Mormon Conformity

The Mormon Church encourages conformity. Everyone is encouraged to think, dress, groom, and act the same way. Individuality is discouraged, and those who wear too many earrings, or whose opinions may be a bit unorthodox, are often looked down upon and even punished. Mormons who fit this pattern of homogeneity are often referred to as "clones" or "morgbots" by ex-mormons.

I grew up in a ward on the east coast in which most of the members were converts and still retained much of their individuality. My Priests Quorum advisor was a construction manager who used to tell stories of barfights and pranks during his wild and woolly days and
laugh his ass off at our dirty jokes. I haven't seen him for years, but I still think he's one of the coolest people I've ever known. He was genuinely caring, and very tolerant compared to Corridor Mormons.

During my mission, I noticed that all missionaries tend to sound alike. That was partially due to the fact that we taught standardized lessons almost word for word. We didn't just teach the same things though- we used the same words, the same vocal inflections, and the same false humility that we learned from each other. I even caught myself dumbing down my speaking style to be more like the "aw-shucks" Utah and Idaho farm boys I served with. This excessive homogeneity got on my nerves a bit, but I figured it was just the mission environment and that we would all get our personalities back after the mission.

Post-mission, I moved to Utah and attended BYU. There, I noticed that the sameness persists among most returned missionaries. I found this especially annoying among the returned sisters. Far too many of them always sounded like they were talking to 3 year olds. Even as an active believing mormon, I never wanted to marry a girl who had served a mission, because they were all so damn annoying.

In BYU wards, I started to notice how everyone who gave a talk or lesson tried to sound like general authorities, but most of them weren't articulate enough to pull it off, and their effort made them look pretentious and stupid. I loved it when these guys would try to gratuitously use 50 dollar words, but would either use them incorrectly or end up using a word that sounded kind of like the word they meant to use. ("Expand the scriptures" instead of "expound the scriptures," etc.) Very few seemed to have their own style, and very few seemed to have much of a sense of humor, at least at church.

I became the guy in the back of the room trying not to snicker when some pompous general authority-wannabe elders' quorum instructor verbally tripped over his own feet, rolling my eyes when some weepy sister recycled the same tired inspirational story yet again in her sacrament meeting talk, cringing at the uninspiring amateurism displayed in "musical" numbers, and trying like hell to keep my mouth shut when someone preached Pharisaic rules over the spirit of the law.

Eventually, I put the scriptures on my PDA, so I had an excuse to bring it to church and play Solitaire when things got boring or irritating.

Here's the ironic part: As much as I wish I had been smart enough to debunk the church before serving a mission or attending BYU, the time I spent in those environments was probably a critical part of my deconversion. If I had not spent so much time in the belly of the beast, wondering why I couldn't fit in with the clones, and why there were so damned many assinine rules to follow, I might never have thought deeply enough about my beliefs to question them.

Dealing with death as an atheist

I had to deal with the death of close family members while I was young, so I've always been very conscious of death, and the idea of eternity with loved ones was quite appealing to me. It still is. I love the idea of living, learning, and hanging out forever. Sometimes I wish I could still believe in it. That was always the most meaningful aspect of Mormonism for me.

Because I no longer believe in god or the supernatural, I'm living life on the assumption that this is all there is. If I'm wrong, no one will be more pleased than me.

Not believing in an afterlife is a double-edged sword. On one hand, I often feel that life is meaningless and futile, and that nothing I do really matters in the long run. On the other hand, life has become infinitely more precious by virtue of how short and fragile it is.

The Mormon Church takes an apocalyptic view, that the world will get worse and worse until Christ returns, at which time everything will be sorted out and we will all live happily ever after. As a result, many mormons seem to take the attitude that global issues such as poverty, disease, and the environment don't matter, because this life is temporary and God will sort it all out. I no longer have the luxury of believing that. I am looking for ways for my life to be meaningful and have a lasting positive impact on the world. Doing what I can to relieve the suffering of my fellow humans has become more urgent to me than it ever was under Mormonism.

I believe there is no greater tragedy than a life in which relationships, and present enjoyment and happiness are sacrificed in the hope of a glorious afterlife that may or may not exist.

A few milestones from my journey to unbelief

I'm a frequent lurker and occasional poster over at the Recovery From Mormonism discussion boards. A few months back, someone posted the question, "What did you
hear/ learn/ experience that caused you to doubt the church?"

Here's my answer. I've expanded it a bit and changed some of the wording to make sense to a wider audience.

People don't question their religious beliefs until something penetrates their armor and gives them enough of a reason to question that they let down their guard. Evolution was the first of many little things that penetrated my armor.

Hearing my biology professors at Brigham Young University explain evolution by natural selection. This was the first time anyone I trusted had taught me that evolution is real. Anytime I heard about evolution before that, it had been presented as "just a theory," and a devilish doctrine intended to deceive the faithful.

I expected that professors at the "Lord's University" would back that up. Problem is, BYU is an accredited university, and you can't be an accredited university if you don't teach real science in your science classes. So I sat there in the Joseph F Smith auditorium with a thousand other freshmen, and listened while two card-carrying, true-believing Mormon BYU professors explained how evolution works. They even specifically addressed and refuted some of the arguments against evolution that I had grown up with.

Naturally, a lot of us raised our hands, and wanted to know how to reconcile evolution with our creationist upbringing. The professors essentially told us we would have to figure that out ourselves.

Part of the reading assignment for this biology class was a book, "Finding Darwin's God." It is written by a Catholic priest who is also a scientist and has reconciled his belief in evolution with his belief in God. I considered his arguments, and concluded that there was no way I could reconcile the reality of evolution with Mormonism's literal view of the creation story. There are too many pieces that don't fit, and I would have to choose one or the other.

At this point the lightbulb dimly flickered, but I wasn't ready to reconsider my beliefs. I was about as devout as they come, so I put my doubts on the shelf in the back of my mind and forgot about evolution for a while.

Eventually, I began to look closely at my reasons for believing. The Mormon Church teaches that everyone can have an actual revelation from God confirming that the Mormon Church is true. Everyone can "know" for his or her self, independent of any earthly witness. Sounds pretty good, right? Here's how the process works:

1. I was taught that the Mormon Church was God's only true church on earth.
   
2. I was taught that I should pray and ask God to confirm to me that what the church taught was true.
   
3. I was taught that God would answer my prayer through my feelings. Certain feelings, such as peace, or a "burning in the bosom," were supposed to be a revelation from God indicating that the church was true. At this point, I would "know" and could testify that I "knew" the church was true.
4. I was also taught that the process sometimes takes a while. Answers don't come instantly, and they are different for everyone. I was taught that I had to learn to recognize how God spoke to me.
5. I was taught that Satan sometimes imitates the "feelings of the Spirit" and would try to deceive me. I was told that I had to learn to distinguish "promptings of the Spirit" from "promptings of Satan." The way to tell the difference was that if I felt "prompted" to do something contrary to the teachings of the Mormon Church, then it was of Satan. If I felt "prompted" to do something that was in line with the teachings of the Mormon church, then it was of God.
6. I was forbidden to study any alternative points of view, including reading so-called "anti-mormon literature." I was told that "anti-mormon literature" was "spiritual pornography" and would "drive away the Spirit" and put me in Satan's power.
   

In other words, I was told to test the validity of the Mormon Church only by a process specified and approved by the Mormon Church. I was told what my answer would be, how my answer would come, and that if my answer was only right if it jived with Mormon teachings. If I didn't get the right answer, it would be because I was doing it wrong, didn't have enough faith, or was deceived by Satan.

I concluded that claiming to "know" is invalid, because that knowledge depends on the assumption that the church is right about what our feelings mean. I realized that the Mormon claim to certain knowledge is really just another faith-based claim. When a Mormon says "I know such and such is true," he is really saying "I believe God has told me through my feelings that such and such is true." Mormons believe based on faith, just like everyone else- they just think they know. Saying, "I believe" is far more honest than saying, "I know."

I still wasn't willing to read "anti-mormon" literature, because the little bit I had been exposed to during my mission was so full of exaggerations and distortions that it had no credibility with me. Guys like Ed Decker probably ended up keeping me in the church longer by inoculating me against "anti-mormon" arguments. I just figured all anti-mormons were liars, and even the legitimate arguments couldn't get through to me because of that.

Eventually I happened upon "The God Delusion" by Richard Dawkins. I know his belligerent style is off-putting for many people, but much of what he said resonated with me. Dawkins is a biologist, and he does a fantastic job of explaining evolution and scientific theories regarding the origins of life. He also spends a chapter discussing the probability of God's existence. The last tattered shreds of my belief in God evaporated as I read "The God Delusion." Since religion is pointless without something to worship, my belief in the Mormon Church naturally followed.

I'm now an atheist. I do not believe in a supreme being, or an afterlife. I think that man creates god(s) in his image, and religion as a means of controlling people and taking their money.

If there is a supreme being, he, she, or it is quite welcome to bring that to my attention at any time.