In some ways I’m very fortunate in my relationship to the Church. Even though I’m really pretty radical on a lot of issues, for the last several years I’ve been very empowered within the Church both formally and informally. I’ve been to every PEC meeting and many Bishopric meetings in the last three years. Hardly a month goes by without me teaching a lesson in some class (it’s been Gospel Doctrine, Elders Quorum, and Institute most commonly). My voice is heard and my influence is felt in a large way. Never has a different view, shaggy hair and a beard, or even a vocal disagreement with the Bishop (even if, looking back, I can see that I sometimes handled it inappropriately) jeopardized that standing. And believe me, what I unleash on my fellow bloggers is nothing in comparison with the fiery and sometimes too-self-righteous indignation my Bishops have had to endure on occasion.
I don’t know if my ability to maintain this empowered status in the face of my unorthodox views and behavior is due to having very patient, understanding local leadership or because I’ve been in inner-city units that don’t have many choices for leadership positions. But whatever the reason, maybe I’ve been luckier than I realize. I say this because a few weeks ago I was talking with my parents (and Bob), and they haven’t been so lucky.
Here’s the story:
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