I Still Believe

The dominant theme on this blog is my dissatisfaction with Utah culture, its majority politics and religion.  This is in keeping, of course, with the blog's inspiration and title, which I find both kindred in spirit with my more intense feelings and as a useful vehicle to simply vent my frustrations.  Falling snow is beautiful, though, before it's trampled, and it's that beauty with which I'm concerned in this post.

I believe in the gospel of Jesus Christ.  I do.  It touches and inspires me, giving me hope in a better world.  Reading about the Lord's denunciations of hypocrisy, his compassion for the poor, and the hope of redemption for the sinner comfort me and bring peace to my soul.  I believe in the Book of Mormon.  The Spirit touched me to confirm it is true.  It's words affirm the Savior and his gospel to me.

That's why the Mass Resignation this past week on Pioneer Day doesn't appeal to me.  For all the church's flaws, for all the flaws of its members, I don't believe that Jesus has turned away from it, so I can't either.  As its members swell with hypocrisy, as hard as it is for me to stick with it (as I write this I am sitting on my couch, dressed in a white shirt and tie, a tithing check in my suit coat, as the clock ticks its last thirty minutes of my ward's block which I will certainly miss once again), I can't turn away. 

There is still goodness in the church.  Its current fetish with conservative U.S. politics notwithstanding, the church still offers a great deal of humantarian aid, still offers weekly sacraments of the Lord's Supper, and offers temple ordinances in temples that are still (mostly) free of sin.

Don't get me wrong.  I still choose to see things as they really are, preferring the blinding light of the full day to the rose-colored shades at twilight.  I'm with those who recognize that church leaders and members are imperfect and have made mistakes, many quite serious.  I have found that, for most of my life at least, there is room in Utah and in the church for me.  If I cry out, though, against hypocrisy and argue for a broader, more inclusive church, it is to wrestle for a place in the church, like Cornelius, and to shake off the yokes that the Pharisees would have us wear, as Paul and Barnabas did.

Maybe I'm deluding myself.  Maybe I'm kicking against the pricks.  But I still believe.  I hope I always will.