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In the first installment of my journey, I told you how I came to meet a Mormon. As our family grew to love and care about him, we became concerned for his eternity. As I tried to explain the Scriptures to him, the Spirit began to show me there was more to Mormonism than I thought. I was on a new journey in my studies.
As we met, there were several differences in doctrine that I had to examine and try to discern which was true. Some of the first that came up were the need for baptism as a requirement of salvation, the doctrine of the trinity, the continuation of an actual line of priesthood, as well as the laying on of hands for receiving the Holy Ghost. There were many others, but those are the main ones that come to mind. I would ask my questions and Neil would photocopy chapters from Articles of Faith and Jesus the Christ by James Talmage. Eventually he just handed me both books to borrow, citing the need to save trees. Funny guy. Now I had more material to read as I studied.
One Thursday afternoon Neil called me on the phone and asked if he could invite some sister missionaries to come and watch my children while we talked, so we wouldn’t be so distracted. I agreed, not knowing there was a rule that missionaries couldn’t watch children. When I arrived for lessons that evening with my list of questions Neil casually mentioned that he also invited a couple of elders (which meant something different at my church). So, by the time lessons ended, the children were playing quietly in the back room by themselves, and I was sitting around Neil’s kitchen table with five Mormons, four of which were missionaries. It was slightly intimidating to say the least. I was afraid my questioning things would come across defensive, or worse offensive, but the missionaries were always gracious and understood my motives.
This went on for close to three years. I went through many wonderful sets of missionaries, some of whom I became quite close to, such as Sisters Trachmann and Plourde. Occasionally Neil would invite some other ladies from his ward to sit in on the discussions to introduce me to some women from the church as well. One of those ladies, Vicki Lorimer, later became a lifeline for me.
There were times I had a greater understanding of things than others. I still remember the day I was reading my Bible and realized we are supposed to receive the Holy Spirit by the laying on of hands, the only prerequisites seeming to be repentance and baptism. Well, I didn’t want there to be any part of the Bible I wasn’t at least trying to obey, so I came up with what to me was a simple solution.
I emailed Neil and told him I now understood that we had to receive the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands. Seeing as I had repented and was baptized, and he held the authority to lay hands at his church, maybe he could confirm me after piano lessons that week. Then I’d be set. Looking back at the naïveté of that suggestion, I wish I could have seen Neil’s face when he first read my earnest email. Neil tried hard to explain to me why that wouldn’t work, but I just wasn’t getting it. However I did realize that he would be breaking some rules to comply to my request and I certainly didn’t want to get him in any trouble. I would just have to content myself with continuing to study and determine the truth.
When this all began, I was sure I was right. I would faithfully ask my companions in my ladies ensemble group to pray for “my Mormons”. Hoping they would come to my faith. Eventually, however, I began to realize there was a very strong possibility that they were right. I didn’t dare say anything to anyone at church about my doubts. It would get me in a tremendous amount of trouble. The boldest I would get in sharing my doubts was to change my prayer request from praying for “my Mormons” to asking for wisdom. My daily prayers changed from, “Lord, please help Neil understand the truth” to “Father, please show both of us what is true.” I figured that covered it either way. I began to grow uneasy. I felt my whole foundation crumbling underneath me and I didn’t know where to put my feet. My whole life revolved around my faith. I realized I had started on a path that could not be retracted. I now HAD to know which was true.
In the meantime my friends began to notice my uneasiness. Some of them wondered if Neil had too strong an influence over me. They knew I thought highly of him, and that my marriage was not easy. I assured them that was not so. Still, they were uncomfortable by what they now considered my fascination with Mormonism. Brent, my husband, also became concerned. Not about me and Neil, but about what he perceived as my defense of Mormonism in our discussions about what I was learning. When one evening I refused to say I was convinced Mormonism was a false religion he hit the roof.
He told me I was no longer to read, study, talk about, or even think about Mormonism again. I was ordered to return all the reading materials and limit my conversations with Neil to life and piano. Religion was not to be brought up again. I was devastated, but I submitted. The church I attended taught that wives were to submit to their husbands in all things. There was a clause in there that said we could not be ordered to sin, but I wasn’t sure this fell into that category. I returned everything to Neil (except my Book of Mormon which I kept hidden under my mattress) and explained to him we would no longer be able to discuss theology. Neil took that in stride and went back to our discussions revolving around piano. I however, did not fare so well.
I was truly confused about what to believe. What if God was different than I had been taught? What if there was more Scripture, and a whole line of priesthood authority and blessings that came with that? If that was so, I was not obeying God as He wanted. Possibly I didn’t even know him at all. What if I was teaching my children incorrect theology? Every decision I made was now suspect. Plus, so much of our daily lives revolved around the teaching opportunities I had with my children. Even our academics in our homeschool were saturated in theology. Every part of my life was shrouded in doubt. I began to fall apart and didn’t know how much longer I could continue in that state of mind.
I begged my husband to allow me to continue to study. I pleaded with him to understand I had to know what to believe.
He kept saying he would tell me what to believe. As submissive as I am by nature, I knew that wouldn’t work. I explained to him it had to be my beliefs, not his, but he wouldn’t budge. I felt close to a nervous breakdown. He grew angrier and more resentful of me because I could not seem to get past this desire to study further. Things kept getting more and more tense in our home. I was still submitting and not studying or discussing things, but I was absolutely miserable and felt completely pulled into tiny pieces.
Eventually one of my friends, ironically the colleague of Neil’s that told me to go to him in the first place, went to the leadership of my church and told them she was concerned about a relationship I was in with a Mormon male. Brent and I were summoned to one of the elder’s homes to meet with he and his wife. There I was told of my friend’s concerns. I was also told that I was no longer to take my children to piano lessons.
Brent and I were both furious. First they implied that there was impropriety going on, which we all knew to be untrue. Brent said if the husband of the home was not concerned about the friendship than neither should they. They said it was their final decision. Either I discontinued taking the children to Neil, having no further communication with him, or I would be kicked out of choir, orchestra, ladies ensemble, and my teaching responsibilities.
I was devastated again. Who could I replace Neil with for my son? There wasn’t another qualified teacher within hours of driving. This time I dug in my heels. I told them if they could find a suitable replacement for Dillon’s instruction that I would switch teachers. But, I certainly didn’t think they had the right to determine who was to be a family friend. They disagreed and I was officially kicked out of the ministries at church. They replied that even if there was no impropriety, which we all now agreed there wasn’t, it was irresponsible for me to expose my children regularly to a Mormon. I left the meeting angry and feeling completely defeated and hopeless. The fact of the matter was, I wasn’t even sure Mormonism was true, but I certainly felt the need to find out.
When Brent and I left that meeting we were both in agreement that the church leadership were overstepping their bounds. They didn’t have the right to determine our piano teacher. It was a few short weeks later that we were summoned to another meeting. This time I was to face the entire elder board, which consisted of about 16 men, both vocational and lay leaders. In the meantime, the pastors kept busy by interviewing my friends, asking them if I had ever said anything to them that could be deemed suspect regarding my beliefs on Mormonism, or my friendship with Neil. They really couldn’t find anything except the fact that I spoke of him highly.
Once in the meeting, they began by reading a passage for the purpose of “setting the tone”. The passage they chose was one on church discipline. I knew from that moment on I was in step two of the excommunication process. I was flabbergasted. In the fifteen years I had served at that church, I had not so much as even gave the appearance of causing problems. Why were such drastic measures being taken?
The meeting itself was humiliating. The men were hostile, and treated me as someone unworthy of even decent kindness. Every innocent action, or word ever spoken was scrutinized and looked at with the most vile slant possible. I was asked to defend how I could justify allowing someone to mentor my son who was Mormon. It didn’t matter how many times I said, he was teaching piano, not theology, they still disapproved. Next I was asked to defend my interest in Mormonism. I didn’t want this fight. I wasn’t even sure Mormonism WAS true. I explained to them that Brent had told me to return the materials and stop studying, and that I submitted. Still they were unsatisfied. The meeting went on for about three hours, with the conclusion that I was to renounce anything to do with Mormonism, including taking the children to piano, or they would go forward with my excommunication. I was frustrated beyond belief.
Whenever I tried calling a friend to talk about the situation, they would tell me that the elders had already contacted them, and they were not allowed to discuss the situation with me. I was also told if I needed to talk about it, they were to tell me the elders were available for me to speak with. I felt trapped. In the meantime, the elders (and remember, this is different than LDS elders) summoned me to another meeting. I had no intentions of repeating round one, and said that my position had not changed and refused to attend. Brent, however, grew frustrated with my inability to say Mormonism was false and decided to attend the meeting himself.
At that meeting, Brent’s leadership of our home was called into question. He was even advised to disable my van, so that I could not take the children to piano. They told him, it sounded to them as if the Mormon in Conway was leading our home. Brent came home from that meeting more hostile than ever, and was now was in full agreement with the leadership. I was under immense pressure. My whole life was falling apart, and I wasn’t even sure it was for a good reason. Brent went to work in silence, and then came home and yelled at me for not submitting to the elders. When I went to church, I was not allowed to participate in any of the ministries, and I was whispered about and avoided. I had finally reached my breaking point.
I wrote a local Mormon Bishop who had heard about my situation and asked Neil if there was anything he could do to help. I told him in the letter that I had so many questions and wished I could speak to him about them. I knew I wouldn’t be permitted to, so just asked for him to pray for me to have wisdom. Brent apparently had been going through my computer files because he found the file of the letter and went ballistic. I was now to give him my email password so he could check all of my computer correspondence. He also would not allow me to have a phone conversation without him listening in. I was falling apart. There were days I did not feel as if I could continue. I went about the house barely functioning, superficially going through the motions with the children’s school work, and then going to my bed to cry. Several times I came close to suicide, but thoughts of my children kept me from following through.
I tried explaining to my husband how desperate and alone I felt.
I even told about wishing to die. He responded by saying my sin brought all of those feelings upon my head. If I would simply repent, it would all go away. I knew I was completely alone. My husband wouldn’t help, my friends wouldn’t speak to me, and I wasn’t sure which God was real, the one from my church, or the one from Neil’s.
My one lifeline was a woman Neil introduced me to from his ward, Vicki Lorimer. She must have sensed how desperate I felt, because she would email daily checking on my state of mind. Because she knew Brent was monitoring my emails, she would often put the subject heading as Scrapbooking, or some other girly thing, so as to not bring it to his attention. Those emails helped me feel as if there was another human somewhere who cared about me. I’m not sure if I could have gotten through those months without them.
Things were now getting so tense at church; I began to refuse to go. I couldn’t bear it any longer. Brent continued to attend and take the children, meeting with the elders regularly about my “lack of repentance”. One Wednesday evening Brent took the three oldest children up to church. I kept our two-year-old home, who had a 102 degree fever. A few minutes after Brent pulled out of the driveway, three elders (one full time pastor and two lay leaders) showed up at my door.
They were there to give me one final chance to repent. So, while trying to comfort a very sick toddler, I spent the next two hours again having to defend my desire to study Mormonism. I realized throughout the evening, to my surprise, that every time they brought up some Mormon “heresy”, I had a response as to why it could be a true doctrine. I was honest with them that I wasn’t sure what was true, but did feel I had the right to figure that out for myself. They strenuously disagreed, and truly could not understand my refusal to submit. I was handed a letter that told me I had until the following Tuesday to repent and submit to the elder board, admitting Mormonism was a false religion or my excommunication would go public.
I truly did not know what to do. I just couldn’t agree to what they were asking. One afternoon, while Brent was at work, Vicki called and explained to me about Unrighteous Dominion. She helped me understand that it would not be a sin for me to disobey Brent and figure out what I believed. I knew I couldn’t continue in the state I was in anyway much longer without having a nervous breakdown, so I came to a decision.
I announced to Brent one Sunday afternoon, that if I was going to get in trouble for Mormonism anyway, I might as well study it and figure out if it was true. I’ll cover the final leg of the journey in the next article.
