As I mentioned recently, I have been feeling the need to be more direct and honest with people. This is a big challenge for me. When I contemplate why it so difficult to assert myself, I have to acknowledge that in addition to my personality and upbringing, the culture of the Church has a lot to do with it.

Over the past several years, I have noticed something pathological and predatory in the culture of our religion. Such a description might seem a bit harsh or extreme, but it is not inaccurate. The question that I have wrestled with more recently is whether or not this pathology is a deal breaker. Can I stay in the Church and retain my sanity? Can the situation be fixed? In this post, I will outline a path to healing.

Pinpointing the precise nature of the problem has been tricky for me, but now I am able to put my finger on it. I would characterize it as cultural codependency. The dominant feature of this illness is an underdeveloped sense of self. Many members of the Church do not feel free to acknowledge or express their inner thoughts, feelings, and observations. As a result, they are emotionally repressed.

Nearly twenty years ago, I went through a faith crisis while serving on my mission. I learned firsthand that those who express doubts tend to encounter responses that are unsympathetic and unhelpful. I was severely depressed and wanted to go home almost every single day, but somehow I managed to endure. To this day, I sometimes wonder why I stayed. I think it’s because deep down I was holding out hope that things could get better. I was concerned that if I gave up prematurely, I might miss out on a potential reward.

Now, I find myself struggling with a very different problem. My testimony is beyond doubt, but I am concerned that the Church has become far too restrictive and dogmatic when it comes to what members are allowed to believe. I have swung from the extreme of believing too little to the extreme of believing too much. But even though my present situation is very different from the dilemma I faced as a missionary, the circumstances seem oddly familiar.

What I have realized is that the question of what I believe is not really the issue. The problem is that I have not felt free to have my own thoughts and make my own observations, especially when those observations seem to contradict the mainstream dogmas of the Church.

On my mission, I couldn’t make a determination on whether or not the gospel was true. I didn’t want to dismiss the possibility that it could be true, but I also wanted to be honest with myself. I tried to plant the seed, as Alma suggested, but I was not yet seeing any results. In the meantime, I had the feeling that my peers were impatient with me and wanted this process to hurry along so that I wouldn’t be such a hindrance to the work.

Why does a faith crisis have to be such a traumatic event? If gaining a testimony is something that everyone goes through, why does this normal rite of passage shatter the mental health of so many of our members? A fairly straightforward process is made unnecessarily complicated because those who do not have a strong testimony feel guilty about acknowledging their doubts. As a result, those gnawing thoughts keep building up until they become overpowering.

In recent years, we have seen an increase in the number of people who openly acknowledge their disbelief. But I want to point out that these expressions of doubt generally occur outside of our meetinghouses. Members usually get online and find support on the Internet. There is an unspoken, unacknowledged assumption shared by both believers and non-believers, which is that if you take a dissenting position, you must separate yourself from the main body of the Church. The same is true for apostates who believe in Joseph Smith but reject the current leadership. Remember that the problem I am describing has little to do with the substance of what is believed or not believed. Rather, it has to do with the feeling that personal beliefs which challenge the status quo cannot be expressed openly.

Expressing criticism or dissent can only serve two, mutually exclusive purposes. One purpose would be to justify severing a relationship. This is when you say, “I hate you and these are all the reasons why.” The other purpose would be to prevent a schism from destroying a relationship. Sometimes when you love someone, you have to bring up something unpleasant, because if you don’t, you know that it will eat you up inside.

These differing motivations use criticism in different ways. When a person desires to end a relationship, they tend to direct their complaints to those who are sympathetic to their cause. This is a form of confirmation bias. Sometimes they will confront their opponent in a brash and demanding way, with the expectation that this will provoke a backlash. For example, when Jeremy Runnells wrote the CES Letter, I doubt that he was expecting to receive answers to all the issues that he raised. In contrast, those who want to salvage the relationship will broach the topic directly with a spirit of meekness.

In a marriage, differences of opinion are unavoidable. But when problems occur, the commitment that husband and wife have made to each other keep them from breaking up immediately. Their vows give them a chance to talk things over and work things out. Nowadays, however, the emergence of preference bubbles has made us quicker to sever ties, and we only associate with our ideological allies. It’s getting harder to disagree and remain friends.

Because there is no real outlet for personal views or alternative ideas within the structure of our wards and stakes, we feel the need to congregate elsewhere, in groups that are bound by common interest rather than covenant or social obligation. Even this blog could be considered a preference bubble. I am concerned that the people who read my articles already agree with me, while the people who really need this message will never hear it.

I don’t think everyone in the Church is emotionally repressed, but I’m quite certain that I’m not the only one who has struggled with this problem. Many of the people who quit the faith report a feeling of release. They are finally able to give voice to everything that has been bottled up inside. When suppression becomes a long-term habit, it can be difficult to summon personal thoughts or desires. Even now, I have to work very hard to think of what I like or what I would want for myself. I have become accustomed to denying myself and letting other people tell me who I am.

The tendency to suppress one’s personal inclinations is not just a cultural quirk. It is part of the doctrine. We have been taught that we must submit our will to God. We sing, “I’ll go where you want me to go. I’ll be who you want me to be.” But without a sense of self, it is easy to become tired and worn out. We feel like we can never say no when asked to do something. Without a recognition of the problem, we might find ourselves thinking, “I’m doing everything that I’m supposed to, but for some reason, I’m just not happy.” Because of the social pressure to keep up appearances, we do not admit to our peers that we just want a break.

I don’t want to sound unnecessarily harsh, but the culture of the Latter-day Saints is comparable, in many ways, to that of a totalitarian regime. The outpouring of emotion during testimony meetings is not unlike the hysterical weeping that we see in North Korea. In both cases, the intensity of zeal is interpreted as a gauge of devotion. Just as authoritarian governments seek to control the flow of information and discredit the media, church culture encourages us to study only from trusted sources and avoid reading critical material. The Church’s media arm, like a propaganda outlet, has tended to present a perpetually positive view of the kingdom, while papering over unflattering topics. The threat of punishment by disciplinary councils keeps dissidents from speaking out.

Emphasis is placed on the simplicity of the doctrine, and intellectualism is generally avoided in our Sunday meetings. This has the effect of discouraging critical thinking. There are intellectuals and scholars in the Church, but I have noticed that there is a tendency to use intellect to justify preconceptions rather than make impartial observations. An example that I wrote about recently is the book of Abraham. Why do some scholars insist that we do not have the source material for Joseph Smith’s translation? It is plainly evident to me that we do. Anyone who looks at the Kirtland Egyptian Papers can see this. Mainstream apologists reject this idea because it makes it harder to explain how Joseph could have been inspired.

In addition to the problems I have already described, cultural codependency affects our psychology in other subtle but significant ways. As I explained in my previous post, a vital component of emotional self-reliance is the principle of acceptance. I have learned that it is impossible to apply this principle without having personal boundaries and a sense of self. It’s like trying to pour water into a broken glass. As a result, the affected person is unable to find relief from inner suffering, and they focus their efforts exclusively on the other side of the dialectic: action.

The net effect is that those who are codependent are a threat to others without realizing it. Instead of being satisfied with their own life, they have an insatiable need to be a caretaker for others. This compulsive urge to serve is extremely selfish. Those affected seek to coerce the people they know into being helpless and needy. They accommodate and even magnify others’ weaknesses so that they can feel helpful. They mold their victims’ personalities by praising certain behaviors while ignoring others, and they proactively define who others are instead of letting them define themselves. This causes victims to also become codependent, because they lose their sense of self, and the disease continues on its rampage.

So what happens at church is that members are constantly busy serving, but all this effort is not as effective as it should be. That’s because those performing the service do not really respect the people they serve. They are like automatons who, despite their congenial demeanor, only want to stamp out the individuality of their targets and thus create more automatons. Measures of ministering success tend to be selfish and outcome-oriented, for example: “Are the people I serve coming to church every Sunday, attending the temple, and bearing weepy testimonies?” Those who have needs but outwardly appear to be living the gospel are likely to be ignored.

Latter-day Saints love to serve, but they tend to serve on their own terms. For example, I have found that members are more than willing to bring me a plate of brownies, but they are unwilling to have a discussion with me about things that I am interested in, such as what I write about on this blog. This lets me know that they don’t respect me, despite the gestures.

We might assume that they just don’t want to pry or get too personal, but in my observation, the opposite is true. I have noticed that members derive perverse satisfaction from knowing the intimate details of others. It is a sick form of voyeurism. This is why I feel very uncomfortable with the idea of going to my priesthood leaders to seek counsel. The codependent mind desires to prey on others’ vulnerability. So those who are insecure or timid tend to be embraced, while those who seem overly independent are treated with cold indifference. On this blog, I have observed that I get the biggest reaction when my writing is emotionally raw. When I am feeling frustrated, everyone wants the pleasure of being the one that I open up to.

I can understand now why women feel used when they are valued for their appearance rather than their ideas. They don’t want to be boxed into a receptive role. Codependent relationships are always imbalanced. The perpetrator seeks to maintain the dominant position by magnifying others’ vulnerabilities while concealing their own weaknesses. When an entire group is made up of codependent people, everyone feels like they are competing with each other to prove their usefulness. This causes individuals to conceal their inner struggles, because they know intuitively that if they open up, they will get pounced on and abused.

Codependency is threatened by individuality. So those affected employ gaslighting in order to keep others passive and submissive. In the Church, when a person has a doubt about something, they are encouraged to question themselves instead of trusting in what they observe. Members who don’t feel happy ask themselves, “What am I doing wrong?” If someone is offended, the burden always rests on that individual to forgive, and very little emphasis is placed on not causing offense.

Thus far, I have painted a rather damning picture. So why don’t I leave? I probably would, if it were not for my testimony. I know with certainty that Joseph Smith was a prophet and that the Book of Mormon is true. I also see inspiration coming from the current leadership, in spite of their obvious flaws. Latter-day Saints generally have good hearts; they are just unaware of the disease that grips them. So it seems like the best course of action is to try to fix things, rather than abandon the relationship.

But fixing things is no easy task, because the problem is hardwired in the theology and structure of the Church. Traditionalists tend to be extremely wary of anyone who desires to change the Church from the inside, and they argue that a member’s role is to take counsel, not give it. They’ve got a point. The Church is not a democracy; it is a top-down hierarchy. Priesthood leaders do not take orders; they give them. So if our culture feels like a totalitarian regime, that’s because it basically is. The only real difference is that we honor moral agency. Still, just as Alma desired to be an angel in order to compel his listeners into submission, we sometimes sin by viewing free will as an annoying obstacle.

Is missionary work a program for bringing people under God’s dominion? Are we trying to establish a theocracy? Is democracy a mere stepping stone? When I apply my intuition and trust in myself, I can see that the answer to these questions is no.

Since the beginning of the restoration, we, the members of the Church, have been building something by diligently following the blueprints that we have been given. Everyone is saying that it’s a horse-drawn carriage, and they intend to use it that way. But I have eyes, and I am able to make my own observations. It is plain to me that what we have been building is not a carriage, but an automobile. All we have to do is put gas in the tank and start the engine.

I have given considerable thought to how Zion, the ideal society, will be structured and governed. I know that Zion is not an autocracy. It is a self-governing cooperative. Despite the top-down directionality of power in the Church, I can see that the structures which have been established are actually designed for something else. The priesthood is a hierarchy of equality. At first we take orders, but when we show loyalty to our master, he makes us his equal.

Another way to picture it is to think of the relationship between parents and children. It is the duty of the parents to teach their children, mold them into people of good character, and guide them with a firm hand. It is inappropriate for children to tell their parents what to do. But the ultimate goal of parenting is to help the children become self-reliant. Once they are grown, the relationship changes. Everyone is equal now and free to make their own choices.

Daniel 7 makes it abundantly clear that God’s endgame involves giving governing power to the Saints.

v. 18: But the saints of the most High shall take the kingdom, and possess the kingdom for ever, even for ever and ever. v. 22: Until the Ancient of days came, and judgment was given to the saints of the most High; and the time came that the saints possessed the kingdom. v. 27: And the kingdom and dominion, and the greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall be given to the people of the saints of the most High, whose kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and all dominions shall serve and obey him.

It might seem like a contradiction to say that we, the Saints, serve and obey only God, and that we are also self-governing. But this contradiction is resolved when we understand that we are God. We, collectively, are the Elohim, and we always have been. Theosis is not something that will happen a million years from now. We are gods at this very moment.

In order to establish Zion, we must learn how to be self-governing. It is critical that we understand the broader meaning of the word agency, which I described in my article entitled “Judgment Day and the Scapegoat Conundrum.” We must learn how to reconcile individual interest with collective interest. Both extremes must be allowed to exist simultaneously.

Cooperative organizations tend to be misunderstood by people on both sides of the political aisle. Some see democratic governance as being impractical and inefficient, especially when it comes to running a business. Others assume that in a democratically-controlled organization, there are no bosses or leaders giving orders. Neither viewpoint is correct.

When people try to work together, it is inevitable that there will be differences of opinion. It is not practical to hold a vote on every single item of business. Leaders are necessary. So in a cooperative business, the members elect the board, and the board appoints managers. Managers have the right to tell people what to do, and members are obligated to obey them. But the managers ultimately answer to the people they lead. In this way, power flows both directions.

As I have written many times before, the unity of opposites is at the core of God’s plan. When interests are at odds with each other, this necessarily creates a struggle or conflict. We need this conflict. It is the means by which we progress. The social structure in God’s kingdom is set up in such a way that it contains this conflict and keeps opposing forces bound together.

Opposites do not attract; they repel each other. So there must be a way to counteract this repulsion. This is the entire purpose of covenants. We bind ourselves together into a unit in order to contain the dialectical struggle. This struggle could be compared to rubbing sticks together to make fire. Fire is useful when kept within certain bounds. But when it goes beyond those bounds, it can become destructive.

The first dialectical progression occurs within the individual. We each do our best to remain spiritually and emotionally self-reliant by reconciling acceptance with action, but we do not always succeed. At times, we need someone to lean on, and that’s where our spouse comes in. Marriage between a man and a woman is the next level. The covenant between husband and wife holds them together so that despite their differences, they have the opportunity to perfect themselves and become one. The couple becomes the thesis in a new progression when children enter the picture. At every level, there are two sides that must work together—one active and the other receptive—and neither is superior to the other. Expanding beyond the family, we have wards and stakes. Leaders are drawn from among the membership. Members do not get to choose who is in their ward. For better or worse, everyone is bound together like a family, and differences must be worked out.

So the whole program is a system containment hierarchy. Within the whole are parts, and parts within parts. Each component is a self-contained unit. Power originates from the individual and is delegated upward to larger and larger containment structures. When we sustain leaders, instead of seeing this as a process of accepting someone who has been externally imposed, it might be more accurate to compare leaders to elected representatives in a democratic republic. We are delegating authority to them and choosing to let them tell us what to do.

With a more enlightened understanding of God’s intentions, we are no longer forced to choose between two equally undesirable options. The assumption shared by both loyalists and critics of the Church is that we must either respect and submit to the authority of our leaders, or else separate ourselves from the body of the Saints. What I am suggesting is that there is a middle road, and we must find it.

When we walk the middle road, we do not allow personal differences to jeopardize the relationship. We recognize and assert that our individual beliefs and observations have as much validity as that of the group. At the same time, we concede that in the interest of preserving unity and preventing unnecessary schisms, leaders have the authority to establish policies and standardize doctrines.

For example, my study of the scriptures, along with personal revelation, may inform me that certain doctrines are more complicated than what is taught at church. I assert that I have the right to believe what I want to. I am allowed to hold fast to what I know. I do not need to keep these things a secret, and I should not doubt myself. However, I accept the fact that teaching alternative doctrines could create a preference bubble within the Church which would have to be cut off. So I must be judicious in how I teach.

What I’m getting at is that in order to solve the problem of cultural codependency, we must learn to assert ourselves, and there is a right way to do this. Rosa Parks didn’t pick a fight with her oppressors, telling them how awful they were. She just sat at the front of the bus and refused to budge, respectfully claiming the privilege that was rightfully hers. This drew attention to the imbalance of power, making it possible for blacks and whites to move closer to an equal relationship.

We could resign ourselves to blind obedience and bury our sense of self. But this would make us suffer inside and render our service useless. Or we could take the Marxist approach and resist the spiritual bourgeoisie. But this would only lead to a separation, which would rob us of the opportunity to learn from others. The right approach is to assertively claim our privilege, while allowing others to also claim theirs. Hmmm, that sounds familiar.

We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may.

It’s time for us to leave the kids’ table and take our place among the grown-ups. I am quite certain that this is what President Nelson wants for us. Unity cannot be achieved by sticking to a particular tribe. We must be self-reliant. It’s been drilled into our heads that we need to follow the prophet, but now our prophet is telling us that we need personal revelation. He’s made it clear that the revelation we receive as individuals is not just a perk. We will not be able to spiritually survive without it.

In summary, we need to learn to be honest with ourselves and with each other. Doing so might feel uncomfortable, but it will benefit everyone. We also need to make it clear that the grievances we bring up do not have to be deal breakers.