As promised, the second post in our “What Next” series is from the woman who essentially organized the whole thing: the Bloggernacle’s own New Order Mormon, Ann. I’m putting this post up a little bit earlier than planned because, well, you already know all about me — and what makes this series exciting to me is the opportunity to find out about the spiritual lives of people that we don’t necessarily know as well.
So, with no further preamble, Ann’s post follows.
Where have I been?
I am a convert. Twenty years ago, the missionaries tracted me out after I had made finding a church for my family a matter of prayer. Church membership was good for me. I quit drinking and drugging. I was, I think, very devout. I had a lot of faith, and I believed everything I was told, pretty much without question. My faith got me through the end of my marriage and the subsequent single parenthood. I eventually met and married a wonderful, faithful Latter-day Saint.
The story of how I lost my faith is not particularly unique or interesting. It probably has its roots in a combination of pride, disappointment, and noticing the man behind the curtain. Because I had taken everything I was told at face value, finding out the troublesome aspects of church history was devastating to me. That, combined with a personal disappointment where I felt God had let me down, led to an almost complete loss of belief in anything – the church, certainly; Jesus as Savior, somewhat; and even God as I had come to understand Him.
I see this loss of faith as a terrible accident. It was all my fault, and it never should have happened. In the accident, I lost my arm. Recognizing that it was my fault and it never should have happened doesn’t make any difference – I’m not getting my arm back.
Where am I now?
What I’ve lost:
o I think the Book of Mormon is a 19th century work of fiction.
o Joseph Smith had a vision, as did Jeremiah, Isaiah, and the Prophet Mohammed.
o I’m pretty sure that Joseph Smith’s vision doesn’t mean what the modern LDS church says it means.
o If there is a God, He (or She) calls whom He will, male or female, and whoever He calls has whatever authority they need to do whatever God requires of them. Authority is not vested in any institution.
o Ordinances are superfluous.
o Modern prophets are old guys in suits; smart, devout, and well-connected, with no more (or less) inkling of the will and mind of God than DKL, FMHLisa, or the late LDSMan. I have great respect for many smart, old guys.
I’ve kept some things. I like the idea of a pre-mortal existence and the eternal nature of the soul. I treasure the idea of eternity with my Dear Husband.
I’m not interested in convincing anyone else of the “rightness” of my ideas, in arguing about them, or defending them. That would make as much sense as arguing about or defending the “rightness” of getting drunk and driving my car into a tree, causing me to lose my arm. I’m not happy about this. But it is what it is.
I enjoy, mostly, my discourse on the Bloggernacle, and I’m involved on the New Order Mormon site – I maintain the website, and I’m a participant on the discussion board. But these activities don’t provide me with the kind of epiphanic experiences that I felt during my most believing times. I find myself drifting into snarky, secular cynicism. (How’s that for alliteration?)
What’s next?
My sense of “drifting” is probably caused, in part, by my recent exile. After Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast, I lived away from my home, and my home ward, for almost four months. I returned to find a ward half the size it was before I left. My bishop was released while I was gone. I feel the loss of Bishop Bruce keenly. Nothing is the same as it was six months ago, when I was planning crawfish boils and linger-longer potlucks. I’m disconnected from the local Saints, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to connect in any meaningful way under new regime.
I’m looking for a faith I can claim as mine. Faith used to be easy for me. Now, it’s a struggle. How do I reconnect with a being that I am no longer sure exists anywhere except in my mind?
My husband is a believing Saint. I love him very much. Our shared faith is what brought us together. Although we are both deeply committed to each other and our marriage, there is a gap there, where the shared faith used to be. That gap bothers me a lot. How can I bridge that gap?
When most people think of those who have “left” the church, they think of the less-active who are happily having coffee in the morning, wine with dinner, and shopping on Sundays. I have left the church as much as these folks have, yet I sit in a pew every Sunday. Some weeks, like my first week back in the home ward, all I want is out. Other weeks, I yearn to belong again.
RT and Serenity Valley’s podcast brought out that yearning. It was coupled with fear. Believing again would require a lot more of me than it did the first time. I don’t think I’m willing to work that hard, especially for something as ephemeral and, ultimately, unreliable as faith.
Isn’t there an easier way?


A Quaker friend of mine said yesterday: “There is a man or a woman that is supposed to lead us. Not only do we not know who it is, the person doesn’t know either.
“That’s alright eventually the spirit will make things clear.”
It’s a pleasure to read more about you Ann. I gravitate toward you and your posts on the bloggernacle. I think it’s because you make sense to me when others don’t and I’m in that same sort of “where do I belong” position, not being a true believer, but attached to Mormonism by circumstance nonetheless.
I’m looking forward to more of the “What Next” series.
By the way, first time poster here. I post more frequently at Feminist Mormon Housewives.
Great stuff, Ann.
I hope you are able to find a place in your changed ward. It is a shame that it is so hard for many just to find a place in Mormonism.
For some, faith is an ongoing celebration of living in the best of all possible churches. For others, faith is just hanging in there despite a string of rainy days, some of our own making, perhaps, but others entirely undeserved. I don’t think most celebrators really grasp the difficulties that hangers face. It’s nice you’re hanging in there, Ann.
Ann, what a wonderful post. I relate to so much of your story. I also was a drinker and gave up a lot of bad habits when I became active. Long story.
I find myself weary at this point in my life, not necessarily unbelieving, I don’t have a problem with the gospel’s incongruities, nor do I have a problem with those who do, BUT I am tired.
And I am sick and tired of a lot of people who talk the talk, but don’t walk the walk. In a way, I, like you, have left the church, but my body is still there.
Well, I didn’t leave, my brain is taking a vacation. A much needed one.
I recommend to you Reaching for the Invisible God by Philip Yancey. He’s not LDS, but he is a wonderful writer and thinker and he validated my crisis of faith in a wonderful way. His point is that truly faithful Christians almost always question, it is a sign of intellect and courage, rather than a sign of apostacy.
I don’t think the Lord gives a hot damn about your decisions regarding the gospel, I think He will work these things out in His time and for your individual good–and He still loves us when we question. I believe that more people are “worthy” than many Latter Day Saints suspect. I think some days, He, like I, wants to smack some people up the side of the head and say, “get over yourself.”
I applaud your honesty and courage. Good post.
By the by, I found this from a reference at T&S, I haven’t been here before (that I remember
, nice blog.
Excellent post, Ann. I, too, hope that you can find a place in the ward, even with the recent change in leadership.
Ann:
Good to read your stuff again, and glad to hear you’re back in LA.
Mike
Ann, you and I have both been posting on NOM for years. If I remember right, you used to analogize the evolution of your faith to just a regular old car wreck, and the point of the analogy was to say “this was unintentional but the effects of it cannot now be undone.” I like that analogy.
I am sad to see that you are now analogizing to a specific type of car wreck…a drunk driving wreck. It seems like adding the drunk driving aspect is adding a layer of self-blame, because people should know better than to drive drunk…are you saying you should have known better than to investigate troublesome aspects of church history?
You even say things like “it was all my fault.” As if you did something wrong or stupid in order to end up in the spiritual situation you’re in. I THINK NOT! I think it is depression talking when you blame yourself for things you couldn’t help, such as your change in testimony.
I truly believe that part of “growing up” spiritually is knowing when a myth is a myth. Even though it doesn’t feel like it, this is a step forward. Kind of like Adam and Eve fell, but they fell forward? You have more knowledge now, but you feel like you’re in the lone and dreary world. This is a necessary part of your personal journey, not something that “never should have happened.”
Ann, thanks for your post, which is, I think, wonderfully thoughtful and thought-provoking.
I’m provoked, in particular, by your final question, “Isn’t there an easier way?” Is disbelief easier than belief? Is leaving easier than staying? I’m not at all sure what the answer to these questions would be. From what I’ve seen, disbelief and departure from the LDS church is difficult and requires courage and commitment. But belief is difficult as well. Even more difficult, perhaps, is the middle way of sustaining some commitment and some connection while also accepting the reality of one’s doubts.
I don’t know; are there any easy ways forward for doubting Mormons? I’m not sure I’ve heard of any yet.
I also wonder whether an easy way forward is really what we should want. Perhaps it’s the Irish Catholic blood in me speaking, but is there maybe some virtue in going through difficulty?
Lots of interesting comments here. I didn’t reply earlier because I have a new job, and am trying to reduce surfing time during the day. It’s tough going!
I think it’s interesting that I’m not the only person who has had the kinds of experiences I’ve had. Annegb also had her life turned around through her activity in the church. RT and Serenity Valley have both been through their own faith crises, and have come out on the side of belief. I’m glad for them. I envy them.
Beijing, my old and dear friend, “it is all my fault” happens on a lot of different levels, for a lot of things. It is all my fault that I joined the church, too! It may not be a good turn of phrase, but I use it to show that I accept full responsibility for my loss of faith.
If I could see the church’s foundational stories as myths, I’d be in a much better place than I am. I’m trying to get to that point; I think it would be a positive turn. For a long time, I interpreted the correlated versions of the restoration as Pure Truth. When I realized that these version were (ahem) idealized, I boomaranged to the opposite POV - that they are Entirely Lies. I don’t think that perspective is any more realistic than the one I had for so long.
Seeing the stories as myths probably wouldn’t put me in the mainstream, but at least it would be possible to teach on a given Sunday. I had a call today asking me to substitute. It’s the first lesson in the Wilford Woodruff manual. I declined. I explained (I know, Beijing, never explain…) that I don’t teach, because it wouldn’t be ethical.
I think you may be right about the result being a net good, but I am reminded of a poem I read (in Dialogue? Sunstone?) about Eve picking berries, and the berries were delicious, but it was hot in the sun and she jabbed her finger on a thorn. She saw the blood and felt the sharp sting and said to herself, “Eden. Eden.”
Beijing said- “This is a necessary part of your personal journey, not something that “never should have happened.”
The church did a survey years ago and found that a surprisingly large percentage of members spend at least some time away from the church. I spent a few years away and when I came back I sometimes feared that if I ever missed a few weeks of church in a row, I might never go back. Maintaining faith is hard work. If there is an easy way, I don’t know what it is.
What keeps me here now is a combination of things. Probably most important is that I see faith as a choice that I am free to make. I don’t think God can or will force it on me. And second, where else would I go? Before returning to Mormonism, I considered and then rejected atheism or agnosticism and I considered and rejected Protestantism and Catholicism.
There are many other reasons why I stay, personal spiritual experiences and the like, but I don’t want to descend into giving unasked for advice. I just want to add my voice to the “faith is a journey” message.
I’m breaking up my comments into multiples, rather than dumping them all into one. It not only makes them more readable, it also makes the number of comments go up.
RT, I am afraid I am taking the easiest path I know, which is to participate in a “one-hour block.” I go to sacrament meeting, and then I go home. I participated more in my temporary ward during my recent exile, but that was mostly because I couldn’t leave my little boy at the building alone for two hours. I was surprised at what I found - interesting and engaging lessons, with thought-provoking ideas poking through some of the more rote responses. OK, so some of those thought-provoking ideas were mine, but they didn’t lead to any lead balloon moments; they got people talking and excited, which led them to make thought-provoking comments.
It was easier to do that there, because I had no investment in the community. I didn’t care if they thought I was a crank, because I was leaving in six weeks. It’s harder here. I live here.
So, I leave after sacrament meeting. That’s the easy way out. But it doesn’t get me anywhere.
I also want to clarify something that may give readers the wrong idea: my loss of faith pre-dates Hurricane Katrina by several years. The hurricane just brought to the forefront that I don’t have anything outside my family that I’m really part of any more. I felt (and feel) disconnected - from my community, and from God. As much as I miss Bishop Bruce, I think I miss God more. We used to be buds. Now, we hardly ever talk any more.
I’m working really hard at getting past the feeling that when I talk to God, I might as well be talking to myself. That’s a big hurdle.
C Jones said: Probably most important is that I see faith as a choice that I am free to make.
This is an intriguing comment. Is faith–or belief–really something we choose? Or are faith and belief (or disbelief) determined by our own unique personalities, experiences, culture, education, upbringing, etc.? In other words, do we choose our beliefs, or do they choose us?
Based on my own experiences, I believe that I can choose to want to believe. I can choose to seek spiritual experiences and make choices that are conducive to belief. I have, in fact, spent most of my 38 years trying to make those kinds of choices, and yet here I am, a non-believer.
How this happened is, frankly, a mystery to me. By all accounts, I should believe, I should have faith, but I just don’t. And right now, I don’t think it’s within my power to choose to believe the church is true any more than it’s within my power to choose to believe in alien abductions.
Of course, that’s just my current perspective based on my own personal experiences, and I’d love to hear more about your perspective on faith as a choice. Maybe I’ll learn something…
Thanks,
Square Peg
You know, Ann, you’re doing more than a lot of people who supposedly do believe.
Me, as soon as the visiting teaching convention’s over, I am getting some kind of illness and I’m taking a year off. Like I said, tired…
Square Peg-
I don’t think that I would only define faith as belief that the church is true. I would clarify that to mean that I have faith in God and Jesus Christ. The church is the instrument by which I gain a better understanding of deity (among many other things- I don’t want to get to far off track here.) But after pondering the alternatives, I did make a conscious choice to have faith in God, and then that resulted in other experiences that comfirmed that choice.
Ann-
It is always enlightening to hear other people’s experiences with faith and belief. I relate to so much of what you describe as your journey. I appreciated your comparison of losing faith in certain things to losing a limb. I too feel like there are many things I use to believe that I can never believe again and in a way it is very sad to me. I miss the security of trusting in a world that has in many ways crumbled for me.
I can’t, however, say that it never should have happened. I know that each person’s experience is unique and I am not saying mine is right, but it is mine. I have always trusted, and continue to trust God. He has guided my life and granted me his love whenever I have asked. Adam and Eve were told that they would learn through their experience. I have learned through my experience, while striving whole heartedly to follow God, that I am not sure if the church is right for me. I am still trying to find a way within the church, but know that if I decide to find a different path, God will still be with me as he always has.
Furthermore, I believe that an aspect of the atonement which richly blesses our lives is that we can feel gratitude for every part of our earthly experience, including the mistakes and sins. They are part of what makes us who we are. I don’t think we can separate gratitude for who we are, from the journey we took to get here. I don’t mean to preach, but maybe share a portion of the peace I have found in my walk here on earth.
I appreciate the metaphor. It is painful to loose an illusion. It is, however, also tremendously liberating.
Ann–
It’s a bummer that you no longer feel you can talk to God. Could you find your way to a very personal spirituality without the doctrines, dogmas, and practices of any particular institution, including the LDS Church?
Also, belief comes down to choice. My old supervisor (you know him) has lunch with a group of old friends every so often, and all of them were raised Catholic. One of those friends has become an atheist, and one time she pointed out that the notion of an almighty God descending to Earth and being killed on a cross is completely absurd, and asked how anybody could believe in it. My supervisor said, “yes, it is absurd, and I choose to believe it.” His view of Catholicism is very sophisticated and intellectual, but he understands that his faith begins with his choice to believe.
Ann,
Excellent post. I appreciate your story.
I’ve had a similar loss in faith. It was initially liberating, but eventually just left a void.
I think the most important thing for me was to still have a connection with God. I do think you can choose to believe - in whatever you want to believe. Some days may be easier than others to do it, but you can.
I found that as I was able to view God again as I did as a child (as a father who listens to me and loves me) and to have a belief in Christ again - I felt more comfortable again at church. Sometimes I even believe it. But, that isn’t my primary concern. Because church is only valuable if it brings me closer to God. It does now, but there was a time that it just frustrated me.
I know you need to just find your own way, your own path that works for you, but what worked for me was to concentrate on my belief in God and in Christ and not worry about the other stuff.
Good luck. I hope you find some peace.
I am wondering if he would make the same choice if he had been socialized in a different religion. I suspect that the need to believe stems from the need to satisfy our socialization. That’s legitimate. The problem is all the stuff one ends up supporting by implication of one’s religious activity.
I’ve enjoyed all these comments and insights. Randy, I still have your CDs and workbook sitting on the filing cabinet; maybe it’s an approach that will work for me.
As far as not being able to talk to God: I’m working on it. My best friend is confident that when he talks to God, somebody is listening. I trust him a lot, so I’m going to take his word for it, for a start. And I’m mostly asking God to help me understand that I’m not talking to myself.
I do agree, to some extent, that we can choose our belief. However, I don’t want to believe a lie. Believing with all my heart that there is a God simply does not make it so. And vice versa: fearing that when I talk to God, there’s nobody there listening doesn’t make that true, either.
Maybe hope is a good start.
Ann, I agree; hope is a good start. Anyway, even false hope is perhaps better than despair. For whatever it might be worth, Serenity and I will be praying that you find a personally satisfying resolution to your spiritual quest. So, if God is imaginary, you have our best wishes. And if not, then our prayers…
Ann–I, too, have enjoyed your posts. Check out Prayers from an Unbeliever by Julia Cameron.
Thank you for this post. Reading real stories from a person’sown personal biography is a learning experience.
I appreciate the honesty and I appreciate the truth that you portrayed in your story.
I can understand your loss of faith. The experience of faith loss is something that I have known for many years.
I lost my faith at the age of 19 when I became a diabetic. I know that it was a stupid thing to lose my faith over but before that crisis I lived in a bubble. I am now serveral decades older but still cannot seem to find faith in god. I wish I could though. I attend church and have two beautiful active daughter. I am divorced.
During my marriage I did what you did…only attended sacrament and then I went for a two hour walk around town…being back to pick up my wife and children. I can’t say that I have changed much since then.
But at times I do attend sunday school and priesthood. I sit there and make my comments. And yes discussions follow. I have found it to be a good experience when I have done so. But I do wish that I had my faith back…
I have attended the church of my ancestors, the catholic church…I light candles for my mother and father…I watch the candles burn when I sit in the pew and I smell the incense inside the church if a mass has just ended. Perhaps I want to see and smell god in the symbols that surrond me. I don’t know…and yet I still go to my sacrament meeting and sometimes sunday school and priesthood.
I have become a rather deep person and an inner person with a rich inner life. Perhaps it is because my life is filled with reflection and observation. And I do enjoy reading a good biography about a writer or poet who once lived as I now also live on this planet called earth.
I wish you well, Ann!
Wonderful essay, Ann. And thanks for the kind words. I’m flattered to be mentioned in the same breath with modern prophets and FMHLisa.
I’m aware that there is a full range of opinions out there, but it’s sometimes striking to hear individuals express their opinions in earnest. I’ve read your post a few times now, and I’m impressed by the candor with which you describe how Mormonism does and does not resonate with you. I hope you’re able to re-discover the connection you had before your recent displacement.