I spoke to the Gatherings group which meets in Deltona, FL. I shared these thoughts with them, and want to also share them on my blog.
When I was growing up, I didn’t see LGBTQ people. I didn’t know any. I didn’t consume any media which portrayed them, at least not until I was a teenager in the 1980’s when the news would have stories about gay people protesting for recognition of the pandemic wiping them out and demanding more research and attention to HIV/AIDS.
As a teenager I began understanding that I might be one of “them,” and that scared me. I denied the possibility and doubled down on being the best Mormon that I could be. But there were moments where my thoughts would go to “what if?”
At the time, the LDS Church had very strong teachings against gay people. Here I was with my identity fully invested in the church, and so was my family's. To explore the idea that I might be gay meant to shake the foundations that provided stability and meaning in my life. Every indication I had is that if I were gay I would be kicked out of church and probably out of my family. That made it critical for me to press down the queer part of me.
Even though I was in denial, I still heard those negative messages and thought what if that’s me? What if I’m an abomination? What if I’m a threat to the family? What if I’m an enemy to God? I certainly didn’t want to be those things.
As my teenage years progressed and it became more and more clear that I feel things for guys that I never do for girls, I accepted the idea that I’m defective. God would never want someone to feel these things therefore something is wrong with me.
When I was 19 years old, my bishop called me into his office to talk about serving a full-time mission. Even though I didn’t share why, he could tell I wasn’t excited about this idea. He told me to go home and pray to ask God if the church is true, if the Book of Mormon is true, if Joseph Smith was a true prophet. I went home and prayed, but not about those things. I asked, “God, do you love me? All of me? Can you love who I am and what I am?”
That was the first time I was honest with God about what I was experiencing, and this prayer was answered with an overwhelming feeling of love and warmth, and I heard the answer, “You are not broken.”
First, how sad that someone who grew up in this church, all those years of Primary, Sunday School, and youth programming, would wonder if God could love me.
Second, this answer contradicted what the presidents of the church taught. God shot an arrow through the idea that everything I had been taught and believed was true, certain, and unwavering.
This is a church of certainty. “I know this church is true.” “I know the Book of Mormon is true.” “I know the president of the church is a prophet of God.” Being an LGBTQ member is an experience that pushes against that certainty. I think many, probably most people will question some of what they’re taught, but generally queer people enter faith transitions earlier than their non-queer peers.
Over the years, I have received answers that are out of alignment with the church. It caused dissonance for me. But that’s also what allowed me to find a way to stay. I didn’t have to believe the things this church taught about LGBTQ people because I had very clear answers to the contrary. Nevertheless, being a queer Latter-day Saint was, and is, a difficult space to exist in. Over the years, I’ve seen the church change how it talks about gay people and in the policies. Things weren’t as fixed and certain as I’d been taught.
For 9 years now, I’ve been serving as a stake executive secretary. I make appointments for the stake presidency, I create & maintain the stake calendar, I create agendas for meetings, and I attend lots of meetings. It’s just as exciting as it sounds. It also means that when a general authority comes to my stake and meets with the stake presidency, they also bump into this gay man.
I have a small blog where I write about being a queer Latter-day Saint. I wrote about the first general authority I met and I told him I’m gay and how he reacted with love and kindness. This post went viral, over 500,000 visits. Even though at the time I was anonymous on my blog, suddenly I was out to everyone. As my sister’s friend asked, "How many single, stake executive secretaries who live in Florida and work at a university can there be?"
Several of these general authorities have invited me to meet with them when I travel to Salt Lake City, and I’ve had some interesting conversations with them, including with Elder & Sister Renlund. It's been an interesting experience to hear members of the Seventy and an apostle speak without certainty.
Sister Renlund’s father had a brother who was married to my grandma, he died in World War II. My grandma remarried and my mom is from the second marriage. My grandma was sealed to her first husband, and that was fine for my granddad until his wife died. That’s when certain questions became a big concern for him. Is he going to have no one in heaven? Does this mean he won’t be exalted? Are his children sealed to the other husband and he'll be their dad in heaven? While alive, a woman can only be sealed to one husband, but when she passes away she can be sealed to all the husbands she was legally married to during her life, and it will all get sorted out in heaven. If she chooses to be sealed to my granddad, the person she spent 70 years with, where does that leave her first husband?
We were talking about that and Elder Renlund said that we don’t know how it works, we don’t really know what heaven is like, but we’ve seen enough glimpses to know that it does work out for everyone and it is wonderful.
He has said something similar to that answer several times when I’ve visited with him. In a church of “I know this,” and “I know that,” this is not how I expected an apostle to answer. I’ve gotten similar responses from the Seventy I’ve met with.
This idea of not being certain, not knowing what the answer will be, not defining what the outcome must be, gives us the capacity to learn and grow, to seek what God wants for us. Until I was willing to be honest with God about how I experience life and ask if God could okay with me, I didn’t get an answer. God never was willing to respond to prayers begging Him to “fix” me, because I came with an answer, an outcome, and it wasn’t what God wanted for me.
The answer that I’m not broken sustained me for a long time. I’ve gotten a few other answers like that, such as it’s okay to date and seek a relationship,it is fine to leave this church, which clearly go against what our church leaders say. It puts me in a situation similar to the one that Joseph Smith described when local pastors were telling him that he was wrong and is a liar, yet he knew the answers he’d gotten from God. “I had seen a vision. I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it.”
Many people like that our church culture is one of certainty. It gives them a sense of safety. Here are the answers. They know if they check these boxes then they’ll receive the blessings they desire.
Having a culture of certainty creates a monoculture. People who have different viewpoints are likely going to be shy about sharing their thoughts in a Sunday School class. And it’s easy for others to become defensive and reply that is the incorrect answer, here’s what the acceptable answer is, and help keep everyone in line and the lesson on track. It leaves us blind to lessons we could learn from other perspectives. I don’t think that’s how God wants us to operate.
As I read the scriptures with my queer eyes, I more and more see that the things important to God are that we love each other, that we look for people who are vulnerable and try to make them more secure. We are to be welcoming to the foreigner and open our home and we are responsible for their safety because we’re operating from a place of security.
Earlier this year we got new policies about trans people at church. How certain are we that God wants these policies? If these are hurting trans people, what do we do about it? Do these seem like the policies a God of love would approve? Are they consistent with the idea of loving and treating others how I want to be treated?
Having queer people in church is powerful, it shakes up the certainty. I’ve heard parents of queer people say, “I know a loving God won’t separate me in heaven from my child.” “I trust that God will make it all okay.” That’s another way of saying, “Maybe our leaders are wrong, maybe God isn’t beholden to the rules we say He has to follow.” It’s their way of making some space for the dissonance they feel between what is being taught and the reality of their queer family member.
In the Genesis story we read about binaries. God divided darkness from the light. God created the heaven and the earth. God separated the water from the land. God created male and female. And yet, if we look around, none of those are binaries, they are spectrums. There’s sunsets and sunrises and eclipses. There’s swamps and marshes and bogs where the land and water are mixed. The sky has clouds and humidity, that’s water in the air. These spectrums are pleasing to God.
In Romans 1:20, the apostle Paul teaches that we have an invisible God but can know them by the things that God makes. When we want to know about God, we look at God’s creations and these will testify of what God is like. Considering all we can see around us, God loves diversity. God loves exceptions. God loves peculiarities. God doesn’t stick to binaries. God revels in variety. Same-sex behavior (courtship, sex, pair-bonding, and parental activities) have been documented in over 450 species of animals. What does this tell us about God? Having people whose gender is trans, nonbinary, genderfluid, intersex, androgynous, and so on, is more in line with what we observe about God from His creations than the idea that there is strictly one kind of man and one kind of woman and that’s it, no other variety allowed.
I leave these thoughts with you, and hope it helps lead you away from certainty and towards the humility of belief that perhaps we don’t perfectly know God, that our leaders can be wrong about things and as we grow in understanding perhaps it’s time to question if it’s time to change.
We say that people are to endure to the end, and that can sound like hold tight and don't question and suffer to the end. I think a better way is to say we should grow to the end. Athletes work to increase their endurance, they grow their ability. How can we as individuals and as a community grow? When we see policies are harming people we can ask what God would have us do? That’s a path to growth and spiritual maturity. Are we more concerned about being certain or about finding truth?
