KAREN QUINCY LOBERG/THE STAR Dane Rowley (from left), Stephanie Sullivan, Lisa Loberg and the Rev. Howard Wennes greet each other at a Thursday service at California Lutheran University where they work in Thousand Oaks. Rowley says that his incongruity with some of the Mormon beliefs has caused him deep sadness, and he's contemplating stepping away.

SHARE KAREN QUINCY LOBERG/THE STAR Dane Rowley, a multigenerational Mormon, sings from the hymnal at a service at California Lutheran University where he works in Thousand Oaks. KAREN QUINCY LOBERG/THE STAR Dane Rowley (from left), Stephanie Sullivan and Lisa Loberg attend a service at California Lutheran University where they work in Thousand Oaks. KAREN QUINCY LOBERG/THE STAR Colleen McCarthy (front left) and Dane Rowley share photographs after a Thursday service at California Lutheran University in Thousand Oaks. Rowley is a multigenerational Mormon who is considering stepping away from the church. KAREN QUINCY LOBERG/THE STAR Dane Rowley, a multigenerational Mormon, attends a church service at California Lutheran University where he works in Thousand Oaks.

By Jean Moore of the Ventura County Star

It's been a painful journey for Dane Rowley.

Rowley, the husband and son of Mormons, is slowly separating from the church he grew up in and still loves.

Rowley took a leap in that journey last November when the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints announced a new policy: the children of gay parents would no longer be baptized in the church until they were 18 — and then only if they disavowed their parents' relationship and moved out of their home.

In November, Rowley wrote a letter to his church leaders, politely telling them he disagreed with the policy and asking to work together to help those who might be hurt by it. He noted his long service in the church and offered to counsel teenagers and young adults who could be at risk for depression, addiction or suicide. He also offered to lead discussions for their families and workshops for church leaders working with teens.

"It gives me no pleasure to state my disagreement with current church practice and teaching related to LGBT individuals, couples, families and especially their children," Rowley said in his letter about lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender persons. "If I could stay silent or simply ride it all out, and still maintain my integrity, I would to it. But I cannot."

Rowley was called in to meet with his bishop and two other church leaders. He hoped for a conversation. He was met with hostility.

"It came down to this: If I wanted to be a member, they required me to be silent about any disagreements," Rowley said.

If he wasn't silent, he was told, he could be called into a disciplinary council and excommunicated.

"It's an incredible taboo to speak out against the church," said Rowley, 37, a Moorpark resident, father of two sons, and director of international admission at California Lutheran University in Thousand Oaks. "Knowing that's the culture, though, I thought, 'Who else is going to do that, to say it's not unanimous?' I wanted to be on record that I was speaking up against this."

That letter was a turning point for Rowley, who up to that point had been a devout member of the church, even working to pass Proposition 8, which banned same-sex marriage in California when voters passed it in 2008.

A fork in the road

But looking back now, Rowley can see that he took the first steps in his journey when he was just 19 and serving his mission trip in Japan.

On that trip, Rowley started to broaden his world view.

"My travels have influenced my perception of my own faith and spirituality," he said. "I had been living in very devout ways. I started to have a more nuanced understanding of faith."

When he returned to the U.S. and started college at Brigham Young University, Rowley immediately wanted to leave again, to study abroad and explore the world some more. He wanted to go to Jerusalem but ended up in London, arriving just two weeks before the 9/11 attacks.

He was taking a comparative religions class, and he and his classmates visited a mosque shortly after the attacks. Everyone was nervous, he said.

"But there was so much love, so much kindness," Rowley said. "It felt like a fork for me in how I viewed the world."

Instead of seeing the world as the enemy, he said, he chose to work with other faiths, trying to promote understanding.

He pursued that interfaith work when he came to CLU, where he finished his undergraduate studies, then started working in the admission department.

"Schools like CLU ... can engage in deep dialogue about issues of faith," Rowley said. "Public schools are a little more hamstrung."

Rowley's work recruiting students from around the world, primarily in Asia, also has shaped his world view.

"I feel like international education is a doorway for greater peace, understanding and sense of kinship in the world," he said. "That's needed now more than ever."

But it was a trip to Germany last year with CLU colleagues that proved to be a tipping point. On that trip, he learned more about Martin Luther and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a Lutheran minister who opposed the Nazis.

"I came back and thought, 'My silence about these things is just not acceptable anymore," Rowley said.

Speaking out

Rowley first spoke out publicly a year ago, when church leaders announced they would continue to oppose same-sex marriage, though the Supreme Court had recently upheld it.

Rowley wrote an opinion piece in the Salt Lake Tribune, publicly asking church leaders to be careful when they delivered the news to young members. Their tone would make a huge difference in how teenagers felt about themselves and could help prevent depression, homelessness and suicides, he said in the piece.

Then, in November, he wrote the first letter to his church leaders. In February, after several meetings with his bishop, he sent an email saying he and his wife had decided to step away from the church. They weren't sure, he said, if the move would be temporary or permanent. He asked that the church not contact him.

"I felt like it's important to speak up more," he said.

"I want to raise our kids to stand up for what's right."

Rowley's journey has been hard for his family, whose roots go back to the beginning of the church, and he understands that they're hurting. His dad is serving as a bishop, which further complicates the situation, he said.

"A lot of (their response) has been absolute silence, and that's pretty deafening," Rowley said. "So much of the church's theology is tied into family. ... When I criticize the church, it feels like I'm criticizing them."

Stepping away

The Mormon church is not saying how many members have resigned since the policy was announced, and spokesman Eric Hawkins declined to be interviewed for this story, sending an email statement instead.

"We don't want to see anyone leave the Church, especially people who have been struggling with any aspect of their life," Hawkins said in the statement. "The Church exists to build people and help them heal, and there isn't one of us who doesn't need help at some point in our lives. ... It's extremely important that our members read what leaders have said, and do not rely on other sources or interpretations or what people think they have said."

Rowley's interfaith community at CLU has stood by him as he's gone through his gradual separation from the church, he said.

"I've lost a huge part of my community," he said. "I feel like I'm not welcome in my tribe anymore."

But so far, Rowley still has not completely left the church.

"I came to realize that I would rather step away, somewhat as a friend of the church, than to be kicked out as an enemy," Rowley said. "I still struggle with that. I still haven't formally resigned."