The church always had a path for me. I never chose it for myself, but I always knew what it would be. After I graduated from High School I would go on a mission, hopefully somewhere cool like England or China, come back, attend a university to obtain a four year degree, meet the man of my dreams, get married, and pop out three or four children to follow the same path I followed years before. Well that’s not really how things worked out.
Being raised Mormon, these where the expectations my community held for me, and the expectations I held for myself. My Dad made the decision to leave the church shortly before my twelfth birthday, and at first his decision had a major effect on my life. I remember crying, a lot, sobbing into his shoulder as he attempted to explain to me the what it means to have a crisis of faith, and the myriad of reasons he chose to leave the church in the first place. Being eleven at the time, I wasn’t anywhere near capable of understanding some of the complicated issues that had prompted his departure, but looking back at the past it makes much more sense. With the ideology of the modern world in constant swing, the Mormon Church seems to in following the rest of society towards a civilization that promotes tolerance and acceptance about all other things, and my family decided they could not live in that kind of community.
I wondered how the temptations of Satan could have possible affected by family. We were good. We always followed the Word of Wisdom, and I never wore anything scandalous or reveling. I had heard stories about people leaving the church and they where demonized within my tight-knit religious community, but I never thought this would happen to my family.
After my Dad left the church, my brothers shortly followed. The only reason they were going was because of the rest of the family and it was never something they really enjoyed. My Mom went to sacrament with me for a couple of months after the departure of the rest of my family, but stopped going with me soon after that. But, I stayed on, mainly because I could not break out of the peer pressure I felt from my peers, who lacked an understanding of the reasons some people might view organized religion as morally corrupt.
Despite the reality that my family had left and the morals around our house had become less aligned with Mormon ideology, I vividly remember attending a family party a couple of months after my family departed form the church, seeing my mother drink wine, and becoming very upset. I was always taught that alcohol was a sin, and had never considered the alternative that it was not something to be looked down upon. Looking back, I realize how much the ideology I was raised with has affected me, and how different the world is outside of the small bubble I was raised in. The church always taught barriers constructed in black and white. Everything was always good or bad, evil or heavenly, but I have come to learn this is not how the world works. The world is not separated into good or bad people, or things you should and should not do. I realize that religion can come as a comfort to come people, but now understanding my Mormon experience form an outside perspective, I would say that I am thankful for my father’s experiences, and what I have learned because of his desire to always question, and to always challenge what you think is nor right.
