Enjoying Church Again
by Dan Wotherspoon
I was recently invited to join a Facebook discussion about Sunday church experiences following a crisis of faith. I was grateful for the prompting to reflect on how I have come, once again, to enjoy Sunday meetings. Some who read my comment in that thread encouraged me to share it more widely. I’m grateful to Rational Faiths for being willing to give it (in this slightly edited form) fresh voice.
It was a long journey for me to once again really love (even borderline crave) Sunday associations and church meeting experiences following my faith transition. For several years, I would come home mad and upset, and I would unload so much at the dinner table or whenever a new flash of frustration hit me that my wife eventually told me, “Don’t go, then!” It was good advice, and it proved very helpful for me to take myself out of the situation for a while, perhaps attending just once or twice a month—and then aided each time by some pre-meeting “psyching myself up” to be prepared to meet with some degree of equanimity the narrowness, boredom, and crazy talk that might manifest that day. For a while I also managed my faith transition by going to the Unitarian church in the morning and getting fed by fresh perspectives and the spiritual breathing room there, then attending my ward in the afternoon. A saving grace for me as I followed these tracks, however, is that even during the darkest times, I was conscious that I was in a transition time and a real God wrestle, that I was a spiritual being, and that I would not ultimately find genuine happiness were I to neglect feeding that part of my self.
During those days of sporadic attendance and on down to now, I found friends in each ward who at least understood to some degree that I had views and perspectives that were atypical, but I was able to sense that they knew I was onto something of worth even if they weren’t themselves motivated to go quite as far down same roads as me. They made me feel welcome at church, and for a while my Sunday morning thought became, “Here’s my chance to see _______ and _______” even though my choice to attend also meant I would likely still feel frustrated during most lessons and talks.
As I continued my wrestle and began to again feel the spirit in my life to a much stronger degree, almost without compulsory means (gotta go Mormon with that phrase!) things began to shift. Church became less about me and the search for insights there and far more about being part of a community that was striving to live well in the world. My spiritual growth soon came in the “church as a school of love” sort of way that Eugene England (following Martin Luther) wrote and spoke of. I began to be able to see the good hearts and desires of my fellow ward members even though they held narrow views. I began to see that their dogmatism or what appeared to be a lack of inquisitiveness was more often than not based in a desire to follow God’s path while keeping chaos and complications at bay. My spiritual experiences became more like watching masks come off and recognizing beautiful souls and beings of light (now going New Agey on ya!) behind what previously had mostly seemed to be hard or “know for certain” exteriors. These experiences have been breathtaking. I also found that if I talked with those I didn’t know—not trying to change them but simply taking the time to share ideas in an open way—our conversations revealed that they also had an internal life, even an intellectual one of sorts, and that they had questions and angles on issues that typical Sunday class Q&A formats never call for. They began to become more and more brothers and sisters rather than close-minded idiots who never had an “outside the box” thought in their lives.
My own contemplations about my Sunday experiences also began to show me that those who bugged me the most were often the ones who were most like me—that I was once so sure I had it all figured out that I would have very likely frustrated the heck out of folks like me who would have then been listening to me pontificate or testify with certainty. I began to realize that I needed to let everyone else have her or his own journey just as I had to have my own. I was the one who had shifted, not them. How could I expect them to have the same experiences and questions I was having at the exact same time as me? I had once been happy and secure in my Sunday worship. Was it fair for me to expect them to be ready to turn on a dime?
I also learned to recognize my “triggers” (in my case, such things the over-abundance of “I knows,” denigrations of scholarship, and sweeping dismissals of other religious traditions and their ideas and many gifts), and once I named these and understood where the things that made me nuts came from in both their hearts as well as my own, I was able to de-fang these triggers a bit, to spend far more time in church as an “actor” rather than just a “reactor.”
I also learned to recognize that not all the best gifts are intellectual ones, that service and an outward focus are even more important, and that our lives do not all have to be about the same thing. I still remained (and remain) very interested in ideas, history, and all the factors that feed into our ideas of God and ultimate purpose, but I learned I could also be there with them and help sustain them on their life course even if it were different than mine. I learned how to, in quite natural ways, signal who I am, and sure enough people who were ready to explore a bit found me. Magically, as I smiled more and became open to them and their influence (of all kinds) on me, they became more open to who I was and what I had to say. I found that most often when I felt something was way off the rails or potentially harming I could speak up, share different angles, and open the discussion in ways that all recognized as still within the LDS worldview but perhaps just not emphasized as much. But I had to be ready. I had to have things to say that weren’t just critiques and “I don’t believes.” It took years to orient within my new kind of faith and to gain the language that allowed me to speak with integrity and from my spiritual well while still sharing values and insights that felt in common with them. More than perhaps anything else, I’m grateful I kept plugging away at this, allowing myself the time and grace to find equilibrium and confidence within a new, more robust kind of faith.
Today it still isn’t always hunky dory when I attend my Sunday meetings. I’m still frustrated at times (now, though, it is far more by missed opportunities to go deeper, to really get to the heart of the spiritual life more than by all “I knows”), but Sundays are a key element in my own spiritual walk these days. I love connecting with my neighbors and sharing a few hours where things closest to our hearts get voiced. I accept them where they are, and they accept me even in my pushing-the-boundaries, rabble-rousing ways. I’m sure not many (any?) know the degree to which I’ve embraced non-literal interpretations or could understand exactly how I have learned to center my faith after all my adventuring, but I believe they recognize my goodness and that I’m a spiritual seeker. More and more they now solicit me for perspectives about how other religions see this or that, or what from my scholarship and wider reading I might be able to bring to the topic at hand. I’m sure I bug and scare some of them, but even those folks I think recognize that I have good intentions, and that I love and serve.
Somehow it all works, and I’m grateful for my experiences on Sundays. I still want things to change, of course, and I do my part to open up discussions and point toward deeper and potentially more transformative views. I try to do the same thing in wider communities, to try to nurture others “like me” who feel called to a spiritual life that encompasses the best from the sciences and humanities and the widest ranges of human experiences and who still prefer to engage in their own tradition if they can. I have found in Mormonism amazing resources and profound teachings that point to full empowerment and an unfolding of the divine nature within us. My strong hope is we will all be patient with ourselves and decide to stay in the wrestle with eternal things and beings. It’s not easy, nor should it be. But, as Jacob discovered at Peniel, there are blessings at the end, as well as all along the way.
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Dan Wotherspoon
Dan Wotherspoon hosts the Mormon Matters podcast (http://mormonmatters.org/). He is a freelance writer and editor, who recently edited the 2013 volume from Signature Books, The Challenge of Honesty: Essays for Latter-day Saints by Frances Lee Menlove. A former editor of Sunstone magazine (2001–2008), Dan has a Ph.D. in religion from Claremont Graduate University. He currently lives in Bountiful, Utah, with his wife, Lorri. They have two grown children, Alex and Hope.
All posts by Dan Wotherspoon
Thanks so much Dan. Exactly, exactly what I needed to read right now. I love you man, yep, all the way from Australia.
That was good for me to read. Thanks
Interesting, thank you. How would you feel about serving a mission post-transition?
Thank you, Dan. Reading/hearing your words and experiences gives me a hope in a more joyful future for myself within the church.
Thank you Dan as always for the beautiful way that you share & give value to your very personal & very real spiritual journey! You continue to bring me hope & bless my life through the many ways you share your love.
Dan, you are such an inspiration to me, and I am so grateful for the work you do. My dh and I frequently say after listening to your podcasts, “We love Dan Wotherspoon!”
I wish we had more opportunities at church to have small group discussions in our classes. I grew up in PA, and I remember my dad reflecting on the interesting, deep High Priest group discussions he would have on Sunday. Even if he and the other High Priests didn’t see eye-to-eye, the nature of a small group made it possible to throw around some really cool concepts at church.
Thanks for the reminder that there are others at church who are thinking things more deeply/differently than the standard materials often being discussed. I need to find more opportunities to have those one-on-one conversations w/ my fellow Saints.
Dan,
Thank you. Thanks for your huge heart that you share with all of us.
Dan, Thank you very much for taking the time to write this. Being truly empathetic is difficult but always worth the struggle and you’ve just made it a little easier.
This was really beautiful. I hope my faith journey continues to progress like yours has.
Thank you so much for this. I have about given up on church, but now I want to read Eugene England again. With this kind of perspective, I think I may be able to go back to church again.
Beautiful.
Thank you Dan, couldn’t be better timing for me 🙂
Dan, it sounds as though you and I have enjoyed parallel paths for the past few years. Where attending church was something just short of torture a few years ago, I now relish the experience each week.
Part of my change came from the realization and acceptance that I was not quite like most of the regular attendees, who tend to draw strength and comfort from the absolute truths they find in the gospel. They were interested in having answers and I was always more interested in the questions (and frustrated that few wanted to explore the questions). After a number of years of allowing that to leave me alienated and baffled, I discovered a mission in my much more progressive approach to the gospel and have found ways to use those gifts to minister to others, both conservative and progressive.
Two influences that were immensely helpful on my journey. The first were two books by Jonathan Haidt, “The Happiness Hypothisis” and “The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion.” The latter was especially helpful to me in understanding some of the innate features of conservative minds and how they differ from those that are more progressive. The second was the LDS “blogernacle,” where I was able to find a community of believers that shared my nature – some of your podcasts have been particularly nourishing for me in my journey. Thank You and may God bless you for the work you are doing!!
Thanks, all! I’m glad this account of my journey has been received so graciously.
I appreciate all the comments, but I’m intrigued especially by Sirius’s query about mission service post-transition, as it’s something I’ve thought about off and on over the past few years. Let me riff and see where this goes.
I WANT to say that I would enjoy serving a proselytizing mission again, but when push comes to shove, I’m not certain I would (or, perhaps more accurate, that it would be the best fit for me). Something more service oriented would likely be a better match, taking some of the pressure off of sharing the Mormon story via a particular or narrow script.
As I reflect on my own mission thirty years ago, I’m struck by how little I think the people who I assisted in bringing into the church latched onto the truth claims as much as they simply were in a spot in their lives when they wanted to step up as people and spiritual beings. They were searching for worthy purpose and community. At the time I “thought” they were converting because Mormonism was TRUE, but now I’m pretty sure that this was a much smaller piece of the equation. Given this realization, I have higher hopes that I could serve a mission again, as I’d love to help anyone in a journey to gain a better sense of their own light, worthiness of love, potential for full flourishing, etc., and I’d love to help them find a community like the one Mormonism offers for moving toward that sense of themselves and providing opportunities for them to extend themselves to others and learn all one can learn only through serving, loving, praying for, and mourning with others. I know that for most people coming from a place of feeling stuck or wanting to feed their spirits to a stronger degree, the church is a wonderful home, and that the storyline told in quite literalistic terms would be satisfying to them their entire lives. So if I found and worked with folks like this, I think I could tell the Mormon story pretty much straight out and happily help bring them into the LDS fold. For others I might work with who perhaps have more curiosity and an adventurous spirit, I would want even on my mission to at least signal the fact that there are many layers to our theology and wonderful insights into who we are and God’s work and glory beyond that which is conveyed in the discussions and during a typical week at church. (And, of course, let them know that I’d love, post-mission, to be a friend and tour guide into any of this if they come to want to explore these layers!) If I could do that, truly, without butting up against a mission culture or leaders who had a narrower vision of Mormonism, then I think I could be happy serving again. That’s a big “if,” though, hence my sense that I’d have greater comfort with a mission that would be primarily about something else with any influence I might have on someone’s spiritual life emerging more organically.
At a broader level, I also think it valuable for each of us to consider our own gifts, and that a “mission” (in the Mormon sense of “going on” one) might be better suited to some more than others, or perhaps better suited for a particular stage in one’s life. Instead of one-size-fits-all, I think those of us who undergo a faith transition and move into a deeper relationship with Spirit (in the wildest, “bloweth whereever it may,” surprising sense of the term) and become better suited to begin to listen for and find our “vocation.” Stemming from the Latin for “voice” or “call,” I’m talking here about that beautiful sense of “Here are the gifts I have, and life seems to have prepared me to be most influential for good in this or that way,” and then whatever we do that’s helpful to this world just sort of “fits” us. We will have found our life’s work, our bliss (Joseph Campbell type of meaning), that thing we do and love because we can’t help ourselves. As we move toward finding our unique vocation and gain confidence that it is indeed our call, concerns about whatever others think, or how close or far it seems from well-circumscribed paths/roles or what others say are the boundaries for this or that kind of service, will simply fall away. Perhaps, in this way, if we do end up on LDS “missions” as adults post-transition, they will be “our” missions and not ones that have to fully conform to the vision held by others. Who “we” are and the “message” we share would be one and the same. THAT seems to me like a great goal.
“For others I might work with who perhaps have more curiosity and an adventurous spirit, I would want even on my mission to at least signal the fact that there are many layers to our theology and wonderful insights into who we are and God’s work and glory beyond that which is conveyed in the discussions and during a typical week at church. (And, of course, let them know that I’d love, post-mission, to be a friend and tour guide into any of this if they come to want to explore these layers!) If I could do that, truly, without butting up against a mission culture or leaders who had a narrower vision of Mormonism, then I think I could be happy serving again.”
You are already doing this with Mormon Matters and I consider myself a fully engaged “investigator” of yours there. So thank you for serving your post transition mission online. 🙂
You could likely do a lot of shaping the message any way you want, as long as your companion doesn’t feel compelled to tell the Mission President about your unorthodoxies, and I can’t see that as too big a problem on a second mission.
Thanks for sharing this. I just attended an Episcopalian service in my small town–about 20 in attendance. I’m thoroughly Mormon, but I’ve been struggling with enjoying church. I tried to really enter into their worship (even participated in the Eucharist, although the wine aftertaste was not something I enjoyed). It was a wonderful experience, but much of that was because it was short, novel, I didn’t have triggers because I didn’t feel like they ought to be teaching only ‘correct’ things, and I didn’t have small children I was trying to entertain. I expect I’ll be able to enjoy church more, again, when it is less stressful, even when I don’t believe some things that are being taught.
Thank you, Dan, for your post. I, too, have tried a similar approach to loving and associating with my more orthodox and conservative ward family. I’m often reminded of how beautiful and needed their simple faith and “do the work” mindset must be to God, as He probably needs “workers” even more than He needs “thinkers” most times when it comes right down to it.
That being said, unlike you, I haven’t found the space to speak and engage in what I would call my more authentic self yet. It’s not that I’m being disingenuous in my ward setting, but that I am still so quiet about my true feelings, perspectives, beliefs (and non-beliefs) about the gospel because most times when I’ve tried to be such I’ve gotten confusion, suspect and “how can we help her understand the true way” type of looks and responses. So, for now, my online community is my only real support (and I’m so thankful I at least have that) for this deeper, truer side of my religious self. And that’s where I struggle at church still – with the feeling of not really having a safe place to speak with integrity and authenticity and be my true self. It feels like I’m existing there with only half of myself known to my ward family and friends, and because they only see the half that they would interpret as “of the same mind” as them (due to my active and serving existence in the ward) sometimes I feel like a hypocrite, though I know that’s not the case. It’s unsettling, and I hope for a time where I can be as open and true to myself as you are, while still feeling a safe place to live and serve among my lovely, more traditional ward family.
Hi Dan,
We met once. I found you to be a thoughtful, extremely nice, and very engaging personality. And while I shuddered a bit at the mere thought of ever going back to those sunday meetings myself (it’s just not in me), I still find you to be a real credit to “the faith” (if I can use those words as an atheist) and a real credit to humanity. Jaded and cynical as I am, I still profoundly enjoyed this piece. Thank you.
Thank you, Dan. I’m still struggling at church, so your current experience is something I really look forward to. I live in a small branch on the east coast where I feel desperately needed, otherwise I think I would quietly cut back on my activity and take a break for a while. Currently, I teach Seminary, Gospel Principles to the new members and investigators, and I’m the Visiting Teaching Coordinator. Three fairly taxing callings. I have the most difficult time teaching when I feel bound to the manual. Sometimes, it’s fine and I can take a broad meaning that helps us all feel empowered to be more loving, forgiving, patient beings. Other times (especially in my Sunday School class) I can’t find a way around the very narrow, literal-minded script and it kills me. I feel so disingenuous. I feel like the new member I’m currently teaching trusts me and appreciates my insights and when I teach things I don’t actually believe I feel like I betray that trust. I’ve thought sometimes that I should ask to be released for my own well-being, but then I think maybe I’m doing some good. The missionaries attend the class and I hope I’ve done something to open their hearts and broaden their views a bit. Ah, but it can be so hard. Some days when I read through the manual and prepare my lessons, I feel sick to my stomach by some of things I am called to teach. Anyway, thanks for this. The gender essentialism in Relief Society yesterday was enough to make me eager to volunteer for nursery next week. That is to say I had a rough day at church, I came home reeling and it was a huge relief to read this and feel hopeful about the future. Thanks again.
Big L,
I struggle with many Mormon things and “know” very very little, but do have faith in the God who has helped me and literally saved me many times. I am also the Gospel Doctrine teacher in a small, provincial branch and have almost nothing in common with other members I worship with. I’ve really have to pray and study to find things to teach from the lessons which I can feel good about teaching. Thankfully, GD lessons focus on the scriptures which are easier to find truths in than a written out lesson plan of mainly Mormon culture curriculum, but maybe you can do it. I have learned the most amazingly open and progressive things from the Holy Ghost as I’ve prayed about what I can teach from the material; I’ve taught D.C. 89 with no mention of coffee, tea, or Coke; we’ve discussed the Proclamation on the Family while noting that it says nothing about and nothing can be logically inferred from it about God’s views on other types of marriage; we’ve discussed the symbolism of gender in the Adam and Eve story; I actually taught parts of DC 132, a section I can’t bring myself to read. I’ve felt very good about the discussions we have in class and I studiously avoid ethics or prophet worship. God has made it possible for me to teach without being an apologist and without compromising myself. I hope you are also able to get answers from God that will help you in that calling if you feel like you need to remain in it. My best to you.
Loved the post, Dan. Thanks for modeling so well how to deal with a faith transition. It hasn’t been easy for me, but having productive examples like you and others has made it much easier.
Another big thank you for this, Dan. Your perspective is so valuable and I can relate so well to this in my own faith transition. (By the way, meeting you at the conference in Houston a couple years ago the night before you gave your keynote “Wrestle with God” talk was and still is a highlight).