My name is Pamela McCreary

“When our leaders speak, the thinking has been done. When they propose a plan–it is God’s plan. When they point the way, there is no other which is safe. When they give direction, it should mark the end of controversy. God works in no other way. To think otherwise, without immediate repentance, may cost one his faith, may destroy his testimony, and leave him a stranger to the kingdom of God.”
~Ward Teachers’ message from the Improvement Era, June 1945

As a freshman at Ricks College, now BYU/Idaho, in 1973, replete in modest dress and full battle-make-up, that sentiment waged war with who I wanted to be: an actress, a bohemian, a performer.

But it was at Ricks where I received the Patriarchal Blessing that informed me of my calling in life: wife and mother. No, not Broadway bound, was I. The leaders spoke. I changed my major from theater and set my sights on my MRS.

In truth, the aforementioned sentiment was always at odds with my rebellious nature, but I truly longed for the blessings born of obedience and righteousness: peace, happiness, contentment, prosperity, etc. I did not want to be a stranger to God. So I truncated that part of myself to “follow the leaders.” My world was very black and white.

Temple marriage at twenty-one set my course. Nine months later the first of my three children was born. Celestial marriage, motherhood and church work, all things I had been told were my path to eternal happiness were in motion. The trouble was I was disappearing into somebody else’s life. But I pressed on so as not to lose my place in the kingdom.

It would be inaccurate to say I did not have doubts, I did. I just never gave them fertile soil in which to thrive. I was taught that questioning leads to apostasy and opens the door to Satan. At thirty-five years old I discovered the former was true, the latter a lie.

My journey began with a book, Joseph Smith, The First Mormon, recommended to me by a friend. Little did I realize that the portrait of the man I revered and sang songs to in Sacrament Service was a nineteenth-century Warren Jeffs. I began to think, what else don’t I know about the church and its origins? All I had been privy to was the white-washed historical version that emanated from the church’s multi-million dollar PR machine.

As I researched the church’s history, an arduous task conducted pre-internet, the fabric of my testimony was rent in twain and in 1989, I officially resigned my membership in the “Lord’s Church.”

In the ensuing years I have found all the things that eluded me as a faithful Mormon: peace, happiness, contentment, prosperity, etc. I am living the life of my own creation, not the one assigned to me. I am happier than I have ever been, and I no longer have moments of terror when I think, “What if they are right and I really am deceived?” The truth has indeed set me free.

My name is Pamela McCreary and I’m an Ex Mormon.