Spiritual Warfare

An essay by Anne Brenchley

"You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes matter of life and death to you." -- C. S. Lewis

Growing up in a faithful family from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, meant a few things. By the time I could walk, I knew who God was and that He loved me. By the time I could form sentences, I knew who Joseph Smith was and that God picked him to be special. By the time I was eight, I could speak in front of congregations about why I loved Jesus. By the time I was twelve, I had picked out which temple I would be married in and had a list of required attributed of my future husband.

I had been spoon fed these truths, but it wasn't until I grew older that I decided to look into why I believed these things.

By the time I was twenty two, I had nearly completed the Perfect Christian Girls checklist. I had served a mission for my church, got married to a beautiful perfect man, and we had started our lives together at the Lord's School, Brigham Young University. By this time my parents had reached the highest local church callings, and I was the family and community star that everyone looked up to. My future could be painted in a single frame. My white family dressed in white clothes in front of the white temple hanging on a  white mantle. A glowing, pure, incandescent future. All I had to do was completely devote my life, family, talents, and money to the Church. I was promised a near perfect life in return. 

My husband and I started our life in a condo in downtown Salt Lake City during the damned year of 2020. It brought fires, earthquakes, pestilences, and a few plagues. One being Covid-19, and the other being division among the people for racism, police brutality, women's rights, mask mandates, and the most disappointing election in American History. None of these things really bothered me or my family because the Church always provided a statement that explained where our beliefs stood amidst the disagreement. Because of agency, we could pray and receive confirmation that it was true. Or if you didn't get that answer, you just had to keep praying and look for what commandment you missed that week.

After weeks of riots and looting and aggressive threats on social media, people started attacking my church, my school, and my country. Enough to make me notice the cracks in my rock solid foundation. People were tearing down statues of the founding fathers, calling them racist bigots who should be erased from history. Stores that lined the historic downtown streets were looted and burned to the ground in the name of George Floyd  and “All Cops Are Bastards”. 

Videos started circulating the internet casting tarr and feathers on my church and its founders. Quotes from past leaders showing their racist prejudice and harassment. It was a list of names that I recognized, that were canonized in buildings on my campus, followed by their list of sins that would make anyone cringe in disbelief. The Lord's school was under attack by the uncomfortable truth. 

Brigham Young (Prophet) established slaveholding in Utah saying “The negro… should serve the seed of Abraham; he should not be a ruler, nor vote for men to rule over me nor my brethren… Any person that mingles with [the seed of Canaan] forfeits the right to rule and all the blessings of the Priesthood of God.” (Joanna Brooks)

Joseph Smith (Founder/ Prophet) testified on multiple accounts that he was “met by an angel with a flaming sword” who commanded him to practice plural marriage. (Brian C Hales)

All of these were people whose names I had respected and honored, and learned about in their buildings on campus. The skeletons hid by the beautiful truths of our doctrine were now attacking my knowledge like the walking dead. My church given mantras to keep me strong were no longer working. “Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith” (Uchtdorf, 2013)  dismissed the ugly truths that I felt needed to be seen and discussed. “Look unto me in every thought; Doubt not fear not” (D&C 6:36) felt like it was telling me to ignore these things. 

Is there a line where history overpowers faith? 

At what point do we accept the piles of evidence that knock down the protective walls of our beliefs? Are we just not supposed to do research about things outside of our church-provided sources? If we are only supposed to use our agency to do research within the bounds of Church resources, we will never find unbiased truth. 

I doubted if I could rely on a church organization that had so many skeletons in the closet. I had never felt so internally unstable, wondering if my one constant through life, the thing that gave me standards and a sense of stability, was false. This worry affected me every single day, and kept me in misery hour after hour. I became angry and unstable in a way that I couldn't escape. I was quiet at work, smiling and handing flowers to customers while in a heated argument with myself. 

Why would God send an angel to Joseph commanding him to marry and be intimate with multiple women, but not bat an eye when Brigham was blatantly attacking Black people?

Did God really intend for the church to be white?

How can I believe in this God that valued plural marriage that destroyed families and didnt care to say anything about slavery?

It made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure how to address this information. I wanted to sweep it under the rug, but I knew that would eventually create monsters that haunted me. I had to deal with it by myself, as part of the unspoken church code is to never disclose any doubts you have. I started spiraling into the guilt that I was the problem. The Church Leaders will never blatantly say this, but you grow to accept that any doubt that you have is from your own sins. The accusations grew like a hurricane in my brain.

Maybe my testimony is struggling because I am not praying consistently or hard enough.

It's my fault because maybe I am not studying the scriptures like I should.

 These were things I had heard in people's testimonies growing up, who said that it was their fault for not feeling the spirit. It was their fault because they weren't “holding up their end of the deal with God”. These were the fall back statements that excused any ugly or uncomfortable discrepancies in church history. 

But was I the person to be mad at? I never went looking for trouble, I just had questions about important people who shaped my life. There was so much I didn't know. The issue wasn't the “new information”; it was that I had been believing the impressive facade without knowing there were rotting bones that held it up. I felt so betrayed. I loved the church. It had raised me and provided clarity. Throughout all of my trials and bad days in life, no matter where I went, it was my constant. It was a rock that I relied on. 

One night while talking with my husband in bed, he started explaining his frustration with his religion class. He is one who will read old church documents and study the evolution of church policies for light recreational reading. Some might say he knows more than what is good for him. At first his theories and propositions made me uncomfortable. I did not like to entertain the idea of the church that raised me not being true. It made me physically sick. He would explain that there is controversy in the human side of Church History. Like the different ideas of Joseph Smith translating the Book of Mormon with seer stones and a hat. Old church leaders called it blasphemy and erased evidence of it before coming back a few decades later to officially publish the facts, acting like they had never previously denied the evidence. 

Before my shifted mindset, I would attempt to reason with him, mentioning that sometimes we have to sit with uncomfortable ideas that the Lord has not revealed to us yet. The classic “Line upon line, precept upon precept”(2 Nephi 28:30). But this isn't something the Lord needed to reveal, it's just something that his prophets covered up.

This dialogue went on for a few hours. Never yelling, but a tense debate of searching for and disproving faith. He held me tight, as he does when having hard conversations, as if to protect me. He wasn't fighting back. Instead, he looked at me tenderly, with teary eyes and asked 

“Anne, If the church wasn't true, wouldn't you want to know?” 

This question shook me in true fear, as I pictured my perfect future family hanging on the mantle. I hid my response in laughter with a guilty “Probably not?!” I had never been given the permission to entertain the idea. I was always just taught to be blindly faithful.

Learning about things that had been hidden from me in order to portray a more ideal history left me hurt and betrayed on a level I had never experienced. It left me wondering what else had been hidden, and doubting if the truths that had built my foundation were even true.

I could see my future beginning to quake at the thought. The beautiful picture of my family shattering to the floor. My parents grieving my lost faith as if I had died, wondering what they did in their parenting to make me go astray. Going inactive would impact my entire community and taint the reputation of my family. Neighbors who admired my parents would question their leadership, and doubt their faith. It would break my sisters hearts, who decided by my influence that they also wanted to serve a mission. To my cousins, my name would be a whispered swear word and a bad example. My inlaws would question my marriage, wondering who first became unfaithful and ruined the testimony of the other.

I entered into a vicious tug of war with my spiritual self. After serving a mission and representing Christ for 18 months, I had seen miracles. I had seen first hand the love that God shares with his children. I had seen hearts opened and lives changed for the better, because strangers I met on the street decided to open up their hearts to God and allow themselves to be healed. 

So do my questions discredit the validity of my positive experiences? I don't think so. Does this mean that I lead hundreds of people into a life of deception? Well, I hope not. What I have come to understand is that God is at the head of the church, but he chose mere humans to lead it. This never was Joseph Smith's church, nor was it ever Brigham Young’s, despite the many buildings and foundations bearing their names. This has always been seen as a church directed by God, using his prophets on the earth.

There are a few truths that I hold in support of the church that keep me testing my faith rather than abandoning it. I know for a fact that the Church will always guide me to do good things, and make me a better person. I know that there is a God, and I know that he allows us to have doubt and imperfections. History shows that he still trusts them though, to do His work. I also know that the power of God acts on this earth through the priesthood, for it has healed me of my own pains, and weaknesses.

God tells us in James 1:5 of the Bible, “If any of ye lack wisdom, let him ask of God.” We are allowed to have questions. Being inspired to learn is one of God's greatest gifts to mankind. But where there are gaps in history or doctrine, that is where our faith steps in. If we only believed in a religion based on the cold hard facts, we would never find a relationship with God. Our relationship with Him relies on our faith. 

I wish I could say that after reflecting on this, my crisis has been solved. The classic “I doubted my faith and miraculously found it again while doing service and frosting temple-shaped cookies.” This is the story we expect. This is the narrative that pacifies us and makes us feel warm inside on Sunday mornings. But that just isn't realistic. The culture of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is to find the lost sheep, guide them back to the flock, and gather Israel. But this is something that dropped off cookies and a personal text from Bishop can’t fix. While those are nice sentiments that make someone feel loved, it’s like putting a bandaid on a bullet wound.

The insecurity and loneliness I have felt run deeper than a superficial cut or bruise. And before I become anyone's “project”, I want to be allowed to sit in the discomfort and navigate through this on my own. I want to be allowed to have questions about legitimate concerns without my family and community assuming I am going to shave my head and join the Satanic church. I would like the permission to receive the wrong answers without guilt. Because although I question many things, I still believe in God. 

I will not be ashamed of looking for the truth, and searching for clarity because of my desire to learn more. If the Church is true, then what is anyone worried about? If the Church is true, then I should be allowed to ask questions and explore doctrine. If the Church is true, that would be absolutely wonderful. But if it’s not, then wouldn’t you want to know? 

Photo Credit: 

Salt Lake Temple- Wikipedia Commons

Welcome Riots- a photo by the author

Brigham Young Bust- Wikipedia Commons

Jose of Adjuntas- a photo by the author

Temple Construction- LDS News