I Am Unashamed

November 15, 2009 4:09 PM - Anonymous said: "How can you be black and be such a supporting member of an organization that was officially racist until 1978? And still teaches to this day that the Curse of Cain is manifest in black people? Shame on you."

Sista Laurel's response:
We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may.

Above is the 11th Article of Faith of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The line in that sentence that stood out to me the most as I pondered and prayed on this question was: “according to the dictates of our own conscience.”

Dic-tate [v. dik-teyt, dik-teyt; n. dik-teyt] verb, -tat-ed, -tat-ing, noun
6. a guiding or governing principle, requirement, etc.: to follow the dictates of one's conscience.

Con-science [kon-shuh ns] –noun
1. the inner sense of what is right or wrong in one's conduct or motives, impelling one toward right action: to follow the dictates of conscience.
2. the complex of ethical and moral principles that controls or inhibits the actions or thoughts of an individual.

"How can you be black and be such a supporting member of an organization that was officially racist until 1978? And still teaches to this day that the Curse of Cain is manifest in black people? Shame on you."

I know that I am a child of God. A loving Heavenly Father provided a Savior for me, Jesus Christ. I have gained this testimony through experiences both spiritual and temporal. I strive to live a Christ-like life, but I am imperfect. I have fallen short, I do fall short, I will fall short. I am thankful for the knowledge that Jesus Christ died for my sins, so that I have the opportunity to stand again each time I fall. My testimony, this knowledge, and this goal have all contributed in my decision to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I have always thought of spirituality and faith as being personal. This thought process has helped me to develop a personal relationship with God and Jesus Christ. Also, I find that my faith is not sedentary. With each passing day it can grow and it can waiver and in both instances I rely heavily on these personal relationships. If at any time I have questions regarding religion, my faith, spirituality, membership in the church to which I belong, etc., I have always consulted with the Lord through prayer and have always received answers to my prayers.

Through my testimony in prayer and according to the dictates of my own conscience I am an unashamed member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Sista Laurel


Sista Beehive's response:
Pastor Rick Warren, was asked the question, " Do all religions lead to God"? His response was, "Think about the logic of this. Can I go into a phone booth and dial any phone number and get home? No, there’s only one number that’ll get me home. I could be sincere, but I could be sincerely wrong. The truth is, all roads don’t lead to Rome and all roads and all religions don’t lead to God".

In following that same thought pattern the scriptures teach in John 14:6 Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

While it is not my responsibility to try to explain away the painful, yet historic teachings of past church practices (not only in the LDS Church). Nor is it my intention to defend the crippeling history of our "free" country, a place that we all call home. Jesus is the way, Jesus, my elder brother, the only one who could, atoned and sacrificed for me, he alone is the truth and the light.

I am grateful for parents who taught me to recognize and yield to the teachings of the Holy Ghost. I'm grateful that I was blessed with a strong Pentacostal family that encouraged me to develop a personal relationship with the Lord, so that when the time came in my life where I would need to testify of the truthfullness of the Holy Ghost I would be able to do so in my own words. So that when the day came for me to become a soilder in God's army, I would be armed with a truth that I was willing to stand on and if needs be die for. I have found that truth in the church that I've choosen to embrace.

I have a personal relationship with my Father in heaven who loves me and has been merciful to me. It is ultimately because of this love that I feel "No Shame"!! for my choice in worshiping the Lord my God, in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I make no apologies to my anonymous Brotha/Sista for being a member of the LDS church. Just as I make no apologies to any of the Brothas/Sistas of the LDS faith for the race, or lineage that I was born into.

Jesus atoned for me! He suffered and died! It is because of his love for me that eternal life and not death is possible. In closing, I feel that it's approiate for us all to be reminded: "Love thy neighbor" is not a cliché; it is a commandment from God. In Matthew 22:37–39, Jesus emphasized the importance of loving the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul and all your mind and loving your neighbor as yourself. He said, all the other commandments, all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments (v. 40).

Sista Beehive

Read More

Shame On You!!

Anonymous - November 15, 2009 4:09 PM

How can you be black and be such a supporting member of an organization that was officially racist until 1978? And still teaches to this day that the Curse of Cain is manifest in black people?

Shame on you.

We know that this isn't typically done, and if this post makes any of our readers feel uncomfortable we apologize.

Many of our Brothas and Sistas get this question regularly, this is our post for today, we wanted you - our readers, Sistas and Brothas to share with us your response. It was originally posted in the comments section of "It's Not My Turn To Pray". We responded, but felt that we needed to address this issue in a direct, yet sensitive manner.

We'd like to hear your response, to our "Anonymous Brotha/Sista". As we will prayerfully try to articulate our individual feelings and why we feel the way we do about our membership in the Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter Day Saints. We will post our individual feelings/testimonies tomorrow. Thank You

Be Blessed!

Sistas Beehive & Laurel

Read More

Joy Comes In The Morning

I woke up this morning after having a wonderful dream. I dreamed about my parents, Susie Mae and Arthur Lee. Although Susie and Arthur are my grandparents, they are the ones that raised me. I'm usually referring to Susie and Arthur when I'm talking about my parents. Susie and Arthur have both passed away and I miss them, especially during this time of year.

I don't dream of them very often so when I do it's always bitter sweet. I often wonder if I'm doing things that are pleasing to them and that bring honor to our family name. Most of time I feel that I am, especially at this time in my life, however, memories although funny now are somewhat painful. It wasn't very often that both parents were disappointed in me. Nevertheless there were occasions that I know that both parents were, even though they were never able to express their disappointment. One occasion was shortly after my father passed away, and my mother had just gotten out of the hospital, after suffering a debilitating stroke 6 months earlier.

I'm sure that these feeling aren't unique to me alone. I do know that I will see them again, at that time in my life, I'm hopeful that the reunion of our family will overshadow my moment of stupidity. If in this life we could have do overs, I would use one of my several to re-do Arthur's and Susie's funerals.

Arthur's funeral came during a difficult time in my life. The Bishop of my parents ward at that time stopped by our home with the Missionaries. I had flown in from Utah, and arrived at my parents home shortly after the Bishop and Missionaries. A few months prior to my dad's funeral there had been a family feud, and I wasn't and hadn't spoken to most of my family. Many of them didn't know that I had moved to Utah and they most certainly didn't know that I was expecting my first child.

All were excited to see me and willing to let bygones be bygones. I on the other hand refused to let things go. As my family members approached me with their hand extended toward my stomach I would quickly divert their hands away from my basketball shaped stomach. I would not allow the usual playful belly rub, touch, and nobody was talking to the baby that was still leasing space in my stomach. I didn't want anyone that I didn't like at the time (which was probably 90% of the people in the house at that time) to say or do anything pertaining to me and my unborn child.

Most people would have stopped right there, not me. I had to express right there in front of the Bishop, Missionaries and my Mom, my dislike for whom ever I didn't like at that time. Talk about putting family business in the streets, it was out there. It was horrible! My mind was telling my mouth to stop, shut-up! Not only was my mouth not listening to my mind it went into cruise control! I couldn't stop, if eye contact was made, and we were at odds, it was on! There...business out there. My mom kept pleading with me to stop, and I really wanted to, I just couldn't. My mouth kept going.

Our Bishop and family friend was mortified! There was a look of fear on his face that I will never forget. Not fear for himself, fear for me, and how he was going to explain to my husband how and why I was beat to death. He tried to say something, I believe I told him that the only thing he could do was start blessing folks with his consecrated oil and if he wasn't going to do that then he needed to save his words. My mouth still wouldn't stop moving. I'm sure he wondered who I was and where Sista Beehive went, I wish I knew the answer to that unasked question myself.

"Where is Sista Beehive? I don't know, I don't know. Where is Sista Beehive? I don't know,"!
Mouth kept moving...The Missionaries, just kept staring at me. They didn't even know me. I know they thought I had lost my mind and I had lost it! I know that I should have cared but I didn't. By the time my mouth stopped, there were only five people in the room. Your guess is correct. One Bishop, two Missionaries, one Mother, and me. There wasn't even a trace of the Holy Ghost, shameful, just shameful! We all sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity!...Finally the Bishop said, "Well, it sounds to me like this home could use a prayer". Needless to say, not one family member spoke to me during the rest of my stay in Fresno (which was a whole two days), except my Mom. I'd love a do over please!

At Susie's funeral I was a totally different person (she passed away 4 years later). I was more helpful and I wasn't pregnant. (I would like to blame the outburst at Arthur's funeral on my impending situation... I said I'd like to say that, but I know better than that. I was bitter about more then a few things). At Susie's funeral, my guilt comes from not dressing her, which I'm sure she would have forgiven me. All I needed to do was take care of other responsibilities, her hair and make-up. Susie was always put together! She always looked sharp! If she didn't do her hair no one ever knew it 'cause always she had the finest wigs. She wouldn't go anywhere without having her nails and hair did. I couldn't even bring myself to do her hair and/or makeup. The person who did do my mom's hair and makeup (a family member), fixed Susie up the way she saw Susie through her eyes. Pink lip-stick, bright red finger nails, an red-auburn wig, shoulder length, and way too much makeup. I know that I'm in trouble the next time I see Susie!

The woman who fixed Susie's hair is Pentecostal (not that being Pentecostal is a bad thing), and they don't really do flashy. They don't really wear makeup, and if makeup is warn you can't tell it just by looking at them. I'm sure that to my Pentecostal family members we (everyone not Pentecostal) wear way too much makeup and probably do look over made. Anyway, I'd really like a do over for that one!!

I probably still wouldn't do it, but I would hire someone who could do an amazing job! I would also get her a different wig, one that's more brown than red, and a little shorter. Yes, I'd like a do over for 600, Alex.

Side note: Place in my will: Do not let a Pentecostal woman/man do my hair/makeup when I die. Unless they have already been pre~approved or they are currently (at the time) back sliding.

I don't want ya'll to think it's all about guilt and do overs. I do laugh when I think of those moments. I'm sure that's the gift that was left to me, because only God knows the sorrow I felt having lost them. Now instead of crying when I think of losing them, I can't help but laugh, I'm grateful for having their influence of love and laughter in my life. I'm happy that I have better relationships with those family members that I embarrassed, and that today we are able to laugh about my "uncontrollable mouth".

I know that there are several people who have anxiety when it comes to participating in family events especially during this time of year. Hopefully as you read my story and the story of some of our brothas and sistas comments you will be able to create a buffer for yourself and your immediate family. One of Susie's favorite songs was "Joy Comes In The Morning"! I do look forward to the morning that my family will be reunited! May joy and love for family help you usher in this holiday season.

Brothas and Sistas, tell us what you'd like a do over in and why?

Sista Beehive

Read More

It's Not My Turn To Pray

While there are some people who fail to recognize the Lord's hand in our lives, other people seem to see his hand in everything that they do. I'm not talking about those people that stand up monthly and bear their testimony. You know the testimonies that make everyone feel uncomfortable, even the children; I'm talking about those people who have the faith of Brotha Job.

As I survey the lives of my families last four generations, as well as the families of my peers, it seems to me that the younger generations lack gratitude. While there are several reasons for the lack of gratitude in our lives and the lives of our youth, I attribute the main reason for lack of gratitude being we (parents) lack the ability to communicate to our children what we are grateful for and in turn what they are grateful for. Yes brothas and sistas, the nature of this story has taken a slight turn, just bare with me as I relay this short story that will tie into teaching gratitude.

Sometimes my parents had to flip the script in order for me to learn the lessons they tried to teach me. I think last night I would have received an A+ in "T Family Teachings 101".

Story: Last night I called my children down for family prayer. My two youngest girls ages 12 and 10 were being rambunctious, playful, but rambunctious with one another. Even though they both started off playful and teasing I knew they were a giggle away from a full on war. In trying to calm the two of them down I asked one of my daughters to lead us in family prayer. She groaned and said that she had said the prayer the night before and that it was someone else’s turn to say prayer.

Some parents would have apologized and differed the responsibility to say family prayer to a younger sibling.

Me: So you only expect the Lord to bless you a little?

Her: No, I just don't think I should have to say all the prayers in this house.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry, you must be the one that keeps telling Heavenly Father that he's blessed you way too much and it's time for him to pass those blessings on to someone else. I understand you have expressed your gratitude for the family this week, so if we need you to pray for the family, we have to catch you in the morning or in the mid-day.

Her: Mom, your being dramatic... (smile). Yes, I want blessings.

Me: (Am I seeing a smile)? Oh, well is there something your trying to take care of? Are you not worthy to pray? Are you working on your issue? Or you just don't have anything to say to Heavenly Father? Are you and Heavenly Father in a fight?

Her: (Her and the rest of the family, full out laughter)... O.K. I'll say prayer.

I would just like to report that she said a full, healthy prayer. It was thoughtful and she expressed gratitude for our family and the blessings in our lives.

Back on track: If we are noticing a lack of gratitude in our lives and the lives of our children we need to focus on the basics. When was the last time you took public transportation? When was the last time (if ever) you went and ate at a homeless shelter, without doing service there? Just going there and exposing yourself and your children to those less fortunate, placing yourself on their level. When was the last time you said "No" to your child? Just "No", I'm not spending that kind of money or we simply can't afford that.

Being a parent I understand how difficult it is to say "No" to your child especially when so many other parents are saying yes. It's not our responsibility to provide our children with all the latest fashions and/or gadgets. We have become an entitled generation; it is this attitude that we are passing on to our children. Many of us want to have the same quality of life as we start our adult lives, that we had living with our parents. It's natural for parents to have a desire to help their children achieve success, however we might be keeping our children from learning the lesson of gratitude. Where entitlement exists, there is no room for gratitude. Where entitlement is, resentment is usually around the corner.

I know that I am one of the most blessed children of our Heavenly Father. As I look at my life and my family (even extended), I know that Heavenly Father has had a watchful eye on me and has placed Angels in my path. I'm especially grateful for parents that knew how to simply say "no", without giving me an excuse. I'm grateful for parents that taught me the value of life. I'm most grateful for the people in my life and their willingness to patiently teach me.

Sista Beehive
 

Read More

My First Communion

One of the things that I am most grateful to my parents for is exposing me to many different religions and faiths. As a youngster, I took seriously the call for every member to be a missionary. I loved inviting my friends to church with me. Some of the friends that I invited to church didn’t regularly attend any church, but some of them did. One thing about LDS Primary is that it is a lot of fun, and some of my friends often wanted to forgo their church meetings and attend church with me for that reason. This didn’t often go over well with their parents, so my parents often suggested that each time they sent their child to church with us, my parents would send me to church with them the following Sunday. Or my friend and I would attend church at the LDS Church and also at the church my friend attended in the same Sunday, if time permitted. The latter often led to a really long Sunday, but I learned so much from it.

When I was turning 8 years old and was preparing to be baptized, I wanted one of my best friends to attend my baptism. She was also turning 8 and preparing for her First Communion in the Catholic Church. Our parents decided that she would attend church with me some Sundays - this way she could accompany me to Primary and learn about baptism and why I was doing it. In turn, I would attend the Catholic Church with her on some Sundays and also her religious classes so I could learn what communion was and why she was doing it. We had so much fun learning about each other's religions and even at the age of 7 we were able to recognize so many of the similarities in our faiths.

She was shopping for a beautiful white dress for her occasion, and my Mother was making me a beautiful one for mine. On her big day I felt so special to be included. I watched as she and all the other children, the boys in their suits and the girls in their white dresses and veils, walked down the aisle holding candles. I watched as she partook of the Sacrament for the very first time in her life, and I understood what she was doing and why it meant so much to her and her family. I had taken the Sacrament many times, but watching her do so and seeing all the preparation she had done to be able to partake of it helped to remind me of how important the Sacrament is. On the day of my baptism she attended and she understood what I was doing and why it meant so much to me and my family. The Sunday following my baptism, I tried very hard to think about the sacrifice Jesus Christ had made for me while I partook of the Sacrament, I couldn't remember the very first time I had taken the Sacrament, but I wanted to remember this one.

Thanks to each of our parents being tolerant of the other's religion and teaching us the same. There is a picture of she and I at age 8 in our white dresses, standing in the church parking lot with our arms around each other, the temple is behind us, I love that picture, we look so happy. Today my friend is still Catholic and I am still a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. What I learn from my many religious experiences is that it isn’t always about conversion, sometimes it’s simply about trying to make each interaction with a person of another faith a positive one.

Do you often attend church services of faiths other than yours, why or why not? Do your children invite friends to church with them? Do your children attend church with their friends? Tell us about an experience you have had inviting a person of a different faith to church with you. Tell us of an experience you have had attending a church of a faith other than your own.

Sista Laurel

Read More

Warm Fuzzies vs. Cold Pricklies

When my husband and I were living in the ward he attended as a child, he received a calling to teach Sunday school for the youth ages 12 and 13, a class that happened to be dominated by rowdy boys. After the Sacrament meeting in which his calling had been announced a Sister in the ward came up to me and told me that when she heard what my husband’s calling was she was overjoyed and knew that God was a just God. She had been a Primary President while he was a child, although he seemed to have turned out quite nicely, in his Primary of around 30 boys he had been an awful little instigator who had sometimes left her and his other teachers in tears. I may have imagined it, but I think I saw a slight smirk on her face as she asked me to wish him good luck.

Often when you find yourself in or teaching a Sunday school or Primary class dominated by boys, it can be a nightmare, but every once in a while you learn something you never would have expected. In class we were discussing service and the story which President Monson relayed during Conference of the Primary who had sent him a jar of warm fuzzies, with each warm fuzzy representing an act of service that a child had done for someone else. Of course the boys being boys had no interest in anything warm or fuzzy and one boy said what if instead of warm fuzzies he got a jar of cold pricklies. Other than the desire to send President Monson a jar of cold pricklies, I actually found the remark to be quite clever and began to think about what a cold prickly might look like. I did what every person with a church inspired question does, I searched…Google. To my surprise when I typed in warm fuzzies, cold pricklies also came up. I don’t know if the boy had heard this before and was referring to it, but his smart aleck response led me to this great story.

"Once upon a time, there was a tiny village nestled between two mountains. Each person in the village was very happy because he was given a bag of Warm Fuzzies at birth. You could reach into your bag and pull out a Warm Fuzzy whenever you wanted, and everybody wanted to all the time. Warm Fuzzies were given to other people on the street, at home, everywhere. Warm Fuzzies made you feel just like they sound - warm, happy and content. Everyone in the village was happy, everyone but the bad witch. Now we all know that bad witches are growly. They like us to be unhappy, sad. The bad witch in this village was no exception. She tried and tried to make the people stop giving away Warm Fuzzies. One day she whispered in the ear of little Johnny Brown, "If you keep giving away all of your Warm Fuzzies you won't have any left for yourself." Johnny didn't listen at first, because everyone always had lots of Warm Fuzzies. The more you gave away, the more you got.

Then the witch said to Johnny, "If you give COLD PRICKLIES you will be able to keep all of your Warm Fuzzies." Well, Johnny got to thinking about this, and noticed that his mother was always giving away Warm Fuzzies. So were his father and his sister. Soon he thought they would have no more for him. So Johnny started saving his Warm Fuzzies and started giving COLD PRICKLIES. Soon the whole village was giving COLD PRICKLIES. Everyone was gloomy and sad and very grouchy. The village was no longer happy, and there wasn't a Warm Fuzzy to be found!

This had been going on for years and years, and the wicked witch was very happy. One day an old man came to visit the village. When he spoke to anyone they frowned at him and turned their backs, often walked away. The old man continued to be friendly, polite, pleasant, and one day a very young boy smiled back at the old man. It made him feel good - so good that he patted his dog, and the dog didn't bite him! This was the first Warm Fuzzy given in some time, and the little boy dug into his bag of Warm Fuzzies, as they were much nicer than the COLD PRICKLIES, and he started giving them away. The townspeople grumbled and growled for a while, but soon they felt like giving Warm Fuzzies. One by one people went home to find their Warm Fuzzies and soon everyone was again giving Warm Fuzzies. The bad witch was so upset and disgusted that she left the village and took her COLD PRICKLIES. After all, they didn't stand a chance against Warm Fuzzies.
To this day that village is happy and content. Maybe, just maybe, if we give enough Warm Fuzzies our world can be as happy and pleasant as that village."

Have you ever learned something great from the mouth of babes?

Sista Laurel

Read More

Utah Govenor Speaks Ebonics

Before we get started, let me just say if you know Governor Gray Herbert, you don't have to call him to check the validity of this story. Just trust me on this one…

I belong to a group that gets to have an audience with the Governor here in Utah to discuss some of Utah's many achievements, as well as a few of our issues. Let me give a shout out to our Governor right now.

**Real Talk: I love Governor Herbert. Yes, he is all that and a bag of chips! If I had a **"Ghetto Pass” I’d give it to him. However, I don't have one to give away so I won't. Which is probably better for our Governor, because he’d probably take it literally instead of figuratively. Then we'd all be in trouble, when we turned on the TV and seen our Governor getting the shake down in Compton. While at the same time trying to explain to my cousin Lil Snappy that he's alright because someone gave him a "Ghetto Pass". Messing around with ya’ll I’ve gotten side tracked. Ya'll know that I can't stay focused for long, and it don't take much to distract me.

Anyways, one of the presenters is more than a little mischievous. She is a doctor, and she can communicate in several languages other than, English. However, English and Ebonics are the only two languages I speak fluently. Having said that let me tell you about “The Doc”.

Doc was the first presenter. Her presentation was on health care issues in Utah. Doc caught us all off guard, by first announcing that she was going to walk around as she presented (not typically done at these types of gatherings).

While speaking to Governor Herbert, my wonderful friend went from being a graceful refined doctor to an around the way girl from the hood. I didn't know Doc had it in her (well, actually I did). I just didn't think she would break it down like that for the Governor.

Why did the Doc say to the Governor that something or someone was "Hot as Fish Grease"? Why? I don't have the answer either!

What did our Governor do you ask? He just nodded and jokingly said "fish grease", like he understood - you know? Like he spoke the language!

Was my friend and sista done? Oh Heaven No! As she continued to walk she said, “Gov, I got a little somethin', somethin' for ya". Yes, she did! She said "a little somethin' somethin' for ya"! Wow, I was so confused. Usually some of ya'll (you know who you are) be acting like you don't understand. You be asking questions like, "What? Um excuse me? Can you repeat that?" Not our Governor, he said "you got a little somethin' somethin' for me?" with his hand extended as he took the gift that Doc had for him. Doc gave the Governor a pedometer so that he could track the number of steps he took daily.

It’s probably not shocking for some of you, but for me it was very fascinating to watch. Stop playing, ya'll know I'm Mormon, and you know I live in Utah! It's been a **minute since I've been given the opportunity to just break it down the way I wanted to. And I most certainly haven't had the opportunity to break it down in mixed company (don't act shocked and you know what I’m talking ‘bout)! You know the more comfortable you get with a person the more comfortable your language is. **Fo’sho

Yes, I think Utah's Governor is great! Yes, Utah's Governor speaks several languages (well, I'm not really sure if that's a true statement). Fo'sho Utah's Governor speaks Ebonics, no translator needed!!

Brothas and Sistas the moral to this story isn’t so much that Utah has the most Fab Governor (even though we do). Nor is it that Utah has the most diverse Doctors in the United States (again a true statement)! The moral to this story is serving a mission for the church turns Boys into Men, and Girls into Women. Missions create opportunities for people to step outside of their comfort zones, and really receive the gift of speaking in tongues. I’m sure this (speaking Ebonics) is just one of the many talents Governor Herbert learned while serving a mission in the Eastern Atlantic States. However, this is one of the few unique qualities that our Governor possesses. Do you know your political leaders? Do they speak a language that you understand, I mean really understand or do you need a translator? Share your brush with the political high life in your area.


Real talk = all barriers aside, just a conversation between you and another person.

Ghetto Pass = a pass that allows you free access to enter the ghetto, much like a key to the city.

Fo’sho = For Sure, alright, okay

Minute = more than a minute, when someone says a minute it could mean a few extra minutes, hour or more, or even a few days - maybe even a year. It just depends on who it’s coming from.

Sista Beehive

Read More

I Can't I'm Mormon

One of the common things I’m asked about being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is, do I find it difficult to be a member of such a strict religion. People often say to me, there are a lot of nice things about your church, but I don’t think I could give up all the fun stuff. I think that I have a lot of fun, so I always ask, what is that you think Mormons can’t do?

Sex, Sex, Sex! This is usually number one on the list. Without going into too much detail, I assure them that I have A LOT of sex. One of the Mormon stereotypes is that we all have tons of kids. Well, I don’t want to give the birds and the bees talk right now, but how can we be baby makers and sex deprived at the same time? I can’t have non-marital sexual relations. Funny thing is most religions teach this. I usually ask what religion they are and most of the time they agree that their religion teaches this too, “but it’s not like the pastor will do something to me they’ll say”. I’m not sure what non-Mormons envision, but there are no bedroom police in the LDS Church. Among the many church callings you can receive, that does not happen to be one of them. No one runs into the bedroom, or knocks on your fogged-up car window and says GOTCHA! No one stands at the pulpit and says would the congregation please shun Brother or Sister so and so, they were caught engaging in yada yada. Relax, there are no scarlet A’s to be worn.

I can’t drink alcohol; any of you that think Mormons should drink have never been to a function with my Mother-in-law’s side of the family. Attend just one and you’ll be asking us all to blow and pee on a stick! The good part is we’ll all probably come up clean, bad news, that doesn’t explain what we’re high on. (I could also refer to some Utah drivers not needing alcohol to swerve all over the road, but I won't). I can’t smoke; personally I wouldn’t smoke even if I were not a member of the LDS faith.

I can’t: caffinate, tattoo, look at porn, watch R-rated movies, wear fashionable clothing, pierce, swear, gamble, lie, cheat, steal, the list goes on and on. It’s not actually that Mormons can’t do these things, because I myself am not perfect, and believe me there are Mormons who do all of the above, but it’s a matter of choice. There are certain things that faithful members of the LDS church choose not to do and there are many, many people of different faiths and beliefs who also choose to refrain from some of these things. So like Sista Beehive said the other day, it shouldn’t be I can’t I’m Mormon, it should be I won’t I’m Mormon.

Ok, so I won’t be the chick who got drunk last night, gambled away all my money, woke up in some random dudes apartment, can’t find my tube top or my belly button ring, for some odd reason has random dude’s name tattooed on my arm, has an undetected STD, dude where’s my car, with a #1 hit on Youtube cause random dude taped it all, but know that it was my choice, so don’t you dare blame me for missing out on all that fun on the LDS church.

Sista Laurel

Read More

Will A Man Rob God?

Malachi 3:8
Will a man rob God? Yet ye have robbed me. But ye say, Wherein have we robbed thee? In tithes and offerings.

Will a man rob God? I heard this every Sunday for the first 12 years of my life. I always knew when it was time to dig deep and produce what ever change my mother put in my squishy red plastic wallet, as the deacons passed the offering tray around. I also knew to only put a few coins at a time so that each time the tray came down the aisle I would have something to give. I always felt terrible when I had nothing to give.

Shortly after joining the LDS church my parents decided they would return to our family church (Pentecostal). Although they felt they should return to the pentecostal church, they allowed me to continue to attend the LDS church. Every Sunday my parents would drop me off at the ward building, and they always made sure I had a few dollars for the offering tray - a couple of times I even got twenty dollars! YEP... I said they gave me money for the offering tray.

Remember I was only 12, so I did what most 12 year olds would have done, I pocketed the money. What? I never asked for money for the offering tray, my mother assumed that the LDS church collected offerings and tithing like some of the other churches did. My parents always told me never to assume anything! "When you assume" they'd say. "you make an "a&&" out of "u" and me. I guess that doesn't apply in a situation like this?

In the LDS church, tithing is more of an honor code thing, those who are going to pay it will and those who aren't won't. Nobody is beaten over the head with how much we give or needed to raise for the day. Unlike the church I had grown up in, where if not enough was collected, we kept passing around the tray until the desired amount was reached. At the LDS church, there was no preacher that was going to get up every Sunday and ask the thought provoking question "Will a Man Rob God"? So I justified my actions by conducting my Sunday transactions like a military officer. "Don't ask, don't tell". My parents never asked if I paid offerings. My Bishop never asked me if I would "rob God" so I continued to justify my actions. It was easy and I was rich, until that "Great and Dreadful Day".

Zephaniah 1:14-18
The Great Day Of The Lord:
14: The great day of the Lord is near, it is near, and hasteth greatly, even the voice of the day of the Lord: the mighty man shall cry there bitterly.
15: That day is a day of wrath, a day of trouble and distress, a day of wasteness and desolation, a day of darkness and gloominess, a day of clouds and thick darkness,
16: A day of the trumpet and alarm against the fenced cities, and against the high towers.
17: And I will bring distress upon men, that they shall walk like blind men, because they have sinned against the Lord: and their blood shall be poured out as dust, and their flesh as the dung.

The day started off like any other day. School was great, the walk home was typical. As I approached my house I was excited to see that the missionaries had stopped by. When I walked in the house the energy in our home seemed a little weird. Everyone looked like they were going to cry. I thought that Elder Young (name change) our fav missionary was getting transfered. Elder Young was fun, knew his scriptures and was cute. He was fun to be around because he joked a lot. "What's up, Young"? He didn't really look at me, he just glanced, and shrugged his shoulders. Not the usual response, he didn't even smile, and there were no jokes. When I turned to address his companion Elder Green, I noticed that it wasn't Elder Green at all, it was the Bishop. Hey Bishop! I was excited to see the Bishop, he hadn't ever been to my house before. "Hello", the Bishop seemed happy to see me too. Everyone looked so serious, I didn't really know what to say so like a dummy I asked "what are you doing here?" I don't know why I asked that question, but I wish I hadn't.

"Your mom called me this morning, she wanted to know why I hadn't cashed any of her tithing checks. (Note to self and all others listening, always give the Bishop the tithing checks!).

Personal thoughts: Can a 12 year old have a heart attack? Can Jesus take me now?! Do I have the power to will myself to die or faint? Can I make my head explode? What do I have to do to make my head pop off my neck, right now? How come I don't have a super power?? Dang! Dang! Dang!!!

My mom's voice was cold like steal, and flat, "have you been stealing the Lord's money"? She asked without blinking an eye. Stealing from the Lord? She made me sound like a cold hard criminal. I didn't say that, although I did think it. I just had the blank stare in my eyes that my mother hated, and the more I tried to focus, the dumber I looked. I couldn't speak, the room was quiet and seemed to be closing in on me. Everyone just kept looking at me waiting for a response. The tears came, and the confession followed.

Now, I don't know how the punishments went down at ya'lls house, but at my parents home the calm, cold voice was the worst. There was no yelling, there were no time outs (actually where I come from time outs were for athletes), there was no whippings (although that would have been so much easier for me) My mom looked at the Bishop and wanted to know when I would be confessing my sins before the Lord and the church. The Bishops response was at first slight laughter then realizing that my mother was serious he told her that we didn't do that in our church. I was happy that the LDS church was different. He did explain to her that I did need to repent and he wanted to meet with me on Sunday.

For most parents, the Bishops response would have been satisfying enough. Not for my mama, she had something else in mind for me. When I looked over at my father he just gave me that poor pitiful child look, and looked away. He didn't say anything to me. He didn't have to, I knew he was disappointed. Knowing that I had disappointed my father broke my heart. For the first time in a long time I couldn't wait to be banished to my room. One more little glance at my Dad and Elder Young and I knew I was for sure going to HELL! I only wish it would have been before Sunday which was two whole days away.

My mother woke me up early Sunday morning. I got dressed for church, we got in the car, and my dad drove to my uncle's church, my uncle's pentecostal church! I reminded my mom that I had a meeting with the Bishop at my church. "Not before you confess your sins before the saints at "our" church". Yes, brothas and sistas, I had to confess before my God, my uncle, and all the saint's of Greater Victory Church of God and Christ, that indeed "a man would and had robbed God". As I confessed my sin to the members of the congregation, they looked at me in shock, my cousins laughed, but some of the older members shouted out a few , "Oh bless her Lawds", "Watch her Jesus", I even heard someone say "Keep her Jesus, keep her Lord"! The comment that stood out the most to me was from ** Mother Harris (God rest her soul) "if you will steal from God, you will steal from me" then she clutched her purse like I was going to snatch it and run... Really? You see how people act sometimes? I used to go to Mother Harris' house all the time to help her clean, and she never paid me anything (not that it was an issue at the time). I'd never stolen anything from Mother Harris and I wasn't about to start.

Anyway, after confessing my sins to all the Saint's at Greater Victory Church, talking to the Bishop was a cake walk. I learned my lesson! No, there's no need for any of you to clutch your purses or check for your wallets when I'm around. I do think that we (LDS) should ask more often "Will A Man Rob God"? What? Don't act like ya'll have never kept a little spare change. It's time to confess your embarrassing sins that you can laugh about now. Who called you out and how did you respond?

**Mother of the Church~ The Elderly sister in the church. Sometimes even the pastors wife, or pastors widow. She is highly respected and usually sets the tone where behavior, dress, and standards are a concern. Church Mother usually helps decide what is socially acceptable for the women of the church. As a sign of respect this person is referred to as Mother.

Sista Beehive

Read More