A few months ago I had a conversation with a friend and she said some things that won’t leave my head. She had recently decided to distance herself from the church, and I asked if she minded sharing some of the thinking behind that decision. Her answer largely revolved around disagreements she has with the church’s position on LGBTQ issues, and she explained her position thoughtfully and well. While I don’t feel the same way she does, I sympathized with and understood her decision. She went on to talk about how she had grown tired of feeling like she was fighting the church on so many fronts. She mentioned that she had recently started attending sessions with a group of women who were all interested in examining their privilege and becoming better people that way, and talked about how nice it was to be with like-minded souls, in an environment that challenged her to become a better person. She really appreciated how that group was helping her grow and develop in the ways that she wanted to.
It was that last part that has been troubling me. What she was after—a group of people and a setting that challenged her to become a better person… isn’t that exactly what the church is supposed to provide? It really saddened me that her good desires had somehow led her away from the church instead of anchoring her to it. And if I’m being honest, I have occasionally felt similarly about my church experience—the feeling that my congregation isn’t approaching the process of spiritual growth in a way that resonates with me. It seems to me that the gospel and church of Jesus Christ should be a big enough tent to allow all of us to derive the challenge and the nourishment that we need. Shouldn’t there be room in this tent for any effort at improvement? So why are so many people (for I’m sure my friend is not alone in feeling this way) leaving in order to find growth and fulfillment elsewhere?
Perhaps it is simply a question of vocabulary. In some ways, gathering to examine your privilege and discuss how you can do better sounds a lot like what President Nelson said recently about the importance of daily repentance—“when Jesus asks you and me to ‘repent,’ He is inviting us to change our mind, our knowledge, our spirit—even the way we breathe. He is asking us to change the way we love, think, serve, spend our time…” Why are people like my friend not finding the nourishment they seek in doctrines like these? Is it because we do not focus sufficiently on the pure doctrine of Christ in our church meetings? I don’t know.
Arguably, any effort at becoming more Christlike can be called repentance. Indeed, much of the current, secular vocabulary of self-improvement - terms such as self-care, examining your privilege, social justice, equity etc - has a conceptual counterpart in the gospel vernacular, with phrases like, “love thy neighbor as thyself”, “why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye”, “where much is given, much is required”, and “all are alike unto God.” These secular ideals and corresponding prescriptions overlap with gospel concepts, but with one key difference - they generally omit references to the role played by faith and forgiveness. Yet this omission encompasses the heart of the gospel - the effects of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Can there really be true repentance without forgiveness? Can anyone be made whole without the intercession and atoning sacrifice of our Savior? Our best efforts and intentions cannot satisfy the demands of justice and mercy both; yet “all that is unfair about life can be made right through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.” (Lesson 2, Preach My Gospel)
There’s also the question of choosing the ways in which we want to grow. Who is best placed to make that decision? I understand the impulse to seek out people who are trying to develop in ways that resonate with you. That seems like a worthy and logical endeavor. But perhaps there is also something to be said for being pushed to grow in ways that you wouldn’t ordinarily choose? It is certainly possible that the discomfort I occasionally experience at church is part of God’s plan for my life—that He is nudging me in ways I didn’t know I needed.
What, in the end, is the role of the church in this regard? To strengthen the beliefs we hold most dear? To help us develop in the ways we seek? To push us to develop in divinely-inspired ways? To provide a place for us to learn to love and be kind to those who believe differently than we do? Probably all of the above…
I wish all good people, people who are earnestly seeking and striving to be better, could find in the church and in the gospel the support and guidance and nurturing they seek. I don’t know how to make that happen, but oh how I wish it could be so.
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