Confessions of a Former GA
When I was growing up my parents were not involved in religion. Dad had been reared / abused by his mother, a Pentecostal Christian. My Mom was a Free Will Baptist. They did not take me to church but always made sure my sister and I did go. In the fifties we were attending a non-denominational church. Somewhere along in there my sister got involved with CJCLDS and joined. Around the age of 12 during a vacation Bible school, I became convicted (as they say) and was baptized by the protestant minister. It was a wonderful experience.
When I was around thirteen we moved and I had to find a new church. The closest was a Church of the Nazarene. They were all big on bearing witness and that idea scared me s…less so I thought let’s look again. My sister, by now a TBM, suggested I go to church with her. Nothing was too scary except I didn’t get the crying on Fast Sundays. In January of 1956 we toured the Los Angeles Temple prior to the dedication. There was a table loaded with tracts. I asked the dear lady which one would give me the best understanding of what CJCLDS was all about. I was given a copy of “Joseph Smith Tells His Own Story.” A few weeks later I read the pamphlet over and over again. Being a born again Christian already, I took the passage from James very seriously and began a series of late night prayer sessions, kneeling by the side of my bed. I asked simply if what the tract said was true and if Joseph Smith was really a prophet. I couldn’t get an answer and I fell into the double bind and tried harder. Eventually I either got really tired or received an answer to my prayer. The following Ward Teaching visit, the Bishop was our Ward Teacher, I asked how I became a member. The Bishop was delighted and since Mom was setting in the dining room, he asked her what she thought and could I have her permission. She wisely asked me why and I bore my testimony. She consented and I was baptized the following Saturday, April 13th if memory serves, evening. Sunday morning before my confirmation during F&T, in early morning Priesthood Meeting which was the first time I had ever been in one, the Bishop presented me to be ordained to the office of Deacon. First I had heard of it. He called me up to the podium, put his arm around my shoulders and gave a glowing report of my worthiness. I guess since I was fresh out of the water, it had to be true.
Within weeks my best buddy, moved on to the Teacher’s quorum and I was called as President of the Deacons. Our advisor was a direct descendent of Samuel Smith. His family was heavy into church history and his father let me look at original copies of the first printings of the standard works. I became the advisors buddy, we even double dated, and on Sundays while his wife cooked dinner he and I would read from the Documented History and discuss doctrine. We would go on drives in the evening and talk about church, family and history. We often went on drives in the evening and talked for hours. His wife was pregnant and I think just wanted him out of the house. My home life was less than sterling and I think that for me he was a substitute father figure. I think that he thought of me as a younger brother. I know his older brother questioned why he was so interested in me. I had no idea at the time that one day I would come out and become openly gay. I loved girls and loved to dance. He was devoted to his wife.
In the fall of that year I turned 14 and was ordained a Teacher. Within weeks I was once again called as President of my quorum. My Deacon’s advisor had talked to me about the fact that any priesthood holder might one day be called as the Prophet. On one occasion I went to the Bishop with a quorum management problem. He put me behind his desk and asked, “OK Bishop, what would you do?” I gave him my solution, he approved it and then witnessed to me that one day I would be a Bishop. Oh, Sweet Jesus, I was special.”
We moved again to the Victorville area and I was seven miles from church. Some Sundays an elderly sister would give me a ride to church. Others I would take off walking and hitchhike into town and back. Oh, how the Bishop praised me. I was so very special. I sang in the choir. I was the only non-adult.
In 1960 we moved to San Diego and I enrolled in college. That fall came the first inkling I had that I might be gay. At the time I had no idea what gay was. Having a college library to do research in, I took a look at what a “fag” might be and what a “queer” was. I then researched “homosexuality”. I discovered that homosexuals were insane or had a mental defect and were criminals and lived in prisons. Well, that wasn’t me and therefore I could not be gay! I enrolled in Lambda Delta Sigma, the church fraternity of the day but soon dropped out. The transition to college level classes required all of my attention and was not easy for me. It was essential that I succeed. I was to be the first college graduate in my family. I had one aunt that had made it, but in my generation I was breaking ground. As my intellectual self expanded, I entered what might be termed “the dark night of the soul”. My faith was gone. Nothing fit any more. I went to see my Bishop. We talked for some time and he couldn’t hit on what was wrong. Then he found it! It was self abuse. Now he had something to work with and he knelt beside me in prayer with his arm around my shoulders that I be given strength to overcome masturbation. Needless to say, it didn’t work and for several months I went inactive.
By my sophomore year I was back in attendance and pledged Lambda Delta Sigma again. I resumed church attendance and avoided the Bishop at all costs. At the same time, in order to have off campus parking I started attending Institute. My fraternity brothers and I developed deep bonds of brotherly love. I wonder how many of them were also gay. When I finally came out I divorced myself from all those friends to avoid hurting them.
When I turned 19, I was ordained an Elder. By the time I was 20 one my fraternity brothers was getting married and he and his intended asked me to be one of their witness for their sealing. I trouped off to the Bishop and managed to get a recommend to take out my endowments. I think it was approved because the assumption was that I would soon be leaving on a mission.
The endowment absolutely floored me. The robes, when Mormonism wasn’t like Catholicism. The arm waving and covenanting to allow my life to be taken was a shocker. The Law of the Gospel made me want to puke. No loud laughter, no evil speaking, all speech sober and consecrating all to the up-building of the kingdom on earth had nothing to do with the Gospel as I had learned it as protestant. I counseled with the director of the Institute and he found a great solution, he gave me a copy of “The First Three Degrees of Masonry.” Now that explained it all. Not. I worried, I fretted and wanted nothing more than to run. However, my entire life was centered around the church and so I stayed. Finally the President of the Student Branch, my favorite institute instructor and the director of the institute convinced me that what I should do is go back and see if I felt differently. I did and discovered the wondrous peace of the Celestial Room. Doing an endowment session became the price for sitting in the Celestial Room to meditate and pray. Then over time I was asked to be a veil worker and had other wonderful experiences. I was recruited to witness some very special family sealings. The temple came to represent love for me. As a veil worker I cannot number the times that I parted the veil and there stood a Sister from one of my old wards. Through the veil and into a hug. The supervisors didn’t like that at all. However, once the session was through I could go into the Celestial Room and be reunited with loved one. The temple became a place of love for me. I could ignore the silliness of the endowment and get to the heart of being a Christian. This was good.
Before I go on, I should talk a little about that first trip through the washing and anointing. My experience in the church had reinforced the modesty I had been raised with. All of a sudden they wanted me to get naked and put on a poncho and parade around. They told me to tie the strings on each side. Mine didn’t have any. I did get a peek at some lovely endowments along the way, but I knew I shouldn’t be looking or responding; but I did. All of a sudden someone is putting his hand under my poncho and rubbing water all over me. Then another man in slipping and sliding oil over all the same places. When they got to my loins I thought I would break and run. In those days we rented what was called a ceremonial garment. The ceremonial garment was a one piece affair that had long sleeves, long legs and a Peter Pan collar. It was closed up the front with a series of ties. The backside closed not at all. Another gentleman put me into it and told me it was to cover my nakedness. All I can say is that the best part of my nakedness hung out in the world and I wound up with a zipper rash on the best part of that. At the end, I was given my new name, Moroni, which I was to always remember and never reveal except at I place I would be shown thereafter. I loved the name and that made it somewhat better. I assumed the name was given by inspiration and pondered what the Lord was telling me. How sad it would have been if I had know everybody got the same name. I was so paranoid that I would forget it. I did not know that in a clutch I would transmogrify into Adam. I guess that would have made me God as well.
ADULT SEGMENT
I should be ashamed to say it but now I would make sure and wear a c___ and b___ harness and fling that poncho over my shoulder and parade for all to see. I would peek and ponder the many endowments being paraded though the temple. I’ve met temple workers who now brag about scoping out the goodies while performing the ordinances. One admitted to allowing his hands to wander, assisting the endowments into the more modern version of the garment. Then I hear about the six points of fellowship and can only conclude that Mormon men are still a super horny bunch.
END ADULT SEGMENT
Some time along in there, I was approached to serve a mission and the process got started. The Bishop found a widow to sustain me and the call was about to come when my father informed me that if I interrupted my education I would be disowned. I had been taught to honor my father and mother and so I declined the call.
When I turned 25, I was called into the SP’s counselors office and informed that I had been endowed and not gone on a mission and the time was ripe for me to get married… in the temple. As a result I committed the gravest and most damaging mistake of my life. I did as directed. Like all LDS men I had been pressured not to engage in premarital sex, not to pet etc. The implied promise was, of course, that once married sex would be good. Unfortunately he never attended my intended’s Laurels class. We married on April Fool’s day, a connection not to be taken likely. Little did I know that poor little virgin me was wedding a well used piece of merchandise. Think of the caramel or rose object lesson.
Adult Comment
I guess it was good she wouldn’t allow oral sex. After the divorce she told me she was afraid I would recognize her expertise.
End Adult Comment
Prior to the temple marriage I had explored sex with other men a couple of times. Like many of my contemporaries I did not feel I violate the Law of Chastity as I had not had sexual intercourse with any of the daughter’s of Eve, period! I was a little trouble by “unholy and impure practices” but since it was spelled out… The Branch President just didn’t ask the right questions. You would be surprised how many gay men I have met who used the same loop hole before it was closed.

At the time of my marriage I was still in school and didn’t feel we should start a family until I had graduated. We decided together that she would use the pill as she didn’t like condoms. Right away she went into depression because we were having sex for the wrong reason. That the Laurels for that. We were married in April and by June I was looking for hook-ups. I’m not proud of that, but it happened. Lots of things happened and I wound up tending bar. I met a young sailor and we became best friends. No intimacy. I invited him into my home and the upshot was that he and my wife fell in love and I got divorced. We had two children, a boy and a girl. My wife went to Vegas and six weeks later they were married. A month later they shipped out to Spain and I did not see my children for 6 years. I must own up to the fact that the failure of the marriage was at least half my fault. She had lied to get her recommend. I had hedged. He had all sorts of emotional issues. It was a symphony of three confused and dysfunctional personalities.
When the children were six and eight, she gave me custody and my lover and I took over the rearing. It was rocky at times but we made it. That first lover’s name was Terry.
Even though we loved one another deeply, we just couldn’t make everything match up. He was a bottom for S&M, B & D and got me into it. The only problem was that it didn’t work for him because he knew I loved him. We parted. Over the years we remained friends and occasional sex partners while he sought apparently more and more threatening scenes. One of the men he had relations with robber the adult store I owned. Terry was working and this fellow stabbed him to death as part of a robbery. After he was caught we learned his motive. He hadn’t ever killed anyone and wanted to see what it was like. The murderer is in prison without possibility of parole.
During the last year of that relationship I had met a wonderful young man. Terry encouraged me to have relations with him. The only problem was that we fell in love. I understand polyamory as I’ve been there. This man’s name was Troy. When Terry and I ended, Troy was not in the picture because he refused to be the cause of a split. After Terry and I broke up, Troy returned. He had married and his wife had lesbian tendencies. Long story, short his wife’s dalliance murdered him with a shotgun.
The deaths of these two men haunted me for years. I love them so very deeply and their loss was devastating.
I had never attended a gay pride event until one year Helen Reddy was appearing in San Diego. Love Helen Reddy! As I toured the festival grounds I saw a booth that looked awfully Mormon. I had head of a small gay church in LA and decided to try and talk with whoever was there. Had to wait around for a while. Lo, and behold it was four lesbians. One of them informed me she was an Apostle. I patted her hand and told her, “Of course you are.” I asked about temple and sealings. Whoa Ho, gay families can be together forever, too. I took their literature and read it all. They had their own version of modern revelations. There was not a copy with them but they put me in touch with a male member of the Q12 at my request. I had to make a trip to Sacramento to print out my own copy. I spent the weekend with lots of long talks. I picked up a lot of their history and really felt they were flirting with damnation, but pressed on. I should have run while I could.
I returned home, read, pondered, talked on the phone, prayed, fasted, prayed, no answer. It was beginning to pee me off. I know realize that for the second time in my life I had already accepted a premise and wanted justification. One day I was driving in my van wondering why I couldn’t get an answer. I heard a voice. “Put on your garments.” That struck me as foolish as all get out. “Put on your garments!” I talked with the lady apostle and her advice was to prayerfully get cleaned up, renew my covenants and put on my garments and try again. Once again there was long hours pleading, begging and demanding an answer. That amounted to, “Tell me what I want to hear.” Finally I was exhausted and I prayed, “Well, if you won’t answer any other way send me a dream.” Now it becomes important what I was asking for, “Is it right and just that I join with this group and use my priesthood in ministry.” In my dream I saw three figures, an elderly couple and a younger figure in the foreground. None of them spoke but they all had that smile that parents get when you’re a child and you get it right. I bit hook, line and sinker.
Shortly thereafter my confirmation as a member of their church the president came to a local meeting. He held and interview with me. He asked me where I thought I should serve. I had been briefed that the question might come. What I felt I had received was that I was called to be an Apostle and one day President of the church. I held back on the latter. He confirmed the call to the Apostleship but indicated that I was to be called as a Bishop first to serve as councilor in the Presiding Bishopric. The next conference was held in Sacramento and I was ordained a High Priest and Bishop. At the next conference I was ordained an Apostle and received “all the keys of the holy priesthood.”
I did a lot of traveling meeting with the saints and attempting to bring the sure word of peace. There were converts and boy did I feel justified in myself and my callings.
In 1989 the pres promulgated a “revelation”. Half of the church spotted it as the word of man and refused to sustain its promulgation. We descanters met, fasted, prayed and did it all again. When we arrived for the conference the pres staged a confrontational priesthood session in an attempt to force my resignation and that of as many detractors as possible. We finally arrived in the general session where an unbelievably confrontational meeting took place. In the end one of those who was on the nay side voted with the pres to keep the peace and the “revelation” was sustained by one vote. We were told we were welcome to leave the church. By the time the next conference had come around word was handed down that I should not attended as I would be asked to leave. I sat across the street from the chapel where the conference took place sipping coffee and reading a good book on the Shroud of Turin. There had been hopes of reconciliation, but that was not to be.
After the conference session where the acrimony took place, we rode home to San Diego in two cars. On the road in the car I was in, we discussed what we should do. As a group we felt inspired to schism officially. We were sailing down the freeway about Castiac when the other car pulled up alongside waving and screaming. We pulled off the freeway. They had reached the same “inspired” solution. The interesting part is that there are two highways that lead south from Sacramento and each car’s drive took a different alternative. After the conference in which reconciliation was not possible, we began the process of establishing a new church. I was sustained as its President. In the process of building this new church we tried to pull in all of the saints that had been similarly discarded over the years. That little church probably cut off a greater percentage of its members than JS did and he pitched a lot of people out.
The property on which I lived had a derelict building on the back, behind my home. We undertook efforts to convert it into a temple. It was 16 feet by something like 37 feet. The members helped me a bit, but I did a great deal of the work alone. The house was divided into two rooms for ordinance work. One end included cubicles for the intiatories, the other was the celestial room. The font was outside at one end. The veil of the temple was hung between two pillars that separated the two rooms. It was covered with sheer curtains intended to duplicate Moses’ tabernacle. The dedication was performed at the altar in the celestial room with those saints who were not High Priests observing through the sheer curtains. I wrote the prayer (revelation ?). I thought at the time it was revealed; it was at least pretty. Each member of the presidency delivered a portion of the dedicatory prayer. We performed proxy work for deceased loved ones and men who had died of AIDS. We performed second anointing. We did it all. This temple was a replacement for a movable version we had used previously. The font was dedicated separately by me at a subsequent date. That prayer was four star. Once again, revelation?
I received revelations. We performed ordinances. We tried to mirror what Joseph had done in the early days. The 12 anointed and blessed the Patriarch and he did the same for the 12. Once again the saints were in attendance. I thought I saw a vision of the celestial kingdom in which I was reunited with my deceased companions. I saw visions in the temple. Over the years I seemed to experience bi-location a couple of times. I always knew where I was but felt transported in the spirit. As I type this I have to question my sanity a bit. I am pleased to report that if I am still delusional, the delusions are no longer church or religion centered.
At one point I had the first president of the RCJC staying in my home. He left when the church failed to sustain him in his office. He had received revelations wholesale. I asked him how he felt about them now that he was no longer involved in the movement. All he could tell me was that he did not know what they meant but that he had felt they were revelations at the time. I couldn’t understand that until I finally had my snap experience that took me out of the restoration all together. “Snap” came from the Out of the Maze website. Others call it a WTF moment. I’ve had both.
Just as an aside as I am writing this, the process of reviewing all of this causes me to feel darkness around me. I would take it as the spirit of forgetfulness or something similar. There have been lots of side trips I could have taken in the narration but I have tried to focus on those things that had to do with my journey out of the Restoration Movement. I write for a while and then let it set. My stomach gets upset and I become concerned about falling back into depression. Mormonism and the entirety of the whole restoration movement has ruined my life and robbed me of joy. Now, the BIG 15 campaign against me and my kind as a despised class. It is hard not to get totally angry. I’d love to go do something nasty on the LA Temple grounds to show my disrespect for what they are. Back in the 60s they were still a cult but at least the leadership believed. From what I see now, at least since Gordon B, it is all a charade and self-serving vehicle for the hierarchy. How good it is to feel important. I like it when I was there and so I understand. Sometimes when I respond to a post on the board and get into one of the discussions, I get that same sort of feeling of importance that I know so much about doctrine and history. Then I wonder why it is so important to me. The whole system began as a fraud and today it is even worse. I just hope that this exercise will be, if not the final purging, the vehicle for ridding myself of all this. I should thank the lady who suggested I do this. Another thing that strikes me as strange about doing this is that I always refused to write my life history. What a good mormon-esk thing it is that I am doing.
Toward the end of my connection with the Restoration Fellowship in Jesus Christ, it seemed to me that many of the members were simply incapable of any sort of moral restraint. One apostle administered an all over anointing that he termed an apostolic anointing. WTF? One couple insisted on a sealing that I was dubious about and within six months the on-going cheating by one partner came to light. The wronged brother asked me for dissolution of the sealing. My response was that it was never of effect anyway, but that I would not seal him to another companion, ever. A group of members traveled to the temple to obtain endowments. I was in a bad place in my own relationship and determined not to enter the temple with them. I relied on my councilor to make sure all was appropriate. He had bullied his way into not only endowing members from his area, but joining two of them in a sealing. Later I learned that the excursion group had gone out to the bars after the temple session and the newly sealed couple picked up a three way. I sank pretty deeply into despair and tendered my resignation from the presidency. I was nagged into revoking the resignation and attended one final conference.
During that conference my address had to do with the essence of the Gospel, the true nature of priesthood (love and ministry), the Holy Spirit of Promise foundation for all ordinances and the avoidance of men / women with bottles of oil. At the priesthood session of that conference I had asked the Patriarch to the Church for a blessing. In the blessing I was told to return home from the conference and wait upon the Lord. I did as directed. Another call to ministry has never come. Now that my healing has progressed, largely assisted by this website, I do not expect anything more to happen. The body of the church met a few months later for a conference without my knowledge. I was released, once again without my knowledge. That didn’t matter much to me. One councilor was dead of AIDS and the other was called into the new presidency. Within months he had resigned. Subsequently I have heard of his death of AIDS as well. At some point a member of a new presidency called me to let me know that the church wanted me back and offered to call me as Patriarch to the Church. I declined the offer.
One of the strangest experiences during my involvement in this branch of the restoration was a set of apostolic visits I made to a particular city. The visits were to attempt to establish a branch of one or the other of the two gay churches. The attempts were centered on one brother who had belonged to the CJCLDS. I was one of probably six different presidents or apostles who had visited. I traveled to that city four times that I can remember. After the RFJC had moved on without me, I received a call from the brother. He asked the strangest question, “Why didn’t you proposition me for sex?” My response was that it was not the purpose of my visit. He then said to me, “But every other brother who has visited me did and I had sex with all of them.” “All?” “Yes.” I had no idea what a collection of Joseph Smith style letches I had been involved with.
Lest I seem arrogant in that proclamation or holier than them, let me hasten to say that I have always had a robust joy in sex. I’ve had many encounters both while involved in one of the churches, before and since. However, never once did I use my office in a church to procure sexual partners. Any time when I was traveling on church business I never once engaged in sexual activity. Often I would go to the bars with members or contacts. Sometimes I would be propositions. Sometimes I wanted to, but never once did I engage in such behavior in the context of my priesthood offices.
It has been hard to leave the restoration behind. Sometime in the past few years I happened upon a website called “Through the Maze”. The owner of the website had written a book about his trip out of Mormonism that was available for free on line. I read his story. It was boring because my reaction was, “been there, done that.” Then he described the one moment in which his life changed. He termed it a “snap” experience. The sufferer is trundling along, puzzled and disturbed, learning more and more about the cult he was involved in and suddenly, snap perspective changes and it’s like, “how did I not see that before.” At the instant of reading that, SNAP and I knew that since that day when I was a thirteen year old boy I had submerged myself in a cult. Then I began the process of recovery. I only found exmormon.org relatively recently, but have found it most helpful in getting over Mormonism. I have enjoyed the exchanges and the sharp wit of many of the devotees. Steve Benson’s knowledge and unique insights have helped a lot. Raptor Don’s wit makes me clutch my sides. Gay, lay, ale seems to always raise insightful questions. I would like to thank each of those who post and respond. The interchange is probably what brings the healing. That doesn’t mean that any of us is right or has the answer, but the sharing helps. My Mom always said, “A problem shared is half solved.” I guess the key is to share until the part that is left is small enough to move on.
Like many on this board, I have family in the CJCLDS (and that is as close as I can get to typing the name. My brother and his family are locked in as far as I know. One of his sons walked away in his middle teens. I’ve never known why. My brother is still a loving brother, but couldn’t deal with my homosexuality and we are estranged. My sister returned to activity a couple of years back and is now a TBM, temple going, tithing on gross Saint. We talk and try to educate her, but the end each time is, “Well, I just can’t understand all that, but I enjoy going to church and it makes me feel good.” What can I say?
In the introduction to submitting one’s story it is mentioned that one can include their name if one wishes and may include an email address. I am Charlie Morgan. I may be contacted at charlie1.morgan@att.net.