by Elizabeth Pinborough

Elizabeth Pinborough is a freelance writer and editor. Her work has appeared in Dialogue, Fire in the Pasture: Twenty-first Century Mormon Poets, and Wilderness Interface Zone. 

I learned about The God Who Weeps when I was invited to a blogger Q&A with Terryl and Fiona Givens at Deseret Book in Salt Lake City about a month ago. I quickly picked the book up, reading half of it, along with Ben Parks’ and Jacob’s and Julie Smith’s initial reviews, before the event. The God Who Weeps is a beautiful little book. Aside from its comparatively slim 148 pages, there is nothing remotely little about it. It is impressive in its scope and literariness. Its prose is sparsely elegant and accessible. And it is lovingly written. Most of all, though, the book is beautiful in what it aspires to do. The Givenses said that they wrote the book out of respect for the “sanctity of doubt”: that is, for real faith to exist, both reasonable grounds to believe and reasonable grounds to disbelieve must exist. Within the “context of reasonable doubt” the Givenses created their book with strugglers in mind, the number of young people who are leaving the church perhaps because they do not understand the principles of Mormon doctrine. The book functions as an extended and heartfelt letter to a doubter and “a prose hymn to the reasonable gospel that Joseph Smith articulated.”

I never saw a moor;
I never saw the sea,
Yet know I how the heather looks
And what a billow be.

I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven.
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the checks were given.

Emily Dickinson

I figure there are two approaches to this lesson. 1) you can tell the faith-affirming stories of George Albert Smith and ask your class for their own stories of faith and how it has grown. If you choose this approach, I hope you’ll consider reading or summarizing Emma Lou Thayne’s magnificent essay, “Seeing Without Seeing.” I cry every time I read it, starting with “Someone asked her [Helen Keller], “Do you see colors?”,

Talking about immortality and eternal life necessarily requires discussion of mortality and death, which can be hard to talk about, especially in front of a large audience.  I think it would be easier for the women of my large Relief Society class to have this discussion in small groups, so I am going to ask them to divide into groups of about six people.  Each person in the group will receive one of these quotes and its accompanying discussion questions to share with the rest of their group.

I’ve seen this question posed multiple times in the threads and forums of Mormondom. I’ve had friends who have run into this question in their families and wards.

And it’s heartbreaking. It is never ok to question someone’s testimony. That is bullying. It’s why this and so many Bloggernacle blogs have a policy against such accusations and similar questions. On the receiving end, it makes the person feel disposable: “That Zion we learn about at church? Don’t want you there.” “That eternal family thing? Yeah, doesn’t apply to this relationship. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

It’s devastating.

I’ve read many great responses to this question. Some will say that they have no issues with doctrine, just policy. Some shelve the tough topics. Some call upon history, “If everyone fighting for suffrage decided to leave, where would women be today?” Some call on the fact that life is complicated: some people set aside differences for the sake of family, friends, or occupation, or whatever else. We all have priorities and we don’t get to judge another’s.

But it has been my experience that responding with these doesn’t always work. You can explain your testimony until you’re blue in the face and you’ll still be written off. And I think that’s because both parties are overlooking one of the most debilitating parts of the question.

In asking, “Why don’t you just leave?” the asker is admitting, on some level, that if they had the same testimony struggles, if they had the same experiences, they would leave. Peel away the anger of “If you have all these problems with the Church, why don’t you just leave?” and you may find the scary answer, “I would have left already if I were you.”

Anger is a defensive emotion, used to hide hurt, shame, fear, guilt, and vulnerability.

What can we do on the receiving end? Deep breaths. Since it’s not actually about you,  you can kindly try focusing it back, “Hmm. Would you?” But,  ”That’s not an option for me right now,” might be all you can do. Smile and keep on going. And breathe some more. Your own emotions are tricky, and dealing with someone else’s is trickier. Relationships are hard; they don’t always survive.

But know it’s ok to be on that edge. I wish there was something definitive that I could say and promise that it’ll work out or even promise that it won’t so you can move on. Some people will actually show you the door. Sometimes time heals all wounds. And if there’s anything I know about life, it’s that things will change.

Oh and, why don’t I leave? Well, God told me to stay. Take it up with Her.

“Warn them that they will encounter people who pick which commandments they will keep and ignore others that they choose to break,” Elder Nelson taught last April.

So in an attempt to keep every commandment from our leaders, I’ll do just that: you are going to encounter people who pick which commandments they will keep and ignore others that they choose to break. In fact, those “people” aren’t a faceless, amorphous blob. They are you.