The two phases of this spiritual journey - Act II

The critical events of the second act took place in one intense week, for which it will be helpful to zoom in on the action.

On Sunday, February 13, 2011, I went to Church with my family like normal.  I had a copy of Gerald Lund’s new book Divine Signatures with me, lent by my Mother-in-law (my wife had asked me to read it), and I intended to distract myself from the talks by starting it.

The book is essentially a treatise for those who feel that the Gospel isn’t providing the comfort it should; lovely anecdotes of the hand of the Lord helping other people so that I can feel better that His hand is nowhere visible in my own struggles. 

I grasped the issue immediately: if the yoke isn’t easy and the burden isn’t light, and it isn’t so for enough people that books to explain the problem are in strong demand, it’s not because we’re all broken, it’s because it doesn’t work.  The promise is ineffectual.

I put the book down.  No need to waste my time and frustrate myself.  The adult speakers began. 

They were thankful they had been asked to give a talk on faithfulness because (of course) they needed it more than any of us.  For some time they had been frustrated with life and the Gospel because they felt like it wasn’t working for them, but because they had been asked to give this talk, they knew it would be all right.

Oh my God.

The anxiety attack lasted past midnight.  The next morning I wrote a short story, called it a parable, and emailed it to my wife, and then my Dad and Bishop for good measure.

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A man walked through life in the way men do, acquiring loved ones and relationships that filled his life with beauty and joy. 

As he grew from boy to man he learned more about the world around him and grew to appreciate the complexity and diversity of life. 

Over time he understood that the things he thought as a boy were not the same things he now thought as a man. Although this seemed natural, it brought him at odds with the culture of his family, friends, and the love of his life. 

The man saw that he could choose the path of virtue and selflessness by subordinating his conclusions to the peace of his family. 

The path of virtue thus cost him his integrity. 

This gave him anxiety at 1:00 in the morning. 

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After sending the messages, I typed www.postmormon.org into my web browser determined finally to find someone with whom I could really talk.  By the end of the day I had found the Iron Rod and Liahona talk by Richard Poll, and I had found NOM.

Home at last. 

Most reading this will already understand what it feels like coming into the DAMU for the first time, frustrated, scared, angry, sad.

Finding the DAMU for the first time is like breathing again when you think you’re about to drown.

I called my wife to tell her, and she was happy that I sounded happy and hopeful.

I jubilantly wrote my Bishop again to tell him that I had found a community to help (ok, yes, I’m a bit naïve).

I spent the day on the DAMU reading articles that confronted my conclusions without fear or apology.

But.

A few nights later I followed a link from NOM to MormonThink and read for the first time about the Book of Abraham and Joseph Smith and Polyandry.  It felt like torture; physical and mental anguish.  I freaked out.

I had been beating myself for years to try and make it work, but Google could have told me in two clicks that it was never going to work.  The anxiety and agony I had been feeling for years was all for a complicated, easy to disprove, lie. 

I could not allow my children to be set up for the same fall.

As far as I was concerned the house was on fire and we had to get out.

Silly me.

I got out.  I took off my garments.  I went with my wife to see the Bishop and explain that I was done.  I handed in the hard-fought-for recommend.  I told my family.  My wife told our good friends and key members of the ward.

At first she didn’t understand.  Something in her brain wouldn’t let her understand.  We talked and talked.  Some of the talks went well; some not.  We kept on trying.  After about a month, I read Palmer’s Insider’s View, and after I finished, she read it, too.  Miraculously, providentially, instantly, we understood each other.

Sigh.

Conclusions?

I realized recently that it isn’t that the “Restored Gospel” turned out to be “false” that upsets me most. 

I am upset by the way with which I was dealt.  I’m upset that my trust was abused.  I’m upset that the organization that taught me to be honest and seek after The Truth (capital T, mind you), is willing to lie, and bully, and endlessly justify its bad behavior in the most ludicrous ways.

I’m upset that the story of the emperor’s new clothes turned out to be the story of my life.  But when it’s my life, IT’S NOT FUNNY! 

Finally, I am upset that I have been told that I am being prideful.  I’m upset that I am expected to have faith against the evidence, not built upon the evidence. 

However…

I know the truth now.

And the truth set me free.