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?