A week ago I found myself sitting in Sunday School. My arms were folded (I'm guessing) in an attempt to hold myself together. For the first time, maybe ever, I didn't make a single comment. If you've ever been in a meeting with me then you know what a profound statement that is - I love to share. For an hour straight, I silently listened to peoples' comments and found myself feeling internally cynical. And at one point the thought, "Why am I even here?" came to my mind.
For a significant portion of 2022, I've been going through a disciplinary process in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It's been like nothing I've ever experienced before. For those who may not know much about this: on a basic level, when you make decisions contrary to what you know to be right or the promises (covenants) you've made with God, there are consequences that follow. Based on your level of experience in the gospel and the degree of the sin, the consequences vary from person to person; no two situations are exactly the same.
I've been meeting with the bishop of my ward almost every week throughout this process. He has consistently utilized candor, hope, and love when communicating with me. I've felt endlessly supported in our hours and hours of time together. In addition to feeling hopeful, I've felt immense sadness, grief, and confusion. The consequences of my actions have included being released from my calling as well as being unable to take the sacrament, attend the temple, say prayers at church, and a variety of other things. Although I can't verbalize it, I have faith that there are divinely important reasons for these outcomes, but even still, it's been difficult for me to comprehend them.
"I'm starting to empathize in a way I've never been able to before," I told my bishop a couple weeks ago. "I can see why people leave the church. I feel like I'm standing at a crossroads where I can choose to either become bitter or become better, and I am starting to understand why people become bitter."
I've had to really dig deep the last few months. I've had to think a lot about why I want to stay and if this process is worth it. I’ve had to work to believe that God still loves me fully, regardless of my shortcomings. I’ve had to challenge myself to actively believe the atonement is truly for me, right now in these circumstances. I've had to ask myself if I think that my connection to divinity is severed or limited because of the ways I'm currently limited in church participation. And honestly, some days I do feel inhibited. It's not really a feeling of embarrassment - my discomfort doesn't come from what other people might think. What feels painful is realizing how much I've relied on traditions and rituals to fortify my faith. And I'm not trying to undervalue the power of those things because I think they're extremely important. But if that's really it... if the only reason I go to church is to do those things, then maybe my faith is more hollow than I realized.
I've been feeling frustrated with myself. Frustrated with my humanness. Frustrated with feeling lost and angry and apathetic. Sometimes I feel frustrated with the system or process or frustrated with the fact that I just don't understand it all. But right now my two main goals are to try to be like Jesus; to think of Him, learn of Him, and strive to connect with Him each day. And number two, to practice being okay with feeling like I'm not okay. I'm trying to get a little more comfortable with feeling sad or confused or empty.
The more I judge myself for the feelings I have, the deeper I spiral. And though I feel like it's generally in my nature to have an inexplicably positive perspective, I just don't have it right now. So my goal is to get to neutral. I don't need to understand it all and be incredibly at peace, but I also don't need to wallow in fear and uncertainty. For now, I can just be okay with not being okay and still strive to move forward.
It wasn't until tonight that I considered sharing this experience in such a public way, but I think it's what I need. I think it's what we ALL need. I think we need people in church meetings to share about how they were disfellowshiped in their teenage years. I think we need to hear about how someone lost themselves, lost their connection to God, and left the church for many years yet here they are, back with us again. I want to learn about the bitter and the ugly and the uncomfortable a little more often because I think there's something about this that has felt immensely isolating for me. And I do think we're getting there. I feel like I've experienced a greater willingness for those around me to be vulnerable and authentic during the 12 years I've been attending this church.
With great hope, I pray that in a year or so I'll look back at this experience with gratitude and awe at the Savior's love for me. I pray that I will make consistent efforts to love myself more and judge myself less. And I pray that thanks to small, mustard-seed-like faith, I will eventually find that I've become a more fortified, humbled, and Christ-like version of myself.
