Are Liberal Mormons Real Mormons?

I believe that the practice of our religion doesn't have to vary as much as our perceptions can and do. I really don't care in the end if the person sitting next to me in church is a "liberal Mormon" or a "conservative Mormon", as long as they are practicing Mormon - even if they are unbaptized but practicing - even if they are hanging on by the skin of their teeth and not fully active but striving to reconcile their own dissonance. (For example, I would rather worship in our pews and learn in our other meetings and associations with an excommunicated gay man who lives the Gospel to the absolute best of his ability than with a baptized member who is a hypocrite and doesn't even try to live the Gospel.)

I am one of those who drives many skeptical intellectuals nuts, since I am so adamant in my ability to say, "I know." On the other hand, I also drive some conservative members nuts, since I am so adamant in my inability to say, "I know" about some things - and my inability to expect others to be able to say "I know" about anything. Frankly, however, I admire those who can't be comfortable saying they "know" the Church is true but live the precepts and attend faithfully every bit as much as those who can make that claim based on powerful, miraculous experience - since, in the end, it is by our faith and our fruits (not our stated beliefs) that we shall be known. ("Not everyone that sayeth unto me, "Lord, Lord . . .") Also, I have a deep admiration for anyone who can live the life they want to believe but struggles to do so, since I believe that is the ultimate example of true faith ("the substance of things hoped for").

"Are liberal Mormons real Mormons?" Certainly, as long as they are trying their hardest - to the best of their ability - to "Come unto me," "Keep my commandments," "Take my yoke upon you," etc. I'm just saying it's not my place, since I currently am not a bishop, to make that judgment about anyone else - even by slapping a label on them, since it's true of ALL Mormons regardless of label.

My Frame of Reference Is All I Have

"It is true that the child’s stubbed toe might not be that big of a deal, and by extension that all our mortal trials are but a small moment, but I do not think that means we should devalue the struggle. I have a tendency to beat up on myself when I find things hard. “This should be easy” I tell myself, or “this isn’t really such a big deal, compared with the trials of others.” Well, it may be a small frame of reference, but it is my frame of reference, and it is all I have.

In the big picture, my pain may be small, but that doesn’t make it any less valid or any less painful. A person with a broken foot is still suffering, even if someone on the other side of the world just saw their family killed and walked miles and almost died of starvation. I think it is not a useful exercise to compare pain or trials in that way, but to feel true compassion for all who are in pain."

Comment #16 by Silver Rain on Trials - Stephen Marsh (Mormon Matters)

Inexpressible Moments of Connection

There have been many instances where I was confident someone understood what I was saying, but about the only times when I knew - with absolute certainty - that someone understood exactly what I was feeling were when I didn't say anything.

The very first time I kissed my girlfriend - and when she handed me our first son nearly six years later; when our second son's appendix burst and our eyes met as they wheeled him into the operating room; when my greenie companion bore his testimony in English as I translated into Japanese, and the 2-year-long investigator burst into tears as the Spirit throbbed palpably; when one of my Primary students hugged me before church; etc. I believe that those who have experienced such inexpressible moments of connection will understand my limited ability to translate those feelings - and my joy in the memories.

Subtle Hypocrisy

We too often are to others what others are to us.

If we can’t control our own feelings or actions toward those with whom we disagree, we have no standing to condemn them for not being able to control their feelings or actions toward us. For example, if we as Mormons speak in universal and stereotypical ways about evangelicals or Jehovah's Witnesses or anti-Mormon activists, we can't complain if they speak in those same ways about us.

We also can’t put the burden of understanding and love on them; we need to pick up that burden ourselves and model it to the best of our ability.

Being Creatively Honest

My father was a brilliant man when I lived in the Deep South. When I had a particularly pointed criticism or comment that I felt needed to be shared, I often couched it in the common terms of that area, "My daddy used to say . . ." I wasn't quoting his actual words, so it usually wasn't "true" literally, but it was more polite - and that was important in that culture.

My father is not classically educated, but he is the very definition of wise and filled with common sense. He rarely sounds academic or intellectual, but he also rarely sounds ignorant. In many ways, "My daddy used to say . . ." would be translated more accurately as, "My daddy taught me that . . ." That, however, would not have sounded so familiar to the hearers - so I didn't draw that distinction.

I have thought often since then about what "honesty" really means at the root level - and particularly about the possibility of being creatively honest. It's been an interesting process.

Silent Saturday

I have been working in Missouri for the last month, while my family has remained in Cincinnati and prepared to move. (Yes, I understand completely that I had the easy part.) Last night, I returned to Ohio for the move next week.

I haven't seen my family in three weeks, and, as much as I love those who come here and read the thoughts I record, you just aren't a top priority today. Sorry. *grin* Therefore, I am dubbing this day, "Silent Saturday". (and it is, since I actually wrote this on Thursday and post-dated it - It's like cosmic light from Kolob; you see it long after it has eminated from its creator.)

So, to everyone who came here expecting something profound, I apologize; it ain't here today. All I have on Silent Saturday is:

Being able to spend time with your spouse and children is a precious gift.
Don't squander it.

I'm not squandering a moment of it this weekend. See you Monday.

A Picture That Will Befuddle Your Brain (Not Religious)

Too Many Spins on the Merry-Go Round (Thmazing's Thmusings)

Men Don't Cry

Growing up, although it was not taught by my father, I heard “Men don’t cry” regularly. I, however, cry regularly when I am moved by the Spirit. (and before anyone trumpets the obligatory rejoinder, I understand very well the difference between what I just said and emotional manipulation) For me, as a male in our society, it is easier to accept sharing personal experiences that are positive than negative, since crying about the positive is seen as a sign of “spiritual sensitivity”, but crying about the negative is seen as a sign of weakness.

I think that’s a terrible shame.

Truly Powerful: Come, Come, Ye (Modern African) Saints

First Excursion of Cameroon Saints: Aba Nigeria Temple

Rural, Suburban and Inner-City Understanding of the Atonemnet

I was raised in dairy and farm country. I have seen animals killed individually - including "beloved" animals, those that might even have been considered pets to certain kids. I have seen the pain in the face of a father who had to "sacrifice a loved one" - and I have heard the discussion of why that sacrifice had to be made in order to sustain life.

I was educated at a liberal arts college in the East. I attended a few Divinity School classes and participated in very deep intellectual discussions about Jesus' suffering and death. I know that this is a serious over-generalization, but, in general, the Atonement was much more tangible to the uneducated kids on the dairy than to those who were studying to be ministers at the Divinity School. The Divinity School students could talk about it more impressively, but the dairy kids felt it in a completely different way. The students understood it in their minds; the dairy kids felt it in their eyes (the pain of watching something die) and their hands (the pain of sacrificing a loved one).

I have worked in the inner-cities for much of the past 12 years. Most of the kids I have worked to help have no concept of dairy and farm life, but many of them understand pain and suffering and death in ways I probably (hopefully) never will. When they accept the Gospel, many of them bring a depth of understanding that is amazing to see - far beyond my own. They couldn't last 30 seconds in a theology class, but I dare say they understand the Atonement better than my fellow students and I did. The students were divorced from death and suffering; the inner-city kids knew each to their core.