A Child Is Born In Bukavu : a Christmas message - by mormongandhi

A child is born in Bukavu, and sadness fills his mother’s heart... Bukavu is not the city of David. It is a town in the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of Congo. War has been ravaging the country for years. Ever since Kabila invaded the former Zaire with military support from the US. It is a war that no one speaks of – but it has cost the lives of millions of people and caused unimaginable suffering.

The child’s mother is a young girl, a daughter of the area. This young girl is named Maria. Maria was a girl like most any other girl in her town. She walked miles for water, she helped her mother with the cooking and she also tilled the land. She learnt how to read in primary school, but ever since the war her parents no longer could afford to pay her school fees. Maria was a believer in the Christian gospel – and went like all other young girls her age to church on Sunday.

Church was a mud hut with a roof made out of straw. There on Sundays, the kids would gather to learn about God. The preacher, an older man with glasses and graying hair, would always talk about God’s love for humanity – and that God once, long time ago, had come to the world as a male child to save humanity. In church, she had also learned some words of English. She knew that when you greeted someone, you had to say: “Good morning, class."

The morning breaks

That was then. Prior to the attacks... One day, as the morning broke and shadows gathered, foreign soldiers drove into town. The houses were set on fire. The adults were gathered on the square and the older men were executed one by one. This is how Maria lost her father – and she and her mother witnessed it. The soldiers held their heads for them to watch. Maria was afraid. After having seen the murder of her father, they also separated her from her mother. She was chosen from among the young girls to follow a group of soldiers. One of them stripped her of her clothes and forced himself on her – he, subject to the commanders’ orders.

Now she held this young child in her arms. Her heart was filled with sadness, and she knew that her firstborn child would have given her joy under other circumstances. Some months after the soldiers left, Maria was chased away. The villagers who were left behind were ashamed of her and of the other girls who had become pregnant. These girls were a constant reminder of the day when the men in the village had been powerless – confronted with the threat and the fear of a gun. “Do not ever come back”, were the last words she heard as she was running for her life into the deep woods.

Maria sings to her little child a song she learned many years ago: “Lullaby, lullaby, my little one. Lullaby, my child so dear. Thy precious life has just begun. Thy mother holds thee near”. And yet, she knows the words do not ring true. True, all life is precious. But not one soul will ever value the life of this child. Born of a violent union, unwanted by his mother, into a world where people willingly march to the sound of guns. What future can she promise him? What life can this child possibly hope to have? Even though she loves him, he is a constant reminder of what happened to her, and like the villagers who once chased her away she cannot find peace when she looks into his eyes.

Its ranks are filled with soldiers, united, bold and strong...

Victory, victory... The guys were singing and shouting, drunken by their thirst for blood and proud of their conquest. Bukavu had been encircled, trapped, taken, raped and ravaged. The soldiers executed the orders of their commander and had in turn executed the elders of Bukavu – one by one. Herodes was the commander’s name. His boys feared him.

They were now men. They had proven it – to themselves and to him who had led them into victory. Joseph, one of the soldiers, the one who raped Maria, was nonetheless feeling some unease. In following orders, Joseph had forced himself upon this young girl. The others had told him that having sex with a virgin was going to save him from the disease that was making him weak, this pandemic they called AIDS. But more importantly, the others respected him now. He had become one of them: their partner in crime.

You are the man! We saw you, Joseph. You did it. You made her cry – you and your gun. You made her scream. The words were both making him feel proud and good about himself, but for one reason, unknown to him, they were also haunting him. Could he look at a woman again without thinking of the pain he had caused to this young girl – whose name he would never know? In order to survive – either you dominate or you are dominated, Herodes used to say. To rule, you have to systematically brake down the bonds that bind communities together. They need to fear you or fear will overtake you...

I am trying to be like Jesus

War does not bring out the best in us – it brings out the worst in us. True, some acts are acts of courage – but aren’t those heroic acts always associated with saving lives, and not with taking them? Fear begets fear. It is the opposite of love. Misery begets misery. It is the opposite of joy. Violence begets violence. It is the opposite of peace.

The nativity story told the world of a little baby boy, born to Mary, a girl chosen among other girls to be the mother of a Savior, rejected by men and yet, many are they who believe he is their safe ticket to heaven. The story from Bukavu is the story of a little baby boy, born to Maria, a girl chosen among other girls to be the victim of a soldier, so he could gain accept in the eyes of his comrades, so he could become a man, taking by force what he believed was a safe ticket to health.

Jesus taught us that he was not Herodes. “My kingdom is not of this world: if my kingdom were of this world, then would my servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews: but now is my kingdom not from hence”. Jesus was nonviolent. Not exactly what you would associate with being a King. He was God. He was love, both long-suffering and kind. That is why he came to earth as a man and not as a woman: not because God favors men, but because the concept of what it means to be a Man on earth is so contrary to what it means to being God in heaven – who Mormons believe is male. Be kind, as a child, he said to them, and loving as a hen gathers her chickens:

“O ye people of these great cities which have fallen, who are descendants of Jacob, yea, who are of the house of Israel, how oft have I gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and have nourished you. Yea, how oft would I have gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens, and ye would not. O ye house of Israel, whom I have spared, how oft will I gather you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if ye will repent and return unto me with full purpose of heart.”

Love one another

It was necessary for Jesus to come to earth in the form and shape of a male – to represent God as his firstborn son, the first among all great men, a king of kings. “Little children, a new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.”

The divine irony is the fact that Jesus exhibits throughout his life traits that we call feminine: peaceful, loving, kind, sharing, meek, forgiving, gentle, and caring. He helped the poor and he healed the sick. We crucified him, because he was a threat to men everywhere. He challenged the very idea of what it means to be a man: strong, violent, forceful, greedy, noisy, arrogant and proud. He challenged the way we think about achieving peace, not by dominating others before they dominate us, but by showing us a better way to freedom – paved with love and with sacrifice.

In short, this was the message Jesus gave to the modern House of Israel, to the modern sons of Jacob: “What manner of men ought ye to be? Verily I say unto you, even as I am”. He showed all men an alternative masculinity - that of the nonviolent male who sides with the poor and the downtrodden. Come, follow me, the Savior said.

Gaining A Testimony - by Jonathan Scott Griffin

"Now, we will compare the word unto a seed. Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my funderstanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.

Now behold, would not this increase your faith? I say unto you, Yea; nevertheless it hath not grown up to a perfect knowledge.

But behold, as the seed swelleth, and sprouteth, and beginneth to grow, then you must needs say that the seed is good; for behold it swelleth, and sprouteth, and beginneth to grow. And now, behold, will not this strengthen your faith? Yea, it will strengthen your faith: for ye will say I know that this is a good seed; for behold it sprouteth and beginneth to grow.”

(Alma 32: 28-30)

I have more liberal leanings than most members of the Church. Sometimes this causes conflict with the conservatives in the Church. However, I also have a testimony of the Gospel. But this testimony didn’t come immediately. I hope that my words, as a member of the Church who leans more to the left, will persuade and help those in the left to remain active in the Church, despite how other members of the Church may view them. I believe that those on the left side of the spectrum, such as myself, and others, can remain in the Church and be active in the Gospel, no matter what others may say.

My story starts out when I was a missionary stationed in Nauvoo. I was sent there on a year long service mission, not with preaching involved, but just service. The Church said it was because of my high-functioning autism. But I, to this day, feel the real reason the Lord sent me there was because of my struggles with the Church. I didn't have the firmest testimony. In Nauvoo I was exposed to the ghosts of the past, or rather, in simpler terms, to a plethora of Church history, some of it long forgotten. It was from the Journal of Discourses I learned about the many wives of Joseph Smith, blood atonement, Adam-God doctrine, the racist statements against blacks from General Authorities, and so forth. These things even further shook up my already fragile faith. I began to lash out on my companions, to cry in my bed, and just be overall pugnacious. I wanted the truth exposed. I didn't want to destroy the Church, but rather only for the Church to admit mistakes had been made. I knew I couldn't afford the Journal of Discourses, so I did something else. I bought a book, which took snippets from what general authorities said. However, now that I look back, I realize this was an anti-Mormon book. It took snippets from what they said, but failed to put things into context as to why they said them. Eventually my mission companion took the book to my mission president. I received a call from him. I was surprised to hear no condemnation in his voice, but rather concern and love. I was called to his office the next day. Instead of chastising me, he told me how proud he was of me, for researching, delving into issues, and told me the Lord blessed me with a great mind. He bore testimony to me that I would learn the truth, and rather than stop researching, told me to keep reading. The more I read, from what is the new Mormon history, rather than the anti, or just faith promoting, truth sunk into my mind. Sure, I had some breakdowns, but the mission president never sent me home, always loved me, and tried to answer my questions to the best of his ability. A miracle happened. The Lord filled me with the light of truth, and now I don't have any doubt in my mind that the Gospel is true. This is Christ's Church.

In regards to reading different history of the Church, how has that helped me? When I come across people who are antagonistic towards the Church, or are just generally well-meaning but, like I did, have concerns, I pray to Heavenly Father for guidance. Dipping into that knowledge that I have gained, from the honest history which tells warts and all, I am able to use that knowledge, fused with the Spirit, to try and alleviate their fears. I talk to them, in their language, about Old Testament prophets, and New Testament prophets, and I point out parts in the Bible where they didn't act accordingly, and tell them that our living prophets, are God's mouthpiece, but like the imperfect prophets of the Old and New Testament, they make mistakes as well.

As for D. Michael Quinn, yes he is excommunicated, but he still believes in the Church. He is not a bitter anti-Mormon. In fact a couple years ago, about 2006 or 2007, he wrote a favorable article about Joseph Smith's First Vision and the evidence surrounding it. He gave much evidence to corroborate his claims, and even dismissed some anti-Mormons in the process. When I talked to him on the phone, he gave a very powerful testimony on the truthfulness of the Gospel and the Church. It was beautiful. I find his books Mormon Hierarchy, and Early Mormonism and the Magic World View to be outstanding pieces of scholarship.

I know the Church is true. I know that Joseph Smith translated the Book of Mormon, and that this is Christ's Church. I also know that we have living prophets and apostles. I also know that we shouldn't fear questioning, and, like Hugh B. Brown said, there is room for doubt when it helps us grow. I know that reading from the history of the Church, and studying controversial issues, helps us increase in knowledge and wisdom. I know that we can admit the prophets don't always act accordingly, and sometimes make mistakes, but that we can still sustain and follow them. I know that instead of distancing ourselves from those pondering leaving the Church, and having doubt about the Church's validity, we need to reach out and love them just as Christ would. President Hinckley once said that we should continue to love people, even if they never join the Church, and to be their real friends. I think the same applies to those who are thinking of leaving the Church; always be their friend. It may be difficult to stay in a Church which seems so conservative at times, but I believe the Gospel is for everyone, even those with different political views.

Pray for strength and guidance, that we may always see the truth within the Church, and within the Gospel, so that we may remain strong, like a fortress, all the while reaching out to those, in love, not judgment, who are struggling. May the Spirit and the love of Christ and Heavenly Father help us in our endeavors.

Finding Faith In Christ And In The Members - by David Baker

Membership: What does this word mean to you? What do you think of when you hear it? Church membership? Membership in the Democratic Party? Membership in the NRA? Recently I have heard the terminology used and described as being a “card carrying” member. Does a recommend, a credit card, a checkbook, a Masonic ring really make you a member? It seems that more and more if you are a member of this group or that, then you are defined solely by that membership. The concept is that you are a homogeneous member of the basic guidelines of the group, that you are one solid core or thought.

Even if this isn’t the actual case, the manner in which we act would lead us to believe that this is so. How often in church do we see other members as “fitting the mold?” When you meet a Mormon from Utah County do you not think of one key type, a member of a particular set of homogeneous guidelines?

I ruminate upon this because a while back I discovered that the word “member” as used in the ancient Greek by Paul, means an “organ;” an essential part of the whole. Today we see membership as belonging to a “unit” like membership as a storm trooper or of a member of the Borg. We see membership and each member as one replaceable cog in the collective machine.

I feel that this is how members on a ward, stake and worldwide level see “membership” in the Church. How uninspiring is it to be a replaceable cog in the machine of the Church when Paul produced such beautiful imagery to describe how we are all organs in the body of Christ, and in the body of the Church. We each have our own vital role that is no less important than any other organ’s job. We might be a tiny nephron, filtering out waste, or a neuron transmitting essential commands of higher thought. Regardless of our role in the body of His Church, we are vastly important to Christ.

How sad is it that in our modern world of machinery we grow up learning that to question is wrong; that those whose opinions within the Church were wavering or off from our own were succinctly bad or evil. This happens all around us. If you doubt it just bring a Sunstone magazine to Sunday School or speak up in priesthood with a viewpoint that is different from the status quo.

If we looked and saw someone doing something different from us, we would assume that our model, our way, is right, that it is the best way to do it. If a neuron saw a nephron filtering waste, wouldn’t it wonder and think (after living only with other neurons) that that nephron was a foreign entity, that it was wrong, or evil and that it was not doing things correctly? And yet, when looked at from a distance, with an all-encompassing view, are they not both equally important and necessary for maintaining the body? If we are all members in the organization of the Church then should there not be the diversity of thought and opinion and of people as seen by Paul?

As a gay Mormon I now know and feel that there is a place for me in Christ’s love and I while I know that there is a position for me in membership of his Church organization, I hope that others begin to notice it and realize that even though I might be a nose hair follicle, a stem cell, or a pituitary gland, it doesn’t matter. Each individual cell has a place; each organ is essential and each member essential to the Body of the Church. I know that the Lord sees me, as he made me, as an integral part of the overall body of the Gospel.

Regardless of what others say, I believe that “MoHo’s” (Mormon homosexuals) have a place in the organization of the church. Whether our place is to cleanse the system of the waste of prejudice and inequality, to help the church grow out of stagnancy, or to serve as a line of defense against the outside world, we have a place. I do not know what or where it is, but I have faith in the Lord, the Master that he is. He has placed us precisely in the position where we need to be and at the end of the day he will tell us, “well done my good and faithful servant.”

God's Love - by Cody McKay

There is one thing I feel I have learned over the course of years (and am probably still learning), and that is that God’s love really is all-reaching and limitless. There is no one living or dead, past, present, or future that this love does not apply to. Often, as human beings, we are so quick to judge others or ourselves, and there are times when we think God couldn’t possibly love us because of the things we’ve done in our lives. Perhaps there are certain people we think God couldn’t (or even shouldn’t) love. God’s love is hard to understand with our limited human perception, but I feel sure he loves everyone, even the people that are harder to love.

I remember a particular church meeting I went to. In Sunday School the lesson was about Samuel the Lamanite, and as I was listening, it struck me that Samuel, righteous as he was, was actually an outsider preaching to members of the Church who had become prideful and wicked. I assume Samuel was considered a member of the Church, too, since he was a prophet and living his life in righteousness. But my point is that it struck me as ironic that these high and mighty Nephites, who probably felt Samuel was beneath them, were being preached to and called to repentance by he who was actually more righteous in his life than they were. I just thought it was interesting.

What really lifted me up spiritually that day was that the Special Needs Mutual came to our ward to sing and speak. I didn't even know that such a group existed. What was interesting to me was that during the sacrament, one of the special needs women started commentating on the proceedings at full voice. She was pretty much shouting stuff like "Here comes the bread!" and "Oh, he's passing by us now," etc. She wasn't doing it to be rude. In fact, she was quite joyful in doing it. It's just the way she was. As I sat there, I thought about how social rules have taught us all our life to be "normal," whatever that means, and that one of those rules is that we're supposed to be quiet and reverent during the sacrament, and I thought, "I'll bet there are people in the congregation who are uncomfortable or bothered by this woman,” and I asked myself a question I have asked myself often: "Why are we so afraid of people that are different from us?" I myself was not bothered by her behavior; in fact, I found it sweet in a way. And I always am interested in things that "rock the boat" a bit. In my mind I thought, "This woman is who she is. She can't help behaving that way nor does she view it as being wrong or abnormal." As I thought about this, I equated it to my own situation of being a homosexual, something I feel I just am even if it means I don't always fit in the "Mormon box."

What really moved me was that this special needs group sang a song that I know very well from having sang it in high school many years ago. Perhaps you are familiar with it as well. It is called "In This Very Room," and these are the lyrics:

"In this very room there's quite enough love for one like me,
And in this very room there's quite enough joy for one like me,
And there's quite enough hope and quite enough power to chase away any gloom,
For Jesus, Lord Jesus ... is in this very room.
And in this very room there's quite enough love for all of us,
And in this very room there's quite enough joy for all of us,
And there's quite enough hope and quite enough power to chase away any gloom,
For Jesus, Lord Jesus ... is in this very room.

In this very room there's quite enough love for all the world,
And in this very room there's quite enough joy for all the world,
And there's quite enough hope and quite enough power to chase away any gloom,
For Jesus, Lord Jesus ... is in this very room."

What was interesting was their configuration as they sang it. Unlike a "normal" choir that would be in some proper formation, one guy with Down’s syndrome came to the front of the group all by himself, and yet another sang the song from the aisle near the congregation (still a part of the group, but completely on his own at the same time). Their voices were varied. Some sang just fine, others couldn't sing well at all, and that one woman just commented while everybody was singing until she was the last voice heard muttering various things long after the song itself had ended. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen or heard in church, and I was crying throughout, especially because the words seemed so poignant to their situation as well as my own. Sometimes one doesn't fit the conventional definition of "normalcy," at least by the world's standards or the church's standards or society's standards or what-have-you. But what really hit me was that it doesn't matter so much because God's love is so far-reaching, so eternal, so abundant, so boundless, that there is a place for everyone at his table. No one is beyond the reach of his love. No one is excluded. Sometimes religion can seem like a very exclusive thing, and it is interesting that the irony is that God is completely inclusive.

I was reminded of a song from an Off-Broadway show, Altar Boyz, called "Everybody Fits." It goes like this:

“Some days you just can't begin.
You feel outside looking in.
It's like you're the odd man out.
Let me help you end your doubt.

It doesn't matter if you're different and out of place.
It doesn't matter if there's acne upon your face.
It doesn't matter.
Take my hand and then you will see
Everybody fits in God's great family.

Strangers seem to stop and stare,
Wonderin' why you're even there,
Feeling so left out and wrong.
I'll show you that you belong.

It doesn't matter if you have a gigantic nose.
It doesn't matter if you're born with eleven toes.
It doesn't matter.
You can trust and believe in me.
Everybody fits in God's great family.

In the family of God you'll learn
That there is no such thing as others.
All the woman and men on Earth
Can be your sisters and your brothers.

It doesn't matter if you're wrinkled and old and gray.
It doesn't matter if you face Mecca when you pray.
It doesn't matter.
Won't you listen and hear my plea?
Everybody fits.
It doesn't matter if you're yellow or white or red.
It doesn't matter if you're pregnant and you're unwed.
It doesn't matter
'Cause the truth, it can set you free,
Everybody fits!
Everybody fits!

It doesn't matter .
Every murderer on death row
It doesn't matter
Every prostitute that you know
It doesn't matter
Welcome to the fraternity.
Everybody fits in God's great family,
You and me,
We fit into the family.”

I really believe in an all-loving God. I think sometimes people and religion make us think we lose his love if we sin or that if we're not living our lives perfectly according to society's norms that we're somehow unworthy of that love. I wish I could convince everyone that this isn't true. My heart powerfully received the message on that Sunday (as it has many times before) that there is a place for all at God's table regardless of your situation. I don't care if you're a murderer, an adulterer, an atheist, gay, mentally-challenged, mentally-deranged, suicidal, a woman, a man, if you've lost all faith or have plenty, whether you're a prophet, or the biggest sinner in the world. God loves you and me in terms that are inexplicable to our finite human minds, and nothing we ever do will cause him to stop loving us. I become more and more convinced of that as I continue on my life's journey. It's good to know.

A Leftist Mormon In France - by Laurent Lechifflart

What does it mean to be "mormon de gauche" (leftist mormon) in France?

First you must keep in mind that the political spectrum is much wider in France, from neo-trotskyist far left to monarchist far right. And it is also wider among French Saints than among their US church fellows – even though extremists of both sides are quite rare in the Church.

Another major difference is that the "moderate" left and right in France are more left than their US counterparts. Many positions considered "leftist" in the US are here quite consensual across the French political chessboard. Socialized medical insurance, legal abortion, civil union for gays, right of strike, separation of church and state (among many others) are accepted by the moderate rightist parties. This is why the moral issues (abortion, gay rights) are not considered by French Saints as politically deciding.

Another point to consider, in spite of a largely accepted separation of churches and state, is the strong, traditional ties between the French conservative parties and the Catholic Church, which represents about 85% of the population. This makes many Saints uncomfortable when dealing with the conservative parties. For instance, they are shocked when president Sarközy (a conservative) addresses the pope in public as "très saint père" (most holy father).

All those reasons explain why a bigger proportion of Mormons in France vote for leftist parties or are involved in workers unions than in the US.

This said, it is hard to find which proportion of French Saints are leftists. The first reason is that two subjects in France are not usually brought up in conversation, including by church members: money and politics. When two French people speak together, they most likely talk about cooking!

Another reason is that the Church is perceived by the French Saints as "conservative". Even though the Church remains strictly neutral on political issues, the overwhelming strength of the Republican vote among US saints is well known here. The problem is that many Mormons here consider their brothers from across the ocean as models. This is why some might feel "out of standard" - if not "guilty" - for leaning to the left, and keep quiet about it.

Once two or more "mormons de gauche" have identified each other as such, they talk more freely of political issues. From such conversations I've had so far, it seems that there is not much difference between them and other French leftists. All those I know (including myself) strongly supported Chirac (even though he was a conservative) in his adamant opposition against the war in Iraq. They opposed the recent return of France into NATO military commandment. They consider Sarközy as a dangerous sorcerer's apprentice who is endangering the "French social model" which has existed since the end of World War II. They would like the government more involved in the economy, especially to restrain the immorality of wild capitalism. They support the European Union as an instrument of peace but reject its dogma of unrestrained economical competition. They want strong public services (education, electricity, railways, etc.) and don't want them to be dismantled and sold to private operators. They want a better protection of environment. And last but not least, they are saddened by the "war of the chiefs" that weakens the Socialist Party (second party in the country and main party of the moderate left).

John's Story - by Lewis Campbell

Quite some time ago, I moved into a ward where I turned out to be the only temple-recommend holder Elder. The Elder's Quorum was led by a high-priest. Of course, it took about a week before I was in the Stake President's office and found myself as the new EQ President.

There was a gentleman I'll never forget. I'll call him John to protect the innocent. My ward is on the Dineh (Navajo) Nation. John was a quiet Navajo man who was really faithful. He attended all the service projects and really cared about helping others. We ended up calling him as the EQ Secretary.

Not long after, he stopped coming to church. Eventually, one of the other members came to me, angrily demanding that I release him immediately. Apparently, he showed up drunk some place where this other member was. Two more people came to me with the same complaint. We ultimately had to release John.

I visited John and he broke down and told me all about his lifetime struggle with alcoholism. I asked him to please come back to church, because I really felt he needed love and support. He lived by himself and we were really the only people he knew who didn't drink. He told me he was afraid, because he knew everyone would look down at him and criticize him. I knew he was right, but I told him that no matter what happened, no matter what anyone said or did to him, he could sit by me and my family and I would be happy to see him there, and I would never look down on him. He started coming again for a while, but he was right. There were disapproving looks, and sometimes outright criticisms. He came less and less, and finally not at all.

One night, I had a dream. In my dream, I was presiding at a funeral in our ward, and John was the man in the casket. Within days of my dream, John's brother died in an alcohol related accident. At the funeral, I took John aside and told him about my dream, and begged him to come to church. I told him I was afraid that the dream would come to pass if he didn't. He agreed, and started coming to church, but after a while, the same thing happened. The disapproving looks. The general malaise. He eventually stopped coming.

Then, one day, he went on a drinking binge and ended up in the hospital for alcohol poisoning. For some reason I'll never understand, the hospital released him at 1AM without anyone of us, his friends or family there to help him. He walked out onto the highway straight into the path of an oncoming semi. A few days later, my dream came true, and I attended John's funeral.

Ever since then, whenever I get the opportunity, I rail against judgmentalism and the kinds of attitudes that we sometimes have that are inconsistent with Christ-like love and patience. I try to remind people that, unless your name has “Bishop” in front of it, you are not called to be a “judge in Zion” for anyone but yourself. Our call is to be diligent in avoiding sin, yes, but to be focused on our own sin, not so much the sins of others. I remind people that although the chapel is sacred, it is not the temple. There is no recommend required to enter. “Nevertheless, ye shall not cast him out of your synagogues, or your places of worship, for unto such shall ye continue to minister; for ye know not but what they will return and repent, and come unto me with full purpose of heart, and I shall heal them; and ye shall be the means of bringing salvation unto them.” (3 Ne 18:32) Chapels are the emergency rooms of the church, and the Savior is the chief physician. “And Jesus answering said unto them, They that are whole need not a physician; but they that are sick.” (Luke 5:31). Even today, every time I think about John, it breaks my heart.

Flash back to many, many years before this incident, and many years before we moved into this ward. A long, long time ago I left the church for similar reasons as some others. I am a pretty opinionated liberal or progressive or whatever you want to call it. I'm a card-carrying member of the green party. And a few years after being baptized, I came to the conclusion that I couldn't deal with the pushing, the absolutist attitude, the guilt trips, and all that. And, more importantly, I couldn't make my progressive ideals mesh with what I thought was an overwhelmingly conservative church.

I'm not telling this story to make people think they're wrong to leave the church or to be skeptical. On the contrary, I'm telling it to say that I truly understand what some people go through because I've been there. Like many LDS spouses, my wife has always been very straight-up conservative LDS, and she almost divorced me when I left the church. To make it worse, her family was furious with me, and I was under a lot of pressure.

But for me the path was different. As I said before, a few years later we moved to New Mexico and I took a job where I was surrounded by active LDS people. But they were different — less judgmental, more Christ-like. And I learned, slowly, that all the stuff that drove me crazy was culture, not doctrine. More importantly, though, I learned for myself that the core of my individual faith was following the Savior's statement of the two greatest commandments: To love the Lord thy God with all your heart, mind and soul, and to love your neighbor as yourself. If you think about it, progressive values are Christ-like values. They are the embodiment of "loving your neighbor as yourself."

Fast-forward to today, I'm still vocal and opinionated. People around me now know that I'm going to open up a can of smack-down on them if they try to get away with some snide comment like, "We'd better get ready for the second coming now that Obama's in office." (Actually, I try to be kind but firm, but you get the point.) But everyone from my bishop to my stake president supports my right to believe what I believe, even though they disagree with me, because this truly is a partisan neutral church, and they truly do believe in President Hinckley's admonition to "disagree without being disagreeable." So far, I haven't been released.

Also, I’m happy to say that John’s death, in my opinion, was not in vain. It changed me. I repeat that story to my counselors often, and we have learned how to help people like John understand that they are wanted and loved in our ward so that they can have the emotional support that comes from being in such a community. I really feel like, for every John whose life ended in tragedy, we have five others who were able to overcome. Of course, battling addiction is a never-ending thing. John is one of the battles we lost. But largely because of John, we are winning the war.

I don't know why all this cultural nonsense is so prevalent in the church. But I have to say, that for me, it's all irrelevant. I'm truly happy being both LDS and progressive. And I when I left the church and came back to it, I left all the guilt behind. Mostly now, I just take joy in helping all these men and their families who are trying to eek out their way in this life, and seeing them grown and change. In my opinion, that's what an Elder's Quorum President, or any church member, should be doing. That's what Christ did. That's what he wants us to do. The rest of it is just details.