Continuing our series on survivors of crises of faith, we’re proud to present an essay from Ned Flanders. Ned is well-known in the blog world, both for his genial personality and his insightful writing. Here, we get a chance to understand his journey in a more comprehensive way. Let me thank Ned in advance for his candor and care in preparing this short essay.
“Ned, have you thought about one of the other major religions? They’re all pretty much the same.”
–Reverend Lovejoy
The story of my falling away is two-parted. I had a disastrous mission. Not for me personally, I enjoyed quite a lot of it. But it killed my future in the church. I went on a mission because that’s what Mormon boys do. If you don’t have a testimony, two hard years of missionary work will give you one. Well, that’s the theory, anyway. I tried hard. I got up at ungodly hours and read the scriptures. I fasted when I had no business fasting; I went out and tracted when I could barely stand up. I threw up on dirt roads. Once I was so sick that I had to squat in the street to catch my breath. More Argentines approached me that day than in the rest of my mission combined. “Are you okay?” “Do you need a doctor?” The irony that strangers were more concerned about my well-being than my companion was not lost on me. I thought that the Lord would bless me for hurting myself for him; we all did. I gradually came to realize that, no matter how hard the mission tried to conflate the two, the Church and God were not one and the same.
I came home, gave the usual homecoming talk, and went back to college. I went to church twice after my homecoming. I’d seen too much on the mission, I was burnt out on church stuff, and I’d never received the testimony I was promised. Halfway through my mission, Elders were already joking with me how I’d be inactive when I got home. They were right.
I remained a half-believing unbeliever for six years, glimpsing the missionaries on the street occasionally, but never wanting to contact them.
Once I finally got married, the ward people started coming around. In retrospect, it’s pretty obvious that my parents tipped off the church as to my whereabouts. I started reading Times & Seasons, and I started my own Mormon-themed blog about how I was a cultural Mormon who hated the culture. I’d never seriously looked at my belief before, but the bloggernacle and its various debates forced me to look a bit closer.
Unfortunately, I didn’t like what I found. Polyandry. Extensive polygamy by Joseph, not just Brigham. Lying about polygamy to anyone and everyone. Zelph. Onandagus. Fanny Alger. Temple death oaths. Book of Abraham. Mark E. Petersen. Ezra Taft Benson. Little factories. Journal of Discourses. Miracle of Forgiveness. Proposition 22. Oh my.
All of this stuff was bad, and I felt that my non-existent testimony was dying a death by a thousand cuts. It wasn’t just one issue. Everywhere you turned there was stuff jumping out of the woodwork.
The Book of Abraham was the final nail in the coffin of my faith. Perhaps we are missing parts of the papyrus that Joseph translated from, but the facsimiles are right there, printed up in our triple combination. They are undeniable, and they don’t mean anything like Joseph said they did. They don’t even come from remotely the right time-frame either. I just couldn’t ignore this evidence. Either the entire field of Egyptology was making stuff up, or Joseph was. I felt stupid that I didn’t see it for so long. It was over. Santa isn’t real and reindeer can’t fly. There’s no going back to the days of excitement and anticipation, as fun as they might have been, leaving cookies and a glass of milk out on Christmas Eve.
Once Mormonism had come apart in my hands, I naturally began to examine my stronger, if more nebulous, faith in Jesus Christ. The New Testament had always had some great lessons in forgiveness even if some of the epistles of Paul were way out there. Surely I could at least retain my faith in Jesus?
I think I discovered why so many ex-Mormons become agnostics or atheists. If you apply the same critical lens to Christianity, there isn’t a lot left. Was there a historical Jesus? Probably, but we don’t have any definitive statements of his, just internally inconsistent records made scores of years after his death. Few books in the Bible were actually written by the people they claim, and what books were included were gathered arbitrarily. How can you have faith in a Bible that is so random? I want to be a Christian, but I just don’t see how we can reconcile the haphazard way the Bible came together with a God who cares that we follow its garbled message
I find great comfort in the gospel of Jesus Christ as it is recorded in the New Testament, though I suspect that it is just a nice story. It’s still a great and admirable way to live your life. I want my kids to know this and be like Jesus Christ, whether or not he was a real person. But I want them to have that and none of the modern accoutrements of Christianity, like intolerance, close-mindedness, or clannishness.
Is there anything after this life? I doubt it, but I am too terrified to think about it much. I only know that this life is too short to waste massive amounts of time on something that doesn’t make you happy, something that only makes you feel inadequate and guilty. Are we laying our treasures up in heaven or are we immolating ourselves on a bonfire of self-hatred?
God is love. I don’t know if God actually exists, but if he does, I know he loves us all. Homosexuals, African-Americans, ex-Mormons, and women. He wants us all to be happy. And I refuse to believe in a God who created us to hate ourselves. If that damns me to hell, so be it.
I’ll have a lot of good company there, though I doubt it exists.
Ned Flanders


Ned is living proof that a mature mind can in fact be freed from the matrix without damaging or destroying it. There is hope for myself and the rest of us. Thanks, Ned.
Amen.
And it’s in this moment of greatest personal loss that the wonders of life can first be glimpsed…in case anyone was wondering what the point in living would be.
If I had gone to Argentina then your story could have been mine, Ned. Thanks for sharing it.
I can remain loyal to the idea of Jesus because that does not require me to dump on vulnerable minorities. More generally, my children and I can be Christians and nobody preaches: “Do anything that I tell you.”
Jesus only requires faith. Mormonism requires knowledge. And the knowledge comes with power claims, . . .
. . . which are promptly abused.
I’ve met Ned and I can vouch for his basic goodness. And for his love of English soccer. But Ned, what are “Little factories”?
I’m guessing that “little factories” is a reference to male reproductive organs…from BKP “To Young Men Only“
Ned, which mission in Argentina were you in? I served in Rosario.
Ned, I agree that the same kinds of difficulties that arise in the Book of Mormon, particularly, and the Mormon tradition, more generally, also arise with respect to the Bible and Christianity. Anyone who’s ever worried about populations and distances in the Book of Mormon would love the 19th-century Biblical debate over the population of the children of Israel at the time of the Exodus. According to a few statements in the Bible, the number of Israelite men over 25 was about 600,000 — leading to a total Israelite population size of about 2.5 million. Since Israelites were required by Mosaic law to relieve themselves outside the boundaries of the camp of Israel, those living near the center of the camp of 2.5 million would have been forced to walk 6 miles each way to use the bathroom. By the time they returned, I suppose they would have had to instantly leave again.
These problems could be multiplied indefinitely. Just like the textual difficulties in the Book of Mormon.
But these intellectual issues don’t speak to the central reasons I’m religious. My desire for God and the divine doesn’t come from the Bible or the Book of Mormon. Indeed, that desire is entirely extra-rational.
I wonder from your post if you’ve perhaps never had that desire? Please understand that this question conveys no judgment; it’s hard for me to understand why I do desire a connection with God, so it’s impossible for me to hold anyone else responsible for not sharing that desire. Instead, I’m asking from a desire to more fully understand your experience.
When I first peeked my head into the Bloggernacle, I thought it would be as marginalizing as church, but there are many voices here and it is nice to feel connected somehow with my heritage. So thank you to those of you on the fringes: Ned, Ann, Beijing, Hellmut, R.T. etc.
Oh boy. Sometimes it feels like you need to have a “believer” gene in order to believe despite all the evidence. Some people have it, some people don’t. As a born in the church member, I tried to believe but I had one of those flashpoint moments (Pre-1990 temple endowment with Blood Oath in the temple–uggg..) and trying to believe was just no longer good enough. I couldn’t pretend anymore just to fit in.
Polyandry. Extensive polygamy by Joseph, not just Brigham. Lying about polygamy to anyone and everyone. Zelph. Onandagus. Fanny Alger. Temple death oaths. Book of Abraham. Mark E. Petersen. Ezra Taft Benson. Little factories. Journal of Discourses. Miracle of Forgiveness. Proposition 22…
LOL Ned! My mother wanted to know why I was no longer her believing daughter and my list looks alomst word for word like yours. I even threw in the “little factories” analogy and when my mom asked what that was and I told her she turned beet red. I’m sure she realized then I was a lost cause! You just don’t talk about those things with my mom. ;-D
Ned,
Thanks for opening up. I just wish to say that I was a sensitive senior companion to the ones who didn’t want to be there and wanted to go home. I even took one of my companions to the beach because he missed it so much. I figured if I didn’t get along with him, and he desired no serious sin, then I could cut him some slack for the sake of getting along and doing good work. So I hear your mission pain, man. I only wish you had more sensitive and loving companionships.
RT, brilliant as always. I have found in my spiritual journey that most people don’t bail Mormonism for intellectual reasons (most, not all). There’s usually some sort of something else going on. Depression? Porn? Parking tickets? Maybe it’s little factories. I don’t know.
I have not visited this site very often. It sounds like a lot of the regular visitors here feel like Ned. Out of curiosity, what do you think of those of us who have studied most if not all of the “troubling” aspects of LDS Church history, and still believe. Do you ever wonder how we do it? How we could really wrestle with these facts and still believe in Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, etc? I am being as honest and sincere with myself as I can be, and yet I believe. I do not believe it is solely out of some psychological need for God. After all, I am more interested in truth, I could find another way to deal with the need just as non-believers do.
Yet, I do believe. I am very close to having a PhD in Clinical Psychology. I am familiar with studies that have been conducted looking into the biological substrate of what some interpret as spiritual feelings. Yet, knowing all of this, I still believe. I am sure each of your answers may differ, but why do you think Mormons like me believe despite all that we have become familiar with?
Ned: I find great comfort in the gospel of Jesus Christ as it is recorded in the New Testament, though I suspect that it is just a nice story. It’s still a great and admirable way to live your life. I want my kids to know this and be like Jesus Christ, whether or not he was a real person.
Why?
Why do you find comfort in it? What is it inside you that whispers peace about it? Why would you want your little children to be like this person Jesus Christ?
Is that the tiny flicker of inspiration from God? Is there still some of that still small voice pointing you toward Truth?
Is the coffin on your faith in Christ (and his restored church) really permanently nailed shut? Is God dead for you?
It sounds to me like there is still something about Jesus Christ that still draws you… draws you enough to give some comfort… enough to want it for your precious children (to be).
Isn’t that a start for your personal relationship with God? Either he is real or he is not. Either he can tell you he exists or he cannot. If he cannot then what is that comfort you feel? What is that deep inner voice that tells you this would be something good for your own little ones?
A couple of quick further comments.
David J., you might be right; I’m obviously no kind of expert on why people leave the church. However, I’ve been told by some friends who have left the church that the idea that their leaving is necessarily due to sin can be hurtful to people who feel compelled by their beliefs, consciences, or intellects to leave. A good friend of mine from college has actually written an online essay on this subject. In any case, my question to Ned was meant more as a way of exploring the evident differences between our approaches to, and needs for, religion even when he was an active member. So I’m not meaning to imply that he had sinned in some way. Instead, I’m wondering if he perhaps had never felt driven emotionally or spiritually or whatever to find God in the way that I have been and am. (Which, as I mentioned above, is something that I would have a hard time describing as a sin or mistake — I don’t know why I need God, so I don’t know whether people have a choice in the matter.)
Enochville, thanks for your remarks. Not everybody here is a doubter, as Geoff J.’s remarks should make clear. Furthermore, not all doubters are disbelievers. I’m a person with doubt who is also a believer and a fully active member. I don’t hide the fact that there are parts of Mormon history and doctrine that cause me difficulties, but I desperately want to keep the things that seem good and true. I feel that God wants me to do this, that He wants me as a Mormon. But I also feel strongly that God knows me, and loves and accepts me, doubts, skepticism, faith, and all.
I hope that there’s a place in God’s heaven for people like Ned, and people like me.
Enochville, I’m married to a guy like that, and I think he’s really hot. (I bet he’s lurking. Hi, honey!)
I think in his case, it’s a matter of synthesizing all the more interesting stuff right along with seminary. If you learn the complexities of church history and origins all along, it’s not so dismaying.
I also think an ability to compartmentalize is helpful. There’s history, and then there’s the restoration, and while the restoration is a historical occurence, history restoration.
How long ago was it, Ned, that I called you the opposite of a NOM - A NOM is somebody who doesn’t believe but still goes, and you are somebody who believes but doesn’t go. Time flies!
I enjoyed reading your story. The thought of Elder Flanders coming near to passing out in the streets of Argentina is very unsettling.
One thing I notice in your post and mine is an absence of “blame.” It’s not like we can point to one thing and say, “That’s it! That’s why I fell away!” I wonder if the MUL that people leave because of sin is just a desire to simplify an issue that’s not simple at all: Why do people stop believing? Why do they leave?
(In the post above, that’s supposed to be a not equal symbol between history and restoration. I keep forgetting those don’t work in html.)
Ned, if hell doesn’t exist, I’m sure Mormons in the hereafter will help build it for you. They’ll send out a few chainsaw brigades, set up some sturdy barriers to keep the Saints from straying in, fire up some high-powered furnaces, and find you some hell-mates. Mormons are great with buildings and community. Remember, eternal punishment is simply God’s punishment; it isn’t really eternal. Once the thunderbolts are over and the dust settles, Mormon hell will be a pretty nice place.
It’s been noted before, but not yet in this thread. Sometimes people leave because the church isn’t “home” anymore. So much of the Book of Mormon talks about the communities that believers establish, and when believers are excluded from that community it feels like a betrayal of that faith–by the church, maybe even by God himself.
Ned,
As always I appreciate your honesty and continued desire to be connected with discussions of faith.
CS Eric-
“It’s been noted before, but not yet in this thread. Sometimes people leave because the church isn’t “home” anymore. So much of the Book of Mormon talks about the communities that believers establish, and when believers are excluded from that community it feels like a betrayal of that faith–by the church, maybe even by God himself.”
So true. Many times if feelings of exclusion are not the cause of one leaving, those feelings lead one to doubt the church’s claim of being God’s true church. (Exclusion, not in the sense of being offended by an individual or small group of members, but by institutional policy which singles out certain people to be looked down on.) Everyone has different reasons to begin or further question the church. For me, not feeling “home” anymore was the catalyst.
Riverstone and CS Eric,
Let me ask you a question, speaking from the point of view of someone who values the Mormon faith and community and wants to see it be as inclusive as possible. What was it that led you to feel that the church wasn’t “home”?
Thank you, Roasted Tomatoes, for inviting me and thank you, Ann, for inspiring this series. Also, thanks to everyone who has commented so far. I was a little concerned about offending people as I was more blunt in this essay than I’d usually be. However, I wanted to convey how the experience felt from my point of view, so I hope I didn’t offend anyone.
Watt– I agree that it can be a lot easier to see all the good things in life if we don’t have to see everything in a inspired-by-God, inspired-by-the-devil binary.
Hellmut– I like your distinction between faith and knowledge; certainty can often be dangerous. I also like your version of Christianity. We can be believers without giving up the power to regulate our own lives.
Ronan– Watt is correct (thanks, Watt). It is a reference to Boyd K. Packer’s talk, which I found, unfortunately, less than inspiring. However, it make a great euphemism, as in, “Wayne Rooney just drove his boot into Campbell’s Little Factories.”
Davis– I was in one of the Buenos Aires missions. I wish we could have visited you in Rosario.
RT– This is a great question. I suppose most of us have an “extra-rational” desire for the divine, and I am no different. I think the problem is that I rarely found anything divine or transcendent (for me) at Church. The Church never became a community or a support-system or a font of knowledge for me. The only claim it had on me were its truth-claims, and when these fizzled out, there was nothing left for me to hang on to.
(cont.)
Wendy– I agree that it’s nice to have a place to discuss Mormonism and not necessarily have to believe or be critical. 21 years of being a member just don’t disappear when you stop believing.
David J– You sound like a companion that I could have used. There were a bunch of you out there.
I think people’s reasons for leaving are as varied as the people are. And I think Ann is correct in that it is rarely one issue, like being offended, but a combination.
Enochville wrote: “why do you think Mormons like me believe despite all that we have become familiar with?”
Enochville– This is a thought-provoking question. I suspect that each side will have its own answer. Someone with my worldview might theorize that your spiritual experiences and social ties within the church are stronger than the doubts raised by difficult issues. One thing we all have to confront (especially me) is that there are a lot of people smarter than us who believe in different things than we do.
Geoff J– You are the best (if only) virtual hometeacher I’ve ever had. However, I think we can recognize the greatness of many of Jesus’ teachings without necessarily relying on an extra-natural witness. The gospel of the NT, it seems to me, is all about an unconditional and personal divine love. I think that would spark “warm fuzzies” in just about anyone. The possibility of God is not dead for me, but I think the concept of a true church of his is.
(cont.)
Ann– I am surprised by how much my perspective has changed in a relatively short amount of time. I hope no one comes away with the idea that Internet helped move me out of the church. The Mormon blog community has been a great, safe place to work out all my issues, and I shudder to think of where I’d be spiritually without it.
Dave– I agree that Mormon Hell sounds pretty sweet (disregarding, for the moment, the concept of TK Smoothies). I am sure there would be celestial treats brought by each week by the Relief Society. The concept of oblivion after death still depresses me, though I think unexpected oblivion would be even worse. What if you live your whole life waiting for a reward that never comes? It’s almost too depressing to contemplate.
CS Eric and Riverstone– Great observations. I agree that not belonging in church is most often what leads people to start examining the difficult issues in church history and doctrines. I think it is a normal human impulse: if I am going to put up with x (insert your own issue with the church), then I better make sure that it is worth it. Should we concentrate on making more people feel welcome and at home at church, or dealing with the issues that ultimately help them leave?
Thanks, RT. I hope you are right. In the meantime, this community has helped me be happier now, which is a sure thing. Thank you all for that
Several people here and elswhere have mentioned Zelph as a troubling issue. I’m a bit puzzled by this. What exactly about the Zelph story is so troubling? I understand the race component might be an issue, but isn’t that more an issue with the Book of Mormon generally? Take away Zelph and the race problem is still there in the Book of Mormon.
RT,
Without going into too much detail, my wife had a severe medical and emotional crisis. The branch reached out and helped more than we expected, but it got to the point that many of our friends decided we were too much work to continue being our friends, and the branch president decreed that the branch would not employ any more resources for us. That included home teaching and visiting teaching. We have since had several of the “ordinary” members tell us they regret their actions, but were caught up in the heat of the moment. Many of them turned against us because of the situation, and a few did because of who they are. Unfortunately, too many of the latter catgory were in positions of leadership.
We have since moved, and are trying to leave that in the past. But we can’t get away from the fact that the Church is the reason we moved–it was a small town, and we simply weren’t welcome there any more. Our ward in our new home town has welcomed and embraced us, but we are afraid to let people in, for fear we will seem too much a burden again, and once again lose the support that had kept us going. Better not to have it at all than to have it and then lose it.
Somebody once defined home as the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in. The church in that small town would not take us in any more, and so it was no longer home. As far as the Church is concerned, the Bloggernacle feels more like home to me than the physical building or the people in it. I still believe, but feel more like a visitor now than a member.
It might be less problematic for strangers to engage that question if it were framed in less personal terms.
For me, historical issues are secondary. The historical issues matter only because LDS leaders demand unqualified obedience even though their enterprise is just as flawed as any other human endeavor.
Believe, faith and choice are fine. Claims of knowledge and domineering behavior are not.
Left, I remember when I first read about the Zelph thing (on the internet) it struck me as just…Joseph BSing. Think the John Lovitz liar character on Saturday Night Live, weaving tales out of thin air. “It’s a…great warrior! A white Lamanite! Yeah, that’s the ticket!”
It also could be the context where I read it. I’ve never read anything about the story of Zelph without an eyeroll next to it.
I think maybe a lot of people don’t come across Zelph until they’re already in a “what the heck?” frame of mind anyway, and the story just contributes to that mindset.
Ned–Thanks. I loved reading your story and enjoyed hearing your perspective. If nothing else, I hope Ann’s story, your story, and the other essays in this series will help demonstrate that people’s reasons for leaving the church are infinitely varied, nuanced, and complex.
I know my own journey from true believer to non-believer has involved tens of thousands of pages of reading and countless hours of careful thought and agonizing soul-searching. I sincerely appreciate the efforts of the many thoughtful believers here who make the effort to really understand people’s journeys away from the church–rather than falling back on the rote (and usually inaccurate) reasons for leaving (sin, pride, laziness, etc.).
RT-
I also really appreciate this forum you have created which feels so loving of individuals and so tolerant of different perspectives. Thank you, I think this is greatly needed in the church.
Since you asked, I will expound. I don’t mean to detract from the post which is about Ned’s experiences with the church. I have not felt at home at church for several years because I don’t feel like the church values or even tolerates my husband’s cultural choices which are all within the bounds of the God’s commandments. Here is a condensed version of our story.
The church accepted my husband, who had long dread locks for years before he joined, when he was baptized. He was accepted and loved, truly welcomed with open arms. In fact for many years he maintained his convert status and was treated with respect. I think many leaders thought that as he grew in the church he would change who he is to look and think like they do. When that didn’t happen and they wanted to extend him higher callings, they told him he should change his appearance because it is worldly and a bad example to the youth.(This is no exaggeration.) They told him this after he had organized fund raisers to send people to the temple, served and married in the temple himself, accepted many callings and bore fervent testimony of the Savior.
If this kind of thinking were isolated it would be one thing, but since then I have heard several talks, and read statements in official handbooks which basically equate not conforming to church standards of appearance with not honoring God. When you have a personal relationship with God and the Savior you don’t believe these statements, but you also don’t feel accepted or at home in a community which considers statements and policies such as these to be scripture. It is not just that these things are said, it is that so many members consider them to be from God, because they come from the church. In certain instances, I think the whole obedience to leaders pressure is a hinderance to people following their Christ-like instincts, as I think most people are naturally accepting and even intrigued by people different from themselves.
To answer RT’s question about what made the church no longer feel like home (even though he didn’t ask me, I’m sure he wants my take on it)…
At family gatherings, when the family folds their arms and bows their heads and addresses Heavenly Father, I fold and bow and say “amen” with the rest of them. But I feel like I’m sitting seder with Jews while not being a Jew myself. I recognize the significance to my family of that ritual, but I have a very strong sense of “this is not my ritual; I’m just a visitor here.” I guess it’s because I don’t acknowledge the premise of the prayer (I don’t think there is a Heavenly Father listening, and even if there is a God, I don’t want to refer to God that way), just like I don’t acknowledge the premise of the seder (I don’t think the Passover happened; and even if it did in some sense, I don’t think God cares whether I remember it through that ritual).
I think it’s a lot like how my parents’ house stopped feeling like home after I had been out on my own for a while. I’m not dependent on them anymore, I’m not subject to their rules or discipline anymore, I’m even starting to forget how they do some things and they’re starting to do some things differently than what I remember (when did my mother start cooking with salt?).
I also have my own traditions now. Maybe it’s because Unitarian Universalist rituals are formally somewhat similar to the LDS rituals that repetition of UU rituals over the past year has supplanted LDS rituals somewhat. For example, the UU hymnal feels “just right” in my hands now, and the LDS green one now feels too wide and too light. I now feel like it’s normal to begin a prayer by addressing the “Spirit of Life” or “Universal Soul.” And so on.
Ned,
I appreciate your taking time to write this.
I guess for me the thing that really got me to continue believing is Elie Wiesel. After surviving the holocaust, he continued to worship, declaring that he believed in God, but that did not mean he had to like God. His belief was based on the horror he had seen, and his hope that such horror cannot exist without a divine overseer, otherwise the world is utterly hopeless and depraved. It took him nearly forty years of struggle to come to a belief in a God that weeps with us, and is engaged with us instead of one that ignores those that believe.
I guess for me, I realized that I was wanted to be like Wiesel, placing my faith in God though I don’t understand why sometimes, because I want to believe and I want to hope, with the faith that someday, Like Wiesel, i will find the true meaning of the Divine in mt life. I find the greatest connection to that in the church, in spite of the above mentioned issues, because the theology of becoming divine myself rings more true and brings more hope to me than any other explanation of God’s plan for me does.
That was Gilgamesh, not Golgamesh.
The Book of Abraham was the final nail in the coffin of my faith.
That is an interesting statement. A friend of mine had the exact opposite experience, as a result of the traveling King Tut exhibition and its demonstration of Egyptian burial practices as a ritual endowment, down to signs and hand grips and the like.
Did you ever think that perhaps God was answering your questions about the gospel by the testimony that others gained through you? I found your discussion of the convert family that visited you interesting, as that was something that you did not take away from the experience, but I think that you should have found valid.
Well, the police are through with us, I’m going back to bed (some kids drove down the street in the neighborhood, breaking out windows, we found out when the police knocked on our door to give us insurance information).
Well, the police are through with us, I’m going back to bed (some kids drove down the street in the neighborhood, breaking out windows, we found out when the police knocked on our door to give us insurance information).
I am sorry to hear that, Steve. That must be troubling.
It is not easy to believe in god these days. I don’t think that it matters if a person is lds, catholic, protestant, etc. As the pope said the spirit of relativism is alive and well in the world today.
Of course one can be turned off by church history and some of the events that shape that history. But there is still the Book of Mormon and no matter how many people stomp on that book, it still survives the bruising. It just doesn’t go away. And the Book of Abraham is another factor. In sunday school today, there was a discussion about chapter 3. Now I must say that I am an inactive member only because I can’t do all those commandments and not because of church history but that Book of Abraham is something else.
I would have a hard time believing that Joseph Smith or some other mere mortal wrote that book. That goes for the whole of the pearl of great price. But I suppose that someone could do it…but Joseph Smith? I don’t know what to think of it all.
Joseph Smith was a genius. Of course he could have written the Book of Abraham. The Book of Mormon, too. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t inspired to do so, of course.
I read an interesting analogy the other day. It has been said that Hugh Nibley used to challenge his seminary students to come up with something as unique and astonishing as the Book of Mormon, within the constraints that Joseph had, and none of them could do it. (I don’t know if this is true; only that it has been said.) The analogy is a music teacher asking a room full of piano students to compose like Mozart. Of course they can’t!
Not a bad analogy, Ann, but the problem (for me) is this: if Mozart’s genius only exhibited itself in one or two pieces of music (the rest of the time he simply plonked at the piano) you would conclude that either he was utterly inspired beyond his genius or that someone else wrote those pieces.
The stuff I have read from Joseph’s early life (when he was off “writing” the BoM) is not symphonic material; he simply was not the literary genius that many suggest he was. So either someone else wrote the BoM, or there was some miraculous mojo going on. I am not sure of that many things, but I do not believe Joseph wrote the Book of Mormon. That’s not because my testimony demands otherwise; it’s the logical conclusion I have come to as a scholar. It doesn’t mean there were angels or goldplates either, but the BoM is not the product of a ragged frontiersman (which I believe Joseph was in the late 1820s). Something else was going on, divine or not.
I don’t know, Ronan. To put things into perspective we should remember another frontiersman who really wrote world class works: Abraham Lincoln. Then there was the freed slave Frederick Douglas who did not get to go to school at all and became one of America’s preeminent writers.
During the eighteenth and nineteenth century there were many authors from humble backgrounds who produced remarkable texts. From Rousseau to Hans Christian Anderson, there are countless examples.
HL,
Yeah, but everything else Joseph wrote sucked rocks. I’m not saying an uneducated farm-boy cannot produce works of genius, it’s just that beyond the BoM, Joseph showed no similar talent in his early years.
Ronan and Hellmut, that’s an interesting conversation to have. At the very least, I think we could agree that the Book of Mormon was, in comparison with Joseph’s other early work, inspired in the sense that it is a literary production that utterly transcends the author’s apparent native ability at that point — although some of us will still part company on the question of whether it was divinely inspired. But I think it’s clear from any close reading that the Book of Mormon is intricate and dense, with theological meaning woven into and echoing through events throughout the book.
Grant Palmer has demonstrated that there was a lot of material that Joseph Smith could draw from.
I was very much surprised to learn last year that Hyrum Smith had been a school teacher, which suggests that Joe’s education might have been somewhat more solid than people had suggested.
Hellmut, yes, you’re right, the picture of Joseph as a semi-illiterate is probably incorrect. His father, Joseph Sr., had also worked as a school teacher, so Joseph was probably basically competent in reading and writing. I also agree that there was a lot of material that Joseph could have drawn on in the Book of Mormon project.
My point isn’t about the originality or historical accuracy of the book one way or the other. Rather, it’s to say that the book is quite carefully and intricately constructed. While the language is often clumsy, the structure is surprisingly controlled — much more so that Joseph’s early sermons, or even the early revelations in the Doctrine and Covenants.
I would have to look at the data closely. One would have to define the baseline of works that establish the writer’s expected ability.
With respect to theological meaning, I can think about a New Testament parable for days. The Book of Mormon just does not do that for me. The Book of Mormon seems to be rather formulaic. People are poor and humble and turn to God. They prosper and become arrogant and need to be punished to remember their God.
Some of the Sermons are interesting: King Benjamin, Alma, or Abinadi. But none of that contains much that you would not expect from a revival preacher.
I do find the Book of Mormon original in one respect though: Alma 32 and Moroni 10. I think these passages reflect Smith’s experience of how he started to believe into himself. Together with D&C 9, these passages are the key to Smith’s biography.
Anyways, I have exhausted my quota. If you are interested to pursue this, please, shoot me an e-mail.
Anyways, I have exhausted my quota. If you are interested to pursue this, please, shoot me an e-mail.
Or go here which is a post inspired from this portion of this conversation.
/threadjack. Now we can return to the topic of Ned’s imminent future in Hell
Rusty, the problem is that assigning to god is the more complicated explanantion…and obvioulsy the most difficult to prove.
This puts the onus back on the apologist.
I hope you all have the decency to at least visit me (in all my smoothness). I’ll be bored. Taunting will be welcomed.
The problem with Zelph is that he doesn’t support the Limited Geography Theory. They found Zelph in Illinois, and according to accounts, Joseph said he was a follower of Onandagus, a prophet known from the Atlantic Ocean to the Rocky Mountains. Onondaga County, New York, is nearly adjacent to (just one county over from) Wayne County, New York, where Palmyra is located. Also, it should be noted that the Onondagas are one of the five tribes of the Iroquois confederacy. Anyway, I don’t really want to get into a big discussion about Zelph, but that is why it was troubling to me.
That is a beautiful thought. I often times think that if someone who has truly suffered can believe, why not me? I hope God does exist.
Ned: You are the best (if only) virtual hometeacher I’ve ever had.
The problem for you is you can’t ditch me by pretending you’re not home this way…
However, I think we can recognize the greatness of many of Jesus’ teachings without necessarily relying on an extra-natural witness.
Ahh, but the greatness of Jesus is not what we were talking about. We were talking about your previous statements: “I find great comfort in the gospel of Jesus Christ… I want my kids to know this and be like Jesus Christ…”
The word “comfort” describes something you have felt. And apparently you have felt it so deeply that you want it for your unborn children.
What I am prescribing for you is a game of spiritual “Red Light, Green Light”. It is the most basic way to receive revelation from God. Your comments have already revealed that something about Jesus Christ and his gospel has reached somewhere deep in your soul and whispered “this is good… this gives me comfort… this feels right…”
That is what we call a spiritual Green Light.
The game is to seek more green lights. To investigate whatever it was that gave you comfort. To see what happens when you learn about and ponder on other parts of scriptural teachings; To see if you can find other spiritual green lights; To see if you can feel more truth. That is how you hear from God. You have heard his voice already because you are one of his sheep. His sheep hear his voice.
But you are also free to choose. If you want to ignore the Shepherd you are free to do so. (I recommend against ignoring the Shepherd, BTW.)
Don’t worry about whether Mormonism is true or not at first. Just play spiritual Red Light, Green Light. Start with the question of the existence of God. After a while I believe you’ll get enough green lights to be certain God is actually there. (He is there after all…) At some point you might get more green lights about the role of Jesus Christ…
If you can get good at the game of spiritual Red Light, Green Light then I’ll be the a very happy virtual home teacher. Everything else witll work itself out from there.
Look — either God exists or he doesn’t. Either he loves us or he doesn’t. Either he can talk to us personally or he can’t. Why waste your time on any other superfluous religious trivia until you answer this, the MOST important question?
BTW – Alma also recommended this game here.)
I once wrote an essay on “Why I believe what I believe?” to a group of atheists and agnostics. Looking back it was not written all that well (I will rewrite it someday when I have time), but it brings up several good points, IMHO. It does not address the doctrinal or historical issues that people who leave the Church often cite. It focuses instead on gathering data points and testing which idea is more likely, that God does exist or that He does not. Have a look: http://www2.ljworld.com/forums/open/general/20/
Cool, Enochville. I’ll check it out.
Geoff, without getting deeply into the theology and history involved in the issue, I want to quickly point out that the experience of God as comfort isn’t universal — nor do the Mormon scriptures regard it as such. Serenity Valley has typically experienced God’s messages as heavy-handed compulsions, not as feelings of comfort. I myself have had a range of different experiences, with feelings of peace and comfort typically involved in what I’d describe as divine emotional therapy and quite different experiences as my revelatory “evidence” of the existence and goodness of God and Christ.
In other words, I think we need to be somewhat careful about (1) concluding that all feelings of peace are informative revelation, rather than other kinds of experiences, and (2) restricting the range of possible revelatory experiences to feelings of peace and comfort.
GeoffJ: Although I am currently an active member holding a leadership calling, I have a lot of sympathy for Ned’s position. The problem I have with your suggestion is that seems to work only for some people. God seems to talk to some people and not to others. I keep playing the red light green light game, and variations thereof. In desperation, I took up the Hinckley challenge and put Moroni’s promise to the test once again. It isn’t working. In fact, in recent months as I have read the Book of Mormon and pleaded with God for answers, I have felt powerful negative impressions. I don’t really know what to do about that. But at some point, don’t I have to yield to those impressions?
To me, in the long run this is all based on whether or not you have your own ‘religious experiences’ with the gospel of Jesus Christ or not. If you do not, then don’t just give up, it’s worth trying. I can’t really say why these things seem to come more easily to some than others.
Once you have had these experiences, like I feel I have, then I think one should keep certain things in mind. Like general authorities are imperfect people to. Why should we be less tolerant of their opinions, personalities, biases, mistakes etc. than we are of anyone else. I guess this is just a compartmental approach. But I believe the gospel of Jesus Christ as revealed is true, and that the flawed church is an organization set up through revelation and administered by unqualified imperfect volunteers.
So when I hear about some church leader saying or doing something that seems out of place I generally feel like - so what? I don’t worship the guy. I think our testimonies need to be based on sure foundations not on imperfect humans. That helps me roll with the punches of mormonism that sometimes come.
I am sorry to hear that, Steve. That must be troubling.
Not as much as it would have. Since it doesn’t affect me financially, and the glass guys are coming out today to fix the car, I’m amazed at how little random crime bothers me any more.
My daughter felt sorry for the poor police officer going down the block waking people up …
But, no one died, no one lost a job, no one even will miss lunch over this. Just took me a little bit of reading to relax and go to sleep.
Anyway, interesting to read here, I think we sell God short and man long sometimes.
Anyway, interesting to read here, I think we sell God short and man long sometimes.One can read this a number of ways . . .
RT: I want to quickly point out that the experience of God as comfort isn’t universal — nor do the Mormon scriptures regard it as such.
That’s alright because I didn’t claim it was. Rather I pointed out what Ned said about his own feelings.
garf: The problem I have with your suggestion is that seems to work only for some people. God seems to talk to some people and not to others.
Well since I can’t tell if you are a fictitious character or not, I’ll act like you are real…
It works for every person on the earth if they do it right. See here and here..
garf: In fact, in recent months as I have read the Book of Mormon and pleaded with God for answers, I have felt powerful negative impressions. I don’t really know what to do about that. But at some point, don’t I have to yield to those impressions?
Yup. But you haven’t yet. Why?
Geoff: I am indeed real, so I am delighted that you are willing to treat me as such. Why have I not yet yielded? A few reasons. First, I am the Bishop of my ward. That makes it just a bit awkward. But more importantly, I am trying to keep an open mind. I cling to hope. I keep pushing on because of commitments to my family and others. This is not just about me. A lot of people are affected by any actions I take.
Your suggestion that I am not doing it right may indeed be correct. I am doing everything in my power to do it right. If there is a better than way than reading, pleading, pondering and trying to serve faithfully, I am willing to give it a try. Referring me to scriptures which promise answers that have not come is simply begging the question. Do you have any other suggestions for people like me?
Hehe.
This is rich. Ok… so now I’m to believe you are a real live currently-serving bishop. Forgive me “Bishop garf”, but I don’t believe you. I think you are a real person playing a fictitious character to serve a personal agenda (we’ve seen a little bit of role playing in these parts before). But since there is an outside chance you are not trying to deceive us — and even if you are this makes for an interesting thought experiment — I’ll respond.
First, you should immediately talk with your stake president about your problem. Proper Bishopping (*new cool word of the day*) requires constant revelation and inspiration from God. If the heavens truly are sealed for you as you claim then you may not able to properly magnify your calling. You stake president will almost surely not have trouble hearing back from God on what to do about your case.
Second, let me point you to a post of mine from last year called Personal Revelation: Where To Start. That ought to give you some food for thought.
Last, ask yourself why you have not become a full fledged atheist yet. What is holding you back other than social pressure? When you find the source of what is holding back from th inside rather than from the outside, seize hold of it and explore it. I mean, what more-important things do you have to ponder in life?
Geoff: I can understand your skepticism. My own position in the church is not particularly germane, and I really don’t want to spend too much time trying to prove that I am not lying to you. It was obviously a mistake on my part to mention and I won’t bring it up again. If you want to provide me with your email address, I am willing to provide you with some corroborating evidence to demonstrate that I am who I say I am. I would rather not post that kind of information in a public forum such as this one. I don’t particularly care whether you believe me or not, but I am new to the bloggernacle (although a longtime lurker) and I may well want to post more frequently under this name. I would rather not have you suggest to others that I am a fraud. I care deeply about these issues and I am looking for answers wherever I can find them. I have read the post you referred me to and appreciate your comments. Let me just close with a plea to be a little bit more careful about suggesting that people who don’t get the answers promised by Moroni (and others) are not doing something right. I know of too many exceptions to that statement.
Well garf, if you are indeed being sincere then I hope you will forgive my skepticism and brusqueness.
This subject of hearing God has been a major theme of mine for some time… I think I have published more than 20 posts on the subject already. I agree that not hearing God is not necessarily an issue of trying hard enough. I think much of it has to do with spiritual ear training actually… I specifically posted on that here.
Best of luck to you in your spiritual ear training. It ain’t easy to discern the difference between a C-7 chord and a C-7 flat 9 chord… but some people with properly trained ears can easily tell the difference. So it is with discerning what God it saying to us – with proper “spiritual ear training” the subtleties are no longer hard to discern. They don’t call God’s voice still and small fer nothin’ ya know.
garf, welcome. I hope that you’ll feel comfortable continuing to talk with us. Please understand that everybody who uses a pseudonym gets treated with a bit of initial suspicion around here. I know I did…
I don’t get it. Is it the fact that Elder Packer analogized the male reproductive system to a factory that added to your desire to leave the church, or is it the fact that he told young men they shouldn’t masturbate?
Geoff: I have been a frequent enough lurker around the bloggernacle to know that you are a thoughtful, sincere and decent guy. No apologies necessary for your understandable and mild brusqueness. On the subject of having spiritual ears to hear God, I have a few thoughts, but I am afraid I will detract from this thread if I pursue those here.
RT: Thank you for the welcome. I always enjoy your comments.
AndyW– It isn’t really the subject of my post, but, to give you an answer, there are a lot of things I don’t like about that BKP talk.
In general, I think we place way too much pressure on our youth to not be normal pubescent human beings, to the extent that we even crimalize their normal thoughts. I think this is madness and very unhealthy.
Just wanted to add my thanks and appreciation to Ned for writing this compelling essay. And to Roasted Tomatoes for hosting this thoughtful series of guest posts. Thank you.
Great story, Ned. Thanks for writing about it.
I’m a big fan of the bloggernaccle Ned Flanders (and the Springfield one too, for that matter). I just wanted to check in here with my support.
For what it’s worth, if I were an atheist, I would still be an active Mormon. A little hypocrisy never hurt anybody.
Buon luogo, congratulazioni, il mio amico!
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