Some of the Reasons I Will Always Be a Member of the Church (Just From the Last 90 Days of My Life)

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing

and rightdoing there is a field.

I'll meet you there.

-Rumi

This is MY story. I will get very personal. Be gentle.

In the past few days, I have read comments from people I know and care about (and candidly, some I don't know or care about) regarding Church policies.  Some have said nasty things about people, doctrines, and viewpoints that I cherish.  Everyone had a "hot take" on the subject, a curse of the digital age, I suppose.  Some were well-considered, many were ill-conceived.  I'm not interested in your hot take.  I'm much more interested in your deliberate, thoughtful, and generous take.

So here is mine.

Just from the last 90 days of my life.

A postage stamp-sized sampling of my experience as a devoted member of the Church.  Written in just 90 minutes while I stop billing my clients at an outrageous hourly rate.  My life's experiences have been too rich and varied to discuss in one quick blog post.  For example, I could write two volumes about my experience as a missionary in South Africa and Namibia.  It was powerful, heartbreaking, and ennobling, often all within the same day.  In other words, my African experience was NOTHING like The Book of Mormon musical.  But I digress.

The past 90 days.

Three months ago, I wired money to my dearest black friend in South Africa.  I love and care about him like a brother.  He recently graduated with his MBA, but has been without a job for far too long.  He lost his home.  He lost his car.  He moved back in with his Mother.  He has suffered indignities and difficulties that no well-meaning, faithful individual should have to experience.  I have seen him cling to the Gospel in his hour of need.  I have seen him scrape and claw at the bark, grasping for any hold.  It has been soul-stretching.  There are no easy answers. 

In September, my family spent the night at Shelley’s brother’s home in Las Vegas while on our way to Disneyland.  He is gay, lives with his partner, and works at Chanel in the Wynn.  He knows we do not agree with his lifestyle or some of his choices.  It goes without saying.  But he has full fellowship in our family circle, and he has blessed our life in profound ways.  We love him.  He has a keen eye for blowhards and other sorts of B.S.  He cares about our children and enjoys hearing about their adventures and mishaps.  He often draws upon a deep reservoir of thoughtfulness and service to our benefit.  He is caring in unique ways that others easily overlook.  When his mother was dying of cancer 18 months ago, he cared for her with deep affection and performed small miracles that will resonate forever.

In the morning, his partner already had breakfast going for us: pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, orange juice, you name it.  My kids went swimming in the pool out back.  We talked about the things that people talk about.  Just last week, his partner came by our house in Lehi for a few minutes to see our new poodle.  It sounds stereotypically gay, I know, but it was a lovely moment.

A few weeks after our trip, my five-year old son Evan was brutally sick.  He had been throwing up violently well into the night.  I went into his room after 1:00 a.m. and laid my hands on his head to give him a priesthood blessing.  When I closed my blessing, my eight-year old son Colin, who I thought was sleeping in the other bed, said, “Amen.”  My heart soared.  And Evan slept through the night.

When Shelley and I conjured up a rare fight a few days later, we yelled some things we shouldn’t have.  After seething in my room for an hour, and after Shelley came back from a spin in the minivan, I finally mustered the courage to apologize first.  We held each other.  We loved each other.  She means everything to me.

I am the Executive Secretary in my ward.  I help organize my Bishop's schedule.  In the past month alone, I have seen my Bishop minister to women in the throes of difficult divorces, give spiritual counsel to those dealing with difficult children, provide welfare assistance to the poor, and spend countless hours worrying over, praying over, and assisting our fellow ward members.  Driving back in his truck from a 100-mile bike ride that we enjoyed together, my Bishop accepted a collect call from a ward member who is currently in jail.  He provided comfort and advice to this struggling soul.  In all of this, he has thought very little of himself, and he certainly hasn’t been compensated for his time.  Unless you believe in that treasures in heaven stuff.   

I have seen my good friend Jason (a dentist and our Elders Quorum President) make visit after visit to brothers in our quorum, some disaffected, some even well beyond that point.  He goes the extra mile to ensure that we love them and will meet them wherever they are.  In my recent visit to the family we home teach together, I witnessed the power of the Spirit in their lives.  The husband is not a member of the Church, but he enjoys our visits and we have become friends.  I have seen his confidence and participation in our neighborhood increase.  Maybe he will never join the church.  Or maybe he is simmering in the crockpot waiting for just the right time.  Either way, we will love him. 

Just last Sunday, I listened to a 77 year-old woman give a beautiful talk on forgiveness.  Her husband had walked out on her and her five children more than 25 years ago.  She spoke about her long journey to find healing.  She found it through the grace of the Atonement.  In recent years, her grandchildren have been peppering her with questions about their grandfather.  They want to know what he was like.  They want to know his story.  Consequently, this dear, gray-haired sister has decided to write his personal history.  He has no other family to do it.  She decided that only she was fit to write his story, and she could do it with the measured compassion that she has found from the Lord.

Finally, it gets real personal.  Shelley and I have been struggling over whether to have our fifth and final child.  We have had many things to consider, not the least of which is the physical, emotional, and spiritual toll on Shelley from another pregnancy and newborn.  Her devotion to her role as a wife and mother, and her sacrifices to create our beautiful children that we love without measure, has been one of the most awe-inspiring things I have seen.  Messy, difficult, heartrending, and glorious.

So on November 1st, on what we call Fast Sunday, I fasted and prayed to know the mind and will of the Lord.  Should we have another baby?  Is it right for Shelley?  Is it right for us?  I pleaded to hear the voice of God in my life.  If I ever wanted a divine answer, this was the time.  It was too important.  And I let the Lord know that in no uncertain terms.

After attending Bishopric and sacrament meetings, and after running Caroline home for her nap, I found myself sitting on the hard metallic chairs in the cultural hall listening to our Elders Quorum instructor.  My mind was drifting somewhere else.  My heart was silently searching.  Right then and there, I experienced one of my most powerful encounters with the Holy Ghost.  It consumed me.  My heart and mind overflowed with love and knowledge.  I heard the Lord in his all-encompassing way:  Darren, it is a good thing.

So there it is.  Just the past 90 days.

In all of these experiences – and I mean all of them – my interactions have been shaped and formed by my deep and abiding faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.  My choices are often derived from His living waters and the natural way they flow to my heart, body, and mind.  I believe in God and His Holy Son.  I believe I lived before I was born.  I believe I will live after death.  We are eternal beings with eternal destinies.  I also believe that God restored his kingdom one final time before He winds things up.  He dispensed his keys to the prophets.  They are his faithful custodians.  Though fallible, indeed, the “weak things” of the world as God would have it, they are overwhelmingly good, caring, and Christ-centered.

We are asked by the prophets to align ourselves with Christ's commandments.  His commandments will lead us to happiness and away from estrangement.  To the woman caught in adultery, Christ condemned her sin without condemning her forever: "Go, and sin no more," He said (John 8:3-11).  So it goes for each of us.  To deny our power to change and conform our lives with His ways - aided by the ennobling power of his grace - is to deny the very power of the Atonement, that infinite act of love and mediation that underpins the entire cosmos.

Given these realities, in my view, whether I agree with a given policy is really beside the point, although I am empathetic to those who have a difficult time seeing its intended wisdom or may be impacted by its short-term parameters.  Even if it proves to be a misstep (and I do not believe that will be the case), it is certainly “no reason to reject the Restoration, with its glorious promises of hope beyond the grave, eternal family unions, and full, exalted fellowships with the Gods.”  I know too much.  I have seen too much.  I have had the fleshy tablets of my heart shaped and reshaped over and over again.

There is a field.

Will you meet meet me there, too, since you have been asking for the same consideration?  We may ultimately disagree on the ordering of the Universe and the right way to order our lives.  But we can embrace nonetheless.