Good Friday was yesterday. Many (if not all) of you participated in, or at the very least saw a post about, the Worldwide Day of Prayer and Fasting. My heart remained heavy as I saw these posts and these invitations to join. I found myself struggling to have the desire to participate because of the betrayal I've felt from an organization I've dedicated my short life to. Before I continue, though, let me say this; I am in no way bashing on The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Personally, I would never do such a thing. It's something that offered me a lot of good growing up, and is something many of my loved ones know to be true, and I highly respect that. There are also parts of it I still believe and find good in.
When watching General Conference last weekend, I recognized a large shift in what my life was like not that long ago. Flashes of my last conference, just last October, crossed my mind, because shortly before that conference, as I was pushing myself to stay active in the church, I wrote a post about struggling with my testimony. So, a few weeks later, when that conference arrived, I felt like I was coming back, like I was going to make it. Really slowly, but I was making my way.
I'd attended a mission reunion and watched a session with many missionaries I'd grown to love over my time serving with them. I saw my mission president and his wife, excited to see them once more. I wrote down pages of notes. I was starting to feel a small sense of hope that maybe there was a place for me. By the end of the weekend, I was crushed (softly sobbing to myself in the conference center) when I was once again reminded of the doctrine of marriage and the law of chastity. I'd felt like I was being fed spiritually, and then this feast in front of me was being thrown in the garbage before I even got to finish. After that, I felt an ever increasing waning desire to push through the questions I had and keep going to church.
The thing is, so much of myself wanted to believe what I was writing at the end of that post from September 2019, because I believed that to be the only path I could take. Living within the church was pretty much all I'd known. It was semi-comfortable for me to just stay with what I knew, even though it was causing me a lot of heartache. I went on a date shortly after moving to SLC, and this person asked if I still went to church and I told them, "Not often. But I go sometimes just because it's all I've ever known." It was hard, though. I sat in the back of my ward, I listened to talks, and still felt like I was out of place. I tried so hard to make it back and feel like I could really participate in church. I tried so hard to focus on Christ and nothing and no one else. Being a member was my only real choice at the end of the day. How else would I make it to live with God once more? How else would I ever be happy? The guilt, the feeling that I'm losing my salvation, was the only thing that kept me going. I wasn't happy living that way. At all.
As I was forcing myself to go to church shortly after moving to SLC, I decided to move my records. I was (very kindly) bombarded with new information and invites from auxiliary leaders in a "new member meeting". I smiled so much in this meeting and tried so hard to act as though I would try to make it to some ward activity and that I was all into the whole church thing, that I was like, "Nah. I can't come back after this." But, right after that meeting, the Relief Society President invited me to go to class. I felt bad saying I "needed" to go because she was honestly so nice, so I went, but was really waiting for class to be over so I could leave... and as soon as it ended, I just smiled at everyone and said, "See ya!", knowing very well I wouldn't.
To be quite honest, I've felt a huge burden lifted off me as I've decided I wasn't going to participate in anything I didn't want to. I was consumed by feeling like I wasn't a good member, that I had to choose between finding love or being an active member, and I hated always wishing that things would change. It wasn't good for my own mental and spiritual health.
My final religion course I needed to graduate was my Eternal Families class. I tried faking my way through the semester with tear-filled eyes and a hurting heart, until certain questions were asked, or students would say things like being LGBTQ+ was similar to dealing with an addiction or eating disorder. I felt I had to be careful with what I said because I knew that if I fully admitted my thoughts or how I was living, I could get a nice little chat with the Honor Code Office. And that was frustrating. I'm not a bad person because of my choices, and I still believe in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I honestly feel the Spirit guiding me all the time. I feel Their presence in my life, through all those really good moments, and in those dark moments where I feel I'm completely alone. I've thanked my Father in Heaven for an opportunity to leave a toxic place, for helping me find myself, for His divine plan for me. I've felt His hand as I've embraced my sexuality and been on this new adventure in Salt Lake.
This decision didn't come easily. For an entire year, I've prayed to God for help on figuring out LGBTQ+ issues, on faith, on the church, and everything in between. I can't explain to you the hours I've spent crying and pleading to understand what was happening. I've asked what my real purpose is in life, why I'm bisexual, if it was okay for me to leave, and if there would still be a chance that I could make it to live with Him again. I have expressed so much anger and frustration, so much hurt to Him. In the middle of many nights I sobbed in my bed, asking Him to take it all away so I could just believe once more. I made deals. I tried reading my scriptures and praying and participating in church and going to the temple. I'd stare at photos from my mission and think, "What happened to me?" There have been countless sacred moments where He has wrapped His arms around me and told me I am okay, I am loved, and I am His daughter.
In a poem I wrote on one of these many sleepless nights in the last few weeks, I wrote this:
Like I said at the end of my coming out post , there is too much evidence in a God that I cannot deny Him, nor His Son, or the Spirit. As I closed with in my final assignment for my Eternal Families class, "My relationship with Them is the only thing that keeps me going." It's what I hold onto. Elder Holland had me in tears as I reread his talk from this conference, "A Perfect Brightness of Hope." Despite the pain I've felt and the roller coaster of a year I've had, I still have hope.
I have hope that someday this whole thing will work itself out, that my sexuality and those of the LGBTQ+ community will find their rightful home in society and in religion. I have hope that, despite what seems like an "inactive" returned missionary, I will return to live with God and my Savior again. I have hope that I will still be able to stand before Him and say that I loved Him, I served Him, and I loved and served my neighbor.
I can't be put in a place that has felt like it's trapping and hurting me. And honestly, that's okay. This is where I have to be. For me. And it's a decision I've made with God. Which, honestly, probably sounds weird, but it's my journey, my plan. Just like you have your own plan and journey.
I share this all with you today for a couple reasons. One is really because I don't want to feel like I'm pretending to be someone I'm not. Like that one day at that new member meeting, I can't keep it up. The other reason, and honestly the main reason, is because I want people to know they can step away if they need to. From anything. If it doesn't feel right, if it's hurting you too much, if it's not making you better, or whatever else, it's okay to stop and say, "This isn't for me." I've been afraid of saying that to anyone because telling people I hated BYU-I and had to get out of there is awkward enough. They don't get it, and I don't expect them to. But, it's okay to say it and do it. And you don't really have to explain those decisions to anyone if you don't want to. I just want people to know they're not alone. Also, I feel like I should note that I'm not encouraging anyone to leave the church. This stands as a general statement for stepping away from something, or even someone (this one is huge). We just don't need to feel guilty for our decisions. Like I said, and will always continue to say, we all have different paths. And God loves us through all of them and walks by our side if we let Him. He also knows us way better than we know ourselves, and that is why I definitely trust Him, because let me tell you, I've tried walking this path all on my own and it did not work out. I tried leaving behind my entire religion and gave up on my relationship with God. I was always confused. But as I've allowed Him back in, I know He holds my hand through this. I saw this little quote that said, "He left the 99 to find me." I'm a bisexual, Christian woman, living in Salt Lake, trying to graduate from BYU-I, dealing with COVID-19, mental health, and overall learning what my new life is. I cannot in anyway shape or form do this on my own. With Him I have faith things are going to be a-okay. Maybe I "left" an organization, but I didn't leave Him. And that's what's working for me.
My testimony is in Jesus Christ. He knows the pain, the tears shed, the anger. He knows it all. He hears it all. I am so incredibly grateful for that. And if you don't believe in God (or feel you don't have a strong relationship with Him), I hope you feel there is someone who listens. I hope you still feel you aren't alone. That you can find your path and your journey and good people to support you. I'm so grateful that when I told a friend (a couple of them, actually) that I wasn't really doing the whole "church thing" they said they would support me, and I could feel their love regardless. I'm still me and loved ones will understand that.
We are not less than because we step back. This relates to anything. Like I said, this could be with people. As a teenager I realized there were people in my life who weren't making me better. I found myself constantly worried about what they would think of me, and I became someone I didn't like. So, I stepped away. And it was hard. Don't think these kinds of choices are ever easy. I cried to my mom that I was losing these friends. We both knew it was actually for the better, but it hurt because I still shared part of my life with them. And I think that's why it was hard for me to see this Worldwide Fast at first- I've had to find new footing in stepping away from organized religion. But sometimes it all needs to be done. So, don't worry about judgement (easier said than done, but we can at least try). Do the things in life that will make you healthier and happier.
Thank you, as always, for reading this. I love sharing my journey with you, I love hearing your thoughts, and I am deeply grateful for this outlet.
Stay safe, wash your hands, allow yourself to feel when you need to, and remember to have hope.
---Maggie
When watching General Conference last weekend, I recognized a large shift in what my life was like not that long ago. Flashes of my last conference, just last October, crossed my mind, because shortly before that conference, as I was pushing myself to stay active in the church, I wrote a post about struggling with my testimony. So, a few weeks later, when that conference arrived, I felt like I was coming back, like I was going to make it. Really slowly, but I was making my way.
The thing is, so much of myself wanted to believe what I was writing at the end of that post from September 2019, because I believed that to be the only path I could take. Living within the church was pretty much all I'd known. It was semi-comfortable for me to just stay with what I knew, even though it was causing me a lot of heartache. I went on a date shortly after moving to SLC, and this person asked if I still went to church and I told them, "Not often. But I go sometimes just because it's all I've ever known." It was hard, though. I sat in the back of my ward, I listened to talks, and still felt like I was out of place. I tried so hard to make it back and feel like I could really participate in church. I tried so hard to focus on Christ and nothing and no one else. Being a member was my only real choice at the end of the day. How else would I make it to live with God once more? How else would I ever be happy? The guilt, the feeling that I'm losing my salvation, was the only thing that kept me going. I wasn't happy living that way. At all.
As I was forcing myself to go to church shortly after moving to SLC, I decided to move my records. I was (very kindly) bombarded with new information and invites from auxiliary leaders in a "new member meeting". I smiled so much in this meeting and tried so hard to act as though I would try to make it to some ward activity and that I was all into the whole church thing, that I was like, "Nah. I can't come back after this." But, right after that meeting, the Relief Society President invited me to go to class. I felt bad saying I "needed" to go because she was honestly so nice, so I went, but was really waiting for class to be over so I could leave... and as soon as it ended, I just smiled at everyone and said, "See ya!", knowing very well I wouldn't.
To be quite honest, I've felt a huge burden lifted off me as I've decided I wasn't going to participate in anything I didn't want to. I was consumed by feeling like I wasn't a good member, that I had to choose between finding love or being an active member, and I hated always wishing that things would change. It wasn't good for my own mental and spiritual health.
My final religion course I needed to graduate was my Eternal Families class. I tried faking my way through the semester with tear-filled eyes and a hurting heart, until certain questions were asked, or students would say things like being LGBTQ+ was similar to dealing with an addiction or eating disorder. I felt I had to be careful with what I said because I knew that if I fully admitted my thoughts or how I was living, I could get a nice little chat with the Honor Code Office. And that was frustrating. I'm not a bad person because of my choices, and I still believe in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I honestly feel the Spirit guiding me all the time. I feel Their presence in my life, through all those really good moments, and in those dark moments where I feel I'm completely alone. I've thanked my Father in Heaven for an opportunity to leave a toxic place, for helping me find myself, for His divine plan for me. I've felt His hand as I've embraced my sexuality and been on this new adventure in Salt Lake.
This decision didn't come easily. For an entire year, I've prayed to God for help on figuring out LGBTQ+ issues, on faith, on the church, and everything in between. I can't explain to you the hours I've spent crying and pleading to understand what was happening. I've asked what my real purpose is in life, why I'm bisexual, if it was okay for me to leave, and if there would still be a chance that I could make it to live with Him again. I have expressed so much anger and frustration, so much hurt to Him. In the middle of many nights I sobbed in my bed, asking Him to take it all away so I could just believe once more. I made deals. I tried reading my scriptures and praying and participating in church and going to the temple. I'd stare at photos from my mission and think, "What happened to me?" There have been countless sacred moments where He has wrapped His arms around me and told me I am okay, I am loved, and I am His daughter.
In a poem I wrote on one of these many sleepless nights in the last few weeks, I wrote this:
like youI woke up yesterday morning (let's be real... afternoon) remembering it was Good Friday. I reflected on what Easter really was about as I got ready for the rest of my day. As I made a necessary venture to the grocery store, I prayed to Heavenly Father. I told Him I wasn't sure if He would really accept the offer I was giving Him, but that I felt like I needed to participate in this event. I had to look past myself; this wasn't about an organization. I felt a lot of peace in that and am glad I participated, even if my participation looked a little different.
i just want a place in this world
to not be afraid
to have a home
a place where i sleep at night
knowing i am loved
where God holds me in His arms
and says
'I have always accepted you.'
Like I said at the end of my coming out post , there is too much evidence in a God that I cannot deny Him, nor His Son, or the Spirit. As I closed with in my final assignment for my Eternal Families class, "My relationship with Them is the only thing that keeps me going." It's what I hold onto. Elder Holland had me in tears as I reread his talk from this conference, "A Perfect Brightness of Hope." Despite the pain I've felt and the roller coaster of a year I've had, I still have hope.
I have hope that someday this whole thing will work itself out, that my sexuality and those of the LGBTQ+ community will find their rightful home in society and in religion. I have hope that, despite what seems like an "inactive" returned missionary, I will return to live with God and my Savior again. I have hope that I will still be able to stand before Him and say that I loved Him, I served Him, and I loved and served my neighbor.
I share this all with you today for a couple reasons. One is really because I don't want to feel like I'm pretending to be someone I'm not. Like that one day at that new member meeting, I can't keep it up. The other reason, and honestly the main reason, is because I want people to know they can step away if they need to. From anything. If it doesn't feel right, if it's hurting you too much, if it's not making you better, or whatever else, it's okay to stop and say, "This isn't for me." I've been afraid of saying that to anyone because telling people I hated BYU-I and had to get out of there is awkward enough. They don't get it, and I don't expect them to. But, it's okay to say it and do it. And you don't really have to explain those decisions to anyone if you don't want to. I just want people to know they're not alone. Also, I feel like I should note that I'm not encouraging anyone to leave the church. This stands as a general statement for stepping away from something, or even someone (this one is huge). We just don't need to feel guilty for our decisions. Like I said, and will always continue to say, we all have different paths. And God loves us through all of them and walks by our side if we let Him. He also knows us way better than we know ourselves, and that is why I definitely trust Him, because let me tell you, I've tried walking this path all on my own and it did not work out. I tried leaving behind my entire religion and gave up on my relationship with God. I was always confused. But as I've allowed Him back in, I know He holds my hand through this. I saw this little quote that said, "He left the 99 to find me." I'm a bisexual, Christian woman, living in Salt Lake, trying to graduate from BYU-I, dealing with COVID-19, mental health, and overall learning what my new life is. I cannot in anyway shape or form do this on my own. With Him I have faith things are going to be a-okay. Maybe I "left" an organization, but I didn't leave Him. And that's what's working for me.
We are not less than because we step back. This relates to anything. Like I said, this could be with people. As a teenager I realized there were people in my life who weren't making me better. I found myself constantly worried about what they would think of me, and I became someone I didn't like. So, I stepped away. And it was hard. Don't think these kinds of choices are ever easy. I cried to my mom that I was losing these friends. We both knew it was actually for the better, but it hurt because I still shared part of my life with them. And I think that's why it was hard for me to see this Worldwide Fast at first- I've had to find new footing in stepping away from organized religion. But sometimes it all needs to be done. So, don't worry about judgement (easier said than done, but we can at least try). Do the things in life that will make you healthier and happier.
Thank you, as always, for reading this. I love sharing my journey with you, I love hearing your thoughts, and I am deeply grateful for this outlet.
Stay safe, wash your hands, allow yourself to feel when you need to, and remember to have hope.
---Maggie
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