My ward has been discussing a lot of tough issues this year and today's topic was polygamy. I got to speak and was overwhelmed by the supportive response I received. A lot of people could relate to my struggles and I think it's worth sharing here in case someone else can relate to it too. Knowing you're not alone always makes the burden lighter.
I was mostly raised in the church, my family and I joined the church when I was 8 years old. My parents had just gone through a divorce and our little family was feeling very vulnerable and unsure about what to do next. It was a difficult time for us, but we soon found unexpected hope. When my mom heard the missionaries and their message about eternal families and finding peace through Christ, it was exactly what our family needed to heal and start new lives. We began attending church and were struck immediately by the family bonds we witnessed and the great care and love everyone showed to each other. Especially us, total strangers. We connected to the hope of a strong family and began to experience a change in our home. We were soon baptized and were so happy to find a new family. With no priesthood leader at home, it was different, but we had devoted visiting and home teachers who helped us as we learned this new way of life. We felt like we won the lottery finding this new place. We loved our ward family and were welcomed with loving and supportive arms. There would be periods of inactivity that would follow- culturally it took us some time to carve out our own space within our new community. But by highschool I was very active in Young Women’s and my brother decided to serve a mission. That had a great impact on me.
Years later I made the decision to serve a mission as well and served in Palmyra, NY. I wouldn’t say I had a powerful testimony of the church at that point- but I had enough and I had an overwhelming desire to serve. And really I was hoping a mission would make the gospel real in my life. I believed in it and I was happy living it, but I didn’t really “know” like everyone else said they did. I always felt like I was missing something. I felt like they were on a different level and I wanted to get to that level. I still used those words “ I know” easily at testimony meetings despite having occasional doubts and questions. I thought a true believing member never had doubts. They didn’t come regularly, but when they did I always felt guilty and quickly pushed them away out of fear. Nevertheless, I was ready to serve and felt I could be useful in God’s hands.
Once I entered the MTC, I was thrown into a new level of dedication and commitment. I had never prayed, sang, studied and ate so much in my entire life. The inspiration and enlightenment that I was receiving was overwhelming. I almost couldn’t keep up with it- I was constantly writing notes and quotes and anything that made me feel the spirit. Most of what I was learning I had heard before, but not like that. The intensity created a new dimension for me. My testimony grew at warp speed and I was thrilled to be experiencing all of it. I couldn’t wait to get to New York and share what I was feeling. I was at a new level.
My mission proved to nurture the excitement I had to live and preach the gospel. It was definitely one of the most demanding experiences of my life, but the challenge made me grow and my heart reached what felt like at times capacity limits. I loved talking about the gospel with people and sharing my new found purpose. It was scary at first approaching strangers, but with practice I grew to easily open up and testify to people.
Serving in Palmyra, also gave me the unique opportunity to work at the church history sites almost daily. I had no prior knowledge of the beginnings of the church other than the simple story of Joseph going into a grove of trees and praying and then finding golden plates. I soon expanded that knowledge and was in awe of what I was learning. The small, but necessary details that took place in support of the restoration fit together almost perfectly to me. Learning about Joseph Smith and the miracles surrounding him fed my curious mind and I was always hungry for more. On top of that I was learning it all at the exact locations where they took place. I pondered the first vision as I sat in the Sacred Grove. I studied Joseph’s first visit with the Angel Moroni while sitting in the rebuilt log home over the exact spot of the original. I read about Joseph finding the golden plates and his yearly visits with Moroni while I sat on the Hill Cumorrah myself. While marveling the beautiful farmland that once belonged to the Whitmer family, I learned about the crucial aid the Whitmer’s provided Joseph and Oliver Cowdery while translating the Book of Mormon. My excitement was at a new level. It was thrilling. Church history became alive to me and I felt a connection that I hadn’t even considered before. I was getting in touch with my Mormon roots even though I had no ancestral connections. It became my history and I loved sharing it with anyone who would listen. At the sites, we gave tours to all kinds of people; families, teenagers, investigators, and non-members. We would give them the significant history of the site they were visiting, but my favorite part was always bearing my testimony at the end of every tour because I was finally able to say “I know”.
After my mission my dedication to the gospel was the center of my life. I had callings that allowed me to continue to feed my knowledge. Everything in life could be tied into the gospel. I no longer lived in two worlds like before my mission. The gospel was real. I soon married my sweet husband and was humbled and still am to have my own eternal family with him. Married life has proven to be funny. Two imperfect people trying to create a life together is nothing short of a comedy. Our marriage has fed my personal growth and like my mission, has allowed me to expand my heart and mind. A couple years into our marriage, Dave decided he should be a lawyer. He applied to just about every law school in the country and we finally decided on DC. So we picked up our lives and headed east. Moving across the country sparked a journey I could never have expected.
I don’t remember exactly how or when it started, but I noticed a disconnect between the church and I sometime before we moved out here. Questions that I had had before resurfaced and I wasn’t sure what to do with them. I loved the gospel and recognized everything good in my life was a result of it, but something was missing. The connection I once felt seemed to be fading. I ignored it though thinking I was just in a rut. Once we made the move to DC, my world turned upside down. I was no longer in my safe familiar home with family and friends and it magnified the insecurity I had been feeling to the max. I was so thrown off and felt like I had no grounding. This sudden change, that I wasn’t expecting to react strongly to, ignited a fire inside of me that I couldn’t calm. All of a sudden I started to question the deepest answers I had once claimed to know. Out of panic and desperation I began searching and reading anything I could find that might answer my questions. As I searched, I began to discover facts in our church history that I hadn’t encountered before. Let me be clear, nothing that I read was from an anti-mormon source. Bitterness and hatred have no validity in telling history. The information I discovered was carefully researched and verified by mostly believing mormon scholars. To my utter disappointment, the church history that I had learned was, in my opinion, a rosy version of what actually took place. The church history I learned left out the complexities of human nature and the weaknesses and errors that go with it. I felt a profound shock that shook me to the core. It was complete confusion. In the midst of my vulnerability the thought occurred to me “It might not be true.” I couldn’t handle that thought. I literally panicked. My poor husband was worried about me, but I didn’t know what to tell him. I didn’t know anything anymore. All I knew is that my old world was in question and I didn’t know if I could get back to it.
Polygamy was one of the subjects that caused and continues to cause me discomfort. I of course was well aware of the practice during the formative years of the church, but I never looked into the extent of it. I had no idea Joseph Smith was the one who introduced the practice as a principle. I always assumed it was Brigham Young who introduced polygamy since his name is practically synonymous with the word. Mormon Historian, Richard Bushman, explains in his Joseph Smith biography, “Rough Stone Rolling”, that Joseph had as many as 33 wives. The youngest being 14. 11 of those women were already married and with their husband’s consent were sealed to Joseph. That may have been old news to some of you, but to me these details were confusing and collided with the image I had of Joseph. In all my years of Sunday School, Sacrament meetings, Young Women and Relief Society lessons, even institute, why hadn’t any of this been brought up? This information was not discussed on a mainstream level within the Church.
It would be weeks before the anxiety left me after which I was left with a crumbled mess. I felt like I couldn’t even turn to God. I didn’t know if He was there. I can never adequately express the pain that caused me.
As time went on, the shock began to wore off. I continued church attendance and participated in my calling, but quietly I was dying inside. I wanted so bad to feel like I wasn’t the only one. But outside of my husband and a couple close friends, I didn’t know who else I could talk to. I certainly didn’t want to be the springboard for anyone else’s faith crisis and I didn’t want to be judged as someone who was on the path to apostasy. So quietly, I suffered and sometimes I cried. Yet despite the pain, I somehow knew that I would be ok.
It’s been 2 years since that initial crisis and I was right. I am ok. I’ve learned and grown a lot, but not in the way I had initially hoped. I thought the only way out of this was to come back to “I know the church is true.” Well, I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll ever know. And I have made peace with that uncertainty. Accepting that truth has allowed me to appreciate the complexity of our human experience. My life hasn’t been black and white so I don’t know why I ever expected my faith to be. My faith is no longer limited to what I think it should look like or what others say is ok. It’s about allowing myself to experience the beauty around me without placing expectations on them.
My once feared doubts and questions are now just misunderstood friends of mine. I used to quickly destroy any evidence of them as if I had done something wrong or shameful. Out of fear, I would stuff them into mental boxes that I labeled “You need to be more obedient” or “Not from God: DO NOT OPEN”. Operating from that place of fear was not from God, not the doubts themselves. I’ve stopped judging myself and am allowing the most vulnerable parts of me to have a voice. Now I look at my doubts and questions face to face with my arms extended and say “oh hello, let’s figure this out together.” Side by side, we’re moving forward. By showing myself compassion and kindness, I’ve opened a new space in my heart to show the same to others. Some of you may have already learned this. I’m coming late into the game, but I’m glad I’m here. I’m at a new level.
I’ve also learned that as a people, it is healthiest if we talk openly and freely about our history and the lessons learned along the way. There have been mistakes. And there have been corrections. And there are things that even the Brethren still don’t understand. But by ignoring the unsettling parts of our rich history as I was once guilty of, we are limiting our growth individually and as a church. Presenting faith promoting half truths is the opposite extreme of only selecting evidence that seeks to disprove Mormonism. Both approaches are unbalanced and manipulate the audience. A middle ground approach to our history allows us to have an authentic connection to our roots and gives us the chance to mature in our faith. Humanizing men like Joseph Smith takes nothing away from his contributions, but rather allows us to connect to him on an authentic level. When we see people as just that, people, we respond to them differently. God using people who make mistakes, even big ones? That’s something I can get behind.
This year, our ward has taken a great step in beginning the balanced dialogue we need more of. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never heard a talk over the pulpit directly addressing polygamy. Or the priesthood ban. Or the contradictions of women’s roles in the church. Hasn’t it been refreshing? Instead of shrinking away from sensitive topics, we have been and will continue to talk about them in an open and safe setting. I have personally benefited from hearing the different perspectives and ways people have dealt with their own struggles. That is where my hope lies.
Just as my little family did years ago, I now find myself carving out a new space for me in this church. At first I was afraid that there wouldn’t be room for someone like me. Someone who doesn’t know. But this is my church too. And I love it. There are frustrations, but I want to grow in it and continue to be challenged by it. The best advice I’ve received since going through this has been to “stay calm”. I’m not the first person to have concerns and I certainly won’t be the last. So I’m choosing to stay calm while I patiently study and contemplate my questions. I don’t expect to find all my answers, but I fully expect to continue to reach new levels of understanding.
Though difficult, I wouldn’t change my experience. I have been stretched mentally and emotionally in ways that I thought would break me. Yet here I stand, unbroken and able to share my most personal struggle with all of you. I have encountered grace and peace along the way and hope to continue to recognize them as they come. My faith is complicated and unresolved, but it’s mine and I’m happy to work through it. As I rebuild, I may come to different conclusions than some of you. But that’s the best part, we have the freedom to define our faith for ourselves. And I hope that no matter where we are on the faith spectrum, that this will always be the place where we uplift, love, and accept each other as brothers and sisters. You are my people. And I belong here.
