Judy Robertson - Out of Mormonism: A Woman’s True Story

Out of
Mormonism

A Woman's True Story

Judy Robertson

Acknowledgments

But for the help and encouragement of the following people, this book would not be in your hands today:

To Charles Cook, my first spiritual guide who counseled me when I felt hopeless after leaving the Latter-day Saints Church.

To John Hendee, whose creative ideas sparked the printing of the original Concerned Christians' Witness to Mormons.

To the anonymous donor who challenged us to complete it, and to Bill Pinch, the real motivator, who put us on the road to printing Witness to Mormons.

To Roy Lawson, who told me, "This is the stuff books are made of," when I wrote letters about our incredible journey on a ministry yacht in the South Pacific.

To Don Cox, who said, "You need to keep writing," when I thought I was wasting time.

To Norm Rohrer, Christian Writers Guild, who gave me permission to say I was a writer as I pecked away on a rusty typewriter on a small island in the South Pacific.

To Donna Goodrich, my first contact with a Christian writers' club, and a continual help in more ways than I can mention.

To Bobbi Preston, whose gentle words and incredibly accurate pen helped me realize "Delete" was the most important key on my computer.

To Joy Moore, who believed in me and whose brainchild, our Tuesday's Children critique group, read and offered invaluable suggestions for every chapter.

To Betty Arthurs, Marsha Crockett, Dorothy Barnes, and Andrea Huelsenbeck, who, along with joy, make up Tuesday's Children. They are my cheerleaders for whom I can't thank God enough.

To Steve Laube, who, at an American Christian Writers Conference, told me I needed to put my South Pacific book on hold and write this book first. I didn't want to hear this advice, but I'm so grateful I took it. Thanks, Steve.

To Bob Haslam, editor of Light and Life Communications, who saw the potential for this book at Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference and desired to publish it. Every writer needs a champion; Bob is mine. Thank you, Bob.

To John Van Valin, publisher, who treated me like a professional and walked me through the signing of the contract.

To my children, their spouses, and my mom, who've graciously let me slide with some family traditions and have taken them over. To my grandchildren, who want me to speak to their classes at school and church. I love you all.

Last, but not least, to my husband, Jim, who has been incredibly patient with my many hours sitting in front of the computer, and has put up with many quick-cook meals and a multitude of household projects put on hold. This is our story of what God has done in and through us.

To the Lord of my life, who placed it in the heart of each of these servants of His to encourage me.

Contents

PART ONE: MORMONISM LOOKS GOOD

............................... 13

............................... 19

.............................. 23

.............................. 27

PART TWO: MY LIFE AS A MORMON WOMAN

................... 33

................................. 37

.............................. 41

................................ 45

.................................. 49

............................. 57

.............................. 65

.............................. 71

PART THREE: LIGHT TO BLINDED EYES

.............................. 81

..................................... 87

........................... 93

............................... 99

.......................... 107

........................... 115

PART FOUR: MY LIFE AFTER MORMONISM

........................... 123

.................... 129

....................... 137

...................... 147

.................................. 159

............................................ 1677

RESOURCES

................... 171

................... 183

....................... 189

.... 197

....................... 203

........................................ 211

Part One

Mormonism
Looks good

1. The Weakness

OW CAN SUCH GOOD PEOPLE BE WRONG? I thought. There's gotta be something there. Surely if God designed His church for today's world, it would be like this one.

Jim's account with Campbell Soup took him to the Arizona farmlands each year from May to the first of July. He needed to be there during potato harvest to oversee grading, loading, and shipping to ensure top quality spuds. Although this was my first time accompanying him with our kids, I heard my husband rave so much about Joe Jackson and his family, I'd gotten sick of it. "Judy, these are the finest people you'll ever meet."

At first, I made serious accusations. "Jim, these people just want your business," I said cynically. "That's why they're being so nice. They're snowing you."

"Judy, how can you say that? They're just sincere, hardworking people."

"Well, I have a funny feeling about them. And what is their religion? Mormon? I've never heard of that before."

"They are totally committed to it. I've never seen anything like it. Everything they do revolves around their church and family."

After a summer of observing this "all-American" family in action, I began to see their appealing qualities, too. Boy, they really do have something! Certainly something we don't. I want to know more.

My depleted spiritual life needed to be recharged, especially after a recent incident at our home church in Fayetteville, Arkansas. I guess you could say my spiritual candle was flickering.

At a vacation Bible school planning meeting, I sat with my co-director in her elegant living room. I opened my heart and unfolded what I thought were innovative and fresh ideas for the kids. In the middle of my presentation she interrupted me. "We've never done it this way before, and I don't know who you think you are, trying to change our VBS!" she sputtered, eyes glaring at me. Her words stung and I sat speechless. Unable to go on, I swallowed hard, gathered my things, and left her home like a whipped puppy.

I choked back tears all the way home. Once in our bedroom I lamented, How could she be so cruel?

I knew after a good fifteen-minute sob I needed to get my feelings under control fast. The kids would be back soon from their friends' house and Jim home for supper.

After eight years of marriage, Jim's way was to try to "fix" my hurt feelings. He'd say something like "Why didn't you just tell her off?"

But I couldn't bring myself to tell off anyone. So I stuffed it in my hurt-feelings bag never to tell anyone-not even God. I didn't know how to share my hurts with God, and I hadn't studied the Bible enough to know we should "bear one another's burdens."