Removal of Youth Achievement and Mission Plaques from Church Foyers

In this announcement setting new standards for appropriate foyer art in chapels, it was also announced that display cases would also be removed. Since this is where many wards have chosen to display the youth achievement awards and mission plaques, it means those displays are either going to be relocated or removed altogether.

This change has rubbed some people the wrong way. I have something to add that may change the way some feel about the removal of the missionary plaques specifically.

Did you know the Church doesn't pay for those plaques in many areas? If your family doesn't buy one, you don't get one. That's why neither my husband nor I had one. Our stake was one where these were not provided.

My husband and I both were both on the hook to pay for our own missions because our families couldn't (his) or wouldn't (mine) help financially. When you're on the line to pay for it yourself, you quickly realize what matters and what doesn't. I sold everything I owned of any value whatsoever to pay for my mission. It wasn't enough, so my former branch president stepped up to offer to pay the remainder. No one buys you a plaque when you're serving on someone's else's dime.

So let me ask you: Are mission plaques really so important a tradition to continue when they are a needless financial burden that many members and families are already being excluded from? 

If so, tell your family to buy one anyway and hang it in their house.

I have long been of the opinion that missionary service is much more like a Mormon cotillion for some families, rather than a desire to give selfless service. Anything we can do to confront and change that is a good thing.

And let's be real here for a minute. Am I annoyed that our foyer artwork has been reduced to a lily white nonsense vision of Jesus? Sure. Would I be more upset if they were spending needless money on new artwork, rather than using what we already have—especially now? 

I want brown Jesus on a church wall in my lifetime. Why? Because Jesus was brown, is brown. I'm not here to say it doesn't matter. It does. 

I want food in brown bellies more. 

Can we do both? 

Sure. 

If I have to choose, which one am I choosing? Food in brown bellies. Every time.

A Lesson in Scriptural Literacy: Prescriptive vs. Descriptive Reading

Let's talk about something that has been on my mind since the last time someone brought up racism in the Book of Mormon in my mentions on Twitter.

There are two types of scripture reading: descriptive and prescriptive. Prescriptive reading is when we look at the text, and in an effort to apply it to our lives, we ask it to tell us what to do and think about a variety of subjects. This is in contrast to descriptive reading, which is when the text is simply telling you what happened, independent of what the human author/God intends you to take from it in terms of your actions.

This may be obvious, but not everything that happens in the scriptures is good. We're not intended to copy every single thing that we see happening in them because the scriptures are not a purely prescriptive text. So just because there were petty, judgmental, and racist characters in the Book of Mormon, that doesn't give license to us to be petty, judgmental, and racist in our day. Rather, their inclusion is a descriptive warning about the moral rot these forces caused an entire civilization.

To interpret everything that happens in the scriptures as instantly transferable lessons into absolutely any situation, with no independent thought whatever, is to ignore the endowments of intelligence and common sense God has given to us all.

If I have to explain to anyone that you're not supposed to look at the racism in the Book of Mormon and think "surely THIS is the salient information God intended for me to take from this text and apply to my life," it's because you don't understand critical reading. You're also probably a little bit racist and looking for reasons not to deal with that. And honestly, I don't think there's a worse text to justify that, because d'you remember what happens to all the racists in the Book of Mormon?

They die. Bloodily and meaninglessly.

Which is why, for most lessons in the Book of Mormon, there are prescriptive and descriptive passages that teach the same lessons. 

Sermon on the Mount/at Bountiful? Jesus is telling me exactly what he wants me to do. Prescriptive.

The moral inventory in Alma 5, where I'm supposed to engage with every uncomfortable question about the impact of my actions on others, with no appeals to my good intentions? Clearly prescriptive.

The rapes, genocide, racism, sexism, classism, dereliction of duty, slavery, exploitation of labor, addiction, prejudice, and hosts of other depraved human behavior? The scriptures do not give license for these things to exist just because they're in the record. These things are in the record to describe how they happen. They're the harm and injustices of living that we need God to save us from. They're the punishable offenses we have God's solemn oath he will punish us for if we don't repent.

 

These things exist in the scriptures because they exist in our lives. These are the testimonies not just of God's power, but of ours: to be better than we often choose to be. To give into our better natures in resistance to evil. To do the right thing, even when it's hard.

 

So the idea that there is racism in the Book of Mormon shouldn't surprise anyone. The Book of Mormon wouldn't be of much value in speaking to the evils of our day if it didn't.

Allyship

As you all can plainly see, I don't put "ally" anywhere on my social media pages. My reasoning for this isn't because I don't want to be one. It's because I don't think that call is up to me.

Being an ally is an individual experience that I would share with each individual BIPOC or LGBTQ+ person. It will look different with each and every person. And with each person, being his/her/their ally is different. I need to treat it like an individual experience.

There are individuals in those communities to whom I will never be an ally. They will never feel safe with me because I'm not who they need. It's not for me to feel rejected by that. The most respectful thing I can do is accept it and move on. 

A black woman who is so tired of white feminism that she just doesn't want any interactions with any white or mixed race women, regardless of their intentions. The best thing I can do there is to respect her space and leave her alone.

An LGBTQ+ person who wants full-time commitment to LGBTQ+ rights from anyone they call an ally in their lives. There's nothing wrong with that person asking for that much, and me recognizing that just isn't me.

Some people have clearly defined who their allies are. It would be absurd for me to go to them and say "I'm your ally" when they've made it clear that I'm not. It's not up to me to make people reinterpret the allies they want to suit my level of engagement and commitment.

So, how do I approach allyship? I do my best to be generally informed about what bad allyship looks like by listening to many different kinds of voices. I listen to what people say they want, make improvements where I can, and self-sort my way into or out of their orbit. I accept that I need to learn, and there is no better time to embrace those lessons than when someone says "you can do better." I may not ultimately turn into the ally they want. But I'll be better than I was when I went into the conversation.

Aspiring to be an ally to everyone, individually, while being mature enough to recognize I won't make the cut for some is what allyship means to me. I'm not perfect, but this is how I try to treat every person who comes across my path.

Seeking, and Not Finding, Healing at Church

There's a tension worth exploring between two ideas about healing I've heard at opposite ends of Mormonism's attendance spectrum:

1. The Church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints, which is Dear Abby's variation of Luke 5:30-31: "they that are whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but the sinners to repentance."
   
2. You cannot heal in the same environment that made you sick.

How much I believe either statement depends on the nature of the sickness being addressed. Part of what allowed me to ignore so many things for so long in the Church was because I was going in and out of YSA units so fast, it didn't matter if someone bothered me. Chances were great either they would leave or I would. But once I got married, all of that changed. I couldn't bank on another move, another semester removing crappy people and situations from my life. I had to accept that people are who they are, they very seldomly decide to change, and I would have to find a way to live with that.

I've been thinking a lot about the sacrament meeting I went to at the nursing home. The speaker, for all his other faults, pointed out that we come to church to be edified. We go because it's supposed to feed us and help us. If that's not happening, it's a waste of time. It was an acknowledgement that not everyone who comes to church seeking healing ends up finding it.

 
I think I like the analogy of eating together a little better than the idea of labeling people in the congregation as being "sick." Sickness is something that happens against your will, in response to illnesses we can't always see or confront directly.

People at church aren't racist, sexist, and full of malice towards the marginalized because they're "sick." They're like that because they can be, and there's very little that prohibits or punishes that behavior at church. It's a potluck and that's what they choose to bring.

So my way of looking at it is "Am I putting my time and energy to make something that took time, energy, effort, and quality ingredients to this potluck, and the only thing there for me to eat is what I brought?" At that point, that's a crap potluck. Plain and simple.

I can stay at my own house and eat what I was going to bring. Why do I need to go somewhere else to do that? The only answer to that I've come up with so far is "the hope it'll be different this time." When I'm in the mood to let my curiosity override my past experience.     

Listening and Learning in Progressive Mormon Spaces

I realize there are conservative Mormons who engage with me because they're "here to learn and listen." 

Can we talk about what learning and listening does and doesn't look like?

Be Honest with Yourself 

Why are you here? No, really. Why are you seeking out progressive people to talk to? Is it really to challenge your own views? Or to challenge us to arguments whenever you feel like it?

Do you randomly go up to people in the street and start arguments with them? I sincerely hope not. If so, you need to get that looked at. 

If you would never do that in real life, why do you think it's okay to do it online?

If you're here to listen and learn, that means you shouldn't be doing the majority of the talking. You should be observing, taking in, thinking, probing yourself about what you see and hear, not asking people here to do that for you.

Some of you aren't here to "listen and learn." You're here to teach, and I don't remember signing up for your class. And guess what? My platform is my classroom, not yours. You're in my space because I'm allowing you to be in it. But that doesn't make you entitled to my time, space, and energy. You are not entitled to ask me whatever questions you want, whenever you want. 

Why?

Because unlike a professional educator, I'm not being paid to teach you.

Be Genuine

Now, some of you genuinely do want to "listen and learn," but only because you think it'll give you some kind of magic bullet insight to save me from myself and bring me around to your way of thinking.

Take your knight in shining tin foil armor somewhere else.

Some of you show up in conversations with me with this very odd "marketplace of ideas" economy in your own minds, where you think if you're willing to concede to how I think, I am under some obligation to do so in return.

To quote Shakespeare, I will eat your heart in the marketplace. 

If I concede that I'm wrong about something, or that someone else has a better way of thinking, it will be based on the merit of their position and nothing else. Don't expect bad arguments and untenable positions to win friends and influence people.

It's Not About You

If you're going to be here, don't expect the spaces you enter to be about you and serve you and your agenda. If you want that, go to church. Heavens knows you already get that there in ways many of us don't. That's how we ended up in online faith communities. That's why those spaces exist. 

Now, because many of us were once like you, we do make space and allowance for you to make mistakes while you're here. We know you're going to say and do hurtful things here unintentionally that you don't fully understand. We're not perfect, but many of us volunteer to help you in those moments.

If that happens, don't get mad. Say thank you. If this happens, it means someone saw you in that situation and decided to believe in you. They took their time and gave it to you freely to teach you something.

Most people only give you that chance once, so don't waste it.

Loving My Enemies

Jesus taught me to love my enemies.

He didn't say to throw out the recognition that when people are abusive to marginalized people, they are still my enemies.

All the injunctions that Christ gives to us to be loving, to show mercy, to have compassion, nowhere in those commandments is there a responsibility to be their friend, support their actions, or to affirm their worldview.

In what Christ taught, I would still tear down down the systems of inequality these people have built. I would reject and stand against that oppression in word and deed. 

What he taught is that hatred for my enemies, retaliation, hatred, and revenge, should never be a part of those efforts. 

The most loving thing I can do for white supremacists in the Church is to invite them to change, while refusing to be changed or swayed by them.

Belonging

I want to talk about the conversation I had with my Relief Society president today. She dropped by because she wanted to hear more about the testimony I bore on Sunday, which I haven't talked about in great detail here yet. And now that I've talked to her, I feel better doing so.

As part of that testimony of being inclusive, I talked about how profoundly unwelcome I've been made to feel by other members of the church. I told them I've had members of the church tell me in no uncertain terms that I don't belong, largely because of labels they put on me. I told them how careful we need to be with the labels we put on people, whether because of politics or social issues. I said I'm not alone in feeling that way, and how deep I've had to dig within myself to find the testimony that will let me stay.

"I know we say the church is true in this meeting. But because of where I am emotionally right now, the best I can do is to say I know the church is more true than what we do to it sometimes."

Who wouldn't say that in front of a member of the stake presidency, right? 

And here's the thing. I have a lot of respect in my ward, including among older members. I could see in their faces that they were shocked at what I was saying. They couldn't fathom why anyone would say that about me. But that's because they don't really know me. And I had a small train of people come over and hug me, assuring me that I do belong.

I turned to my friend sitting next to me and said, "I want to believe them. I really do. But would they still be saying this if they knew I supported gay marriage?"

Would they still feel this way if they knew I didn't vote for Donald Trump? 

If they knew I thought Prop 8 was the worst mistake the church has ever made? If they knew I felt like the leaders who supported that policy will have to answer to God for it someday?

Some of them probably would. But there are people in that room with me every Sunday who wouldn't. They would call me a "demoncrat" (even though I'm not registered to either party) and tell me I don't deserve my temple recommend.

I left feeling better than I had at church for a long time, mostly because I respected myself more for making myself visible, to the extent that I felt able to do that. I felt like I'd staked a claim and made a space for myself, and it brought back that feeling of belonging.

I didn't expect a knock on my door. And I probably should have, honestly. But my Relief Society president and I have a really good relationship. I respect her and regard her as a safe person to talk to. She does the labor to listen, which is what she came to do today. So I told her about my life. I told her things about me that no one else in my ward knows. I told her about the experiences I've had with marginalized members of the Church, and the ways I'm trying to learn what it means to be a real ally to them and to actually do it. 

I talked for a long time. It all sort of just spilled out of me. I can't begin to hope to remember everything I said. But she listened intently, without ever telling me I was wrong. She validated everything I said--including how I wished the church could be safer for all of us. We do too much for the sake of keeping people comfortable who are already safe in our community, when the people who need to feel safe will never be comfortable sitting with us until we make room for them.

That really struck her. I could see it in her face.

She thanked me for sharing my feelings and experiences with her. She said it gave her a lot to think about. She came in a spirit of listening and wanting to understand, not correction. And I'll never forget her for that.

This experience made me realize I can do this. I have the privilege and social influence to make other people visible and encourage change. I don't have to apologize for loving people and wanting to make space for them. If anything, I need to let that desire work in me even more.

 

 

I can't change the entire church. I can't change policies. I can't change the minds of the general leadership. But I can make the spots on either side of me in the pews a safer place for everyone. And I can be a voice to show others how to do that.

I'm sure this looks ordinary how I'm describing it, but it was a life changing experience for me. It was an answer to my prayers to find my place again in the community I've gave my heart to, when that hasn't been an easy thing to do. It was a reminder of the hearts that beat beside mine, all yearning for the same thing: to love, to be loved, and to do good for someone in need. 

That is the church I joined. And in many ways, that is the church I'm trying to rediscover from where I stand now.    

Esteemed as Dross: A Meditation on Injustice from Alma 32

Alma 32 is the reason I got baptized. It was part of my Come to Jesus, burning bush, ask and ye shall receive, if any man lack wisdom let him ask of God moment. It was my first meaningful experience with the Book of Mormon. An answer to prayer.

Relevant to this is how uncomfortable I've felt at church recently. I don't feel heard or recognized, and that bothers me. But I'm also aware that people of color and LGBTQ+ communities have had it so much worse. I'm at my wit's end with marginalization. And once again, this chapter has been an answer to my prayers. It provides so much clarity into behavior I can't accept anymore, the pressure to be sensitive to the insensitive. It gives language to what I find so abhorrent, which up until now I haven't been able to express.

The background to this chapter is Alma, the prophet, is approaching a multitude of men, women, and children who have been excluded from religious fellowship because of their poverty. The record makes clear in verse 5 that the priests, analogous for bishops today, were especially guilty of perpetuating this exclusion from the synagogues. It was both a failure of policy in the local leadership, as well as social exclusion by lay members of the church.

"They were not permitted to enter into their synagogues to worship God, being esteemed as filthiness; therefore they were poor; yea, they were esteemed by their brethren as dross." Alma 32:3

Here we see the dehumanization upon which these policies and practices of exclusion rest: the reduction of the divine nature of another human being as "filthiness," their standing in the church reduced to "dross," the waste product discarded during the purification of metals. In the vision of these church leaders of a "holy" and "clean" society, there was no room for the poor and disadvantaged. They were seen as expendable to that vision, collateral damage in the fight against all that was "unpure."

I'm not talking about the formal disciplinary processes of being disfellowshipped or excommunicated, although these are also relevant. Neither of those is a reason to ever remove someone from the Church. (See 3 Nephi 18:22-34 and 2 Nephi 26:23-33) I'm talking about making someone's presence at church so unbearable, through bullying and ostracizing, that it literally chases someone away from even attending church anymore. I'm talking about bishops and bishoprics "inviting" someone who is LGBTQ+ not to attend a congregation anymore because their presence there is making other people "uncomfortable."

I've spoken to people who've had these experiences. I believe them. It shouldn't happen. But it does.

Alma is speaking to people who have been dehumanized by church leaders, who benefit from their labor, subjugation, and systematic oppression. And he speaks to that experience directly in a sermon I've never fully appreciated until today.

It would be easy to confound Alma's language of "it is well that ye are cast out of your synagogues" with praise for the oppressors who did this to them. That is not the message here. He is praising their faithfulness in God in the face of this injustice. He separates their divine worth from their mortal conditions, teaching them to view their present state with an eternal perspective. God is not responsible for what happened to them, but he will help them to overcome it. He is trying, with what language he has, to find meaning in what would otherwise be meaningless violence against them.

He also shows them how God honors suffering and sacrifice, in beatitudes and promises for them specifically:Verse 12 uses the word "necessary" for this experience they're having, "necessary that ye should learn wisdom." That wisdom encompasses a lot which he doesn't mention by name, but includes of course the recognition of hypocrisy in leadership.
He praises them for their humility repeatedly. There is no other group of people in scripture who are praised this much for being humble. It says something about the souls to whom Alma was sent.

And rather than minimizing the relevance of their poverty to their present circumstances to make the church look better, Alma speaks in honesty to how they've been treated. He doesn't try to manipulate their narrative in order to give glib responses to their struggles. Poverty is undesirable for many reasons. But it is defined by the erosion of choice. Their ability to shape their own lives has been taken from them by those who rely upon/benefit most from their systemic oppression.

Alma presents the gospel of Jesus Christ in its most fundamental terms: a choice to elevate themselves, regardless of their earthly circumstances. Distinct from the prosperity gospel, he doesn't promise them money. He promises salvation: the ability to transcend their mortal condition. He promises them freedom, esteem, and equality in the presence of God. It's a choice that costs nothing, and exists independent of the conditions imposed upon them by anyone else. For once, they got to feel the dignity of people who choose the outcomes of their own lives. That's what the gospel of Jesus Christ represented to these people. A choice no one could take away from them.

Without choice, there can be no Dignity

For that reason, Alma makes a necessary observation about compulsion. It is not the mode by which God operates. Faith, not compulsion, is what he desires from his children. And no amount of certainty can cover that compulsion, wherever it exists. Much of how we treat LGBTQ+ members depends upon compulsion: compulsion that they should be celibate before they can join with us. Compulsion to comply with the narratives straight Mormon leadership create for them. Compulsion to act exactly how the church wants them to act, or to risk being removed from their families eternally. Compulsion to choose between their identities as children of God and who they can be in their healthiest, happiest state.

I've heard many times that certainty is the opposite of faith. But I disagree. Faith and knowledge must coexist together as separate stages in the process of learning, as outlined in this chapter. What I learned this morning is the opposite of faith is compulsion, for these two states cannot coexist together. In every way the church or its people rely upon compulsion to dehumanize and ostracize anyone, God will hold us accountable.

Why? Because when we challenge and remove anyone's choice to be themselves, we erode at that person's dignity. That is not what God asked us to do. And he doesn't sanction us when we try to respond to any problem that way. 

President Nelson's Tithing Messaging in the Developing World

On his global tour that included stops in Nairobi, Kenya, President Russell M. Nelson made a statement that then made the rounds on Twitter.

“We preach tithing to the poor people of the world because the poor people of the world have had cycles of poverty, generation after generation... That same poverty continues from one generation to another, until people pay their tithing.”

I could see saying this about fast offerings. Setting aside and saving a little to help others, no matter how little you have, is how communities thrive and flourish. It's a principle of kindness and sacrifice where the end goal is visible.

This? I'm not sure what to make of this.

I grew up poor. I've gone hungry many times throughout my life, including during years when I paid my tithing. Tithing isn't some magic bullet for poverty and hunger. It's a commandment with a blessing, and the blessing isn't always wealth, financial prosperity, comfort, or ease.

God didn't institute tithing because he needs, or even particularly values, money. Jesus taught that lesson to Peter when he pulled a coin from the fish's mouth. He has only ever needed faith from his disciples to change their circumstances. I hope our leaders remember that, and the African Saints will learn that lesson in their own way, independent of what any leader of the Church says to them.

No matter what, teaching tithing to financially disadvantaged people will always have bad optics. It was one of my least favorite lessons to teach in São Paulo, Brazil for exactly this reason. The knowledge that it wasn't me asking was the only way I could do it some days.

President Nelson has the ability to promise nations that if members pay their tithing, their burdens and cycles of poverty will cease. That would be preferable over this prescriptive language, in which those who don't even know about tithing are being condemned for not paying it. Given that some of the wealthiest nations on earth are full of people who also don't pay tithing, this message just isn't going to land in any way that is logical.

I'm sure President Nelson is doing his best. I'll be praying for him, as I will for the Saints in Africa. Most people are doing the best they know how with what they have. And I hope God will look upon all people with mercy, as he has ever done.

Disillusionment

For the first time in 12 years, I'm not looking forward to general conference.

 

I don't know how to take instruction on how to be a better disciple of Christ from leaders who just paid their lawyers to dig up dirt on a sexual assault victim.

 

I don't know how to sit next to people in a pew who voted overwhelmingly for, and continue to support, a presidential candidate who admitted to being a rapist. 

 

I don't know how to contain the disgust and disappointment I feel every time I see members of the Church engage in blatant prejudice. I'm tired of correcting racism because my leaders won't. I'm tired of correcting sexism because my leaders won't.

 

I'm tired of anyone who doesn't perfectly conform to every norm and standard being bullied and harassed until they're chased out. I'm tired of trying to put broken pieces back together from the messes other people make when they destroy someone else's life. 

 

I'm so tired of hearing the gospel is perfect, even if the Church and the people are not. Because from where I'm standing, there is absolutely no point in having a church if no one is actually going to bother using the gospel. That perfect gospel, at its heart, means repentance. It is a reconciling to God AND to or neighbor for the wrongs that we've done. If we are not a people who repent, we are not a people who follow Christ.

 

Where is the repentance for the racism perpetuated by our church and the people in it? Where is the repentance for the sexual violence that has been done to women and children by lay leaders in our church? Where is the repentance for the collective shrugging off of LGBTQ+ members?

 

The gospel Jesus Christ is supposed to mean change. I don't see change. I see excuses. I see lukewarmness that Jesus would spit from his mouth. I see injustice. I see anguish from too many good people who are attacked for daring to challenge oppression and for speaking the truth.

 

Any person who defends the Church, its leaders, or its people in doing evil is no brother or sister of mine. They have no authority that I am bound to recognize. And out of the love and respect I have for myself, I will not allow myself to be led into sin by it.

The Lesson I would give in Church for Confronting Racism

I've been thinking about the challenge of how to address racism with a primarily white audience in a church setting. How do you discuss inappropriate behavior with a group of people who either doesn't understand how, or disagrees that, their own behavior could be problematic or offensive. In discussing what racism looks like, sounds like, on either an individual or systemic level, it's bound to leave people feeling called out for language and behavior they may have used before.

When people talk about racism, there are barriers that can prevent meaningful conversation and mutual understanding from taking place. A few to consider: 

• Abstraction: the refusal to call racist language, behaviors, and attitudes what they are, or to reinterpret them as something else. 
• Projection: when folks who do engage in racism avoid confronting their own behaviors by focusing on the problematic behavior of others. 
• Diversion: where people attempt to deflect sincere or earnest conversation through humor, distractions, or minimizing the importance or relevance of the subject.
• Eruption: an emotional outburst, usually intended to usurp victims of racial violence by concocting a narrative in which they are the real victims.

The goal is to have people reexamine and reinterpret their own life experiences, identify their own biases, confront them, and replace them with truth. A lesson on racism is ultimately a lesson on repentance and reflection. It requires honest self-examination. It requires silence, in which the Spirit can testify and reach hearts.

I would begin by inviting the class to privately reflect on their thoughts, language, and behavior around people of color. What would Jesus ask you to change about those interactions? I would start with a pen and paper activity for 5-10 minutes, letting them know ahead of time that they won't have to share afterwards.

Then I would review the fundamentals of repentance: acknowledging the sin, resolve to change behavior and making restitution, asking God for forgiveness, and making the commitment not to repeat the sinful behavior. Supplement with scriptures. Some good ones to consider:

• 2 Nephi 26:23-33
• Matthew 12:36; 15:11
  
• Acts 11:5-9
• Ephesians 4:29-32
  
• D&C 18:10-11
  
• D&C 38:25-27
  

I love a good chalkboard list, so I would open the discussion to the group to brainstorm what resolving to change our behavior looks like in the context of dismantling racism? If the group can't come up with any, here are some to get them started:

• When you hear other people making racist jokes or judgments, even when there's only white people around, do not passively accept it. Challenge it or walk away.
• When you see someone being belittled because of their race or nationality, say something. Defend that person, or help to remove them from the situation.
• Identifying news sources or media that demonize or devalue people of color, turning them off, and not engaging with them anymore. Connect with Lehi's vision. Mockery and dehumanization based on race is a voice from the great and spacious building, a form of apostasy.
• Talk to your children about being sensitive to people of color and their cultures. Help them to understand what racism is, that it isn't acceptable. (Not using racial slurs, blackface, etc.)
• Change the stories you tell yourself about people of color by seeking out their stories and histories.
• Make space for people of color in whatever spaces you occupy, especially in hobbies.
  
• If a person of color in the church tells you they've experienced racism in the church, believe them. Let them know you value them, want them there. Show them love.

Managing the discussion effectively to be respectful is essential. If there are people of color in the class, prioritize their voices and comments the highest. It doesn't matter when they raised their hand. Go to them first if they have something to share. Prevent others from interrupting them or correcting them when they speak.

Have a video to end the discussion if it becomes derailed. Suggestions here, here, here, and here.

Testimony. Closing Prayer. Done.

Having conversations and lessons about race in the Church doesn't need to be intimidating or hard. They just need to be happening. That's the only way they will ever get any easier.

Exploring Anti-Racism through my Patriarchal Blessing

Fast and testimony meeting hasn't been my jam for a long time. I usually try to find something else to do. Today, I studied my patriarchal blessing.

How does my patriarchal blessing equip me to confront racism in my life and in the Church? That was the question I set out to explore.

Let me tell you, it was like drinking from a fire hose. I could barely keep up with all the thoughts coming into my mind. And there are some of them I'd like to share, because I think they bear repeating.

I can't become the person my Heavenly Parents want me to be if I harbor any kind of racism in my heart. I cannot live with them if I'm unwilling to confront this within myself. Racism resists the Holy Spirit of God. It is the spirit of apostasy and enmity against God and his children. To overcome racism is a commandment. A failure to do so is a violation of every covenant I have made in the Church.

 

I've also come to understand that this is my only way forward in the Church. Staying for me means, out of my own personal necessity, to confront and teach against racism in my community. I cannot silently tolerate racism in my church. I cannot leave it alone, or let it be someone else's problem. I will lose respect for my community and myself if I do this. I cannot stay if I do what some of my brothers and sisters expect me to do.

 

That wasn't my conclusion. That was a warning directly from the Spirit to me. The only way forward for me to stay in the Church is to follow my Savior, to join him in what he is doing to bring anti-racism to the Church.

 

I need to more fully engage in the work of being a real advocate for people of color. I've had many invitations and experiences to prepare me for this, and I've never followed through on them to their logical conclusion. But many of the promises in my blessing depend on that advocacy. I will fall short of my divine potential if I fail. And this will directly affect many people outside of myself.

 

I saw new ways to interpret the promises and gifts I've been given, how they apply to this endeavor. I foresaw opportunities and experiences I've not yet had. I learned new things about myself and my future from asking these questions, and turning to my patriarchal blessing for answers.

 

I'm glad I did this with my patriarchal blessing. I never cease to be amazed at what the Lord can teach me when I ask in faith to be taught.

When Racism is on the Missionaries' Dinner Calendar

We had the missionaries over for dinner last night. We have a Polynesian elder now and it was our first time meeting with him. Because my husband and I both served missions, we both enjoy asking about their work, sharing stories, and getting a sense of how best to support the missionaries in our care.

This elder told us just about the most heartbreaking story of racism I've ever heard.

He went to a dinner appointment with an active family in another area here in Boise.

They greeted his companion, but not him. They refused to shake his hand.

They made him serve up his dinner first. They asked him if he was going to eat more, removed the serving spoon he touched, and got a new one for themselves.

When he asked what was wrong, they said "That was your spoon."

By now, my jaw is on the floor.

"Oh, it gets worse," he warned.

So he got through the meal. They invited his companion to give the message.

The parents, children, and his companion filled up the couch, the loveseat, and the chair in their sitting room. When he offered to grab a chair, they said "that's okay."

So they made him sit on the floor by himself.

"WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE WOULD DO THIS TO YOU?" By now, I'm hollering I'm so mad.

"The Elder's Quorum President," he answered.

* * *

This happened to him about six months ago. The year of our Lord two thousand and seventeen, in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, by one of the leaders serving in a local congregation.

He didn't tell his mission president. And honestly, why would he? I can't envision anything good coming from the sit down between any combination of the mission president, the stake president, the bishop, and the elder's quorum president, and neither could he.

We are not done with racism in the Church.

We have not rooted out this evil from among us.

No child of God should ever be treated like this anywhere, for any reason. Especially not in a church we present to the world as being restored by Jesus Christ himself.

The Best Testimony Meeting I've Ever Been To

I just came from testimony meeting. It was the most powerful experience I've had in sacrament meeting for a long time.

The bishop called out racism from the pulpit and called for divisiveness to cease, for inclusion from all of us. He specifically called for us to stand with those who feel alone, especially when they stand for what is right, regardless of what their political persuasions are. He called out Republicans and Democrats alike for isolating themselves only with those who think like themselves, to be better neighbors to everyone.

The next speaker talked about someone close to him who left the Church because he disagreed with the racial priesthood restriction. He bore his testimony that all wrongs and sufferings will be made right in Jesus Christ.

Another bore his testimony that music has the power to transcend boundaries, how his job has allowed him to meet and understand people from different countries and backgrounds.

I shared my testimony of female leadership, the power and authority they have to make the Church a better place, and how serving in the temple has allowed me to see that.

It was the most welcome at church I have felt in so long. It reminded me why I go, why these are my people, why this is my home.

I can't tell you how badly I needed this, and how much I appreciate the bishop and the ward council for making it happen with the remarks he shared. 

We're better together, and this is what happens when we listen to the Lord and each other. We teach pure doctrine and heal those who are present. By far, the best testimony meeting I've ever been to.

What "Shaking at the Appearance of Sin" Means

I can't sleep because menstruation is terrible. Let's play with complex ideas until I give up on ever sleeping again.

I've always found that last question in 2 Ne 4:31 to be very brave. I've asked it many times in my prayers, and I'm never prepared for the answers I get.

In hindsight, I realize I thought I would be reinforced with a comfortable feeling of superiority over those who didn't keep the commandments. The joy of the moral high ground. I didn't realize I was asking for my heart to shake at ALL sin, with no knowledge of who my teachers would be.

It's one thing to look upon someone who isn't on a level playing field with me, and congratulate myself on my performance for living the commandments. It's another to receive that correction from people on their territory, where I was at the disadvantage.

Twitter has played a very big part in this. 

I would learn about the sins of racism from Saints of color. Learning to shake at racism meant engaging with people I used to avoid.

I would learn to shake at the sin of sexism by engaging with women I once had no respect for. I listened to their stories, and realized I had judged them falsely. 

I would shake at the sin of prejudice by engaging with LGBTQ+ Mormons. The first time I ever spoke to a transgender Mormon was on Twitter.

I prayed to shake at the sight of sin because I thought it meant the sins of other people. I didn't realize I was asking to shake at the sins in my own heart. Racism, sexism, and all forms of prejudice are sins. I didn't realize they were there inside of me. But God did and has given me opportunities to change. My prayers were answered, not in the way I expected, but in the ways I needed most.

Reflecting on this has made me reconsider how I interpret verse 32, and leaves me with questions I can't answer. If shaking at the appearance of sin is about MY sins, and not someone else's, what does it mean to be strict in the plain road?

I realized that my understanding of being strict always seemed to involve correcting, controlling, or avoiding other people whose lives were different than mine. I asked for the blessing of correction, and I got it. I lost respect for the person I used to be. I am now changing myself, with the hope of being able to say one day that I have changed.

My heart grew to love different people. Now I can't bring myself to make anything else about their lives any harder. Especially not their religious lives, which were big enough to include me long before I could do the same. I'm not interested in being the person who aggressively, and with personal knowledge of my own hypocrisy, points out the flaws in my neighbor and threatens them with the view of damnation.

Being strict in the plain road, to me, doesn't mean being exacting or demanding of the people around me anymore. That's not who I want to be. I don't want to see this in myself anymore. The nearest I can come to making sense of it is only being strict with myself. To be consistently true to my own values in all the ways they change and grow. I'm also not interested in the messages of any person who tries to entice me to act in any way that resembles this person. Her behavior is inconsistent with my values. I won't do it anymore.

It's absolutely no coincidence that I'm reading this chapter right now and getting this from Nephi. I'm in a very similar emotional place. For years, he has felt physically, emotionally, and spiritually responsible for leading his older brothers. This is his recognition that it's coming to an end and he can let it go. I feel this same way about breaking with my old ways, and conservative elements in my own faith that want me to continue in it.

I need to make peace with myself about how my conscience is breaking with some in my own faith. I need to let my desires carry me into my work and purpose. It's not my job to live the gospel the way others want me to live it, or to live it for others. I need to be secure enough in my own heart to let God work in it, whatever that looks like.

Whatever goodness springs forth from my heart, God is in it. That's what I learned from Nephi today. And I don't need to concern myself with how other people would do it differently. Their experiences and advice are for them. Mine are for me. And they don't have to be the same for us to both be right.

When there's Racism in Relief Society

I was just released from Young Women after two years. As a result, I went to Relief Society for the first time since the election.

 Holy crap, y'all.

You know when a room with fluorescent lighting has a bulb that is going bad? That constant humming in the background? If someone is there all the time, they don't really hear it. But then you come in and say "Wow, that's really annoying."

That was me today. Only the humming was this weird, angry subtext that I can't really describe. 

Our lesson was President Uchtdorf's talk, Perfect Love Casteth Out All Fear. Letting go of fear about people, accepting differences, and love. And there were several women who were bristling at the very notion of Christ-like love. It showed in their comments and demeanor. One of them, because of past interactions I've had with her, I know is racist and harbors ill will towards anyone who doesn't fit a certain mold. That mold being white, Republican, and permanently plugged into Fox News. And I'm not putting words in her mouth. I've heard her describe herself that way.

The dynamic in that room was off. Uncomfortable. And I took two things away from our lesson. One was the sense of why we're studying President Hinckley this year. His words regarding love, acceptance, and racism are so timely right now. The other is that my return at this time is no accident and I have work to do here. Hard work that may not endear me to some people.

But changing racism is like changing a light bulb. You don't leave it like that because it's easier to sit in the dark, or put up with the sound. We change it because we are children of the light. We did not come to sit in darkness.

The only unique thing that qualifies me to do this is I'm not afraid to open my mouth. I don't care about social consequences. So if it has to be me, let it be me. Racism is not allowed in my backyard.

Prejudice

Prejudice within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints contradicts the teachings of our faith.

How? Let's explore.

Hatred and intolerance does not come from God. It's impossible to justify it without lying about this simple fact.

18 There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.

19 We love him, because he first loved us.

20 If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?

21 And this commandment have we from him, That he who loveth God love his brother also.

1 John 4:18-21

Can you love a person without loving their race and their cultures? Without being willing to share their pew? No.

God also doesn't tolerate prejudice in the leaders of the world, the leaders of the Church, or their families. It's condemned twice in Kirkland Temple dedicatory prayer.

55 Remember the kings, the princes, the nobles, and the great ones of the earth, and all people, and the churches, all the poor, the needy, and afflicted ones of the earth;

56 That their hearts may be softened when thy servants shall go out from thy house, O Jehovah, to bear testimony of thy name; that their prejudices may give way before the truth, and thy people may obtain favor in the sight of all;

68 O Lord, remember thy servant, Joseph Smith, Jun., and all his afflictions and persecutions—how he has covenanted with Jehovah, and vowed to thee, O Mighty God of Jacob—and the commandments which thou hast given unto him, and that he hath sincerely striven to do thy will.

69 Have mercy, O Lord, upon his wife and children, that they may be exalted in thy presence, and preserved by thy fostering hand.

70 Have mercy upon all their immediate connections, that their prejudices may be broken up and swept away as with a flood; that they may be converted and redeemed with Israel, and know that thou art God.

D&C 109:56, 70 (additional verses displayed for context)

God inspires the prophets and servants to pray for all forms of prejudice to be swept from the Earth. 

Why? Because it frustrates God's purposes. That's what makes it wrong.

6 Wherefore, I, Lehi, prophesy according to the workings of the Spirit which is in me, that there shall none come into this land save they shall be brought by the hand of the Lord.

7 Wherefore, this land is consecrated unto him whom he shall bring. And if it so be that they shall serve him according to the commandments which he hath given, it shall be a land of liberty unto them; wherefore, they shall never be brought down into captivity; if so, it shall be because of iniquity; for if iniquity shall abound cursed shall be the land for their sakes, but unto the righteous it shall be blessed forever.

2 Ne 1:6-7

It is not for you to decide who is welcome in any country. The land is not yours, but God's alone to give. Also notice in verse 7 how it says captivity is brought about through iniquity, but doesn't qualify whose iniquity it is. To subjugate people is a form of iniquity that curses the land where it's taking place. Those who engage in that subjugation do not have the promise of being "blessed forever."

22 And behold, ye shall meet together oft; and ye shall not forbid any man from coming unto you when ye shall meet together, but suffer them that they may come unto you and forbid them not;

23 But ye shall pray for them, and shall not cast them out; and if it so be that they come unto you oft ye shall pray for them unto the Father, in my name.

3 Ne 18:22-23

It also is not for you to decide who should or shouldn't be in any congregation in the Church. This is one of the most important lessons that Jesus Christ personally taught during his ministry on earth.

26 Behold, hath he commanded any that they should depart out of the synagogues, or out of the houses of worship? Behold, I say unto you, Nay.

27 Hath he commanded any that they should not partake of his salvation? Behold I say unto you, Nay; but he hath given it free for all men; and he hath commanded his people that they should persuade all men to repentance.

28 Behold, hath the Lord commanded any that they should not partake of his goodness? Behold I say unto you, Nay; but all men are privileged the one like unto the other, and none are forbidden.

32 And again, the Lord God hath commanded that men should not murder; that they should not lie; that they should not steal; that they should not take the name of the Lord their God in vain; that they should not envy; that they should not have malice; that they should not contend one with another; that they should not commit whoredoms; and that they should do none of these things; for whoso doeth them shall perish.

2 Ne 26:26-28, 32

That is what The Book of Mormon teaches. And in verse 32, we are commanded not only to avoid contention, but malice. Promoting the subjugation of people based on race is malicious.

14 For our words will condemn us, yea, all our works will condemn us; we shall not be found spotless; and our thoughts will also condemn us; and in this awful state we shall not dare to look up to our God; and we would fain be glad if we could command the rocks and the mountains to fall upon us to hide us from his presence.

15 But this cannot be; we must come forth and stand before him in his glory, and in his power, and in his might, majesty, and dominion, and acknowledge to our everlasting shame that all his judgments are just; that he is just in all his works, and that he is merciful unto the children of men, and that he has all power to save every man that believeth on his name and bringeth forth fruit meet for repentance.

Alma 12:14-15 

Prejudice is a form of malice in the human heart. And like all forms of  malice those thoughts will be condemned and rejected by God at the last day.