Opening Ourselves to Empathy with LGBTQ+ Members of the Church

I've been holding this experience I had in the temple in my heart until I feel like I have the language to share it the best way I can. Today, I feel like I can make the attempt.

Many of you know that I serve as an ordinance worker in the Boise Idaho temple. When I was set apart, I was promised the veil would be parted to me through my service.

We use this phrase a lot in the church, and it means a lot of different things. What I thought it meant at the time and in that context was experiences with the deceased people we are serving. The way I can most easily relate this thought to someone not familiar with our beliefs is that Mormons believe in angels, and that we can see them. They look like regular people and we interact with them without knowing it. And sometimes they're even our deceased family members. We believe this is fully possible in the temples we attend, and we talk about it as the veil between heaven and Earth being parted. That's why I understood it this way.

In that sense, I've never had this experience. Apart from a really vague sense of joy that someone has finally had their vicarious ordinance work done on their behalf, that's the full extent of what I've had in terms of interactions with the dead. 

Mormons also believe that every person, no matter how terrible they might act, has a divine nature. The scriptures call it the "inward man." And most of us do what we do to access that inner goodness, and see it more clearly in those around us. We also refer to glimpses of this divine nature as parting the veil. How we see someone falls away and we can finally see them as God sees them. In this sense, I rely on this constantly in my service. It's slowly making me a better person.

This happened between me and a temple patron one day, as it sometimes does. But what was different about it was how clearly I saw her, and how much I felt what she was feeling.

I received clearly into my and heart her feelings. Through the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, I was given to know that she was struggling—and I do mean struggling—with same-sex attraction. Whether as a lesbian or bisexual person, I couldn't say. But please know that why I'm using SSA as a descriptor. 

Imagine if perfect empathy with another person was somehow possible. As I performed the ordinances on her behalf, that was what I had with her.

I felt a gut wrenching loneliness I don't know how to put into words. However lonely you have ever felt, magnify it. The only anguish I have to compare it to from my own life was the day I admitted to myself that I was raped.

I felt the anguish of her body as it ached for connection to the women around her, both sexual and platonic. The shame and fear that also accompanied that feeling. The fear of losing control of herself, of acting on what she was feeling, because it was completely overwhelming all of her senses. And I felt it. I felt it all, and was completely overwhelmed by it.

She wanted someone, anyone, to see her, know her, and love her. She wanted someone to reach out to her and tell her it was going to be okay.

I wanted so much to speak to her. But I couldn't find the words in that moment. I'd never considered so literally how my LGBTQ+ brothers, sisters, and siblings feel. And even if I had asked, they couldn't give me this experience. God had to do that.    

All I could do was put my hand on her shoulder. I never do that. At one point, I looked her in the eye. I don't know how she understood that, but I hope she saw in me someone who sees her and loves her as she is.

She left and the veil closed on those feelings. I prayed for that woman like I've never prayed for anyone else in the temple, not even myself. If it were up to me, I would have rained down every imaginable happiness upon her without any thought of restraint.

If you could feel, for only a moment, how LGBTQ+ people feel, you would know it isn't an act. It isn't a deception. It isn't a ploy for power or political control. It isn't a desire to be evil.

I don't know where sexuality and gender dysphoria fits into God's plan for his children. I just don't know, and I try very hard not to pretend to certainty I don't have about someone else's life. But I will tell you what I do know.

My LGBTQ+ friends and family members are precious to me. I love them unconditionally. I want to see them happy. Whatever that looks like to them is how I can and should support them. They deserve that from me. 

And I know, because I've felt it fill my entire soul, that God loves ALL of his children. He loves them without failure or reservation. He loves them where they are, including through their experiences with their sexual orientation and gender identity. God doesn't love his LGBTQ+ children any less. In fact, the only thing more overwhelming than this woman's attraction that I have ever felt was his unconditional love for her. It is the holiest experience I've ever had in the temple.

So I'm leaving you with a question to think about, study, ponder, and pray about. And I hope you will. Because it has changed my life forever. 

If you could see LGBTQ+ people how God sees them, how would it change you? How would it change the way you think and speak about them?