When I first lost my faith, I had every intention of resigning my church membership, ASAP. I had my letter written up, which I intended to mail the day after I graduated from BYU.
Fast forward five years: I haven’t resigned, and I haven’t graduated from BYU either. I have no real intention of resigning, for the time being, though it’s certainly something I’ll consider in the future.
The main reason I haven’t resigned is because it will hurt my family. The church means everything to them, and if I were to formally sever ties with it, my family would be devastated. Resignation means a cancellation of my temple blessings. I’ve never been endowed, but I was born in the covenant, and resigning would mean that I would no longer be sealed to my family– that I wouldn’t be part of their family in heaven. Obviously, a god who would separate family members like that is not a god I care to worship, but to my family, those sealings are very real, and deadly serious. I’m sure that the fact that I’m still sealed to my family despite my earthly indiscretions brings them a measure of comfort that I’m not willing to take away.
It has occurred to me to just resign and then not tell them, but I don’t think that’s a very good solution for me. One can’t count on the discretion of local ecclesiastical leaders, and I’ve heard horror stories of parents finding out about a child’s resignation upon the omission of their name from tithing settlement paperwork.
Perhaps this sounds very self-sacrificing: I’m such a saint, because I don’t want to hurt my family. I don’t want to hurt my family, but I’m also not too keen on dealing with the way my parents might react to my resignation. Telling my parents that I’d lost my faith was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and they reacted very badly. Our relationship was strained for a very long time, and it was painful and sad and horrible and more difficult than I can say. It was so incredibly awful, and I’m afraid that resigning would cause a similar situation, and I’m just not willing to go through that. I love my family, and we have a great relationship right now, and I’m not willing to risk it. Maybe that’s cowardly, or selfish, or silly, but that’s the way it is.
Of course, it’s lovely to try to keep the peace with my family, but it also helps that the church hasn’t been harassing me. I haven’t been bothered by home teachers or visiting teachers since I left Utah four years ago. Nobody calls me. I don’t get pop-ins from concerned bishops or Relief Society presidents. My only contact with the church in years has been a single letter, mass-produced for the inactive Young Single Adults of my stake. It was inadvertently hilarious– I’ll have to post it here. The church pretty much leaves me alone. My problems with the church are with what Salt Lake does, not local leadership. I know a lot of people resign to end harassment from their wards, but it’s just not an issue for me.
Some people feel that resignation is imperative, that it provides a sense of closure, that we have a moral obligation to resign. Others feel that resignation shows tacit agreement that the church has some sort of authority over us– after all, I stop being Mormon when I say so, not the Church Office Building, right? I haven’t resigned from the Burger King Kid’s Club, either.
It does bother me to have my name on the records of an organization that I find morally repugnant in many ways. It bothers me that they count me among their numbers. But anybody that knows me knows what I stand for.
I like to think that I’m living proof that not all Mormons are homophobic, or sexist, or conservative, or orthodox. I’m living proof that not all Mormons believe in the Book of Mormon, or Joseph Smith. Who knows? In a few years, maybe somebody like me will be featured in an “I’m a Mormon” ad.
For a long time, I felt like Mormonism was something I needed to “get over.” In a way, that’s true. There was a lot of anger that I needed to process. I had to find a new way of looking at the world, a new way of understanding myself and others. But I’m also discovering just how much a part of me Mormonism really is. And because I have processed so much of that anger, I’m now able to look at my Mormon heritage (somewhat) objectively, to be interested in it, even to celebrate it. It’s no longer something that I’m trying to ignore, or get over, or itching to see in the rearview mirror, because I’m just starting to understand that it’s a huge part of who I am. It’s a part of me, and it always will be, and I’m ok with that.
Will I ever resign? I don’t know. I only know that for me, right now, it’s not something I feel the need to do. I’ve felt the need in the past, and I’ll probably feel it in the future, but right now? Right now I’m just fine.
