Once our narrators worked through anxiety and appreciated that returning was a real possibility, the way they describe their next steps often indicates that they seemed to need a kind of implied “permission” from an external source to come back.
by Sarah d’Evegnée
POSSIBILITY: In conjunction with the feelings of shame and anxiety, many of them indicated that their reconversion was dependent on whether being able to come back was a real possibility.
As our narrators began their Reconversion Process and started to increase their faith in God, there is a dramatic shift in the way they talk about not only themselves, but their potential for change. The language employed by many of our narrators shows a close link between what they perceive as a possibility and what they allowed themselves to believe about both themselves and their faith. It is almost as if the language itself creates a gap between where they are and where they will be as they describe themselves and what they feel that they are allowed to do.
Often, the narrators seem to perceive an almost invisible wall between what they feel they “can” or “can’t” do because of their decision to leave the Church. Even though no one had told them that they couldn’t come back, the perceived limitation is very real.
Often, the narrators seem to perceive an almost invisible wall between what they feel they “can” or “can’t” do because of their decision to leave the Church. Even though no one had told them that they couldn’t come back, the perceived limitation is very real. The use of the repeated words “can’t” and “couldn’t” illustrates how powerful their perceptions were. These perceptions were either limiting or empowering depending on what they “could” or “couldn’t” do. The use of “can” and can’t” rhetorically is referred to as a “modal auxiliary verb” in which the action or verb that follows the modal verb is conditionally linked to the auxiliary verb or given “modality.” For example, one woman refers to “people who were always there to make sure that I didn’t go so far over the side that I couldn’t be brought back.” In this case, “being brought back” is linked to the “couldn’t” in what’s called “epistemic modality.” The language indicates how the act of coming back is perceived to be largely theoretical rather than something real or factual. In other words, coming back will only become a fact or a reality when it is given the ability to happen or when it is allowed to happen. This type of language also shows that often they felt that they needed to see the possibility for change before they would actually change. In another example, Oviatt admits that, “It had been a dream of mine to be sealed in the house of the Lord. However, I did not think that was possible anymore.”
In Misty’s case, she repeats the phrase “I couldn’t do this” as she contemplates her return to faith. Her own ability to act is so linked to what she sees as her potential choices that she almost seems bound by her self-doubt. If there are no possibilities, there are no actions. However, the language in her narrative suddenly shifts to an emphatic “I CAN do this” once she starts attending church meetings again. She says. “I was there because, through Him, I still could be” (emphasis added). Notice that these descriptive words focus on an action that is conditional, something that is allowed as a new possibility that wasn’t previously available. As Kevin describes his faith transition, it’s interesting to observe how he describes prayer as a possibility rather than something he does or doesn’t do: “[T]he one major thing I walked away with—from my upbringing and the gospel is—“Hey, I can pray!” (emphasis added). For many of them, simply perceiving that a return was possible precipitated the actual act of returning.
Peka makes a clear connection between perceiving that there was a possibility to start attending church again and actually being able to act on that perception. In her narrative she says, “perhaps there was a place in the church for her” (30). The word “perhaps” again emphasizes the conditional state of how she viewed whether she could come back to Church again. Allyson describes how “what eventually pulled me back was just knowing that I had a path to go back to. I wasn’t cut off.” Pay special attention to the phrase “just knowing.” Apparently Allyson needed more than just positive feelings about her reconversion. She needed the cognitive affirmation that came from “knowing” there was a possible “path” before she would be willing to take that path.
And once again, these words underscore the need for us to share Reconversion Narratives as a way for people to see that people can return, they should return, and they do indeed return.
As angry as she was about the things that had caused her to leave the Church, Tami wonders, “Is anyone too far gone to come back?” and describes scoured the internet for stories of people who had returned to Church activity. When she “couldn’t find anybody who left the Church and became an anti-Mormon and came back” she implies that knowing that others may have returned to the Church would have allow her to see her own possible return. And once again, these words underscore the need for us to share Reconversion Narratives as a way for people to see that people can return, they should return, and they do indeed return.
While faith is surely “is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,” as Paul says in Hebrews 11:1, it seems that often our ability to act on our faith may also be based on what we think may or may not be possible. These examples show us the important significance of helping people who have lost their faith or who have left the Church to know that coming back is always a real possibility. If people who have left the Church have become blinded by their own self-doubt or by their own limited vision of available choices for themselves, it may be up to other Church members to help them catch a glimpse of new, more hopeful options. They need to know and see for themselves that they don’t have to stay in the place they had once chosen. God will always reach out an encouraging hand and will allow us infinite possibilities for change, but sometimes we can’t see it for ourselves. As the Savior Himself said, “With God all things are possible” (Matthew 29:26).
Permission: Because there is often a sense of personal guilt about certain choices, it sometimes creates a need to be forgiven for doubting and a need for something or someone to give them permission to return.
Once our narrators worked through anxiety and appreciated that returning was a real possibility, the way they describe their next steps often indicates that they seemed to need a kind of implied “permission” from an external source to come back. Even though all of our narrators had chosen to step away from Church activity, most of them did not officially resigned from the Church. And yet they still felt that someone or something needed to open the door for them and allow them to come back. Often this permission came in the form of a “welcome” from a leader, family members, or other members.
It seems that regardless of the intensity of the feelings that may have caused them to leave the church, some kind of perceived permission was needed for them to return, either from a leader, family member, or God. In many cases this shift in perception was caused by a positive feeling that was instigated from an external source. In some cases the external source was a friend, a family member, a ward member, or a church leader. In many other cases the external source was directly from the Spirit or God. In some way, it seems that there needed to be a positive external manifestation to open the door. Sometimes this permission came in the form of a bishop’s love or sometimes it comes in the form of God forgiving them, but there is a shift in their perception of the possibility of return when an eternal source gives them this kind of permission. This shift in their perception offered them a possibility to return, and often they were surprised and heartened at this possibility.
The perception at times is that even to come back to church there has to be some measurable sense of “goodness.” Despite the fact that some worry that others might not think they’re “good” unless they return to Church, there is sometimes an irony of perceiving that their own goodness is connected to how they feel about the Church.
The need to perceive a possibility to return to full activity in the Church is sometimes connected with feelings of guilt. This apparent guilt and shame over leaving often created a need to have either direct or implied permission from someone else before they felt like they could return. And this permission then creates a possibility that they hadn’t seen before. However, for many of our narrators, they felt like they had to be “worthy” or “good enough” to receive this permission. Interestingly, as Letitia describes why she waited for several years to even set foot in a Church building after she had stopped attending Church, she says, “perhaps I didn’t feel worthy.” Worthy just to attend Church again? The perception is that even to come back to church there has to be some measurable sense of “goodness.” Joe Tippets describes how “important people in my life would never think I was good unless/until I returned to the church” and adds “you have to be a Mormon to be good.” The apparent Catch 22 is heartbreaking here, especially if one becomes entrenched in the worldview that goodness would come from activity in the Church but that activity in the Church might not be a possibility. Misty says, “I literally could not believe in the Church anymore” but then repeats the telling phrase “wasn’t good enough” three times. It’s clear that she needed something or someone to help her close this gap between what she felt that she was “good enough” to do and what she “could do.” The perception at times is that even to come back to church there has to be some measurable sense of “goodness.” Despite the fact that some worry that others might not think they’re “good” unless they return to Church, there is sometimes an irony of perceiving that their own goodness is connected to how they feel about the Church.
The sense of guilt associated with their experience often seems to create a need to be forgiven for doubting as well as a need for something or someone to give them permission to return. When considering her potential return to church, Letitia says, “I guess I was feeling that perhaps I would be judged, that people wouldn’t welcome me back.” Again, the apparent guilt and shame over leaving seems to create a need to be “welcomed back” as a form of permission, to know that she belonged at Church.
What often made them feel like they needed to stop attending Church was their perception of how certain Church policies or practices made them feel unwelcome, frustrated, or personally attacked. And often these external negative feelings were mitigated or even healed because of internal experiences with God that allowed them to connect or to reconnect with Him.
It seems that many of our narrators needed some kind of positive external manifestation to open the door for them. Sometimes this permission came in the form of a bishop’s love or sometimes it comes in the form of God forgiving them, but in each instance, the receipt of this permission seemed to coincide with a shift in their perception of the possibility of return – especially when an eternal source gives them this kind of permission. This shift in their perception offered them a possibility to return, and often they were surprised at this possibility – along with the welcome received from other active members. On the other hand, if they perceive that they could possibly fit in or belong, it also leaves the door open for them to return if they sense that they are “welcome” to come back.
What often made them feel like they needed to stop attending Church was their perception of how certain Church policies or practices made them feel unwelcome, frustrated, or personally attacked. And often these external negative feelings were mitigated or even healed because of internal experiences with God that allowed them to connect or to reconnect with Him. In some of the narratives, God isn’t mentioned in any part of the deconversion process. However, in almost every narrative, accounts of the reconversion process emphasize a new or rekindled relationship with God. There is a beautiful simplicity in the fact that love from God would help them feel like they could change their perception of not only themselves, not only God, but also of the Church. Even as Sam Brown says the words, “Oh God” he begins to feel something that affects not only his heart but his very perceptions. He says, “For the first time in my memory, my mind was entirely clear. . . Love without direction or restriction.” Notice that Sam uses the words “memory” and “mind” to indicate how connected his cognition and his perceptions are to his emotions. Almost instinctively, Brenna felt that her ability to act was connected to how she perceived that God felt about her. She admits, “I needed a relationship with my Heavenly Father.” Notice that her language highlights a “need” rather than simply a desire. And this need was connected with the steps Brenna felt she could take next. Once she established this relationship with deity, she no longer felt that she couldn’t be rebaptized and she was rebaptized within weeks.
Many of our narrators were overwhelmed by God’s love because of the way that it changed their perceptions and their ability to change. Rachel says, “I was overcome to tears by the love I personally felt from my Heavenly Father.” Just as Rachel describes being “overcome,” many narrators seemed genuinely surprised by this love, almost as if they felt that they didn’t deserve it or weren’t worthy of it. For example, Christiane says, “Given my past mistakes, I couldn’t believe he valued my soul that much.” Jamie says, “I am grateful that Heavenly Father did not give up on me.” Once again, this disbelief or surprise compellingly illustrates how the gap between perceived possibilities and their reality needed to be closed by a shift in their perception.
These intense feelings of unconditional love, seemed to offer our narrators permission to believe that they could change, that they could rewrite their story. The doors of faith that had been previously perceived as being shut or even locked, suddenly seemed to burst open, to offer a sense of welcome and of belonging that hadn’t been felt before. Jonathan describes how “My heart was filled with God’s love for me.” Joe remembers hearing this message from God: “I am God. I am real, And I love you.” Again, this sense of shame and guilt yields a sense of surprise that God could still love, almost as if they felt that their doubts and questions made it so they didn’t deserve love anymore. Tina says, “I have this incredible relationship with the Lord.” And then she adds: “The Lord loves me” (Tina 20)
Once the perceived permission was given in the form of a welcoming person at Church or an overwhelming feeling of approval from God, it then created a possibility that our narrators hadn’t been able to see before. Leo Winegar’s relationship with a college religion professor is the key to what opened his eyes about the possibility of return. He says about his professor, “Dr. Harper gave me what I needed most.” Even though Leo’s concerns were grounded in intellectually-based questions, his description becomes more specific about what he “needed most.” Leo says this about reading the professor’s email: “As I read, I felt his genuine love.” This is especially fascinating when you look at one of Leo’s statements about why he left the church: “I sometimes felt alone at church, where it seems like no one has seen what I’ve seen.”
It is particularly striking that it is rarely answers to their specific questions or research about the topics that concerned them that met their perceived needs. It was love. . . It seems that they needed love and personal validation to offer them a kind of permission to continue forward on the transformative journey of their faith.
As with Leo’s story, in many of the other narratives it is this feeling of loneliness or lack of belonging that seems to be one of the most significant emotions in the narrative. This loneliness is reflected throughout some narratives, steeping the stories in a kind of sadness, a kind of grief. However, once an external connection is made or once a perceived message of welcome is made, the person feels that they can even give themselves permission to come back to the Church. It is particularly striking that it is rarely answers to their specific questions or research about the topics that concerned them that met their perceived needs (although sometimes it was). It was most often love. And this sense of love, this sense of belonging causes not only their tone and their description to shift dramatically, but this is the point in the narrative when the action shifts as well. As Kevin tenderly describes, “I just felt so much love and so much light.” Narrators who had previously been surrounded by doubts about the Church and doubts about themselves suddenly become aware of fresh possibilities and positive feelings about both themselves and their faith. In so many cases, it seems that they needed love and personal validation to offer them a kind of permission to continue forward on the transformative journey of their faith.
