Church hopping

A list of church encounters since exploring worship outside of the LDS faith

Something for Sundays is a reader-supported publication about disentangling Mormonism without giving up on God, and exploring spiritual growth. Thank you for being here!!! To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Paid subscribers receive monthly Spiritual Seeds, and my more sensitive/personal posts. Today’s post is free for everyone!

Note: The form of today’s newsletter is inspired by August Lamm’s post on Casual Dating. Turns out church hopping feels a lot like dating.

Since moving back to Utah, I’ve done something I’ve wanted to do for a while, which is to explore a lot of houses of worship near me. It’s been enlightening, demystifying, confusing, fun, disappointing, heartfelt, and sometimes… just plain weird. Below, you’ll find a list of encounters I’ve had whilst church hopping:

1. The first Sunday that I decided to explore other churches outside of my local LDS ward in Utah, I went to the church closest to me, which happens to be Unitarian Universalist. I had read about their core beliefs on their website before walking over — things like radical inclusivity, belief in a universal God, and a deep respect for all human beings and ways of worship. Exciting! Daring! Cool! Everyone was welcome, they said — and it showed. They had pride flags hanging in the entrance, a woman pastor, and a diverse congregation. That day I attended was special, apparently, with musical numbers the entire service. The guy in front of us kept turning around in the pew and assuring us, “This isn’t how it normally is.” Odd. I thought the music was nice, but I kept wanting them to sing about God, and they kept not singing about God. They sang about everything else but God — love, peace, rivers, the stars — but maybe God is in everything, so were they actually singing about God, in God’s purest form? Even then, it felt like something was missing, which made me realize a piece of what I am really looking for in a spiritual community is a place dedicated to think and talk about God. At the end, they did this thing where they all gathered together and put their hands on each other and sang a song about humanity. I politely watched from a distance. I’ll be honest, I left feeling a bit confused.

2. The next Sunday, I set out to find a worship experience that felt more God-centered, so I walked in the opposite direction to a local baptist church. I was among the youngest there, which isn’t saying much, since I live in a pretty old neighborhood. The sweet lady next to me scurried off immediately to give me a welcome mug. I was feeling great about the kind old ladies, beautiful big stain glass windows, and upbeat electric guitar music. Then the pastor started his sermon. A large part of his message that day was about Christians being persecuted in California because they refused to serve LGBTQ+ people. He related it to Christians being persecuted in the New Testament, which I thought was odd, because most early Christians were often persecuted for being too inclusive of others in their grassroots-y faith. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stomach the whole meeting and left early (but kept the mug as a memento!).

3. After that, I tried a non-denominational church. I had been to non-denominational churches before, so I knew to expect: a casual dress code, free coffee out front (can you imagine?!), and a Jesus-themed concert where you had to stand pretty much the whole time. I was worried about that part — the standing. I’ve recently discovered the joy of sitting at concerts. Live at the Moody Theater in Austin is my absolute favorite concert venue because you get to sit AND have a great view, no matter where you are! The comfortable chairs, innovative architecture, meals delivered to your seat, and unbeatable acoustics of that venue feel holy in their own right. I wondered if it was hard for these non-denom people to go to church knowing they had to stand for a long time every single week. The whole time during their worship I found myself wanting to sit down, but nobody else was sitting down. When did I become so lame? Sometimes I just want to sit and think. Anyway, we got through the concert part, and then finally! We got to sit down!

The pastor was a very skilled speaker, and seemed really knowledgeable about the Bible. They gave us guided notes and pencils to fill in the blanks. As a teacher, I appreciated the effort to help us remember the message. And what do you know, I still remember it. The church had a slogan: “You can belong before you believe!” It felt very we-know-a-lot-of-you-used-to-be-Mormon coded. They seemed to understand their target market. Near the end, the pastor made a slight jab about LDS Missionaries, which made me feel a little defensive. Kind of like, ‘I can make fun of my family, but you don’t get to make fun of my family’ sort of thing.

4. I went to another Baptist church (on accident!). After my first anti-LGBTQ+ baptist experience, I wasn’t planning on trying another baptist church, but I will say that I had a much better experience at this one. They branded themselves as being a multicultural community, and I loved the diversity within the congregation. The pastor was very animated and I wondered if he was from the South, and found out that he was! It felt very classic Southern-Baptist-y. Out of all the services I’ve been to, this church had the best worship leaders and singers by far. My favorite song they played was this song, but their version was much better.

5. By this point, I decided to part ways from Protestantism for a bit and attended a Catholic Mass at the big cathedral downtown. I texted my friend who grew up Catholic and said, “I’m on my way to mass!” “What?!” she responded, “Why??” She told me to follow what everyone else was doing, which ended up being great advice. Mass was completely different from the concert-y, performance-y churches I had begun to be accustomed to. Although the other churches had mugs and welcoming committees and people with t-shirts that said “Need someone to sit with?”, Catholicism didn’t go out of its way to try to impress me (aside from the ornate architecture and detailed stained glass windows), which is maybe why it did impress me. The big doors were open wide before Mass, and I remembered learning that “catholic” means “universal.” It felt that way. I could barely hear a word that the priest said during the message with all of the echoes, but there was something special about participating in ancient prayers and rituals that have been around for centuries.

6. I purposely went back to the non-denominational church because I knew the room would be dark, the music would be loud, and I thought it would be easier to hide (and cry) without drawing attention to myself. It worked!

7. I attended a six-week class held by said non-denominational church that explicitly taught the differences between LDS theology and “mainstream” Christian theology. The class was taught by someone who had left the LDS church in his twenties, became an Atheist for 10+ years, and then returned to God by way of Christianity. He was a very kind, intelligent and understanding teacher. It was comforting being with others who were navigating this Mormon-Christianity space. We all had similar questions, like, “What is the purpose of life now?”, “Why do you believe in original sin?”, “Wtf is the trinity?” and “Will we still be with our families after we die?”

The last day of class, the teacher invited the lead pastor and founders of the church to do a Q&A. Someone in the class asked, “I felt God on my mission tell me to stay on my mission, why would God do that if the LDS church wasn’t true?” The pastor responded and said that he must have been deceived — God would never encourage someone to spread falsities. The founder chimed in and said that the Devil can work through a ~big emotional feeling~, which she believed is what has happened to most people within Mormonism.

I left that Q&A seething. I made a point to speak to the man who asked the question and tell him I didn’t believe what the pastor and founder had said. It struck me as ironic that this same conversation could easily have been had in an LDS Sunday School class; we’d just be batting for a different team. Where was the nuance, the humility, the alchemy? Didn’t we think God could work with individual circumstances, and be creative in assisting us with our spiritual growth?

me to that pastor ^

8. Every time I need a dose of sanity, I tune in online to a Methodist church I attended once back in Texas. That Sunday I attended in person, the pastor blew me away by mentioning different Atonement theories. I have never ever heard anyone speak about this in a church setting before. During the election, he did an entire series on learning to look past the divide and invited people of widely different viewpoints to be guest speakers. Now that I’m in Utah, I sometimes watch the zoom-broadcasted sermons on Youtube (where I am one of five viewers!). This Sunday that I joined, he began teaching a new series on basic Christian beliefs, starting with the Trinity. For Mormons, the Trinity is very confusing, and turns out for Christians, it’s confusing too! He suggested to consider the way we experience God — do we experience God as Creator, Christ, and Spirit?

I wrote him an email afterwards introducing myself and a bit about my faith journey. I thanked him for posting the sermons online, to let him know that even though I’m not in Texas, I still watch, and am grateful to learn from him. He wrote back and said, “I love how your early experiences with religion didn’t seem to make you cynical or angry toward a life of faith or God (which would have been justified) but instead opened your heart to pursue God in a new way.” An exhale.

9. My neighbor back in Austin is an Episcopal Priest, and she was the first woman priest I had ever met. I attended one of her services before, and she even came to our ward’s primary program (the safest Sunday for visitors to come to). Since then, I had wanted to go to an Episcopal church to check it out. As I approached the sanctuary, I was touched to see a big banner that said “Join us on your spiritual journey.” This congregation did not have a female priest, but the male priest was very kind. I set up a meeting with him to ask him some questions. He shared with me that the Episcopal faith has three pillars — Scripture, Tradition, and Reason. I liked the addition of “reason,” something I hadn’t quite put into words before but felt right.

After my experience with the leaders of the non-denominational church in the Q&A, I asked the priest what he thought about the man’s question. Did he too think all Mormons had been deceived? He said, “No, I don’t, and I think it very arrogant for that pastor to say so.”

Twice a month, this Episcopal church sets up a food bank for people in the community. After services, you have the opportunity to volunteer and distribute food to the people who came. No documents were necessary for these people — they could just show up and receive. People stood in line for hours — and I was amazed at how many people, just in my small neighborhood, needed food. I was so touched by the members of this congregation for truly living out what Jesus described as the “two great commandments” — love God, and love your neighbor as yourself.

I attended the Episcopal church regularly for several months, and they even asked me to share a message with the congregation at the beginning of the service one week. It reminded me of being asked to give a talk in the LDS Church, and I was excited to do so. The day of, I was insanely nervous, even though I generally love public speaking, and embarrassingly cried the entire time I gave my message. It felt like too much too soon. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be fully accepted into a new congregation, and I felt ashamed that I had met so many lovely people but wasn’t ready to commit. (Haha, writing this, it feels like dating!) I haven’t been back since. I want to work up the courage to go back and see my friends there at least a few times before we move in the fall.

10. I made a new friend, and she invited me to go to church with her. The best part about this whole church-exploring thing is that I can say yes to everything! I’m every church-goer’s dream guest! Yes, I’ll go with you! Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there! We went to a different non-denominational church than the other I had been to, but it was the same concept: dark room, lots of standing.

The pastor—nice guy, cool tattoos—invited anyone who hadn’t yet “been saved” to repeat a few lines after him, accepting Jesus as their Savior.

Even though I’m pretty sure I’ve already accepted Jesus as my Savior a billion-and-one times (I mean, I served an 18-month, 24/7 mission where Jesus was basically all I thought about), something about the urgency in his voice made me second-guess myself. Had I been saved? So... I repeated the words. Just in case.

As I blinked into the light coming out of the dark sanctuary, a lady from the Welcome Desk—purple streak in her hair, clipboard in hand—stopped me.

“Did you say yes to Jesus today?”

Me: “Uhh… I think so?”

Her: “Did you repeat the words on the screen?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Her: “Alright, honey. Come over here.”

She asked me a bit about myself as she walked me to the welcome table. I told her I was exploring options outside of Mormonism. She smiled knowingly and said, “I thought so.”

Her knowingness made me feel a little exposed—like when you’re the new kid at school trying to reinvent yourself, but the teacher already debriefed the class.

Then she asked if she could pray over me. Before I could respond, she was already placing her hands on my shoulders and beginning to pray out loud. She thanked God for rescuing me from the clutches of Mormonism, for showing me the light, for saving me from the devil and his cunning deceptions.

On the way to the car, my friend apologized for the prayer. But honestly, I didn’t mind— at this point, I thought it all was kind of funny.

What the lady didn’t know was that just the day before, I got a long text from a well-meaning family member who was concerned I’d been deceived by the devil for “leaving” Mormonism. So, according to my family member, I’ve been captured by the devil. According to the church lady, I just escaped him. Either way, no matter what I do, in someone’s eyes… I’m doomed.

Looks like I’m going to need more church.

me, doomed

May we seek and may we find,

In case you missed it…

• May Things: adult friendships, pretty sights, and mural-painting

• Why is the LDS Church Still Protecting Polygamy?: honest questions and sad answers

• Perspective as a principle of joy

• My tribute to my friends who are mothers <3

• Reintegrating: melding together of Mormon me and current me

• My current stance on the Book of Mormon

• Facing my shame head-on