Mamajama Leaves the Fold

I believe that the first of these events came in either the late 50s or the early 60s. I was in a Woolworths (I think), and stopped to get a drink from the water fountain. I hesitated as I noticed that there were two water fountains, one labeled "colored" and the other labeled "white." I then noticed that there were separate restrooms labeled according to race. I can see these "colored" and "white" restroom signs in my mind as clearly today as I did almost 45 years ago. For some reason, I had never really noticed them before, and I wasn't quite sure how to process it.

Many of you may be familiar with Jim Crow laws. Even into the 70s, it wasn't uncommon in small southern towns to see separate waiting rooms in medical offices. Sadly, some of my teachers throughout middle school and high school were incredibly racist, and used their classroom time to spew racial hatred. When I was in the 10th grade, the schools in our town were finally desegregated, and I became friends with several African American students. A friend, Floyd, had desires to be a preacher. One Sunday, about three of us attended his church to hear him preach. What an experience for three white folks to sit amongst a church full of African Americans in the Deep South. I remember being a bit apprehensive about going, but we were largely ignored. Floyd's sermon was energetic and moving. This must have been the beginning of my interest in religion and how it moves and shapes people in different ways.

The early 70s brought the "Jesus Movement" and the Vietnam War continued to rage. I had a few friends who were being "saved" and they went around proudly pointing their index fingers skyward and exclaiming, "One Way!" One of my best friends became "born again" and I went with her on several occasions to her evangelical church. The preacher was emotional; people would cry and walk up to the front of the church as they accepted Jesus into their lives. One of my friends was personally rebuked by a preacher in a wheelchair when she didn't come to the front during a tent revival. I tried and tried to feel the spirit of Jesus, but never seemed to have that "burning bosom" even though I desperately wanted to. One night in high school, I spent the night with my born again friend, and I dreamed my sins were lifted from me. I could actually feel them leaving me in my dream. Hell, I wasn't even sure what a "sin" was or if I'd committed any. My friend told me the next morning that it was Jesus making me feel this way. I was leery of her explanation, but generally accepted it even though it wasn't a very moving experience for me. I could never figure out why my born again friends felt all of this emotion and love for Jesus and I didn't. What was wrong with me?

As soon as I hit college, I quit going to church altogether. I met my husband between my junior and senior years of college, and because he was at a university at the opposite side of the state, we spent many weekends traveling back and forth to be with each other. Sometime during our relationship, I became aware that he had been raised as a Mormon. I had no idea what a Mormon was, other than I was pretty sure that Donny and Marie were Mormon. He wasn't an active Mormon, and our differing religious backgrounds were pretty much irrelevant. Neither of us participated in any formal church services. We married about three years after we met, and had our first child about three years after we married. It was at that time that I felt that we should find a church in which to raise our children. My husband wasn't much interested in the formality of the Episcopal Church, so I decided to call the missionaries to receive the lessons. I don't think that we ever thought of an alternative choice. I had visited Temple Square and found the emphasis on family to be attractive. I wasn't so sure about the gold plates and Joseph Smith, but my husband reminded me that many of the beliefs of other churches (including the Episcopal Church) were equally bizarre. Couldn't argue with that! The sister missionaries "challenged" me to get baptized at the 3rd lesson. I was called "golden." I agreed, but continued to be irritated by a few things that they told me. I felt basically threatened by one of the sisters when she told me that since I now knew the "truth," failure to follow through with baptism was equivalent with following Satan (not exactly her words, but the threat was clear). That actually caused me to balk at joining, but my husband assured me that she was full of it. He wasn't impressed with either of the sister missionaries.

I was baptized at age 29. In the south, it was not unusual to come out of church and find anti-Mormon literature on your car. "The Godmakers" was making its rounds in nearby evangelical churches. My running buddy was a "born again" who was very disappointed in my choice to join the Mormon Church, but I shrugged off her comments because I didn't have much respect for evangelical-types. Following my conversion, I was immediately called to be the first counselor in the primary presidency in our ward. The primary president with whom I worked was a former snake-handling Pentecostal, so she found the Mormon Church to be rather tame. I, on the other hand, found it more fundamentalist-like which was a bit unsettling to me. While I liked the idea of a lay "clergy," I found testimony meetings to be very uncomfortable. I had grown up with strong beliefs that personal religious beliefs were sacred and private. It was improper to share your beliefs openly with others.

In the first few years after I converted, I became more disturbed by what I was learning: Blacks had just recently been given the priesthood, the church was against the ERA, and I didn't appreciate how the church viewed things related to sexuality. I became fascinated with Sonia Johnson, and was quietly cheering her on as neighbors and friends called her a kook. All in all, I was quite ignorant of the church's teachings beyond what was received in the first few missionary lessons. I had been a member for several years before I heard about things such as the preexistence, becoming gods, polygamy, etc. Perhaps I slept through those lessons!

Interestingly, from the very start, I managed to find every opportunity to skip sacrament meeting. I hated it. Three hours of church was insane, and wrestling with 2 kids was no picnic. Because I suffered from performance anxiety, I was petrified that I'd be called on to speak or bear my testimony, which I felt that I did not have. I read "alternative" LDS magazines from the beginning, such as Sunstone and Dialogue. When we moved to Utah, I continued to participate fully in callings, but avoided speaking in church. I decided that I wanted to go to the temple because I felt that it would take me to the "next level," and I somehow convinced my husband to go. He had never received the Melchelzidek priesthood because of his lack of participation when he was younger, so the bishop took care of that. We got our recommend, and headed to the temple. This was pre-1990, and overall, I found it to be an unsettling experience. Even though I had been warned that it was nothing like church on Sunday, there was no way I could be prepared for the temple ceremony. I figured that something was wrong with me, and was convinced that I was just not "getting it." Nonetheless, I told people that it was a "wonderful" experience. I made a second trip to the temple, and found it equally difficult to process. As a convert, I found it offensive. Ultimately, I never went back. I continued to participate in my regular callings, and did so with zeal. I spent most of my time in primary, was a "sharing time" leader, and probably a few other things that I can't recall at the moment. My husband attended sporadically. I became more frustrated about attending church without him, and Sundays were basically a pain in the patootie. I was in the worst mood every Sunday.

It was around this time that I had a conversation with a very intelligent never-Mo friend of mine. I was expressing my frustration with the Mormon Church, but said that I felt that the kids "needed" to be raised in a religious faith. She looked at me and respectfully disagreed. Well, damn! I had never thought about NOT raising my kids in a religious faith. She had a wonderful husband and marriage and two amazing children, and had raised them without (gasp!) any religious affiliation. Wow. How could this be done?!

We very slowly exited the church over a couple of years even though I think that I had been disengaging psychologically over the course of many years. For example, when I was called to a YW position, I accepted the calling with restrictions. I told the bishop that I wouldn't do any of the extra activities because of other obligations, so if he wanted to call me to that position, I could only do the Sunday activities. When I taught classes, I would pick and choose what I thought was worthwhile from the YW manual, and skip the rest. I was reprimanded (gently and with the spirit !) by a member of the stake board for not sticking to the lesson manual as it was written. My kids (particularly one of them) began to balk more and more about going to church, and my husband requested that we not make the kids attend. Eventually, the kids were attending only sporadically while I continued to teach a class each and every Sunday. I finally asked to be released, and can't remember the excuse I used. This was about 10 years after I had joined the church.

I was TOTALLY unprepared for the sense of relief that I experienced. I had expected guilt and shame, but total relief? It really caught me by surprise.

Because I don't have Mormon parents and sibs, our departure was of no significance to them. However, my mother-in-law wasn't so happy, and for several years, made frequent negative comments about our non-participation. I believe that she held me accountable for the spiritual upbringing of our kids, not her own son. Perhaps she knew that he was a lost cause. She was especially unhappy when we did not baptize our youngest when he turned the magical age of eight. Missionaries would show up at our doorstep from time to time. Once they asked if we knew anybody who was inactive. How transparent.

One of our children chose to go back to church, and we supported him financially on his mission. It would not have been our choice, but we decided to support him nonetheless. He has continued to remain active, will soon be married in the temple, and seems to like us despite our non-belief. He's really a great kid. In a sense, he's become very focused in his life, and has used the language skills acquired on his mission to guide his future career. Our other two children do not participate at all. Our mother-in-law has discontinued (at least outwardly) her efforts to turn us around. After all, we are the ones who remain "faithful" in supporting her in her old age (taking her places, paying her bills, etc).

Over the last 10 or so years I've continued to read books on Mormon history and culture: Quinn's "Origin of Power," Anderson's "Inside the Mind of Joseph Smith," Compton's "In Sacred Loneliness," Ure's "Leaving the Fold," Brodie's "No Man Knows my History," Petersen's "The Creation of the Book of Mormon," and Palmer's, "An Insider's View of Mormon Origins." I love Bob McCue's stuff. I continue to be fascinated in people's belief systems, so I suppose that is why I participate here. I've learned so much from the discussions here on Postmormon, and it has helped me sort through my own spiritual evolution. I greatly admire folks like Jeff Ricks who spend enormous amounts of time and energy in providing a place for questioning and struggling Mormons to go when they feel the foundation of their belief system crumbling. I'm grateful for the old timers and newbies here who have offered cyber support and friendship to many, including me. So before this begins to sound too much like testimony meeting, I'll end with the following Martin Sexton song:

Hallelujah (Martin Sexton)

Does Satan wear a suit and tie
Or does he work at the Dairy Queen
Does he listen to rock and roll
Does he feed the mean
Singing Hallelujah
What about Jesus
Didn't he do it too?
Hang out with prostitutes
And have a drink or two.
Power of example
My mama said it and I heard
She says one ounce of action
Beats a ton of words.
Singing Hallelujah.
Mama said there would be angels
Mama said there would be sun
Is the devil in Elvis to go where no white man went
Or hiding in Hugh Hefner's body or maybe even Larry Flynt.
Say, hows about the President shielding all them stones
Man if I could find a shield like that I'd run 'round naked
in my glass home.
Sippin' Hallelujah
I think my angel's gone to Vegas
Sippin' Hallelujah
Holding aces in her hand. Hallelujah
As she's singing rock of ages. Hallelujah
On the table at the Sands. Hallelujah
Does Satan wear a suit and tie or
Does he work at the Dairy Queen.
Does he listen to rock and roll
Does he feed the mean
Streak in all of us.
All us saints here on earth
Hypnotized and over-advertised
'Til we're numb at birth
Singing Hallelujah
And my angel's turning pages
Singing Hallelujah
And she just don't understand. Hallelujah
That the devil's hot on her trail. Hallelujah
On the road to broken promised land. Hallelujah
On the TV and the radio. Hallelujah
Good and evil