"I have absolutely no doubt in my mind whatsoever AT ALL, that this is Christ's church, that the covenant path is ALWAAAAAAAAYYSSSS the easier, happier, more joyful, better path... [Christ] loves each and every single one of us more than we can ever comprehend."
Nearly a year ago I wrote this in my final email home to my family as I prepared myself to leave my full-time missionary service for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. For 18 months I spread the gospel of Jesus Christ. I found a love for others I didn't think was possible. Leaving was the hardest thing I ever had to do.
Following my homecoming, I felt a small burden lifted from me as I could finally take a nap, I could sleep past 6:30am, and stay up as late as I wanted to. I didn't have to wear a dress anymore and I was back to being a regular 20 year old. Music was such a huge part of my life and I was glad I could listen to old songs that used to make me happy and discover new ones. But despite all the good I felt would come, I also felt hopeless. If you've read any previous posts, you know I was lost. Along with this came a feeling of being abandoned by God. Coming home felt like a cruel joke. I had been called to forget myself for a year and a half and focus solely on the gospel of Jesus Christ, and then I was supposed to come home and do what? Why did God let me love my mission so much, only to take it away from me, and leave me to fend for myself in the real world? At least, that's what it all felt like.
The days following my homecoming, I walked around without my name tag, a hole in my chest where it used to be. I tried to enjoy my family. I tried to enjoy all these things I was excited to come home to. But I couldn't. I locked myself in my room and cried in my prayers asking why it was so hard to come home. I had no routine. Nothing. Everything that had made me the happiest I had ever been in my entire life was gone.
I tried to hold onto my testimony. I tried to keep studying, realizing that the hours I got on my mission to study weren't realistic in the real world, therefore adjusting my schedule to fit it. For a little it worked, but it almost felt empty. I hoped going back to BYUI would help me find my spirituality again as I would be surrounded by people who believed the same as I did.
For the first little bit I was happy. I was finding friends. I had good roommates. I was getting back into social work. And then my anxiety took over. I begged God to help me. I pleaded for direction. Along with the anxiety came my depression. I kept trying to study my scriptures, listen to the counsel of church leaders, attend church every Sunday. I let time get the best of me and without feeling I was really receiving what I thought I needed anyway, I progressively stopped doing what I was supposed to.
I prayed half halfheartedly because I felt I was talking to a wall. Nothing was getting better and God had just abandoned me. I felt too busy to read my scriptures and so I listened to The Book of Mormon while getting ready in the morning, but it started to become background noise, something I was just trying to check off. Church was more of a social thing and when people talked about trials and continuing on this so-called "covenant path" I barely listened. Where was God when I had tried to do everything I was supposed to?
Things started changing- life circumstances, questions I thought I had found answers to were slapping me in the face all over again. I felt the people around me were close-minded to the issues I faced, and I heard rude comments about people going "less active" and felt embarrassed for even having the questions I had. It was starting to feel like there was no room for me. People were saying it was so simple to stay on the path and all I had to do was trust God, and I would be fine. I just had to do what was right and Heaven it was for me. Don't let the questions bother me. Don't question. Just pray.
I disappeared after second hour (Sunday school hour) to go on a drive or be with friends because I felt I didn't belong. I was going to church out of obligation. I was going because I didn't want to admit I was lost. I didn't want to let those around me down.
Eventually I completely stopped reading my scriptures and rarely prayed. When I went to church I was never really listening. It all felt so wrong. But those 18 months I spent teaching what I once knew and believed to be true couldn't be a waste, could it? I watched people I loved enter into the waters of baptism. I witnessed the spirit testify to them the truthfulness of the message I shared. Could I throw that all away?
Mentally and spiritually, I was pretty much checked out. I put on a facade that I was all in. I pretended there was hope. Inside, I felt none. I felt betrayed. I felt that God and Christ were these Beings to be fearful of. They weren't loving. I was being tested, I was failing, and there was no way out.
There was a constant internal battle as to what I knew I needed to do, but not wanting to do it because there was no hope. I was up and down, some days feeling like I finally had my act together and other times feeling like God was laughing at me. Where would I find solace?
Many nights I've lied in bed and tried to remind myself of what matters. What does the church talk about? Christ. His everlasting atonement. I had to believe Him and His atonement were there for me. I couldn't back away from the experiences I've had, from the things I knew. So, I've been praying again. I kneel when I pray, instead of a halfhearted, "Thanks for today, don't let my family die, amen," just as I'm about to fall asleep. I take the time and really think about the things I'm grateful for, what I need, and how I can get through this faith crisis. Since the new semester started I've picked up my Book of Mormon again, reading with the intent to once again find if God is there, if They love me, and if there is hope.
I would love to tell you a lot of miraculous stuff has happened. The reality is it hasn't and I've had a couple set backs. Just the other day I felt my life was a joke because I was just getting back into things, then something came along and knocked me over, making me believe this was all wrong. I used to think of myself as someone with a lot of faith. I knew who God was, who my Savior was, ever since I was a little girl. Sometimes it's hard to think of myself drifting. I constantly beat myself up, thinking that I'm failing someone. I don't know who. Probably everyone. My family. The people I taught. Fellow missionaries. Myself. God. The list could go on.
So many think there's a simple fix, but there's not, and it all takes time. It breaks my heart I'm not the same spiritually confident person I was 10 months ago. But I'm making my way back. I'm doing what I can, one step at a time. That's all any of us can really do, right?
If you're questioning your faith, or I guess anything else in life, go back to the basics one step at a time. I could throw myself all in, but one, I don't know what that looks like, two, I couldn't even if I did. When I look at the pictures on my wall from my mission or of the temple, I see Christ. I see who I thought He once was- loving, full of mercy and grace. I'll find Him again. The thing is, as much as I believe(d) He left me, I left. In life we always have choices. I had a companion once say that when we face trials in our life, we can either turn to God or not. I turned away and it hasn't been a good time. I thought it would make my life easier because the things that bothered me wouldn't be an issue. I wouldn't have to worry about sitting in church and not feeling like I had a place. It hasn't been that way at all. I've been more confused than ever before. In praying and studying again (slowly), I am beginning to find what I love about the gospel, or, rather whom I love- my Father in Heaven and Jesus Christ. They are so much more loving than we may believe and definitely more than we can comprehend. So, there's a place for a questioning soul like mine. There's a place for you. It's not bad to question. How else will we find truth?
I ask of you, regardless of your faith, to not judge. To not disregard the hard experiences of those around you. To listen to them. To not make rude comments about being less active or inactive or even for not having a faith. That's not what Christ does. I taught that He stands waiting, arms wide open, ready to receive us. And I'm learning to believe that once more.
---Maggie
Nearly a year ago I wrote this in my final email home to my family as I prepared myself to leave my full-time missionary service for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. For 18 months I spread the gospel of Jesus Christ. I found a love for others I didn't think was possible. Leaving was the hardest thing I ever had to do.
Following my homecoming, I felt a small burden lifted from me as I could finally take a nap, I could sleep past 6:30am, and stay up as late as I wanted to. I didn't have to wear a dress anymore and I was back to being a regular 20 year old. Music was such a huge part of my life and I was glad I could listen to old songs that used to make me happy and discover new ones. But despite all the good I felt would come, I also felt hopeless. If you've read any previous posts, you know I was lost. Along with this came a feeling of being abandoned by God. Coming home felt like a cruel joke. I had been called to forget myself for a year and a half and focus solely on the gospel of Jesus Christ, and then I was supposed to come home and do what? Why did God let me love my mission so much, only to take it away from me, and leave me to fend for myself in the real world? At least, that's what it all felt like.
The days following my homecoming, I walked around without my name tag, a hole in my chest where it used to be. I tried to enjoy my family. I tried to enjoy all these things I was excited to come home to. But I couldn't. I locked myself in my room and cried in my prayers asking why it was so hard to come home. I had no routine. Nothing. Everything that had made me the happiest I had ever been in my entire life was gone.
I tried to hold onto my testimony. I tried to keep studying, realizing that the hours I got on my mission to study weren't realistic in the real world, therefore adjusting my schedule to fit it. For a little it worked, but it almost felt empty. I hoped going back to BYUI would help me find my spirituality again as I would be surrounded by people who believed the same as I did.
For the first little bit I was happy. I was finding friends. I had good roommates. I was getting back into social work. And then my anxiety took over. I begged God to help me. I pleaded for direction. Along with the anxiety came my depression. I kept trying to study my scriptures, listen to the counsel of church leaders, attend church every Sunday. I let time get the best of me and without feeling I was really receiving what I thought I needed anyway, I progressively stopped doing what I was supposed to.
I prayed half halfheartedly because I felt I was talking to a wall. Nothing was getting better and God had just abandoned me. I felt too busy to read my scriptures and so I listened to The Book of Mormon while getting ready in the morning, but it started to become background noise, something I was just trying to check off. Church was more of a social thing and when people talked about trials and continuing on this so-called "covenant path" I barely listened. Where was God when I had tried to do everything I was supposed to?
Things started changing- life circumstances, questions I thought I had found answers to were slapping me in the face all over again. I felt the people around me were close-minded to the issues I faced, and I heard rude comments about people going "less active" and felt embarrassed for even having the questions I had. It was starting to feel like there was no room for me. People were saying it was so simple to stay on the path and all I had to do was trust God, and I would be fine. I just had to do what was right and Heaven it was for me. Don't let the questions bother me. Don't question. Just pray.
I disappeared after second hour (Sunday school hour) to go on a drive or be with friends because I felt I didn't belong. I was going to church out of obligation. I was going because I didn't want to admit I was lost. I didn't want to let those around me down.
Mentally and spiritually, I was pretty much checked out. I put on a facade that I was all in. I pretended there was hope. Inside, I felt none. I felt betrayed. I felt that God and Christ were these Beings to be fearful of. They weren't loving. I was being tested, I was failing, and there was no way out.
There was a constant internal battle as to what I knew I needed to do, but not wanting to do it because there was no hope. I was up and down, some days feeling like I finally had my act together and other times feeling like God was laughing at me. Where would I find solace?
Many nights I've lied in bed and tried to remind myself of what matters. What does the church talk about? Christ. His everlasting atonement. I had to believe Him and His atonement were there for me. I couldn't back away from the experiences I've had, from the things I knew. So, I've been praying again. I kneel when I pray, instead of a halfhearted, "Thanks for today, don't let my family die, amen," just as I'm about to fall asleep. I take the time and really think about the things I'm grateful for, what I need, and how I can get through this faith crisis. Since the new semester started I've picked up my Book of Mormon again, reading with the intent to once again find if God is there, if They love me, and if there is hope.
I would love to tell you a lot of miraculous stuff has happened. The reality is it hasn't and I've had a couple set backs. Just the other day I felt my life was a joke because I was just getting back into things, then something came along and knocked me over, making me believe this was all wrong. I used to think of myself as someone with a lot of faith. I knew who God was, who my Savior was, ever since I was a little girl. Sometimes it's hard to think of myself drifting. I constantly beat myself up, thinking that I'm failing someone. I don't know who. Probably everyone. My family. The people I taught. Fellow missionaries. Myself. God. The list could go on.
So many think there's a simple fix, but there's not, and it all takes time. It breaks my heart I'm not the same spiritually confident person I was 10 months ago. But I'm making my way back. I'm doing what I can, one step at a time. That's all any of us can really do, right?
If you're questioning your faith, or I guess anything else in life, go back to the basics one step at a time. I could throw myself all in, but one, I don't know what that looks like, two, I couldn't even if I did. When I look at the pictures on my wall from my mission or of the temple, I see Christ. I see who I thought He once was- loving, full of mercy and grace. I'll find Him again. The thing is, as much as I believe(d) He left me, I left. In life we always have choices. I had a companion once say that when we face trials in our life, we can either turn to God or not. I turned away and it hasn't been a good time. I thought it would make my life easier because the things that bothered me wouldn't be an issue. I wouldn't have to worry about sitting in church and not feeling like I had a place. It hasn't been that way at all. I've been more confused than ever before. In praying and studying again (slowly), I am beginning to find what I love about the gospel, or, rather whom I love- my Father in Heaven and Jesus Christ. They are so much more loving than we may believe and definitely more than we can comprehend. So, there's a place for a questioning soul like mine. There's a place for you. It's not bad to question. How else will we find truth?
I ask of you, regardless of your faith, to not judge. To not disregard the hard experiences of those around you. To listen to them. To not make rude comments about being less active or inactive or even for not having a faith. That's not what Christ does. I taught that He stands waiting, arms wide open, ready to receive us. And I'm learning to believe that once more.
There are always times of trial. I wish I could say when this one will end and we will all land on some stable plateau for a while to catch our breath.
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