Something for Sundays: How to talk to people about their faith crisis

It's helpful to remember we are all grieving in some way

Something for Sundays is a series of posts about my experiences with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, featured in my Kimber Was Here newsletter. Today's post reflects my personal journey wrestling with Mormon faith and tradition and may challenge some beliefs. If you're not in the right space to read this right now, I understand, and I am so grateful you subscribe anyway. I love you! :)

Last summer, Jonny and I spent a month in Taiwan teaching English. We spent time eating all the mangoes we could, visiting beautiful temples, and hanging out at night markets. We were there with a group of people from the United States and there was a lady there from Utah. She was a woman full of light and fun. One morning, while we were eating breakfast in the hotel lobby, she opened up to me about watching one of her family members go through a faith crisis and ultimately choosing to disaffiliate from the LDS Church. What she expressed was a real, raw, genuine pain. I listened to her intently, and felt so sad as I squeaked out, “I’ve been going through a faith crisis too.”

Her reaction surprised me. She immediately threw her arms around me and burst into tears. She said, “That is so hard. That is so hard.”

We sat there, in the hotel lobby, crying together. 

It occurred to me that her bursting into tears, me bursting into tears, and us hugging and crying and holding each other in our pain felt to be a completely appropriate response to what I was feeling on the inside. 

She didn’t ask me: “Well, have you read the Book of Mormon?” 

She didn’t rename my pain: “Let’s not call it a faith crisis, let’s call it a faith journey!”

I was in crisis, I said I was in crisis, and someone treated me like I was in crisis. It felt nice. 

People’s experiences on this vary, but for me, when I was in my truest-believing state, I almost felt like the Church was my identity. I turned to the Church for my sense of worth, and they provided it for me. 

So when one of my best friends in college told me she was questioning her beliefs about the Church, I felt that she was questioning her beliefs about me, too. It felt personal to me. Her rejection of some of the beliefs in the Church felt like a rejection of me. 

I was distraught about this change. I was worried about her going down the slippery slope. I was worried about her destroying her life. I was worried about her future! Her eternal salvation felt like it hinged on this decision, and if she swayed one way or the other, away from the path, she would be in jeopardy! 

When I looked deeper, underneath my worries and lack of control over her eternal salvation, at the core, the tender spot was this: I was afraid that I would lose my best friend. 

My selfishness had cleverly disguised itself as altruistic “worry.” 

By the time that I had finally worked up the courage to talk to her about it, I had done enough reflection to come to her with my core issue (fear of losing our friendship), not the fluffy “worry” about her shift in beliefs. I could ask for the reassurance that we could still be friends despite our differences in beliefs, and she was able to give it to me. 

I have been on both sides - both the one who feels like they are losing that feeling of a lack of control and the one who is struggling who feels misunderstood and isolated.

For both the true believers and the doubters, we all have that tender part inside of us that is crying out to be protected. And we will go to lengths to protect it! We will claim we are fighting to protect our families, protect our faith, protect our country, protect ourselves, not knowing that our anger and our fear are blinding us from what is underneath. 

I think an important question to ask yourself is, “Do I want to be right, or do I want a relationship with this person?” 

If the answer is relationship, which I hope it is!!!, then it might be time to consider how you will create a container within which your relationship can truly grow. 

On my Instagram story this week, I asked the people what they wish someone would have said to them when they were going through a faith crisis. Each person is unique, and I found that while some people wanted others to ask them more, others wanted space. Ultimately, you know your people, and there isn’t a one-size-fits-all. 

As I sifted through the responses, I found some common themes in what people were saying. I sorted these into four categories: acknowledge pain, give reassurance, offer permission, and get curious. I found that this is not just for people who are believing to say to those who are doubting. It’s for anyone that is struggling and needs to be seen for who they are. 

Acknowledging the pain:

When you see someone whose arm is in a cast, your immediate response is not to say “Cheer up! It will be okay!” Instead, your eyes go wide, you give a little “Awww, what happened? That must have really hurt.” The acknowledgement of the pain goes a long way. Even when that pain can not be seen, it does not mean that it does not hurt. People want others to know that what they are going through is hard. They want to feel seen. A dismissal of their experience can feel devastating. If someone tells you they are in crisis, believe them! 

Things to say:

• I know this might be hard/scary to share.

• This must be hard to navigate.

• Grief and anger is perfectly normal.

• I am proud of you. That must have been really hard.

Reassurance: 

It is tragic to me when people’s relationships fracture due to a shift in faith, especially in families. Of course there needs to be lots of grace — we will not do things perfectly. But one thing that I think is important is to reassure the other person that you still love them. The people on the other side (whatever side that is in your case) probably need to be reassured that you love them as much as you want to be reassured that they love you. 

Things to say:

• I love you for you

• I trust you

• I am proud of you for listening to your heart

• You are still a good person

• Religion doesn’t determine my love for you. 

• I am so glad you are prioritizing your mental health

• That doesn’t change anything about our relationship

• Our love is not contingent upon your beliefs

• We will still be best friends!

*Note: one of the worst things you can do is to add a “but” onto your “I love you”. “I love you, but…” stings. 

Giving Permission (to take your time, to question, etc.):

Salvation can feel like a now-or-never situation. However, we do need to acknowledge that time was developed by humans. God’s ways is not our ways, and God’s time is not our time. When I first started questioning, I thought that I could have it all figured out in 6 months. Two+ years later, and I keep realizing how much there is to learn and consider. Growth is a process. It’s nice when people in your life give permission for you to take your time with these really important and really personal beliefs. “I know that my choices can be hard for you. Take the time you need to process,” might go a long way with family members or friends who are having a hard time with your changes in beliefs. 

Some things you can say:

• It takes time to process, there is no deadline or finish line

• You can take it at whatever pace you want

• There will be some days where you believe more and other days where you believe less. It’s okay. 

• It’s OK to question and do your research

Curiosity without judgment (+ duct tape listening):

Things like religious beliefs are so personal and ever-shifting that it can be hard to talk about if you’re still in the ~processing~ stage. But if you’re genuinely curious about something, it can be helpful to create that opening.

But before you ask about specific beliefs that person might still have, it may be helpful to consider why you are asking the questions. Is it to ultimately bear your testimony? Is it to prove the person wrong? Is it to trap them? Is it so that you can share what you think? Or do you genuinely want to know and are willing to listen?

Duct tape listening is something I have been practicing lately. I ask a question, and then I listen! Groundbreaking, right?! Duct tape listening means you ask a question, put an imaginary duct tape over your mouth, and count in your head to thirty. Sometimes people need time to process and respond. Even when you think they’re done responding, keep the duct tape on! They might say more! It might blow your mind about how much you can learn when you intently listen. 

In the past,  I felt fear in asking people the “why” behind their decision to leave the Church. I didn’t think I could handle the answer. Everyone is different, but I think opening yourself up to people who think differently than you is a crucial life skill. You might also consider asking yourself, “What am I afraid of?”

It can feel threatening to our worldview to let people in who are different than us. But the truth is, there are people who are different than us, and we need to learn to let them in. Especially if they are your family.

Some things you can say:

• Tell me what that experience has been like for you.

• I’d love to hear more about your journey.

• How can I best support you? 

• Do you feel comfortable talking about your beliefs?

I just want to say that the grief on both sides — the believing side, and the doubting side — is real, and true, and needs to be acknowledged as such. 

It’s helpful to remember that we are all grieving in some way.

Maybe this is why it felt so good to have my friend in Taiwan burst into tears and throw her arms around me when I said I was questioning my faith. She didn’t look at me and see my anger or my doubt. She saw it all for what it was — grief. A grief for my past life that she and I both knew that I could not return to (at least not in the same way as I had before). 

For the people we know we love and we know we want to keep in our life — siblings, cousins, neighbors, children, friends, parents — there might be parts of the relationship that we need to let go of in order to bring new life in. 

So, when it comes to navigating these tricky dynamics, we might need to let go of some control, yes. Some expectations, yes. But the exciting part of it all is that by letting some things die, we are making room for new things to be born. 

It’s part of that Life/Death/Life cycle. There are things in our life that dies, and it’s necessary. The leaves on the trees turn brown and crisp and fall, and when they disintegrate into the earth, they create a fertile soil for life to come again. Year after year. Mother Nature is a great teacher, isn’t She?

Happy Sunday. Thanks for reading,