Falling Into Life: A Gay Exmormon’s Journey

Chapter Sixteen – The Disintegrating Gospel: Testimony Fallout

Philomathian: From philos “beloved, loving” + mathos “learning”…

When I finally graduated from college in 1991, I was fascinated with literature and the Spanish language. I had learned to read new ideas, global stories, and became enthralled with learning. I had become a junkie for new ideas, and since then I’ve never stopped. According to Brigham Young, “The Glory of God is Intelligence”, and I believed that wholeheartedly! During my sojourn at ASU, I had discovered this curving, aged bench that had the word philomathian inscribed on it. It became a landmark for me, and as I neared graduation, I researched this word and became enamored with it.

It is amazing that this word, dating back to the end of the 16th century, has been almost forgotten. It was borrowed by Latin, which apparently had plenty of use for it, passing it on to French as philomathie, where English nabbed it. Philos appears in many words English borrowed from Greek, including philosophy, the love of wisdom, bibliophile, a book lover and, of course, Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love. In the early 20^th century, Philomathian Societies sprang up around the globe where discussions of modern and worldly things became en vogue and exciting.

I decided to use the image of this bench as my dénouement, and I took a photo of myself on it, and created from this my graduation announcement. I was becoming aware that my exposure to the world was severely limited, and that I truly knew so little about the world I lived in. As I moved into the professional world, the more rapidly this dawned on me. I didn’t know much at all, I had been sheltered to the point of ignorance.

I was also becoming aware that the church leaders were fearful of “intellects”. It didn’t make sense to me, and I assumed these *intellects* were rogue crazies that clung to unproven theories and baseless facts. My dad mentioned to me once a family uncle who had “reasoned himself out of the church”. I didn’t understand, what possible information could lead someone *away* from the church? My dad made it seem as if he was certainly at fault for his “fall” from the truth.

I learned at the age of 38 that I was terribly unhappy, and there were two things driving this fact: The Mormon Church and my homosexuality. Due to my vehement belief in Evergreen and my domestication, I looked more critically at the church first. The level of activity and cost was too much to take, and I felt like I was losing my life in that structure, like I was handing over everything without getting much in return. In essence, the ROI (return on investment) was severely lacking. I did not understand why I was unhappy when I was completing everything asked of me, except in the gay department. Could God be holding me back because I was gay, or would my endless church service and support overcome that sin?

I faithfully wore my garments every day and night, I read my scriptures as directed, I paid my tithing, I *always* held a church calling, even the worst ones, like early morning Seminary Teacher for many years. I was *invested* whole heartedly. But even that level of activity was not bringing me this elusive “happiness” I always referred to, this personal happiness I said I possessed. I just couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I woke up one morning feeling that I’d rather not live one more day in that unhappy state, *that’s* how unhappy I felt. I said out loud for the first time in my life, “I am so unhappy.”

That was the week that my life would change drastically because for the first time I began to look at the information that would lead someone *away* from the church. I didn’t know it existed. And I decided that any form of information, no matter how painful it might seem, would certainly hold up to the truth of the Gospel_©.

Why was I afraid? If the gospel was true, no amount of information would make it untrue, right? If anything, it would increase my testimony, not dissuade me. And so I delved into the world of online recovery sites. In one afternoon I had been so voracious in my studies that I knew the entire church structure was founded on lies. I had stayed home from church for the first time in my life with the idea that I didn’t want to go anymore, and in that one afternoon, I undid 38 years of faulty information.

The biggest eye-opener for me was the realization that feelings do not equal knowledge. This hit me like a wrecking ball hits a dilapidated building! Ka-BLAM! I had been stating my whole life, literally since the age of three, that I *knew* these things were true, when in reality all I had been experiencing were feelings. I realized that feelings create a “belief” but they do *not* create knowledge.

How had I been so misled? I let my mind wander to a year earlier when I had been “coaching” my own son, at the age of five, to get up on the stand in church and regurgitate these very same things. “I know that this church is true” “I know that the Prophet Joseph Smith was a true Prophet of God.” I was guilty of the same domestication tactics that I was now fighting against. My parents had simply done to me what I was now passing on to my own children. What monkey business! This was a “testimonkey” more than it was anything else.

I can’t quite explain the full extent of release I experienced in one afternoon, but a switch had been flipped from “off” to “on”, and there wasn’t a way in the world that it would ever switch back off again. I raced from one subject to the next, allowing my mind to bathe in the new information. It was the best immersion moment of my life. I had gone from hanging off the 3 meter board over a pool by my fingertips to just letting go, falling directly into the deep end. And it felt marvelous. My brain went from rattling in cognitive dissonance to screaming, “A-HA!” every two minutes. I was ecstatic! And then I was mad. Really mad.

I thoroughly researched my top three areas of irritation: The First Vision, The Mormon Endowment Ceremony, and translated Mormon Scripture. Once I had made my way through those three issues, it all might as well have been thrown in the dumpster. And within two years I *had* thrown it in the dumpster, literally.

What I realized was that a person can be taught to emote. I learned that I had been taught to emote once a month for life in what is known as the Mormon Fast and Testimony Meeting. This is a meeting where members get up from the benches when they are “moved by the spirit”, walk up to the pulpit and bare their testimonies. Children are taught at infant stages to begin reciting the correct phrases for their testimonies. And the word “knowledge” is used exclusively as a way to garner strength from your feelings, and as a way to convince the congregation that yes indeed, this church that is draining your life of money and energy, is “true”.

“Morgasm” was the term used by some on the recovery site, a combination of the words Mormon and orgasm where a person feels justified, overwhelmed and excited through extreme emotion. I began to see how this was entirely possible, and that I had sought out those moments where I did bare my testimony in order to feel accepted and stronger in my own beliefs. I realized that if something is “true”, it just *is*. One doesn’t need to continually state that it is true. Did I need to restate daily that it was true that the sun came up? Or did I need to restate continually that the color of the sky is blue in order to make it true? Why in the world, then, did any religion need to have its own membership continually restate that it is “true”, that they *know* it is true?

Feelings ≠ Knowledge.

I gave Heavenly Father one more chance to make his presence known. I was in a terribly depressed state due to this information, swinging back and forth between extreme freedom and awful despair. I got down on my knees and I prayed harder than I ever had. I used the correct way to pray as I had been taught since birth. My heart was raw, I was sobbing, and I was more in need of comfort in that moment than I had ever been. I was tearing apart, rent asunder, as I stayed on my knees for over a half an hour. I was silent so I could hear the Still Small Voice_©, surely in this moment of desperation, sheer terror, Heavenly Father would be there for me. I had been praying to him my entire life, and begging to be straight in prayer since I was nineteen. The least he could do was help me this one time.

In the final moments of that long prayer I said out loud, “You are my father! How can you be so cruel? I am a father and I would *never* do this to my own kids.” And that was it. I dried my eyes, I stood up, and I allowed myself to let it go. I let it all go. It was extremely difficult to do. I walked to my bathroom, closed the door and I purposely took off my garments. I felt alone, scared and naked as I fell asleep. That night I dreamed that brilliant white, luminescent angels came down from heaven and with bloody chrome swords slashed my throat and deboweled me.

The next day I carried the framed Proclamation on the Family out to my trash can, and with a hammer, I smashed it into pieces.

I slowly loaded up the back of my trunk with every Deseret book I owned, every Mormon book of scripture, every Mormon piece of artwork, every cassette tape of Mormon children’s songs, every single Mormon-themed CD, every single pair of garments I owned, my “sacred” temple clothing, my temple recommend, my six hand written missionary journals filled with horrible angst and trauma, every last piece of a belief structure that had harmed me and I drove it around until the time was right.

In one of the most cathartic moves of my life, I drove down an alley one sunny fall day, parked my car next to a dumpster, opened the trunk and threw every single thing away. If it was made of paper, I shredded it by hand. If it was made of material, I tore it in two. And with every single piece I chucked in I said, “Fuck you, Joseph Smith!” I mentally tossed in my “new name” I received in the temple, too. My given name was all I needed now.

I was free of a belief structure that I allowed to harm me more than anything else in my existence. I said to myself with a smile, “I won’t be fooled again!”

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