Walking into Metal Chairs

by Karina

audio

Let me share an old Young Women’s activity that I went to when I was a Beehive.

The activity setup was about discernment: identifying the right voices and listening to the Holy Ghost. A maze of folding chairs was set up in the cultural hall, and the point was to navigate the maze from one side to the other. You would wait outside the door, a leader would put a blindfold on you, and then open the door for you and guide you gently to enter. Once inside, directions were shouted to you by the YW president (who I didn’t really click with) and a member of the Bishopric.

At the time, there had been a lot of lessons on priesthood, so I thought the answer was to follow the directions from the bishopric counselor. I thought this had to be an activity to reinforce those lessons. I started to follow the directions from the man, and I felt like I was going in the correct direction, but I kept walking into the folding chair obstacles and I thought it was my fault. It was never fully direct contact at the beginning, but more like when you cut a corner really quickly and get a sharp counter top edge right in your side.

Over and over again, I was clipping these folding chairs with my foot, my knee, and then finally I was fully stepping forward into these chairs over and over again. I realized I was at a dead end. So, my assumption was incorrect, and I had chosen the wrong voice to follow. This activity was not about listening to the priesthood or to the Holy Ghost or to God as male voices. I don’t think that it was thought about that deeply. I did begin listening to the directions from the YW president and was able to navigate the maze and back out to the hall.

Recently, I experienced internal moments of intense, hopeful personal growth, followed by frustration from external sources that felt like two hard-won steps forward, and then getting hit by a car and dragged 50 feet back. As I was trying to process these heavy feelings, this memory from the cultural hall suddenly popped into my mind. Stewing on it over the past couple of days, I realized a painful truth: I have again been walking into folding chairs for a very long time.

On a drive early this morning, on my own, I was ruminating on this past again and snapped! I shouted at myself in the car saying, “Enough! No More Reliving the Yuck! What would you re-craft this memory to be instead!?!”

So, here is what I would re-craft, recreate, and replace that Beehive experience to be for my thirteen-year-old self.

I can’t change how the leaders did the activity and I would probably still do everything the same up to the point where I realized that I was at a dead end. And then, I would stop, take a deep breath, and take off the blindfold. I would realize that I don’t need to strain to hear outside voices in order to get directions or instructions telling me what to do. I have all the information and context I need through my own senses, physical and metaphysical, to take the first step in front of me and then trust myself to continue to evaluate what to do next.

I HAVE ALL THE INFORMATION AND CONTEXT I NEED THROUGH MY OWN SENSES, PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL TO TRUST MYSELF.

The maze hasn’t changed, and the room is still loud with competing opinions on how I should move through it. But the blindfold is off. I no longer need to bruise myself against obstacles just to prove I am listening. I am responsible for my own choices, and I am the one who needs to make them. The real dead end wasn’t the maze itself—it was the belief that someone else held the map to my life.

Breathe

by Carri

Naked, exposed, 
no shelter but the cascade of scalding water.
But here I stand, In a shower of realization. 
Truth, in glistening drops, 
bounce and trickle all the way down.

Breathe

I am afraid, 
afraid that you won’t love this version of me, 
afraid you will only judge and judge and judge.
And when I’m afraid, I retreat.
And when I retreat, you feel unloved and abandoned.
And then you are afraid, 
and you don’t have words to express that fear.
The flood of anger, blame, and judgment
swirl about my feet.

Breathe

We both recall how you took my hand, 
led me from who I was to a new me,
the me who clothed my nakedness with Love and Spirit. 
Yes, for a season, certainty held me, 
Wrapped me up safely, and perhaps too tightly. 
“Conform; don’t grow more than this.”

Breathe

But life and growth are inseparable, 
and maybe pain, too. 
Naked again, 
perched atop this tattered cocoon, 
and stretching cramped wings, 
still trailing shame and fear,
I breathe in freedom, expansion, and hope. 

Breathe

The woman, the girl, the child, the infant, 
All I have ever been, all still there inside me—
Some so obedient, so compliant—
But this season, this me, 
She is beautiful, and intricate, and new, 
With unfamiliar colors and patterns. 
If she surprises me, why would she not surprise you?
Where I find newness and growth, 
Like nectar, like air,
Perhaps you feel only the loss of that earlier me. 
The one you chose. 
The one you know. 

Breathe

It’s still me in here.
I’m still me, and I’m still here. 
And I want you to see me. 
I crave your love and acceptance, 
but I feel from you only what I fear:
Disappointment, judgment, resignation.
Do you see? 
Not standing in my way doesn’t feel the same as love, 
Not the same as acceptance. 

Breathe

I want to bridge this gap in hope,
No sting of disregard, of otherness, 
From the very one with whom I should be one. 
Growth is painful—
Sweet, bitter, beautiful, painful growth— 
But here I stand, 
On the eve of something,
On the morn of something.
Mourning something.
Wings untested, 
Waiting.

Breathe

The Night Hike

by Kristine Napper

Before I can tell this story from Girls Camp 1997, I have to

acknowledge that every adult involved genuinely loved us and believed they were doing something good. With that caveat on the record, I take you back to a Wednesday evening in the woods…

Gathered in the camp’s amphitheater, we’d been singing silly songs and performing skits. With the sun about to set, the stake president took the stage. We assumed he was going to kick off the annual night hike. The year before, we’d pretended to be the children of Israel following Moses through the wilderness, with lots of costumed visitors and immersive activities along the way. We were excited to see what this year’s theme would be.

Instead, the stake president told us gravely, “I’m sorry, but we need to delay the night hike. We’ve received word there are unauthorized guests on the premises. Until we get the all-clear, nobody should be crossing the grounds. Just head back to your ward’s tents, and sit tight.”

(Spoiler: This was a lie; the night hike had already begun. It’s obvious now when I’m telling the story, but I was an innocent barely 13-year old in an innocent decade to be a child. At no point in this story will my young self suspect she’s in a simulation.)

We all went back to our campsites and gathered around the fire. It was getting dark, and we were getting nervous. We didn’t know what “unauthorized visitors” meant, but it didn’t take us long to start freaking each other out with what it could mean. I tried to keep my own voice calm, but only because the girl sitting next to me had grabbed an axe from the woodpile, and I was afraid she’d take a wild swing if startled.

I’m not sure how long we waited, but I know it was completely dark when we heard the junior staff running down the dirt paths. The ones from our ward stopped and shouted at us, “We’re evacuating the camp! You can bring one personal belonging, but we need to get out of here now!”

Pandemonium. Girls ran every which way, grabbing stuff and screaming at each other. A few of the most practical girls carried flashlights, while others snatched their journal or snack stash. The one girl clung tightly to her ax. My own fight-or-flight system was entirely focused on fleeing the danger, so I stayed empty handed. Nothing I’d brought to camp seemed even a little bit important. Somebody, presumably an adult leader, put out the fire.

We followed the junior staffers through the dark forest, quickly losing any sense of where we were. I use a power wheelchair, and I normally move slower in the outdoors because the bumpy terrain is rough on my body. That night, I didn’t care how bumpy it was. I was racing along as fast as the rest of the crowd.

Until a leader stopped me. I was told the others were taking a route that wasn’t wheelchair accessible, and I’d have to go a different way. I didn’t ask questions. My mind was only repeating let’s go, let’s go, let’s go. I followed whoever they told me to follow, and a small group went with me. I remember a ward leader, the stake president, and Axe Girl in that group.

Now separate from the main group, we heard gunshots in the distance. My heart was racing faster than it ever has before or since. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go. We couldn’t move fast enough for me. New thoughts started crowding my brain, like Where is my dad?? He was a camp dad that year. Why hadn’t he come and found me? If he wasn’t with me, protecting me, was he ok? More gunshots. Crying, holding back screams, trying not to make noise.

We emerged from the path we’d been following through the woods into an open field. The gunshots sounded closer. It was pitch black except for the lantern we carried. “They’re going to see us!” I whisper-screamed. I thought I heard men’s voices shouting in the distance, something about getting those Mormon girls. We tore across the field, an easy target. Ax Girl and I sobbed hysterically. I kept repeating under my breath, “Heavenly Father, please keep us safe, please, please, keep us safe, Heavenly Father, please…”

We continued like this on another path through the woods, and the next thing I remember is arriving in a clearing where the rest of the girls were gathered. White lights were strung around the area, and an adult was addressing the group.

Jesus taught through stories, healings, lectures, discussions, example, and probably more, but never through manipulation. It takes faith to let our young loved ones walk their own spiritual journey and discover their own truths, and it is our job to offer guidance.

At this point, we were supposed to understand that the whole situation was staged and there was never any danger. I don’t know how long everyone else had been in this meeting spot calming down, but I was too deep in panic to connect the dots right away. It looked to me like a space that had been prepared for the real night hike, and now we were using it to gather, load the cars, and escape. Some of the other girls were still as distraught as I was. Others were acting calm. A few were giggling. It was so confusing. Why are we standing around? We need to go!

Slowly, my amygdala ceded control to the reasonable parts of my brain, and I was able to hear the camp director talking about our pioneer ancestors who’d been chased out of their homes by violent mobs. This was supposed to help us understand the Mormon pioneers. We had never been in real danger. The gunshots were firecrackers. The voices were the camp dads. My dad hadn’t rushed to save me because he was busy scaring me.

They sent us back to our ward campsites, which looked like a tornado had passed through. As we cleaned up and relit the fire, we were instructed to hold testimony meetings.

Tears kept flowing as we sat in a circle, taking our turn to talk about what a spiritual moment we were having. We needed to explain the feelings that overwhelmed us, and we needed this to be the positive experience Girls Camp was supposed to be, so we scrambled for the words to make it so.

It’s been almost 30 years now, and writing this story still makes me shaky and tense. A family member who doesn’t know what I’m writing just passed by and asked if I’m ok; apparently I don’t look it. Every time there’s a mass shooting in the news, I flash back to being shot at while carrying the only light source across an open field. I’ve never actually been shot at, so I don’t feel like I’m allowed to claim an experience that’s real for other people. But at the same time, my nervous system believes it was real. There was no blood, no injuries, no loss of life. Everything was fine. But it didn’t feel fine. It still doesn’t.

To his credit, the stake president apologized for the part he played in the deception. He belatedly realized that he had given the Young Women reason to lose trust in our leaders, and he wished he hadn’t done it. A few parents in the stake were vocally upset about the whole ordeal, but only a few. Mostly I heard sympathy expressed to “the poor camp director” who cried when she got negative feedback.

At the time, I said everything I was expected to say about how much I learned and was touched by the Spirit. But I quietly felt conflicted. As an adult, at least I can say that I’m no longer conflicted. The whole activity was a terrible idea. It was well-intended by faithful and loving leaders, but somebody should have realized early in the planning process that it was a terrible idea.

At the most basic level, I can’t believe nobody considered the “what ifs.” Convince hundreds of teenage girls that they’re in mortal danger and send them running through dark woods. Some grab weapons. Some panic. It’s a miracle no one was seriously hurt.

We didn’t just learn about trauma that night; we experienced it. Trauma rewires the brain and continues to live in the body, especially if there’s no support afterward to help with healing. Nobody encouraged us to process our trauma. Just the opposite, we were immediately led through denying anything traumatic had taken place. We were expected to express gratitude and speak positively about the whole experience.

Everybody responds to experiences differently, and I’m sure plenty of girls left the night without any lasting scars. But I can’t be the only one who permanently lost some degree of my sense of safety. I now lived in a world where life could turn upside down or even end in an instant; a world where the adults who’d always represented protection and truth might lie to me. I recognize these are lessons everyone has to learn eventually, and it’s a privilege to avoid it in early childhood. But I believe in letting the cruel world teach its cruel lessons in its own time. It’s our job as loving adults to be sources of kindness and safety in kids’ lives, not the intentional source of pain. In other words, trauma will touch us all in some shape or form, but we should never manufacture trauma to teach a lesson.

I’m afraid this night at Girls Camp embodied one of the most toxic patterns of our religious culture—spiritual manipulation. The whole event stirred up overwhelming emotions and lots of crying. We’d been trained our whole lives to associate big feelings and tears with spiritual experiences. The lesson was heavily reinforced that night. We felt outsized emotions that most of us had never felt before, and were told it was the Spirit. We cried, and were brought into a testimony circle. How were we supposed to learn to listen to our bodies’ danger signals, when they’d been identified as spiritual? How were we supposed to trust our spiritual intuition, when emotions and spirit were indistinguishable?

If this piece makes it to any of the people who helped lead my Girls Camp in 1997, I hope they know I have nothing but love for them. I also hope that with time, we’ve all gained more wisdom. As we teach the next generations of children and youth, let’s keep referring back to Jesus Christ, the Master Teacher. He never needed tricks, manipulation, or gotchas to teach powerful lessons that resonate through the centuries. He calmed the storm to ease His disciples’ fears, but He didn’t create the storm. He was asleep when it started; it was a natural phenomenon. Jesus taught through stories, healings, lectures, discussions, example, and probably more, but never through manipulation. It takes faith to let our young loved ones walk their own spiritual journey and discover their own truths, and it is our job to offer guidance. Teaching without overstepping is a tricky balance, but Christ has set the example for us to follow.

The Prayer After the Prayer

by A.L. Call

Only after I kneeled
And said the opening dear,
Remembered to start with thanks
Before asking for needs
Never forgetting to dot my thys
And cross my thees
And close in His name
Amen

Could I crawl into the lap of my bed
And wrap my blanket tight in a hug
And feel the weight of the day
Be soothed by the tears on my pillow
It was really hard, I’d cry.
Where did I go wrong?
How am I going to do this?
Is this all there is?
Is it enough?
Am I enough?

Then an inner peace
Would caress my wounds
And heal my sorrows
My burdens lifted and set aside
And love would cradle me to sleep
Singing me the lullaby
Of the worth of my soul

The first was a formal letter.
A once drafted letter
Which I copied and pasted
And copied and pasted.
Someone else’s prayer.

The second is a visit with a friend
Where I don’t have to hide
But can share, listen, confide.
When I tossed out the one
The other was still there.

From a listener:

Hi,

I was listening to your book yesterday. I’m not at the end yet, but the chapter I was on talked about talking out loud at church about things not working for you. I tried that about 2 years ago and it didn’t go well. It was the first Sunday of the month. We had all received an email from a young man serving a mission in which a man in Oklahoma who was a native American wanted to join the church. First he smoked. He switched to vaping, but they had to tell him that that too was forbidden. Secondly, in their tradition, they smoke a peace pipe and they take one inhale and pass it around. He would have to give up that ceremony to be initiated into the church. My heart broke for him. I got up and shared that. I was crying. No one should be turned away who wants to join. Jesus wouldn’t turn someone away and say, “Go fix yourself and when you’re nice and clean, come back.” In addition, on that very week we were reading Galatians which says that no man is righteous enough to save himself. We are saved by grace and our good works are insufficient. (Paraphrasing!) I suggested that we should lower the standards for baptism but for those wishing to go to the temple and who’ve been around for a while, then impose these standards. How is it reasonable for someone to fix themselves without the support of the church? And when you get baptized, the Holy Ghost is your constant companion. So before you have the help of the Holy Ghost you need to fix yourself first. If we could fix ourselves, then what would we need with the church and God? (I joined the church 11 years ago, so it wasn’t that long ago that I went through having to reorganize my life into a tiny box to be acceptable to the church to get baptized.) In addition, I pointed out that the word “Unworthy” in the dictionary means “worthless; of no value.” We ought to use a different word, like not qualified, etc. It is brutal to say that to someone who is being turned away and told that their sins are too awful for them to associate with us or be in the temple. I know, because it happened to me. But when a person is in a situation to not pass the inspection, sometimes they are in a fragile place. I was. I was a single mother with 3 kids with no family and no friend. We were having a financial hardship. Then I found the church and was so happy. Then I was denied a temple recommend and found to be “unworthy.” I was excluded from events. It was humiliating. I was already fragile. I cried and wailed for months. My daughters and some other people saw the pain I was in and never wanted to have a part of the church. Doing this to me did nothing to make the church attractive to other investigators.

The result of sharing this? A lady came up on stage and interrupted me and reminded me that the purpose of this time is to share my testimony of Jesus Christ. So I concluded with, my testimony of Jesus is that he would never turn away one of his lambs who wanted to come to him and say, “Go fix yourself first and then come back.” As I spoke I saw a stone-faced crowd. No one had anything to say to me afterwards. I cried the rest of the hour as I was so distraught over the man being rejected. The bishop recommended I speak with the missionary when he returned. Other members told me that “unworthy” doesn’t mean “worthless” even though that is what the dictionary means. They didn’t know what it did mean. When I was found unworthy I was told I couldn’t go to the temple cause my presence would cause the Holy Spirit to leave the temple and my presence there would ruin the experience for everyone in the building at that time. Wow, I’m pretty powerful. We have a suicide epidemic that even the US government recognizes. They call it “suicide alley,” the corridor west of the Rockies—Idaho, Utah and Arizona. Their suicide rate is 2 1/2 times higher than the rest of the country. I would propose it is this use of the word “unworthy.” The Bible says, “worthy is the lamb” in Revelation. It is the only place where worthy is used, as best as I know. Men were righteous, but not worthy, in the days of old. They could call us “unrighteous.” Or even straight up sinners. But being told you are worthless and of no value is hurtful beyond measure, when your family members will not get saved and be in the same heaven as you. Or the reverse, they will get saved and you won’t get to the right heaven. Your golden ticket into heaven is what will make it possible to be united with your family and the bishop, one man’s opinion, keeps you in eternal outer darkness or some lower heaven. There is no appellate court. If you disagree, only his opinion counts. I told him I am worthy, but he disagreed and informed me that I had unholy thoughts. The Bible says, no man knows the thoughts of another man. But this man did! My daughter’s name is Daniella. The meaning of Daniel is “God is my Judge.” Well, the bishop is my judge. And isn’t Satan’s sin wanting to be like God, or have his power? So, isn’t the bishop doing the same thing as Satan? How could someone detest me so much as to wish me into outer darkness or a lower heaven and never to be reunited with my family? When I show up, tithe, help others. Yet he condemns me to who knows where but somewhere bad. How could anyone have such hate in their heart to do that to another?

Here’s another question that hasn’t been answered adequately. Genesis 1-3 We made man in OUR own image. Male and Female WE created them. From there we know that God was male and female and they together created Adam and Eve. So how is it that in the temple ceremony, the mother isn’t there participating in the creation of man? How is it Father and Son are doing it all together and the Mother isn’t even there at all. The ceremony goes against Genesis. Am I the only one who sees this?

One of the core issues that bothers me is that no one has an opinion about anything. They see nothing wrong with the word “unworthy.” They think it’s great that this man won’t get baptized. I guess they’ve never been on the receiving end of the rejection. I had a concern about why women couldn’t be witnesses in the temple. Oh, no no no, women can’t be. We don’t have the priesthood. No, no no. They like it that way. Then suddenly women can be witnesses and isn’t that great! Well, pick one. It’s great or it’s wrong. I see many things change. Prior to the change I said to the lady missionaries, wouldn’t you like to wear pants during the week? Oh, no. It is such a privilege to make this small sacrifice for the Savior and the building up of the kingdom for Christ. Then they make the change and they wear pants. What happened to building up the kingdom. Remember, it could only be accomplished in a dress? You loved wearing a dress? And now they are so happy for the change when a short time ago they defended the practice and loved it. Why can’t anyone have an opinion. Something as small as changing a light bulb. I said, wouldn’t it be great to get recessed lights instead of fluorescent? No takers. But if we got them, they would then think it was great. How can I be around people with no thoughts in their brain? It makes me crazy. I beg them to name one thing they don’t like, but are willing to go along with cause those are the rules. They can’t think of one. I’m like, how about new light bulbs? How about women being able to give a blessing for healing? They are just silent. Have they never thought about it? How do they have college degrees but no ability to have rational thinking? And I wind up castigated ever so gently. We are to show support and not be contentious. We must obey when we don’t understand. But what happened to democracy? And everyone’s opinion mattering? And trying to make a place better for having been there?

So I’ve been beaten down to showing up, like you, but keeping my mouth shut. No one wants to hear my opinion. My daughter too is gay. I think most families have a gay in there somewhere. And if not gay, some other thing that is unacceptable to the church. But they deny it. They don’t know a single gay person. Well shame on you. You have to be so holy to be acceptable in the temple that you can’t associate with the homeless, the prisoners and the gays. Only from a sanitary manner. Ok, it’s not always like that, but sometimes. One day on a Sunday morning after the coldest rainiest night, a lady read a fictional story about a little girl who froze to death. Everyone was in tears. I said, isn’t it interesting that this was read today. Last night surely many people in Los Angeles froze to death. When people are wet and the temps are below 40°, some people freeze to death. Their response? “That’s not true.” I don’t know how to help people who just want to live in a fantasy world of rose colored glasses. It is scientific. Street people die. I personally know of 3. And the quick and simple answer, instead of feeling the pain of someone dying is, “That’s not true.” I said, well, what do you think they do? “They go inside somewhere.” Did you provide shelter to anyone last night? “No.” Then where do you think they go? “The government has somewhere.” All 70,000 were housed? Impossible. Why do they fight me? They could just say, “That’s a tragedy.”

So I enjoy the friendship and activities. I believe in some of it. I like most of the lessons. But I have learned to keep my mouth shut or I will be publicly rebuked. Sometimes someone has quietly shared a hurtful story, but mostly I have learned to keep my mouth shut or I will not be welcome. So, when you encourage us to share, I have learned that this is not a safe place in which to do that. I really hate that part of the church. And, in fact, my attendance has been sloppy this year and I stopped tithing. The magic is gone. I no longer aim for a temple recommend.

—Cathy Williams

Hi,

I just was listening to your Episode 235 and there are several things that stuck out to me.

I am a mom of a young woman. She’s 14. Every path that she’s been told will lead to success is probably not there. Nursing, education, computer science, science at all—these are paths that are traditionally held out. Doctors. Lawyers. But the costs of education are so high. She’s an athlete. She’s trusting in her athletics to cover her schooling so that she can get a degree in the first place.

She’s getting the same messages her aunts got. I was never a YW. I’m a convert. And I always grew up with the idea that I will work and have a career. Being a mother was never ever on my radar. And being a mother isn’t on her radar. She pushed back in seminary when they said the equivalent of priesthood for women is motherhood. She asked what happens if she can’t physically have kids? Or if she can’t afford them. What happens if things don’t work out. Is she less? And why is her spirituality tied to something about her body? Isn’t she worth more than that. And I guess she inspired a revolt because I got the joy of meeting with the seminary teachers.

I’m shocked at how resilient these girls are. And how willing they are to take their friendships from seminary and all into the real world and rely on those. They have hope. They have amazing ideas. And they do not let adults squash on them at all. But the messages they’re getting are still the same ones her aunts got. It is just not the same world, but it is the same messages.

At some point the church is going to have to adapt or they will lose all the young women. She knows several gay young women who are in seminary because they believe, but who have plans to leave the church because the church can’t accept them. She’s decided that she won’t continue when she’s on her own either because the church lacks the flexibility or general desire to change with and support the youth as they are experiencing the world, and relies on the “older” times instead of leaning into what they are going through now.

Just wanted to throw all that into your discussions. Again, I love your podcast. But the church is going to lose them all.

—Natasha Wunderlich

I just finished listening to episode 170 and 171, and one part stood out to me. Susan and Cynthia and C.A. Larson were talking about how in the Bible it says that our sins will be shouted from the rooftops and how terrifying that was to learn and think about as children and youth in the church.

I’m currently reading books about the Bible and am taking a break from attending church meetings—though I still consider myself to be a faithful member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I discovered, to my horror, that only 8 of the 27 books in the New Testament can be traced back to their authors. And that the apostles never ever claimed to have written a Bible, or even wrote records for that matter. Almost every biblical scholar through the years has agreed that the Bible is a compilation of copies written decades AFTER Jesus had already been crucified. Luke was not written by the apostle Luke. Matthew was not written by Matthew. The apostles were illiterate and simple fisherman, how could they have kept records? They didn’t. Rich gentiles from the other side of the country heard accounts of Jesus, years after his passing, and wrote them down. It is horrifying to me that I never knew this. And while I know the Bible is flawed and has always contradicted itself at times, why was I never taught this?? All of these biblical teachings that were held against me and made me feel little, small, and worthless…and only one apostle can be traced to being a TINY part of it. Here I was thinking I was receiving everything I should know on how to repent and live my life along with the Book of Mormon.

I remember that verse about sins being shouted from the rooftops terrifying me as well, and I’m 26! Times are not changing quickly and neither are the lessons the church is choosing to emphasize. I can only hope that my daughter does not have to listen to these same teachings based on copies of copies of copies of rich men and who knows how many different accounts and eyewitnesses they used to write the Bible. Or I don’t know what I will do about my attendance in the church. I don’t want her to be afraid of my heavenly parents like I was and am.

—Olivia Muller

Sources : Jesus, Interrupted by Bart D. Ehrman.

Contributors:

Karina

Carri

I’m a communications professional who is still working to claim my voice in my own life. I both joined the LDS church and became a wife at 18. After 30 years all in, I’ve been navigating the journey toward differentiation and the 2nd half of life for about the past 10 years. I’m a mother to three amazing humans, and I find my joy in family, words, ideas, mountains, stars, and green things growing.

Kristine Napper

I am a lifelong reader, writer, wheelchair user, and taco aficionado. Born and raised in Washington, now living in Oregon, I have a a very Northwest soul. I teach 7th grade social studies. I also spoke at TEDxPortland and wrote, “A Kids Book About Disability.”

A.L. Call

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If faith is a moving thing, that implies change. To say you’re on a journey means you’re actively engaged in going somewhere. In the ALSSI community, the word faith often gets paired with the word journey, but also with deconstruction, shift, or transition. None of us are standing still, but it can feel frustrating or even lonely when we’re each moving at our own pace. Fueled by recent conversations with listeners, Episode 276 is a check-in with Cynthia and Susan: an honest look at where we’ve been, where we are, how we’ve gotten here, and where we want to go.

Notes & Quotes:

ALSSI Ep. 82, Holy Discomfort
Here’s what I said yesterday from the pulpit at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, by Nadia Bolz-Weber, The Corners, 9/14/2026
Whatever happened to Rob Bell? The pastor who questioned the gates of hell, by Sarah Pulliam Bailey, Religion News Service, 12/2/2014
What We Talk About When We Talk About God, by Rob Bell
Faith As Participation, Center for Action and Contemplation, 12/8/2022
Think Celestial!, by Russell M. Nelson, 10/2023
Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith, by Rob Bell

“So when we ask Jesus how we can possibly forgive people who have hurt us, I
wonder if the question is actually a much more tender one. Maybe what we are
really asking is Lord, how do we stop feeling the pain.
Because even when we want to move on. Even when we try to move on. Our hurt finds a way to keep tapping at the window [...] and then we let it in and put the kettle on and rehash the whole precious thing again.
How many times Lord, will it take to stop telling the same story the same way, how many times will it take to stop feeling the hurt, for the whole thing to finally be a scar and no longer a wound.
How many times, Lord?
It’s going to take a lot of times, Jesus says, more gently than we would.
Then he adds, It might even feel like 7 times 70.
But the repetitions all count toward the day you don’t hear your hurt self tapping at the window. And even if you do hear it, maybe you no longer open the door. Maybe you compassionately say to the part of you that was wounded: I see you, I see what you endured, thank you for what you taught me, but I don’t have room to make you tea and serve you biscuits anymore.
Until one day, you are free.” —Nadia Bolz-Weber

“I never spent a minute wondering whether I’m in or out.” —Rob Bell

“Or to say it another way, God has made my life better. I don’t mean this in a shallow, trite, then-I-believed-and-now-I’m-happy-all-the-time way, but in a deep, abiding, satisfying way. I move more slowly than I used to because I don’t want to miss anything. I find more and more beauty and meaning in everyday, average moments that I would have missed before. I need fewer answers because I see more.” —Rob Bell, (pp. 125-126)

”God refuses to be known intellectually. God can only be loved and known in the act of love; God can only be experienced in communion. This is why Jesus “commands” us to move toward love and fully abide there. Love is like a living organism, an active force-field upon which we can rely, from which we can draw, and we can allow to pass through us.” —Richard Rohr

“Never take counsel from those who do not believe.” —Pres. Russell M. Nelson

“If the gospel isn’t good news for everybody, then it isn’t good news for anybody. And this is because the most powerful things happen when the church surrenders its desire to convert people and convince them to join. It is when the church gives itself away in radical acts of service and compassion, expecting nothing in return, that the way of Jesus is most vividly put on display. To do this, the church must stop thinking about everybody primarily in categories of in or out, saved or not, believer or nonbeliever. Besides the fact that these terms are offensive to those who are the ‘un’ and ‘non’, they work against Jesus’ teachings about how we are to treat each other. Jesus commanded us to love our neighbor, and our neighbor can be anybody. We are all created in the image of God, and we are all sacred, valuable creations of God. Everybody matters. To treat people differently based on who believes what is to fail to respect the image of God in everyone. As the book of James says, ‘God shows no favoritism.’ So we don’t either.” —Rob Bell

Yes, it’s October and when it’s gorgeous, it’s gorgeous! As these moments grow fewer and farther between, I appreciate them more.

But I’m going to be honest and tell you that when I drew this little cartoon of myself about 15 years or so ago, I was telling the truth. I’m not a lover of fall, nor even a liker. I think this is actually a body-problem for me, not a mind one. The changing light is not my friend.

No matter! I just try doubly hard to celebrate all the goodness, and there’s plenty of that, so let’s check out a few things that are making me happy right now.

Cool Stuff People Do.

Asemic Writing

You may have heard me talk about asemic writing before, a hybrid art form fusing text and image. Your brain registers the marks as writing, though they have no meaning whatsoever. You’re free to interpret it for yourself. This stunning photo from Barbara Galinska of her work reminded me of General Conference: A stream of revelation, pouring down from heaven (as characterized by your average church member).

What does it all mean? That’s for you to decide.

********

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What feels safe to say? It’s a question many Latter-day Saint women weigh before speaking up. Some don’t feel at liberty to say what they really think in certain settings or relationships. Some may speak up confidently for other people but struggle to champion their own needs, values, or convictions. Some self-edit to avoid being seen as difficult, selfish, contentious, negative, ungrateful, or just "too much." In Episode 275, Susan and Cynthia are joined by coach Sara Fisk to talk about how women can develop the skills to say what they need to say and help create change: at church, at home, and in personal relationships.

Notes and Quotes:

Sara’s website, where you can sign up for her free weekly workshop
Find Sara on Instagram here

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Many thanks to listener Amanda Gunderson for her work in transcribing this episode!

This episode can be found on any podcast app or can be listened to here on our website as well. All the notes and resources we cited in the episode are found at this link as well:

Listen to Episode 275

SF: I was in ward council meetings when Elder Ballard said, “You know, we want the voices of women, but not too much.”

CW: Right. Get us back on track…and then stop.

SF: Yes. I was in an actual ward council meeting in my ward when a bishop warned the Relief Society president that she was in danger of violating Elder Ballard’s counsel to ward councils.

SH: Ouch.

SF: And so we’re constantly doing what I call good girl math, which is internal, this internal cost benefit calculation. Okay, I wanna speak up about this thing. Is it worth it? Is it too much? Am I being too demanding?

CW: Hello, I’m Cynthia Winward.

SH: And I’m Susan Hinkley

CW: This is At Last She Said It. We are women of faith discussing complicated things, and the title of today’s episode is Creation Begins With Speaking Up, a conversation with Sarah Fisk. Welcome, Sarah.

SH: Hi, Sarah.

SF: I’m so excited to be here. Thank you.

CW: Well, we’re excited to have you, especially about this topic.

But before we jump into that meaty topic, Sarah, do you wanna just give us a quick bio of who you are and what brings you to this conversation about speaking up?

SF: I’d love to. I am a woman who had to learn, first and foremost, how to speak up in a lot of situations that I was never taught how to express what I wanted.

In fact, I was actively, like a lot of the women listening, probably all of them, taught that I wasn’t supposed to have needs or have wants that inconvenienced anyone else, that were burdensome to anyone else, that cost anyone else anything. I was supposed to be good. I was supposed to be happy and grateful, and I, while I enjoy being a lot of those things, I also am, like all of you, complex and have feelings about the fact that I got married and had a bunch of kids that I wasn’t necessarily always prepared how to mother in the best way and that I grew up with rules and roles kind of given to me that I didn’t fully agree to or take on or know what would cost me.

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by Susan Hinckley

My mom was curious about people.

Whether she knew you well or was meeting you for the first time, she’d ask, “Tell me about a day in your life. What does that look like?” She asked questions, and listened to their answers. She wanted to know, what is it like to be you?

You may have heard me say the ALSSI project has felt like the most meaningful work I’ve ever done. What I mean is I’ve experienced more concentrated personal growth in the past decade than I can remember at any other period. I’ve learned it’s a privilege to sit with women of diverse ages and experiences, to be offered so many sacred stories to hold.

Cynthia and I recently finished our CAC Living School study. Richard Rohr introduced me to Archimedes’ idea:

The yearlong course left me with a feeling that I am at the beginning of the work I want to do, not the end of it. In many ways, our podcast marked the culmination of one specific growth spurt in my life; to maintain my growing edge, it must also be the beginning of another.

Sometimes things conspire to get our attention, so I’ll also tell you that while recording our podcast conversation with Jenny Richards, I had what I can only describe as an experience. Her story of suddenly knowing—in the middle of the night—what she was supposed to do, was hypnotic for me. Or maybe electric? Whatever that feeling was, as she spoke I suddenly “knew” what I needed to do.

So of course I set to work formulating a thousand arguments against it.

Enter Richard Rohr—he’s managed to throw a whole toolbox of the best possible wrenches into my life over the years. This time, several months after the experience with Jenny, he set me on a search for what Archimedes’ words might mean in my own life. Before the CAC afterglow wore off, I wanted to take a concrete step. I set aside my thousand well-crafted arguments—

and enrolled in Spiritual Director training.

Now I always wanted to be the Mormon Anne Lamott, but the one thing I knew was that Mormons absolutely did not want an Anne Lamott. An irreverent writer chronicling her spiritual life that absolutely refuses to stay within the lines? (We’re good, thanks!)

But as I think about that, it occurs to me the only thing members of my church might want even less is a spiritual director. Someone who will light a candle, sit down and invite you to unpack even the murkiest corners of your heart with no judgment (and no testifying, GC talks, or Liahona articles) whatsoever? (Hard pass.)

Well, here’s the report from my first weekend of classes: five minutes in, I was blindsided by my own bawling. I thought, what is happening?!, then immediately knew I was feeling The Big Yes.

My church may not want spiritual directors, and its members may not know what to do with one, but no matter. It isn’t my certainty about where a road leads that makes it worth following.

I don’t know much about spiritual direction yet, but so far I’ve learned it basically boils down to one thing: holy listening.

And if there’s one thing I’ve often not felt as a Latter-day Saint woman, it’s that I’m being listened to. I could explain, but I bet I don’t need to.

Holy listening is described as:

It’s Jesus-listening. Think about the ratio of questions he asked to questions he answered. I believe the disparity between those two numbers is meant to get our attention: Asking and listening must be key to loving and understanding others. My mom knew something.

The holy listening of spiritual direction holds space for people to meet God, right in their own stories. It’s not about “directing” at all, but rather accompanying. In this practice there are always 3 chairs: one for the director, one for you, and one for the Spirit.

Now I might get a bishop who’s a great listener—maybe even a natural, intuitive spiritual director. In an interview, I would generally assume the Spirit to be present and active. But there’s a power differential that, for many members, privileges his inspiration over mine. His office makes him the official Spirit channel, because God is in the priesthood, and that mantle never rests on me.

Only once in my life did a bishop approach giving me a calling through curiosity about what it was like to be me. As a result, it became clear to him the calling was not a good fit at the time. I felt seen. Little wonder that remains my favorite interaction with a leader.

For most of my church life, I haven’t observed or experienced much holy listening among members. If someone raises an idea in a lesson—or even just a conversation—that’s (ahem) not on the approved list, how often are they met with, “Will you please say more?” Which explains why, when something thorny or even just complicated weighs on my soul or psyche, it can feel easier to keep it to myself.

And now we’re really getting to the point of this long introduction: Is anybody listening? How about asking? I mean up there, in the velvet chairs.

I’ll just say it: holy listening on the part of the church organization? Zip. Zero. Nada. At least it feels that way where I’m sitting. I know, it’s anthropomorphizing to suggest an organization could listen, but let me explain.

It’s never a 3-chair conversation: the Spirit is not assumed to be, first and foremost, on the members’ side in our church, but resides (along with the power) with whatever authority is speaking. Any disagreement I may feel, anything that hurts me, any offense I may take, will rest solely on me to resolve, and the Spirit won’t take my side.

There’s no 3rd chair needed when the Spirit is in the leader’s pocket.

If this sounds overly cynical, or even bitter, well—I’m feeling both those things. A few weeks ago, we had a pod conversation with Dr. Jana Riess about women leaving the Church. We wanted to put our heads together to explore and give airtime to some possible reasons behind the statistics. We pulled our ideas for that discussion from a pile of data: Our data was anecdotal, the result of years of messages from/conversations with women that have so often left us saying, “the women are not okay,” and Jana’s data was research data.

Recently I saw someone share that episode on her personal social media, where it was immediately batted back at her with an all-caps reply about the number of converts, punctuated with 3 words: STOP BEING NEGATIVE. I was sad, but not surprised. As I said, I don’t expect a lot of holy listening among members.

But I’ve been flummoxed—I don’t know a better word for it—by the Church’s response to the same data we referenced in that podcast. First, I saw a Church Newsroom post pushing back with:

“Across the globe, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is experiencing a season of spiritual vitality and growth. Official Church records show consistent worldwide increases in both membership and participation. We are encouraged by increased participation among our children, youth and young adults in the United States over the past decade.”

Then, the Deseret News published an article that, in my opinion, went way over the top trying to convince me all is well in Zion, especially for women. Apparently we have more marriage, more babies, less divorce, more overall happiness, and strong testimonies of every blessed thing (they were careful to include the priesthood).

In other words, who cares about that little statistic about young women leaving?

These rosy press releases may accurately describe membership trends overall—I am not privy to their sources. But I am allowed to raise questions when spin conflicts with the reports I receive from women themselves.

The source of my flummox-ment is not an organizational tap-dance around numbers. It’s that, in a church where we’re supposed to care about each other’s spiritual well-being, in the weeks since these stats about young women leaving came out I haven’t detected any official acknowledgment that there might be a problem.

No curiosity (no soul-searching about how we might improve).

No empathy (no sorrow expressed for the pain of others).

No focus groups (maybe there are, but then I wish someone would contact a few of the women of this community with an invitation—seems like it would be a good place to pick up participants).

I don’t think the Church is indifferent to any of the things we talked about with Jana Riess. I don’t think leaders are blind to women’s experiences. Blind-spotted, yes—we all have those. But these are well-educated men who can read statistics and project future impacts. And I think they care as disciples, not just on the level of running a business. But whether or not they do hardly matters, because a total lack of curiosity on the part of the organization—and many of its members—reads as not-caring. It’s a real, “don’t let the door hit you on the way out” vibe.

As a Latter-day Saint woman, have you ever been asked by curious Church leaders, “Tell us about a Sunday in your life—what is it like to be you?” I haven’t.

Is there any conversational room with 3 chairs in it, where I could sit with Church leadership, and they might engage in a little holy listening to some of what I have witnessed, felt, or experienced in 63 years of Latter-day Saint woman-ness? I’m not unique—setting aside my own experience, what about the thousands of messages from other LDS women?

Is there space for holy listening between members and leaders, where the Spirit can move freely on every side—soothing, inspiring, guiding questions, helping us glimpse each other’s hearts?

There’s some real pain among the women of this church. There just is. Not all women, but any is too many within the body of Christ. I can’t think of a justification for arguing with others’ pain.

We’re not alone in having our questions and concerns glossed over or waved off, but I’m focusing on women because Cynthia and I see and hear about it every day. Witnessing this pain is what fuels my desire to improve my skills now: I want to companion people in their spiritual lives with better language, but mostly with holier listening. I want to know what it’s like to be you … and you, and you. As a professed follower of Jesus, I want others to feel God’s love, not indifference.

I want to carry three metaphorical chairs with me wherever I go, creating a space where people feel safe to sit down. I believe any chance of finding God in our lives must reside in our own story.

I remember when Cynthia and I were interviewed on Richard Ostler’s podcast, and he asked us, “Does anyone from Salt Lake ever reach out to you to say thank you?” Then the 3 of us laughed—REALLY laughed—because of course not (they don’t thank him either, incidentally, and I believe they couldn’t thank him enough). Not that we want thanking, but in having our conversations and creating safe space for members to ask their own soul questions, set down hard things, and get curious about one another’s experiences, we’re doing work we wish the Church would do. It would help, and I know this because so many of you tell us every day that it does.

I believe every person—in or out of our church, and every other—longs for holy listening, and I’m counting on that being a skill that can be learned. Anyway, I’ll spend the next two years trying.

Susan Hinckley

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It’s a commonly stated idea that politics and religion don’t mix, but for many Latter-day Saints it seems there’s no separating the two. And this fuzzy boundary extends beyond the opinions and practices of individual members: While claiming neutrality regarding political parties and candidates, Church leadership sometimes officially “addresses issues it believes to have significant moral consequences.” In Episode 274, Cynthia and Susan dip a conversational toe in this charged topic—at last!—with political junkie (and ALSSI team member) Sarah Morse. Grab your popcorn and your ballot ... but also your curiosity, imagination, and personal authority. Let’s talk politics!

Notes & Quotes:

The Family-Centered Gospel of Jesus Christ, by Dallin H. Oaks, 10/2025
Ejaculate Responsibly: A Whole New Way to Think About Abortion, by Gabrielle Stanley Blair
Pantsuit Politics
Mormon Women for Ethical Government
Letters from an American, by Heather Cox Richardson
The Preamble, by Sharon McMahon

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Many thanks to listener Kim Kerhsaw for her work in transcribing this episode!

This episode can be found on any podcast app or can be listened to here on our website as well. All the notes and resources we cited in the episode are found at this link as well:

Listen to Episode 274

Episode 274 (Transcript): What About Politics?

A Conversation with Sarah Morse

CW: Before we jump into today’s episode, we want our listeners to know that we recorded this episode just a few days before The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints issued their statements on abortion in anticipation of the Idaho and Nevada midterm elections. Enjoy this episode

SH: Sarah, I wanna ask you the question: What do you know? What’s one thing that you know today?

SM: Well, as I mentioned, I turned 50 this year, and I grew up in the ‘80s and ‘90s, so I really absorbed a lot of diet culture, beauty standards, supermodels, all that stuff, and so I’ve been spending years now trying to shed some of those faulty ideas.

SH - Detox.

SM - Yes.

CW: Detox.

SM: And what I’ve come up with lately is thinking about … Because as I look in the mirror, I see that my face is aging, and I look different than I thought I’ve looked for the past many years. And at the same time, I’ve never known more than I knew in my life, right? Like, what I know right now, I’ve never known more nuance and details and people’s stories, and I’ve educated myself about lots of different things.and so my brain, I feel like, has never been more full of interesting things, and so I’ve started thinking about my face is the wrapping paper for my brain. Like, my face and my body are just the wrapping paper for my brain and my heart and who I am as a person.

SH: Love that!

CW: Love it!

SH: Thank you.

CW: Hello, I’m Cynthia Winiward.

SH: And I’m Susan Hinkley.

CW: And this is At Last She Said It. We are women of faith discussing complicated things, and the title of today’s episode is What About Politics? A conversation with Sarah Morse.

SH: Gulp. What about politics? Hi, Sarah.

SM: Hi there. Thanks for having me.

CW: We are so glad to have you. I’m so glad that complicated is in our title if we’re talking about politics today, ‘cause holy moly.

SM: Yep.

CW: Are we ready for this? Everybody buckle up. Before Sarah introduces herself, we just wanted to say that Sarah is the social media person behind all of our lovely graphics that you see on Instagram and Facebook and Substack. And so thank you, Sarah, for making us look shiny and brand new. We really appreciate that.

SM: Oh, I love it. It’s such a fun job.

CW: Well, let’s jump in then, Sarah. Why don’t you give us a little bit of a bio that will help us give context to our conversation today?

SM: Sure. I am a lifelong church member. I will be 50 this year, and so I think I’m, like, right in y’all’s demographic. I’m from Illinois. I grew up in Illinois, but then I’ve been in Texas for the past 20 years, which means that I use “You guys” and “Y’all” kind of both. And because I live in Texas, I feel like we kind of lead the nation in some of these political issues, so I feel like we’re on the edge a lot of times of some of these debates. Lead the nation not in a good way necessarily, but- ... we have a lot of these hot topics bubbling up in Texas. Anyway, I went to BYU for a year, my freshman year, and I wasn’t quite the right fit. But I studied political science. I transferred to another school in Illinois, and so I have a bachelor’s degree in political science. And frankly, that kind of ends my qualifications. I was thinking about it like, you guys have professors and therapists and all these professionals on. My qualifications are that I am interested in politics, and I read a lot, and I care a lot about it. And so I hope that’s actually kind of inspiring to people who-

CW: 100%

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Hello!

Now that we’ve tipped over into pumpkin spice, it’s time to check in with the ALSSI calendar again to see what’s coming up.

Calendar:

9/29 Ep. 274: What About Politics? | A Conversation with Sarah Morse

10/1 Say More No. 70 | Susan Hinckley

10/1 ALSRI Book Club, 7:00 pm Mtn | The Moment of Lift

10/6 Ep. 275: Creation Begins with Speaking Up | A Conversation with Sara Fisk

10/8 Worthy Stuff | Susan Edition

10/9 Friday Live Chat, 10:00 am Mtn

10/13 Ep. 276: Honest Talk from Susan & Cynthia

10/15 Say More No. 71 | Listener Submissions

10/20 Ep. 277: Let’s Talk About Happiness | A Conversation with Natalie Brown

10/23 Friday Live Chat, 10:00 am Mtn

10/27 Ep. 278: What About Heaven? | Listener Voicemails

Book Club is almost here!

Our last book club meeting of the year is just days away. If you haven’t started reading, there’s still time, and even if you don’t read the book we hope you’ll join us for the conversation. The discussions never disappoint! The selection chosen at the July meeting is Melinda Gates’ The Moment of Lift: How Empowering Women Changes the World.

At Last She Read It Book Club
Thursday, October 1
7:00 pm Mtn
Register to receive a Zoom link here

See you. next week!

Reminder:

Here’s your monthly reminder that Say More can’t happen without your help! We hope you’ll consider sharing an essay, poem, story, anecdote, episode response, artwork—anything! You can find submission guidelines/instructions here, or click submissions on our website menu.

At the risk of repeating ourselves …

September is our ALSSI Substack anniversary, and to celebrate we’re offering a special rate—through October 1, you can snag a paid subscription for $60/yr. You’ll get all 4 of our Thursday newsletters, 2 Friday Live Chats/mo. (if you can’t attend live, listen to the recorded session at your convenience), and access to our ongoing community chat on Substack. It’s the best corner of the internet! We hope you’ll join us. As always, if you can’t swing a paid subscription, we don’t want you to miss out—send us an email and Katie will set you up, no explanation required.

Also, remember that ALSSI is a 501c(3), and your contributions—not Substack subscriptions—are tax-deductible. We’re honored every time you think of us when making the choice where to donate.

To everyone who supports us financially in big or small ways, thank you! You’re amazing, and we’re deeply grateful. ❤️

Hope you’ll plan to join us—for the podcast, through social media, on our Substack, in our chat group, or on Zoom for a book club or Friday live meeting. See you everywhere!

Warmly,

Susan, Cynthia, and
the At Last She Said It team

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In Episode 273, Susan and Cynthia ask Mary, Laura, and Evann, What Do You Say? It’s Season 12's first installment of ALSSI’s series of conversations with Latter-day Saint women inspired by their answers to questions in 3 categories: memories, insights, and beliefs.

Notes & Quotes:

Hear more from Mary on ALSSI Ep. 180, Embracing Your Journey | A Conversation with Mary Cox

Speaking of women’s work: “Because we make it look effortless people think it’s valueless” —Asma Khan

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Many thanks to listener Rachel Cousin for her work in transcribing this episode!

This episode can be found on any podcast app or can be listened to here on our website as well. All the notes and resources we cited in the episode are found at this link as well:

Listen to Episode 273

EH: I’m not falling for it. I’m not going along with that, so I’m gonna call out the BS when I see it. And I continued to do that, especially into Young Women’s where everything was focused on marriage and children. And I would say, I would make that correction when someone was saying, “When you get married, when you have kids,” and I would say “if, if, if” and I would say it-

CW: Nice

EH: -pretty much every time. And I knew at that point, I knew I was a thorn in their side. I knew that they got what I was trying to say. I also knew that I wasn’t trying to be mean, but I was still trying to say, “No, but you’re forgetting about me.”

CW: Hello, I’m Cynthia Winward.

SH: And I’m Susan Hinkley.

CW: And this is At Last She Said It. We are women of faith discussing complicated things, and the title of today’s episode is What Do You Say? Three Conversations About Pearls Before Swine, Identity, and Rebellion.

SH: I love these wide-ranging conversations, Cynthia. They’re so fun.

CW: Me too. I’m excited. This is our first What Do You Say of Season 12. We’ll have a handful of these episodes throughout the season, but why don’t you go ahead and tell some of our new listeners what is this franchise that we have of What Do You Say.

SH: Okay. Whether you never knew, or you forgot, or you already know, I will just tell you fast that What Do You Say is our At Last She Said It card game, which we stole the idea from the NPR Wildcard Podcast. So if you’re a fan of that, then you’ll know exactly what we’re doing. If you’re not, maybe you should be. Cynthia turned me onto it, and it’s great. But this is a game where we ask women questions from three categories: memories, insights, and beliefs, and they answer the question. And there are a few rules-you can turn the question back on the person who asks it, or you can pass on a question if you want to. I think we actually did have someone pass on a question-

CW: Yes-

SH: -in this episode.

CW: -we do.

SH: So you can do that. And we also played this game at our live event over the summer, and it was so good. It was so much fun.

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The God I Don’t Know

by Erin Gong

For most of my life, I had a fairly simple picture of what

a relationship with God was supposed to look like. If I sincerely sought Him through prayer, scripture study, temple worship, obedience, and sacrifice, He would respond. Maybe not exactly how I wanted, but in ways I would recognize. Peace. Guidance. Comfort. Direction. A sense that Someone was on the other end of the conversation.

As a teenager and into my twenties, I built my life around that expectation. I read my scriptures every day. I prayed. I accepted callings. I paid generous fast offerings. I read General Conference talks and filled notebooks with impressions. And the formula seemed to work. Decisions worked out for my good. Unexpected opportunities appeared. Sometimes I felt prompted toward a particular conversation or choice. Other times I felt nourished or reassured.

One semester at BYU, I took a seminary teacher training course. We learned to identify if/then statements in the scriptures. There was even a name for them: principles packaged for application.

I loved it.

If I do this, God will do that. That was a world I understood.

After graduating, my husband began graduate school and we moved across the country. I was accepted into a graduate program myself, but decided I would only attend if I could find a teaching or research position that would cover tuition. Otherwise, I couldn’t justify taking on debt for a degree I wasn’t sure I’d use.

I applied everywhere and heard nothing. A few weeks before classes started, we doubled our fast offerings. Not because I thought I could bargain with God, but because I believed sacrifice invited blessings, even if those blessings arrived in an unexpected form.

A week later, I was offered a teaching position that paid my tuition, included health insurance, and came with a generous stipend.

It was all working.

I finished school. I found meaningful work. We had three children. We moved again for my husband’s career. Through all of it, I kept expecting God to respond.

Then, somewhere along the way, He stopped. Or at least, it felt that way.

There wasn’t a single moment, but there’s one memory that captures what began happening inside me. I was driving our 1999 Toyota Corolla after dropping our three young children off at preschool. I was headed home to squeeze in a few hours of consulting work before pickup. Life was busy and full and lonely. I started crying. Then I started praying. Sobbing out words that became louder and angrier in the empty car.

Are you there?

I wasn’t asking about doctrine. I wasn’t asking for guidance. I simply wanted to know I wasn’t alone. When the tears subsided, I listened.

Nothing.

I turned onto my street.

Nothing.

I pulled into the driveway and sat for another minute in the silent cocoon of our beat-up Corolla, the one with only a single working door handle.

Nothing.

Eventually I got out of the car and went inside. I needed to start my work day.

My faith didn’t collapse that day. I kept praying. I kept participating. I told myself that silence was God’s way of saying, You’ve got this.

But something had shifted. Sometimes I wondered if I simply wasn’t doing enough. Maybe I needed to read more scriptures. Maybe I needed to pray with more faith. Maybe I needed to attend the temple more consistently.

But I didn’t. Instead, I started setting some of those things down.

After reading Isaiah’s description of fasting, I stopped going without food and instead served meals at the homeless shelter. Walking out afterward, I felt as spiritually nourished as I used to feel leaving the temple.

I stopped assuming that scripture study was the best place to encounter truth and replaced it with reading other religious thinkers.

I reconsidered my relationship with temple garments and found greater ease in my own body, a healthier relationship with my sexuality, and a growing sense of integrity.

I gave myself permission to skip Relief Society when I believed I would leave more discouraged than inspired.

As these changes accumulated, the God I had once known seemed to grow quieter still. And yet every few years, something would happen that felt outside of myself, that I couldn’t quite explain.

Once, after an argument with my husband, I realized I didn’t want to stop being angry. The only honest prayer I could offer was to ask that I would want to stop feeding the anger. And it loosened, almost immediately, like pulling a thorn from beneath the skin. The wound was still there, but something had been released. It was a gift.

Another time, I was holding onto a resentment that I just couldn’t get over, to the point of dreaming about hurting a particular person. I woke up with a voice in my head saying Stop it with a moral authority that was different from my own inner voice. It forced me to see I was not standing on the moral high ground I thought I was, and I finally let the resentment go.

These moments don’t happen when I ask for them, when I’ve earned them, when I need them most. They simply happen. And they feel real. But I don’t know how to build a relationship on experiences that arrive unpredictably. My own children, now teens, have pushed me on this more than anyone.

“I’ve prayed, Mom, and I feel nothing. So God isn’t real.”

I don’t know what to tell them. I reach for answers I no longer believe. I don’t know what I wish someone had told me. I turn my frustration back towards God.

This one’s on You.

The old answers still call to me: Read your scriptures every day. Pray more. Attend the temple more often. Follow the prophet. Sometimes I wonder whether returning to those practices would bring back the God I used to know. The God I still want.

But I don’t want to go back. I like who I’ve become. More thoughtful. More compassionate. More willing to own my decisions.

It would almost be easier if I could conclude that God was never there at all. That all of those experiences were simply the story of a young woman growing into herself. But then I remember the anger that loosened like a thorn being pulled out, or waking with the words Stop it echoing in my mind.

If one of my children came to me asking for connection, I know I wouldn’t parent this way. I don’t know what to make of a God who apparently does.

But tomorrow morning, I’ll get up, make breakfast, go to work, try to love my family, and somewhere underneath all of that, I’ll still find myself listening.

Just in case.

Dissonance

by Carly Carter

A Grandmother’s Blessing

by Angela Delgado

We went to my granddaughter’s baby blessing at

her paternal grandparents’ house. Generally Mormon baby blessings are performed during the Sunday worship service. However, my daughter and her husband had gotten special permission to bless the baby at home because they were visiting from out of town. Both sets of grandparents and one set of great grandparents live in the same area and would be able to attend. My husband and I arrived early to make sure that we had time to hold the baby and chat with my son-in-law’s family before the blessing. The Bishop arrived soon after, and then the great grandparents. All of the men joined in the blessing—her father, the Bishop, both grandfathers, and one of her great grandfathers. They held her gently, but since she is almost six months old, she squirmed and wiggled the whole time. I don’t remember the blessing, and it was nice, but there was no mention of my daughter, her mother. I have watched my son-in-law take care of his daughter very tenderly, and I have great respect for him. I’m certain that my granddaughter will appoint him the “favorite parent” as soon as she grows old enough just as my daughters did. But I felt a sense of disappointment surrounding the blessing, and I remember very clearly pushing down the uncomfortable feeling that women in the church are unseen, unheard, and not appreciated for the very real work of salvation they are involved in.

I looked at my daughter, whose body still carries the evidence of the last year-and-a-half of her life growing, birthing, and feeding this baby, and while I was proud of her for embracing motherhood so well, I felt sad for her. Women should be allowed to at least hold their babies during the blessing. They should be allowed to choose the circle of women who hold the baby while she gives a blessing. Perhaps the father should be involved too. Maybe it should be a circle of both men and women of their choosing. But it’s not even a thought. What would it be like, as well, if the other women in the room, wise women who have raised children, had the opportunity to give her a blessing? It seems like such a lost opportunity of experience and maternal wisdom.

So when they came to our house to stay the next week, we were able to do some things together. One morning we went to an aviary. The four of us wandered among the birds, trying to point out fun things about them to my granddaughter. Her interest would occasionally drift to some of the birds if they were flying or cawing, but her gaze was generally on the faces of the familiar people who love her and take care of her.

At one point, we got to an exhibit in the aviary that doesn’t allow strollers. Rather than take her out of the stroller, I volunteered to stay outside until they had walked through the exhibit. Although the day was already getting hot, there was a canopy of trees overhead that made a cooling shade. There was an empty bench and no one else was around. In the quiet, I sat down in front of my granddaughter and was going to entertain her with a song, when I had an idea. I would give her a blessing. It wouldn’t be official. It wouldn’t be recorded. I wouldn’t start with a prayer, and there were no men with priesthood power around. It would be a Grandmother’s blessing.

As I sat in front of my granddaughter, I looked into her eyes and gently held her feet. I blessed her with the words that came to my mind. They were clear and simple. I spoke my hopes and dreams for her. I blessed her with gifts and talents. It wasn’t a long blessing, but the stillness in her eyes told me everything I needed to know. I closed the blessing in the name of our Mother, the Creator of us all, and said ‘Amen.’ After that, I paused for a long time. I felt like I had been a part of a small, sacred miracle below the canopy of trees.

From a listener:

Dear ALSSI,

Thank you for providing this platform that gives a voice to many women to connect with their experiences. It has helped me to hear the stories of others and so I share mine for not only my healing journey, but because I want to join my link to the other stories in this chain.

My faith deconstruction journey started when my eldest was about to turn 8, which was about 5 years ago now. I had felt the weight of the “covenant path” language pushing heavier and heavier on me just before my son was to turn 8; the April 2021 general conference session seemed to ramp up the usage of the phrase. I was a strict attending ‘all-in’ Mormon but grew up in a nuanced home with a dad who converted while I was in high school, and a mom that left the church almost right after. I have always wrestled with the “covenant path” idea, as I just don’t see there being only one way for people to be close to God, to have His influence and love daily, and that one path and prescription must be followed if there is any chance in the after-life for a family to be together forever.

I also started to wrestle with the idea of my 7, almost 8-year-old, being asked to begin that covenant journey at such a young and naïve age—especially in the middle of COVID, when we hadn’t attended church in over a year. It wasn’t just about making covenants with God, but also about deciding that this was the church he wanted to join and be baptized into. I knew full well that he did not completely understand, because of his developmental age and limited life experience, but also knowing how much I had failed in teaching him. My son is also neurodivergent and never enjoyed attending church due to the environment being so overstimulating for him. After doubling down and diving into more conversations with my son, even purchasing a “covenant path” book for him to prepare for baptism, I began to understand that if my son was going to be baptized at age 8 it would have to be under my immense persuasion and pressure, something I felt completely uncomfortable doing at the end of the day. It felt like I was taking away his free agency at such a young age. There were also feelings of indoctrination surfacing. I felt like this short little life he has experienced was completely censored, intentionally of course, but how could he make an informed decision when I have been the source of his viewpoint on religion and God? How could he fully understand at such a young age, the decision he was about to make? I knew in my heart that this just did not feel right. I had many conversations with my husband and we both agreed to wait on his baptism.

Not soon after, the stories and recordings of more high profile child abuse cases and cover-ups by the church came to light and my husband stepped away from the church first. This resulted in a great unraveling and many difficult conversations; needless to say I cannot unsee and unfeel the things that make my skin crawl when I am at church. I honestly will say that I would like to figure out a way to attend, but I’m still figuring that out. I am also severely introverted and when our ward rearranged right after COVID, I struggled to feel community and camaraderie among the people—something I really had to work for even before when I was ‘all in.’ To put it plainly, I don’t know how to be nuanced in a place that I don’t feel accepts it and me. I am still figuring out how to find the strength and confidence in myself to exist in that space without letting go of my authentic self—inside this version of me that does not see the truth claims with a capital T. And despite growing up in a nuanced home with a feminist mother, I still internalized so many harmful scripts that I fear I would not be able to protect my children from, despite all my best efforts and genuine conversations. I also do not want to let go of the gifts I feel like I am blessed with from stepping away: loving myself more despite (and possibly more deeply because of) my imperfections, shaming myself less as a mother with many faults and traumas, the ability to love others genuinely rather than through the lens of expectations.

I also wanted to say thank you for your conversation with Lindsie Cornia in Ep 238, because I SO needed to hear her experience raising kids in this space after her deconstruction. That was so resonant with me that I felt so much belonging and safety in the not knowing. While I can relate to not knowing what I am doing, I DO know I want my children to feel loved no matter what, to feel divine no matter what, to love themselves and others no matter what—and how to do that safely. I just don’t trust myself to know how to keep them safe from the harmful rhetoric of the church and I feel a strong desire to protect them from it right now. I also don’t know how to protect myself from it, either. How can I teach my children this if I can’t even figure it out myself? It’s so messy and scary, to be honest. It may not always feel that way, but for now, I have chosen to seek out other places and opportunities to teach my children loving values and practice serving and loving others. (I highly recommend the Unitarian Universalist church as it promotes social justice issues and LGBTQ+ equity. It has been a soft landing place, for the moment.)

Thank you for this space; it saves my sanity and instigates many productive and amazing conversations with my husband, who is also a dutiful listener. This work is so important, please keep doing what you do. I’m sure at some points along the way you may feel exhausted from having variations of similar conversations, but they are so important. And the perspectives and meaning speak and land differently, as you already know. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

—Sid

Hi,

I just was listening to your Episode 235 and there are several things that stuck out to me.

I am a mom of a young woman. She’s 14. Every path that she’s been told will lead to success is probably not there. Nursing, education, computer science, science at all—these are paths that are traditionally held out. Doctors. Lawyers. But the costs of education are so high. She’s an athlete. She’s trusting in her athletics to cover her schooling so that she can get a degree in the first place.

She’s getting the same messages her aunts got. I was never a YW. I’m a convert. And I always grew up with the idea that I will work and have a career. Being a mother was never ever on my radar. And being a mother isn’t on her radar. She pushed back in seminary when they said the equivalent of priesthood for women is motherhood. She asked what happens if she can’t physically have kids? Or if she can’t afford them. What happens if things don’t work out. Is she less? And why is her spirituality tied to something about her body? Isn’t she worth more than that. And I guess she inspired a revolt because I got the joy of meeting with the seminary teachers.

I’m shocked at how resilient these girls are. And how willing they are to take their friendships from seminary and all into the real world and rely on those. They have hope. They have amazing ideas. And they do not let adults squash on them at all. But the messages they’re getting are still the same ones her aunts got. It is just not the same world, but it is the same messages.

At some point the church is going to have to adapt or they will lose all the young women. She knows several gay young women who are in seminary because they believe, but who have plans to leave the church because the church can’t accept them. She’s decided that she won’t continue when she’s on her own either because the church lacks the flexibility or general desire to change with and support the youth as they are experiencing the world, and relies on the “older” times instead of leaning into what they are going through now.

Just wanted to throw all that into your discussions. Again, I love your podcast. But the church is going to lose them all.

—Natasha

Contributors:

Erin Gong

I am a creative problem solver, learning to sit still. I’ve spent the last 20 years easing out of the more traditional LDS tenets I grew up with, and at the same time enjoying a delightfully roundabout career—starting as a grant writer for children’s museums, then a consultant for non-profits, then Silicon Valley data scientist, and now a senior manager in tech. I live in Salt Lake City with my spouse and three children. I love to help other women discover their options to pursue a meaningful career, nurture their passions, and have a family.

Carly Carter

I am a paraeducator, mother, and writer who has spent years navigating the tension between deep love for my LDS faith and the feeling of not measuring up within it. My writing explores faith, identity, longing, and the pull to remain connected even while wrestling with difficult questions.

Angela Delgado

I am an aspiring writer living in Salt Lake City, UT. My faith journey continues to be a source of discovery AND frustration, but I am learning to be okay with every new bend in the road. I love traveling to far off places, spoiling my two cats, and spending time with family.

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Dr. Jana Riess of Religion News Service published an article recently asking, “Why are young women leaving Mormonism?” It’s a great question, and one we could ask about every age group of Latter-day Saint women. Some answers seem very obvious; some may be harder to pin down. So how many women are actually leaving, and might institutional and/or cultural changes reverse the trend? In Episode 272, Jana joins Cynthia and Susan for a conversation about women and church, touching on 3 potential “P” (problem) areas: politics, purity culture, and powerlessness.

Notes & Quotes:

Find Jana's Religion News Service column, Flunking Sainthood, here
Why Are So Many Young Women Leaving Mormonism?, by Jana Riess, Flunking Sainthood, Religion News Service, 8/4/2026
The Diaries of Carol Lynn Pearson—Mormon Author, Feminist, and Activist: Volume 2: 1990–2002, by Carol Lynn Pearson
If Not Now, When? Mormon Women and the Priesthood, essay from The Challenge of Honesty: Essays for Latter-day Saints, by Frances Lee Menlove

“Aileen went on to say that since 1980 the statistics for women's attendance at church have gone down, for the first time in church history. Not a huge jump, but consistently down. ‘The Brethren's emphasis on getting the priesthood in a strong place has worked; the men's statistics are up. But not the women's, It has had a dastardly effect on the women.’’’ —Carol Lynn Pearson, (p. 62, April 26, 1992)

“As I go about my business in the world I am so encouraged that so many, many people of such diverse backgrounds are trying to sincerely help heal the wounds patriarchy has given to all of us. And then I come home to the dark, sterile, correlated “ males only “ club that is my church, and I am sick at heart.” —Carol Lynn Pearson, (p. 14, 1990)

“Christy Lloyd asked him ( stake pres) if he would join a church in which the females did everything important from passing the sacrament to presiding, and in the eternities his wife could have more than one husband, etc. etc. He said no, and most men wouldn't, but women *do* and that's the difference. I mean, he said it like because women don't have the pride men have, they will put up with things men wouldn't.” —Carol Lynn Pearson, (p. 52, 1992)

“The tasks of one age are not necessarily the tasks of another. I am suggesting that one of the tasks of our age is to bring into reality that ancient baptismal formula: “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew nor Greek, there is no longer slave nor free, there is no longer male nor female: for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:27–28) Perhaps the new research, along with the Internet and the energy of people meeting each other and re-evaluating their experiences, will prove to be the key in allowing us to embrace this egalitarian vision, this discipleship of equals, and transform it into a new social reality.” —Frances Lee Menlove

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Many thanks to listener Kathryn Lee for her work in transcribing this episode!

This episode can be found on any podcast app or can be listened to here on our website as well. All the notes and resources we cited in the episode are found at this link as well:

Listen to Episode 272

JR: … And even having Dallin Oaks say in General Conference that when young women are dressed provocatively, they are becoming pornography to the men around them. That is hard to come back from if you are a young woman who is already growing up in the church and feeling very exposed, sexualized.

An interesting irony of modesty rhetoric is that the idea is to protect women’s sexuality, and it does that; but it also makes them hyper-aware of their sexuality and the power of that sexuality because they are cast in this role of being temptresses to men.

SH: Hello, I’m Susan Hinkley.

CW: And I’m Cynthia Winward.

SH: And this is At Last She Said It. We are women of faith discussing complicated things, and the title of today’s episode is Let’s Talk About Women Leaving the Church, a conversation with Dr. Jana Reiss. Hello, Jana.

JR: Hello. Thank you for having me.

CW: Woo! Welcome.

SH: Yeah, we couldn’t be happier. I’m sure that you need no introduction for the majority of our listeners and you’ve, of course, been a guest on At Last She Said It before. But would you mind taking a pause here right at the beginning just to give a maybe short bio? Something that gives some context as to why we’re having this conversation today?

JR: Sure. So I am a senior columnist for Religion News Service. I’ve been working there since... Well, it’s been 14 years, so 2012, and I am also the co-author of a forthcoming book with Benjamin Noel, my research partner. The book is called “Leaving Mormonism,” and it’s about who leaves the LDS Church in the United States and why.

That’ll be out in March from Oxford.

SH: Okay. Cynthia’s gonna lead us through the discussion, so I’m just gonna turn it over to her right here.

CW: Well, we were so excited to have you on to talk about young women leaving Mormonism. So we want to hear all the details about that and what your research shows.

But in preparing for this episode– well, okay, this has nothing to do with necessarily the episode, but the last couple of months, I’ve been buried in the diaries of Carolyn Pearson, and what kind of-- I mean, I’ve had a lot of epiphanies. A lot. But one of the epiphanies I’ve had is, “Is what we’re seeing now, Jana, cyclical?”

Because Carolyn talks about some of these exact same things, and I just wanted to read one quick diary entry from April 26th, 1992. It’s from a conversation she had with Aileen Clyde, who was the second counselor in the General Relief Society presidency from 1990 to ‘97. And she says this: “Aileen went on to say that since 1980, the statistics for women’s attendance at church have gone down for the first time in church history.

“Not a huge jump, but consistently down. The brethren’s emphasis on getting the priesthood in a strong place has worked. The men’s statistics are up, but not the women’s. It has had a dastardly effect on the women.”

So I would assume that Aileen Clyde, as someone who was in the General Relief Society presidency, had access to that data.

Either someone did the data and passed it on to the women and said, “This is a problem,” or something... But I guess that’s my question to you to start out. Is this cyclical, Jana? Have we been here before? Do you even have access to what the data would’ve been that Aileen was referring to? I don’t know.

JR: So the short answer to the last part of your question, “Do we, as a public, have access to the church’s internal research about its members?” The answer is no.

CW: I figured...

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I got a message from Susan this morning asking me if my Worthy Stuff column (or is this an article? Essay? Just musings?) was coming out today. Woops! Sorry to be the flakey one of the ALSSI team! The worst part about forgetting to send this to your in box first things this morning was that I actually had been keeping a running list of some favorite stuff on my phone. So here are the memories I have been collecting for the last little while.

It would appear that summer is over and for the first ever I am not sad…yet. I am sure that grief will hit but so far the cooler days feel awesome. Perhaps it’s because this has been one of hottest summers on record for Utah. It also probably didn’t help that I have spent a lot of time in extra-flaming-hot St. George, but like Susan, even (especially?) flaming-hot deserts have their sacredness.

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Do Latter-day Saints believe our own stuff about faith? How does it differ from all the other words we sometimes get it tangled up with? What role is it meant to play in our lives and discipleship? Where and how might it intersect with love? In Episode 271, Susan and Cynthia are back for ALSSI Season 12 with a conversation exploring one of the biggest ideas in Christianity: Faith.

Notes & Quotes:

Faith as Participation and Trust that God Cares About the Now, Center for Action and Contemplation, 4/10/2016
The Wisdom of the Beguines: The Forgotten Story of a Medieval Women’s Movement, by Laura Swan
Faith Mends the Breach, Center for Action and Contemplation, 10/19/2023
Faith: Trusting Your Own Deepest Experience, by Sharon Salzberg
Faith is a Verb, Rosanna M. White
What We Talk About When We Talk About God, by Rob Bell
Faith and Doubt Are Not Opposites, Center for Action and Contemplation, 2/3/2021
Job and the Truth About Suffering, Aubrey and Tim Chaves with Dr. Mike Petrow, Faith Matters podcast, 8/9/2026
Always a Guest: Speaking of Faith Far From Home, by Barbara Brown Taylor
Bowing to What Is – ‘All In This Together’ Inspired Article #1, Jack Kornfield, 1/7/2026
I and Thou, by Martin Buber
At Last She Said It: Honest Conversations About Faith, Church, and Everything In Between, by Susan Hinckley and Cynthia Winward

When Faith Endures
(hymn 128)
I will not doubt, I will not fear;
God’s love and strength are always near.
His promised gift helps me to find
An inner strength and peace of mind.
I give the Father willingly
My trust, my prayers, humility.
His Spirit guides, his love assures
That fear departs when faith endures.

Doctrine &Covenants 6: 36-7—”Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not. Behold the wounds which pierced my side, and also the prints of the nails in my hands and feet; be faithful, keep my commandments, and ye shall inherit the kingdom of heaven.”

“Faith” is not an affirmation of a creed, an intellectual acceptance of God, or believing certain doctrines to be true or orthodox (although those things might well be good). Yet that seems to be what many Christians have whittled faith down to. Such faith does not usually change your heart or your lifestyle.” —Richard Rohr

“I’m convinced that much modern atheism is a result of such a heady and really ineffective definition of faith. We defined faith intellectually, so people came up with intellectual arguments against it and then said, “I don’t believe in God.” —Richard Rohr

“God refuses to be known intellectually. God can only be loved and known in the act of love; God can only be experienced in communion. This is why Jesus “commands” us to move toward love and fully abide there.” —Richard Rohr

"I urge you again and again to practice true love and to aspire to truth and perfection, that you may satisfy God, please Him (God], and do Him honor and justice, first in Himself [God's Presence] and then in the good people He loves and who love Him, and may you give them all they need whatever their state may be. This I urge you to do unceasingly, and this I have done since I came among you, for it is the best and most becoming way to serve God.” —Hadewijch, (Belgian Beguine, poet and mystic)

“Now I know that faith is not believing-certain-ideas-all-evidence-to-the-contrary. It is not dogged loyalty to childhood conditioning or pledges of allegiance to sacred formulas and official explanations. It is surely not the addictive repetition of rituals or practices that keep God under control. These approaches give the ego comfort…” —Richard Rohr

“When we claim our right to question everything, including our beliefs, we can unhook from our dependence on what is familiar and let in the heartfelt, open, fresh quality of faith.” —Sharon Salzberg

“Doubt is often a sign that your faith has a pulse and it is alive and well and searching and exploring.” —Rob Bell

“I worry about ‘true believers’ who cannot carry any doubt or anxiety at all, as Thomas the Apostle and Saint Teresa of Calcutta (1910–1997) learned to do. Doubt and faith are actually correlative terms. People of great faith often suffer bouts of great doubt because they continue to grow. Mother Teresa experienced decades of this kind of doubt, as was revealed after her death. In a letter to a trusted spiritual director she wrote, ‘Darkness is such that I really do not see — neither with my mind nor with my reason. — The place of God in my soul is blank. — There is no God in me.’ The very fact that the world media and people in general were scandalized by this demonstrates how limited is our understanding of the nature of biblical faith.” —Richard Rohr

“There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.” —Alfred Lord Tennyson

“If there is nothing we can do right now but wait, then as T.S. Eliot wrote, ‘the faith is in the waiting.’” —Sharon Salzberg

“Faith has more to do with staying fully present to what is happening right in front of you than with being certain of what it all means. The meeting is the thing.” —Barbara Brown Taylor

“Bowing doesn’t mean liking what’s happening. It doesn’t mean giving up. It means acknowledging what is before trying to make it something else. It is the difference between fighting the moment and meeting it.” —Jack Kornfield

”All real living is meeting.” —Martin Buber

“But what if the point is not to decode the cloud but to enter into it? What if the whole Bible is less a book of certainties than it is a book of encounters, in which a staggeringly long parade of people run into God, each other, life—and are never the same again? [...] Whether such biblical encounters register in human consciousness as ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ they have a way of breaking biblical people open, of rearranging what they think they know for sure so that there is room for more divine movement in their lives. Sometimes the movement involves traveling from one place to another. Sometimes it means changing their angle on what is true and why. Sometimes it involves the almost invisible movement of one heart toward another. Certainties can become casualties in these encounters…” —Barbara Brown Taylor

“That small softening was the bow.” —Jack Kornfield

”The imagination should be allowed a certain freedom to browse around.” —Thomas Merton

“I have found no downside to letting my head off its leash as often as it begs to go. The more information my head brings back for my heart to consider, the more my capacity for understanding grows. Faith begins in the same place hope does: a place my head can’t rule no matter how much it tries to assert its own importance.” —Susan Hinckley, (p. 129)

“Our faith is not a faith that dogmas or moral opinions are true, but a faith that Ultimate Reality/God/Christ is accessible to us—and even on our side.” —Richard Rohr

“Faith, in contrast to belief, is not a definition of reality, not a received answer, but an active, open state that makes us willing to explore. While beliefs come to us from outside—from another person or a tradition or heritage—faith comes from within, from our alive participation in the process of discovery. Alan Watts summed up the difference simply and pointedly as, ‘Belief clings, faith lets go.’”—Sharon Salzberg

“With their assumptions of correctness, beliefs try to make a known out of the unknown. They make presumptions about what is yet to come, how it will be, what it will mean, and how it will affect us. Faith, on the other hand, doesn’t carve out reality according to our preconceptions and desires. It doesn’t decide how we are going to perceive something but rather is the ability to move forward.” —Sharon Salzberg

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Many thanks to listener Anne Totten for her work in transcribing this episode!

This episode can be found on any podcast app or can be listened to here on our website as well. All the notes and resources we cited in the episode are found at this link as well:

Listen to Episode 271

CW: Okay, so then maybe that isn’t unfair for me to say. I think faith is just training wheels for Mormons.

SH: I’m afraid that we do think of it that way, yes. Whereas for me, faith is where the durability comes from. Because belief is brittle, certainty is brittle. All of these things can be stripped away from you and I feel like you don’t always have control over that.

And if people wanna argue with that, go listen to our beliefs episode. We talked a lot about it, but I don’t think that we always have control over things like our certainty and our belief. But faith lives in a different space.

CW: Yes.

SH: And everything about it is different.

Hello, I’m Susan Hinckley.

CW: And I’m Cynthia Winward.

SH: And this is At Last She Said It. We are women of faith discussing complicated things. And the title of today’s episode is “Big Ideas: Faith.”

CW: Welcome back, Susan. Season 12.

SH: Welcome back, Cynthia.

CW: I’m excited. You and I have been talking over the last, I don’t know, month or two, trying to brainstorm season 12.

And I think we loved season 11 so much we’re gonna continue with a lot of those same themes of big ideas and our what do you say episodes. So I hope that’s okay with our listeners because hopefully more than just you and me enjoyed the last season.

SH: Right. Right. (laughter) Oh, well, I say don’t mess with success.

And I really felt like our season 11 episodes were some of my favorites, for a lot of different reasons. I loved having so many more women’s voices on our podcast last season. And so for sure wanna do the “What Do You Say” episodes. And I am all in on talking about big ideas. So let’s do it.

CW: Let’s do it.

Well, why a conversation about faith, Susan? What are we doing?

SH: Well, we opened season 11 with a conversation about belief, and I think that faith is a related big idea. But I don’t really think that the relationship is exactly like a lot of church members think it is.

CW: Right.

SH: Right? So—and maybe this is just in my own head, I don’t know, Cynthia. Maybe I’m the only one who had faith and belief tangled up, but I totally did!

CW: No, me too, then!

SH: But I think we also get faith confused with a lot of other things like obedience and knowledge.

CW: Yeah.

SH: And then there’s all this other stuff. If you were doing the faith word cloud, there’s all this other stuff that I think would pop up in there, which would be things like doubt and certainty.

CW: Yeah.

SH: So there are all these related ideas that are kind of flowing around. And so sometimes with a big idea, I like to pluck one of them out and really kind of break it down a little, dive into it, and see some of the ideas that can make it hard to pin down exactly what we’re talking about when we’re talking about something like faith.

CW: Mmm hmm. Did you feel like—because I know you just re-listened to our belief episode as did I in preparation because we didn’t wanna say every single thing the same. Right.

SH: Right.

CW: —But I really felt like as I listened to our belief episode, I kept coming to like a fork in a road where I was like, this is where we could go down the faith route.

And so I feel like today that’s what we’re gonna do is kinda hit some of those forks in the road.

SH: Yeah. Same forks. We’re just gonna go down the other path

CW: Yep.

SH: Right. Yeah. I love that metaphor. I think it’s perfect for approaching this. We’re traveling down the path and you come to the fork and one side’s belief and the other side’s faith.

So we’re gonna talk about faith. And hopefully we’ll get it right. We’re gonna talk about faith according to our experience, right? We’re not experts about any of this stuff, but how these words have continued to evolve for us and within our own spiritual lives. And that’s all we’re ever talking about on “At Last She Said It.”

So let’s put a “your mileage may vary” right at the top of this conversation.

CW: Let’s just have that disclaimer for the whole season. How about that?

SH: Exactly! Okay, as I started to think about this topic over several days when I was planning getting the notes ready, my mind kind of kept going back to the lyrics of the hymn, “When Faith Endures.”

CW: Oh!

Read more

I’m sure all of us Mormons can vaguely

remember sitting in Primary meetings and being taught about the Holy Ghost. The key bullet points I remember from Primary are: The Holy Ghost is the third member of the God head, He doesn’t have a body, and He is God’s presence on the earth. I figured out that this magical being is the way we feel God. As a kid, I always found the Holy Ghost to be very mystical and unknowable. To be completely transparent, I was a bit trepidatious at the thought of the Holy Ghost. I mean, for Pete sake, there is “ghost” in the very name of this ambiguous thing, but somehow, it’s not supposed to be scary. My teachers told me It can even enter our body and touch our heart like that wasn’t supposed to terrify me. Not only was it not supposed to scare me, it was supposed to be something I wanted.

I pretty much followed the standard Mormon journey, and somewhere along the way, I did discover how to feel Heavenly Father’s spirit. I did all the things: took seminary and then institute, studied scripture, attended church, dated a returned missionary and then married him. I went to the temple regularly, said standard Mormon prayers, not just attended but anxiously engaged in Sunday school lessons and skipped to Relief Society activities.

Then, in what seemed to be an instant, it all came crashing down. Like so many of us who experience faith deconstruction, I looked at all the broken pieces of my spirituality laying around me and I wondered, “Where the hell is God in any of this? How the hell did I feel God before when all I feel now is pain and confusion?” I didn’t feel Him anymore. I mean, God wasn’t even a HIM for me anymore.

I was in a constant state of fear about my standing and worthiness before God. I couldn’t feel God anymore and my Mormon conditioning kicked into overdrive; My doubting had put me in a fallen state (yes, my bishop at the time actually said this to me) and so I must not be worthy to feel the Holy Ghost. But, I couldn’t reconcile this “truth” with the God I had experienced and the deep desire within me. Just like Enos, I wrestled before God. Or maybe a better way to say it is that I wrestled before MY idea of God. My sobbing became a prayer in and of itself. I would mentally yell into the universe, “I have so many good intentions. I am lost and feel all alone, but I want to be found! I have such a desire to know what God wants for me. Surely, a benevolent God that sees my soul reaching out with such earnestness can’t condemn me for changing. I’m evolving and all I want is to understand this new me. How could my God be mad at me and leave me when my desires are so pure?”

The more I sought God, the more distance I felt.

In Luke 5 Jesus encounters his cousin, John’s, disciples and they ask Christ why he isn’t requiring his disciples to fast. He tells them the time will come, but it isn’t yet. And then he tells them this parable:

Change was coming—no one understood that yet. The kingdom Jesus ushered in could not fit into the Pharisees’ paradigm or way of living. The status quo would no longer do. Current teachings, even the teachings of John the Baptist, were good, but passing away, since they were part of the Old Covenant which Jesus was fulfilling and renewing.

As my entire paradigm shifted, my old way of experiencing God wasn’t working either. The truth was, none of the standard Mormon stuff worked for me anymore. Okay, I shouldn’t say NONE of it. Very little of it worked for me. As my entire paradigm shifted, my old way of experiencing God wasn’t working either. I was shoving new wine into old wineskins and they had burst. It was like I was standing there, bawling, soaked in metaphorical wine, looking around at the carnage of my burst wineskin with no idea how to get a new one.

At the end of the parable, Jesus throws a little curve ball:

Jesus basically tells us, “Hey, this “New Kingdom” journey we are on together is going to suck. No one likes new things or being uncomfortable, but hang in there. This higher way of thinking is going to be worth it. I promise.” Turns out, there is a period of adjustment for the followers of old paths who are willing to grow in new ways. I was definitely uncomfortable AND I was willing.

In my countless hours of reading, scrolling, listening to podcasts, I came across this quote:

So I went searching in new (and some old) places for God and what do you know?

I found God in a group of friends gathering to talk about their own ongoing faith transitions.
I experienced God on evening walks with my dog.
I still connected with God while taking the sacrament, even though I thought about the ordinance in completely new and different ways.
I found God in the reeds and the wind, my kids’ laughter in the background.
I felt God in the pillow that caught my tears as I released my pain.
I found God as I learned from great Christian thinkers, Mormon and non-Mormon alike.
I found God in the eyes of my spouse as he desperately tried to meet me where I was.
I found God as I experienced the deep sorrow of mourning my old self.
I experienced God in death and rebirth.

After all that, I started to understand what Richard Rohr meant when he said:

I went camping a few weekends ago, away most notably from all the light pollution in the city. It’s almost my favorite part of camping, star gazing. I got all my kids to bed, and sat out alone looking up at the stars. I tried to empty my brain of thought, breathe deep and just be. I let my gaze linger on the mistiness of the Milky Way. I felt confident that I would encounter God. Nature is the place I go most often when I’m trying to find God and I was sure there was no way the sheer immensity of space would let me down. I gazed and admired. Tilted my head this way and that. Called out to God with my soul. More like, politely inquired if God was there. Ya know when you have to knock on your boss’ door to interrupt them and you are 100% sure the interruption is going to be received poorly? The knock is timid and you peek your head around the door with a grimace on your face, already anticipating the angry look your boss will throw your way? That was me as I looked up at the expanse above me.

Then my human messiness took over and my internal tone shifted to something like, “Hey Bruh. What are you doing? I showed up. I took 5 minutes to myself to sneak away from my kids, quiet down and be intentional and where the hell are you? Too good to show up? I believed you would be here. I’m doing the work, so why aren’t you showing up? Aren’t you the God that meets me where I am?”

I thought perhaps I’d called God out enough to show up just to spite me.

After another breath or two, I conceded.

“Well, this is pointless. But the stars are gorgeous and I’m glad I got to see the arm of the milky way tonight. Just wish I’d felt more.”

It seems as though after a few years of general contentment, I’m finding myself back to searching for God. I still frequently close my eyes, breath deep and envision my heart expanding. I imagine my soul cracking open and letting the God of my current understanding penetrate my psyche. Sometimes, I feel a rush of refreshment. But more often than not, I don’t feel a damn thing. Old habits die hard and I’ve started asking, “Where is God now?”

A large part of me worries that I no longer feel moved by God because I’m not as desperate and broken as I was five years ago. I’m much more at home and at peace with my deconstruction and because of that I no longer live, eat and breathe spiritual matters like I did at the beginning of my journey. Has time made me complacent? Again, I’m back in new territory and fighting the urge not to panic.

Last month, Susan published her August Worthy Stuff, and her words allowed me to connect with God as I was reading. I was so grateful for how I felt after I was done that I sent her this message:

Ah, Susan. Your “Worthy Stuff” was so wonderful. Funny, vulnerable, very tender. I just loved it. It was a gift to read about the dichotomy that was (probably still is) your life those few days: all you wanted to do was grieve, yet life went on. You did it because what else could you do? You are doing it beautifully even though I’m sure it feels like an impossible mess.

You sharing the ordinary, lovely moments that stood out to you during those days—the lipstick, our joke while we were shooting, your MIL holding your hand, the women showing up to the quilt show, the roadshow and cake, texts from friends—touched me deeply. Reading this was my spiritual practice for the day.

It was such a tragic, beautiful reminder that God is everywhere in this shit storm of life and if we can somehow figure out how to calm our hearts and see our God, even for just a split second—the time it takes to put on lipstick in a mirror, or hold someone’s hand—then we are learning something in life. I think, because I no longer experience HUGE waves of “feeling the spirit,” that I chase after the small connections I find with God. I chase the times when my heart is open enough to feel the presence that’s all around, if I can just get out of my own damn way for two seconds. So, long story short, for you to share those small moments of presence in some of the worst days of your life was so valuable to me. Thank you for writing it and opening your heart in that way. It’s an example of the kind of living I want to do.

*BTW, if you haven’t read Susan’s post, go read it IMMEDIATELY. 12/10 stars. Highly recommend.

I’ve recently thought that maybe I’m not encountering God because I’ve ONCE AGAIN started to limit where I’m looking or even supposing I can find God. Or maybe it’s because my understanding of God is changing yet again.

To me, God can still appear as a resounding feeling that whatever I happen to be experiencing, learning or hearing is profoundly good, ever expansive and can lead me towards my highest self. If we believe that every good thing comes from God, then surely that means not just temporal things, but feelings and emotions as well. If that’s the case, there are so many new names I have for the God of my ongoing understanding.

Relaxation
Contentment
Fulfillment
Conviction
Satisfaction
Awe

New wine, new wineskins.

With this new definition I start to wonder: did I actually miss God that night a few weeks ago as I looked at the stars? Could God have been in the simple acknowledgment of the beauty I was seeing? If so, finding God can be a lot simpler than I ever supposed it to be.

For now, I’m trying to relax and remember that if I want it, God will show up. I just can’t limit where I’m looking or how I’m connecting. I’ll just keep breathing deep and etch this quote from Richard Rohr into the lining of my heart:

Blakelee Ellis

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You say goodbye…we say hello!

If fall’s around the corner, that means summer is on its way out, and September this year means picking up where we left off at ALSSI.

New Season, same Us! 🥳

Season 12 is less than 2 weeks away, and we’re going to be taking on more Big Ideas. We have exciting guests lined up, and we’ll all be hearing from plenty of listeners, too. We’re happy to be back at our mics and thinking thinky thoughts! We didn’t know what to expect when we started the pod, but we didn’t expect 12 seasons.

Thank you for the support that continues to allow us to share these conversations.

Calendar —

9/3 Say More No. 69 | Blakelee Ellis

9/8 Season 12 begins with Ep. 271, Big Ideas | Faith

9/10 Worthy Stuff | Cynthia Edition

9/15 Ep. 272, Let’s Talk About Women Leaving the Church | A Conversation with Dr. Jana Riess

9/17 Say More No. 70 | Listener Submissions

9/18 Friday Live Chat

9/21 Ep. 273, What Do You Say?

9/24 ALSSI News

9/29 Ep. 274, Creation Begins with Speaking Up | A Conversation with Sara Fisk

10/1 ALSRI Book Club, 7:00 pm Mtn

ALSRI Book Club is coming up soon!

Our last book club meeting for the year is almost here! Time to grab your book and get reading. The selection chosen at the July meeting is Melinda Gates’ The Moment of Lift: How Empowering Women Changes the World. Whether you’ve read the book or not, these are great discussions and we hope you’ll join us!

At Last She Read It Book Club
Thursday, October 1
7:00 pm Mtn
Register to receive a Zoom link here

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Hope to see you everywhere!

~Susan & Cynthia
& the ALSSI Team

Patriarchy

Every time I think I have finally resolved my anger stage something new reignites it. I read Cynthia’s Say More today and also felt the melt downs. I have been fighting this sexism fight a long time and to read those statements by those women in leadership just sank my heart. We can’t even be honest without repercussions from the boys at the top. I feel so done with it… honestly I say that often and here I am still giving it real estate in my head. Thank you Cynthia for opening my eyes once again to how wrong it all is and was.

-Kim

I’m at my brother’s ward for my niece’s baby blessing. As all the men went up to bless the baby, my 5-year-old niece said, “Girls aren’t allowed to do that.” She saw it clearly. My brother who is out of the church but came was sitting next to us and told her “yeah isn’t that crazy” and she said, “yeah it is.” Here is to a future where little girls just don’t accept that anymore.

-Julie

I teach Valiant 7. One of the girls today asked why girls don’t get the priesthood. I wasn’t teaching today so I didn’t say anything. My co-teacher responded with the typical “women have access to priesthood power” and then said something about using it in the temple. I just let her because I didn’t feel it was appropriate to interrupt her or talk to someone else’s 8-year-old about that when all I can say is “I don’t really know” or “the prophet is sexist.”

-Stacie

Maybe I am late to this epiphany, but I am sitting in sacrament meeting and realizing that, when the male leadership of the church say women “had priesthood authority all along!”, what they really mean is priesthood permission. I feel like they have conflated the word “authority” with “permission.”

Which is why, when women start to test the sexist boundaries of the institution, priesthood “permission” can be removed by the removal of priesthood “authority” when she is released.

While they now gaslight women by insisting that women “always had priesthood authority” (when I was growing up, that statement would have gotten me excommunicated) when they performed their delegated roles, what they really mean is “we always had priesthood permission” to:

1. Be in callings at all

2. Perform the initiatory for other women

And I can’t unsee it. Permission is granted and removed at a whim just like this pseudo-authority they think they have graciously bestowed.

If I have priesthood “authority” to be in any woman’s role here, but not the ability to call my own presidency, set apart, etc. my own people, what I really have is “permission” to temporarily stand in a role a man doesn’t want until I need him to confirm my choices or do the actual setting apart.

-K.S.

Questions

Sacrament meeting was kind of tough today because one lady I really admire and respect bore her testimony about how God sees us during our hard times. Which is nice, but that was one of my shelf breakers. I went through a *super* hard time and couldn’t (and still can’t) find God. Which is fine—I can deal—but hearing it brought up always begs the question of why God was there for them, but not for me? Which is a stupid question that I don’t really want to be asking, but it seems to pop up in my soul anyway.

-ELarsen

Really weird open mic today. Not so open, though. A young man who was raised in my ward returned today to “get some things off his chest.” He talked about being bullied and not fitting in as a youth and then learning about the race ban as a seminary student and knowing that was wrong. He then intimated that he would be there a while to list the other problems he has with the church, at which time the bishop quietly asked him to share his testimony of Christ so others would have time to speak. I heard him say, “they’ve had my whole life to speak, this is my turn.” Then they shut off his mic and, after a few more attempts to resist being escorted out, he walked out saying he had a problem with misogyny, Warren Jeffs, and greed, and then said we all ought to know the names of every one of JS’s wives. It was hard to watch. The bishop followed him out and I trust had a very calming encounter with him. Our bishop is super sweet and really Christlike. The testimonies continued and I was pleasantly surprised that no one said anything derogatory about the young man. One person said they were grateful the bishopric used their priesthood to defend the members by removing him. After the meeting I asked an old guy in the ward who used to be the bishop who the man was. He gave me his name and I was able to find him on Facebook. I saw the names of his parents and realized they were a couple my friend had told me about who resigned their memberships about 6-7 years ago. So I messaged the young man’s dad and let him know what had happened in our ward and told him his son might need some extra love and attention today. I sent him my picture and said to give his son a hug from me and let him know I heard him and I validate his feelings and I know what it’s like to be silenced at church. The dad wrote back later saying he met his son at the stake center (where he had gone to try to talk to the stake president without an appointment) and they were talking about what happened. He thanked me for letting him know. My husband and I talked about the day’s events just now. We agreed that hijacking sacrament meeting is not the way to get things off one’s chest, but we also agreed that there really is no time or place where it’s even allowed to discuss these big problems with our history and policies and doctrines. The Gospel Topics essays need to be discussed and people need to be able to bring up their concerns about the church without fear of being shut down when they do. At a stake leadership meeting when he was in the bishopric, my husband suggested having a separate SS class to go over all of the essays one at a time and was ignored. When there is no outlet for people to air their concerns, they come out in a big burst of anger like what happened today. It’s a shame. That pain has to go somewhere.

-Carol

What does having faith mean to you? Because I’ve been thinking about that lately and today’s sacrament mtg just reinforced to me that the Church teaches having faith as blind obedience; whether you have faith or want to acquire faith you do allllll the things. I don’t know what I think having faith means, but I don’t think it’s that.

-Kayla

Have your thoughts on “perfection” changed over time? I recall this being brought up in a semi-recent What Do You Say episode. I don’t remember who it was. I’d like to discuss it more. “Be ye perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect,” (Matt 5:48) was a terrible poison for my OCD brain. Even with repentance, I knew I would never measure up. I was able to let that go in my 20s and accept grace. Still, I thought the atonement would transform me and everyone into “perfect” beings. I began to wonder, what does that even mean? Not getting mad? Not hurting anyone’s feelings? Good at everything? No limits? What if being perfect means giving up my personality because who I am is imperfect? Does perfect mean everyone is the same? A woman in RS once commented on Jesus being perfect and how that meant even as a young child he never did anything wrong or upset Mary and Joseph. You mean a 3-year-old never made a mess or hit their playmate? Currently, my answer to all my “What is perfection?” questions is: I don’t know. It feels good.

-Meredith

I’ve been thinking about the recent conversation Susan and Cynthia had with Lisa Fluckiger about the Beatitudes, and living and ministering in the present.

Lisa paraphrased Father Gregory Boyles’ teachings by saying, “The kingdom isn’t around the corner. It IS the corner.” (I couldn’t find an actual quote of him saying this, but Google can be wrong.?) As I gain experience in this life, especially with my children who do not fit the Covenant Path hiking specs, I find this sentiment to be so true! I find Jesus much more often in the here and now of people living in the gap between pain and the ideal goal. On the corner, as it were.

But, as Sheri Dew recently reasserted, “prophets see around corners.”

I’d go further to say prophets focus on what’s around corners.

Then where does that leave those following the prophet?

No wonder we are running into what and who is on the corner right now, and having problems.

And if Jesus is on the corner, why are prophets (seers, revelators) looking past Him? Isn’t that, literally, “looking beyond the mark”?

-Jackman

Quotes

I read this quote as part of my testimony today and wanted to share it here as well:

-Nicole

Today’s reading from volume 2 of Carol Lynn Pearson—

-Cynthia

In honor of book club.....

-Rebecca

If I stopped giving energy to the system that wants me silent & small and start redirecting that energy to the relationship with my body, my whole self, and those I love — who could I be?!?!

-Mary

Now I’m going to be thinking of my spirituality as a Mountain of Awakening that has set me toward becoming a person of love. So simple—no wonder Jesus came down and was like, “Okay I’ll show you in the flesh since the visions aren’t working out.”

-Lisa

Shifting Faith

To me faith is the expectation that all things (no matter how awful) come together and over time and space create or make room for good in the end. This is my faith in the universe, God, or whatever, makes the giant compost pile which is growing green things in my life.

-LSW

I had the opportunity to sustain or oppose the leaders of the church at ward conference today. Raising my hand is such a habit but today I was mindful and intentionally kept my hands clasped in my lap. I will neither sustain nor oppose the callings. I recognize that I have no power in this institutional church.

I’m not sure if it was a micro aggression or a micro rebellion or just being true to my current faith and belief (that is no longer in the church.)

-Maria

I’ve been attending services at an Episcopal church for a bit now and have noticed something interesting about myself.

As a little background: they sing their communion hymn over and over and over while everyone takes turns going up to receive the Eucharist. The repetition of a simple song is deeply meditative for me and one of my favorite things about the service. The song pictured above has been sung every Sunday since Easter and I love it a lot.

Anyways, for the longest time I found that unless I was concentrating carefully my brain always wanted to change the words from “let all who are THIRSTY come” to “let all who are WORTHY come.” Pretty much sums up both what I’m trying to move towards in my faith and what I’m trying to move away from.

I really feel like I’ve come a long way in deconstructing worthiness and purity culture, but it’s BONKERS to me to see how that word is so tightly wedged down into my subconsciousness.

-Stephanie

Let me share an old Young Women’s activity that I went to when I was a beehive. The setup of the activity was about discerning the right voices and listening to the holy ghost. There had been a maze set up in the cultural hall of folding chairs and you would wait outside the door and then a leader would put a blindfold on you and then open the door for you. After you entered the point was to navigate the maze to the other side of the large room by using the directions that were shouted at you by other leaders. The leaders who were giving directions were the YW president (who I didn’t really click with) and one of the bishopric members. At the time there had been a lot of lessons on priesthood and so I thought of course the answer was to follow the directions from the bishopric counselor. This was going to be an activity to reinforce those lessons. I started to follow the directions from the man and was going in the correct direction but I kept walking into the folding chair obstacles. It was never fully direct contact at the beginning but, like when you cut a corner really quickly and get a sharp counter top edge right in your side. Over and over again I was clipping these folding chairs with my foot, my knee, and then finally I was fully stepping into these chairs over and over again. I realized I was at a dead end. So, my assumption was incorrect and I was wrong. This activity was not to reinforce listening to the priesthood or to the holy ghost or to god as male voices. I don’t think it was thought about that deeply. I did begin listening to what the YW president would give me as directions and then was able to navigate the maze and back out to the hall.

I have recently had some internal experiences of growth and then frustration that felt like 2 hard won steps forward and then getting hit by a car and dragged 50 feet back. I was trying to describe these feelings and had the memory of that experience at that activity come forward into my thoughts. The past couple days reflecting I have felt like I have been walking into folding chairs for a long time. On a drive early this morning on my own I was ruminating on this past again and out loud said, “Enough, what would you re-craft this to be instead!?!”

So, here is what I would re-craft and recreate that beehive experience to be for 13-year-old me.

I would do everything the same up to the point where I realized that I was in a dead end. And then, I would stop, take a deep breath, and take off the blindfold. I would realize that I don’t need to strain to hear outside voices in order to get directions or instructions telling me what to do. I have all the information and context I need through my own senses, physical and metaphysical, to take the first step in front of me and then evaluate what to do next.

I HAVE ALL THE INFORMATION AND CONTEXT I NEED THROUGH MY OWN SENSES, PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL.

-Karina

Lately, church has felt less like a sanctuary and more like an obstacle course. I leave feeling embarrassed by how distracted I am, frustrated by the constant mental loops, and exhausted by the invisible labor of trying to separate God from my OCD. Instead of worship, it often feels like I’m negotiating with my own mind, wondering whether I’m praying “right,” feeling “enough,” believing “correctly,” or even saying “the perfect answers.” It’s hard to encounter the holy when every moment becomes another opportunity to monitor myself. I miss the kind of worship that happens when my heart is free enough to simply be present. It’s strange to know, deep in my bones, that I could meet God more authentically beneath a canopy of trees, or at the top of a mountain, or in the laughter of my family, or under the weight of my own blankets, or even just where I can feel the sun rays stinging my skin and still feel unable to release the invisible tether pulling me back to my assigned congregation.

Maybe that’s why I’m so relieved to spend this Sunday at my uncle’s ward for my cousin’s baby’s blessing. The relief surprises me, but it also makes perfect sense. I’m not going because I feel obligated. I’m going because I love her. She has been part of my tribe for as long as I can remember, one of the people who has shown up for me in ways that are deeply relational rather than merely performative. Celebrating her family doesn’t feel like checking a spiritual box. It feels like breathing fresh air after being inside too long. For a few hours, I don’t have to wonder if I’m worshipping correctly. I simply get to witness love, participate in joy, and remember that sometimes the most sacred thing we can do is show up for one another.

-Jessie

Yesterday marked 30 years since I took out my endowment. Since my first panic attack. Since my first jolt of un-belief in the church.

As a gift to myself, I had been planning to burn my temple recommend on this day. I’ve been thinking about it for a few months and thought I had processed most, if not all, the emotions with this decision.

But, I was genuinely caught off guard when I started shredding the edges of the paper to get it to burn easier.

I had stabs of fear run through my body. Thoughts that I was being disobedient, that I was throwing away eternity. What if I needed it, but no longer had it? For a moment it felt like someone was watching me. Not God, but a man in a white shirt and tie. All these feelings were directly tied to taking back my own authority, standing up for myself. Saying no to the coercive control of the church.

I had planned on putting the ashes in one of my flower beds, but after this experience, I decided to throw them on the gravel path where they will be more easily forgotten.

-Brooke

Frustrations

I have spoken up when something really egregious is said. Usually small things I let go because live and let live ... But for a real example... when somebody says that parents are guilty of child abuse if they “condone” their child coming out as trans.... I’ve pushed back (not in a church lesson, outside of church where people seem to feel freer to talk about really bigoted things) and this is what I get in response.... That I’m being intolerant. I should tolerate their stance. It’s the paradox. If we should be tolerant of all, then we need to be tolerant of intolerance or that makes us intolerant. To me this is weaponizing the traits of empathy and tolerance. This even occurs within church walls where people try to be more socially acceptable in their bigotry. For example, I shouldn’t push back or be intolerant of somebody talking about Charlie Kirk being the perfect Christlike example. ARGGGGH! it’s so manipulative to me, to turn it around and call me intolerant. There are consequences to your bigotry!

-Rebecca

I’ve noticed as Mormons, we completely disregard ethics. We have no critical thinking around them. We only talk about what is morally right or wrong. And that can change depending on who is driving the bus. But ethical questions and answers address the deeper issues.

And sadly, you can tell that he is parroting this from some adult, saying this without any kind of context, but applying it to every context

-Brooke

I HATE THE PRESENCE OF MEN AT YW CAMP. They are worse than useless, it is all about their ego.

I hate the we can bend the rules for men (one man on YW camp but that’s okay because his daughters are here), hiking with a YW leader by himself with no other leader but then—when we suggest bending the rules for women it’s a hard no.

I hate the criticism that comes with organizing camp and then other women (and the stupid man) criticizing what’s going on and how it could be better. I love working hard for high reward events; the way people criticize the work drives me MAD.

-Rebecca

Today will be my first family wedding where I’ll be sitting outside the temple. Now that the day has arrived, it feels a little heavier than I anticipated. It also feels so revealing and yet odds are no one will ask me directly why I’m not inside, they’ll just make up stories in their minds. And when you haven’t had control of your own narrative for so long, I guess it’s hard to be in a place where it doesn’t matter if I’m inside or outside, someone else will be telling my story. I realized that this is what is really bothering me this morning. I really want to be my own storyteller, not a character someone else created. And today I fear that even though I won’t be inside the temple I’ll still not be seen for who I am, just for what I’m not.

-Stephenie

Most of the time, my TBM husband and I have reached a truce where we just don’t really talk about church things. But this week, our 13-year-old son (who is the only one who attends with his dad) was away at a cousin’s so my husband went alone. So he was sad, telling me how hard it is to go alone to a ward where he doesn’t feel like he has any connections (we have been in the ward for 18 years, but extended family cliques mean he has always felt like an outsider). So first of all, what a stupid system it is where a stand-up guy like my husband who gives his all to church, can’t choose to attend a ward 20 minutes away where his brother and my brother and childhood friends go. Makes me raging angry.

Then cue deep and meaningful discussion about how he is still trying to figure out what it means for our family in the next life because I have left with all our daughters. Me explaining to him that no loving parent would banish a child for ETERNITY for not following some arbitrary rules so I don’t believe there is any reality where my Mormon status excludes me from being with him (I mean, I don’t think I believe in an afterlife at all, but I definitely don’t believe in the Mormon version). And watching him tie himself in knots both agreeing with me but also telling me there are eternal, universal laws that God is bound by. It’s exhausting listening to the mental gymnastics he has to do.

-Hannah

I just got a newsletter from our RS. There is a new RS presidency and they share their bio about them. I know all these women though I am not acquainted with them any more. They are educated and have a lot to offer yet their info doesn’t relate. As I read their bios they described themselves [and] who they were in context with their family. The new RS president is a full-time nurse but makes no mention of it. One of the counselors is a business owner but makes no mention of it, yet chose to share that she loves to bake or likes art. They are all wives, mothers, mother-in-law, grandmas, daughters of god and everything else except themselves. What the eff? Women perpetuate their own place in the church. Many do it to themselves. If I wrote my bio it would include my whole life not the part that fits the LDS box. I’m disappointed they chose not to include their professional accomplishments. And I truly mean that I respect and admire each of them. They are so much more capable [than] what they included in their bio. If you were to write your bio, what would you write?

-Priscilla

Isn’t it interesting as we process our anger over the modesty obsession and change our attire as we go on a faith expansion! And yet as I watch men go on a similar faith journey, they are not talking about clothing, they don’t feel anger for what they had to wear. My husband only changed his underwear and worries a little less about the length of shorts. Nothing changed with his style choices.

On faith journey zoom group calls, many women are showing up in tank tops. Men’s attire remains the same. Yet the church comes out with a men’s open sleeve tank top? For what purpose?

When outside of exercise do men wear tank tops?

Men have little trauma about clothing and women are sent into a rage. Feel free to push back if you see men’s experience differently. I’m just going off of my experiences and observations.

-Kim

Good Things

Our sacrament meeting was mostly about how Young Men’s and Young Women’s camp went and hearing talks from the youth. But the whole line-up on the program was women! They called up one of the young men impromptu to give a brief testimony but then the talks were 2 young women and 1 adult female for a regular talk. It was refreshing! Also the girls spoke about how the camp theme was about being children of God, primarily the royalty perspective of a “King” and “Queen” as our heavenly parents. Seems like our ward is doing a great job of being more inclusive and representative!

-Becca

I spent the morning at a missionary farewell in a ward with an apostle on the stand, which isn’t uncommon with my daughter’s friend group and where we live. What I thought was interesting was that this cute girl we went to support said that when her brother left on a mission he mentioned all the men who had inspired him and her grandmother had felt left out. So, she thanked her grandmother and the women in her life first. Despite all the things I disagree with and find troubling in the church, I have faith that this next generation of teenage girls will demand more as they see the inequity in the church, even if it’s just small things that they work to correct and make right over the pulpit. I really loved that she made it right for her grandmother.

-Stephenie

Here’s what’s on my mind this morning. I preface it by saying I’m an ‘older’ person. Maybe the oldest in these realms. I’m feeling absolutely ready to burst with the millions of life experiences and feelings and no place to lay them down or share them. Most people don’t really want to hear your stories so you spend the day thinking about them and realizing how each story played a part in your becoming. I don’t know exactly where I’m going with this, but just let me say I’m so blessed to be associated with all of you women who think. Thinking women will change the world one think at a time. Keep thinking out there!

-Pat

First adult speaker was talking about “consider the lilies” and when it talked about being clothed without toil or spinning, my first thought was of the invisible labor of (probably) women who would make the clothes that would be provided. But then I realized, because of all the grace-peddling here, he’s probably not talking about clothing that obviously someone would have to work to create, it is grace he provides as a covering, without us toiling or spinning.

He went on to be really vulnerable about mental illness and clarify that anger and sadness are not sin. It was beautiful. Then a woman got up (from our ward, but there as a stake speaker) and told us all to put smiles on our faces because the gospel is so wonderful.

-Suzanne

My very favorite 85-year-old in the ward teaches RS and is also a raging feminist and super liberal. The conference talk she taught from was Elder Gilbert’s “Come Home.” I went in very curious about what she’d say. I don’t think she mentioned the talk even one time. Instead, she introduced the books “The Next Mormons” and “Torn,” reviewed statistics about reasons why people are leaving the church and opened a discussion about productive and positive ways to react and maintain loving relationships with those opting out. Instead of little handouts with scripture verses or quotes from General Authorities, the handouts she passed around were links to where we could buy the books and find Faith Matters podcasts with Jeff Strong. It. Was. Fabulous. Everyone was animated, shared stories, there was just a synergy that flowed through us as we spoke freely and openly about what was really on our minds—not the usual guarded “acceptable” comments we normally get in RS. We touched on female ordination, our LGBTQIA family members, problems with doctrine and leadership.... we went everywhere!

There was one sister missionary (older adult service missionary) attending from out west who assured us that the church leadership she knew personally were aware of these kinds of feelings amongst members. (OH GREAT, so they know and still aren’t doing anything... perfect)

Then I spoke in sacrament meeting and wished everyone a Happy Pride Month and bore a little testimony about how I’m an ally and believe that expansion of human rights and dignity to everyone elevates us all.

Good things happening in Northern Virginia.

-Heidi

I really enjoyed church today. A homeless man walked in during the 2nd sacrament talk. He sat there maybe five minutes and then walked out conspicuously walking towards the front first. One of the older brothers followed him out and then came and got me to open up the library. The man was asking for a Book of Mormon. We gave him one.

After he left a woman showed up that had moved away from the ward a couple years ago and was back, down on her luck trying to get her life together. I gave her $20 I had in my pocket and another member gave her more. We gave her our numbers (her phone had been lost). I walked her down to RS. I sat by a newer member who confided to me that she doesn’t feel welcomed in the ward. We exchanged numbers.

We had a discussion of experiences that show you Jesus loves you. I ended up tearfully sharing an experience that really matters to me, but that I no longer believe makes the church “true” in any exclusive way.

I don’t feel like I am being deceptive by sharing things that mean different things to me now. I just think I am sharing in the language they can process. But it was an odd feeling

-LSW

last but not least…….

Good for a Laugh

BEING PROVEN RIGHT IS LIKE A DRUG FOR ME! I spend so much time assuming I’m wrong about everything, once you give me a little bit of dopamine for being right, I’m riding that high for literal days.

-Kaitlyn

A 70-ish man (that I know) tapped my bare shoulder (I was wearing a sleeveless dress) and asked, in the middle of sacrament meeting (not in a whisper!) how I was liking the new garments.

-Julie

I walked past this broken exit sign at church a couple weeks ago. The symbolism had me giggling to myself.

-Michelle

The lady saying the opening prayer in RS said, “We’re thankful to be here today even though I don’t like Relief Society much.”

Love the honesty.

-Emily

This morning as my husband got dressed my 8-year-old son was commenting on his garments. He said he couldn’t imagine wearing extra layers of clothes, that an undershirt sounded bad enough but why does dad wear undershirt pants??

-Maria

-Marie

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