I'm Grace.

As a teenager, I began to have doubts that all the good people I knew from school would be "cast down to hell". This was possibly my first "shelf item". I couldn't ask any questions of my family or a member of the priesthood because a question means you are a doubter and "you KNOW where doubters go!" (to outer darkness). I just kept my head down and tried to do my callings (mostly teaching Primary, cooking and cleaning for church functions) without getting into trouble.

My dad wore a classy suit and tie to church and acted like the perfect priesthood holder but at home he was mean and violent. One of the things he said to me regularly was that "women are inherently evil and I'm going to beat it out of you". He kept me under his control with daily punishment and never-ending chores. From the time I was in pre-school, he told me that I was so wicked that God would never answer my prayers. I never prayed except for the rote prayers we were taught to say over meals and at night. I was forbidden from buying clothes or other personal items without my dad approving of them first. There were many changeable "rules" about modesty and what I could wear any given day. I attended public school, but I was kept from participating in extra-curricular activities because they were "of the world".

My large extended family also practices a version of the stay-at-home daughter rule. One girl of every nuclear family is expected to live with the parents and take care of them until they die. Then the daughter (who will probably be in her 60's or 70's) is farmed out to a nephew's family to take care of them until the aunt dies. I'm my parents only daughter (I have three brothers), so my dad told me many times that I would never leave the family farm. Though this practice isn't in the church Articles of Faith, it's encouraged by its members. This is an important part of why I eventually left that church and now have little contact with family.

In school, I was required to take classes to prep me for a typical female job of the 1960's (mostly secretarial and homemaking). I also learned how to make a budget, balance a checkbook and fill out a tax return. I knew I wanted to escape from the family so I would need money. I began sneaking off to work on neighboring farms when my dad was away. I stashed my paychecks in a secret bank account. When my dad found out I had made some money, he demanded that I give him 10% tithing so he could give it to the church. I was also told to give other offerings every Sunday to “remain in good standing”.

When I graduated at 18, I knew that the law said I was emancipated, so I got a full-time job and bought a car, both without my dad's permission. He was livid. He came to my office and created a scene, trying to force me to quit. He stole my car and had it painted bright orange because he thought the small town's folk where I worked would tattle to him if they saw me anywhere. He would call to make sure I went home immediately after work to do the family's housekeeping. He forced me to pay him room and board because "you think you're so smart but you're just a burden on the family finances".

I continued to be at church every time the doors were open, fulfill my callings and pay tithing to the penny along with other offerings. But I wasn't listening to the rhetoric shouted from the pulpit about wicked women who weren't blindly obeying God's commands of marrying the first man who asked and giving birth to as many children as possible. It sounded like another version of the prison I was already in. I was told continually that I had "gone astray" so I believed I would just survive in the world. The church god only helped those who were pure and perfect without a thought of "rebelling against the righteous priesthood holder, your father". And I wasn't perfect.

At work, I was learning that the world wasn't all wicked. I became friends with another single woman in my office and told her a little bit about my living situation. She had a large apartment with an extra bedroom so she invited me to become a roommate. While my dad was out of town, I borrowed a pickup, packed up my meager possessions and my twin bed and escaped from the prison farm. To this day, some 50+ years later, I still remember the elation I felt as I headed down the road to freedom.

As expected, my dad soon found out I was gone and ordered me to resume my duties as his housekeeper and farm hand. I said I didn't have time, too much work, etc. He ordered the family to shun me so they didn't speak to me at church for quite a while. Far from forcing me "back to the fold", being ignored strengthened my resolve to have a life completely on my own. My employer started sending office staff to temporary assignments out of town. I took advantage of the training (and the accompanying raise) and learned how to look out for myself staying in hotels away from home. My dad accused me of not really working, just being a “harlot” (prostitute).

By age 25, I held a responsible position in my company and had paid for a small house. I had a nice car and travelled for work. But I was hearing at church that I needed to do more and give more to “remain in good standing with the church. I was continually asked why I wasn't married. I would demure about there being no eligible men available, because I was related to most of them. I didn't want to be married; I knew lots of married women who were very unhappy.

My parents became acquainted with a local farmer who "just needs a good wife to help him" and decided it should be me. They began manipulating meetings with the farmer by telling me to come help with a project or cook for an event then the farmer would show up and "see that you're a good worker and cook". I tried to out-maneuver them or be too busy with work. My mother particularly hammered on me that "you must get married and get him baptized to cover your multitude of sins". Ostensibly, my sins were rebelling against the righteous priesthood by refusing to remain at their farm as an unpaid servant.

In the category of "I wish I had known then what I know now", it was weird that this farmer didn't ask me on dates or try to get to know me. My parents told him that they wanted to marry me off to any man for a household slave and that fit right in with his agenda. He demanded that I go to his farm and work nights and Saturdays (unpaid) for him. When I told him I couldn't do it all the time, he tattled to my dad. My dad shouted at me that I was going "down the path of wicked women by refusing what a man tells you to do." I told my dad that I had found out the farmer was a closet drinker and had a woman who stayed overnight with him on a regular basis. Didn't matter; men can do what they want but women are supposed to be pure, hard-working and take everything on blind faith.

Years of being badgered by the church and family wore me down. I was told to "make your calling (being married) an election sure!" and that being married was God's will for me. I got so tired of it that I eventually surrendered. The farmer and my mother decided what day I would get married and I showed up, despite feeling like I was selling my soul to the devil. It was worse than I imagined. My husband was abusive like my dad and made my life a living hell. He wouldn’t allow my “junk” in his house, so I had to put everything I owned except some clothes in storage. He whined to my parents that my job kept me from taking care of him, so they pressured me unmercifully to quit and “obey your husband as you do the Lord”. I continued my callings which included cleaning the meeting house two months a year. My husband accused me “having affairs” with the priesthood members. Per church protocol, I sought help from the priesthood holder who had married us (my dad). He said that if I even talked about my husband in less than glowing terms, I was committing adultery. I was to "endure to the end".

After several years of alcoholic chaos including my husband trying to kill me, I found an Al-Anon meeting. And because of those meetings, I met the real God who loves unconditionally. It seemed a strange concept to me at first, that God could love someone who isn't perfect. But I found by learning the first three steps, loosely condensed as "I can't, He can, I think I'll let Him", a huge weight lifted from my shoulders that had been there since I was a child with way too much responsibility for myself and others. I started to talk to God whenever I was alone. My life began to be more tolerable, though it took several years before I saw a light at the end of the tunnel.

I continued attending church, doing the drudgery of my callings and paying my way to Zion. I began to see big differences between church members I had known all my life and Al-Anon members who I'd only known for months or a few years. For instance, in my mid-30's, I had a cancer scare, surgery and hospitalization. During a long painful convalescence, I had no support from family or church members. No phone calls, visits or even a get-well card. I began to wonder why I'd worked so hard for years for those people. It seemed that if I wasn't at my parent’s farm or church working myself sick or paying for something, I didn't exist to them. This became a "shelf" item, something I just stored away because I didn't understand it.

Since my "age of accountability", one of my dad's regular punishments was to call on me from the pulpit and demand that I read aloud a scripture passage to show that I was wicked beyond redemption. If I didn't do it perfectly without missing any punctuation, I was loudly chastised in front of the congregation. Those episodes filled me with such shame and horror that I wanted to disappear. A few months after my cancer diagnosis, my dad again called on me during a meeting to read a condemning passage. When he deemed my reading "unworthy", he made me read it again and again. Something snapped in me. I laid down the book, picked up my purse and marched out of the meeting. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I was done. Within a few months, I had resigned my callings and stopped attending church. My dad alternately called me ranting insults or shunned me entirely. I decided that anyone who treated me that way, regardless of how I was related to them, was no longer important to me.

Meanwhile on the home front, the sham marriage was barely a working relationship. My husband disappeared without notice often for a week at a time leaving me to run the farm solo. When we married, his debts were huge. I had paid off some of them with my savings and by selling unneeded equipment but I realized I could never get us out of debt without steady income.

I didn't tell my husband that I had stopped going to church. He had not responded well to my parents coaching me in manipulative tactics to make him a baptized church member. He didn’t attend church more than handful of times. I went to Al-Anon meetings and learned the definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I decided to work on my own serenity which included contact with the God of my understanding (the good one) and becoming gainfully employed again.

I called my old boss who welcomed me back and arranged training to become a supervisor. I was offered a very good position in a more populated area several hours from home. I rented a tiny place to stay during the week then I would go back to my husband's farm for weekends to catch up the housework and pay bills.

As soon as my husband realized that I wasn't around to work for him every minute, he became enraged. Here's when I noticed that God started showing up for me, giving me courage to do things I would never have dared. My husband tracked me to my office then threatened me and my co-workers. I chased him out and told him if he ever contacted people I worked with again, I would see him "swinging from the yardarm". He must have believed me, because he never did that again. I saw him stalking me from a distance occasionally but my co-workers and I were protected from more direct threats.

It was becoming evident that I wouldn’t be able to maintain appearance of being married plus I no longer believed I could do enough works be one of the “elect” entering into Zion. An opportunity came up to buy a new little house near my office. With my income, I was able to qualify for the loan, so I again became a homeowner. Every weekend at my husband’s farm, I sneaked boxes from storage into the car trunk and hauled to my new quarters. When my husband discovered the new house, he announced he was moving in. I didn’t have legal means to keep him from out, though I had sought advice about legal separation.

During this transition time, I continued the Al-Anon program and praying to God every day for my safety and help with decisions. One night, my husband came to dinner in a rage and began swinging his fists at me. I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. He broke down the door, but I escaped. Though I’d been putting up with this kind of treatment for many years, I was done “enduring to the end” because the end was going to be in a cemetery. My husband left for a few days and when he came back, I had the divorce paperwork and asked him to move out.

The same week, my employer sold the company to a large conglomerate so all of us in the smaller company were laid off. I had savings and was sure I could survive until I found another job. I didn’t tell my family that my husband and I had separated. However, he visited every house of church, family and friends and told them I was wicked and had thrown him out. Nearly all of them cut off contact with me. A few called occasionally but publicly shunned me. One person told me that I should know I would be disfellowshipped for the sin of divorce. It’s been more than 30 years and I’m still not invited to family celebrations, weddings or funerals. This is another shelf item: several male family members split from their spouses before I did but they weren’t shunned or threatened with being disfellowshipped. The fault was those wicked women they were married to. It’s always the women’s fault, according to them.

While hunting work, I had extra time at home, so I decided to try to answer some of those nagging church questions I’d been putting on the shelf for years. This was before Internet, so I studied using the KJV Bible, Book of Mormon and other references. I had decided the Bible was true because of archeological and scientific evidence. I wanted to prove to myself that the Book of Mormon and subsequent revelations agreed with the Bible, as I had been taught. The first inconsistency was that the Bible says Jesus treated everyone the same, regardless of gender, creed or color. Galatians 3:28 KJV “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.” However, the Book of Mormon says the righteous will be “white and delightsome” and that people with dark skin are wicked. The more I read, the more discrepancies I found. I read for hours on end with my eyes being opened to the deceit I had believed for nearly 40 years.

I remember the moment I stood up, pointed at the Book of Mormon and said, “THAT book is WRONG!” The Doctrine & Covenants (D&C) and subsequent revelations were even further off in the weeds. My shelf with all those questions fell with a crash. Instead of proving that the Latter Day Saint gospel I had learned was true, I studied myself into unbelief. I put the LDS scriptures in a cabinet to gather dust.

I found another job though it required more travel. During those hours in the car, I thought about what I had been taught most of my life. Church members were not encouraged to read the scriptures because we (especially women) didn’t have the intelligence to understand. We had to take everything the priesthood said on blind faith because they didn’t sin and were always right. Now I was seeing a lot of those beliefs as utter garbage. I started my own faith system, relying on a God who loves us and hears and answers prayers. A few times, old fears came over me and I thought, “What if they’re right? What if everybody has to work, work, work to be saved?” But I was reminded that in 40 years, I had never done enough or donated enough to be good enough. Ephesians 2:8-9 KVJ “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast.”

From the time I was a child, I remember a yearly “priesthood visit” that took place in our home. It was usually a stressful time because the house and yard had to be extra clean for the visiting authority to determine that my dad and his family were worthy to remain in good standing with the church. When I bought my first house, my dad demanded a key so he could come in whenever he wanted. For 20+ years, my parents had free reign of my home, going through my personal effects and lecturing me on sin. They scrutinized my wardrobe for evils such as blue jeans and underwear that wasn’t white. They criticized my housekeeping and whether I had a big enough garden to have home-canned goods for the entire winter.

I didn’t know it at the time, but in later years one of the authorities let it slip that the church kept a record of every member’s yearly household inspection report done after priesthood visits. Another woman who divorced her philandering husband said that the priesthood were at her door every few weeks to see what was in her kitchen cabinets and closets. Her husband was demanding that she be disfellowshipped for wickedness. When I bought the new house shortly before splitting from my husband, I decided that my parents would not have a key. My dad went into orbit, yelling that it was his duty as a holy priesthood holder to come into my house and “ascertain that you aren’t sinning”. I told him that I didn’t have time or energy for sin and held my ground. I didn’t tell him that I no longer believed in the church or their rules about apparel and housekeeping.

For about 20 years, I buried myself in work. I practiced the Al-Anon program and grew in my faith in God but I didn’t set foot in a church except for a funeral. I moved several times ending up in a large metropolitan area working in a big corporate office with a very responsible supervisory job. My parents made a yearly visit so they could report to the church authorities that my house had been inspected. They also gave my contact information to church auditors (I called them the enforcers) who demanded that I allow them into my house. I refused. I even called big-city law enforcement to ask what my rights were. They told me that I could refuse entry to anyone who wasn’t named on my house deed. They would be glad to escort those on my property without permission to a big-city jail.

While working seven-day weeks, I had no time or energy to go anywhere but work and the grocery store. A new friend asked me if I believed in God, and I said I did. She asked if I belonged to a church. I told her I’d grown up in a legalistic patriarchal group and that I believed churches to be all alike. I knew of several who discriminated against women who were divorced or had no children. The friend told me which community church she attended. She was divorced and wasn’t penalized because of it. Toward the end of the year, work slowed down so I went to a Christmas Eve service at my friend’s church. I had heard as a child that it was wicked to have Christmas Eve and Good Friday services, so I was really curious to see that “wickedness”. It was a lovely spiritual service. The sanctuary was beautifully decorated (something my old church was definitely against) and the music was wonderful.
I began attending that church once or twice a month then studying the Bible because what I was hearing was so different from my past church experience. Jesus said to associate with everyone. What?!? No perfect marriage or a dozen grandchildren needed to keep me from being cast into outer darkness?
“When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” Mark 2:16-17 NIV
Who are the sinners? “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Romans 3:23 NIV
Jesus said, “Very truly I tell you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be judged but has crossed over from death to life.” John 5:24 NIV

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Romans 8:1 NIV
Wow, that sounds like freedom!

One of the questions I’m sure readers will ask is, why did I just go “inactive” instead of officially resigning from the LDS splinter group?

1. The first reason is that those people take “I resign” as a personal threat so I don’t want to be on their hit list. When a member sends a resignation letter, they are labeled "apostate". Then the church gossip machine goes into high gear to ruin their standing in their job and community. Copies of the resignation are read from pulpits and sent to the member’s family and friends along with allegations of crimes such as pedophilia and financial fraud.

2. I’m on speaking terms with a few family members who seem to be seeing that the church is not all it claims. I believe that resigning would shift our relationship into an “us vs. them” dynamic. What I can do is pray for them and show by example that I have a good Jesus-centered life while attending a different church. I can give them permission to be where they are, so Jesus can work on them like He did me. Also, if they saw the church gossip machine come after me, they would be so frightened that they would retreat and stop speaking to me.

3. I don't believe in "one true church" (denomination) and the Bible doesn't support it. I think it's a moot point to resign from a corporate structure that is bogus.

4. This group is rapidly losing members like the mainstream LDS. The older people who held major control with fear are getting old and passing away. Others just fade away or “go inactive”. I’m hopeful that there will soon not be enough of them to perpetrate evil actions against those who resign.

I retired at 70 so I had time and fast Internet to answer questions about my previous church. One day I happened upon a podcast called Mormon Stories on YouTube. I watched a bunch of folks recount their lives until they decided to leave Mormonism; many of them sounded like my experiences. I was so glad to know there were more than two or three people on the planet who had “rebelled against the holy priesthood”. Then when DNA scientists stated that there is no proof that the Book of Mormon people were of Middle Eastern descent, I was astounded. Joseph Smith’s whitewashed story that I was taught turned out to be a fairy tale. From my reading and the research of experts a lot smarter than I am, I saw that the Book of Mormon is a plagiarized fraud perpetrated by men. Then I found Jeremy Runnells’ CES letter and the Gospel Topics Essays. I was blown away to say the least.

After I heard many people tell why they left the church, I decided to start writing down dates and incidents that contributed to my decision. It’s been a journey of discovery and memories that are sometimes difficult, but it’s good to get it recorded. That document has grown to over 30 pages.

I’ve been retired for a few years now and life is good. I’m reasonably healthy. I keep busy working in my yard, volunteering at a local animal shelter and helping with church projects if I choose to. If it’s not fun, I don’t volunteer for it. No man is “calling” me to do some church chore forever regardless of whether I enjoy it. I continue to follow the Al-Anon program because it helps in my day-to-day dealings with others. I’m living in the love and grace of Jesus and it’s wonderful.