Faith Crisis

For months, my wife and I each quietly grappled with the unsettling realization that the church we revered might not be all it claimed to be. Yet, we dared not voice these doubts aloud, fearful of the upheaval that would surely follow.

The Shelf Breaks

During times of spiritual crisis, people often speak of a metaphorical “shelf” – a place where one stores the troubling questions and inconsistencies that challenge their beliefs, hoping to address them another day. But as the weight of these doubts grew heavier, my own shelf finally buckled under the strain.

It happened during a research conference in Iowa, where I found myself surrounded by a diverse group of brilliant, happy individuals from all walks of life. As I conversed with these kindred spirits, I was struck by the genuine contentment they exuded—a stark contrast to the unease that had long plagued my own faith.

Watching them freely enjoy simple pleasures I had been taught to shun, I could no longer reconcile the notion of a loving God bestowing truth upon a chosen few, while condemning the rest of humanity to spiritual darkness. In that moment, the foundations of my beliefs began to crumble, and I found myself adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Confronting the Abyss

I could no longer ignore the gaping chasm that had opened beneath my feet. I had to make a choice: either firmly commit to the church’s teachings, or walk away entirely. Trembling, I poured out my heart in prayer, begging for divine guidance.

But the peace and comfort I felt in that moment was not the affirmation I had been conditioned to expect. Instead, it was a profound sense of release, as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. In that instant, I realized that the feelings I had attributed to God’s presence were, in fact, of my own making—a cruel illusion that had kept me tethered to an institution that had caused me, and countless others, immense anguish.

A Liberating Transition

As I grappled with the realization that the church’s claims of divine truth were nothing more than an elaborate illusion, I found myself faced with a stark choice: either cling desperately to the beliefs that had once provided such comfort and certainty, or embark on a perilous journey into the unknown.

In the end, the decision was not as difficult as I had feared. I could no longer in good conscience support an organization that had betrayed my trust and inflicted such deep, lasting wounds. The church’s teachings and actions had become a source of profound discomfort, and I refused to continue bearing the burden of their transgressions.

The moment I severed my ties with the church, I felt a profound sense of liberation wash over me. Gone were the shackles of guilt, shame, and the constant striving for an elusive perfection. In their place, I discovered a newfound joy and authenticity that had long been stifled.

I savored the simple pleasures I had once been taught to shun—the refreshing taste of tea, the energizing kick of coffee, and the freedom to keep 100% of the fruits of my own labor. These small acts of defiance against the church’s dictates felt like acts of rebellion, each one a joyful reclamation of my autonomy.

To my immense relief and gratitude, my wife and I decided to leave the church at the same time. Together, we embarked on a transformative journey, shedding the weight of dogma and expectation that had long burdened our lives. Sunday mornings, once filled with the dread of triggering and uninspiring church meetings, became a time of respite and rejuvenation. We reveled in the freedom to spend our time as we saw fit, to be generous and kind without the constraints of institutional obligations.

But perhaps the most profound change was the sense of finally being “allowed” to be a good person. Without the church’s influence, I was free to support causes I truly believed in, to help others directly rather than funneling my resources into a multi-billion-dollar organization’s coffers.

My relationships blossomed as I shed the anxiety and shame that had long plagued me. Friendships became more meaningful, and I felt a deep sense of connection with people who had also chosen to forge their own paths.

One of the letters I am most proud to have received is the confirmation of my resignation from the church. To me, it represents the culmination of months of agonizing self-reflection and the courage to confront the harsh realities that had been hidden from me for so long.

This document is not merely a piece of paper, but a symbol of my transformation—a testament to the hard work and emotional turmoil that led me to this pivotal moment. It gives me hope for the person I am becoming, unencumbered by the shackles of an institution that has caused me, and countless others, immense harm.

While I believe the church’s claims of membership and ordinances hold no true significance, I am grateful to have formally disassociated myself from an organization that has betrayed my trust and continues to inflict trauma upon millions. This letter is a reminder that I have the power to shape my own destiny, to live a life guided by my own moral compass, and to embrace the boundless possibilities that await me beyond the confines of my former faith.