✍️ My own experience¶
Estimated time to read: 13 minutes
Upbringing¶
I was born & raised in the covenant, fully immersed in the culture. I was homeschooled, was raised to believe that the outside world is evil, scary, ruled by Satan. I shouldn't go to a proper school, the other students might influence me to do nonspecific bad things.
I was raised to believe that only our scriptures & church leaders can bring us happiness & fulfilment. A lot of it made sense at the time.
I’d occasionally hear some outrageous claims of Joseph Smith doing shady things, but clearly this was an attempt by the devil to pull me away from happiness.
In my first year of early-morning seminary at age 14, studying the Doctrine & Covenants and church history, I clearly remember hearing numerous accounts of disaffected members leaving the faith over petty reasons; minimizing their experience, diminishing it to “being offended” over something trivial. After all, who in their right might would walk away from this?
Doing baptisms for the dead as a teenager was always hyped up as a life-changing event. We did it twice a year, if memory serves right. I do recall treating it as a virtue-signaling opportunity to show how dignified and spiritual I could be to the girls there. Also how calm, ritualistic, solemn the process was. I remember temple workers corralling us down specific hallways, blocking specific doors, and wordlessly herding the group of teenagers toward the baptismal font. “One day,” I thought, “I’ll see what else these buildings contain. Adults seem very hush-hush about it. Must be cool?”
Temple Prep¶
It comes to a head when I’m preparing to serve a mission. Taking part in the Temple Prep class was a big red flag. For around six weeks during the third hour, and each lesson was “well, it’s very symbolic, and is very sacred.” Each week the instructor would say, in so many words, that this is very sacred and we can’t talk about it outside the temple. One needs to be in tune with the spirit to receive this information properly.
I’d come “prepared” by meditating, pondering, and praying. Same message every week. It's too sacred to talk about here. My skepticism grew each successive week—why am I going to this class if it's just a nothing-burger?
The night before going to the temple for my own endowment ceremony, my dad tried to soften the upcoming blow by describing the ceremony: Anti-Mormons will say that the ceremony consisting of a lot of passwords and secret handshakes. In reality… it consists of a lot of passwords and secret handshakes. But it’s not weird, there are attendants who will help you through them! I guess that’s the part that my temple prep class kept skirting around.
Once I get into the endowment ceremony for my first time in late 2012, I remember my heart racing, as the whole group wordlessly mimics the officiator in swearing away their time, possessions and money. I remember feeling very anxious and uncomfortable, as I had zero knowledge of what was coming, and this was absolutely nothing like any other LDS ceremony I had known of. This felt like a damned cult. I remember the moment where the group is prompted that “if any of you wish to withdraw from making these eternally binding consequences, before God, angels, and these witnesses, make it known now by raising your hand!” The entire congregation turned and stared at me. Was I going to flake out now? Now that I already have a date to enter the MTC? No, I have faith, and I’ll make this work! Somehow…
Mission¶
I grew up insulated from much of the world, in various parts of the midwest, and northern Texas. My mission call sent me to Los Angeles. I distinctly remember descending through the clouds to the LAX airport, and feeling a moderate panic attack at how urbanized and dense the view was. Seeing scarce green space, and reminding myself that I, an anxious dork from Kansas, will be held accountable for spreading Jesus' gospel to all eight million of these people. Being immersed in the massive city of LA where seeing green grass was a rarity kept my stress levels above healthy intervals, to put it lightly. My response to the ordeal was to double down, insist that I represent Jesus Christ and that I cannot be wrong— I cannot and will not falter and give up now. This work is important.
As a district leader, I had another companionship call to vent that they “had their testimonies attacked” by some embittered ex-members. Claims about tithing, financial transparency, polygamy, hidden information, etc.. I assured them that, if they felt shaken, they can take the evening off to regain composure in their apartment, study and pray. I’d check in with them the next day. They shrugged it off and we never spoke of it again. Today, I think back on those days surrounding that event, and wonder what could have happened if I pushed a bit harder.
University¶
One could rightly argue that the point of post-secondary education is not to train a student to perform a task, but to teach them critical thinking to adapt to a wide range of tasks. Who could have foreseen that critical thinking would conflict with my religious beliefs? Moreover, who would have guessed that studying databasing and statistics would bring it all crashing down? I took no classes in philosophy or anthropology.
Part of my studies required loose financial literacy, so I took two accounting classes. No struggle there, as they were entry-level courses. Seeing the high-level overview of how money is tracked, managed, allocated and expended was satisfying. The meticulous records to balance assets & liabilities was intriguing, but moreso was the assurance that every organization handling money should be following these generally accepted accounting practices (GAAP).
Another key component was statistics. Specifically, how critical thinking applies to “studies” and reports. One qualitative concept that got regularly emphasized was “who benefits from this information?” “who is funding this study?” Amid all the math formulas were critical thinking approaches, to detect and analyze motivated reasoning. When information is presented, consider what incentive the presenter has.
The approximately 40-minute drive between my home and my university was a nice opportunity to listen to podcasts or music. Other days, it's a nice time for quiet reflection, as the drive had very few turns once I reached the thoroughfare. I do recall one day pondering how blessed I felt to be in this position. I was in my late 20's, with my own private car, enjoying some air conditioning, driving independently to a post-secondary education. By the media console in the car was a smartphone, able to stream media remotely, then use Bluetooth to play the content over the stereo in my car. In my last few semesters, I needed to decide between a course in digital forensics or web application security. That decision is what weighed most heavily on my mind.
At once, the thought occurs to me, "there are impoverished humans, children of God, who don't even have clean water." And here I was, with a steel double-insulated tumbler, keeping refreshing, icy water at a frigid temperature even in late July. What makes me so special, so fortunate? Why is there such an awful disparity between me, a middle-class white American man, and Syrian children who truly believed they would die of thirst before next week? There are humans with more money than they could hope to spend in their lifetime, and there are humans whose lives would be forever changed by a single cash injection of $50 USD, or even a durable pair of shoes.
My local Sacrament Meetings had flowery messages about how God loves all of His children. The idea doesn't sit well with me. Does God just show that love in different ways based on what side of an imaginary border you're on? Does God bless those with prosperity only to the remarkably small proportion of humans who attend LDS meetings weekly? Does God not care about these disparities? Does he watch with indifference as humans suffer? Is God even there?
My cognitive dissonance further compounded when I finally had a chance to meet other humans, outside the context of the LDS faith, outside of a mission call. Folks with dyed hair were living happy, fulfilled lives. Humans engaging in extramarital intercourse were not visibly doomed to a life of treating STI’s and mononucleosis. Students were performing well without saying a prayer before an exam. Instructors taught without verbally qualifying their statements as being led by the spirit.
So, then, what if some of those crazy anti-Mormons have a point? What if this faith isn’t the only way to happiness? What kind of claims are they making?
Connecting the dots¶
Summer of 2018 is when the MormonLeaks website made a whistleblower report that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had some outrageous sum of money that is not being actively disbursed. My time spent in accounting classes gave me the expectation that the church is surely keeping track of all this. Why would they not set the record straight? If they did not have the data, that would be a problem. If they did have the data but refuse to share, that would also be a problem. I'm no Certified Practicing Accountant (CPA), but I've read enough ledgers and balance sheets to navigate my way around them.
One long weekend, I resolved that I'd see this problem through to completion. I was going to find those financial records and demonstrate my entry-level comprehension of ledgers to settle the issue myself, and so I began searching through online resources—armed with tech literacy, boolean operators, and a drive to defend God's true church from those loons who would dare to misinterpret financial documents.
What I ended up discovering was that I'm hardly the first to seek out the church's documents. What I read instead were frustrated comments of "these documents are nowhere to be found!" Various bloggers and podcast hosts would either dismiss the opacity as a non-issue, or observe that the church is hiding something. No, they're not legally obligated to, and so they don't.
Huh. That doesn't sit well with what I'd been taught about accountability and responsibility. I ultimately gave up on that pursuit, having frequently seen mention of something called the CES Letter, a hiss and a byword among Mormons. I figured that was outside the scope of my pursuit, but after enough dead ends of finding nothing but rumors concerning the church's amassed wealth, I was running out of alternatives.
Drawing from experience in analyzing statistics, if the church stands to benefit from one angle of its history, it will push that angle. It will insist that the faith-promoting story is the only story. The promotion of faith will lead members to pay tithes. On the flip side, who gets a financial interest in a version that does not promote faith? The anti-Mormons don’t have a centralized agency that needs funding. Should I look at their side of the story?
Getting "Anti'd"¶
For most of 2018, I’d shied away from reading evil literature, inspired by the Devil, and had identified some the names of documents to avoid. How bad could they be, though? I’m smart enough, and faithful enough to discern truth irrespective of the source.
Searching for info on the church's benevolent, altruistic use of their tithing funds led me to discourse about the CES letter—presented as either a pathetic attempt to tear down God’s unstoppable work, or a logically infallible refutation of the LDS church’s claims. Maybe there’s some middle ground. What ultimately led me here was the pursuit of information concerning the LDS church's use of tithing money. When I delved in, the early chapters of the CES letter described the Book of Mormon, and some problematic parallels in its contents. I remember thinking up some explanations for these problems, most revolving around the idea that solid information doesn’t exist to settle these questions. Whether or not a horse was a horse (of course) was inconsequential to Another Testament of Jesus Christ. Moving on, they’re non-issues.
Later chapters described Joseph Smith, particularly the First Vision, where he is called as a prophet by Jesus himself, accompanied by Elohim. This is where I first hear the idea that multiple accounts of the First Vision exist. “Surely not, this isn’t the kind of thing Joseph would be ambiguous about,” I retorted to myself. “They’re misinformed! What source are they using to back up this claim?” The link sent me to LDS.org, the church’s official website, which corroborated the claim that the described First Vision that was compulsory to repeat verbatim in each mission Zone Conference, was not the first, but was in direct conflict with other accounts written by Joseph.
Oh shit. The anti-Mormons are right about this.
I flipped back to the earlier claims about the Book of Mormon anachronisms, checking each cited source for a claim. Shit. The LDS church has this in writing. Shit. Oh fuck.
What if the evil people are right? The perfect church, led by men inspired of God himself… what if it was wrong? What if God wasn’t leading it? Is this all a scam?
I had to put my tablet down and stare off into the distance for some unknown amount of time. I distinctly remember the landscape in mid-October, just as autumn foliage was becoming colorful. I don’t know how much time passed. Today, I’d estimate it to be twenty minutes, before reacting instinctively by clasping my hands together, kneeling, to supplicate some deity. I felt nothing. Silence. It was the most gut-wrenching silence I ever felt. I still get shivers when I think about that moment.
Deconstruction begins¶
I’d try to get through more of the CES letter, but could only bear the emotional stress of short exposures to the document. I couldn’t stop, but I couldn’t continue. Each claim had sources to back them up. Some sources more satisfying than others— I can say that, at the time, I didn’t feel like the CES letter was bulletproof or undeniable. But it had enough compelling information that my “shelf” that had since collapsed was further crushed under the weight of more questions and discrepancies. The salamander letters. Polygamy being so much worse and pervasive than I had been led to believe. Brigham Young’s theocratic dictatorship. Book of Abraham.
Conventional wisdom within Mormonism is to, when confronted by some non-specific challenge, attend the temple, listen to the prophets, read scriptures, etc. I wouldn't be able to answer the temple recommend questions pertaining to faith, belief, or sustaining church leaders, but figured that God knew my dilemma— I've got to get in there to rebuild my testimony. The most recent two or three times attending an endowment ceremony were sobering, reminiscent of the ominous silence I felt when praying. I couldn't get over how bizarre the ritual was, and how what I read in the Old Testament as doctrinal backing for it all felt tenuous at best. Not knowing much about Masonic ceremonies, I could buy into the idea that this was plagiarized. This didn't feel like it was from God.
Maybe the most recent General Conference carried some messages of hope? October 2018 was when the president of the church, Russell M Nelson, felt that the most important thing for God's mouthpiece to relay to us was that "Mormon" is a bad word now. I remember feeling incredulous and dumbstruck— this is what God is worried about?
I’d occasionally be pressured to attend church with my in-laws, and would oblige most mornings. I don’t remember feeling anything from the speakers or lessons, only bewilderment that the congregation appeared to be either A) buying into it, or B) enraptured by their iPad, but giving in to presenteeism.
I couldn’t sustain this belief in good conscience anymore.
Today¶
So... what do I do about this newfound information?
Good question.
I'll start by writing these notes to try and make sense of it all. If you'd like to read what I've written down, you're in the right place!