I spoke with my husband for a long time again tonight about my feelings. After a long back and forth and many tears. My husband has been great about all of this. He’s left me no room to be angry. To fight. He’s only given me the space to explore. Tonight I told him how sad I was about all of this. I had always thought people left the church because they were angry at it. That is not true.
Leaving is hard. Leaving is SO sad. Coming to realizations, over and over again, that the structure I’v framed my whole life around is not what I thought it was is hard. I cried tonight as I spoke to my husband of the things in my last post. A month or two ago, a little boy with Down syndrome who was waiting in an orphanage died before his would be adoptive-parents could raise enough money to bring him home. They had given him a name and a place in their hearts. If they could have gotten to him sooner, he most likely would have survived. I see this in stark contrast to the fancy new mall built for 2 billion dollars across the street from the temple. 2 billion dollars. How many lives would that have saved?
Is this Christ’s church if it forsakes children? What justification can be used to say that a mall is more important than the lives of the His most vulnerable?
And it hurts. It hurts that the gospel I love isn’t standing the test of scrutiny. I always thought that with the church, if it was true, it would hold up. That there would be enough out there to counteract the bitter pills I’ve been swallowing.
I don’t think there is.
Tonight my husband held me as I cried until my body shook. My head hurt and my eyes blurred. I saw just his outline as he said to me only, “It seems in your conversation about the church, you’re now talking in past tense…”