began with a fairly long "interview" where the almighty patriarch (he who is endowed--teehee--with the ability of a psychic to know my past, present AND future) before the actual "blessing"

The entire time I'm speaking with this man I'm thinking "wtf, are you serious? this is very weird." I KNEW I was in effect giving this man the answers before the test. This feeling was verified during the actual blessing as I was told all the same shit I just told this guy. Nothing--nothing--was new to me.

I was so pissed for years after this. Just pissed. I was in tears. I wanted to tell somebody, but that's just not an option. It's supposed to be just for you, nobody else. You can give away a few things here and there in the correct setting, but never ever share the entire thing with anyone other than your parents and/or spouse.

I should post it. I should. Maybe another time. Oh wait, I did!

And I understand that this may be nit-picking and rather punctuation-crazy of me (although I understand I'm not perfect at this either), but I couldn't believe the errors once I received my printed copy. Shouldn't something of this importance be, you know, professionally transcribed?

Every time I read it I wanted to cry. It just made me so angry. Once I married Eric I was happy to show him and confess, finally, that I hated it. I hated it more once I read his. He loved mine, though, and I could never figure out why. I loved his. I don't remember why. It just seemed better in a lot of ways.

I felt robbed. Any asshole can ask a few choice questions and them "predict" shit. Also, when all else fails just say this person is of the tribe of Ephraim and make some shit up when that person's other family member is of the tribe of, say, Benjamin (it's supposed to be a blood thing--if you're Jewish you'll be assigned to the Judah--I think. Correction?)

It's fucking ridiculous.

Now that I've posted it, you can see it at My Patriarchal Blessing

Who's a Christian?

Comments regarding my last post unwittingly makes me think about what makes a "real" Christian and if it's really up to us to decide who is one and who is not one.

I've been watching/catching up with "The Tudors" lately (highly recommended) and taking issue with characters in the show who claim to know God's will. How can they decide, and how can we say they are wrong if we, too, claim to have our own version (as believers or agnostics)?

Regarding an alleged (by the show) Papal-authorized plot to kill Anne Boleyn, from a representative of the Pope to the assassin: "Angels will praise you as you enter heaven if you kill this whore."

Christian? They would certainly think so. And who would we be to question that in a religiously motivated sense--they were protecting the Church and its people. This powerful woman to-be threatened the church. Others rebelled, sure, but Henry's royal move would be too influential, too revolutionary, take too many from the flock. To kill Anne would be no different than God telling Nephi to kill Laban because "it's best that one dies to spare many." Every denomination has its own rationalizations that it would make.

See also: Abraham and Isaac.

I'm loathe to judge who is and who is not Christian because it really does depend on one's definition of "Christian" and I think it's a bit more complex than "A follower of Jesus" let alone "duh his name is included in the name of our church" or even "duh we include the Bible in our canon."

I know few people I'd consider "Christian" but again it's subjective to what I consider Christian. I like quiet people who live their faith and don't shove it in my face and who follow the more difficult examples of Christ as written in the Bible. Then again, some very close people to me to not do this, and I would never take their self-description of "Christian" away from them.

That said, their actions bug the shit out of me and I'm not entirely comfortable with their method of worship and active fear-mongering, all in the name of saving the otherwise damned. All in the name of being Christian.

But that's how they interpret the Bible. This is how they define "Christian."

The Mormons: genuinely nice people but incredibly, as Cognitive Dissenter put it, ethnocentric. Some of you will O_o at our use of the word, but it really is descriptive enough.

Unlike mainstream Christianity which effectively separates spirituality and reality of how one conducts their behavior and lives, Mormons are more active, assuring themselves and others that they are followers of Christ--faith, yes, but works are required to prove that faith.

It doesn't necessarily work, but this is how they interpret scripture. This is how they define (true) "Christian."

Back in the days when King Henry VIII broke off with the Catholic church the Catholics decided who was Christian and who was not. Even Henry did--and both by the sword. And what authority did they have? The authority they and tradition gave them, an authority they abused to absurd lengths and continue to abuse. But they believed it with all their hearts. It was genuine. They had the truth, it was irrefutable (though one could also argue it was a matter of power making for quite the insatiable hunger)

This is how they interpreted the faith. This is how they defined "Christian."

Some churches accept gay parishioners and even openly gay clergy, saying God would accept, that it's totally okay while others demand it's an abomination--against God, nature, and scripture.

Others disagree on women in the church by way of participation and leadership. Women will be in submission, they will be silent. Until 30 or so years ago women were not allowed to give a public prayer in an LDS service. You think other churches even today don't disagree with that? Speak with a Jehovah's Witness. Find an especially conservative or orthodox church.

This is how they interpret scripture. This is how they define "Christian."

There are various versions of the Bible floating around--even the Book of Mormon (see Reformed LDS). They act accordingly. This is what they believe. They is how they honestly define "Christian."

Are they any different than those cults with leaders who literally get their followers to live on communes and drink the kool-aid (that's not just a saying, in case you didn't know)? Any different than Westboro Baptist Church? Of course they're evil bastards, but they read scripture differently and interpret "Christian" another way.

I could go on, but in the end here is my point:

Anyone and everyone has and will say they have whatever authority to determine who is a "real" Christian and who is not and what actions prove such an affiliation. The interpretation is based on individual and collective experience and knowledge--even personality and culture. History.

Too many factors make deciding who is right and who is Christian far too beyond our reach, yet we insist upon it. We insist upon it, also, given only what we know: a book of scripture canonized by a circle of men with their own perceptions and motivations, including political ones. We insist upon it even though what we have is minimal. We insist upon it even though much of what is in the Bible is hearsay. We act as mind-readers. We accept and reject--all of us. We know nothing except what we have, and I don't think this is wrong because we cannot help what we do not know (to a certain degree) by way of Biblical history--we can only act on what we know, but we cannot act as if it is all we need to know. We should at least qualify it, which some do! but not nearly enough.

I just read a quote on my reader that resonated with me with regard to this post. The speaker is Jack Pryor (random dude on FB quoted by my feed):

Taking a set of facts and forming an opinion is alright; taking a set of opinions and forming a fact is dishonest...

Who is and who is not Christian strikes me as more opinion than fact. Is it analogous to who is a "Real" American and who is not? It gets dicey because it becomes and is a matter of condemning or condoning ones morality, and being a good person shouldn't be and isn't an exclusive trait of Christianity.

Thoughts?

Faith

I was never one to rip something apart just to figure out how it worked. I just never was that kid.

However.

On our drive home from San Francisco the other night, Eric and I had yet another discussion about faith as it relates to both religion and science. Some of you may think after previous posts that I feel science relieves me of the need for faith as it provides much proof. I thought perhaps this was the case as well, but after going through a few surprisingly interesting discussions on faith during my stint in the clink and after discussions with Eric I know (oh god, that word)--rather, I feel this isn't true anymore.

Again! Must...get...vocab...out...of...brain.

During the summer after high school, I felt an interest in attending a Christian college, learning Hebrew, and seeing the original Biblical texts for myself because I wanted to know for myself. I had to know everything and not trust in what preachers told me. I knew because I had experienced that every preacher and every church in every denomination generally taught varying things. Knowing this is part of what drew me to the LDS church--it was the same everywhere.

So I felt a need to know everything. I knew it was a difficult if not impossible task, but I wanted to try.

Then I read the BYUish codes I had to agree to to get into such colleges (Bethany, in particular) and couldn't even pretend. I didn't believe in the Trinity. I didn't believe in the Nicene Creed. Dead before I even stepped in the door.

The LDS church answered all my questions for me anyways. The KJV was the bestest out there. Living and breathing prophets had spoken with god. These stories were recent, a plus in my book.

Anyway, so you join and you know everything. Woo! (even though you don't, shh!)

Enter disaffection and apostasy and suddenly you're faced with the fact that you don't know shit, jack. I thought I was okay with this. A lot of people, I've found, find a great deal of comfort in this. Then I began to learn a little bit more about my world, about life's history and development and past. Hardly enough to make me an expert but enough to make me blink a couple times.

Then Eric, having gone through a rather rigorous math program, told me he feels he knows enough to take care of the possibility of there being a god. He is an atheist in the sense that he feels chances are slim to none, and he'll just live his life as a good person.

I discussed this a little bit here, and quite a few balked. Nobody wants to say they "know" anymore, and I completely understand this. I had learned I know nothing, something I still feel to this day. But not in a comforting sense. I'm hardly comforted by this.

It's a lot of pressure for me, personally, to know nothing. I'm surrounded by people who know so much. I don't understand how Eric is so educated on so many things. People in general. I don't get where I got off the boat. I feel rather stupid, to put it bluntly.

So I want to know more.

I've been feeling an immense need and intense internal pressure to learn everything there is to know about evolutionary biology, about genetics, about history. But I'm not a biology major, nor will I be one. My love is for English. And I hate lab. While I feel a fascination and a love for biology, I don't have the fucking time to go back and get my math and chemistry taken care of JUST so I can get my biology minor. I'm working my ass off in just this one class to get a good grade. I'd kill myself later. It wouldn't happen. I figure I'll just watch shows with Eric and read a few books. I'd rather minor in history, anyways.

But still, y'all, I want to know more.

So I spoke with Eric about that. There are plenty of people out there (a very small group by comparison I'm told) who are, I assume, non-religious and who don't accept the theory of evolution and natural selection. I do not include the crazy folk over at the Creation Museum, by the way.

But I want to know their side. I want to know what it is that is keeping this from being fact. In my heart, I'm a debater. I have to know both sides. I have to consider everything so I'm not a schmuck who just falls in with the popular crowd.

Eric and the scientific community at large tells me I don't have to know the other side. It just is. It's so close to fact that I may as well consider it fact. Like humans' responsibility for global warming.

There's that word again. Fact. Know.

But there's a bit of faith involved, isn't there? Faith in my books, my professor, science. Is it much different than faith in a book of ancient scripture? Theologians? People who claim to have a direct batphone to god?

Well, that last one probably not. But theologians--they're historians as well, yeah? They understand context. It's part of the reason I loved Jesus the Christ and whatever classes they offered years ago in my stake that went into the nitty gritty (the stuff my institute director told me was "too deep" for my greenie convert self to handle. asshole) that they have, surprise! since discontinued.

In the end, however, you have to have faith. Faith, my old LDS Institute Friday Night Forum discussion said, even to turn on the fucking faucet.

I can accept some things. I have to accept some things: there is evidence for evolution. A lot of it. Science explains, proves, predicts. Every single one of us, I think, as a function of not knowing anything, have faith in science, though. We don't know how some things work, but we figure that someone does. Someone figured it out or will figure it out. We leave it to them. We have faith.

There is no solid evidence for god, which is what makes him/her/it an exclusive matter of faith. But people will still try. They point to the Bible, their personal spiritual experiences, speaking in tongues and crazy coincidences and feelings and by making maps and anthropology, digs and history, by reconstructing Noah's Ark. Even the Mormons, who by lip-service shy away from evidence because that's not with faith is, will seek evidence to prove something to their non-member friends and family. To convince themselves that their warm fuzzies have merit.

Because there's intuition, too. What does science say about intuition?

But while I can say with great confidence that there is no Santa who travels the world in a single night and drops off presents for all the good boys and girls, that there are no fairies (my teenage self sniffs), etc--I can't for sure say much more than that. I'm pretty certain god never sent an angel with a flaming sword to Joe Smith to threaten him with his life if he didn't marry a fourteen-year-old girl behind his wife's back, and despite how she will feel and what she says. I want nothing to do with a god who dismisses his daughters' feelings of self-worth for his own benefit.

Eric says science is better because I can look it up. I can find the answers. In religion, I have to feel out the answers, have faith in something that has little to no backup. Sure King Solomon had a temple--beyond that?

But even scientists don't know everything.

Faith is in that which you cannot look up. Faith in the divine is what seems to have constructed religion when there were no answers.

With time, answers come.

But, like myself, is it possible to ever know everything? Because if not, then what?

Then, I think, faith becomes a matter of trust.

I feel I behave as an atheist these days, but I still have these questions and need to know because I don't want to be duped again. My faith, however, needs to be in myself and not in some divine creature I know absolutely nothing about.

I can cherry-pick teachings and apply them to my life, but beyond that I can't dedicate myself to something divine anymore. And I know it's a bit of blasphemy for many that I want to know, but I do. I know I won't ever know enough to never need faith, but I'm struggling lately with the need to get there anyway.

At least that's how I feel this week.

Yes.

I can't seem to see very much outside the frame of my relationship with religion these days, and this song is no different.

But it raises a different question: lyrics or music? I'm a lyrics girl, myself. But I do appreciate good music as well.

I Feel Weird
Steel Train, "Trampoline" (2007)

When I was eighteen everything was alive
Then the planes hit the towers
Then she died and he died
A part of me disappeared six feet in the ground
A million miles in the sky a fire burns,
A fire burns, a fire burns and it is mine

And I did what I did
What we did to survive
Five whole years of my life I spent mourning you and why?
Girl you're still alive
But you're too dead to keep inside
You take the years, you keep it all, I finally think I might be alright

So let's just let it all go cause nothing can change
And if something is lost then there's something to frame
I just sing what I have
And I got this girl, not yet crushed by the world
I'll count the freckles on her face one, two, three hundred times a day

And sing a new song
Something I'd never hear
It's better love that I found, bigger love that you fear
So deep inside me, hot in this frozen cave
Her fire burns, her fire burns, her fire burns and it is brave

When I was eighteen everything was alive
Then the planes hit the towers
Then she died, then he died
A part of me disappeared six feet in the ground
A million miles in the sky a fire burns,
A fire burns, and I just let it all go

I won't fear change
And if something is lost then there is something to frame
I'll just sing what I have in the heavens above
In the song in the sky a fire burns,
A fire burns, a fire burns and its for you

Agnostic vs. aThEiSt

I feel as if my topic has become kind of popular lately. I'm not saying it's because of me (anyone who visits Main Street Plaza on Sundays, notably, knows that outer blogness tends to post along the same theme--just like General Conference! omg). So, you know, we're kind of tethered that way.

But first, I get it. Especially from all my ex-/post-Mormon readers. Nobody wants to say "I know" ever, ever, EVER again. That's what y'all love about saying you're agnostic. Because you don't know and you don't fucking care to know. It feels good to say “maybe!” I get it. You know this.

Here's my thing, though: I never said I knew anything. Many atheists I know don't claim to know anything. Some do, but I'd consider them militant atheists. You know the kind. "I know God doesn't exist." That's militant atheism. That is not me.

It's a matter of definitions, which there are few. Here are mine, and I don't hold them exclusively:

Agnosticism:

1) I don't know, but I think there's a possibility.
2) I don’t know, you don’t know, you cannot know. (Militant)
3) I don't know, but I want to hold on to the hope.
4) I just don’t know.

I fell into definition #3. After a lifetime of Christianity and a decent chunk of my life spent in Mormonism, even considering that there was no god was NOT okay. There had to be a god! It's what I had been taught all my life. To consider otherwise was just too fucking scary. So it was a hope, but I never felt a peace about it. I know that's a very Mormon-y thing to say, but I do believe in trusting your intuition, I believe in having a peace about whatever you do. I haven't had a peace about "not knowing." And it's not because I didn't know, but because I was afraid. To be honest, I still haven't had a peace. Which is why I have to consider...

AthEiSm

1) There isn't a god. Period. (Militant)
2) I don't know, but what I do know indicates there isn't a god, so I'm just going to roll with that until I'm convinced otherwise.
3) Religion has done shit for me or society. I want nothing to do with God.

People really tend to believe atheists are closed-minded assholes. It's funny, because I don't consider myself closed-minded. At least I try my best not to be. I'm actually really willing to leave the door open for most anything. Ask Eric. I think it's become a fault of mine.

Here's the thing. It's weird for me to say this because, historically, I haven't been interested in science at all. But like I said, there are a few things about science and scientists that I especially respect:

1) If a hypothesis (educated guess) is proven false, the hypothesis is discarded or the person considers an alternative hypothesis for the same idea. "Maybe it's the light bulb and not the battery in this flashlight."

2) If a hypothesis is extensively tested and tried and proved, it's considered a theory. It is not considered fact for a loooooong time because there is a likely chance that they haven't considered something or that future technology and discoveries will prove the theory wrong. And for most scientists, this is totally okay. They are looking to learn about the world. Record what you see, not what you want to see.

This is what I consider atheism to be. A theory. What a person sees, not what they want or expect to see.

Listen, to my knowledge there is no way to experiment or test the supernatural. Ask my husband and he will say "oh, that happened because..." It drives me nuts, but he will. He's got an answer for just about everything.

It's no fun.

Anyway, we can say that the supernatural is something impossible. We can say science doesn't deal with the supernatural. That it's untestable, etc. But much of present day knowledge was considered impossible years ago.

Also, God is a faith thing. I get that the answer is that you need a spiritual ear to listen to spiritual things. And I don't doubt that unexplainable things happen--but, you know, what of other explanations?

So, yeah. According to this there is whatever minute possibility that the LDS church is "true" and faeries do exist and there is a band of unicorns over the mountains where I can't see and Santa does, in fact, know when we’re sleeping and knows when we’re awake so he can travel the world one night a year and give us presents (where the fuck IS he, though? I want my laptop) etc. etc. etc.

Whatever. There's a chance. I guess. The Santa thing is pretty convincing. Say it with me: Santa doesn't exist.

It’s okay to know some things.

Like many of you have done just by virtue of leaving the church, a point arrived where you took what you knew and had experienced and you put it together and made a reasonable conclusion. It is a BIG step. A lot of people have severe doubts about the church but stay, if only for a while longer, because the basic doctrine might be true and that's enough to make them suffer a while longer because the basic doctrine is the most important and even damning doctrine.

At some point, though, you have to decide. Now if you're an agnostic because "I dunno, you dunno, nobody knows"--fine. But I'd hardly consider that any more open-minded than "From what I know, the possibility is slim so I'm going to live my life as a good, decent person who helps others and does her best. If I'm given any reason to believe there is a god or whatever, I'll reconsider. Right now, however, I'm kidding myself if I say I believe."

I've left open the door for possibility. Please, please remember that. I am not the only one. Atheists are good people. They can be jerks, but religious people can be jerks too. So can agnostics. We’re people like that. And if you don’t appreciate atheists who go on and on on their blog about why religion is a farce and god doesn’t exist and is only a force for evil in the world, consider your own blog or those that you read and support that go on and on about why Mormonism is a manipulative, corporate farce that steals your money to buy billion dollar malls and tell women they are only to be barefoot and pregnant and subject to their husbands and, oh yeah, Moroni never existed. Also, while we’re at it, Nephi was a self-righteous dick.

Not saying you haven’t the right or a very good reason for doing so, because god knows I’ve done and will do the same thing and giggle like a hyena when others point out the obviously stupid stuff, but y’know. The door can swing both ways.


More later. I think I'll stop there.

Why I Bitch About the Church

I wonder sometimes why I am so compelled to talk about the church and religion, especially as a convert. It's an important question to ask yourself. We all have our reasons. I have more than just the one I'm going to discuss today.

Growing up, I took a lot of accelerated English courses--you know, the dreaded critical thinking stuff I love that one of my Molly friends totally acknowledged she wanted nothing to do with because see what happens?!

I read books like Fahrenheit 451. I read Anne Frank's diary. Animal Farm. Brave New World.

I also, while it didn't seem like it at the time, paid attention in my history classes. Enough, at least, to know a sufficient number of facts regarding things like WWII, the basics of the founding of our country.

I knew enough about censorship and the suppression of ideas (y'all have an idea about how I feel about Banned Books Week), but I didn't make the connection for some reason. I gave up that very fundamental part of me when I joined.

I graduated high school, understanding how important it is to have free speech. How important it is to know at least the very basics of our history. I don't know enough, but I had the idea.

And then I joined the LDS church?!

This is why I talk about it. I talk about it because what the fuck was I thinking?

Why did I allow myself to get involved in a church that suppresses freedom of...well, everything? A church that basically teaches "slavery is freedom"?

Hi, 1984.

I know that's a bit of an exaggeration, but when you consider that they determine what kind of underwear you should wear, even down to how you should wear your fucking bra, it's not much of an exaggeration. I would mention earrings again, but--well, I guess I just did.

And while I might have joined with some knowledge of the church, I still did go into it somewhat ignorant. I did study, but I didn't listen to "the other side" much, mostly because the super anti-brochures and books and movies were ridiculous and rational people tend to not listen to extremists. Which is what they are. I don't care for people who yell.

Also, I was trying to be mature about this. If this is god's church, then y'know, I should suck it up. Do what needs to be done.

You have to understand, also, that soon after I began investigating the church I gave up on my writing, my reading, and even went as far as to burn everything I'd ever written. Things I'd kill for today. My diaries, my poetry, my stories. Gone. Poof. Because they weren't worthy. Because I didn't want to be like Lot's wife and look back. Because I was better and needed a clean slate.

I mean, FUCK. I gave up on my dreams, people. Because they weren't worthy enough. And now I question if I can get them back. How far down have I dug and can I get out? Should I get out? I have kids and a family now--is it selfish of me to do what I need to do to go back to school? People, it's not like Eric will be home full time while I do this. I know it isn't that easy--he killed himself for us, but I feel so overwhelmed. And there are just some things I'll never get back.

In the end, the fact is that I didn't know enough about the church. I wasn't happy. I didn't fit in. I had met a girl I absolutely loved, and while I didn't join because of her, she made me feel awesome. I had spent the last two years estranged from my best friend and now I had a new one. She would've been my friend even if I hadn't joined. I knew that. But still. I'd been thinking about ending my four-year church sabbatical for a few months anyway. And the people I met following her were just as welcoming and fun. And the doctrine they give investigators is pretty awesome. Like skim milk.

I thought "I don't know everything, maybe I should trust in a god who does." I still remember giving the OT another go and thinking "the fuck? oh well. who am I to question god?"

I know.

I've always thought I didn't know everything. It's just a matter of where or in whom I'm willing to put my faith in.

I thought everything was possible. I mean, hell, if Moses talked to a burning bush as I grew up learning and just kinda "knew" to be truth, who was I to say that Joseph Smith didn't speak to God?

I'd always had my little doubts, but they weren't enough. Not until I really acknowledged the sickness that was the church and polygamy. That was the first slam.

But Prop 8 was the knockout punch. EXACTLY because of what I had been taught and felt deeper in my soul than I had ever believed that Joseph Smith was True. I was being silenced. I was being told how to vote. I was being intimidated. People weren't looking me in the eyes anymore. I was unworthy. My testimony wasn't good enough anymore.

Follow the Prophet, follow the prophet, he knows the way!

People told me that the Prophet wasn't infallible, duh--but jeebus. When he speaks, the fucking debate is over. I didn't need a leader's quote to know that--which quite a few exist. I'd been in the church long enough to learn and know that the prophet speaks for God, so we should consider his words when spoken officially as God's words. Hell, it's in scripture.

What I the Lord have spoken, I have spoken, and I excuse not myself; and though the heavens and the earth pass away, my word shall not pass away, but shall all be fulfilled, whether by mine own voice or by the voice of my servants, it is the same.

- D&C 1:38

But I was beginning to believe God was off his rocker. I was beginning to realize that Hinckley and Monson had no fucking clue what God wanted, let along Brigham Young. Joseph Smith. You can't be a person and a prophet. You just can't. It doesn't make sense. I know what the Bible says, but good hell.

Also, I believed in freedom more than that. I couldn't believe that if I spoke out against the church directly, I could be kicked out. People said "well, it's like a club. You play by its rules or get out."

But this club claimed the power to kick me out of heaven and to keep me from my family eternally. It took a long time for me to get over that, especially because in large part I like what this club teaches about heaven. It's far more inclusive than, say, my father's church.

So I talk about it. I need to talk. It's how I process. I need to go over and try to understand what it was that made me fall in line on so, so, so many different things. Things I normally wouldn't have thought of doing. Fortunately it didn't hurt anyone else (though I wonder sometimes about my kids--I wouldn't give any of them back for ANYTHING, but I do think I had one too many. Another post for another day, if I'm feeling brave), but it was enough to make me think about how easily I can be manipulated, even though I've always prided myself on having a bit of street smarts. Ha.

And that's really the scary part, and it's not without reason to think that the same thing could happen again on either a smaller or larger scale. For anyone.

Residual Guilt: Tithing

So the economy has finally hit us.

We're lucky, I know.

But seriously. I posted a status for a short time on facebook regarding how lame it was of Ah-nold to cut teachers' pay and where the hell is his personal contribution to all these cuts?

Then I realized I should be damned thankful my husband still has a job when so many people cannot find one and live--god, I don't even know how. So I deleted it.

But, stupid or not, I can't help but feel angry about this. It wasn't a small pay cut, and it'll only get deeper once our insurance rates go up by 25% in the near future. Now our premiums are (i suppose) reasonable compared to what they are for other people even in the neighboring district, but we are working off a beginning teacher's salary. With three kids. And I'm going back to school full time next semester--that is, if Ah-nold's education budget will allow me to.

Seriously, they won't even look at my application until they know if they can even afford me. Which I hope comes soon.

To put it into another perspective: my husband made more money working as a not-quite-full-time night clerk at a grocery store. We took a slash in pay when he took his seven years of education and put it to work doing something much more beneficial to society.

I mean, how do you compare stocking shelves to teaching kids critical thinking and preparing them for being productive adults?

SERIOUSLY.

So they cut education. And while I'm all about taking a hit along with everyone else, fuck!

But again, lucky to have a job. He did get the pink-slip this past May and was thankfully rehired.

Anyway. Back to the point.

Since we stopped paying tithing two years ago, we've gone on this whole celebration: "lookit! the world still revolves! we got a JOB in this economy! we got a great house at great rent! what? now we're BUYING a house at a great price? but i thought our financial house of cards was going to fall apart without tithing!"

Prideful? Maybe. But it was a big relief. A revelation.

Our bishop in the last ward we attended was also a teacher in the same district Eric is in, except this guy had seniority on his side. Tenure. Many years.

He lost his job.

Further proof, we thought, that tithing and blessings don't necessarily correlate. That said, for all we know said bishop found an even better job. But the experience still taught us that hardship is no respecter of persons. And I fully believe that.

Which is why I felt so angry.

Well, annoyed.

For a long time I worried, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's what I'm good at. And when we did the numbers the other day on our current finances, I couldn't help but wonder if it was maybe, maybe because we'd been bad. Yanno, no tithing. Among other things.

It sounds stupid now, but it isn't. Not after all those years.

Not that we're in a big bind or anything, but we have to tighten up big time. Discipline. You know. Things we're not exactly great at. Not with big things mind you, but small.

We're in debt (minus the house) for the first time ever. Not gigantic debt by any means, but debt nonetheless. I have to remind myself that some debt is okay if handled responsibly and is backed by a plan.

This and our savings account is a bit low, money we need to make it each month. It's not a matter of living within our means, just a matter of living. If it got bad enough we'd ditch the cell phone, but cells are pretty necessary these days. Especially for me. For various reasons I'll lump into a category entitled "anxiety" (increased anxiety = increased need for medical = more money per month than is needed for the cell)

Until I wrote this, I couldn't help but worry just a little in the back of my mind that we were being punished for our omissions. To put it in a more PC way, that god was "withholding blessings" from us because we hadn't met our part of the bargain.

Even though I don't believe. Leaning more atheist these days than agnostic, but you get the point.

I told Eric this last night and he reminded me that even faithful members are going through the same issues and maybe even worse. Just like anyone else.

Again, hardship is no respecter of persons.

Things have been good for us for a very long time now, so maybe we're about due anyways, if not overdue. Time to be adults, I guess, even though we've always been sticklers. Just not in this particular way.

It's scary, really.

That said, this might be really, really good for us.

I'm just tired of the residual guilt. Even when it does go away, something else always tends to sneak back in. I'm hoping that'll stop soon.

Mormon.org: Wow, Andy

I wonder what the hell the person from mormon.org was on when they accepted this profile.

I mean, WOW.

Hi, I'm Andy

I "met" Andy through his wife who would converse/debate with me on my Liberal Mormon That Could blog and then got to know him a smidge better through an online forum and then as a friend on Facebook.

I don't want to say more than that because I want this profile to remain as long as possible, but man. Nothing he said is untrue, but as we all know thanks to Elder Boyd K. Packer,

"Some things that are true aren't very useful."

and I think he would agree that Andy's response to the question Why did your church previously practice plural marriage (polygamy)?:

Mormons believe in strict obedience to our leaders. One of our highest leaders, a Prophet named the Prophet Ezra Taft Benson said, 'When our leaders speak, the thinking has been done. ... To think otherwise, without immediate repentance, may cost one his faith, may destroy his testimony, and leave him a stranger to the kingdom of God." Leaders in the 19th century told Mormons that they had to practice polygamy to get to Heaven, so they obeyed. Our leaders today tell us that we cannot practice polygamy or we will be kicked out of the church, so we obey. (emphasis added)

...isn't necessarily useful. Or, at the very least, something we say anymore. At least people argued against it a few years ago to me. We're supposed to think for oursel--just...well, uhm. Yeah. Supposed to agree with the prophet.

Don't miss his rather astute (and aggravating) response to the issue regarding "equality" between men and women.

I'm still in a bit of shock this was accepted.

** Added 12/18/2010: You may have noticed Andy's profile has since been removed. As I am told, Andy has contacted the church for explanation but has received no answer.  Nice.

Looking Back: Religious Progression

It's weird reading my old posts. I was so afraid to say or admit to certain things, afraid to offend people I didn't even know. I conceded often--which isn't a bad thing, necessarily, but...I dunno.

I sometimes feel as if there's not a hell of a lot more for me to say, like I've already said it all, just cleaner and more PC. To continue or repeat those rants would be a bit of a snore. Staged and scripted. I've felt a bit dry lately. I don't like to write unless I'm driven to write.

Anyway, it's interesting to see how some of my readers changed throughout the course of that blog. A few people left when they felt I crossed the line (how dare i criticize a leader!), but for the most part people kept with me, and I appreciated that.

But I have at least one (non-member) friend who felt I was far too conciliatory, and I think I always knew she was right. Let's face it, though: I was saying a lot of really controversial crap, at least to the TBM and even wavering-TBM crowd. To myself. It scared me a lot to say some of the things I said and it took me a while to stand up firmly to it, even if for only a few points. Two people I know from my own stake visited the blog. One girl kept with me for a while and we eventually had to part ways on facebook, and the other came only once to say "c'mon, we're not all that bad are we?"

Members take this shit so personally.

I even found out later that my dad was worrying about me. My dad! Mr. "Well-where-are-the-golden-plates-now, hmmm?"

I mean, shit, you can't please anybody. Hard as you might try, it's not gonna happen.

It's just interesting to see the progression and it makes me wonder where I'll end up. I look for quotes sometimes for this blog and find the sentiment that agnostics are pansies who can't make up their minds because they're scared. Fence-sitters. That's kind of where I was eighteen months ago, a fence-sitting-mormon girl. Hated it.

I hate that some may regard me as sitting on the fence of belief. But that's my problem. After all, I did take the leap and record my religious beliefs on facebook as "agnostic" and haven't looked back. But I had to be ready first, just like when Eric was later ready to list himself as "atheist."

Eric and I had a talk the other day and concluded that we're really just a hop, skip, and jump away from being on the same page. I consider myself agnostic because, like I've already mentioned, I don't think we know anything so to say we do seems a bit presumptuous to me. However, I'm leaning more on the atheist side. I'll be okay in the end either way, I figure. There's still the question of the ultimate point of creation, whether it be of a creator or a bunch of atoms bursting (and where did those come from?)--and that keeps me agnostic, too. Eric's college courses led him to believe there just isn't enough evidence to worry about it.

It is a fact that the more we learn from science the less religion needs to answer for the unknown, this even though some adopt a cafeteria-style approach to scientific theory and fact because the Bible says the Earth is only 6,000 years old!

I'm not quite ready to proclaim a confident disbelief or if I'm even sure I feel that way. But I wish I was. Then again, is it so bad to be a bit more open to things? I think it depends on where I am honestly: open or scared. Letting go of god and all that comes with him is frightening, and I've a lot of respect for people who've been able to do that.

I'm not even sure anymore if I have a hope in god. The more I consider the idea of returning to the Earth at death, the less I find I need him. The more I realize people are good without god, the less I find I need him. The more I find that life goes on just like it always has, the less I find I need god.

If I have a hope it is in that everything will work out. That I'll learn to trust myself and that that will be enough. Faith in oneself is just as hard, if not harder, as faith in a benevolent supreme being.

But it frustrates the fuck out of me to find myself praying to whatever when I'm scared. In there, I suppose, is a hope. But it seems like an awful selfish one when there are people in the world who suffer exponentially worse than me. That doesn't mean I don't matter, but I'm aware that I'm much more fortunate than many others. That said, I don't find myself thanking "god" for my so-called blessings. I find I can be thankful just for the sake of being thankful. It feels more honest.

I allow sentiments that suggest I'm a wuss to get under my skin far too much. I just spent two to five years afraid to leave a church I obviously didn't agree with because I didn't want to hear about it. Because I'd been told what would happen if I did. I wrote my last blog with the initial intention to prove a member could be liberal and a faithful mormon, but it was intellectually dishonest. I wasn't all that faithful. I ended up exposing myself as the rule and not the exception. I wanted to be strong, and while some of my posts--especially toward the end--suggested some strength, I was still very much afraid. Only time can heal that, I've found.

Right now I'm ready to resign, but I won't until my husband is ready, too. After all, it's his family, his community (he grew up here), and 30 years to my 10. I can wait.

So I'm a waverer. It's part of a process. At least now I'm not afraid to admit I drink coffee and have the occasional beer or cocktail or say the leaders and even the scriptures are assholes and full of crap.

And I can't help but wonder if leaving the LDS church is a bit of an inevitable gateway to atheism (or if that's a bad thing). I know it doesn't have to be, but it feels that way. I can't see the way to reach any other conclusion, especially as one who has been to many other (christian) churches before.

My above-mentioned non-member friend had her own struggle with Christianity and came out on the believer's end, and that intrigues me. I guess I just always felt I'd come out on this end because even there, at my other blog, when I'd go on about Christ I wasn't speaking of myself so much but to those who were reading so they'd listen to me a bit more. I don't take issue with Christ so much, anyway. I like much of what he's purported to have said and done. My biggest issue was the church's self-serving narcissistic bullshit with the occasional Jesus Christ punctuation.

Besides, it's a debate strategy. It's also, to me, a matter of respect of other people's beliefs.

But it bothers me that I'm generally the one to respect and feel others don't feel the need to respect me because I'm the apostate. Eric says it's that way because we're the ones who have changed the rules. I don't know. So I'm afraid to "blaspheme" sometimes. To offend. I don't know if anybody I know has found this blog or not (my ex-roomie is rather sneaky), and so I still hold back a little. Is this a matter of respect or just fear--and where's the line? Example: I don't care who knows my sekrit temple name, but I know it'd be crossing the line for the few friends I've left.

Topic for another post.

And I don't know. One of my personal mottos is to "never say never." So who knows. I may find myself an unorthodox believer someday. I don't want to ever consider myself a zealous one again, shiver. I just never want it to be out of fear. I never want to be put in a box in any sort of shackles because I don't feel I can handle this life on my own, with those I love around me. Shouldn't that be enough?

Life is too short for that.

I'm happy with where I am--to an extent. I still feel in a bit of a purgatory spiritually, like I have to pick a side. Perhaps that is my inner people-pleaser more than it is anything else. I still haven't found my peace. My husband has. Other people have. I'm still looking and waiting for my own.

I guess in some ways I'm still The Liberal Mormon That Could.