u/encanto26

Ever since I turned 18, the pressure of serving a mission has taken a toll on my mind. I really wanted to serve before because I was truly believing. I don’t know whether I am fortunate or not, because my parents and grandparents are not supportive of the idea of me going on a mission. They are not TBMs.

I was raised in a home where the teachings of the church were rarely mentioned. However, I was raised to believe in God—that God is everywhere. I was taught to fear Him and to be a good and respectful person to others, regardless of their beliefs. For context, my father went on a mission but didn’t finish it because he struggled with mental health while he was there. He eventually carried that illness throughout his life. My grandparents believed that sending their son on a mission was the reason my father got sick. Even with that regret, my grandfather remained active in the church for a while, but my grandma refused to go anymore.

We were still raised in the church as kids, but my family really didn’t want me to go on a mission out of fear that what happened to my dad might happen to me. I won’t go into details about my father, but he was the kindest person I have ever known. He never forced me to go. My mom isn’t a fan of the idea either. My family now focuses on education. They want a bright future for us. But the church seems to reinforce the idea that you have to “give up everything for the church.”

During an institute discussion that somehow shifted to mental health, a returned missionary in our ward asked something that left me completely speechless: “Why can’t people who are suffering from mental health issues just remember how God has been good to them and how He works in their life?”

As someone who witnessed a loved one, someone who was truly believing, the kindest person I know, the most faithful person I knew, suffer deeply from mental illness, I was shattered to hear that question. That comment crossed a line for me. Mental illness doesn’t care how faithful you are. It doesn’t care how much you remember God’s goodness. My father was proof of that. And to reduce the suffering of real people down to a lack of gratitude or faith is so cruel. I’ve had so many doubts about the church, and moments like this only deepen them. Just needed to get this out.

I don’t wanna lie to myself anymore. For the past several months, I’ve been struggling with what I call a faith crisis. I have never had a glorious spiritual experience, despite attending church and all the activities that come with it.

Before I got endowed, I was so excited and looking forward to participating in that sacred ordinance. I was hoping to finally receive that promised feeling “you will find Him in the temple.” But honestly? When I went through my first endowment, I was trying so hard not to laugh, not out of disrespect though, but because I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I was desperately trying to connect the rituals, tokens, and handclasps to anything Christ taught in the New Testament, and I just… couldn’t. I kept thinking, no wonder people call us a cult.

After getting endowed, the pressure to serve a mission hit immediately. That’s just how it works. Endowment means mission is next. My bishop and ward members clearly sensed my hesitation. I kept deflecting with “I’m still praying about it” or “My education is my priority right now.” But the social weight of it all started chipping away at whatever faith I had left, and I found myself falling deeper down the rabbit hole.

What really gets me is how members constantly testify about how the gospel changed their lives yet Christlike behavior seems to be in short supply. And being at a church-affiliated school makes it so much harder to breathe through this. One moment that really stuck with me: a professor told our class how his entire family had left the church, and how he alone stayed on the covenant path. Then he said (and I’m paraphrasing) “I’ve seen people walk away, and I can tell you I’m happier and more joyful than all of them. Joy only comes through the gospel.”

I’ve heard variations of that statement so many times. And every time, it just makes me cringe. Because it completely dismisses the experiences of everyone who left before they even get to speak for themselves.

If you’ve been here, I’d love to hear how you navigated this. Especially if you were in a community where leaving or even doubting felt socially impossible.

Hello everyone!

I’ve been lurking in this subreddit for a long time now, and I finally decided to post.

To be honest, I really don’t know what to believe anymore. As someone who has struggled with church history, its culture, and its systemic flaws, I’ve always wondered, do your faith experiences outweigh the catalysts that lead to a faith crisis?

Most of you may be PIMOs or former TBMs. I know many of you have experienced miracles, a burning bosom, and powerful confirmations from the Holy Ghost. With all of those deeply felt experiences, have you ever looked back and asked yourself, “But what about those experiences?” Did they eventually feel like an illusion to you?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.