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.

"You can't sit with us!" Mean Girls, Mormons, and the Message of our Savior

"You can't sit with us!"

Mean Girls, Mormons, and the Message of our Savior 

A talk I delivered to the Bay Ward on Sunday, March 10, 2013. Enjoy. 

***

Eighteen months ago, when Bishop Fletcher first asked me to serve in this calling, I told him one of the side benefits he’d get from having me as his executive secretary was a cache of bizarre information based on my rather embarrassing obsession with pop culture. He looked at me with his ever-present smile, and simply said, “Great!” And I’m sure he didn’t really expect for me actually find use for my mindless fixation in spiritual matters, but I do believe inspiration often comes to us through the most unlikely sources—and so it is with my talk today.

One of my guilty pleasures is the movie, “Mean Girls.” If you haven’t seen it, I’ll sum it up for you.

It’s the story of a group of beautiful, popular high school girls, and how they go about stepping on one another and their fellows to reach higher and higher levels of admiration within their high school circle.

In one of the scenes, four of the girls are gathered for lunch—three of them very well dressed and well groomed. The fourth, however, is wearing sweats. Apparently to be in the “Mean Girls” click, you can only wear sweats on Thursday—but this was a Monday. As the girl in sweats—Regina George—sat down, one of the other girls pointed out to her that according to the rules, if you wore sweats on any day other than Thursday, you weren’t allowed to sit at the popular table.

Regina’s reply was full of shame. Her eyes cast downward, she said meekly, “I’ve put on weight…sweats are the only thing that fits me right now.” 

“You can’t sit with us!” hissed one of the girls angrily—unified with the other two, and indicating that there was no room at the popular table for Regina that day. And with that, Regina quietly picked up her tray and left to sit alone.

Now, even though Regina was the meanest of the “Mean Girls,” I don’t think there’s a human out there that wouldn’t feel a little pinch of pain watching Regina be cast out from amongst a group of girls who were supposed to be her friends.

So how does this pop-culture reference apply to us as Mormons? Well, as Mormons, we believe ourselves to be disciples to our Savior, and emissaries of His unconditional love for all our brothers and sisters. Yet, we’re also very human—and sometimes, we end up being a little bit like the character in “Mean Girls,” and subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) telling others, “You can’t sit with us!”

I’ll confess right here—I think of myself in this context. I like to think of myself as a pretty enlightened guy—growing up as a gay Mormon, from a divorced family with an active alcoholic parent in a small town in Idaho taught me a lot about what it means to feel like I’m on the outside looking in.

Yet, in my weakest and most human moments, I can find myself turning into one of the "Mean Girls"—being quick to condemn someone who’s different, and slow to show them the kind of love and inclusion my Savior would.

And sometimes I find myself justifying my own bad behavior—and there are two words I hear myself say that often signal I am doing just that. Those words are, “Yes, but.”

“Yes, but…she doesn’t obey the word of wisdom.”

“Yes, but…he’s not married.”

“Yes but…he doesn’t have a temple recommendation.”

“Yes, but…she’s wearing sweats on Monday.”

What we’re actually doing when we use words like “Yes, but” to justify our own bad behavior, is essentially adding an asterisk to our Savior’s command to love one another. That commandment was pretty simple, and pretty clear. It didn’t say “Love only the people who have the same color skin as you,” or “Love only the people who have the same political leanings,” or “Love only the people whose behavior, clothes, or orientation you approve of.”

What it says is simply, “Love everyone.” Even the ones who look different from us, speak differently, whose skin is another shade, or whose political philosophies may be different than our own.  

Each Sunday, I sit among you and renew my baptismal covenants—to take upon myself the name of my Savior, and in so doing, agree to lift those around me, support them, and be kind to them—to love them unconditionally.

When I find myself inclined to tell someone, “You can’t sit with us,” it helps to remember the words of those covenants I renew each week. And it helps to remember how patient, kind, and long-suffering my Savior is with me. In my quietest moments alone with my Savior, I have come to understand just a little about how much he loves me—and He is, without question, my very best friend. He doesn’t reject me because of my ignorance, or condemn me for my limitations and shortcomings. He doesn’t make me leave the lunch table because I’m wearing sweats on the wrong day. 

Instead he stands ever ready to forgive me, urge me on to higher standards of moral and ethical behavior, and be patient with me as I struggle to reach them.

For each of us, we should try to accept others as our Savior accepts us: For who we are, and where we are. His grace on our behalf is always beyond our deserving. As Paul said to the Romans, “God’s act of grace is out of all proportion to Adam’s wrongdoing… Where sin was multiplied through us, His grace immeasurably exceeded it.” 

Each of us is on a continuum of eternal progression, and our Savior is present with every single one of us at every single level. The truth of the matter is, no matter how enlightened or Christlike we’d like to think we are, none of us ever acts in complete consistency with unconditional love.

With our families, business associates, or even when we’re stuck in traffic we may have moments where we slip. On the other hand, each of us also has our shining instances when we’re at our best—stretching ourselves beyond our own capacity to show a brand of kindness and love that would please our Lord.

Thus, we need to make sure we’re as patient, kind, and loving toward one another—that we love one another with no asterisk—just as our Savior loves us. And we need to be open to what we can learn from our fellow mortals here, whose spiritual development is as uneven as our own. We’d be wise to keep in mind the words of Emerson as we do so: “I have never met a fellow who was not my superior in some particular.”

Brothers and sisters, let us show the world Mormonism at its best. To those who do not know better, ours is a curious—if not strange—faith at best. In the minds of the uninformed, well-groomed missionaries, Big Love, and polygamy is almost all they know about us. We know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of suspicion and prejudice, what it’s like to be alienated from our fellows, and what it’s like to be told, “You can’t sit with us.”

And precisely because we know how this feels, we have an extra obligation to ensure we are not the cause of others feeling that way—and an extra responsibility to ensure that we are never on the wrong side of our covenants, adding our own asterisk to our Savior’s commandment to Love One Another.

I want to close with my meditation from this morning—and hope you’ll join me in trying to live the spirit embodied in this small passage.

Today, I will practice unconditional love.  First I will be kind and loving to myself, but I will not stop there. I will extend this same unconditional love to others. I am one among my fellows. And when I offer unconditional love, it always returns to me—multiplied.

I leave these things with you in the name of my champion, my friend, and my Savior, Jesus Christ.

Amen.

No More Strangers: LGBT Mormon Forum

A few weeks back, we launched No More Strangers—an online forum focused on LGBT issues inside the Mormon faith. The contributing authors to this blog are both well-known and informed emerging voices that help us understand more deeply the issues surrounding what it means to be a gay Mormon or an ally. 

Each of us is in different places in terms of our relationship with the LDS Church.  Some of us are active in the Church and fiercely committed to our testimony and to the Gospel. Some of us wrestle with doubt and/or faith. Some are firmly post-Mormon, though concerned about the state of affairs in LGBT Mormondom.  We bring with us expertise as teachers, scientists, writers, coaches, therapists, activists, theologians, and thinkers.

We seek to address a range of topics, in diverse voices and styles.  Some of us bring an edgier, more political perspective to the table.  Others rely on laughter to dispel demons. Some of us love digging into the scriptures and bringing theological reflection to real-life struggles.  Others bring a more devotional, more spiritually connected perspective.

We will reflect on the LGBT Mormon experience, but we will also examine larger questions in our Church and society from our unique perspectives, bringing our faith and our wrestling with issues related to sexuality and gender identity to our reflections on current events and the human condition. We hope to challenge ourselves and our readers.

And I think I love this part of our mission the best: Our one overarching commitment is that whatever we are or ever were to one another, the one thing we are no more and will never more be is strangers.

Some of the authors include:

·         Berta Marquez

·         Carol Lynn Pearson

·         John Dehlin

·         Erika Munson

·         John Gustav-Wrathall

·         Morris Thurston

·         Bob Rees

·         Bill Bradshaw

·         Hollie Hancock

·         Scott Holley

·         Tom and Wendy Montgomery

Bookmark the No More Strangers forum—and join us today.

A Shepherd of Israel

Eighteen months ago, I was called to serve closely with Bishop Don Fletcher in the Bay Ward here in San Francisco, as his executive secretary. In my Mormon career, I’ve had the great blessing to have had some amazing bishops, but this has been my first opportunity to really see a “bishop-in-action,” and be privy to some of the details of how an individual can manage this calling in a way that expands on it, grows the faith of those around him, and enables him to increase his own faith. It’s been a pretty remarkable experience.

Bishop Fletcher has been an outspoken ally of LGBT Mormons. In the past 18 months alone, he’s written a powerful op-ed supporting the evidence based research of The Family Acceptance Project advocating for a scientific approach to keeping our gay Mormon youth safe and healthy; he’s spoken in several LGBT Mormon forums and shared his own experience, strength, and hope; and was the primary driver of creating a welcoming congregation for everyone in our ward boundaries—gay, straight, or anywhere in between.

And while his mission to the LGBT community is clear, his message of inclusion extends beyond gay Mormons—and at its core, is a message for all Mormons who feel ‘on the outside looking in’ for whatever reason. At our first Ward Conference over a year ago, he stood in front of the ward and stake leadership teams and said, “Everyone who wishes to come participate in our family of faith is welcome here—every spot, stripe, and pattern our Father created. Everyone has a place inside this church—and our doors are open to all of them.”

His inclusive, optimistic outlook is difficult not to like—and difficult to not like being around. I do believe, too, that this kind of optimism and kindness is contagious. In that spirit, I want to take the opportunity to share some of the things I’ve learned from him over the past 18 months. And while this list is by no means comprehensive, my hope is that it stands as a small—yet incomplete—tribute to a man I not only admire, but also love very much.

It is quite possible to be well liked, and well respected.

“No one cares how much you know until they know how much you care,” is one of Bishop Fletcher’s philosophies. As an ophthalmologist, Bishop Fletcher often works with students to teach them what he calls ‘the art of medicine,’ meaning that his instruction includes the idea that it’s quite okay to endear yourself to people as you tell them things they need to hear—even if it’s unpleasant. The same, be believes, is true for him in his role as a Bishop: Even if you’re telling the truth, you never have license to be unkind.

Humility has nothing to do with humiliation.

One of my mantras for many years, I admire the way Bishop Fletcher puts this into action. “An old stand-by in medicine,” he told me, “is instruction through intimidation and embarrassment. That model doesn’t work for me in my career, nor in my calling. My role as a Bishop is not about shaming—it is to uplift and edify. You can’t accomplish that if you shame your fellows.”

This gives everyone the freedom to speak their truth without fear of retribution, and helps make our congregation a genuinely safe space for all our brothers and sisters.

There is no place for gossip in a healthy community of Saints.

“Words can harm, or words can heal,” he’s said to me, recounting the story of two patients with heart conditions—one who died in large part because he heard the wrong messages from people who matter.

Recognizing the power of words, Bishop Fletcher’s rules on this one are pretty simple: Before repeating anything, ask yourself:

1. Is it true?
2. Is it fair to all concerned?
3. Does telling it build up good will and friendship?
4. Will telling it be beneficial to all concerned?

If your answer is anything other than yes, then whatever you’re planning to say is likely best left unsaid.

Stand up for what you believe in.

Bishop Fletcher has created a ward environment where people are free to express their opinions and beliefs, even if they fall outside the norm of what we understand as Mormons. His caveat, however, is that there is a way to stand for yourself without standing against your fellows—another philosophy I support and try to live.

“Speak your own truth,” he advises, “But also understand it is not necessary to create an enemy when you do so. Tolerance,” he adds, “doesn’t mean I’m tolerant of only those who share my point of view.”

And I have seen him put this into action—he’s a master at disagreeing without being disagreeable in the process.

A Christ-centered life is more fulfilling than a rule-centered life.

“Rules matter,” Bishop Fletcher tells me, “But we don’t have to look too deeply into our Savior’s life to see that indeed, the rules are good—but building a life embedded into the spirit of the law goes so much further than one embedded into the letter of the law.”

His philosophy is similar to that of Joseph Smith—teach people correct principles, and they will effectively govern themselves. While it’s prudent to obey the rules, the rules alone aren’t enough. It’s far more prudent to understand the spirit in which they were meant.

And after all, if we get the first couple right—love our Savior, and love one another—the rest pretty much follow.

It’s okay to not be perfect. And it’s okay (and sometimes desirable) to say, “I don’t know.”

“President Hinckley was a man I greatly admired. One of the things I liked best about him is he wasn’t afraid to admit there were things he simply did not know, even in his position. If a prophet of the church can display such honest humility, how then, can I not follow his example?”

I think it’s safe to say Bishop Fletcher has a general disdain for pompous, self-righteous individuals who have a need to come off as knowing all the answers. Much more effective for him, he believes, is admitting the fact that he doesn’t know everything—and often enlisting the aid of those around him to help him figure things out.

“Often, we tend to fall into the very human desire to create an image of ourselves as someone who has all the answers,” he said. “But just because we’re called as bishops or leaders doesn’t mean our calling enables us to dispense all the answers. It is, after all, a sign of strength—not of weakness—to be honest, even if the answer is ‘I don’t know.”

Gratitude is critical—independent of where we are in life.

“As an eye doctor, many of the patients I see are keenly focused on the difficulties they face as a result of losing their sight. Often, they transfer this anger to God, another human, or the medical profession. With that, they are ripe to fall into a deep despair as a result of not being able to live their lives in the ways to which they’ve become accustomed.

“In each of these instances, I advise my patients to keep a Book of Abundance—where they record five good things that happen to them each day. The book is kept under their pillow, and I ask them to record their list at night before they sleep, so they can reflect on their day and close their day on an optimistic note. Moreover, if they know they have to record these five items before they sleep, their attention throughout the day will be guided to look for the hand of our Savior even in their current circumstance—and as a result, their perception of a more abundant life will flourish.”

Often a topic of our Bishopric meetings, gratitude is a quality Bishop Fletcher displays in all his affairs. Whenever a situation seems to take an unexpected turn for the worse, he can be counted on to find the silver lining.

“When I look for the blessings of my Savior, I find them. Conversely, when I look for the negative, that is also what I find. My life is much more peaceful and much sweeter when I make an active effort to guide my own perceptions.”

***

Bishop Fletcher isn’t perfect—like all of us, he has his share of human limitations. But what is remarkable, I think, is his willingness to admit that those do exist—and display a pretty good knowledge of what those limitations are. And with that, takes a huge step toward eroding their ability to impact his capacity as a human, a bishop, and as my friend.

Thank you, Bishop Fletcher. You are indeed a shepard of Israel. We need more like you.

Life lessons from Mom

I’ve shared pretty openly about my tumultuous history with my parents when I told them I was gay—my Mom, in particular. And while it was difficult at first, I witnessed a change in my Mom that was nothing short of remarkable. Over time, she made the transition from someone who wished I hadn’t been born at all (out of fear of how difficult my life would be), to a woman who not only loved me as her gay son—but advocated for and celebrated me. 

This past week I ran across the letter I wrote her as part of her memorial a few years ago. I want to share it here today because I think it stands as an example of how hearts can change—and delivers my very imperfect homage to one of the humans I loved most in this world.

Most of all, I hope there are a few Moms of gay Mormons out there who read this and realize the same thing my Mom did—if you allow it to be, having a gay child can be a blessing unlike any other. Often, parents of gay kids are given opportunities to develop Christlike unconditional love, compassion, and forgiveness that others are not offered. No, it is not an easy path—but if it is navigated with guidance from our Savior and His gospel, it can be one of the most rewarding any human can travel. 

Enjoy. 
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Dear Mom-

I know you’re aware how my heart groans today, how much losing you hurts me, and how unprepared I feel to continue on without you. But I want you to know how glad I am for your release from your struggles here.

Mom, you left me a soul stretching legacy. One of the most profound was passing to me your life long love of education. You inspired me to levels of achievement I could never have accomplished on my own. When we were small children, you set a goal for yourself to return to nursing school. How difficult this time must have been for you —two small children to raise, very little money, and in order to survive you needed to clean houses on the weekends and in the evenings. When you weren’t studying the rigorous nursing curriculum, you were in the home of a stranger, stooped over cleaning their floors —   to make a better life for yourself and your family. But you never complained. How proud I am of you for that.

When I was contemplating graduate school some years ago, I thought of many choices. You encouraged me to aim high, just like you did when you decided to return to school, and with that encouragement I chose Stanford University, certain that I would be rejected. How could they be interested in a poor kid from a small town in Idaho? But they accepted me. That accomplishment is not only my own, Mom—it is yours, as well. Without your example and encouragement, I would not have made it to that milestone in my life. 

When I left for school, I know it broke your heart. I saw it in your eyes. Your words and countenance projected a bravado I knew was false, but in order to make my departure easier you hid your sorrow. You knew that when I left, I would not return. You would not have your youngest son at home any longer…but you let me go, wished me well, and assured me that I could do this —   that I could reach this goal —   in spite of your  heart breaking as you watched me drive away in the moving van. Thank you for setting me free, mom, when I know it took all your strength to do so.

As my life and career took root in San Francisco, I turned to you often for counsel and advice. Often I would dismiss the wisdom you shared with me, but more often than not I would regret doing so. I talked to you almost every day, Mom. Sometimes I would call with nothing really to say—a commentary on the weather, or something else insignificant—but you always made time for me even when my conversations had to be less than interesting. I drew comfort knowing you were there—just simply, perfectly, there. 

When I told you I was gay, it created a rift in our relationship—but mercifully, that rift was temporary. Years later, when you came to not only understand what it meant to have a gay son—but also recognized it as a gift—you shared a story with me that I’ve never forgotten. 

“Years ago,” you 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.” 

What I learned from you that day is that people can change their minds—and that often their hearts then follow. I learned that like you, as a human I don’t know what’s best for anyone, either. My only job is to stick close to my Savior, make the best decisions I can, and to allow others the dignity to do the same—and to love them just the way they are. Thank you for being an example to me again, Mom. 

Two weeks ago at Christmas was the last time we were all together as a family. As I drove you home Christmas night, you told me you didn’t want to me to come up with you to your place. But I needed to; I needed to help you carry your gifts upstairs. I dismissed your request and took you upstairs anyway. Inside your apartment, I turned to find you crying by the front door…tears flowed down your cheeks from behind the reading glasses that were too large for the frame of your tiny face. 

When I asked you why you were crying, you said it seemed extra hard to say goodbye to me this time, and it felt like it would be a long time before you got to see me again. I just grabbed you and hugged you, and I said, “Sssshhh…it’s okay. Don’t worry, Mama. Don’t cry--I’ll see you later.” You looked me in the eyes and said, “Okay…okay. If we can say, ‘I’ll see you later,’ I’ll be alright with that. But I won't say goodbye to you.” 

I hugged you again, kissed your forehead, wiped your tears, and walked away. That was the last time I saw you. Part of me regrets not staying and spending more time with you, but another part of me recognizes that it happened exactly as it should—that in the opportunity to tell you, “I’ll see you later,” our Savior was at work as well, reminding us that this isn’t really goodbye at all.  Our final moments together had our Savior’s fingerprints all over them. For that, I’m also grateful. 

You weren't perfect, Mom--but you were the perfect Mom for me. I know in this world, this phrase often carries a negative connotation. But Mom, I am, and always will be, a Mama’s boy. And I’m proud to be one. 

I won’t tell you good-bye, Mom. But I will close with this: “I love you mom. That will never change. And you can bet that I will, indeed, see you later.”

With much love, your gay son,
Mitch

The 6 Most Optimistic Gay Mormon Moments of 2012

A repost of my Huffington Post article that appeared in January of 2013. Worth a repeat!

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I’m a big believer in positive reinforcement. When I was in 6^th grade, my teacher talked me into signing up for the basketball team he coached. I was lousy—but he kept a patient eye on me, corrected me when I was wrong, and instilled in me both the belief that I could do better, and the desire to do so.

The next fall when I entered 7^th grade, I signed up for basketball once again—and just between us, I was still pretty lousy. But my new coach was a different breed than my former coach had been—and he had a completely different philosophy. Instead of encouraging me and reminding me what I’d done right, he derided me and criticized me in front of my fellow teammates. Eventually, shamed and humiliated, I left the team—and ultimately the game altogether.

In retrospect, both coaches taught me a valuable lesson: When you want someone to succeed and get it right, gently correcting and encouraging them is going to go a lot further than angry insults and humiliation.

Institutions—since they’re also made up of humans—tend to respond the same way we do as individuals. That’s why I think it’s important to recognize institutions, like the Mormon Church, when they take positive steps toward better understanding LGBT individuals both in and outside the faith.

As an openly gay, active Latter-day Saint serving as a priesthood leader in my local congregation as my authentic self—an openly gay man, I’m keenly interested in how my church understands LGBT inclusion and equality. Don’t get me wrong—I’m among the first to realize that we have a challenging road ahead of us—and have no problem pointing out areas where we’re still weak.

But I also know this is going to be a long game. So I’m borrowing a page from my 6^th grade basketball coach’s playbook, and giving praise for what I think are the most optimistic gay Mormon moments of 2012—in the hopes that my faith continues to move forward with Christ-like love and full inclusion of its LGBT members.

Because that’s where our Savior wants us to be.

1.      Straight Mormons form grass-roots LGBT ally and advocate groups.  

Mormons Building Bridges emerged onto the scene earlier this year, with a stated goal of conveying love and acceptance to LGBT individuals, both in and outside the faith. Throughout the year the group hosted and participated in a variety of activities to build those bridges—ranging from local community meetings, to partnering with Ogden OUTreach Center for a homeless gay youth placement program, and marching in Pride Parades across the country. 

Mormons for Marriage Equality actually went a step further, and actively coalesced Mormon and interfaith allies to actively campaign to support gay marriage initiatives in several states across the country this year—helping ensure a big win for LGBT marriage equality in 2012.

2.      Straight allies and LGBT Mormons march in over twenty Pride Parades across the globe—including Santiago, Chile.

You can get a sense of the magnitude of these events here. When I led the San Francisco Pride contingent, we were joined by some friends from NBC. Later that evening over dinner, one of the producers—who had little previous experience with Mormons—shared that this was among the most spiritual events she’d ever witnessed. The looks of shock from the onlookers as we marched behind a banner that said, “Mormons for Marriage Equality” were replaced with tears, hugs, and heartfelt “thank-you’s” from both sides. Healing has begun, and just maybe the ugliness of our involvement in Proposition 8 is beginning to mend.

3.      Family Acceptance Project releases LDS booklet that helps Mormon families and leaders understand how to respond to gay youth and young adults in ways that keep them safe and healthy.

It’s no secret that the suicide rate of LGBT Mormons is significantly higher than the national average, and for decades Mormon parents of gay youth have felt compelled to choose between their church and their children. But now we have evidence-based science blended with the best parts of the Mormon faith that helps parents realize they don’t have to choose, and gives them specific behavioral guidance that will help keep their families together, and help protect their children from significant health risks—including depression and suicide. Coauthored by a former Mormon bishop (and active member) and now being used by many congregations across the country, this is a big stride forward for the safety of LGBT Mormon youth.

4.      The Mormon Church launches a website talking about LGBT issues inside the faith.

The release of mormonsandgays.org was a big step for a conservative organization like the Mormon Church. And while it’s not perfect, wrapped inside some of the vignettes are glimpses of genuine understanding and Christ-like love. True, there are still some challenges here—such as the lack of any clear call to action or resources to help protect gay kids—but the Mormons may be among the only major conservative faiths to have a web resource for leaders and families. It’s a small step—but small steps matter. They add up.

5.      Senator Harry Ried (D-Nevada) comes out in support of gay marriage.

Reid, among the highest ranking Mormons in the U.S. government, evolved his position and came out in opposition to the Church’s official stand on gay marriage. "My personal belief is that marriage is between a man and a woman. But in a civil society, I believe that people should be able to marry whomever they want, and it's no business of mine if two men or two women want to get married," Reid said. And maybe the best part is that by taking a stand, Reid gave other Mormons permission to stand for the right thing, as well.

6.      LGBT and allied BYU students come out in support of their LGBT brothers and sisters in an “It Gets Better” video series.

Showing how attitudes are changing among young gay Mormons and how they understand themselves in relation to their faith—and demonstrating the support of their straight fellows—these first videos spurred additional participation by BYU students, and the videos themselves went viral across the planet and generated national media attention.  

***

There you have it—my top picks of the most optimistic gay Mormon moments of 2012.

This certainly isn’t an exhaustive list—and it certainly isn’t perfect. But given the Mormon faith’s painful history with the LGBT community, I think it’s a pretty good year when we can look back and come up with any reasons to be hopeful—let alone a half-dozen.

All this makes me wonder what would happen if we in the LGBT community were a bit more like my 6^th grade basketball coach, and the next time we ran into a Mormon we said something like, “Hey, thanks for showing up to march in Pride!” or “Nice job on the website—it’s important we start talking about these things.” Maybe we’d instill in the Mormon community what my coach instilled within me: The belief that we can do better, and the desire to do so.

Then maybe next year we’d have even more hopeful gay Mormon moments.  

Holiday giving at its best: Building a healthier LGBT Mormon youth

Most of us spend our holidays with our families—our siblings, parents, and extended relatives that we love, and who love us in return. Having just returned from Christmas with my own family, I’m reminded how blessed I am to have a family who loves me for who I am: an openly gay Mormon.

But many gay Mormons aren’t so lucky. Often, when a Mormon parent finds out their child is gay, they feel forced to choose between their child and their church. And when they look for resources to help understand and respond to their LGBT children, they’re directed to programs based on opinion, not on science—and this often has tragic consequences.

But now we have an alternative.

According to the impeccable research done by Dr. Caitlin Ryan of San Francisco State University’s Family Acceptance Project, LGBT young people whose parents reject them are: More than eight times as likely to attempt suicide, nearly six times as likely to report high levels of depression, more than three times as likely to use illegal drugs, and more than three times as likely to be at high risk for HIV and sexually transmitted diseases.

An LDS oriented version of the booklet that suggests ways families can insure a safer life for their LGBT children, co-authored by former bishop Robert Rees, can be downloaded here free of charge. You can also order copies of the booklet at cost here, or by emailing fap@sfsu.org.

The Family Acceptance Project materials are the only evidence-based guide to be designated as a “Best Practice” for suicide prevention for gay Mormons by the national Best Practices Registry for Suicide Prevention.

We need your help.

In addition to the booklet, The Family Acceptance Project is developing a series of evidence-based education and support materials for Mormon families with LGBT children. Your tax-deductible donation—whatever the size—will help ensure these materials get into the hands of the families who need them most.

When you donate today, you’ll be helping Mormon families understand there is a healthier way to support their LGBT children—and stay true to what we believe as Mormons—that families really are forever, and how we care for family members on earth affects our family for eternity.