Pressure

In the church, pressure to conform is palpable and pervasive, often manifesting in forms that can leave individuals feeling trapped and manipulated. This pressure is not merely social; it is deeply woven into the fabric of church doctrine, culture, and community expectations. As I navigated my own journey of questioning and ultimately leaving the church, I became acutely aware of how this pressure operates and the toll it takes on members.

When I made the decision to leave the church, I felt I had been betrayed and lied to. For several weeks, I had lingering doubts about my decision. I have since learned that what I experienced is very common among people who leave high-demand religions, and it bears many similarities with the experience of leaving an abusive or manipulative relationship. The pressure to conform to church teachings and expectations can create a sense of entrapment, making it difficult for individuals to assert their autonomy or question their beliefs.

Think Celestial

For years, I refused to acknowledge the manipulative aspects of the church, believing that any resemblance to manipulation was a distortion of divine guidance. However, as I began to investigate my beliefs, I was shocked by the manipulative language used by church leaders. For instance, during General Conference, Russell Nelson’s statements often employed fear-based rhetoric, suggesting that failing to adhere to church teachings would result in eternal separation from loved ones. Such comments not only instill fear but also reinforce the idea that questioning the church equates to rejecting God. This kind of language can be deeply troubling, as it creates an environment where members feel compelled to suppress doubts and conform to the collective belief system.

Thus, if we unwisely choose to live telestial laws now, we are choosing to be resurrected with a telestial body. We are choosing not to live with our families forever.¹

Those who have participated in or watched an endowment ceremony in the 2010s might relate when I say this sounds much closer to Satan’s threat (something akin to “if these people do not live up to every covenant they make, they will be in my power”) than God’s comforting, patient language. It strikes fear into parents who believe they are sealed to their children forever. It uses threatening language, and I believe this manipulative statement alone is damning evidence that Nelson’s address does not match the tone or nature of God.

Consider a later paragraph in his address:

When you are confronted with a dilemma, think celestial! When tested by temptation, think celestial! When life or loved ones let you down, think celestial! When someone dies prematurely, think celestial. When someone lingers with a devastating illness, think celestial. When the pressures of life crowd in upon you, think celestial! As you recover from an accident or injury, as I am doing now, think celestial! As you focus on thinking celestial, expect to encounter opposition. Decades ago, a professional colleague criticized me for having “too much temple” in me, and more than one supervisor penalized me because of my faith. I am convinced, however, that thinking celestial enhanced my career.¹

While they appear innocent, catchphrases like “think celestial” are common thought-stopping strategies. Consider this: if “think celestial” was your go-to mantra, and you were confronted with something that made you doubt, would it be more appealing to “think celestial” or use reasoning skills to sort out who is right? This sentiment reminds me of language common among manipulative parents I’ve met, who will convince their child to do something with questions or sayings that back the child into a corner.

Of course, mantras can be helpful. My wife and I often repeat to each other, “handle it now,” which keeps us from letting dishes or laundry build up. But I suggest that when someone else tells you what your mantra should be, it is worth scrutinizing their intentions.

Nelson continues in his talk:

As you think celestial, you will find yourself avoiding anything that robs you of your agency. Any addiction—be it gaming, gambling, debt, drugs, alcohol, anger, pornography, sex, or even food—offends God. Why? Because your obsession becomes your god. You look to it rather than to Him for solace. If you struggle with an addiction, seek the spiritual and professional help you need. Please do not let an obsession rob you of your freedom to follow God’s fabulous plan.¹

When I first heard this talk, this quote struck me as particularly problematic. It uses something familiar to many church members (the concept of addiction) and expands its scope to include anything someone turns to rather than God for solace. While it is wise to seek help if an addiction is controlling your life, this paragraph appears to be designed to tear down people who are struggling rather than lifting them up.

I cannot speak for Jesus, but the stories I’ve read throughout the scriptures do not seem to indicate that he was offended by people suffering with addiction. I can only imagine Jesus having more compassion and empathy than I could comprehend. I do not think this is the language he would have used. Not to mention, addiction is globally categorized as a disorder that often requires treatment rather than something that can be prayed away.

It is impossible for me to know Nelson’s exact motive when he penned this talk. But I will suggest that I would only say something like this if I wanted my audience to feel guilty and ashamed. As I discuss in the following sections, guilt and shame are great tools to keep people engaged in the church and afraid to question. Everyone I’ve ever met has “struggled” with something on this list during a hard time. Students play video games to relax after a long day of classes and work. People go into debt in emergencies or even to feed their families. Anger is a normal emotion and is healthy when expressed appropriately, and on a personal note, I cannot imagine a perfect, merciful God being offended that I bake a batch of cookies after a long day at work (even if the practice is not the healthiest).

Consider one final quote from this talk:

As you think celestial, you will view trials and opposition in a new light. When someone you love attacks truth, think celestial, and don’t question your testimony. The Apostle Paul prophesied that “in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils.”¹

Understanding “think celestial” as a thought-terminating statement, I do not understand how this paragraph could possibly have been inspired by the same Jesus I’ve read about in the New Testament. I suggest that this statement is carefully crafted to cast doubt on anyone who thinks differently or does not believe. The word “attacks” conjures warlike and violent imagery, and listeners are encouraged to see anyone expressing contrary or alternative ideas as the enemy. This is a painfully divisive way of speaking in which the alternative opinions the enemy. If you start to question your loyalty to the church, you must be “giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils”.

I would encourage reading rest of Nelson’s talk. It is full of fallacy: rather than truly rebut any “anti-mormon” arguments or even mention them specifically, he shamelessly casts his opposition away with Ad Hominem. Because I oppose his ideas, I must have been seduced by a devil and should not be trusted.

I would like to point out at this point: I primarily cite church-produced resources and my own experience to form my argument. I propose that there are specific problems with the church, and my argument focuses on those problems, not individual church members or leaders. While I disagree with many of the points Nelson makes, I make no attempt to degrade him or use his character to negate his arguments.

The Weight of Expectations

From a young age, members of the church are taught that their worth is tied to their adherence to church teachings and their ability to fulfill various roles within the community. This creates an environment where people feel they must constantly measure up to an ideal that is often unattainable. The pressure to serve, to be perfect, and to maintain a façade of righteousness can be overwhelming. I often felt that my worthiness was contingent upon my ability to meet these expectations, leading to a cycle of guilt and shame whenever I fell short.

For instance, the concept of “worthiness” is a recurring theme in church teachings. Members are frequently reminded that they must be worthy to partake of sacred ordinances, such as taking the sacrament or entering the temple. This creates a high-stakes environment where individuals may feel they cannot express doubts or struggles for fear of being deemed unworthy. The pressure to conform can lead to a façade of compliance, where members feel compelled to present a polished image to the community, even if it means suppressing their true feelings and experiences.

For years, I refused to acknowledge the manipulative aspects of the church, believing that any resemblance to manipulation was a distortion of divine guidance. However, as I began to investigate my beliefs, I was shocked by the manipulative language used by church leaders. Their messages often instill fear and reinforce the idea that questioning the church equates to rejecting God. This kind of language can be deeply troubling, as it creates an environment where members feel compelled to suppress doubts and conform to the collective belief system.

The Role of Guilt and Shame

The pressure to conform extends beyond mere rhetoric; it permeates daily life and personal relationships. Members often feel obligated to adhere to an idealized version of what it means to be a faithful Mormon, leading to feelings of guilt and inadequacy when they fall short. This pursuit of perfection can manifest in various ways, from the pressure to fulfill church callings to the expectation of maintaining a certain image within the community. I found myself caught in a cycle of overcommitment, where I would question whether I was doing too much, reassure myself it was God’s will, and then feel guilty for wanting to do less. This cycle is indicative of the manipulative dynamics that can arise within high-demand religious settings.

Guilt and shame are powerful tools used within the church to apply pressure to members. Leaders often employ these emotions to encourage compliance and discourage dissent. For example, when church leaders speak about the consequences of sin or the importance of tithing, the underlying message is often one of fear: fear of losing blessings, fear of eternal separation from loved ones, and fear of disappointing God. This fear can be paralyzing, leading members to stay in the church even when they have serious doubts or concerns.

I remember feeling a profound sense of guilt when I considered stepping back from my calling during a personal crisis. The thought of letting down my family, my leaders, or even God himself was enough to keep me tethered to a belief system that no longer worked for me. This guilt was compounded by the church’s teachings on family and eternal relationships, which often frame leaving the church as a betrayal that could result in eternal separation from loved ones. The pressure to maintain these relationships, even at the cost of personal well-being, is a heavy burden to bear.

The Illusion of Agency

One of the most insidious aspects of the pressure within the church is the illusion of agency. Members are taught that they have the freedom to choose, yet this choice is often framed within a narrow set of church-defined parameters. The idea that one can choose to leave the church is often met with dire warnings about the consequences of such a decision, reinforcing the notion that true happiness and fulfillment can only be found within the church’s teachings.

This manipulation of agency can lead to a profound sense of confusion. I often found myself questioning whether my desire to leave was truly my own or a result of external pressures. The church’s narrative suggests that those who leave are succumbing to temptation or being led astray by “seducing spirits.” This framing not only invalidates the experiences of those who leave but also serves to reinforce the idea that dissent is inherently wrong.

Encouraging Manipulation

The pressure to conform is particularly evident in the relationships between parents and children within the church. Many parents are taught that if their children stray from the faith, they risk eternal separation, leading to strict adherence to church teachings. This can create a toxic environment where children feel guilted into compliance, often at the expense of their own well-being. The fear of disappointing family members can be a powerful motivator to remain in the church, even when personal beliefs have shifted.

Within Families

Parents within the church are often taught that if their children stray from the faith, they risk eternal separation. This belief can lead to an environment where strict adherence to church teachings is enforced during childhood. Although I am grateful that my parents respect my autonomy, it took me months to muster the courage to tell them I had left the church. I frequently hear stories of individuals who have left the faith and now struggle with strained relationships with their families who remain. It is heartbreaking to consider that a church, which claims to promote free will, can foster such tragic outcomes.

Many children raised in the church face disciplinary actions if they refuse to attend services or participate in church activities. They often experience shame or guilt for not conforming, especially if their friends are not church members or if they engage with ideas that contradict church teachings. The experience of disclosing one’s departure from the church is often likened to coming out to homophobic parents about one’s sexual orientation, highlighting the deep emotional turmoil involved.

Among Missionaries

Missionaries are trained to be adept manipulators and high-pressure salespeople, often employing tactics such as “love-bombing.” This strategy involves identifying individuals who are vulnerable—those going through a divorce, experiencing job loss, facing homelessness, or navigating new parenthood—and presenting oneself as a supportive friend. Missionaries frequently express love and concern these individuals, despite having little genuine connection. They encourage other church members to join in this support, praying with the individual and sharing comforting scriptures, all while subtly suggesting that joining the church is the solution to their problems. However, once the missionaries leave or become preoccupied with other conversions, the initial support often dissipates, leaving the individual feeling abandoned within the church.

In Leadership

Reflecting on my time in leadership positions during my mission, I feel a deep sense of regret. I now recognize that my ability to be manipulative played a role in my assignments, even though I was unaware of it at the time. My conversations with fellow missionaries reveal that many others share this sentiment. When assisting the mission president in assigning companionships, it became clear that those who garnered his favor were more likely to be promoted to leadership roles. My own promotion to assistant was likely influenced by our shared hometown and the personal rapport we developed.

After my mission, while serving as a singles’ ward clerk, I was tasked with compiling a list of the highest-donating members in the ward to inform leadership decisions. Leadership roles and callings are often assigned with the belief that providing individuals with prestigious positions will make them feel valued and encourage their continued participation. Leadership meetings often felt like strategic sessions, where we were playing a game of chess with people’s spiritual well-being.

Feeling Trapped

Before I made the decision to leave the church, I found myself in the Denver airport, returning from a work trip. As I passed by a restroom, a sign caught my eye that read something along the lines of, “If you feel you cannot leave, you may be a victim of human trafficking.” This statement struck a chord with me and prompted deep reflection on my own experiences within the church.

Throughout that summer, I had been working to process the trauma I experienced during my mission. Standing there in the airport, it suddenly hit me: I had never once felt that I could leave my mission. Even if I had wanted to, the church had my passport, and it was made abundantly clear that any missionary sent home would have to endure a humiliating phone call with their parents and would likely be shunned by their community. This moment made me acutely aware of how trapped I had felt within the confines of my mission and the church as a whole.

As I contemplated my relationship with the church, I compiled a list of the ways I felt constrained. I realized that I never felt I could decline a calling, believing that these assignments were divinely inspired. This sense of obligation weighed heavily on me, as I felt that saying no would be tantamount to rejecting God’s will. The pressure to comply was compounded by the guilt I experienced when family health issues pulled me away from church meetings. I often convinced myself that I wasn’t doing enough for God, leading to a cycle of self-reproach that only deepened my sense of entrapment.

Moreover, I felt silenced when it came to addressing concerns with church leaders. The fear of being perceived as dissenting or unfaithful kept me from voicing my thoughts, even when I witnessed mistakes or harm. This culture of silence extended to my financial obligations as well; I was convinced that failing to pay tithing would lead to dire consequences, including financial ruin. The belief that my worthiness was tied to my contributions created an environment where I felt I had to constantly prove myself.

As I advanced in priesthood offices and served my mission, I did so out of a sense of duty rather than genuine desire. The mantra of “that’s just what I’m supposed to do” echoed in my mind, reinforcing the idea that my path was predetermined and that deviation was not an option. This led me to bear a dishonest testimony, as I feared disappointing both God and those around me. I felt compelled to present a polished image, wearing conservative clothing and hairstyles out of fear of being labeled immodest.

My teenage years were marked by attending unwelcoming church activities simply to keep others happy, even when I felt uncomfortable. I often voted to sustain church leaders without knowing anything about their character, driven by a sense of obligation rather than informed consent. The temple, which was meant to be a sacred space, became a source of trauma and triggering memories, especially after my mission. I participated in worthiness interviews, despite understanding my inherent worth to God, and I prayed and spoke in meetings even when I felt unprepared or uninterested.

Setting boundaries was a foreign concept to me; I never felt empowered to do so, even when I was hurt or uncomfortable. This lack of agency led me to be unkind and judgmental toward those who didn’t fit the church’s mold, despite knowing that Jesus taught love for all. I found myself justifying hateful, bigoted, and otherwise inappropriate actions under the guise of sustaining church leaders and doctrine, further entrenching myself in a system that felt increasingly misaligned with my values.

While my list could go on, I believe this captures the essence of my experience. I constantly felt compelled to give endlessly, often without any evidence that my contributions were genuinely benefiting others. This led to a relentless cycle: I would question whether I was doing too much, reassure myself it was God’s will, feel guilty for wanting to do less, and then double down on my efforts, only to repeat the cycle.

Recovery from Pressure

This may or may not be your experience, but if it resonates with you, know that these feelings are indicative of being in an abusive and manipulative relationship. As I reflect on my own experiences, I recognize that the pressure to conform and the manipulative tactics employed by the church can have lasting effects on mental health and personal identity. The journey of leaving such a high-demand environment is fraught with challenges, but it can also lead to a newfound sense of freedom and authenticity.

By acknowledging the pressures inherent in the church’s high-demand culture, we can better understand the complexities faced by those navigating their faith journeys and the importance of reclaiming one’s agency in the process. Since leaving the church, I have discovered a newfound freedom to be myself and pursue my own path. I believe I am living an honorable life, doing as much good as I can, and it has been liberating to shed the fear, shame, guilt, and pressure that accompanied my relationship with the church.