Speaking Up.

Here's a post that I didn't want to write, and still don't, but I feel I need to say something. And that's my stated purpose in this whole project -- to open my mouth in a church context when I feel I need to, even if it is just to help myself.

Mormondom is in an uproar over the possible excommunications of John Dehlin and Kate Kelly (plus some other bloggers, from what I hear). I wish to make no comment about any of them. I don't know them. I know a bit about the whats and the whys of the situation though, and that's what causes me to speak up here. Because suddenly I am back in 1993.

1993 was difficult for me, a result of the infamous "September 6" excommunications. The events felt exactly as if the Church had appointed a hit man and the agitators were going to be silenced. I'm only describing the way it felt to me, watching it unfold, and I'm entitled to that description, whether it contains any shred of accuracy or is a figment of my own agitated mind. That's not important. As a member of the church, that's how I felt.

Suddenly I was in a struggle to remain faithful. I felt the boundaries shrinking and it made me incredibly uncomfortable and fearful for the future.

And then, President Hunter arrived, olive branch fully extended. It saved me, really. I was able to make the determination that choosing the gospel was more important to me than anything that the organization of the Church might say or do. I began to untangle the two, for the first time. I designated one as essential in my life and the other as something that I might always be at odds with in some way or other, but that I would not let detract from the first. I found a place for myself, and I worked very hard to do so. And over time, I healed and became much stronger than I had been before.

Which was a good thing, because a few years down the road I was confronted with the biggest challenge to my faith that I had yet endured and the only reason I survived is that I had hit bottom and had to make the choice once before. That fire prepared me for the more devastating, more personal one to come. Which thankfully I survived as well. Although it was a very close call. For the first time in my life, I came to the place where I saw clearly how and why people leave the church.

I remember the moment exactly. For some reason, in my mind, I was suddenly sitting in a tree, under a leafy canopy of green. And I was looking down on a little village, off in the distance, and I felt very removed from it, and it made me sad but there was relief too, that at last I was far enough away to get a true bird's eye view. And I realized that when I came down from this tree, I would have a choice as to whether to return to my village, or walk away from it. It's a strange visual, I know, and I'll never know exactly where it came from. Just a glimpse I had in a pivotal moment, but it made a lasting impact. I sat in the chapel one night at my absolute lowest, feeling there was not a place for me and that everyone would be happier if I were to go, and suddenly there it was, and I could see that I had to make a choice.

And when I came down from the tree, I walked back. Because it was where I lived.

So when I saw the announcements yesterday, I had a tremendous sinking feeling. My immediate reaction was, "Here we go again." One of my daughters was very upset also, so we chatted, and shared links to things that we each thought might help and commiserated. And cried. She at her keyboard, me at mine. This is her first time witnessing this particular kind of war, and I could truly empathize with her pain and feelings of bewilderment and betrayal.

I once had a Dr. explain to me why church things felt so personal and so difficult for me. He said, "We're talking about your spiritual home. We're talking about the things that are very nearest and dearest to your heart. And when those things turn on you, and act in ways that are contrary to everything you have believed and perceived, and when they are no longer safe places for your spirit, it quite literally breaks your heart. It goes right to the core of who you are. You should be crying, so go ahead. The church you love is breaking your heart."

But the answer was in that last line there, because he was right. At those points, the church was breaking my heart, not the gospel. The gospel was the way to survive the breaks.

And the thing that is breaking my heart this time is that I see this action as yet another strike against diversity in our church. I have tried and tried to reconcile anything about these excommunications with President Uchtdorf's conference address in which he entreated all to "Come, join with us." Despite sins, or shortcomings, or doubts, or questions, or beliefs, or anything we might bring to the gospel table his invitation was clear. But it rings a little hollow in the face of these actions.

And as a person who feels the personal call to ride border patrol, to be continually watching the exits and rounding up the strays -- the church is suddenly making that job seem very hard. We can't ask people to leave and expect them to stay at the same time.

I know faithful members of the church who run the belief/doubt spectrum from one end to the other. All contribute to the richness of my experience in my chosen spiritual home. All are essential. None are expendable. It doesn't matter one whit to me where someone sits in their personal testimony, if they desire to be on the benches on Sunday, I want them to be there with me. If they feel worthy to partake of the sacrament and want its influence in their lives, I want to pass them the tray. That's the entire point of the thing, after all. It doesn't matter how much we each understand or where we agree or disagree on gospel (and more especially policy) topics. I long ago came to be comfortable with the fact that I probably don't agree with the majority of any class I'm in, and I'm even beginning to value that a bit. Sometimes others enlarge my perspective. Sometimes I do the same for them.

Please, always allow me to grow. I want to allow you to do so as well.

I was lamenting the news of these excommunications to a friend who is not a member and his immediate response was, "They burn a lot of vitality out of their own fabric when they do this." It was a perfect description. He's right. And is that what we want? To become a church completely lacking in the vitality and intelligent discourse and spiritually awake, inquisitive nature that led to the Restoration to begin with? I can't believe that anyone thinks that would be the better path. No matter how safe it feels.

My mother in law quoted someone to me once, and I have no idea who it was, but I loved the line: "Oh, to be safely dead."

Well of course. But is that where we want to be? I thought we were looking to fill the whole earth.

And if the argument is that those deemed offenders are going to endanger the spiritual health of others, I say hogwash. I just won't put any stock at all in that argument, now or ever. We're all entitled to, even tasked with, our own journeys of faith. There is not a single person in the world who can make that journey piggy-back on another person and get anywhere meaningful or lasting as a result. These people have their sticking points, I have mine. You have yours. And I'm pretty darn sure every single one of the general authorities has his own too. There's not a member in any church that doesn't. Unless they've ceased thinking altogether.

Bottom line is, I feel strongly that we need to stop asking people to leave. And especially the ones who care enough to ask out loud the questions that matter to them, who are willing to risk so much for what they believe, and who keep showing up no matter how insurmountable their personal sticking points may feel. It seems to me that theirs is just another way of being valiant in their testimonies, and I thank them for speaking up. Whatever they feel the need to say.

- S.