Leaving and Staying

I have great respect for personal experience and where that takes people.

Almost two decades ago, when I started college and I was barely an adult, I thought that I wanted to stay a republican and not become a democrat. I was worried that the influences at college might sway my political views. But my opinions and political views changed, for lots of reasons. I went to political meetings and found myself frustrated with the attitudes I found there. I cared more about compassion towards others, and listening more than shouting. I left. I am very glad that I did not stick with my naïve18-year-old views.

Sometimes we leave. Sometimes we stay.

Commitment is often really helpful: it helps us get through the hard moments. When we commit fully to a goal or value, that commitment can help get us through some tough decisions. I once committed not to eat desserts for a month, and that commitment led to some health benefits and a greater sense of self-mastery. We might commit to not check social media, or to get out of comfort zone, or go to bed early. We can also commit to values, like honesty, truth, and love. These are good commitments.

But commitment can be harmful too if it’s not fully informed or is not adaptable to needed change. I don’t want to commit to some sort of dogma that I later learn is flawed and problematic. And because there is lot I don’t know, I need to leave myself open for change.

When I started graduate school, I was again worried that school would change my beliefs. I wanted to commit to where I was at right then, to be able to stay in the exact same beliefs that I had. But that sort of commitment felt wrong to me, and I realized that I needed to have an open mind and let me experience change me. There is so much I don’t understand; so much I don’t know yet.

I am religious person, and my faith is important to me, but it’s changed and evolved a lot over my lifetime. I was a good girl when I was young, and I didn’t have many questions. I didn’t rebel, and I didn’t swear, and I always did what I should. But now I do have a lot of questions, and I feel more rebellious and sometimes I push the boundaries. It’s not a big change, but it’s there.

Somedays I felt like I was on the precipice of leaving or staying–I wasn’t quite sure what was next. I know of really good people who have made radical changes in their beliefs and their religion. Most of it is intensely personal and can be painful as well. When our identities shift and change, we can feel untethered, uncertain, unknown to ourselves.

But there was one day when I realized that I was no longer on that precipice anymore. That I was staying. Staying for now and maybe staying for forever. But I don’t know where the future will bring. I will keep changing throughout my life.

Knowledge and belief and commitment are an experience that is not always linear. Sometimes we leave and then come back. Sometimes we stay when we want to leave. Sometimes we leave and feel relief. Sometimes we stay and find peace. Sometimes we go through a lifetime of all of that in various areas of our life.

It’s okay to leave, if that is where your journey is taking you. It is also okay to stay.

Most of all, it is good to let your journey be your journey. And in that process, we also do not judge other people for where they are at. We can realize that we’re all just trying the best that we can.

Who Gets Saved?

Salvation is a common concept in religion. It may mean lots of different things, but perhaps it can be summarized as individuals becoming something beyond their own selves. It is something that is not only desirable, but it is often the entire purpose of existence.

But who gets saved?

Do you need to believe certain things? Do you need to practice certain things? Is it available to all, or only to a few?

Many different religions and different denominations have different answers to this. For some, it seems that only a few get saved, those that are most righteous, or who engage in certain practices, or have a certain amount of knowledge (salvation is exclusive).

But that may seem unfair. Shouldn’t everyone at least have the chance to be saved? Some people want a more inclusive view of salvation instead.

And is there only one way to get saved, or are there many?

I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I have recently heard some misconceptions about who gets saved, according to that faith. Some people think that the Church only teaches that a few select people get saved, and the rest of the people are condemned, and that seems way too exclusive.

But I don’t think salvation is really exclusive. Much of the Church’s teaching about salvation are in Doctrine and Covenants 76. While Christian churches believe in heaven and hell, this section goes beyond that and describes three degrees of glory: a celestial, terrestrial, and telestial kingdom.

What is sometimes forgotten is that these are all degrees of glory, where everyone is in a good place. When this revelation was received, many struggled with it because it was seen as too universal. That everyone receives glory and salvation, not just a few. Instead of a division of heaven and hell that lasts for forever, heaven and hell are temporary, and what is eternal for almost everyone is some degree of glory.

While the degrees of glory are divided up into three categories, there are actually more degrees than that. And these degrees aren’t so much some sort of reward, but reflects what a person wants, and how they want to live forever.

So what if all these things are true?

  1. Everyone will have a knowledge of truth.
  2. Salvation is free and open to all.
  3. You can choose whether to be saved or not.
  4. So those people who do not want to be saved–they don’t want to become anything bigger than themselves–don’t have to.

This is an inclusive view of salvation, but it doesn’t mean that everyone gets saved in a certain way. Everyone who wants to and choose to be saved is. It’s there. It’s available. It’s inclusive and applies to everyone. Unless they chose not to. Or they only want part of it.

I think that offers a lot of hope.

Total Solar Eclipse

We drove to Texas in order to see an eclipse.

In 2017, we lived in the path of totality of a total solar eclipse. My kids were all little then, the oldest barely in school and the youngest literally breastfeeding during the eclipse. Dillon was working at the state park we lived at and coordinating all the visitors who had come. Some of my family came out to experience it with us.

When it was over, I just wanted to experience it again. And I had to wait almost 7 years, but we put the 2024 eclipse on our calendar (on the wrong date, but we fixed it later).

Things changed a lot in 7 years. We moved and moved again. Dillon switched jobs a few times. I started graduate school. We renovated a house. Our kids are now all in school, all old enough to remember.

5 months before the eclipse, I reserved a campsite in the path of totality at Cedar Hill State Park. And then eventually made the rest of the travel arrangements. As the day got closer, though, I was worried: cloud cover. I kept checking the weather app, and it never changed. There was always cloud cover.

But we drove over 20 hours to Texas (and then over 20 hours back). We planned out stops along the way and saw some cool things: a faux waterfall, structures built almost 1,000 years ago, my aunt, vintage RVs, rocks interspersed with iron or copper, old airplanes, turtles swimming in a river, longhorn cattle, vintage video game consoles.

I was somewhat distracted during the trip as I am towards the end of the semester, and final papers are looming. I had to do some school work even when I just wanted to be on vacation.

The day of the eclipse came, and the clouds rolled in. We went on a hike in the morning through forest and grasslands, and the air was misty with humidity.

And then the clouds rolled away as the eclipse started.

I have words I could use to describe the eclipse: awe, sublime, beauty. In the middle of totality, I felt like I needed to get a picture, but I could never capture that moment. Pictures and videos do not show what it is like. It is an experience: aesthetic, spiritual, awesome.

The sun had come out and the day was hot, and then the temperature dropped. The birds stopping singing. The crickets chirped. I could see planets and stars and the moon and the sun all together in the heavens.

It was worth it.

***

We drove back home after it rained on our camping stuff. We dropped by a museum filled with random old stuff, a conservatory of tropical plants, and a frontier prison where we heard macabre stories. We arrived home to clean up, drive off our camping stuff, and go back to normal.

***

During this weekend, it was General Conference for my church. I listened to quite a few talks, and we tried to watch sessions together as a family. We heard about miracles and prayer.

And I was praying.

Sometimes, it is not easy to believe, to have faith. I am friends with many who have stepped away from faith, all for their own unique reasons. And for a moment, I was just filled up with questions and worry. I need spiritual experiences regularly in order to keep my faith, and sometimes they seem too far away.

I don’t know if it counts as a miracle that I was able to view the eclipse, free of clouds. The forecast never changed, but the clouds went away for many. Yet some places were still cloudy.

I do view it as a blessing, a tender mercy. The total solar eclipse is spiritual: heavenly bodies so perfectly sized and timed to bring night when it should be day.

I wonder how it would feel like it you didn’t know that an eclipse was coming. If it got dark and cold, the shadows trembling as the heavens move in inexplicable ways. If you could see the sun disappearing through the clouds. Everything changes. It is night for a few minutes, that fades back it into day. It would be terrifying.

We can map the heavens now, and yet there is still so much that remains unknown. I find myself often in inexplicable moments where I do not understand.

I worked on a research project on my trip, getting feedback back and forth from a professor who knows much more than I do. I am interested in a topic because I do not understand, and because the more I read and think, the more questions I have. I don’t think there is a way of figuring it out at all.

And life is like that. There is a type of comfort that can come inside the terrifying unknow: that with everything I do not know, I can still live and breathe and love and experience beauty greater than I can understand.

Why I believe

Because I feel God talking to me, inspiring me, guiding me in my life. Because practices like prayer, church, temple, scripture, and ministering enhances that communication and that relationship. Because I have had personal experiences that sometimes I can’t even put into words properly where I feel God’s presence in my life.

The reason I believe is my own experience. And that to me is at the heart of religious knowledge: we believe because of our own personal experience. That is what my religion tells me: not to simply trust others and in their experience, but to get my own experience instead. To pray to God. to hear him speak back. I yearn to feel close to God because that is the best feeling in my life, one of love and peace.

And some, many, people do not have the same experience that I have. So I must respect them for what they believe, whatever that may be. We may come to different conclusions. combinations of doubt and faith and belief in conflicting narratives that I do not always understand. I do not know another’s experience, but I can understand that if experience is where we gain spiritual knowledge, then I cannot force belief, I cannot persuade, I cannot argue. I can only share. And hope.