But no matter how powerful the taste these experiences give you, it always feels like it’s just a hint of the real thing. Like the real thing might not be accessible, at least not in this life.
Now imagine that your world is turned upside down. And the method by which you were seeking for that spiritual connection is seriously called into question. And you stumble onto something that delivers the spiritual experiences you seek more powerfully and more consistently than ever before. And imagine that instead of feeling like a hint or a shadow of the real thing, this new path you’ve stumbled on seems more real than anything that came before.
What would you do in a situation like that? Would you follow your heart and continue along this new path? Could you abandon what you had known and loved, knowing it would hurt friends and family? That you would lose friendships? That you would be misunderstood? That you would be judged? Or would you stay with what was comfortable and familiar, knowing that your heart wasn't quite in line with it anymore?
I found myself in this position a few years ago. And as my journey unfolded, for me, the choice was clear. Although it would be painful, I knew I had to follow my heart. I didn't feel like I could do otherwise and maintain my integrity.
I was raised in the LDS Church. From the time I was young, I had had a number of powerful experiences that seemed to point to the possibility that the LDS Church was the true church of God on the earth. And that through its teachings, priesthood authority, and ordinances, I could draw nearer to God than by any other method. The logical chain ran on to many other beliefs that shaped my worldview, but I think that’s the core of it. The LDS Church was it. I had found the pinnacle of religion and spirituality. All that remained was for me to stay on the path and become the man God wanted me to be.
And I was on that path for several decades. I served a full-time, 2-year mission for my church. I was married in an LDS temple. My wife and I started a family, trying our best to teach our children to live by the principles that were taught by the church through its scriptures, leaders, and most importantly, through what we called the Spirit of God – a direct connection to God from which we could receive inspiration.
I served in many different volunteer positions in the church. I lived my life according to the church’s teachings the best I knew how. And I was consistently striving to better understand those teachings and underlying principles so I could become more and more the man I believed God wanted me to be.
Then I entered a period of darkness that refused to be dissipated by the teachings and principles of my church. And I stumbled onto some teachings from eastern traditions that led me to a powerful practice of meditation that turned my entire world upside down. This practice rapidly dissipated the darkness, bringing a powerful sense of light and peace into my life that rivaled anything I had experienced previously.
I began to experience a connection with something that felt very familiar. Previously, I would have called it the Spirit of God. But these connections weren’t precipitated by prayer, scripture study, ordinances, or anything directly related to an external Deity. At least, not that I could tell. They were precipitated by meditation and a series of teachings, independent of God, that I gradually internalized, leading me to let go of all judgment, clinging, aversion, self-loathing, and a whole host of other unhealthy thoughts and emotions. The experiences were completely self-driven. No reference to God. No calling upon Him for Grace. Just a simple looking inward and a consistent, powerful healing process. And, independent of God, these experiences were more powerful and consistent than anything I had ever experienced during those many years where I was directly calling upon God.
How was it possible to have deeper spiritual experiences outside the church than I had ever had in decades of searching for them inside? Was it possible that I was using the wrong method? I can’t adequately describe the torturous path I embarked on as I began to question my deepest, most cherished beliefs. But as I began to truly open my mind to the possibility that the church was not the right path for me, the light began to pour into my soul even more. If there is a God, I must conclude that He led me away from the faith of my childhood.
But why? The short answer is: I have no idea. And I’m not sure it matters. What I do know is that the path I’m on is good. But my experience has taught me that I don’t need to cling to it. Maybe my path will change again. I would be fine with that. I’ll follow wherever the light leads.
I appreciate my religious background. The LDS Church is a really good organization. It helped prepare me to live a good life and to embark on this new stage in my journey. I have no bad feelings about my past. Some things could have been better. Some ideas that were pounded into my head as a child might not have been the healthiest. But that accusation could be brought against my scholastic education as well as my religious education. That’s just life. Everyone was trying their best to help me along the way. It wasn’t perfect? Bummer. As my perspective broadens, I shed the unhealthy over time. No big deal.
I have no idea where my path will lead. But I am grateful for my past and my present. I think the future will be wonderful too. I have many friends and family whose faith still lies with the church I left. For them, I’ll offer up the possibility that my future will bring me back to the church. I personally don’t think that’s likely, but … if the church is what it claims to be, I’m sure the light will lead me back. Maybe God just wanted to take me on a different path for a while to teach me some things He couldn’t teach me in any other way. And when I’m done, I’ll find my way back.
But maybe I’ve simply found something better. At least for me. For right now. By soaking in the concepts and practices of eastern traditions, I think I’m becoming a more well-rounded man with a broader, more open, more inclusive perspective than I had before. I was raised in a very western culture. Balancing that with a bit of the east has been really good for me. I don’t think either culture has all the answers. But as the concept of yin and yang shows how to bring together what seem to be complete opposites, perhaps the way to peace is to raise our perspective, to see the unity among what appears to be dichotomy, and to find light and joy amidst the chaos.
