2010-02-13: Appalled at my younger self

(Originally posted on mofembot.com)

The few, the proud will have noticed that “nonlynnear” is essentially offline for the moment. I am slowly figuring out how I want [a particular] website to look as The repository for my published and longer writings. In addition to Dying School, I am starting to handle some content for another long writing, which for the moment I am calling Sister Mish, based on my experiences as a mormon missionary in France some 30+ years ago… as related in the letters I wrote. 

“Oh no,” I hear you cry, “not another epistolary work!” Well, yes and no. I have input a few of my letters home, and it’s really not clear how well I will be able to control my gag reflex if I continue along this path. Let me explain: one of the things that makes this particular project interesting to me is how differently I described the same incident or circumstances — depending on the audience. 

For example, given that my parents were—well, not opposed to my going on a mission, that’s too strong, but certainly (and mind-bogglingly to me, given my clear and present youthful fanaticism to that point) they were caught flat-footed and unprepared for the event, I wanted to try to show them that they were getting a good return for their investment, as it were. (The fact that the one time I did complain about my one very difficult companion, my dad sent me a very unsympathetic “suck it up” response also curtailed how much “reality” it seemed good to share.) So most of my letters home are “silver lining” and “best foot forward” and (name your happy-time cliché) in tone and content. Letters to my brothers, all of whom I was trying to encourage to go on missions, were filled with righteous encouragement. Mon frickin’ Dieu, some of it is so boring on top of being painful to read.

My missionary journal, as I recall (not having yet reviewed it in decades), unfortunately, tends to be a running lamentation about my perceived and real failures and weaknesses. Fortunately, I was able to vent to a few people, and if the carbons are still legible, I think the letters I wrote to them are worth a look. (My exchanges with a sister missionary in Holland were particularly, how shall I say, piquantes.)

Well. All of this is a lead-up to the title of today’s entry. As I was inputting a letter home last night, I found myself rolling my eyes and shaking my head at the following (and even inserting a few bracketed asides):

I have gained a real testimony of following— yea, verily, blindly following, if need be, the leaders of the Church. … 

It’s true that the leaders on the different levels do make mistakes. But the Lord counsels us to obey/follow their counsel; even if they may be wrong in a given circumstance, we will be blessed for our obedience. We can’t receive the blessings if we aren’t willing to put faith in them and obey. Besides which, since we are limited human beings, we, individually, are not always in a position to understand the ultimate outcome of any decision we make or that we are counselled to make. If we listen to the leaders, there is more of a chance that their counsel is correct in the long run, even if (to our own perspective and according to our own individual reasoning) it doesn’t appear to be right.

As [for] “personal revelation”—when it’s in conflict with the leaders’ counsels, I’d still say “follow the brethren.”

Very scary stuff to me now, to say the least, and part of my brain is trying to figure out if there really is any (LDS or other) scriptural justification for the sheep-like thoughts expressed above. I’m amazed that I “emerged” from this mindset. — And I’m fully aware at how completely appalled my younger self would be if she could see the “inactive, apostate” me that she became. She would, moreover, point to a little semi-prescient sentence at the end of all the blather: “Eventually all of us are going to be asked to do something or to make a sacrifice that may seem outrageous— but it must be done if we want to obtain eternal life” … and yes, I guess I did find being told by a high church official to compromise my integrity “outrageous,” and that that was probably the point at which I began to “turn away” in earnest. But that is a tale for another time.