David, Iraq, Pioneers, and Being in the Same Boat

My apologies. This is going to be a very long post.

Church was actually quite excellent on Sunday. Generally, I’m so tired on Sunday mornings that if what’s going on isn’t holding my interest, I tend to doze off, but today I was pretty wide awake for most of the meetings.

I went to Primary first. I used to be a Primary teacher in my home ward (where I currently attend), and I loved it. I loved teaching the kids, and I loved how the gospel was taught at its most simple, basic level without all the tangents and frivolous stuff that, albeit interesting sometimes, isn’t always essential. Even though I’m no longer a Primary teacher, I still attend Primary in my home ward; one, because I like Primary a lot, and two, it isn’t Priesthood meeting, which I’ve never been a big fan of, mostly because I don’t feel I fit in and because 90% of the time, Priesthood instructors have seemed less than prepared, and my attitude is if they didn’t take the time to adequately prepare a lesson, I don’t want to waste my time listening to it of there is no thought or objective behind it.

During Primary I noticed two young boys being playful and affectionate with each other, and I thought, “Why does that seem to become a stigma later on? Why can’t men just be affectionate with each other?” In France and Belgium, where I served my mission, it’s no big deal for men to be affectionate with each other, and yet Western culture seems to frown on men being affectionate with each other or crying, and I’ve never really understood why. I think it’s sad in a way. I actually don’t think homosexuality would be that big of an issue if it weren’t so taboo. Nobody seems to care when women are all touchy-feely with one another, but if men do it, it’s looked on as something odd. And yet, you look at sports figures, for example, who are looked on as such a symbol of masculinity, and you see them slapping each other on the butt or hugging when their team wins, and nobody seems to care. I just find it interesting. I like men who aren’t afraid to be affectionate. Interestingly enough, some of the most openly affectionate men I know are some of the most heterosexual men I know. I find that interesting.

One of the songs we are singing in Primary right now is the 11th Article of Faith, which is “We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may,” and was thinking that as members of the Mormon Church, I don’t think we’re always so good at following this. I think we say we do, but we don’t always do it.

Sunday School was very interesting. A ward member who has been serving in Iraq just came home a week ago. It was really good to see him and know that he was safe. He and I don’t often agree politically, but he is a good man, and it was really good to see him. It had been a while since any of us had seen him, and he asked if anybody had any questions for him about the war. It was odd that we were talking about the Iraqi War in Sunday School, and yet it seemed strangely appropriate. I was just worried that it would get political or confrontational, which it didn’t. I have always been against the Iraqi War from the very beginning and feel more so each passing day. And yet as I listened to him talk, I felt my spirit open to his words. I’m still against the war, but what he said at least gave me a different spin on things, which was nice for a change.

He says he was really surprised by how much the media portrays the war as all “gloom and doom,” because, from his recent vantage point, things were different. He says most of the Iraqi people he’s dealt with on a personal basis are happy the US forces are there and are grateful for many of the things that have been done for them. That doesn’t mean there aren’t complaints, but overall, they are grateful for the American forces. He talked about providing solar energy for a school and building (and rebuilding, after it was bombed by insurgents) a water treatment plant for Iraqi civilians. I specifically asked him to tell me some positive things about the war since we get so much negative. He told me about the school and the water treatment plant, but also talked about simple things like the joy he saw in the faces of two different children, one who was given a lollipop, and had never tasted a piece of candy in his life, and another staring at a box of coloring crayons, which he had never seen before.

Somebody asked him what the morale of the troops was like, and he said it really depended where they were. He said where he was was “hell on earth,” but that the soldiers’ morale was pretty good, and that they were happy to be making a difference. He said in other areas where the fighting is especially bad, morale isn’t always so good.

He talked about the many poor, uneducated people there were in Iraq and how they felt they were helping them better their lives. He talked about how one of the problems is that the Sunnis and Shiites and other factions can’t agree on the democratic process. They even want it, but no one can agree on how to make it work so all sides are happy, and that until they choose to work together, the process isn’t going to work as well.

He talked about how the weather has been 145 degrees before, which I can’t even fathom. All in all, he was very positive about things, and even though I am still against the war, it was refreshing to hear another, more positive point-of-view for a change from somebody who’s actually been there. Of course, I’ve also heard negative things from two soldier friends of mine who are there, so I guess it depends on where you are, who you are, and your attitude. In any case, it was enlightening.

The teacher, a man I like and respect very much, was quite emotional today, both because this returned soldier is a very good friend of his and because the lesson seemed to touch him particularly (the teacher, not the soldier). The lesson was about David. For those of you who may not be familiar with the story of David, he slew Goliath and became a chosen king of God. However, he committed adultery and was responsible for the death of his mistresses' husband. The teacher asked which David we think of when we think about David. Do we think of the hero, the man who was loyal to God, or do we think about the fallen sinner? Do we think of the guy who spared Saul, his enemy’s life, or do we think of the guy who took Uriah, an innocent man’s life? “Do we emphasize the David who killed Goliath, or the David who killed Uriah? Should we view him as the servant who refused to lift his hand against the Lord’s anointed, or as the Lord’s anointed who lifted his hand against a faithful and loyal servant?” (Old Testament Student Manuel, pg. 287)

When my brother wrote to me after learning Jonah and I were together, he inferred that I could be like Joseph, who fled from the temptation of Potiphar’s wife, or David, who chose to linger and lust after Bathsheba, whom he eventually committed adultery with.

When I read the scriptures, I find I’m pretty mercifully-minded. I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. I feel sorry for people like David or Pilate or even Judas Iscariot, who made grave errors. And it isn’t that I believe the choices they made were right or that they won’t be punished for the evil things they may have done. It’s that I believe they were human and made human errors just as all of us are apt to do. I once gave a talk on the mercy of God. I think Mormons (and most other Christian religions) are really good at understanding the justice of God (thou shalt… or thou shalt not…), but the mercy of God sometimes escapes them. I am guilty of this as well. In my talk I gave four examples from each book of Mormon scripture (the Old Testament, the New Testament, the Book of Mormon, and the Doctrine and Covenants) about people who made mistakes but still received a great deal of mercy from the Lord. Rahab, from the Old Testament, was a harlot (a prostitute) who harbored the spies that the prophet Joshua sent to Jericho. When Jericho was eventually destroyed, only Rahab and her family were spared, and there is scriptural evidence that Rahab was in Jesus’ bloodline. In the New Testament, Peter denied Christ three times, and suffered much for it, but he eventually became the leader of the Church. In the Book of Mormon, Alma the Younger and the sons of Mosiah led many people away from the Church and did much wickedness, but after they repented, the sons of Mosiah became great missionaries and Alma became one of the greatest prophets of the Church. In the Doctrine and Covenants, Martin Harris was responsible for the loss of 116 pages translated by Joseph Smith from the gold plates, and yet he was eventually permitted by the Lord to be one of the three witnesses to actually see the gold plates. He and Oliver Cowdery as well as David Whitmer were all excommunicated from the LDS Church, but eventually the former two were rebaptized, and although David Whitmer never was, he never denied his testimony of the Church. I think that’s got to count for something, and I believe the Lord will show mercy. A prostitute’s life is spared, and it is through her line that the Savior comes; a man denies knowing Jesus because of fear (the same man who’s lack of faith caused him to sink in the same water Jesus walked on, the same man Jesus said, “Get thee behind me, Satan” to, the same man who was rebuked for not wanting to wash the Savior’s feet) and becomes one of the greatest prophets of the Church; a very wicked man who leads others astray is able to repent and becomes the President of the Church; a man responsible for the loss of holy scripture because of his pride is allowed a great privilege. Even David, who we are taught will not receive exaltation, is promised that “the Lord [will] not leave his soul in hell.” Why? Because He is a merciful God. When the woman taken in adultery was brought before Jesus and told she should be stoned, Jesus said, “He who is without sin cast the first stone,” and of course no one did because all men sin. That didn’t mean Jesus condoned the woman’s actions. He told her, “Go and sin no more.” But he was tender with her and forgiving. Jesus told us to forgive those who sin against us seventy times seven times. If we are to follow the example of our Savior in everything, and if he follows God’s example in everything, doesn’t it stand to reason that they would use the same criteria for themselves.? The point is I believe in a loving, forgiving, merciful God, and I think it‘s important to remember that. God knew we would make mistakes here. He knew we’d sin. Otherwise, why would we need a Savior at all?

But back to David. The fact is he has fallen short of exaltation. He has paid, and is paying the price, for the choices he made in his life. He paid the price in his mortal life and is paying the price in the afterlife. And yet, the question is, was David’s life a tragedy or a triumph? “If a triumph, why, then has ‘he fallen from his exaltation and lost ‘the greatest of all the gifts of God?’ If a tragedy, why is the Messiah prophesied to sit ‘upon the throne of David’ and be called ‘David their king’? Why are we told that Jesus shall receive ‘the throne of his father David’ and that he has ‘the key of David’?” (Old Testament Student Manuel, page 287)

One of the points the teacher made was that David made the mistake of not enduring. On the other hand, he also made the point that our experiences, good and bad, are what shape us, and that only God (and eventually David) truly know what David’s final reward or state will be.

I’ve said it before, but I just don’t believe that everything is so black and white. Perhaps I am wrong, but it is what I feel in my heart. I was thinking today that if I make the choice to live my life as a gay man, wherever I end up in the afterlife, there are going to be a lot of people there with me; a lot of really good people. And whether my actions are deemed good or bad, right or wrong, I feel in my heart that my intentions are based in love, not in selfishness, and I believe that has to count for something. And I also know that Heavenly Father must know how incredibly difficult things are for some of his children. He must understand even better than we do what each of us is individually going through, and that’s precisely why He is the only one qualified to judge any of us; because he knows the inner workings of our hearts. So it is with David.

The teacher brought up the point that Bruce R. McConkie brought up in Mormon Doctrine (pg. 520): “Murderers are forgiven eventually but only in the sense that all sins are forgiven except the sin against the Holy Ghost; they are not forgiven in the sense that celestial salvation is made available to them. After they have paid the full penalty for their crime, they shall go on to a telestial inheritance.” Now, granted, in the theology of my religion, a telestial glory is not what we should be shooting for, but the point I want to make is that it is still a degree of glory. Dallin H. Oaks gave a talk about the degrees of glory, which I quoted in an earlier post. The point is, it all goes back to forgiveness and mercy. God wants us to be happy. The fact that any of us are here in the mortal existence already bodes well for us. We followed the Lord and chose to come here. Maybe I’m rationalizing (I probably am), but I think things will be better for us in the afterlife than we sometimes imagine they will be. We all commit sins. We all make mistakes. We’re imperfect. God knows that. Sometimes you’ve just got to do the best you can do under the given circumstances and hope things will turn out all right.

After Sunday School we had Sacrament Meeting, and there were many signs posted up behind the podium that said things like, “Faith in every footstep,” “The best is yet to come,” “Be strong and do it,” “Lead me to the rock that is higher than I,” and “We shall walk and not faint.” I wondered if God was trying to tell me something.

The youth had gone on what is called “Pioneer Trek,” where they dress as the Mormon pioneers did and reenact just a small portion of what the Mormon pioneers went through as they walked across the plains from the east to the Utah valley. I’ve never been on a Pioneer Trek myself. I had opportunities to do so when I was younger, but was never interested. Hearing the youth and some of the leaders talk about their experiences was very uplifting and spiritual, and it’s been a while since a church meeting affected me so.

The first youth talked about how tired he was and also talked about the “Women’s Pull,” where the women had to pull handcarts full of stuff up a sandy, rocky hill, and the men could only watch without being able to help. It made me think of how sometimes our Heavenly Father has to watch us go through such tribulations without being able to help us. He could, but he doesn’t because he knows we have to go through that experience ourselves. It causes us to learn something about ourselves that we might not have otherwise learned had he intervened. Would Abraham have learned just how much he was willing to sacrifice for the Lord when God commanded him to sacrifice Isaac? I think the Lord knew Abraham was willing to go all the way, but it was Abraham who needed to learn that he was willing to go all the way. But I imagine it pains Heavenly Father and makes him cry as it did many of the helpless brothers who had to watch the women do this incredibly difficult thing without being allowed to aid them.

The second youth was a boy named Anthony who has just amazed me. His father is dead, I believe, and his mother is not active in the church, but Anthony has been coming to church on his own for many years now. My mom taught him in Primary when he started coming to church, and he has turned into a very dedicated young man. He talked about how he tried moving rocks out of the way during the “Women’s Pull” until he was eventually told not to because the objective was for the women to do it all on their own. But it told me a lot about Anthony’s character that he would do that (while some of the younger, more immature kids were doing the opposite) and made me think about what kind of people we are in life: obstacle makers or obstacle removers. Anthony also talked about how he became ill during the trek and how hard it was to move the handcarts as a result of his weakness

The third youth was a girl who kept a journal. These were some of the things she wrote during the trek: She talked about the many people who chose not to make the trek to Utah (or Zion) and the ones who did and made the statement about the pioneers “giving up so much to come to Zion” and the ones who remained behind “giving up so much more not to.” She made a comment about the physical endurance showing “our brain what our body can do.” She made the comment “We can’t do it alone.” She said during the “Women’s Pull” “I looked up the hill and doubt filled my heart.” She talked about the handcart slipping back and pushing the cart only to have it remain still. She talked about how she felt angels helping her and that “the load wasn’t easy but the burden was light,” and how “angels are always willing to help you if you give them a chance.” I thought about how her words could apply to our life here on earth. I think the Lord uses metaphors for life, one being treks through the wilderness (or across the sea), whether it be the modern day pioneers, Moses and his people, Nephi and his family, or the Jaredites. There are many parallels one can glean from the scriptures that can be applied to our life’s trials. But not everyone makes it in their trek (or even chooses to make the trek at all). The ones who stayed behind may not have made it to Utah, but does that necessarily mean they weren’t happy? Even Emma Smith, Joseph’s wife stayed behind. Does that mean she’ll be punished for that? Many died on the way. Does that mean they were somehow weaker or less worthy than the ones who survived?

The next speaker made the comment that these pioneers shouldn’t have lived. What they were required to do was nigh impossible. But they did it. I guess that says a lot about faith and the Lord supporting you. He showed a famous picture of the pioneers trekking through winter cold pushing their handcarts and how unseen angels were helping them accomplish it. A later speaker speculated that those angels helping the pioneers may very likely have been us. But it was hard thing they were asked to do, and some weren’t able to do it. In Matthew 7:14 it even says, “strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.” (Italics added). It struck me again how it must pain God to watch us suffer, but how we must go through our own experiences to learn and to know that our final reward will be exactly what we are supposed to get. This trek was incredibly difficult for these youth. Some couldn’t even do what they were required to do, and that was just a taste of what the original pioneers were required to do.

As these youth speakers and leaders talked of their experiences and later sang the hymn “Come, Come, Ye Saints (a hymn which is not my favorite, but which I saw in a completely different light on Sunday), you could really tell that they had been through something together that none of us in the congregation could fully understand unless we had been through it ourselves, and it occurred to me that you only can only truly understand the experiences you have because you have them yourself, and no one else can judge those experiences except for the Lord himself because he knows us perfectly, inside and out. It really clarified the concept of not judging others, if that makes sense. It reminded me of people who have been through a war together or a tragedy (such as the Andes airplane crash in 1972). Only they can really understand what they’ve been through. That’s why I feel like gay Mormons understand each other like no one else can. Other gay Christians can certainly relate, but it isn’t exactly the same, and, of course, each gay Mormon’s experience is different, so really, the bottom line is that only you and God can wholly know your true soul, intentions, desires, and progress.

Another girl talked about her handcart sinking in the sand, and how the cart wouldn’t move, and how she had to look at the ground to avoid looking at how much more of the hill she had to climb.

A boy talked about watching the “Women’s Pull” and crying and being afraid that the other guys would think he was a wuss and how surprised he was to see so many men crying, and again it struck me, “Why is it such a shameful thing for a man to cry?” I don’t believe it is consciously, but subconsciously I wonder if I do because I don’t often allow myself to cry in front of other people. It’s not something I do consciously. I just don’t cry in front of others very often.

Another boy talked about how know one can do it alone and how we all have to help each other, and how one needs to work beyond what they feel they’re capable of doing. It again resonated in me the parallels between the trek and our mortal “trek.”

A girl talked about finding strength inside her that she didn’t think she had and how the only thing that holds us back is us. She talked about how God loves us and believes in us, and how we need to trust in ourselves as he does. She talked about how sometimes we think we know more than God and are rebellious, and how he loves us just the same in spite of it. That’s a hard concept to grasp for me sometimes, that God loves everyone the same. For example, it’s hard to fathom that God loves Hitler as much as he loves Gordon B. Hinckley because they are both his children. Sometimes I catch myself believing that God loves me less when I commit grievous sins. I say I think He loves me just the same, but I sometimes feel I don’t believe it as I should. I just want to feel that regardless of the choices I make, God’s love will always be strong and present in my life. He has to love us the same, doesn’t he? I think the story of the Prodigal Son in the Bible is a good illustration of that. And I think that father loved his son just as much while he was sinning as he did when he repented and came home. He did because he was his son. I think as imperfect human beings (some who have one parent or another that doesn’t show them that love or who have people in their lives they can’t fathom loving that way), it’s a hard concept to grasp.

The final speaker talked about the reason the pioneers sacrificed so much was because they believed in Christ. He talked about how today’s challenges are different, but just as challenging, and how these people lost their lives physically, and how we face similar loss spiritually.

I thought about how my religion is like a marriage (and the scriptures even make that comparison) and how I’ve made certain covenants in this “marriage.” Being with Jonah would cause me to break those covenants. And, yet, at the same time, I don’t know that I am willing to sacrifice my love for Jonah for the Church. It’s so complicated. Ideally, I just would like to be Mormon and gay. But I can’t seem to have both. It’s a wonder Jonah isn’t sick of me yet. But he isn’t. He loves me that much. He also loves me enough that he’d be willing to let me go if he thought the Church is what would make me happy (although both of us would be terribly devastated by that). I’ve never experienced such a strong love in a relationship before, and I don’t know that I’m willing to let it go, consequences be damned. And maybe that says something about the choice I am faced with.

I read other blogs from people in similar positions, and it’s always back and forth, back and forth, and I yell at the screen: “Make up your mind already! Make a choice and do it!” And yet I’m fully aware that I am in the exact same boat. But I was reflecting the other day about how nice it is to be in the same boat with a lot of people. At least we’re all in the same boat and understand to some extent what each other is going through. And that is comforting.

It's funny, when the youth were singing "Come, Come, Ye Saints," they seemed so somber and serious and teary-eyed because of the experiences they shared together. I imagine the Pioneers sang it in a similar fashion. And yet the words go, "All is well. All is well." The song struck me in a profound way it never has before. I leave this entry with those words:

Come, come, ye Saints,no toil nor labor fear;
But with joy wend your way.
Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.
'Tis better far for us to strive
Our useless cares from us to drive;
Do this, and joy your hearts will swell-
All is well! All is well!

Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard?
'Tis not so; all is right.
Why should we think to earn a great reward
If we now shun the fight?
Gird up your loins; fresh courage take.
Our God will never us forsake;
And soon we'll have this tale to tell-
All is well! All is well!

We'll find the place which God for us prepared,
Far away in the West,
Where none shall come to hurt or make afraid;
There the Saints will be blessed.
We'll make the air with music ring,
Shout praises to our God and King;
Above the rest these words we'll tell-
All is well! All is well!

And should we die before our journey's through,
Happy day! All is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
With the just we shall dwell!
But if our lives are spared again
To see the Saints their rest obtain,
Oh, how we'll make this chorus swell-
All is well! All is well!

Recent Musings

I haven't posted in a bit, mostly because I don't really have much to say lately.
It looks like I'll be working in Utah this summer, which I have mixed feelings about. On the plus side I get to spend some time with my family, and I'll be performing, which, of course, is my ideal version of a job. On the other hand, I'm away from Jonah, and while I'm excited to work with some old friends again, the show I'm performing in is not necessarily the genre of theatre I'm most excited to be doing. But, who knows, maybe I'll have a good time. At least I'm acting, which I'm extremely grateful for.

I spent the day with Jonah yesterday. It was good to spend time with him. Like he says, this is good practice for us because our careers may very well cause us to be apart for indeterminate amounts of time. We both feel it will make our relationship stronger in many ways. The thing we are both extremely grateful for is how much we genuinely trust one another. I honesty don't give a second thought that Jonah's heart would stray away from me, and I'm sure he feels the same way about me.

Yesterday we napped in my bed, and it was just so nice to be held by him and to hold him. I just thought as I fell asleep in his arms, "What is so wrong about this?" We made out, and it got pretty hot and heavy, which was fun and exciting, but I'm still not ready to have sex yet. I guess my thing is since I still have one foot in my religion, I know that sex is the line I can't cross without risking excommunication from a church that I love and hold dear. I know it must seem ironic to some that I cherish so highly a religion that is not accepting of homosexual relationships, but I do. I really do. Just as much as my sexual preferences are a part of who I am so is the religion I was brought up in.

I've always promised myself that if I leave the LDS church that I will not become bitter or resentful towards it, like many people sometimes do. They feel the church has somehow wronged them or that they lost time devoted to a cause they no longer believe in or blame the church for their circumstances. I would contend that the Mormon church has afforded me some of the best qualities I have and some of the greatest opportunities and experiences I have known in my life. And I certainly do not feel that I have lost or wasted any time belonging to it. The circumstances of my life, both good and bad, have made me who I am and brought me to this point in my life, and if circumstances had been different, I may have never met Jonah, who has been such a blessing in my life. And, call me crazy, I still believe the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is God's true church on this earth. I simply have come to a point where I have tried my hardest to live according to its tenets, and I don't know that I have the faith to do so anymore. And I'm learning that maybe that's okay. I'm here to learn and be tested and to love, and I'm doing all that. What I have felt lately is that God loves me and wants me to live and wants me to experience, and nothing I do is going to change that.

We often have this human understanding of God and can't really understand the full magnitude of his love and mercy. We somehow feel (myself included) that if we make mistakes or if we fail in our human endeavors that God will be disappointed and not love us as much as he does someone else who we mistakenly perceive to be doing better than we are. Does that mean I don't believe that people will pay for the wrongs they have done and not repented of or that some people won't get a higher reward in the eternities than others? No. But I do believe God loves all of us with a love that we cannot even fathom and that he wants us to be happy more than anything else.

I just feel I'm at an odd place in my life where I'm discovering eternal truths in places I never expected to find them. I love my religion very, very much. It is a huge part of who I am, and there is so much good to be found there. There is also good to be found in other places, too, and I am finding some of that as well.

Recently on another blog I read some comments from someone I presume to be an active member of my church. He was snidely berating a fellow member for choosing to leave the church to more fully accept his being gay. As I read the comments, I was ashamed of his self-righteous, callous attitude and thought to myself, "Jesus wouldn't have dealt with his brother in this manner." Likewise, on the same blog, there was a letter from someone who had served as a bishop along with this man. While he still did not agree with this brother's decision, I found the tone of his letter to be much more loving. My brother wrote me a similar letter when I revealed my relationship with Jonah. We don't have to agree with people's decisions, but there is a much more Christ-like way to handle our disagreements than was evidenced in the comments section of this person's blog.

And the bottom line is each of us has to make our own decisions and do what we feel is best for us, and ultimately that decision is between us and God alone, and we will answer to Him and no one else. The Spirit whispers different things to different people. There are times lately when I feel the Spirit telling me things that on the surface seem contradictory to what I have been taught. But what I have to realize is that God sees the whole picture whereas we as humans only see parts, and sometimes what is best for us is not always to be found in your standard "Sunday School answers." God told us not to kill, but there are many examples in the scriptures where God commanded someone to kill for a higher purpose (Nephi killing Laban, for example, or the numerous holy wars in the Old Testament and Book of Mormon). God told Adam and Eve to multiply and replenish the earth, but he also told them not to eat from the tree of Knowledge, two seemingly contradictory commandments.

Perhaps I'm rationalizing or trying to justify my own actions. I'm not beyond admitting that. But all I'm saying is that what appears to be the cookie-cutter right answer for some may not work for others, and what God allows a person to do may actually have positive results even if it goes against the grain of what is expected.

I had a really interesting lunch with a friend of mine. I told her about Jonah and me, and she was very happy for us. When I met her seven years ago, she was an active member of the church married to an active husband with an active family. They were doing all the "right" things, but she was miserable. Her marriage was in trouble and she was not happy. She has since left the church and remarried a wonderful guy and has started a new business and adopted some new beliefs, and frankly, I've never seen her happier. I remember being sad when she left the church, but the more I saw how happy she was, the more I was confused by how leaving the church that was supposed to help her achieve a greater joy actually was bringing her more joy (in this life, at least). Like me, she holds no bitterness or anger towards the church. Life is what it is. Am I saying that her path is right for everybody? Not at all. But it seems to have worked out very well for her. Some people find what they need in their religion. Some don't and need to find it elsewhere. There are many questions and concerns that I have that I can't find answers to where I'm told they will be. I have done all the things I have been asked to do, and I'm simply not able to do what is required of me. There has to come a time when you say, "This just isn't working for me. Let me try something else." And perhaps in doing that thing, you will discover what brings you the most joy.

It is a hard thought to think about leaving the LDS church (although I know it will never leave me), but it may come to that. Not because I want to, but because I might have to. I truly have nothing but kind words for my religion. And I know that my relationship with God is still good no matter what I choose to do.

You know, I was thinking about how excited I am to be in this relationship with Jonah. I dawned on me that if Jonah were a woman, I could share this news with all my friends and they would be excited and happy for me. But because this is a homosexual relationship, I know there are some (not all, by any means) who will be saddened and disappointed by the news. And I thought, "What difference does it make what sex a person is?" All I know is I've found the person of my dreams, and I'm happy with him. I just wish all people could see the love and look past what they perceive to be a sin.

I'm getting better at doing that myself. I don't feel as guilty as I once did exploring these feelings I've never allowed myself to previously explore, and I think in time I'm going to realize that all the guilt and fear were needless and didn't come from God in the first place. I'm just glad I've taken everything at a slow, thoughtful pace and didn't rush into anything before I was ready to face it.

I hope all of you in blogland are well and that I haven't said anything to upset or offend anyway. This is just what I'm feeling lately.

Many Thoughts

This is likely to be a long post, so strap yourselves in for a while. I am currently reading The Misanthrope by Molière. I have read it before, but has been quite a while since I last read it, and I had forgotten about a monologue I like which somehow seems apropos. In case you aren’t familiar with The Misanthrope, I’ll set up the scene for you. It is a scene between two women who are supposedly friends, Arsinoé and Célimène. Arsinoé has a reputation for being pious and righteous, but Célimène knows that in fact Arsinoé is self-righteous, hypocritical, and somewhat vicious in her judgment of the other people. At the beginning of the scene Arsinoé berates Célimène in a supposedly kind and concerned manner for her (Célimène’s) faults. Célimène responds to this attack on her character in an equally sweet manner with the following monologue:

Madam, I haven’t taken you amiss;
I’m very much obliged to you for this;
And I’ll at once discharge the obligation
By telling you about your reputation.
You’ve been so friendly as to let me know
What certain people say of me, and so
I mean to follow your benign example
By offering you a somewhat similar sample.
The other day, I went to an affair
And found some most distinguished people there
Discussing piety, both false and true.
The conversation soon came round to you.
Alas! Your prudery and bustling zeal
Appeared to have a very slight appeal.
Your affectation of a grave demeanor,
Your endless talk of virtue and of honor,
The aptitude of your suspicious mind
For finding sin where there is none to find,
Your towering self-esteem, that pitying face
With which you contemplate the human race,
Your sermonizing and your sharp aspersions
On people’s pure and innocent diversions--
All these were mentioned, Madam, and, in fact,
Were roundly and concertedly attacked.
“What good,” they said, “are all these outward shows,
When everything belies her pious pose?
She prays incessantly; but then, they say,
She beats her maids and cheats them of their pay;
She shows her zeal in every holy place,
But still she’s vain enough to paint her face;
She holds that naked statues are immoral,
But with a naked man she’d have no quarrel.”
Of course, I said to everybody there
That they were being viciously unfair;
But still they were disposed to criticize you
And all agreed that someone should advise you
To leave the morals of the world alone,
And worry rather more about your own.
They felt that one’s self-knowledge should be great
Before one thinks of setting others straight;
That one should learn the art of living well
Before one threatens other men with hell,
And that the Church is best equipped, no doubt,
To guide our souls and root our vices out.
Madam, you’re too intelligent, I’m sure,
To think my motives anything but pure
In offering you this counsel--which I do
Out of a zealous interest in you.

It’s always bothered me that people use religion as an excuse to attack and judge other people, especially when the fact is, we are all human beings, and none of us is without sin, so who are any of us to judge anybody else? I figure I have enough problems of my own; I’ll leave the judging to God. I’m reminded of the stories in The Book of Mormon of the Zoramites who felt they were so pious, but were actually prideful, materialistic, and self-righteous; or the Pharisees in the New Testament who were so proud of themselves for so strictly following the commandments of God when in fact they were complete hypocrites. There are stories in all books of scripture of members of the church who are so busy judging and condemning others that they have lost sight of what religion is all about (and, of course, I’m primarily talking about Christian religions here). From my reading, Jesus Christ was very non-judgmental, compassionate, merciful, and full of love and charity, and when I read or hear about people using Christianity as a device of hate and judgment and condemnation, it really disturbs me because I don’t think that’s what Christianity is all about.

But I do think we’re all guilty of judging to some extent. I mean, that seems to be human nature. But I really do try to look for the good in people and not judge them because just as no one fully knows what it’s like to be in my shoes, I can’t fully comprehend what’s it’s like to be in anybody else’s. We all come from different backgrounds and different situations, and I think God will judge us based on our hearts even if we screw up from time to time. Heavenly Father knows we’re imperfect; that’s why we needed the Atonement of his perfect Son, because he knew we were human and would fall short.

I think so many people in many Christian religions, including mine, concentrate so much on the judgments of God that they forget how merciful he is, and I think that’s a huge thing to forget. But I do it, too, I know. There was a time in my life when I just felt guilty for every commandment I felt I wasn’t keeping and got down on myself because I wasn’t as perfect as I thought God expected me to be. Now, although I still do that to a much lesser extent, it has been made very clear to me that God loves me no matter what choices I make and that I’m supposed to make mistakes and allow myself to make them and learn from them. I mean, when I think about it, when I do things that disappoint my family, they may be disappointed, but that certainly doesn’t change their love for me, and if they, who are imperfect, can still love me in spite of my mistakes and frailties, then surely God, who is perfect, loves me no matter what, with an even deeper and more profound love than I can understand. And if friends and family members can forgive me for dumb mistakes, then surely God, who is perfect and has commanded all men to forgive, can forgive me for any wrongs I do.

I love my religion. I really do. And I believe my church, itself, is built on wonderful principles. But it is also filled with imperfect human beings, like myself, who don’t always do the right thing. All religions are that way, I suppose. In the last year or so I have become a bit disillusioned with organized religion. I don’t know that one has to attend a specific church to have a good relationship with God, and when I see some of the hypocrisy that comes out of certain religions, it disheartens me. I’ve known some atheists and homosexuals that are better Christians than some of the “Christians” I know. And these self-professed “Christians” are so busy attacking gay people and atheists and abortionists and what-have-you that I think they’re missing the point.

I see people like Gayle Ruzika, Chris Buttars, Dell Schanze (if you’re Utahn you’ll know who I’m talking about), Pat Robertson, Dr. Laura, etc. spewing ignorant nonsense, often in the name of Christianity; I see the double-standard of canceling showings of Brokeback Mountain or Transamerica while showing a violent piece of garbage like Hostel; I see local and federal legislators working on so-called “message bills” that would disban gay-straight alliances in schools or prevent gay couples from marrying or disallow the teaching of any sex-education but abstinence when there are big problems like health care or education or government corruption and mismanagement to deal with; I see people applauding a president for caring about the sanctity of life when thousands of people are dying because of mismanaged, unmerited war; I see Protestants and Catholics fighting, Jews and Muslims fighting; fundamentalists flying into buildings and killing thousands of people; religious leaders spewing messages of hate, and all in the name of God. It’s disheartening to me.

But, on the other hand, I see so much good in organized religion. I see people helping others, doing acts of service, being there for one another, trying the best they can to live good lives. But I don’t know that one necessarily needs organized religion to do that. That’s just people doing good. Still, I do like the fellowship that comes with organized religion.

For example, I like my ward (kind of like a parish, for those of you who don’t know Mormon terminology) very much. It’s actually one of the best wards I’ve ever been to. The people there are so kind and friendly, and I truly feel like they care about me and are concerned for me in a very genuine way. And my ward back home in Salt Lake City is terrific, too. And I enjoy being with people who share my faith and values.

There’s rarely any Sunday that passes by where I don’t have several ward members ask me how I’m doing or what I’m up to. Most of them call me by name, and I don’t always know who they even are or how they know my name. And they seem genuinely interested and concerned; it doesn’t feel like they’re doing it out of obligation (like I’ve experienced in other wards). My bishop shook my hand today and asked me how I was doing and what I was up to. It’s been a month since I’ve even been to church, and here’s this man being completely loving and genuine. I told him I was good, which is true. He asked if I was keeping busy, and I said yes, and he said that was good, it would keep me out of trouble. He just meant it as a joke, but I thought, “If he only knew the dilemma I’m in right now.” Then a guy from the singles group asked me if I was interested in joining them for a singles event. Fortunately, I won’t be able to because of school commitments (I’m kind of done with church singles activities). A woman asked me how school was going and said her daughter had seen my most recent show and enjoyed it We talked for a bit. I had a bunch of people shake my hand or just say hi. I enjoy that feeling of really being cared about by your fellow ward members. Would it were that way in all wards.

At the same time, though, I don’t always fit in. For example, I was in my ward today looking at my home teacher and his wife and their two kids or the couple in front of me with their three children, and I just thought, “That isn’t in my future.” I love kids very much, but I like them better if they’re somebody else’s. My religion is so big on temple marriage and family, and for much of my life those topics have just made me feel lonely and out of place because my religion’s idea of what makes a family is not necessarily the same as mine. When I would go to the temple (I haven’t been in almost two years), I would just feel out of place and lonely, and I would think, “Surely this isn’t what heaven is all about.” And sometimes when I go to church I just feel like I don’t always belong to the same flock. I often have more liberal view than some of my fellow Mormons (although I’m probably still quite conservative by the world’s standards), and sometimes I feel that what is in my heart (and I’m not just talking about homosexuality here) is not in complete line with what I’m being fed at church. Much of it is, of course, but there are other principles that just don't make sense to my heart. I'm not even saying they are wrong or right; they just don't always ring true.

But the irony is because of past experiences, I really do believe my church is the true church of God; I just feel I’m learning more and more that maybe I don’t have what it takes to live my religion fully, and that maybe that’s okay.

I was thinking yesterday about my relationship with Jonah, and how according to my religion, it’s “wrong.” I was walking on campus in such a happy mood because I thought to myself, “I’m in love. I have a boyfriend. I have somebody in my life that completes me (that sounds so gay (forgive the pun), but it was true).” But then there was the other part of me that just felt guilty. Not that Jonah and I have done anything wrong. But this relationship will not be sanctioned by my religion, and I have to figure out how to reconcile two entities I love very much. It’s a complicated road. In some ways, though, I feel the path I’ve been on was meant to go this way. I’ve always been kind of a half-hearted Mormon in some ways. I’ve believed in my religion, but haven’t always lived it as best as I could. And I also feel like I’ve tried very hard to do the things my church asked me to do, but my heart wasn’t always in it. And I feel like some of my greatest spiritual experiences didn’t come simply from my Mormon faith (although many have).

Jonah and I had a really good talk last night. We both declared our love for each other and even talked about how we really feel we’ve found a soul-mate in the other. We even talked about how we’d feel good being married to each other. I mean, we’ve essentially been dating for a year now (although we didn’t call it that) and have really gotten to know each other and have such a strong connection and friendship that I feel (as does he) that we’d be really good for each other. And if Jonah were a woman, it would be little problem for me to marry him in my church. But he’s not. And I now find myself questioning why it makes a difference. Why is it such a sin for two people of the same sex to love one another? It doesn’t make sense to me. It rarely has. And if God really does want me to live as my religion has asked me to, why does it seem so impossible and lonely to do so?

I was walking to the store yesterday, and I saw a homeless guy. It was quite chilly, and I tend to give money to the homeless. I was certainly cold, and he looked cold, and I proceeded to pull out all the spare change I had. It was only about a dollar fifty, and I apologized to him for not having very much, and he said, “Shit, man, you don’t have to be sorry. Every little bit helps. Thanks a lot.” He just seemed so grateful for my little pittance. It meant a lot to him. And as I left him, I cried, and I thought, “I’m a good person. I am. And so is Jonah. So where is the sin? We’re just two good people who love one another and want to be with another. What’s the big deal?”

I told Jonah last night, I just need time to process this all. This is all very new to me. Although I’ve dreamed about it, I’ve never actually allowed myself to act on my feelings for another man, and I’m still trying to figure out what this all means and what will bring me the greater happiness. Jonah, who also comes from a conservative Christian family, dealt with those issues long ago (although he still faces other challenges), so he understands what I'm going through, but doesn't feel guilty about our relationship the way I sometimes do. Fortunately, he’s very patient. But I can’t expect him to wait around forever while I make a decision, and frankly, I’m afraid if I wait too long, I might lose him, and that’s very troublesome. But Jonah understands my predicament (as best he can) and certainly doesn’t want me to rush into anything I’m not ready to rush into, so he’s willing to give me time. He’s been so good about it, and I really appreciate it. I’m just taking it one day at a time.

Now that Jonah knows about this blog, I catch myself wondering if I should censor any of my thoughts. But I’ve decided Jonah has always been very honest with me from the beginning, and I owe him the same courtesy. And since I’m not always as open as I would like to be, this is a good forum for complete honesty, I think.

I, unfortunately, have been having headaches lately. I know they’re due to stress because I rarely ever get headaches. I know Jonah will feel bad about that. He says over and over that he doesn’t want me to be stressed about all of this. It isn’t his fault. I just have a lot to think about and deal with. I’m just having a lot of conflicting feelings right now, and I’m sure it’s all just building up and giving me headaches.

You know, in the Mormon religion we’re taught that if we don’t live our lives they way we’re supposed to, we can’t be with our families in the eternities. We believe in three kingdoms, the Celestial (that’s where God lives and where we should be shooting for), the Terrestrial (Jesus rules that one), and the Telestial (the Holy Spirit governs that one). We’re told to strive to go to the Celestial Kingdom, but I’ve never really imagined that’s where I was going, nor did I feel I would be as happy going there as I would, say, the Terrestrial Kingdom, which is where I think most of the people I care about will end up and where I would probably be happiest. But from what I’ve read and heard in talks, all of the kingdoms are pretty good places to be. I’m paraphrasing this, but Joseph Smith (our first Latter-Day prophet) once said that if men knew how good the Telestial Kingdom (the lowest kingdom) was, they would kill themselves right now to be there. A modern-day apostle, Dallin H. Oaks, said in a talk, “The telestial kingdom…seems to me to be a precise description of the world’s concept of hell. The terrestrial kingdom seems to me to be a precise description of the world’s concept of heaven. The good people of the world will not be disappointed by the terrestrial kingdom. The bad people of the world will be utterly astonished to do as well as the telestial kingdom, for despite all of its relative drawbacks, it is a kingdom of glory reserved by a Father in Heaven who loves his children and ‘saves all the works of his hands.’” The fact that any of us are here on earth at all, according to the Mormon faith, already bodes well for us because we believe we chose to come here rather than follow Satan, so I feel our Father will reward us well and fairly based on our works. As for being with our families forever, I believe that anybody in the Celestial Kingdom can visit anybody in the lower kingdoms, and someone in the Terrestrial Kingdom can visit someone in the Telestial Kingdom, but not vice-versa. So I think if your family member ends up in a higher kingdom than you, that doesn’t mean you’ll never see them again. They can come visit you; you just can’t visit them. That’s not official Mormon doctrine; it’s just what I believe. And because I do believe I’m a good person, I believe I’ll end up where I will be happiest. God loves us all, and I think He wants all of us to be happy, and I feel like I’m learning every day that maybe my happiness lies more in my relationship with Jonah than it does with my church. That doesn’t mean I don’t still love my religion or that I don’t want to be involved in it anymore. Au contraire. But sometimes I feel like God is telling me that it’s okay to pursue this path with Jonah; that I have the free-agency to choose, and that the choice is mine to make, and that He will love me the same regardless. I may not receive all the rewards in the afterlife that He would like to give me, but I can still be very happy, both in this life and the next. Or maybe I’m just rationalizing. But it seems to me that in many ways, this path that Jonah and I are on together was intended and meant to be. I’m still working it out.

Sacrament Meeting was kind of dull today. In fact, one speaker prefaced his talk by saying that his wife thought he had been assigned one of the most boring topics ever. She wasn’t wrong; though, to his credit, he really did do his best to try and make it interesting. We had a great Sunday School lesson, on Joseph (of coat of many colors fame) which dealt a lot with trials and faith and forgiveness. I enjoyed it.

Last thought: I went and saw V for Vendetta last night with Jonah. I enjoyed it very much, though it disturbed me a bit because I felt some of the travesties portrayed in this movie’s future of 2020 weren’t terribly far from the possible truth of what might happen to us as a nation and world if we continue on the path some of us are on. But I thought it was worth seeing and certainly found it thought-provoking.

Well, if you’re still reading, my congratulations for sticking around. I told you it would be long.