Meeting God
Deconstruction and the Faith to be Found on the Other Side
Over the past several years, I’ve developed what I believe to be a completely reasonable fear:
I’m in public, and I’m awkwardly approached by a TikToker—camera shoved into my face, mic at my lips, barraged by personal questions, as sweat pours from my brow.
If that day ever comes, I’d count my lucky stars to be so awkwardly approached by the “Are you happy?” guy. A boy can dream.
In that “dream version” of an otherwise nightmarish scenario, I’ve got my answers ready:
I am happy.
My brain is a nice place to be.
My happiness doesn’t come from what’s happening around me, but from my own internal dialogue about what’s happening around me.
That happiness is a privilege, one I work hard to maintain.
I’m deeply grateful for every ounce of happiness I experience, and I do what I can to pay that privilege forward.
Growing up inside of an organized religion, you learn there are certain questions you shouldn’t entertain for too long—and some you shouldn’t entertain at all… lest ye be swayed by the perversions of the Devil!
But here’s the thing:
There’s actually no losing when you start to question things.
When you find the answer, you either:
(A) let go of a fallacy that had unnecessary influence over you,
or
(B) end up with your faith strengthened.
There’s no downside. You win both ways.
I began the process of questioning and deconstruction long before I was LDS mission age. Throughout that journey, I made two promises to myself, two rules I would follow no matter what:
I would remain fully open to being wrong— if God asked me to continue where I was, I’d humbly do so.
If the path led me another direction, I’d walk that new path with nothing but love and light in my heart.
Finding your way is a much slower process with those two rules as your compass and filter.
But man—is it worth it.
It’s a much more intentional process.
And, I’ve learned, with patience and intention, there is greater love, greater light and greater peace.
No second guessing if you choose to stay.
No carrying the weight of unresolved tension (or contention) if you choose to go.
I vividly remember the day in my journey where a moment like this arrived for me.
I think many of us have had one.
I thought this would be the day I’d say goodbye to God.
It turned out, this was the day I’d truly meet God.
That day, I found a new (to me), more complete and more abundant God. The God I’d only ever caught tiny glimpses of before, but the same God I had been seeking and reaching desperately for all of my life.
That day, my relationship with God—with the Universe, with Life—was completely reborn. Letting go of all restraint, of all need for permission, of every ounce of ritual and “requirement” and simply turning directly and independently to God, I opened a new and constant dialog of ever flowing, two-way communication that hasn’t faltered once in the years since.
Pure signal. No more static. No more distorting noise. Only divine connection, clarity, love and light.
The “voice”—more a quiet knowing that would settle over me—was as new as it was familiar. It was as if it had always been there, but up until this point, I’d only ever heard it speak over the phone. Now, for the first time, I was hearing it in person.
It was clear in a way that was absolutely undeniable.
Over the next several months, I adjusted to the constant presence of this pure connection to divine guidance and put it to the test.
It would chime in every so often, offering quiet direction when it really mattered. And I’d do my best to trust it, without question.
As I experimented with following the stirrings in my heart without question, I quickly found that without exception, somehow… it was always right.
So, one day, I decided to really put it to the test.
Growing up in the LDS church, I’d been constantly encouraged, and even very literally commanded, to serve a two year mission. But in spite of all that messaging and in spite of the best laid efforts of so many well meaning leaders and family members and neighbors and friends, never once had I felt a strong, internal conviction that this was the path God wanted me to take.
Until one day as I knelt in deep meditation, the voice—unprompted—said to me,
“If you choose to go on a mission, you won’t have anything to worry about. You’ll be there to serve the leaders and the other missionaries.”
Pretty specific, right?
My biggest fears about serving a mission had always been that I would be required to speak or act in ways that were outside the realm of my own beliefs and conscience. . . outside of integrity to my relationship with the God I’d come to intimately know and the voice I’d learned to listen to and follow, no matter what.
As hard as it was, when the voice spoke to me in this way—even though I couldn’t fathom how this promise could possibly be fulfilled— I chose to set my fear and ego aside and to trust it.
As always, I am so glad I did.
Fast forward two and a half years, and I’m now a returned missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The voice was right, everything was fine.
For two years I practiced my second rule every day, and in so doing, I learned to create a nearly constant state of internal light and love, no matter my situation or the environment I was in.
Not only that, but after just a couple of months of missionary service, I spent the rest of my entire two year mission doing work uniquely suited to my skills—work that catered to my unique relationship with the church—no more proselytizing.
I traveled the country giving financial literacy trainings to over 300 local leaders, built systems to help find and train good and honest leadership, equipped branches to provide financial aid to those in need, and helped set up self-sufficiency programs.
I also managed all the mission’s finances and logistics—from travel to housing contracts and more.
Perhaps most importantly, I helped create teaching materials for everything I did and trained other missionaries in these specific skills and processes too—so the work could outlive any of us and ripple forward in meaningful ways for generations.
There was so much to be done. I barely slept.
But I was happy the entire time.
And I never had to do anything that conflicted with me spiritually.
For the last six months, I didn’t even have a companion.
When I did spend time with other missionaries, it was often in deep conversations about their own deconstruction journeys—conversations I was uniquely equipped to support them in.
Just as the voice had promised, my mission was unimaginably perfect—for me.
All of this reminds me of a series of inspiring questions at the beginning of Michael A. Singer’s book The Surrender Experiment:
“What would happen if we respected the flow of Life and used our free will to participate in what’s unfolding, instead of fighting with it?
What would be the quality of the life that unfolds?
Would it just be random events with no order or meaning?
Or would the same perfection of order and meaning that manifests in the rest of the universe manifest in everyday life around us?”
On the mission and over the several months I’ve been home, I’ve learned over and over again that as I fully lean into the flow of Life—the more I surrender and really trust—the more I see that nothing is random at all.
Life, on a scale I’m not yet enlightened enough to fully understand, has a destination in mind.
Like a river, it steadily flows—always following the path of least resistance as it weaves around every barrier we build: our desires, our beliefs, our egos.
What once may have appeared to be detours, were and are, as it turns out, hidden currents pulling me exactly where I need to go.
Interruptions are turning points. Obstacles, invitations to follow a more direct path.
Life always finds a way—sometimes because of us, very often in spite of us.
The more I let go of trying to control the outcome, the more God shows me just how beautifully things were already orchestrated to be.
At first, I wasn’t sure why I was ever going to dedicate two years of my life away to something I didn’t believe.
But I trusted that voice, and I went.
And I lived out two years of miraculous stories I could never have even dreamed possible!
Since arriving home, I’ve found more doors opening to me than ever before, and I’m more prepared to walk through them than I ever would have been otherwise.
Now, when I find myself wanting things to unfold a certain way, I pause and ask,
“Who am I to think that I could take more for myself than Life has plans to give?”
It’s always this or something better—even when I can’t yet see how.
So why worry?
I’ve come to trust Life.
And in some strange and sacred way, I believe this Life I call God has learned it can trust me too.
That kind of relationship—mutual, surrendered, full of reverence—can only lead to happiness.
So, if the “Are you happy?” guy and I ever do cross paths, when he asks me the secret of happiness, I know exactly how I’ll reply.
Surrender.
Thank you all for following along these past couple of years.
Thank you for the heartfelt messages you sent after each update.
Being understood and coming to understand you better through this blog has meant the world to me.
I love you.
I have a pretty neat older brother who teaches me cool things ꩜ ꩜
Proud of you bro bro
Faith that is brave and bold enough to transcend form. So sacred. So pure. So rare. I’m so proud of you and your surrendered heart, my beautiful boy.