November 5, 2015!  That’s the day Mormon god died in my heart.  Today is the 4 year anniversary of his sudden death.

While driving to work exactly 4 years ago, I became aware of a new and highly offensive policy.  The Mormon Church didn’t announce it.  It was unceremoniously leaked.  The Church attempted to silently insert their new protocol into the secret Handbook of Instructions.  It’s reserved as eyes-only for bishops, stake presidents and general authorities.   The new policy barred children of gay parents from baby blessings, baptism, confirmation, the gift of the Holy Ghost, receiving the priesthood and temple attendance.  These severe restrictions could only be lifted when the child met all following conditions:

1. Reached the age of 18.
2. Moved out of the home of the gay parents.
3. Disavowed the lifestyle of the gay parents.

I was immediately struck with anger and disappointment.  This was not the God that I loved and respected.  This was not the Christ I revered.  The new policy was as far away from the gospel of Jesus as one could get.  Yet the modern-day apostles pinned the blame on the Savior.  It still makes me sick to even type this.

HYPOCRITES of the highest order.  Christ was the epitome of standing up for the marginalized, the vulnerable and those on the fringes of society.  Here, the Mormon Church leadership was openly shunning children, the most vulnerable children.  And they had the gall to call it LOVE!  It was HATE!!!

That fateful morning, I was done with the Mormon church.  Over the previous year, I had already been troubled by the historical deceptions that were coming to light.  Somehow I managed to find a way around those problems and to stay in as an active member.  But this was way too much.  To openly disrespect the gospel of Jesus Christ and plainly lead the blindly following sheep into darkness.  Nope, I couldn’t countenance that.

So, I exited the freeway and bee-lined it to the local department store.   For the first time in 44 years, I purchased…boxers.  When I reached the office, I took off the Mormon underwear (garments) and planned to never return to an LDS service.  Pictured above is a pair of my colorful new underwear.  This picture was taken 2 weeks ago.  Out of sight but not out of mind, they have served me well these past 4 years.

That night my wife discovered my body was garment-less and boxer-bearing.  If you are or have been Mormon, you know that it would have caused a huge shock.  So much so, that divorce was mentioned.  Immediately, my garments went back on.  My marriage was more important than my damn underwear.

Until the excommunication, I clothed myself night and day in Mormon mandated skivvies.  Even though I continued to attend church, I was not going to remain silent.  While the policy flagrantly flew in the face of Christ’s teachings, I was determined to embrace His example in ways I had never done before.  He stood up openly to the power structure of His time.  Calling the church leadership out in harsh terms.  From November 5, 2015 until September 12, 2018 (Date of Excommunication), I voted opposed at every ward, stake and general conference.

On April 4 of this year, Mormon god changed his mind about this whole debacle.  At least that’s what the ‘Prophet’ told the world.  Nope.  Sorry buddy.  You aren’t going to sucker me into your made-up delusions again.  You, not God, concocted the original exclusion policy.  You recognized it was big trouble, decided to blame the whole thing on God and put it behind you.  If the meantime, children have died by suicide in the wake of this horrendous policy.  YOUR policy.

Mormon god has died a garment-less death in my heart.  Thank heavens.

Happy/sad Anniversary.