BYU Students Deliver LGBT Peers a Message of Hope--and Love

Last week members of BYU’s USGA (Understanding Same Gender Attraction) organization produced a video featuring LGBT BYU students talking openly about the struggle they face as gay Mormons. What’s profound here is the honesty with which these students talk about issues that we as Mormons don’t normally approach: depression and suicidal thoughts.

One vital way to keep LGBT Mormon youth from reaching this critical point is to help parents and extended communities recognize how their behavior affects LGBT youth. The Family Acceptance Project has produced the first LDS-based materials to help families and communities understand what helps gay kids, and what increases their risk for depression and suicide. These materials—which you can download free online—are the first faith-based suicide prevention resources to be named as a Best Practice by The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. They artfully blend rigorous scientific research with the best parts of Mormon faith—the part that teaches us to love unconditionally, like our Savior loves.

It’s no secret that the LGBT youth suicide rate in Utah is well above the norm, and while talking openly about the isolation and other factors that contribute to those numbers is becoming a bit more common, what I like is the students have done a remarkable job of overshadowing the bleak times with a powerful message of hope. To hear this message from our peers is a big step, and an encouraging one.

I spoke with Adam White of USGA at BYU this weekend, and we talked in depth about the video. With his permission, I’m reposting part of that conversation.

Mitch: I think your video is a good one—and I admire the honesty of those who spoke. One of the most striking moments is one student’s candor about a disturbing lesson we’re all taught as gay Mormons: that being gay is a mortal experience and upon leaving this life, each of us is released from the bondage of being gay and is made straight. Like the student in the clip, many gay Mormons (including me) don’t find this to be comforting. In fact, I’ve heard from many who look at as the opposite: it’s almost an incentive to want to take their own lives.

Adam: I had never thought about that teaching in that way before, and I remember the first time I heard it, it perplexed me. It still does. I don’t know of any Mormon precedent or scriptural basis about our orientation disappearing in the afterlife—for gay people or straight. What’s troubling to me is we’re sending our youth that message often in the very moments they’re most vulnerable. I think it warps the way we see ourselves as gay Mormons to believe we’ll be someone else when we leave here. At its worst, it could very well leave depressed and suicidal gay Mormons with the message that is best to die.

Mitch: But the video also stresses something I’ve said for a long time: the importance of our own individual relationship with our Savior. I know from experience that our Savior is our constant companion—he know us personally and walks right beside us in this life, if we let Him. Your video sends a great message to gay Mormons to remind them of that fact. And I’d take it a step further and remind them that despite messages about our worth here or eternally, or any other message that damages our understanding of ourselves in the eyes of our Savior, that relationship belongs solely to us. It is as deep and meaningful as we choose to make it. We have not only the personal power to build that relationship, but the right to do so—whether or not we’re active inside the Mormon faith.

Adam: I agree! At the center of our Gospel is Christ—and our personal relationship with Him. This is one of the most powerful messages for me personally—if we think about the atonement and that Christ knows what it’s like to be LGBT—the stigma, the isolation, the rejection. This message alone brings hope to many who feel like no one understands what they’re going through. But our Savior does—he’s lived it personally. Knowing that our older brother has walked this before us, so he can not only empathize but help, I think there is so much hope here. When we remember what our Savior has experienced, we find healing, we find compassion—sometimes when it feels impossible to find that from any human. The hope of our Savior was at the center of our minds as we made this video.

Mitch: One of the questions I always get is people wondering how I reconcile standing for the LGBT community and still being Mormon. What do you say when you hear that question?

Adam: Well, I know from personal experience it’s difficult to be in that space between two communities that have been at odds for very powerful reasons on both sides. And at the same time, I recognize and respect my identity, and I also love my faith. I believe in the potential we have as Mormons to do good in this world, to be compassionate, and to be examples of our Savior. Being a gay Mormon and seeing the other side of our faith—those who have been cast out for simply being who they are—that’s hard to watch. To see Mormonism, which has been so good to me, actually do harm to people that I know and love has deeply affected me. Because I recognize our potential as a religion to do better, I don’t think I’ll ever walk away. But I also fully recognize the gifts our Father has given to us as LGBT people, and I firmly believe once we embrace our gay brothers and sisters their strength will add to our own, and as a whole we’ll be much closer to Zion.

Mitch: One of the things I grapple with is gay Mormon youth who live outside the country. It seems in the past few months alone I’ve gotten dozens of emails and messages from gay Mormons in their teens or early twenties, and they feel especially isolated. It hurts my heart to hear their stories—and quite frankly, I fear for some of them. When they’re in the states, it’s easier for me to help find others near them, but when they’re in the Philippines, China, or South and Central America our options are so much more limited in terms of the kind of support we can offer them. What would you say to them?

Adam: Wow…the first thing I would do is to let them know I recognize how difficult it is to be in that situation. My heart goes out to them—and I fully understand how hopeless it might seem. I’ve been blessed personally; even at BYU I have a community of support. But I would remind my gay Mormon brothers and sisters outside the country that our Savior loves them, exactly as they are—despite what others might say. And I would say to them that these videos were made for them. Your brothers and sisters here in America and at BYU—we know you’re out there. We love you. We want you to stay with us—we need you. So does your Savior.

Mitch: I’ve gone on record to say that historically we haven’t done a very good job in the way we treat and understand the LGBT community as Mormons. The same is true of LGBT people within our own ranks. I think we fall far short of where our Savior wants us to be. That’s one of the things I’ve worked to change over the past few years—kind of holding up a mirror to my Mormon fellows, and allowed them to see the reality of some of their behavior. Some of them haven’t really liked what they’ve seen. What would be your ultimate dream when it comes to LGBT people inside the Church?

Adam: I’m still kind of forming that dream, I think. But a good place to start would be complete open-door inclusivity for gay Mormons—the kind of inclusivity that Christ stood for and taught. I think it would be great to one day have gay couples at church with their own families, in our meetings and our activities, and have no one even think twice about it. I think we need to recognize that the way LGBT people struggle within their faith comes from a place of love. Meaning, they aren’t just upstarts who are trying to be inconvenient. These are children of our Father who deeply love this religion and want to stay precisely because of their profound love of our Savior, and of the gospel.

Mitch: I couldn’t agree more. And I think that’s why gay Mormons belong most of all.

God's Strategy

Friends- 

Special guest post by my good friend and one of our Stake High Councimen, Matt Mosman. I've posted some of his writing here before, and like earlier talks, this one doesn't disappoint. 

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! 

________________________________________________________

Good morning, brothers and sisters.  Always a pleasure to see so many of my friends here in the El Camino Ward. 

A few months ago one of our other high councilmen, Rob Hansen, cornered me after a meeting and said, “I’ve got your talks figured out.”  He proceeded to tell me that his observation is that I always take the assigned topic and draw the slimmest analogy to whatever it is I wanted to talk about, but in the end I always talk about whatever I feel like.

Rob is exactly right.  I’ve been doing that for years, I’m afraid, and he caught me.  So today I’m going to do this differently: I’m going to dispense with the analogy, I’m going to beg forgiveness of the stake presidency, and I’m going to talk about what I want to talk about.  I have something that’s been on my mind.

A couple of months ago I was in a ward in another state and overheard a conversation going on in the hallway of the church.  Some men and women were discussing what they thought should be done about a gay man who had started coming back to church.

The conversation was all about rules: what he could do, what he couldn’t.  It then turned for a while into the members’ own interactions with him: what if one of them was assigned to home teach him?  What if he invited them over to dinner?  What if he has a partner?  What then?

This particular issue is one I’ve been thinking about for years.  When I was called to the high council, I was called to serve in the Bay Ward up in the city.  That ward’s rolls are full to the brim with mostly inactive gay men and women, and it was my specific job to work on how we could minister to them.

If we want to talk about that hallway conversation, we could definitely take this talk in the direction of “he that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone.”  For sure we could talk about that, and we all know that every one of us had better drop the rocks in our hands if we’re going to talk about that.  But that’s not where I’m going.  I want to take this in a different direction, just a little bit.  I want to talk about rules.  I want to talk about the Good Samaritan.

I think that those people in that church hallway were asking the same question that the lawyer asked Jesus in Luke Chapter 10: “Who is my neighbor?” 

Happily, this means that Jesus gave them a fairly direct answer.  Here is what is says:

And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.

 And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.

And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.

The priest and Levite both know better.  They work in the temple; they would know that Leviticus 19:34 says that if you see a stranger in need, you do whatever it takes to meet his need.  Exodus chapter 23:4-5 says if you find even your enemy's donkey astray, you make sure you rescue the man's donkey, let alone the man.  The priest would have taught this; the Levite surely would have known it.  They would surely have known the sayings of the prophet Micah, who said on behalf of God, "He has told you, O man, what is good.  What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?"  Both the priest and the Levite would have known all of that.

But they also knew some rules.  The stranger might have been dead, and it is forbidden for someone who serves in the temple to touch a dead body.  If either of them did, he would have to undergo a lengthy purification ritual.  The man sure looked dead -- Jesus said that the thieves had left him half-dead, and it could have been hours since then.  The priest and Levite knew the rules, and they kept the rules.  And in this instance, the rules meant more to them than compassion did.  They did not see the injured man as their neighbor; they saw him as a problem.

And now the story has its twist.  In verse 33:

But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was:

If we know anything of Jewish/Samaritan relations, this is likely to be the worst possible thing to

happen to the injured man.  We assume the injured man is a Jew because this is Israel and a certain man in Israel would be a Jew -- so there lies this Jewish man.  And now into the story comes a Samaritan.  The assumption is that the Samaritan is not going to be any help at all, because the Samaritans and the Jews held each other in the most bitter contempt. 

Samaritans were of the tribes of Ephraim and Manasseh, and some claimed to be Levites.  After the Northern Kingdom was taken captive in the Babylonian Exile, Samaritans remained in the land, which was then taken over by Gentiles.  These Ephraimites and Manassehites who remained in the land intermarried with the Gentiles, for which they were despised and hated by their cousins because they had “sold their birthright” and (in the eyes of the Jews) polluted the pure strain of God's chosen people.  

How much were they despised?  When Israel, led by Nehemiah, came back from Babylonian captivity, they wanted to rebuild the wall.  The Samaritans showed up.  In Ezra Chapter 4, the Samaritans who showed up were referred to as “the adversaries of Judah and Benjamin,” but they still offered to help.  They went to Zerubbabel, and said, “Let us build with you, for we seek your God, as you do.”  They want to reconnect with their Jewish roots, and rejoin the family.

But Zerubbabel and Jeshua said, “Ye have nothing to do with us to build an house unto our God; but we ourselves will build.”  The bitterness was that deep.  So the Samaritans then turned to be their enemies, all the time the Jews are trying to build the wall, Samaritans try to prevent them from doing it, led by a man named Sanballat. 

Eventually the Samaritans built their own temple, on Mount Gerizim.  And in 128 B.C., a hundred and twenty-eight years before Jesus' birth, Jews from Jerusalem went and destroyed the Mount Gerizim temple and killed some of the Samaritans.

The animosity was profound.  Whenever a Jew traveled from north to south, or south to north, by far the easiest way would be to go through Samaria.  They never did -- they went around Samaria.  Nobody went through Samaria.  They wouldn't put the dirt of Samaria on their shoes, the hatred ran so deep.

And it cut both ways: a Samaritan was no more eager to interact with a Jew than a Jew was with a Samaritan.  This is important: the Samaritan has his own rules.  He’s not supposed to do what we all know he’s about to do.

and when he saw him, he had compassion on him...

This is where the Samaritan takes center stage in the story.  And here comes the main point: he puts aside all the rules and regulations and thinks of the big picture.  Samaritans are religious: the Samaritan religion claims to be the true Judaism.  So he must experience some of the same issues that the priest and Levite did:  He’s asking himself what the rules are, but he takes it just a little farther and asks himself, “Ultimately, what is the point of my religion?  What is the goal?  What is God trying to make of me?”

In my work we would say that he’s focused on the strategy and not the tactics.  Strategy is what executives think about: what are we trying to do as a business?  Who are we?  Tactics are the day-to-day activities that ideally are supposed to support the strategy.  But sometimes they don’t, and we have to watch that.  That’s really been my job as an executive in various businesses: to make sure that I’m keeping an eye on the big picture, and to ensure that the things that people are doing every day are keeping us on that path.

I hope you understand what I mean here.  I’m not saying that you don’t want to keep the rules, that you don’t want to follow the commandments.  That’s absolutely not what I’m trying to say.

But I also think that if you think of the scriptures as a rulebook, you are missing the entire point of religion.  God is trying to make something of you and me, and it’s worth asking ourselves, all the time, what He is trying to do.  It has something to do with kindness.  It has a lot to do with losing the temptation to judge others.  It is almost certainly about you and me learning to express love without putting conditions on that love.

Notice how the Samaritan loves.  His lack of conditions on that love is breathtaking, and the more you think about it, the more breath it takes away. 

First of all, he saw him, and he felt compassion.  This is where it all begins, something in his heart just goes out to the man, the way our hearts should ache for those who suffer around us -- a sadness, a grief, a sympathy, a driving need to rescue and recover the man. 

And so verse 34 says, "He came to him."  He doesn’t call up to him, ask him how he’s doing.  He goes to where the man is.  He evaluates him and gives careful attention to what's going to be required for his rescue and recovery.  He discovers that the man is alive, but has some wounds -- in Greek word is trauma. 

And so it says that after he came to him he bandaged up his wounds, and there is a lot of information there.  The scripture says that the man is naked, so whatever the Samaritan used for bandages came out of his own bag.  He used his own clothing.  You can picture that he starts tearing up his own clothes -- if not the ones he was wearing, then perhaps extras that he carried in his travel bag -- and he starts bandaging the man up. 

The scripture tells us that in the process of binding the wounds the Samaritan also pours in oil and wine.  Wine was used because of its fermentation as an antiseptic, and the oil would soothe and soften the damaged tissue.  The Samaritan wasn’t wandering around with a medicine bag.  He carried wine with him to drink on a long journey, and oil to cook with.  The Samaritan is divesting himself of his own clothing, and he's divesting himself of his own provisions. 

After doing his best to handle the man’s wounds, the Samaritan drapes the injured man over the back of his donkey and takes him to an inn, walking beside his living transportation, holding the man on to make sure he doesn't come off. 

After a time -- we don’t know how long, but it couldn’t have been around the block --, the Samaritan gets him to an inn.  This wasn’t Jerusalem; this was somewhere on a dangerous road between Jerusalem and Jericho.  An inn in a place like that would have been a meager place at best.  I wouldn’t suspect that the innkeeper was an honest man, though I guess he might have been.  Most weren’t.  But there was no choice here; the Samaritan needed to find a place to offer this man some rest and care, so he no doubt took whatever he could get.

And then the scripture says wonderfully, "And took care of him."  Having negotiated the place to stay, the Samaritan took the man in, put him down to rest, continued to work with him with his bandages, continued working with his wounds, provided food, sleep, comfort, water, cleansing.  And he did it all night.

How do we know that?  Well, because it says so in verse 35, "And on the next day..."  He stayed with him all night.  He set his whole agenda aside.  He gave up his own clothes, his own supplies, his own time.  This is amazing for a stranger who was his worst enemy.  And he stayed all night by his bed, making sure he was cared for.

And that wasn't all: in verse 35 it says, "On the next day he took out two pence and gave them to the innkeeper and said, 'Take care of him.'" Wanting to go on his journey the Samaritan now puts him in the care of an innkeeper, and gives the innkeeper two pence.  I spent a long time wondering, how much is two pence in those days?  So I looked it up and did a little math.  Sources from that day suggest that the cost of a night at a low-end inn in those days would have been about 1/32 of a pence.  So he gave him enough for something like two months worth of room and board.  Even if I’m wrong about it being meager and it’s a better place, the Samaritan left the innkeeper with somewhere between a month and two months worth of room and board for the injured man.

The story goes even further when the Samaritan says to the innkeeper in verse 35, "Take care of him and whatever more you spend, when I return I will repay you."  Now he has exposed himself to serious extortion.  Unbelievably, he's left an open account. 

The whole story is remarkable -- even more than we thought at first, isn’t it?  He stops.  He tears up his own clothes to use for bandages.  He uses his own provisions to speed healing, and then he pays for two months’ stay and leaves a blank check with the inn. 

There are two points to this story, I think:  First, that here is an example of boundary-less concern.  There was no end to what he would do, and there was not a moment’s concern for who this poor stranger was.  Didn’t matter that he was a Jew.  He could have been rich, poor, a good guy, or a bad one.  None of it mattered.  There was no holding back of his desire to bless.  It depended on nothing.

Second, and here is the point I’m trying to make: He let the principles, the big-picture things, rule over the little rules and regulations about how he was supposed to interact with Jews. 

So now go back with me to that hallway conversation: what is the answer to those who wonder whether they should accept the dinner invitation?  I’ve tried to figure out what their point is: are they trying to express their disapproval?  Is the condemnation of our brothers and sisters a gospel principle?  Is that what Jesus was trying to teach us?  Is that part of God’s strategy for you and me: that we become really good at expressing our disapproval of others?

It’s worth noting a couple of things about Jesus: first, that the primary thing that people in his day criticized him for, is that he hung out with the wrong crowd.  A prophet, they said, would find a better class of people for friends.  But Jesus was never very concerned about how things looked to others: he saw goodness in fishermen and tax collectors.

Second, it’s worth noting that Jesus really reserved His criticism for people like the Pharisees and Saducees who all shared the same trait: they became so wrapped up in following all the rules that they forgot to pay attention to whether or not they were becoming good people.

Brothers and Sisters: I know that this is the kind of talk that can be taken all wrong.  But you’re smart folks, and you’ll figure out how to take it correctly.  God has a strategy, a big picture, for you and for me -- and we should keep that always in the forefront of our minds.

So, do you take that dinner invitation?  Do you home teach without judgment and with real love?  Of course you do.  God’s strategy, His big picture for you and for me, asks us to open our arms wide to welcome, and our hearts all the way without reservation.

I leave these thoughts with you in the name of Jesus.  Amen.

Mormon march in San Francisco Pride 2013

We have come a long way. The Pride march itself is kind of symbolic for me as a Mormon. We have pioneer roots, and our history is rich with accounts of Mormons pulling together and marching with handcarts from place to place to find a location where we were free to be ourselves.

So it is with the Pride march. We put one foot in front of the other as a symbol of the steps we're taking to help ensure inclusion for our LGBT brothers and sisters. For the Pride march every year, we reach the completion of our short journey down Market Street in a little over an hour. But from a larger metaphoric sense, we're still marching on to that end--finding a place where everyone is safe to be their genuine self.

When will we reach the end of our journey? I don't know. But what I do know is that this is the journey our Savior wants us to be undertaking right now, and like the handcart stories of our ancestors, this one will also be filled with wonderful accounts about the kindness of friends we meet along the way.

So to the pioneers that marched yesterday--and those who joined with us in their hearts, enjoy the journey. I'm pretty sure our Savior wants us to do that, too.

Why Mormon support of the BSA decision is a good thing for gay Mormon youth

A repost of my recent article on Huffington Post. Enjoy.

When I was in first grade, I wasn’t so different from all the other Mormon boys in my class. Like them, I couldn’t wait for the bell to ring signaling the end of the school day. But unlike them, I didn’t run to the playground to toss the ball, or head to a friends house to hang out. I got home as quickly as I could, because right after school the local television station aired reruns of the original Star Trek series—and I had a great big school-boy crush on Captain James T. Kirk.

At six-years old, I lacked the vocabulary to be able to explain to anyone that I was gay, but my identity was formed nonetheless. All I knew was I liked the way my heart beat a little faster when Captain Kirk was in my life for that hour each day after school—and that Captain Kirk was the guy I wanted to give my first-grade Valentine to.

My story isn’t unique. As kids, straight or gay, each of us had someone who made our heart skip a beat. If you ask any adult, they can almost without fail tell you the name of their first crush. If it was a heterosexual crush, likely it was met with kind teases and coos from parents, friends, and other adults. But if it was a homosexual crush, it was questioned and shamed—and we were told we were confused, we didn’t understand, or that it was just a phase and it would pass.

“How could he know he’s gay? He’s never kissed a boy!” a parent commonly asks. And at the same time, a parent never thinks to ask the question, “How would he know he’s straight? He’s never even kissed a girl!” The simple truth is that neither of us has to kiss the object of our affection to know the direction our hearts point us. Our realities, gay or straight, are just the same.

This tendency to assume that children only correctly identify their sexual orientation if it’s heterosexual is common inside the Mormon culture—and extremely damaging. It instills in gay children an alarming amount of self-doubt: from an early age we are taught not to trust our own feelings. Worse, when we’re shamed for expressing feelings for someone of the same gender, we learn the misconception there’s something deeply wrong with us, and that has resounding implications for our health and mental health throughout our entire lives.

Recently, the Boy Scouts of America (BSA) announced its decision to support inclusive scouting for

gay youth, and the Mormon Church has come out publicly in support of that policy. By acknowledging—maybe for the first time—that gay kids can and do correctly identify their orientation, the Mormon Church is poised to make powerful changes to protect the health of young gay Mormon boys. As a Mormon faith, our footprint on this planet is large—and with it, comes a tremendous opportunity to do good. We have the chance to seize this opportunity to do the right thing, and show the world Mormon compassion and wisdom at its best.

And here’s how we can do it.

Last year, The Family Acceptance Project delivered a Mormon version of their evidence-based research materials that outlines both rejecting and accepting behaviors—and links those behaviors directly to rates of alcohol and drug use and abuse, STD infection, depression and suicide. These Mormon materials bear the “Best Practice” seal from the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, and are the only materials to have received this kind of national recognition and endorsement. Inside the booklet, Mormon families will find guidance that not only fits within the confines of our doctrine and beliefs, but actually reinforces the best parts of Mormonism: keeping our families happy, safe, and together.

The Family Acceptance Project research is not marketing based on focus groups. It is not speculation. It is not opinion—even ecclesiastical opinion. It is science. By integrating these materials into our spiritual curriculum and our vast social services programs, we can give LGBT Mormons and their families a lifeline of hope that has not existed before. We can step beyond the days where Mormon parents—many armed with good intentions but alarmingly little data—feel compelled to choose between their children and their church. Family relationships are a cornerstone to our faith as Mormons—and we’re taught that “No other success can compensate for failure in the home.” David O. McKay. The Family Acceptance Project materials have eliminated the illusion of that horrible Sophie’s Choice.

As a gay Mormon, and someone for whom scouting was just as much a right of passage in my youth as my church activities, this gives me hope for the generations that follow me. While the BSA announcement isn’t perfect, the decision—and the Mormon Church’s endorsement of it—opens the door to help keep our gay youth safer and happier than ever before. If we make the most of this moment, we have a chance to build a healthier generation of Mormons who are better equipped to follow God’s second great commandment: to love one another—for who we genuinely are.

Congratulations, BSA. Now let's keep going.

On Thursday, May 23, Boy Scouts of America decided to lift a ban on openly gay scouts that had been in place throughout the organization’s 103-year history.

I'm pleased that the BSA decided to approve the measure to lift the ban on gay scouts. Like the steps the Mormon Church has taken in recent months, it is encouraging to see movement in the right direction.

One of my favorite life lessons I learned from a fictional character, Atticus Finch from "To Kill a Mockingbird." Atticus, you'll recall, was the white attorney who represented black defendants in an Alabama murder trial. The lesson I learned from Atticus Finch was that change happens incrementally. As much as we'd like to believe humanity is wise and kind enough to right decades (and sometimes centuries) of wrongdoing with a single grand event, it just doesn't happen that way. While I believe humanity will always make progress, it will be progress in spirals. Progress and change are a process--and with this victory we can clearly see that the process has begun.

Yet, still embedded into Scouting policy and culture is the message that as a gay youth, you might be okay when you're young, but rejection is imminent. And as we now know, profound evidence-based research done by The Family Acceptance Project tells us rejection is the leading risk factor for LGBT youth when it comes to health issues, including depression and suicide.

Moreover, because gay leaders would be banned from working with youth, there is a message here confusing being gay with pedophilia, and once again, science has borne out that those are two very different things. It’s as if Boy Scouts of America believes that while we might be marginally acceptable as youth, upon our 18^th birthday a magical switch is flipped transforming us from being part of the family of humanity and into sexual predators.

So like Atticus Finch, let's recognize the goodness here--that we are indeed moving in the right direction. But let's not confuse taking a step in the right direction with completing the journey.

All Are Enlisted: The Mission of the LGBT Mormon

All Are Enlisted: The Mission of the LGBT Mormon

Mitch Mayne

April 27, 2013

Talk given in Phoenix, AZ

“All are alike unto God” Mormon/LGBT Conference

Like pretty much everyone in this room, I suspect, I learned early on how important missionary work was to our church.  I remember being told time and time again, “Our greatest and most important duty is to preach the gospel.” I recall hearing scriptural references as a child that reinforced how critical this work was to us as Mormons: 

“If it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:15).

And I remember, probably like most of you, sitting in primary as a kid and singing this song:

I hope they call me on a mission
When I have grown a foot or two.
I hope by then I will be ready
To teach and preach and work as missionaries do.

But I have a confession to make: I hoped they didn’t call me on a mission. I never really wanted to go. I remember meeting missionaries as a kid, and I just couldn’t identify with them—and I simply didn’t want to be one.

Even as a youth, sitting in primary singing the song (often with fingers crossed behind my back), I couldn’t relate with this ardent desire that everyone but me seemed to feel compelled to fulfill. It wasn’t that I didn’t love the church—and most assuredly that I didn’t love my Savior, for both of those things I surely did love.

Part of it, quite honestly, was knowing at such an early age that I was different—that I was gay—even though I lacked the vocabulary to be able to identify what made me different than most of the little boys and young missionaries I’d met. But I sensed it, and inside me a tiny voice whispered, “This is not for you. This won’t make you happy.”

And so, I chose to not go on a mission as a youth, and it was the right decision for me. But, that didn’t mean I was off the hook in terms of being an emissary for my Savior. In fact, I believe now as a gay Mormon, that my mission (and the mission of every single gay Mormon out there) is every bit as critical as that traditional 2 year mission, for our mission is to serve many of those who, on the surface, already appear committed to our Savior.

Let me tell you what I mean by that.

About two years ago, I spoke at a conference in Washington, DC, where I delivered a talk I called “The Test.”

In this talk, I spoke about how we understand LGBT individuals through the lens of our faith today:

Our premise today is that homosexuality is an extra burden—an affliction, something that gays and lesbians must suffer through and really, deny wholesale if we want to remain righteous in the eyes of our church. We are the subject of an extra ‘test’ that doesn’t seem to serve any known purpose.

But, I posited, what if there’s another way to look at it. True, there is very likely a test wrapped up in all of this, for there is undoubtedly a reason that some of us are gay and lesbian, while others are not.

But what if the test, really, is not being given to gays and lesbians, but through gays and lesbians? What if we are actually the vehicle through which the test is being delivered? And the test, then, is not for us at all—but for our heterosexual brothers and sisters?

That would mean, then, that the test might really be this:  Will you, straight brother or sister, include us in your family of faith just as we are? Will you recognize us as your peers, your equals? Will you move past what you think you already know about what it means to be gay, open your mind and heart, and genuinely show Christ-like love and compassion to a segment of society that, for whatever reason, appears to be the least of these in this sphere?

Or, will you shun us? Will you persecute us? Will you force us to choose between God and Gay, because that is what makes you comfortable? Will you compel us to choose between the faith we call home—and walking this earthly path with a companion we love?

This, I believe, is probably far more likely the actual test enveloped inside the LGBT wrapper.

And how our straight fellows perform on this test—the ones we’re here delivering—is largely dependent on us. That is our mission as LGBT Mormons—to help our straight fellows—especially those within the church—learn the meaning of genuine compassion, inclusion, and Christlike love.

A good example of how this works would be my own Mom. I’ve been pretty plain-spoken when it comes to sharing the difficulties we both faced when I told her I was gay. It was a rough time—she said some things that to this day, make my eyes tear up when I repeat them. But what I came to learn about my Mom is that her words during that time were not the words of a woman who hated her gay son. They were the words of a mother who was terrified for her son—having gone her whole life learning painful untruths about what it meant to be gay:

“Gay people have a mental disorder, no matter what the American Psychiatric Association says.”

“If your son comes out as gay, he’ll probably die an early death and live and unhealthy and unhappy life.”

“God will not love your son if he is gay.”

My Mom had to unlearn each of these—and so do many of our fellows within the Church. Granted, it took my mom a long time to transform from a woman who was crippled by fear into the powerful, amazing ally she became, but she did it. By and large, she did it through honest questioning, willingness to look at things from a different perspective, and questioning what she knew. Our Savior opened the door for her, but she stepped through—and I was required to act as my Savior’s missionary and greet her.

Before her death a few years ago, she shared a story with me that outlined how she experienced her mighty change of heart.

Her words: “Over time, my son, I came to not only understand what it really meant to have a gay son, but also recognized it for the gift that it was.

“Years ago,” she said, “my best friend Adele discovered she had a brain tumor. Her initial diagnosis was dire—but also, fortunately inaccurate. When I heard about Adele’s choices for treatment, I felt that she should pursue specific avenues she’d ruled out.

I grew increasingly impatient with her choices until I read an article in a medical journal written by someone I respect, suggesting the avenues I had been championing could do more harm than good.”

“That’s when I realized the limits of my own understanding. Not just when it came to Adele, but when it came to you, as my gay son. In both cases, my sense of urgency to push you both into care that could harm you stemmed not from certainty, but from fear. I learned that my only honest course of action was to turn my fear, my love, and each of you over to the care of your Savior—and to love you both for who you were. I could no longer pretend to know what is best.”

“I’m not a genius, a philosopher, or a wizard. Even if I were all three, I’d still find myself looking off the edge of my own understanding into the vast unknown. And when I recognize my limitations, I am more grateful than ever for a Savior who is free from such restrictions."

"I’m sorry our road was rough. I’m sorry I didn’t always see what a wonderful blessing you are to me and to our family. Today, I am grateful to have you as my gay son—and I love you.” 

Some may say that my Mom may have eventually arrived in this same spot spiritually on her own—the same way many who are converted by our missionary force may get to the place they need to be on their own—and maybe that’s true. But I do believe her course was accelerated by my willingness to be my Savior’s emissary, to allow her ask questions, and to be slow to be offended when she didn’t make progress with the speed and accuracy I wished she would. My Savior presented me with the perfect missionary opportunity—someone who was genuinely willing not only to learn, but to unlearn. He continues to present me with identical opportunities almost every day.

And so it is with each of you.

Among your circle of friends and family stand those who, like my Mom, are willing to learn and unlearn. Some of them don’t know the right questions to ask. Some are afraid of offending and hurting your feelings. Others remain frightened what their other friends would think of them if they began to understand what it means to be a gay Mormon a little bit differently.

But they are there. And our mission is to reach out to them.

Fortunately for us, whether we know it or not—whether we leaped for joy when we sang, “I hope the call me on a mission” or like me—cringed quietly in the corner, embedded within us as Mormons is the basic DNA structure of being missionaries. And by and large, the most powerful tool at our accord is how we live our lives and how we treat others—especially those who don’t necessarily treat us very kindly.

Now, that’s not to say that any of us should maintain relationships with those things that are unhealthy for us—whether that be family, friends, or institutions. We should always put our own spiritual health, safety and sanity first—the same way we counsel traditional missionaries to do.

Often, the healthiest thing we can do as LGBT Mormons is create distance from those things which further damage us, and rest assured I am quite confident our Savior would support us in that. Regardless, we can still do it kindly and with a missionary’s heart. After all, how we respond to someone’s lack of interest in our message may be a better testimony to our Savior’s work here than any detailed account we could offer.

As with any mission, we’ll face challenges and trials. I remember when I was first called into my position almost two years ago—a truly amazing volume of straight Mormons from around the country came out to support me.

Among them were those who warned me of the trials and challenges I’d face as an openly gay Mormon in a priesthood leadership position.

From one friend: “You must be careful now, and on constant alert. Satan will try to tempt you, and you will have men from all walks of life trying to tempt you sexually as you try to fulfill your mission.”

Wow, I thought. Is dating as a gay Mormon really as simple as making yourself somewhat unattainable? I doubted it was, and I was indeed correct. My life hasn’t changed dramatically. I still go to the same gym, the same grocery store, and the same dry cleaners.

No one has flung themselves at my feet, nor has any brigade of handsome, shirtless firemen arrived at my front door.

The tests and challenges have come, however, and if you accept this mission call, they will for you, as well. And I think hands-down the most difficult challenge we face as gay Mormons and allies is not succumbing to anger, resentment, and bitterness while we watch our fellows treat our LGBT brothers and sisters (and often us) unkindly.

A wise friend once told me, “Holding on to resentment is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

And nowhere is that more true than when it comes to the mission of LGBT Mormons.

Once upon a time, I felt it was not in my capacity to forgive. As much as forgiving those who hurt

me—inside my church and my own family—seemed like the right thing to do, my good intentions couldn’t take away the pain or allow me to forget what some of my fellows had said or done. I equated forgiveness with accepting unacceptable behavior, and so I held on to my resentments and allowed my self to be a victim to them over and over again.

Over time, I’ve learned a new way to maintain my spiritual center around people who don’t understand things the same way I do. Now I know I can simply walk away from a verbally offensive situation, independent of the title or role the other person plays in my life. I can tell someone I feel angry or uncomfortable with their behavior and say what I mean, without being mean when I say it. In fact, I find the more I stand up for myself in healthy ways, the more willing I am to forgive others and let go of my resentments.

The same is true for each of you.

Often, you may find that once you begin to discuss your anger or hurt with the other person, a door opens—that missionary door—and a real, meaningful conversation can begin. And if you both decide to talk about how to avoid repeating the same situation, you’ll often become closer in the process.

In other cases, like me, you’ll find that your resentments are based on persistent patterns of behavior you’re not willing to subject yourself to. And that’s okay, too. In these cases, I forgive the other person because that is what I need to do to keep my own spiritual center. But I don’t continue to accept unacceptable behavior.

Sometimes forgiving includes letting go of a harmful relationship and moving on—and for every missionary, this is a perfectly acceptable thing to do. But when we forgive before we leave, we can walk away feeling clean, with no negative ties preventing us from continuing our own journeys toward health and wholeness, and be better equipped to serve our Savior as one of his LGBT missionaries.

In essence, we must live the counsel of Ghandi, and “be the change we want to see in the world.” When someone snarls at us—it’s easy to snarl back. But the higher road is purer, and certainly more successful.

Those who snarl at us feel threatened and full of fear—their whole worldview might be about to change, and that is scary and difficult for the best of us. But regardless of the individual or institution that snarls our way, compassion is always the key that unlocks their hearts. And we, as our Savior’s missionaries, have that key.

Brothers and sisters, it is imperative we shed any semblance of bitterness and anger toward our fellows, and toward our church—for our own sanity, and for the sake of the divine work we have been sent here to do. We are no one’s victim—unless we choose to be.

I’d like to close with the same song lyrics I opened today’s talk with. I enlisted the aid of my friend Carol Lynn Pearson to change these to better suit what I believe (and hopefully you, too) to be our mission as gay Mormons.

The Lord has called us on a mission,

To our peers, His gospel we will preach

That we’re all his beloved sons and daughters

And not a single heart is far beyond His reach.

Sisters and brothers, I wish to share my testimony with you that our Savior loves us, exactly as we are. We don’t have to change who we are to earn that love, despite what some might think—it is ours, freely given, if we will just reach out and accept it.

I also have great faith in this work he’s laid out before us. It’s as if I’m seeing the realization of something Marlin Jensen said in a meeting a few years ago, pertaining to gay Mormons: “Sometimes I wonder if you’re not all simply God’s special spirits we haven’t figured out what to do with yet.” I didn’t know what he meant then, but I think I do now.

We are exactly where we’re supposed to be, and we’re exactly who we’re supposed to be. There is a plan for us here—and most assuredly there is a plan for us in the next realm, as glorious and soul-stretching as the one for our straight fellows. Just because our fellow humans haven’t figured it out yet, doesn’t mean our Savior hasn’t known all along.