That’s a simple question that occurred to me over the course of last week while reading posts here at W&T (here and here) that ask the opposite question: Why do people leave the Church? The exit question gets kicked around a lot in online discussions but I don’t see many serious discussions about LDS conversion. Let’s have one.
Here is my comment in one of those earlier exit threads, highlighting the gap between what LDS leaders and members typically recite as reasons people leave versus actual reasons why people leave:
Here’s the thing. Some of those who voluntarily exit the Church (whether formally or informally) do so because they no longer accept the list of LDS truth claims. Other leave without particular regard to “truth,” but rather because participating in LDS church is no longer a positive thing for them or is largely a negative thing in their life. They think they are better off without the Church in their life.
But LDS leaders absolutely cannot accept either of these fairly straightforward observations. They cannot and will not say, “Some people left because they figured out the Church is not true.” Nor can they ever acknowledge that some people are better off without the Church, true or not. So we hear a variety of explanations for why people leave, some worse than others but pretty much none of them having much accuracy. These pseudo-explanations are designed to confuse LDS listeners, not explain anything.
I could have worded that first response in a softer way, maybe “Some people left because their religious convictions changed; they no longer affirmed the standard set of LDS truth claims, either retreating to a set of standard Christian truth claims or just dropping any claims to Big Truth for the moment until they can figure it all out.” But I don’t want to rewrite or rehash that discussion. I want to move on to the inverse question of why people join the Church in the first place. Is the Church narrative about why people join the Church as unrelated to the actual experience of actual people who join the Church as the Church narrative about why people choose to exit?
This isn’t a discussion that pertains only to converts. It is relevant to you lifers as well as converts like me, although they are slightly different discussions. [Aside: That’s what we do here at W&T, at other LDS-themed blogs, and in other online spaces. We have interesting conversations about topics and news related to the Church. Some find it enlightening or enjoyable or therapeutic, others weigh in with contrary points of view, and some are just offended by the whole enterprise. If this isn’t your cup of tea, feel free to move along and go about your day doing other enjoyable and productive tasks.]
Converts
The Church narrative is fairly straightforward, rooted in the assumption that all LDS truth claims are, in fact, true and it’s just a question of whether any interested LDS investigator (missionaries call them “friends” now) discovers that truth or not. So here is the one-sentence narrative that you are probably quite familiar with: “LDS investigator listens to LDS missionaries give few lessons or discussions on Joseph Smith, LDS priesthood, and the founding of the Church, then they read a few chapters of the Book of Mormon, then they come to church a time or two, then they pray and get a confirmation from the Holy Ghost, then they accept baptism and join the Church.”
The first real-world fact to consider is that lots and lots of people take a step or two or three down that narrative path (call it “the Conversion Path”) but never get to “conversion” and baptism. Many readers have served LDS missions. What was your experience? Of those individuals or families who have at least one sit-down discussion with a pair of LDS missionaries, maybe one in ten or one in twenty ever visit an LDS Church on Sunday? Maybe one in a hundred ever formally join the Church and accept baptism?
I’m making a serious point here. Those numbers are relevant to how we ought to view the Conversion Path narrative. If it purports to explain why one in a hundred people who have a serious conversation with LDS missionaries eventually join the Church, then it should also try to explain why 99 out of 100 people who have a serious conversation with LDS missionaries do not do so.
Look, if you visit your doctor with a serious condition and she gives you a prescription saying, “This should help. Take it with food and you will only throw up once in a while.” You say, “Wow, sounds potent. What’s the likelihood this will actually cure my condition?” If the doctor replies, “Oh, maybe one in a hundred,” you might reply with, “I’m not sure you know what ‘this should help’ means. A placebo would give better results.” The Conversion Path narrative is, honestly, a Non-Conversion Path narrative.
And here is the second point. Let’s look at that one in a hundred that does accept baptism. The Church assumption is that if they joined they of course followed the Conversion Path. Is that always the case? Generally the case? Sometimes the case? My sense is that sometimes people join because they like the missionaries or get a good feeling in an LDS sacrament meeting or like the friendly discussion in LDS Sunday school. Or think it’s a good place to raise kids or have a spouse or family member who reassures them and encourages them. Or have a strong emotional response when praying or listening to an LDS talk and accept the LDS framing that such a response is God, the Holy Ghost, telling them the Church is true and they should be baptized.
But I think a lot of LDS converts never have that golden prayer response, they just join up because they like what they see and like the people they meet. “Hey, these are nice people and this seems like a nice place to go to church on Sunday.” Or, “Hey, these are nice people, and it will really make my wife happy.” Nothing wrong with that, it’s just not the Conversion Path narrative. Let me state my claim more directly: The Church recites the Conversion Path narrative as if it is an accurate description of how and why all or most converts actually join the Church, when many, probably a majority, have a rather different experience with a variety of motivations. In other words, the Church narrative misrepresents how and why people join the Church in much the same way that it misrepresents how and why people leave the Church.
Lifers
I’ll make this short and readers can expand if so moved. LDS adults sort of pretend that eight-year-olds make a decision to join the Church or have gone through a conversion process, but that’s not really how the conversion of Lifers is portrayed even in LDS talks and curriculum. Instead, LDS youth (and adults, when it applies) are encouraged to do all of those Mormony things (go to class, go to Seminary, read the Scriptures, pray, pray, pray) and get their own testimony. Which is then founded on some sort of strong emotional response to just about anything, whether reading the Book of Mormon or attending a Mormon youth camp or doing a service activity or engaging in personal prayer. Any response in any Mormon context will do. That’s it, that’s your conversion anchor, you’ve got your testimony. The personal testimony narrative that emerges at the pulpit in Testimony Meeting is not as straightforward as the typical convert story — and LDS love convert stories, don’t we? — but it sort of works.
Here’s the problem with the Church’s Lifer Path narrative. Real-world data shows most people stay in the church they were raised in. That holds for all churches. It’s just sociological fact and human nature. Most of us are sheep that just keep doing what we were raised to do (explicitly or implicitly) by our parents and family. I’m not just making this up, I asked the Google and here is what the AI summary says:
According to research from Barna Group, around 60-70% of people who attended church as children continue to attend regularly as adults, meaning a significant portion stay in the church they were raised in, although this number can vary depending on denomination and other factors; however, a substantial number still leave their childhood church as they mature.
So, statistically, a Mormon Lifer isn’t really any different from a Catholic Lifer or a Lutheran Lifer or a Jehovah’s Witness Lifer. The story a Mormon Lifer tells is likely to mirror the Church’s Lifer Path narrative because, well, that’s how they have been programmed to think. It takes a fair degree of self-awareness and candor for a Mormon Lifer to acknowledge they are still attending church, accepting callings, and writing checks because they were raised LDS, not because some deep personal experience in an LDS context gave godly confirmation of their LDS testimony. Because that explanation, from the LDS perspective, doesn’t really work for all those Catholic and Lutheran and JW Lifers, does it? So the LDS Lifer Path narrative isn’t any more accurate (in terms of real-world facts) than the Conversion Path.
Before throwing you some prompts to incite interesting comments, let me give a caveat. This is a one-hour set of reflections on LDS conversion narratives compared to actual LDS conversion experience. I don’t have a degree in sociology. I haven’t read Emile Durkheim. I haven’t dug up online research papers giving models and crunching data. The data here is going to be your responses, actual experiences of actual people. I suspect a dozen honest accounts from readers about their LDS conversion (following or radically departing from the Conversion Path or Lifer Path narratives) will produce more accurate data than the average LDS senior leader gets in a lifetime. The Conversion Path and Lifer Path narratives are built on assumptions, not data. That’s my sense. What do you think?
- If you are a Convert, did your decision to join up follow the Conversion Path? Or was your experience something rather different?
- If you are a Lifer, was your decision to remain active as an adult in line with the LDS Lifer Path narrative? Or something different?
- Have you ever heard a non-testimony testimony? On Fast Sunday, a speaker says, “Nope, never had a strong prayer response, never a big spiritual experience. I don’t really have a testimony, I’m just happy to attend each week and serve in the Primary.”
Wheat & Tares 
My dad joined the church as a convert. For my dad, it was that the church doctrine answered key questions and provided a community that led him to having a better, more connected life. The WoW and other “rules” really worked for him and provided a measure of security from some of the trauma that he grew up with. It also helped him to raise us children in a better environment then what was probably likely to happen. My mom was also a convert to the church and has had numerous faith struggles over the years. It is working for her now to give her a community and a space for her spirituality and wisdom.
Most of the kids have left the church community for a variety of reasons. My family distinction is that I was one of the ones who was “most righteous” and stayed engaged for the longest among the siblings (having a longer life span is part of that equation), and that my disengagement was a longer process.
We’ve all seen the discussion about the difference between utility Mormons (the Church and/or LDS community works for them and/or their family) and validity Mormons (the Church’s truth claims are valid/true to them). I suppose folks who join the Church can mostly be identified by these two characteristics too.
On converts: I served a mission in Brazil from 2001 to 2003, and we all know context matters a lot in any missionary anecdotal data. The 1/100 is probably right for random encounters (knocking doors) because most of those discussions aren’t serious. Baptism rates for people who are serious about the missionaries are probably much higher. In my experience it was at least 10%, and maybe 20-30%? (It’s been a few decades) Of course that still isn’t 100%, and I remember grappling with the instances on my mission where I felt like investigators had 1) thought about what we taught, 2) read something in the BoM on their own, 3) gone to church and 4) sincerely prayed and yet didn’t come up with the “right answer”.
On lifers (me?): Do I count as a lifer? I still go to church every week. I’ve also pretty much written off large sections of church doctrine/policy (who can tell the difference anymore?) I’m still a big fan of Jesus, but increasingly don’t feel like He’s very involved in the day-to-day business of the church. LDS doctrine is very tough on people who want to be a part of a church, but don’t feel that this is the church. But if I don’t count as a lifer anymore, then I think that removes most W&T commenters.
I was raised in a very typical Utah Mormon home. Very active, but without hitting any extremes or zealotry. We attended every Sunday, but sometimes skipped stake conference. We had family prayer, but not scripture study. We had FHE about twice a year. We all graduated from seminary, but also drank caffeine. I served a mission, married in the temple and graduated from BYU (in that order). I served in lots of callings, sang in the ward choir, and, if anything, started raising my kids in a more religious home. We read scriptures together often, always went to stake conference (sometimes even the adult session!), had FHE 5 or 6 times per year and still drank caffeine. If this blog post had found me about 6 years ago, this next sentence would be about a lifetime’s worth of small experiences building my testimony and keeping me in the church I was born into. A posterchild of the standard unremarkable Mormon conversion story. Essentially, I was the LDS Lifer Path narrative. Until I wasn’t. I’ll be curious to see other comments as to whether folks find the LDS Lifer Path for a second time, or what the other options are. (Only one comment as I typed this, but sometimes by the time I figure out what to say there are already a dozen more comments.)
As a lifer, I did follow the Lifer Path narrative, which is kind of surprising on one hand, but not really. As a child in elementary school, I would not admit membership to anyone. That of course caused some of my first shame – I would deny the church (and therefore Christ)! No, at a very basic level, I didn’t like the church and was uncomfortable with my association. As a teen, I hated church yet had the full expectation that I would remain a member when I became an adult. Looking back, I wish I could tell my younger self to honor my feelings and see the contradiction in the hate/stay plan. Logically, why would I stay with something I hated? I guess I thought I would like it better later. I guess I did to a degree and I sure tried hard to do everything right, though it was never enough.
I am not surprised that many keep with the faith they were raised in. In the LDS world, I feel like the generational pressure (for those of us who have pioneer-ish stock) is an added level of pressure. My grandparents sacrificed a LOT to come here for the gospel – how could I abandon those sacrifices? My parents fully expected each child to continue the faith. One of my brothers left in his mid/late 20s. He was lucky, my parents didn’t abandon him, but their disappointment was heavily felt. It was a wedge. Additionally, the indoctrination starts so young, particularly with repetitive primary songs (Follow the Prophet…) that it’s not surprising many keep with it. The guilt associated with abandoning the “one true church” can be steep. Indoctrination (which most religions do, so not particularly unique), family pressure, spousal pressure, and depending on where you live, social pressure all influence one to stay with the faith. A lot of those pressures influenced me.
There’s no way to know because information is not shared, but it seems like more people are leaving than before, which is interesting. All the pressures which seemed to have worked fairly well in the past, are failing to keep members as involved. I credit the internet, which gives access to information that was hidden for decades from the members. I remember 30 years ago, someone gave my non-member husband some anti-mormon literature telling him what we believed. I was so angry. How dare he try and tell me what I believed! I knew what I believed and what I was taught. I wasn’t ready for whatever it was then. The problem is that I wasn’t taught or informed about a lot of key points. I do think it’s a fair expectation that members know the true history and beliefs of the organization they belong to, not the sanitized version with erased information. What a conundrum for the church: share truths that contradict what they’ve taught/hidden for a century plus and make members question everything OR just keep hiding it? The second option has been chosen for the most part, but the thing about secrets is they always seem to come to light and they often burn you.
I pretty much followed the “lifer path”. I came from a super active family, and after studying and praying, I felt like I had experiences that convinced me that everything in Mormonism was true. For me, it wasn’t something I just believed, it was the reality that I lived in (and I really liked it). I was maybe a little over-zealous about the church and gospel for much of my life. After many of the things that I was convinced were true turned out not to be true, it really shattered my reality – and I now live in a completely different reality than I lived in before (but I like my new reality as well). I still have strong beliefs and a “testimony”, it’s just that my many of my beliefs are different than the correlated doctrine of the LDS church. I still attend church for the community and the youth programs for my kids, with a “take the good, leave the bad” approach.
As a missionary, I served in a very Catholic country. I was constantly meeting people who believed in Christ and were seeking to follow God. I often thought, “Why doesn’t God tell more people to be Mormon? These are people who are faithfully trying to serve and follow Him, and they would listen if He told them to join our church.” The conclusion that I came to is: “God doesn’t want or need everyone to be Mormon. Otherwise He would do things differently.” A later conclusion that came from that was “I don’t NEED to be Mormon either.” That realization was very freeing for me. But as I said before, I still like the Mormon lifestyle, and it’s still sort of working for me, for now.
I would be classified by my behaviors as a “Female Lifer” and/but…
My spouse and I drifted in activity for years because church attendance wasn’t working for him and it was easier for him to just “be faithful and sick” then be honest. Sometimes I righteously rebelled against him and went religiously. Sometimes, I “played hooky” with him. This meant that when I was more active, we had the appearance of the “part-member family” and I felt the social ramifications of that and felt that it was my job “to fix the system for him (and vice versa)”. Eventually, we stopped paying tithing because we were dirt poor and needed the money for food and medical expenses. My husband stopped even trying to attend because his body developed autoimmune complications that were highly sensitive to the fragrances found in most buildings (especially the church building).
Primary never managed to capture the attention of my oldest. I spent a good 6 years trying to “fix the system” and “teach my child” so that it work with negative results. It wasn’t fair to my child to expect her to be someone she wasn’t. It wasn’t fair to me to throw my resources at solutions that were only holding our collective heads above water – but no real progress was being made. And I was doing most of the heavy lifting because my husband was sick.
COVID was that catalyst for me to stop attending, but I had been drifting into realizing that “the church system” was harming my husband, was harming me, and was harming my children by it’s expectations as I understood them. And part of why I walked away was because “I provide” and “I preside” and I didn’t want to be seen as a caretaker or nurturer – we are all “caretakers” and I do not see myself as a nurturer. It felt like my lived experience was not considered in the systems we practiced and in the doctrine we preached – and that mattered to me.
I am a lifer so I’ve never gone through the process of converting to a religion (yes, I have had spiritually confirming experiences but I’ve never been in the position of changing to a new religion). The conversion stories that have always seemed most real to me were those of young adults. This would be older teens and college age persons who join the church and become lifers themselves. This makes sense to me as young adults are in a position to make important life decisions.
So if I were not born a lifer, I can see the possibility that as a young adult I might have become LDS. If I had married and had a family outside the LDS realm, there is a small chance as a young family we might have joined if the social conditions had been right. I will attest that the LDS religion and social system was extremely valuable to me as a child and teenager and then it was extremely helpful to me when I had a young family.
The more I age the more disappointment I feel about the LDS church. I enjoy what I get out of it but I lack the confidence and enthusiasm that the church is what other people need. Where once upon the time I believed the church worked for everyone and would be of value to everyone, now I am not sure. I see a church that provides a certain experience and those who tap into that experience will get something out of it. But the church is no longer a Community that provides many things to many people.
I must emphasize that I greatly value my Faith and Love of the Gospel. The Love of God is the Rock of my Religion and it is a thing I share with my Family. The LDS religion is the church that my family is attached to and that works for us. I don’t see that attachment changing – I am very tolerant of LDS Leadership policy bingo – you know, pulling ideas seemingly random out of barrel. As low as my confidence is in the LDS church leadership, I have even less confidence I could find a “better” church. LOL
Aporetic1 “Why doesn’t God tell more people to be Mormon?
This, I think, is a serious question that deserves serious consideration. When we read Joseph Smith’s account (the 1838 version), the answer he said he received, to not join any of the Churches, immediately took on a universal implication. God’s call to Joseph became everyone else’s call “through Joseph”. When Joseph was told not to join other churches, we assume his personal experience replaced everyone else’s personal experience and call to God. The resulting religious movement has largely been to encourage people to be a secondhand witness, meaning to testify that what someone else saw is true. This kind of emphasis on “testimony” as a confirmation of Joseph Smith’s vision is like asking a brother of a sibling who saw the car accident to testify to what his sibling saw, based on a feeling they have been granted. If we heard this kind of witness, we would immediately call into question the validity of the sibling as well, and consider the secondhand testimony as hearsay, if not a false testimony. As far as I can tell, the religious experience, even scripturally has always been about seeking a personal divine experience, which pours over into the creation of a more divine social structure.
Your question also begs the question, is God actually a really poor communicator?
Why, if you are born in Thailand, you have a 99% chance of being Atheist, but if you are born in America, God seems infinitely more capable of communicating the saving Christian message? So, by zero choice of your own, by nothing more than chance, and possibly a racist God, the Thai people have not received any direct Godly communication but sit unknowingly waiting for the White people to share salvation with them.
Thanks for the comments, everyone.
Let me clear up my perhaps confusing terminology. I think “Convert” is clear, but by “Lifer” I mean someone who was born into and raised in the Church. The LDS terminology is “born in the covenant,” so you can see why I created a different term. We should invent a term for those, whether Convert or Lifer, who steadfastly remain fully active in the Church until death. How about Deathbed Mormons. How about TTD Mormons (Tithing ‘Til I Die).
LDS are good at creating loaded and even offensive terms (like calling other Christians “Gentiles”) but of course get offended when other Christians use the same tactic, calling Mormons heretics (because we reject traditional Christian beliefs) and now even when Mormons are “Mormons” (no, we are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). Even the stubborn insistence on claiming and requiring the shortened form, “The Church of Jesus Christ,” is mildly offensive, with the built-in claim that *we* are Jesus Christ’s church, and the rest of you guys are in somebody else’s church.
josh h, Utility Mormons versus Validity Mormons. That’s a new one for me.
I have been a lifelong member for 77 years, and am only now sorting out everything I can no longer believe. I no longer attend, but continue ministering because that is the only part I believe in. I don’t regret my life, but I don’t see the Mormon church as true and very often not good either. I see the god of JS as misogynistic, racist, violent, and morally ambivalent.
I don’t think any discussion about the conversion experience of those raised in a church is complete without referring to Langston Hughes’ “Salvation.” It’s short enough, I’ll just copy it here if you haven’t read it. We read it in high school, and I’ve never forgotten it.
“Salvation” by Langston Hughes
I was saved from sin when I was going on thirteen. But not really saved. It happened like this. There was a big revival at my Auntie Reed’s church. Every night for weeks there had been much preaching, singing, praying, and shouting, and some very hardened sinners had been brought to Christ, and the membership of the church had grown by leaps and bounds. Then just before the revival ended, they held a special meeting for children, “to bring the young lambs to the fold.” My aunt spoke of it for days ahead. That night I was escorted to the front row and placed on the mourners’ bench with all the other young sinners, who had not yet been brought to Jesus.
My aunt told me that when you were saved you saw a light, and something happened to you inside! And Jesus came into your life! And God was with you from then on! She said you could see and hear and feel Jesus in your soul. I believed her. I had heard a great many old people say the same thing and it seemed to me they ought to know. So I sat there calmly in the hot, crowded church, waiting for Jesus to come to me.
The preacher preached a wonderful rhythmical sermon, all moans and shouts and lonely cries and dire pictures of hell, and then he sang a song about the ninety and nine safe in the fold, but one little lamb was left out in the cold. Then he said: “Won’t you come? Won’t you come to Jesus? Young lambs, won’t you come?” And he held out his arms to all us young sinners there on the mourners’ bench. And the little girls cried. And some of them jumped up and went to Jesus right away. But most of us just sat there.
A great many old people came and knelt around us and prayed, old women with jet-black faces and braided hair, old men with work-gnarled hands. And the church sang a song about the lower lights are burning, some poor sinners to be saved. And the whole building rocked with prayer and song.
Still I kept waiting to see Jesus.
Finally all the young people had gone to the altar and were saved, but one boy and me. He was a rounder’s son named Westley. Westley and I were surrounded by sisters and deacons praying. It was very hot in the church, and getting late now. Finally Westley said to me in a whisper: “God damn! I’m tired o’ sitting here. Let’s get up and be saved.” So he got up and was saved.
Then I was left all alone on the mourners’ bench. My aunt came and knelt at my knees and cried, while prayers and song swirled all around me in the little church. The whole congregation prayed for me alone, in a mighty wail of moans and voices. And I kept waiting serenely for Jesus, waiting, waiting – but he didn’t come. I wanted to see him, but nothing happened to me. Nothing! I wanted something to happen to me, but nothing happened.
I heard the songs and the minister saying: “Why don’t you come? My dear child, why don’t you come to Jesus? Jesus is waiting for you. He wants you. Why don’t you come? Sister Reed, what is this child’s name?”
“Langston,” my aunt sobbed.
“Langston, why don’t you come? Why don’t you come and be saved? Oh, Lamb of God! Why don’t you come?”
Now it was really getting late. I began to be ashamed of myself, holding everything up so long. I began to wonder what God thought about Westley, who certainly hadn’t seen Jesus either, but who was now sitting proudly on the platform, swinging his knickerbockered legs and grinning down at me, surrounded by deacons and old women on their knees praying. God had not struck Westley dead for taking his name in vain or for lying in the temple. So I decided that maybe to save further trouble, I’d better lie, too, and say that Jesus had come, and get up and be saved.
So I got up.
Suddenly the whole room broke into a sea of shouting, as they saw me rise. Waves of rejoicing swept the place. Women leaped in the air. My aunt threw her arms around me. The minister took me by the hand and led me to the platform.
When things quieted down, in a hushed silence, punctuated by a few ecstatic “Amens,” all the new young lambs were blessed in the name of God. Then joyous singing filled the room.
That night, for the first time in my life but one for I was a big boy twelve years old – I cried. I cried, in bed alone, and couldn’t stop. I buried my head under the quilts, but my aunt heard me. She woke up and told my uncle I was crying because the Holy Ghost had come into my life, and because I had seen Jesus. But I was really crying because I couldn’t bear to tell her that I had lied, that I had deceived everybody in the church, that I hadn’t seen Jesus, and that now I didn’t believe there was a Jesus anymore, since he didn’t come to help me.
Thanks for the comments, everyone.
Hawkgrrrl, that story has the same vibe as Ursula K. LeGuin’s short story The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas.
A few years ago, I was in New York City on business for 2 weeks or so. There are no mountains to climb in NYC (my online alias is “mountainclimber”, after all), so when I visit big cities, I tend to go on very long urban hikes/walks when I have some free time. One evening, I was just randomly walking through some part of Brooklyn or Queens when I happened upon a building from which emanated quite a lot of noise. The door was open, so being curious, I peeked inside. I very quickly realized it was a religious service of some sort, and after standing at the door for a minute or two, an usher or someone from the congregation signaled that I was welcome to enter and take a seat, which I did.
It turned out that I had managed to sit in on a pentecostal service of some sort (actually I don’t know if it was technically a pentecostal service, but it was some sort of charismatic Christian service). To say that the service was livelier than a Mormon sacrament meeting is a candidate for understatement of the year. There was a band with trumpets, saxophones, and drums. There were people speaking in tongues. There were people fainting because they were overcome with the Spirit. I found the whole experience to be very educational and fun.
I really don’t like to be dismissive or critical of other people’s spiritual experiences, and I certainly was very respectful at this religious service, but I couldn’t help internally thinking to myself that these people are almost certainly not actually speaking in tongues or being overcome by the Spirit to the point of fainting. I think that some of the people there *thought* they were having these experiences. I imagine that there were people there who were “lifers” who had convinced themselves that they were truly able to speak in tongues or to be overtaken by the Spirit to the point of fainting. Likewise, there were also likely some converts there who had had to go through the process of “learning” to speak in tongues and to “faint” when the Spirit was too strong. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a number of pentecostal PIMOs in the room who were knowingly faking everything to fit in while there were also a number of very TBM pentecostals there who really felt that their speaking in tongues and fainting was real.
Following the service, as I walked into the New York City night and for the remainder of my time there, I reflected on how easy it was for me to make my “objective” observations of a Pentecostal religious service as an outsider, but how I had been oblivious to the parallel Mormon experience when I was younger because I’m a “lifer”. Growing up in the Church and throughout my adolescence, I was indoctrinated with “Church Lifer Path” over and over again. I really struggled to accept that the small, emotional feelings I very occasionally had when doing Church things was the Holy Ghost giving me a “testimony”. As a BYU freshman, I really wasn’t sure that I should go on a mission because I just didn’t feel like I had any idea whether the Church was true or not. I followed “the formula” and read the Book of Mormon cover to cover and prayed earnestly for quite a long time. Nothing. I felt nothing. When I finished the Book of Mormon, I really prayed hard and I really still wasn’t feeling anything, so I feel like I kind of manufactured some sort of emotion within myself, which didn’t amount to much (if anything), but I just took that to be my answer. I submitted my mission papers, and the rest is history. As a missionary, I had to teach people about feeling the Spirit many times, and I would frequently share my story of reading the Book of Mormon and praying to decide to go on a mission. I always felt kind of dirty sharing this experience since I wasn’t really sure anything had happened myself.
The “Church Lifer Path” or “Church Convert Path” may look quite a bit different for Mormons versus Pentecostals, but under the covers I think the same emotional and psychological processes are happening. Just as there are sincere Mormons who feel like their quiet emotional responses are proof that the Church is true, there are devout Pentecostals who feel the same way about their speaking in tongues and fainting with the Spirit. I think there are a lot of Mormons and Pentecostals who are very sincere about their spiritual experiences–they aren’t consciously faking them–yet they have likely misinterpreted or unknowingly fabricated these experiences. Likewise, there are a lot of Mormons and Pentecostals who are knowing faking their spiritual experiences just to fit in.
I remember needing to “overcome [a convert’s] objections” only one time on my mission. Otherwise, the lessons felt mostly like a formality, with investigators having preemptively decided to convert. I can count on one hand the number of times I was invited inside to teach a sit-down lesson without being invited back. And, while anecdotal, I get the sense that my experience was fairly standard for a stateside mission (13-15). We didn’t really convince anyone to join the church, though that could have something to do with my firm testimony that the Spirit was the instrument of conversion; I suppose you could chalk that up to laziness on my part.
Along those lines, it should come as no surprise that the conversions trended mostly from irreligion to religion, rather than one group to another. One couple had recently disaffiliated from their church after a negative experience, but they weren’t looking for an intellectual conversion. And the one I mentioned earlier took specific issue, as a Catholic, with priesthood authority. For the most part, though, I taught part-member families, referrals, etc. with a strong social motivation for joining.
What’s interesting is that my own grandparents joined because of a genuine spiritual/intellectual conversion, and I get the sense that the same holds true for many of their generation (let’s say those who converted in the 50s-80s). My sample size is admittedly somewhat small, but from my interactions with active Boomers who fit that description, it appears many of them gained a testimony of some specific doctrine (the Book of Mormon, the Godhead, eternal families, etc.) that they didn’t have previously, or that they saw as unique/essential to their participation. And tons of conversion stories from the Ensign/Liahona follow that pattern, but I suppose that’s not indicative of anything other than editorial bias.
TL;DR there appears to be a shift from validity conversions to utility conversions (referring to the framework josh h shared earlier). That seems to correlate with a growing general shift in the Church; I’m happy to explain further, but this comment has gone on long enough.
Thanks for the comments, Mountain and Dylan.
Mountain, that’s exactly what I think happens in some (half? most?) Lifers — over time they fit their story to the Lifer Path narrative, whether that actually matches their experience or not. Again, there is nothing wrong with that, growing up in a church, liking the teachings and the people and the whole vibe, and just going with it.
Dylan, yes the “Ensign/Liahona pattern” is exactly the Conversion Path narrative I’m talking about. I’m sure if some Ensign writer interviewed a promising young convert, but discovered experience that ran quite counter to the Conversion Path narrative, they would not write it, and if they did it would not be published.
I also think you are on to something comparing generations. I suspect the actual experience of most converts was rather different in the 50s to the 80s, sort of the golden era for missionary success and Church growth, than it is in the 21st century. It’s probably overstating it to say that the focus has shifted from truth to feelings, but not by much.
“Why, if you are born in Thailand, you have a 99% chance of being Atheist…”
(googles “major religion of Thailand,” vaguely remembers that it starts with a B)
my story is just that I fell in love with a Mormon guy. I always went to church with my family as I was growing up. Mormons believed in god and Jesus…….what could be so hard. Jumped in with both feet. Hubby was liberal and the older I got the more I realized how different Mormons were……but they were nice……so I stayed. I’m 85 now…….I stay for the community bubble I live in and live “the rules” on my own terms.