I loved that. I had seen it making the rounds, and had put it off.

I think I liked it because he wrote it accurately, warts and all. Those experiences on the youth trip? While I might not have struggled with disbelief or unbelief like he did, I do remember seeing others think the same thing. I do remember seeing others stand on the proverbial rock, tears in their face, trying to comprehend what was going on.

I really, really, really liked that.

Amazing story by Walter Kirn, which is not really surprising because he is an amazing writer. The stories from youth trips resonated particularly accurately for me, especially the making out in the back of the bus part. The funny part, to me, is that he continues to resist the pull of the Church even though he clearly still believes in some part of himself. I love his story, but more than anything I love his writing.

I’d never heard of him before somebody posted a link to this on Facebook. Yes, well written. We hear a lot from former Mormons who hate the church, but there are Mormons out there who feel a bit wistful.

I think it’s more than a bit wistful. And I think it’s also true that a lot of former mormons use doctrinal issues as cover for the real reasons they left. Kirn is just the only one that’s honest enough to say so. This part is so honest that it’s heartbreaking, and just masterful writing:

What finally separated me from the Church was a loss of nerve, not a crisis of belief. My time in the ward had shown me at close range that God doesn’t work in mysterious ways at all, but by enlisting assistants on the ground. I saw sick people healed through the laying on of hands, not suddenly and magically, but gradually, from the comfort that comes of feeling the group’s concern. I’d heard inspired messages spoken in common English, sometimes from my own excited lips. This proximity to the sacred scared me off. Too much responsibility, it felt like. Too much pressure to side with the miraculous, which places demands on a busy, modern person. You sit down on a plane beside a gloomy lawyer who’s cursing himself under his breath, and instead of ignoring him and reading a book, you have to ask his name and offer solace.

My stated excuse for sneaking away from Mormonism was skepticism about its doctrines, but I’d learned that most Mormons don’t grasp all the teachings of Joseph Smith—nor do they credit all the ones they do grasp. After the bus trip to Eden, holy Missouri never came up again in conversation. As for the future temple in Independence, I found out that the spot where Smith said it would rise belonged to a Mormon splinter sect with a U.S. membership of about 1,000. The “sacred underwear”? It was underwear. Everyone wears it, so why not make it sacred? Why not make everything sacred? It is, in some ways. And most sacred of all are people, not wondrous stories, whose job is to help people feel their sacredness. Sometimes the stories don’t work, or they stop working. Forget about them; find others. Revise. Refocus. A church is the people in it, and their errors. The errors they make while striving to get things right.

But I didn’t have the patience, or the humility. I wasn’t a son of stubborn pioneers. I was the son of the lawyer on the plane who’d suffered the breakdown I thought I could avoid. I left the Church as abruptly as I’d entered it. No formalities, no apologies, no goodbyes.

What one of us hasn’t felt that at one time or another? And even if you are a descendent of pioneers, as I am, who doesn’t sometimes feel that as a burden as much as a benefit? Just being a good member is a difficult job. If it wasn’t for the actual, literal, impetus and help that the Spirit of God provides, I’m not sure any of us could or would be able to do it. I’m sure I couldn’t. In the end, it was probably Kirn’s inability or unwillingness to draw on that help that led him to leave, and I think that’s the most common real reason for leaving, whatever the stated reason might be.

I can identify with his line “This proximity to the sacred scared me off.”

But the rest of his piece sounds to me like he didn’t accept the miraculousness of the church, as if he wanted to have a Parker/Stone (South Park) view that “Yeah, their beliefs are crazy, but they’re good people doing good things.”

It’s as if he is sort of willing to play the Mormon game, but he doesn’t want to drink the Kool-Aid.

Well, yeah, and more than that. We have a right to call on the guy who said:

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is aeasy, and my burden is light.

We can ask him to prove it. I believe he will.

Book, I don’t mean to intrude on your privacy and wasn’t asking why you left the church. But my understanding has been that you hadn’t re-joined the church by your own decision. You could benefit us more from within, it seems. Without going into deeply personal matters, is there anything in Kirn’s (and others) decision not to re-join that resonates in you?

I’ve never been able to relate to the fear of success concept. My sister quotes Marianne Williamson, something to the effect that our greatest fear is being powerful. For me, not so much. That’s a whole other blog post.

I’m going to take your response to mean that you have not chosen to turn your back on the church, for whatever reason. Walter Kirn, while writing so beautifully about us, has. I suppose that’s not politically correct and also kind of goes against my disdain for exclusion. But it’s clear he has made a choice.

I’m not at a place of inner peace and understanding of all the (sometimes) chaotic discussion about NOM’s and the other highly charged issues regarding the behavior of church leaders, but I believe I’m experiencing a re-commitment to the church, warts and all.

One can think very highly of Catholicism and have Catholic friends who one loves, admires and respects, and still not be a Catholic by choice. For whatever reason. I absolutely love the Presbyterians and feel comfortable in their chapel. I feel God there, but I’m not joining their church because I do not want to, based on my own spiritual needs.

While the church and I have had a rocky relationship, the sad truth is I can say that pretty much across the board with every experience in my life. So, even though (sigh) a woman gave the closing prayer today and even though I chafe at many things, it’s for me.

I’m going to assume that you have made a similar choice.

I loved this! Thanks for posting it Devyn.