So, by the time I was working after graduating high school and into my early college years I was not active at all, and never paid a dime in tithing.

Then when I came "back to the fold" I wasn't working because I moved back home to get ready for the mission. Bishop didn't require me to pay any back-tithing, he was working too hard to convince me to go on a mission by telling me he'd received a revelation that I would be one of the 2 witnesses martyred in Israel.

Then when I got back from my mission I was so disappointed with church leadership I didn't feel comfortable giving them a dime, even though I still for a time believed in the restoration.

Then I was out. So I never paid tithing.

I was curious if that's why I never really felt anger toward the church, or experienced any lingering PTSD-like symptoms or anything like what a lot of folks on this forum have dealt with and are dealing with still.

Deep down, is it the amount of money forked over to the church over the years that drives a lot of anger?

Or, does one have a generally easier time of exiting the church if they never made a financial investment in it?

That is definitely part of it. (Not the worst part for me, but it

is a big part. Polygamy and racism get my blood boiling) I

haven't even added the money up yet, plus missions.

But when I first heard about the mall, I was shocked. They say

it didn't come from tithing, but everything the church has

started with members donating. Now I hear they are building

another mall. They obviously don't need my money. I have a

mortgage and they build a mall?

I've thought about how hard I have scraped to buy art supplies and the tools that I need to make it presentable. I could have bought a lot of good quality stuff with that money.

"he was working too hard to convince me to go on a mission by telling me he'd received a revelation that I would be one of the 2 witnesses martyred in Israel."

Fuck! I would have turned the other way and ran! Was he disappointed when you cam home alive? Israel doesn't allow missionaries, so obviously, you didn't go there. The Boner.

Here's an excerpt from my exmo bio for some background on that:

___

"I moved back home so I could cram for the mission. I started going to my home ward where everybody was just oh-so happy that lil’ kolobian had found his way back to the 90 & 9 and they slaughtered some fatted calves for supper. This was a dangerous time for me and my ego. I really underestimated how far these people would go to make sure I served a mission.

The patriarchal blessing: it was time to do what every 14-year old girl in the church does, namely, find out what tribe I’m from and which gifts of the spirit I was “blessed with.” It was a snowy day and it was a half-hour drive from my town to the patriarch’s house. He had just been called and I was to be his second blessing ever. This was testimony-affirming for me. He’d had a chance to get over his nervousness with some other guinea pig, and he wasn’t so used to giving these things that he’d mix in somebody else’s stuff with mine.

The long and short of it is this: it talked about everything leading up to my mission. It said I would be called to a “special part of the world.” That’s it. It didn’t talk about spiritual gifts. And it never, ever, not even once, mentioned being married, being married in the temple, or having children. It was as if the mission would be the last thing I would ever do. Basically, I thought I was going to die on my mission. Or rather, I was blessed to be a martyr. Or so I saw it.

My mom and I talked about it at length. “Yes, honey.” She said. “Everybody’s patriarchal blessing talks about marriage.” Well then why doesn’t mine? “I don’t know, honey.” She replied. “we just have to have faith that the lord knows what he’s doing.”

That was my mom. If she were Abraham that angel wouldn’t have had time to stop her from sacrificing Isaac. “What? I didn’t have to kill him? But you said… Oh. Well, why didn’t you come sooner?”

Let me also say at this point that I was obsessed with Israel. I had been taking Hebrew in college. I had studied all things near-east. I was much more into the bible than any kolobian scriptures. It’s important that you should know this before I tell you this next part. The next part is the nail in the sure place.

The bishop’s interview: I was called into the bishop’s office (who had been my old scoutmaster) and told to sit down. He wanted to share something with me. Something sacred. Something I couldn’t tell anybody. He wanted to share a revelation he’d received concerning me. OoOoOoO. Concerning me?! What an ego-boost.

He asked me what I knew about Jerusalem. Me?! What do you want to know? I started telling him about the things I’d been studying, the Hebrew, basically all the stuff I’d been telling everybody else in the ward since I’d come home that he was pretending not to know about. Hmmm.

Then he tells me, with a straight face, in the bishop’s office: “Kolobian, it has been revealed to me that you will be one of the two witnesses who will be martyred in the streets of the holy city as foretold by John the Beloved.”

…….

…………..

………………….

…………………………….

…………………………………………. Really?

For a 21-year old this was pretty heavy. But I was kolobian. I’d had visions before. I was told my whole life that I would do great things. And oh, yeah… my patriarchal blessing already told me I’d die on my mission, right? I just didn’t know that my mission would be something I could read about in the bible!

The mission call: So.. it was time. I’d done the interviews, taken the physicals, gone to the dentist, filled out and submitted the paperwork. It was only a matter of time until one of the apostles (hopefully Eyring) would show up at my house and ask me to accompany him back to Salta-lay-ka-sitty.

Eyring didn’t come. An envelope did. My mother was beaming. Wow, it felt pretty thick. I couldn’t open it at home. It had to be a grand gesture. We jumped in the car and drove an hour and a half to the Mesa temple so we could open it outside the house of the lord.

Now remember, my older brother wanted to go to Japan and he went to Japan. My other brother wanted to go to D.C. and he went to D.C. I wanted to go to Israel and by god, I was going to Israel.

“Elder Kolobian, you have been called to the California – San Diego mission. You will be speaking Spanish.”

……

…………

………………

……………………….

……………………………. There must be some mistake. I checked the name again, and the address. It was right. Hmmm.. bishop, you got some ‘splaining to do….

My bishop didn’t miss a beat. “It sounds like a preparatory mission to me. You’ll probably be there for a few months, maybe a year, just to get ready for your true calling.”

Oh, a preparatory mission. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Way to stroke my ego bishop!



…The mission: I’ll be brief. It didn’t take long before I realized that I’d been had. I didn’t leave the MTC thinking I was on a temporary mission and that I’d soon be going to Jerusalem to fulfill prophecy. I’m only gullible to a point. Once I got to the MTC and met all those 19 year olds from Utah I figured things out pretty quick. Whether you’re a martyr, a light to your brothers and sisters, or guaranteed a brand new pickup truck upon your honorable return, you tell these kids what they want to hear in order to get them to the MTC. The peer pressure will take over from there.

Let me interject something here so that you understand me a little better. Even though the patriarch and the bishop were completely full of shit and I know that now, you have to remember that I believed that I was going to be martyred. It’s dumb, but I believed it. More importantly, however, is that my mom believed it. She believed it and she sent me anyway. It’s crazy to think about now, but my mom just ever so nonchalantly sent me off to my inevitable death. That is what kolobianism can do to a person. Abraham’s got nothing on my mom. She is, I believe, past the point of no return."

Wow! You must have been terrified for a period while this fuckery played out. And your Mom...I'm very sorry...

What you experienced from the bishop was extreme psychological abuse. The patriarch probably thought that he had already made the marriage blessing...I'm having a hard time even processing this.

I'm glad you figured the cult out, very best wishes and thanks for sharing your story. I'm still blown away by this!

I gave about $50k to the "church", but the wasted time is far worse, the damage to self-esteem, always wondering if you were good enough, wondering why God wasn't answering your prayers, etc... I attempted suicide while at BYU and left a suicide note about how I knew I was going to the telestial kingdom, etc... I REALLY believed all the BS. I was as Peter Priesthood as they come, but I always "knew" the lack of answers was my fault. It would have been far easier to leave if I had never really taken it seriously.

There is no gratitude from the church. If you go on a mission, they act like they are doing you a big favor. If you do 90% of the work, they complain about the 20% you are not doing. Yes, that adds up to 110%, because if you do 100%, they say you can always do more.

Never is their gratitude and recognition that tithing is a donation and typically hurts to pay it. Never do they recognize that church members are volunteers giving precious time to keep their organization running. All they do is tell you how much more you owe and how ungrateful you are towards God, which means the church.

I never gave them a cent either. When I started my first summer job at age 18 it was the first real money I'd ever earned and the thought of paying any to the church never crossed my mind and dad never told me I had to. When we got married, we had bought a farm and so had a mortgage to pay for and then after kids arrived, every cent I earned went to keep us afloat and there were some very tough times and that 10% would have meant days with no food or no fertilizer for the crops. My family and my business are #1 & #2. Friends are #3. There is no #4 in my life.

RB



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/25/2016 01:37PM by Lethbridge Reprobate.

kolobian Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> ... he was working too hard to convince
> me to go on a mission by telling me he'd received
> a revelation that I would be one of the 2
> witnesses martyred in Israel.
>

If that's truly a revelation, then how is going on a mission going to change the outcome? You could just ask to be dead-dunked, and go spend what precious time you have left having fun.

As a kid I think I paid a few cents here and there.

As a young adult in college, I worked my way through school in low paying jobs and I couldn't afford to fork over much of it. No one said anything and I let the issue go.

By the time of graduation, I'd figured out I did not have to be Mormon. Silly me, until then I thought I had no choice. After I left, I was glad I hadn't paid and I still feel glad of it nearly 50 years later.

I can understand anyone feeling angry from having a cult bilk them out of their hard earned money. When I say *hard earned,* I mean it and feel it deeply. I've worked very hard for what I have and I know most everyone else also works hard. We all deserve to spend our money as we see fit.

Shame on the Mormon church for taking money they haven't earned.

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/25/2016 09:39PM by want2bx.

I never paid tithing as an adult, only as a child and teenager at my parents requests. Looking back now I remember never having new clothes, no lunch money, and grew up in poverty. That amount my parents paid in tithing would have really helped out! I'm saddened that my parents put this religion before their children's well being.

I paid tithing as a teenager and in college, but I never had a real job. I started coming out shortly after grad school, and then quit the church soon afterwards.

For about 6 months of FT work, I saved my tithing with the intention of paying it. I even got a tithing slip one day. I sat down and figured out how much I "owed", and realized it was my entire savings. I was already having doubts, so I decided just to let it ride for a while until I had "saved up more". Really I think I just wasn't willing to part with the money to a church I was uneasy about.

When I finally decided to hell with the church, I threw away the envelop and used the money to pay bills. Then I started saving that 10% in retirement. I would have nothing in my 401k if I'd paid tithing all these years.

My wife and I look at it a bit differently, and we are probably well over 150k in tithing over the last 20 + years. We can spend time stewing over it or just look at as a time we learned to sacrifice. Previous chapter of our lives. We're never getting it back and we were fortunate to never have been in a financially difficult situation. Do I wish I could get the money back. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it back, but it is what is as they say. Hard to be angry over a conscious we made. We didn't have to. The anger I feel now is being surrounded by a bunch of self righteous zombies that never shut up about the wonderful TSCC and their closed minds and the fact I was part of it.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/25/2016 06:28PM by shodanrob.

I visited a different ward for a baby blessing, and one man gave his testimony of tithing. He said when his family was young, he was almost never home. Didn't get to see his kids grow up. He started several businesses to make enough to barely get by with his large family. Now that his family is grown and gone, he has lots of income from his businesses! All because he paid tithing all those years. Not because he worked his butt off. Now he is reaping the blessings of being a full tithe payer.

After all I lost by being Mormon--and the list was long, lost revenue was the last thing on my mind. I've never given tithing any thought. What is hard to get over is the poisonous hatred toward the young gay kids, and turning everyone else into Stepford People--empty obedient shells that look perfect on the outside.