Utah Partnerships for Christ received a letter from the LDS church on November 22, 2005.

The reason this letter is being posted is because I want you to see how the hierarchy of the Mormon church desires to limit the “free agency” (an LDS term) of those with spiritual convictions other than their own. I believe there is a strong passive-aggressive tone to this letter, as the the Mormon church requests that our bright, wonderful young people stop carrying out the Great Commission at places that are clearly marked- “Visitors Welcome”

I wonder if the LDS church headquarters would comply if I asked them to stop sending their international army of 60,000 missionaries to our doorsteps?

I would love to know what you think about this letter.  Feel free to pass it on.

I know for UPFC, we have continued to let the Holy Spirit guide us as to where we go when carrying out the Great Commission.

May we never be pressured to stop sharing the truth in love,

Russ East
Director, UPFC

By a dear friend Tammy and I have had the honor of getting to know here in Utah
As told to Russ East

No other pursuit defined my adolescence more than the spiritual journey I embarked on during that time period, now ten years ago. After the experiences that resulted from my searching, I would condense lessons learned by saying that I strongly believe in the concept of Occum’s Razor…the simplest answers are most often the correct answers.

I was 14 when Mormon missionaries knocked on my door. During that time, I would go to any church I could possibly attend, either with relatives or friends. My mom had taken me to an Assembly of God church as a small child but had stopped attending church long before I reached adolescence. I was very eager to understand God and His plan for my life. However, when I am honest with myself, I realize that wasn’t all I was seeking. I needed a sense of belonging – the kind that I felt neither with my peers or my family. I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself, which in and of itself is not a bad thing. Yet, when that desire becomes so deep that it fosters dependency, it can be dangerous.

I will never forget that day. I invited them in, as I was always eager to discuss things pertaining to religion. In fact, this eagerness was so extreme that, for the problems I had socially and in my family, it was like pouring gas on a fire. I had memorized many Bible verses and never hesitated to quote them, with no regard for tact. The missionaries seemed excited to have a willing audience to their message. They told me the story of Joseph Smith and the First Vision, how God came and spoke to a young boy and answered his questions. I was less than graceful in expressing my disbelief and eventually showed them the door.

About a year went by, and that year brought many changes for me. My parents divorced, which was a good thing, and mom and I were adjusting to life on our own. My relationship with my first boyfriend had ended abruptly. The breakup entailed not only the loss of my boyfriend, but the loss of the only people I felt cared about me. I had gone to his church for a few years. When I witnessed the results of their practice of shunning, I wanted to leave. I knew I would also be shunned and it was the hardest decision I have ever had to make. It was a church that taught that everything outside of itself was evil and corrupt, so I felt that I would never find another spiritual community — as they were all considered to be part of the whore of Babylon. After the breakup and the loss of my religious community, I began binge eating almost anything I could get my hands on. Within a few months, I gained 35 pounds. Also during that year, I was assaulted by a family member. After he admitted what he did and I pressed charges, the majority of my family members pooled their resources and posted his bail. The feeling of betrayal was worse than the assault itself and I felt more alone than ever.

The depression and post-traumatic stress occurring after these events became so unmanageable that I required inpatient psychiatric care. After I was released from the hospital, I decided I needed a sense of freshness in my life. We had a neighbor who became a good friend, and she would help discipline me to take walks with her (which gradually helped me shed all of the 35 pounds). And I wanted to clean my room. I wanted to get rid of old and useless things, clear the air, clean up the dust and let the light in. I wanted to create an environment in my room that communicated wellness, stability and wholeness. During this process, I stumbled upon a pamphlet that those missionaries had left me during their visit. It had a beautiful picture of Jesus coming out of the clouds with his arms wide open. It was inviting, especially at a time when I was feeling so incredibly alone. It caused me to feel curiosity about this church that I had previously rejected. With a feeling that what I was doing would represent a huge change in my life, I dialed the number on the pamphlet. I knew someone there would be able to answer questions about the church. I got a machine, left a message, and waited with anticipation for the call back.

The first time I met with the missionaries, I was very excited. It provided that sense of newness and freshness that I wanted so deeply. Mom wasn’t thrilled at the idea of my getting involved with a church, but it didn’t take long before the missionaries became integrated into our lives. We would invite them over for dinner and eventually gave them a nickname – the men in black. I listened to the story of the First Vision, but this time had a different perspective on it. In Joseph Smith, I found someone I could relate to. I felt like I wasn’t all alone in the world. Here was a kid who was around my age who was wrestling with the same types of questions that I was. He was a kid who had sought out opportunities to learn about the spiritual paths available to him. However, I was concerned when I read that all other churches were an abomination unto God. I too had visited many churches and had met good, honest hearted people in them. To accept the idea that there was only one church that was not abominable in the sight of God would require me to deny my experiences that contradicted that. I simply could not do that. Also, this teaching was reminiscent of the church I had previously left. However, there were so many good feelings that I didn’t want to focus on the negative. For example, I was also taught by the missionaries about the quest for truth, how most people have part of the truth and that Latter-Day Saints believed in embracing all truth, regardless of the source. I was relieved to learn that, because that seemed more in line with what I believed. I decided I would focus on that. That was when I developed the technique of ‘putting things on the shelf’. If something didn’t sound right, I would just put it up on this proverbial shelf and try to make sense of it ‘some other time‘. After all, I was learning so many other things that resonated with me that I didn’t feel the need to get caught up in issues that brought confusion.

One of the teachings that resonated with me on a profound level was the idea that we had all lived with God before we came to earth and gained a body. As a very small child, I had felt that God was close and that He took an interest in my life. When I sang ’Jesus loves me’, I didn’t see it as an abstraction, I saw it as reality. I also felt that I had known and lived with Him before I had come to earth. In fact, if I focused, I could almost remember what it was like to be in His presence. It was nice to feel close to a father in heaven since my father on earth had been someone to fear. When these missionaries validated that feeling I had as a child, that created a bond to the church that would be difficult to break, if it ever completely broke at all. In no other church that I had been to did I find that teaching. It was something so special to me as a child and I thought of it as my own little secret. To hear someone else verbalize those very beliefs after all of those years was incredible, too amazing to dismiss as coincidence. After that, it became even easier to keep putting things on the shelf.

During the discussions, the missionaries had asked me to read the Book of Mormon and ask God if it was true. Once I did that, I felt a unique spiritual connection with God that I had never found elsewhere. I really did experience the ’burning in the bosom’ that is promised. In light of what they taught me about the plan of salvation, I felt that all three dimensions of my life – the past, present and future – all made sense. That none of my experiences, no matter how bad, had been in vain. The teaching of free agency and doctrines on families actually made me realize that, regardless of what my family life had been up to that point, I could choose the type of family I would establish in the future. I was not sentenced to perpetuating the cycles I had seen in my family, but I could learn and grow from my experiences and make sure that the cycles ended with me. I could make a wise choice in a husband and, with him, raise our children in a positive and healthy way. I learned that I was a daughter of God and that I was deserving of a loving family. That was definitely good news!

Still, there were teachings that I did not accept. For example, I immediately rejected the notion of getting married in the temple where those who were not LDS but who had made a huge positive impact on my life would not be invited. I remained close to only a few of my family members, and I did not want to alienate what was left of my family, when and if that time came. However, I could also put this on the shelf, because I was sure I wouldn’t have to worry about marriage for a really long time. Also, in the church I saw a wonderful community that I could contribute to in a positive way and that would help me become the person I wanted to become. And that is why I was baptized as a Latter-Day Saint.

This was a wonderful time for me. I felt that I understood God’s plan and my role in it. That brought some positive changes in my life and gave me a profound sense of purpose. I started to have more passion for life. I went from earning Ds and Fs in school to As and Bs. I began to actually care about my school work because my newfound faith gave me intrinsic motivation to learn. I fell in love with learning, because the church taught me that the more we learn in this life, the better off we are in the next. Thus, school became a spiritual experience. Even my teachers noticed that there had been a change for the better in my disposition. Spring was in full bloom and the campus of my school had tons of cherry blossoms. I saw beauty around and within me like never before. I started to like myself and I developed friendships. I wasn’t alone anymore. I belonged somewhere.

My emotions ran deep, but did not completely blind me to symptoms of problems in the organization. The first or second meeting I attended was a fast and testimony meeting, where members stand in front of the congregation as they feel led and declare their faith aloud. I noticed that many of the same statements were repeated over and over again. ‘I know this church is true’, ‘I know that Joseph Smith was a true prophet and that Gordon B. Hinckley is a true prophet’. ‘I know that the Book of Mormon is the Word of God’. I wondered why, if all of these concepts were self evident, there was a need for monthly reassurance of their validity. I also wondered how they could accuse Catholics of ’vain repetition’ when the nature of testimony bearing seemed to be just that. The missionaries asked me what I thought, and out of respect for them, I gave them my honest opinion. ‘I think everyone is trying to convince themselves’. I wondered why there was a combination of repetition and fasting, because that would seem to make an individual more prone to suggestion. I was also concerned that a church would be so focused on its own truthfulness. I wondered why, if this was really inspired of God, did we need to constantly reassure ourselves of His blessing. I had never heard during other services statements such as ‘I know the Baptist church is true and I know that my minister is a true minister from God’. So many other churches I had visited were more focused on helping people develop their relationships with God and their fellow man. I didn’t understand why the focus was on the church as an institution, an issue that would cause great problems as the years went on.

A few months after my baptism, I stumbled upon a doctrine that is a source of great embarrassment for the church, especially now that they are trying so hard to fit in with the mainstream. I was helping out in the church library, and overheard a conversation in which someone was talking about exaltation (which, up to that point, I thought simply meant going to heaven so I never questioned it) and ruling their own planet. I was very confused and I asked my Young Women president about it. She helped me to understand that this is what the term exaltation meant, and I was troubled because the missionaries had never elaborated on that. Yet again, I put this on the shelf. I rationalized it by telling myself that they probably thought I knew what they meant and there had just been a miscommunication. I respected the missionaries and considered them friends, so I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Simply because I had joined the church didn’t mean I was going to give up my inquisitive nature. I read the Book of Mormon faithfully and asked a lot of questions. Ward members were very gracious, but I sensed there was an issue and wondered if I was seen as sort of a nit-picker. I would ask questions about passages of Scripture that confused me, hoping to have a dialogue. In very kind and gentle ways, I was told to pray about those things. (Since the church doesn’t have a professionally trained ministry, leaders are usually not as equipped as a professional would be to provide insight and elaboration on the Scriptures) I didn’t really understand that, because I wanted to dig into the Scriptures and gain understanding. I knew that the book of Proverbs admonished us to seek for truth as for hidden treasure, and that was what I wanted to do. I felt that I had been given so much by finding this church, and I wanted to be the best daughter of God I could possibly be. I felt that understanding my faith on deeper levels would help me accomplish that. I soon learned, however, that church was not the place to dissect Scripture and address those types of questions, that I simply needed to pray and feel for an answer. Many years later, when I asked a missionary for his perspective, he angrily told me that he went to church to feel the Spirit, not to hear from the Scriptures.

Even when I first joined the church, there seemed to be fear in some of the ward members. During a conversation at church, something was mentioned about long underwear, and I asked one of the members about it. She became very agitated.

‘Nothing, it means nothing’ she said and then hurried me into the car. When I asked about how oil was consecrated for blessings, I received a similar response, although I found out years later that the church itself does not consider that privileged information. I also had many questions about the temple and couldn’t understand why it wasn’t discussed. When something is forbidden, the curiosity only grows stronger.

Within a few months of my baptism, I did get a chance to go to the temple with the other youth in the ward to perform vicarious baptisms for the dead. The Mormon church teaches that baptism by their priesthood authority is essential for salvation, that baptisms in other churches are not valid, however well intentioned the participants may be. They claim that the authority to perform baptisms was given to Joseph Smith by Peter, James and John returning to earth to confer that authority upon him. This is part of what Mormonism claims to be the ’restoration of the gospel’. Authority is deeply important in the LDS church. Because there is an abundance of individuals who have died without receiving Mormon baptism, one of the ceremonies performed in the temple is baptism on behalf of the dead. The doctrine is that people are taught the gospel (according to Mormonism) after they have died and passed into the spirit world, and have a choice to accept or reject it. If they accept it, they need a person on earth to be baptized for them, since they no longer have a body. Men are baptized for men and women are baptized for women. I felt very positive about participating in this. After all, the members explained to me that the atonement of Christ itself was a vicarious work – he was doing something for us that we could not do for ourselves. I was very excited about going to the temple, it was certainly shrouded in mystery. We drove six hours to the nearest temple. I was somewhat troubled during the ride there because I wasn’t really connecting with any of the other young people. I had so much passion for my new faith, and when I would try to share my enthusiasm, I mostly got blank stares. In hindsight, I wonder if perhaps they didn’t want to be involved in the church, but their parents made them go. Maybe they were wondering why someone like me, whose parents weren’t dragging them there, would be part of this voluntarily. Maybe they thought I was just nuts. I am guessing, but I will probably never know.

Despite the awkwardness of the drive, getting off the freeway, as I saw the angel Moroni over the trees on the spire, I felt like I had come home. We waited in the annex of the temple for a while until everyone arrived. The annex looked just like a hotel lobby. I remember sitting on one of the couches devouring the Scriptures. Once everyone was there, we went into the temple itself. We left the annex and went through a second set of doors. The funny part about the second set of doors was that the glass was designed in such a way that you couldn’t see through them. They were the entrance to the baptistry. As soon as I walked in, I felt very nervous. Everyone around me looked exactly the same, dressed in white jumpsuits. Those who worked in the temple to assist the patrons were in suits and dresses, but everyone was in white. I had never seen anything like that before. As I was handed my jumpsuit, I was trembling and had a few tears in my eyes. I made my way to the dressing room, and when I came out, I looked just like everyone else. In many ways, once I was dressed, I felt so much better. My whole life I had never been just like everyone else. I was always different, always an outsider. Now, I was an insider, and I was just like everyone else.

I sat with my YW president by the font, watching my peers get baptized. Everyone did 25 names while they were in the font, and my bishop was doing the baptizing. I was glad it wasn’t a stranger, because I had always been terrified of water. It was explained to me how happy all of the people would be whom I was doing this for and I was told that sometimes the spirits of the dead appeared in the temple when someone was being baptized for them. Finally, it was my turn. For as much as I dreaded being dunked under water, I did okay…until one name came up that I still remember. As soon as I was baptized for her, I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to get out of the font, but I had to finish. That is what was expected of me, and I didn‘t want to make a scene. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. One night after I got home from the trip, I couldn’t sleep. I kept tossing and turning and felt a very dark presence in my room. I would hear that name over and over again when I did fall asleep, and then I would wake up. I didn’t understand why this was happening. The next morning when I walked out of my room, mom gave me a look that sent chills up my spine. She said ’You look like you’ve seen a ghost’. With as much as I had begged her to let me join this church, I wasn’t about to share any of what I experienced.

I don’t remember how soon it was, but I know that a time came when I attempted to address this concern. I spoke with a few of my leaders. Some said that perhaps this mysterious woman had not been receptive to the gospel and was angry at what I had done, but she has her freedom of choice. Why would someone reject the gospel? Well, because there was something wrong with them. Perhaps she had not been a good soul. Other leaders got irate and told me not to discuss this, especially in the presence of the other young women whose testimonies were fragile. Eventually, this incident would take its place on the ’shelf’.

The weeks and months that followed my baptism were very turbulent. Of course, I interpreted this as opposition from Satan, indicating that I must have done the right thing by joining the church. Mom had remarried, and my new stepfather and I did not get along, to put it mildly. At times, he became verbally and physically abusive, and I ended up running away. My stepfather’s behavior was not only a danger to me, but it was a danger to my mom. When I ran away, I begged mom to come with me and she refused. I stayed with my YW president for a short time, and did a lot of bouncing around for two years after that. Even though I have left the church, I could never deny the role that the members in my home ward played in helping me find my strength. I desperately wanted stability in my life, and I wanted to establish a life for myself that would minimize the impact of my families’ choices on my life. Months after graduating from high school, I decided to move thousands of miles away to Utah.

Once I made the decision, things happened very quickly. I found an apartment contract online, mailed a deposit and the signed contract and bought my plane ticket. I narrowed down my worldly possessions to two suitcases. I was excited about the adventures that awaited me in Utah and hoped that the move would give me the stability I was looking for and help me to become a better, stronger Latter-Day Saint. I also hoped that I would meet people in my age group who I could connect with. My bishop was very concerned about the move, but ultimately supportive. He and his wife had been so kind and loving toward me during those two years that I considered them family. They had helped me in ways they were not obligated to. I never question the sincerity and love of the people in my ward during that time period. They wanted me to be safe and independent. Not long before the move, Bishop J met with me in his office. He asked me if I had a testimony, and I told him I did. Then, he asked me if I was absolutely sure of that. He seemed worried about the impact that moving to Provo would have on my relationship with the church. However, Bishop J was a very kind and caring man and seemed torn. On the one hand, he wanted me to find safety and stability. On the other hand, he knew that Provo would present a different kind of challenge than what I was expecting.

There were some rumors circulating in my family that somehow the church ‘hoodwinked’ me into moving to Utah, that the church was to blame for my leaving, and there is absolutely no truth to that. I was never made any promises about getting into BYU, I was not coerced (if anything, my Bishop voiced his concerns about my decision) and I paid for my expenses entirely with money that I had earned and saved.

And so I proceeded to carry with me to Provo an excitement about the unknown, high hopes and dreams…and not much else. I had saved enough money to last for about a month, but I bought a one-way ticket. I knew I was ready to not come back. Up until that point, I had traveled no further ‘west’ than Tennessee and did not know a soul in Provo. I didn’t see it as strangers who awaited me – just a bunch of friends who I hadn’t met yet. At times, I still wish I had the optimism – and naivety – that I had then. I am grateful that I acted on that sense of adventure, my gut told me that if I didn’t do it then, I never would. I didn’t want to find myself an old woman one day regretting what I never tried.

When I arrived at the Salt Lake International Airport, the family of a missionary I had known back home was waiting for me. He had broken the rules and called home (missionaries are only supposed to call home once for Christmas and once for Mother’s Day) to make the arrangements. So, that night, they took me to my new apartment and I met the girl I was buying the contract from and my new roommates.

I was in awe of everything I saw – from the grandeur of Mount Timpanogos to something as simple as the Relief Society announcements hanging from the refrigerator. I hadn’t really had the experience of my home life and my church life being melded together, except for the people I stayed with when I ran away. Up until this point, I felt as if I had one foot in one world (that of my family) and one foot in another world (that of the church). I wanted so much to bridge the gap and be a good example to my family. I was amazed at the opportunity I had to have consistent support for my membership in the church right in my own home. My move to Provo had not been out of a desire to insulate myself and only surround myself with those who shared my faith. Yet, it was the ideal place for me to create a fresh start because I would have a built-in social network.

This was going to be great. On my second day in Provo, I took the bus by myself to the Provo Temple grounds. It was January and frigid, but I spent as much time there as I possibly could. It felt so surreal to have a temple in such close proximity. Not long before I had moved, there was a temple built about an hour and a half away from where I lived, and I had assisted at the Open House. This temple was practically in my back yard. I remember my jaw hitting the floor when I walked into Wal-Mart and saw the LDS section in the books, or when I heard the boy bagging my groceries talking about his new bishop. The church had never had such a strong presence in my everyday life – it was everywhere I looked now. I was living the dream.

I was nervous about going to my new ward for the first time. It was a BYU single’s ward, and so everyone there would be between 18-30, with the exception of the bishopric. The great thing about this was that not a soul knew what I had left behind. I had a glorious opportunity to reinvent myself, I could be anyone I wanted to be without the baggage of my past. However, my naivety manifested itself in thinking that I could take myself out of everything and be a whole new person. It took me a while to realize that removing myself from my circumstances had been a great start, but there needed to be a profound healing within my soul. My quest for that healing would come to define the years I spent in Provo.

There is more to come, check back soon for the rest of the story…