Leaving the Saints

I spent three years of my life in and around the Mormon church. I married a LDS man and embraced his lifestyle in my neverending quest to fit in—somewhere, anywhere.

I made many good friends during that phase of my life. And, of course, lost them all when I left him and left that church family. No one cared that my life had been threatened. No one cared that I went to sleep every night in fear that I would not be alive to wake up in the morning. When I heard "Leaving the Saints" discussed recently, I just had to read it.

I was touched by Martha Beck's writing. I found her incredibly open, and felt awestruck by the turmoil she must have experienced to lay these thoughts and feelings down on paper.

Since finishing the book, I have read several criticisms of it written by other members of Dr. Beck's family. We each have our own memories of how things happen. She has recounted her memories, and I respect all she lost—and gained—in doing so.

I was raised in a strict religious environment that is, in practice, similar to the LDS practices—specifically in health and dress restrictions, but also in some beliefs of what to expect in the end times. You've heard my schtick: I was raised Seventh-day Adventist, then I married a man who was raised Southern Baptist but got off into all the charismatic stuff, then I married a Lutheran, then a Mormon, and then a golfer. I liked the golfer's religion the best.

All joking aside, I would have to say I don't like religion. I don't like people presuming they're better than everyone around them, simply because they hold different beliefs. I don't like the rampant criticism that accompanies many religions—in my experience, the Adventists. I don't like the thought that if I vary one whit from the stated game plan, I am a horrible person. I want to be unconditionally loved and accepted while I mature and grow as a human being.

Can't we just be nice? Can't we speak the language of kindness?

When I was on Match hoping to find a nice man with whom to share my life, I stated in my profile that I was "spiritual but not religious". For me that translated to, "I don't really know what I believe, but please just let me believe it. Or not believe it."

So my interest was piqued by the following passage in "Leaving the Saints":

The word religion comes from the Latin religos, meaning "to tie together again." On a grand scale, I think this means the reconnection of all souls, all spirits, all the bits of divine creation that briefly imagine they—we—are separate and alone.

Instead of tearing people, families, groups, … apart, why can't organized religions seek to build their members up, imbuing them with a sense of togetherness, unity, and self-worth.

Don't tell me what a sinner I am—don't tell me of everything I'm doing wrong. Encourage me to want to do things right. Encourage me to be a better person.

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There was one more passage that set the chimes in my head to ringing. Dr. Beck was describing the work she had begun in Phoenix after she and then-husband and children left Utah. In helping students prepare for and advance their careers, she would counsel:

"You'll know when you're in the wrong job interview," I'd say during a lecture, "because the pit of your stomach will tell you to get out. Your first daily priority should be stillness, attention to what you really know and what you really feel. Don't 'network' into meaningless relationships with colleagues who bore you; find the people who can make you laugh all night, who turn on the lights in your heart and mind. Do whatever work feeds your true self, even if it's not a safe bet, even if it looks like a crazy risk, even if everyone in your life tells you you're wrong or bad or crazy."

I feel like she described my current state of life. I left a sure job with a good salary in which I was absolutely miserable. I have a wonderful new job where every day I'm scared about being able to pay my taxes but where I love my work. I can always make more money. I can't make happiness.

And in my personal life, I have always been serious. Hyper-serious. Always trying to do things right. Always seeking approval and love. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I have this wonderful man who loves me and encourages me and helps me. And makes me laugh. Daily. Uproariously. Laugh-giggle-titter-smile-guffaw-laugh. Laugh.

My life is beyond good. My life is a miracle!