What is there to lose?

I have a wonderful mother. She's as much of a friend as she is a parent, and she does pretty well at both. When in comes down to it, my whole family is a good family. Sure, my dad gets over protective, but I'm his oldest child and only daughter, its kinda a given. Sure, my brother can be annoying, but his a little brother, what else do I expect? I was always so happy to know that I'd be with them in eternity, when I was Mormon.

I think one of the most painful things said to me when I left the church was my mom's question: "You know we're going to lose you for eternity if you leave, right?"

My mom has said a few times that she's got nothing to lose by staying in the LDS Church. And I know that she feels that if she left, she might lose everything she holds dear in this world: her family.

I often wish, so badly, that I could just take her hand, look her in the eye, and say, "Mom, do you really believe God is so cruel that he would separate a loving family just because they didn't belong to a specific religion?"

And what would she have to lose then, if she understood that? If she understood that a loving God won't separate a family like that? He judges on your heart, not your religion, after all. But eternal, inseparable family is a huge draw in the Mormon church, and people will close their mind to so many things just so they won't lose that promise.

But how could God say he is love if he separates those who love each other with some of the deepest bonds known on earth? I don't want to believe in that God, but I had to when I was Mormon, because that's what we were told: if your family isn't sealed to you, if your husband and children aren't sealed to you, you won't have them in heaven. It puts an individual under immense pressure to do everything right to be good enough for that God in order to get where they want to be: there's no grace in that. Grace is a gift, after all, not wages for work done.

I wish so badly I could show her how much she really is losing in that religion. All the falsehoods and twisted teachings aside, where is Christ? Where is salvation in him? Over a few months at church, how many lessons do you get on Christ? How thoroughly is he mentioned? If you're not learning the New Testament (and perhaps even if you are) its probably a lot less than you realized, once you pay attention. How can you be Christian if you barely learn of Christ?

You are losing Christ.

I thought, for the longest time, that if I left the religion, I'd be losing so much: prophets, revelations from leaders, scriptures and teachings beyond what others have. When I realized it was all false, that it was all just the falsehoods of a man seeking power, it was so easy to let go. It really only needed one false prophecy to show me that man was a false prophet: I found several.

And what did I gain shortly after leaving? I gained Christ! And more than that, I gained the love and peace of knowing God was always going to be in my heart. I realized that all everything was, all every Christian teaching ever has been, is love. God, Christ, any decent faith in the world, is about love and striving to be a better person in love.

I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me...

You lose nothing.

I wish I could say that to my mom, to my whole family, and truly be heard.

Angels

I don't remember much from my last Sunday attending the Mormon church. I'd already decided to leave--I think it was the night before that I'd found the things that made me say "I can't belong to this church."

I do remember sitting in Sacrament meeting beside my fiance, now husband, with our shared knowledge that we sat in a church that was anything but the only true church, and opened up to the Bible Dictionary in my quad, and I looked up what it said about angels.

I've done little research about angels in the Christian understanding, but I knew, reading that, that it was not right. My husband found what it said absolutely ridiculous. We sat there in that little shared bubble of disbelief, basically ignoring the speakers.

Angels are important to me for a big reason, and yet they're such a small part of everything I've come to learn about.

I'd been on my path to leaving the church for a long time, though I hadn't even realized it for most of it and denied it for a while longer when it became more obvious there at the end, during the big arguments over godhood with my husband. My all-important prayer to try to bring my husband back into the church seemed to be missing something. Or rather, I knew I wasn't understanding part of the answer. Really, what God was saying to me was simple. "Yes, you can try to bring him back, and I'll use your attempt to show you that you are meant to be with him. But, when you've made that decision, I'm going to lead you out of the church." I just wasn't hearing the last part.

Then, late at night, talking on the phone with him, I don't even remember what about now, much of the same I think, my fiance said something that stopped my heart and changed everything. He mentioned angels.

The seed for this had been planted months before. I'd gone to church with a non-Mormon friend, and she started talking about angels. I didn't know a lot of what she was talking about, and she was surprised. I thought then that it would be interesting to learn more about angels and the differences between Christianity and Mormonism in the view of angels, but for some reason never did. But...I knew there was a difference, and I knew I didn't know why.

So when Steven made that simple comment, the specifics of which I don't even remember now, I realized I wanted to learn more about the differences. And right then, I decided to start my research.

Perhaps we have guardian angels, after all.

Title of the Blog

I don't think I've yet talked about the title of my blog--because that is definitely how I feel about leaving Mormonism: I escaped godhood.

Why do I feel this way about that teaching? Why is escaping godhood such a relief to me?

Well, for one, its such a prideful teaching. It brings deity down to our level. Even the Greeks, Romans, and similar societies with many gods never brought their gods down to the level of ever having been a mere man. Even Egyptians believed their pharaohs to be more than just men from birth, as far as I know. It is prideful to think that we can become divine to the point of being all-powerful, all-knowing, and forever perfect.

I remember when I was still Mormon wondering if the reason we don't use most of our brains is because that's what makes us gods. Its kind of like how sci-fi shows say that aliens can communicate telepathically or use other higher brain functions because they use more of their brains than we do. Because of the way I had been taught, I reduced God's omniscience, omnipotence, and all his greatness down to brain capacity.

Aside from the pride and lackluster of an imperfect man turned perfect god (in which case he was once not perfect, and in theory is capable of being imperfect again), I don't like the role it put me into.

My role as a woman? I would marry a priesthood holder and be sealed to him, have no power in God's name on earth except to provide bodies for more spirits, die, hopefully go to the Celestial Kingdom, eventually become a goddess...and make lots of spirit babies as my husband created a world for them by arranging matter into a planet, and then watch in unacknowledged silence as my children suffered and struggled through the world, knowing only a portion of them would ever come back to me, and that many would never know me in that life, because my husband and his prophets thought it "inappropriate to pray to the Heavenly Mother," (to quote Gordon B. Hinckley).

It sounds rather more like sexual slavery, or perhaps motherhood slavery, rather than goddess-hood. I wouldn't even get my own world, I'd get my husband's. Assuming he was good enough to become a god. If he wasn't, what then? Would I be assigned to some other man as one of his wives? Would I be forever doomed to live without having spirit children, languishing in one place for all of eternity as everyone else moved on?

And where does it all end? Where does it all begin? Having a birth, a beginning of being, implies a beginning and an end. At least a beginning, somewhere...yet Mormons never talk about a first God, or where he might have come from...the implication is often that its just a big continuous circle of eternity, but how could that be? Marriage is a forever commitment, at least to people who actually choose to commit, and it certainly is in Mormonism, yet there's a beginning to that, even if there's no end. Would a continuous line of gods and their wives not be different?

It is far easier to accept a single, truly eternal God with no beginning nor end--time never was until humans were, because we live lives that have a beginning. Is that necessarily in our comprehension? No. We're humans. We don't even use our whole brain capacity. But it makes a lot more sense than the Mormon view. And as a female, its a whole lot more fair to not be subject to my husband when it comes to my salvation and "exaltation" (which I no longer believe in)--my salvation should be between me and God alone, and should not rely on anyone else. If I went through my life alone with just a Bible, I'd be able to get to Christ. But in the Mormon religion, I wouldn't be able to become a Goddess.

And yet another reason is the arduous and often way too controlling requirements of attaining godhood. If you don't do A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,and K, and probably L, M, and N too, you won't get there. And since your a sinner and can't do A-N perfectly all the time, you have to just hope you repented well enough each time you slipped up so that you'll still be good enough when you die. Whereas in Christianity all you have to do is have faith. When you have faith, when you believe in something good, when you strive for goodness because of your faith, you have done enough. And the faith is the key. All the other things will fall into place because of the path of goodness you have chosen through faith. And right there, you've gotten everything you can ever hope to receive as an imperfect human--faith, grace, peace, and the promise of something better.