Sooner Or Later, God'll Cut You Down

I was reading through some old e-mails and I stumbled upon the one I sent to my Bishop two years ago this April. It was right after I had confessed for the first time and was quite traumatized by it. I decided to defer that summer semester because I needed a break from Jesus' campus (BYU-I) and I wanted to further explain my feelings to the Bishop. This e-mail is just very sad to me and reminded me of how much I've struggled in the church, even as a child. I'm posting it below because maybe it will resonate with some, and maybe not. But either way, at one time it was a reflection from someone very sad and lost in an organization she didn't really belong in. Now I don't align myself with that group anymore, and each day, piece by piece I'm slowly shaking off those deep feelings of inadequacy.

Bishop, I hope you don't mind the novel I'm writing you. I'm sorry it's so long but I feel like I didn't say all that I wanted to say for time's sake so I figure I had better write you this novel to further explain my dilemma. When I first came in to see you, you were correct that I thought I could just come in and spill it all and feel much better. Not necessarily that I would get off scott free but that perhaps I would feel a burden lifted and feel better about myself and my place in the world. I was incorrect. I left feeling nervous, anxious, and torn about my decision to come in at all. It was only after talking with my roommates and brother that I felt any relief and comfort. I was very good that week; keeping the Lord in mind, trying my best to keep bad thoughts at bay, reading the scriptures, and a talk each night. After meeting with you again on Sunday I felt better and felt like I could do this. The next day, however, things had changed and suddenly I didn't feel so hopeful anymore. I felt hopeless in fact. I felt discouraged and skeptical of you and of everything really. One of the things I've always had a problem fully accepting is the Atonement and our reason for being here on earth. I feel that often we're set up to fail and that God cuts off his children quickly and ultimately only a few select will make it and I could never make the cut and neither could my parents, so why try when I was never destined to make it to begin with? When I was a child I felt that God hated me and that I was never good enough. As an adult it's branched out to incorporate friends, family, society, and the church. Not only do I fail by society's standards of beauty and charm and intelligence or whatever else we're judged by, but I also fail by the church's standard of being spiritual enough. For the longest time I felt that I was a huge mistake, that God had somehow let me slip through the cracks, that I was never really meant to be at all. I often still feel this way, as well as the feeling that I'm a burden to all those around me, especially my parents. It's easy for me to not care about myself. It feels natural. I care a lot for others and feel optimism for them and hope the best for them, but for me it seems irrelevant most of the time. I've read the Book of Mormon, I've prayed, often times feeling that it's in vain. What I gathered from the scriptures is that God can be very harsh and quick to damn his children. We're told that we are lowly, sinful, we are nothing. This message was even reiterated in Conference. We are nothing. What a profound statement! So not only am I nothing to myself, or to society, but I'm told that to my loving, perfect Heavenly Father, I am nothing. What's the point in trying when at the end of it all, I'll more than likely be cast off because I'm not enough? I was created to fail and to be told again and again that I am sinful, carnal, and that I'm nothing. You may completely disagree with what I'm saying here, and I understand that, but I hope that it gives you some more insight into what I'm feeling and where I'm coming from. I wish I could see it another way, I wish I wasn't frustrated with life, this gospel, with myself, but I am all the same. I'll do the three things that you've asked of me, and I'll do it simply because I want to be at this school and I'll follow it out of respect for you, not for myself. At least not for now. I wish I could see what you see and that for just a moment I could feel pure hope and faith and take comfort in those things but I'm always plagued by other thoughts and feelings that tell me it's pointless, because as long as I'm me I'm not enough and as much as I'd like to think otherwise, it doesn't change a thing.

 

Sincerely, Stacy Chatterton