Finding peace in a new chapter in council

This has been a quiet blog for the two years since I stopped attending Mormon services.

Thursday this week, 16th, marked exactly two years since I wrote to family and my religious leader informing them of my decision to stop going.

In the two years since, I've found joy and delight in getting involved in community groups like a amateur drama group, a choir and helping at my son's football training. I've delighted in these experiences. They've been healing and invigorating.

In the midst of all that, I've continued feeling a sense of longing, a lack of peace, place and purpose. I've found myself questioning what the point of it all is. Life has felt meaningless.

Not only was Thursday exactly two years since breaking a spiritual connection, it was also perhaps the first day of starting a new one.

A friend at choir had invited me to join a "men's group." I accepted, in part out of curiosity, but more so because the invite he forwarded from the organiser spoke of something of substance and depth. This wasn't going to be idle chit-chat around a pint at the pub.

Despite my expectation of something of significance, I was unprepared for the evening. It was, initially, a little unnerving to experience something very different but, eventually, strangely familiar.

A council circle, I have since learned, has roots in Native American traditions. It has been lifted and adapted by, what I grew up calling, "new age hippies." In that sense, I felt like I was among friends, given my parents, along with some friends and nearby aunt and uncle were products of that culture.

A council circle in the UK seems to take inspiration from the Native American custom, but builds in other elements of old customs of the british isles such as old folk culture and paganism as well as hints of eastern philosophy.

Paganism (tan, tan, taaaaaaan) is a term, similar to "heathen," created by Abrahamic religions to act as a catch-all pejorative of "others." The Vikings were called pagans, the celts were too. In essence, it tends to mean pre-christian and usually has roots in ecological appreciation and connection with nature.

Anyway... I digress.

As human's we are naturally unsettled by new experiences. The brain has evolved to find safety in familiarity. For me, this was initially emotionally unsettling. I struggle meeting new people at the best of times, but the addition of an alien set of cultural icons, rituals and symbols was initially disconcerting.

I won't go into a lot of detail about what was said or done, because one of the foundations of council is confidentiality. It's also the sort of experience that has value in the Instead, I might use this blog from time to time to document how I feel and think in response to the experience.

And what I have felt, since Thursday, more than anything else, and for what feels the first time since 2014... is deep and calming peace.

Conclusions and changes

I wrote this letter to friends and family on 16th June 2014:

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I wanted to write to let you know of a recent conclusion I’ve reached.

I’ve decided to stop attending church. I’m aware of the sadness this will cause, and I’m sorry for being the source of pain, confusion or discomfort. I’ve held off making this decision, in large part, because of the effect it will have on the people, like you, who I consider to be among my closest friends and family. I hope that our friendship can remain strong.

I want to reassure you that this isn’t a knee-jerk or rushed decision. I’ve spent the last two years considering this question. Out of respect for my future, my family and for my upbringing, I didn’t want to rush into any conclusion. I wanted to explore all possibilities. I also want to reassure you that [wife’s name] has never tried to push me into doing this. One of the things that have made our relationship flourish and strengthen over the last 3-4 years is that we have both tried to show complete acceptance and respect for each other’s differing perspectives. We still do today. [Wife’s name] has never done anything to try to change my beliefs and I love her all the more for it.

Two years ago this month I decided that I wanted to fully explore the origins, foundation and implications of my faith. I decided to give myself 12 months to make sure no rash choices were made.

The 12 months became 15 and I returned to UK from China with a very different perspective on God, the world and my place and purpose within it. In October last year I’d almost decided to stop attending but, after the wonderful hand of friendship was extended by Elder Uchtdorf in conference and by my branch president, I chose to give it another chance; another 6 months of trying to find a balance between my new religious perspectives and also being an active and positive influence in my branch.

I accepted a calling as Branch Mission Leader and used it as an opportunity to study the gospel at ‘entry level.’ A chance to remind myself of the principles we teach our new members and children. I had hoped that this simple reconnection with the foundational teachings of the gospel would help me overcome my doubts and rekindle faith. Taking Elder Uchtdorf’s counsel, I doubted my doubts. I challenged them, I questioned them, and I tried to replace them with faith and application.

This reengagement with gospel study has been an immensely useful experience. It has helped me to retain a belief and hope in God. It has also helped me notice all of the things that I don’t believe any more. Week after week, while preparing the Gospel Principles lesson, I would work through material and have to juggle the content. Out of respect for the calling and the reasons the class members were attending, I tried to only use the words of the manuals, the scriptures and the prophets. In doing so I reached my current perspectives; a universalistic perspective where Mormonism’s exclusive claims were played down and our part in the great human family was emphasised.

In the end, it hasn’t been enough. Elder Uchtdorf’s olive branch is a small leaf in the great forest of absolutes. I recognise that ultimately the teachings in Mormonism depend on certain categorical claims. Faith in the things taught in the church stands or falls on those claims and I no longer have faith in them.

While I still have a hope in a divine influence and creator, I have no certainties. If I were to describe my religious perspectives today I’d probably say that I believe in collective individualism. I believe we are unified by our diversity. If there is a God, and I hope there is, I believe that he understands that individuality and diversity better than anyone else.

If there is a God, then I am comfortable with the idea that the divine is found in Mormonism but no more or less than it is found in other Christian and non-Christian faiths, philosophies and traditions. I believe that some of Mormonism’s leaders have, at times, been inspired by that divine influence –but not always and not any more frequently or with any more clarity than other philosophers and religious teachers around the world.

If there is a God, then I don’t believe that Mormonism has any stronger connection with him, nor do I believe the church is a “chosen” or “superior” organisation compared to other faith traditions.

If I had to put a label on my beliefs, I would probably call it “universalism.” It’s based on the foundation that we all really are “alike unto God” (2 Nep 26:33); that the most essential and fundamental principles of truth can be found in each nation and faith tradition. It takes the notion taught at church that many other people receive a “portion” of truth and then recognises that even Mormonism’s position of absolutes is only a similar, incomplete portion of divine guidance. In all of those incomplete perspectives, in seeing constantly through a “glass, darkly” we find a simple and consistent message: “prophecies... shall fail..., knowledge... shall vanish away” but “charity never faileth” (1 Cor 13:8-12). I believe that any religion or philosophy should be measured on how effectively it helps us embrace this single important principle of charity. It is perhaps the most consistent and divine principle that appears to permeate almost every faith tradition. All of our teachings, commandments, principles and ceremonies should be enablers to living against this essential teaching.

For a while I had wanted to try to be a “Mormon Universalist;” to live with my conclusions while still attending Mormon services. That desire was part of why I embraced my calling. To live in a way that was both true to my conclusions and respectful of the community and traditions of the people I associated with.

In the end, it’s hasn’t been possible. There is too big a gap between my perspectives and those taught in the church.

An earlier version of this letter included the detail of the things I no longer agree with or believe and why I started the process of investigation and evaluation at all. I’ve decided to not impose those on you. If you’re interested, let me know and I can send you the longer version with the detail included.

I recognise that you, and many of my friends and family, might worry about me being deceived or misguided.

All I can say is that I don’t believe I am. I’ve prayed and pondered over these conclusions and their implications. I’ve spent more time on this question than any other in my entire life. I recognise the seriousness of the implications of my faith transition. I realise that if Mormonism’s absolutes are right then I’m moving away from something essential. I simply don’t believe those absolutes. If there is a God who answers prayers, and my past experiences encourage me to believe that there is and that he does, then he has also answered my prayer. If my previous spiritual experiences are reasonable a basis for making life decisions, then the experience I had earlier this year while praying in the Celestial room at the Temple should also be an adequate basis for making the decision to move away from full activity within Mormonism.

I know I will miss the weekly experience of meeting with the Mormon community. I will also miss going to the Temple. I still consider that to be a “sacred space” and to be an environment for learning about my place in the world and my relationship with the divine. I’m sad that my conclusions mean that I won’t be able to attend but also respect the church’s reasons for expecting certain standards for going there.

I have no desire to shake your faith. I don’t want to undermine the church or people’s attendance there. I have no certainties or absolutes, so with that in mind I recognise that your beliefs might still be right – or, at the very least, right for you. The God that I believe in, or hope for, is one that celebrates and accepts all of humanity’s commitments and religious dedication – as long as it leads them to be better people and to be of service to the their fellow human beings.

Please feel free to ask me any questions you might have. I understand that this will cause you concern. I appreciate your care and sincerity in feeling that way. Please don’t feel like you need to rescue me or correct my conclusions. At the same time, if you feel you’d like to share your perspectives or express your concerns about my choices then I am willing to listen. I recognise that this might make you feel uncomfortable or awkward around me. Like I said at the start, I really hope we’re still able to maintain a friendship and good relationship.