What Ye Seek, Ye Shall Find

The following is not an official publication of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, rather the ramblings of one of its members.

I’ve noticed a trend on social media regarding the Church: articles, blogs and posts meant to inspire change, even a revolution, within the Church. Specifically the culture - the people. These well-intentioned messages advocate for more love and less judgement, more acceptance and less exclusion, both individually and collectively. They speak of a church culture filled with turned-up noses and dressed-down eyes.

While I do not doubt the sincerity of their words and know the stereotypes and hurtful scenarios they speak of do exist, I simply want to say, I love the people of this church.

My background

I was not raised in a “typical” LDS household. My parents converted in their early twenties and had to flip a 180 from their previous lifestyle; we were loud, unruly, sarcastic and crude. We had little money and drove to church in a beat-up “Mormon Van” (you know you remember the type) constantly caked in dust to a ward, where I just assumed, we were the poorest ones on the pews. Our summers more resembled something from WWF than PBS and we frequently watched movies that would have made the church ladies gasp. (Yippee ki ya anyone?)

My skirts were too short, my language a little sassy. I’d throw on a sweatshirt while walking to seminary (to cover the halter-top I snuck on after picking-up my best friend that morning) only to sneak back into my house after school and change before my parents could see me: I’m tired just thinking about all the sneaking. Even more exhausting was how I bombarded my sweet, sweet seminary teacher with a barrage of questions hoping to catch him in a “got ya” moment.

I have been going to this church, pretty much every Sunday, for 36 years. (PS our meetings were three hours long, so that’s a lot of church.) I have attended meetings all over, from Kauai to Connecticut, Las Vegas to Venice, and not once - NEVER ONCE - can I recall feeling anything less than welcomed.

The people

I have met people of every race, ethnicity, size and background, with stories and testimonies that touched my heart and even pierced me to my soul. I have been built up, little by little, into who I am today through the love, service and words offered by seemingly ordinary people, who as it turns out, were extraordinary:

The youth leader whose unconditional love and constant supply of chocolate kept me coming back every week, the primary teacher who took my rambunctious personality in stride, and the bishop who once told a joke with the word “hell” in it.

The unassuming brother and his family who delivered fresh-picked pears while my husband was deployed, the anonymous member who left gift cards on our doorstep as a teen, the mid-single sister who babysat and loved my children as her own, and the countless women who’ve held my babies to give me some much needed respite.

The Young Women's leaders who enthusiastically threw me a bridal shower - even though they hadn’t been my leaders for near a decade, the awkwardly shy visiting teaching companion who dragged me out with her EVERY MONTH when I was 18, and the sweet widower who bore powerful testimonies about perseverance.

And my list could go on, and on, and on.

The Utopian vision of sinners from all backgrounds worshiping together, serving one another and just trying to be a little more like our Savior is already here. I see it every week.

Is it perfect? Of course not.

Does this mean I have never been the recipient of an eye roll or bathroom gossip? I’m sure I have. Those that know me have commented, “Oh you’re really laid back, it’s easy for you to let things go.” Or “you’re so outgoing, you have no problem making friends.”

True, true, and true: I am quite spectacular. But there is nothing so unique about me that others cannot do the same. I will even let you in on my secret…

Long ago I decided that I did not go to this church because of the people. Mostly because as a female, I thought I had to have bad 80’s hair and my clothes couldn’t match.

(I am happy to report I have been proven wrong, on both accounts, several times over.) I decided that I go to this church because it is where I want to be. It is how I show my Heavenly Father that I love Him and I am trying to be better.

Accept the imperfections

My husband likes to use the following analogy when I am annoyed. (Usually at him.) If there is a perfectly painted wall with a tiny speck on it, we humans like to focus on that speck and ignore the rest of the pristine wall. On Sundays, I try to ignore the speck, the smudge, even the sloppy hand print.

No one is perfect - everyone has flaws - even if their flaw is thinking they have none. It can be so much easier to show Christ-like love to the tatted-up smoker than the pretentious know-it-all; but God loves them both and so should I.

Elder Dale G. Redlund shared a story about a mother and daughter in post-apartheid South Africa. The women “were treated less than kindly by some white members” (that’s plural) while at church. Afterwards the daughter complained bitterly (and deservedly) to her mother. This wise woman’s response was,

“Oh, Thoba, the Church is like a big hospital, and we are all sick in our own way. We come to church to be helped.”

If this woman can forgive such a hurtful offense, in what should be a sanctuary for compassion, then surely I can get over a missed invite or less than friendly tone of voice.

It’s O...K...

I do not want to downplay the serious pains some receive at the hands of other Church members, or worse, their children receive. President Uchtdorf explains,

“…to be perfectly frank, there have been times when members or leaders in the Church have simply made mistakes. There may have been things said or done that were not in harmony with our values, principles, or doctrine. I suppose the Church would be perfect only if it were run by perfect beings. God is perfect, and His doctrine is pure. But He works through us —His imperfect children —and imperfect people make mistakes.”

Life has taught me that everyone, and I mean everyone has something their dealing with; even when people look similar, their stories and struggles are not.

Everybody has pains, everybody needs and deserves love. I am grateful that I sought out, and found that love within the walls of this Church, with the people of this Church; The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.