The last remarks of the final talk hung thick in the air, and all I could muster was, “I can’t do this anymore.”
I was exhausted.
After sitting through yet another 10 hours of the church’s semi-annual General Conference I sat and reflected on what I had just experienced and what I had gained. All I felt was a weariness that had saturated me; it was more than just the mental effort of focusing on so many hours of one somber talk after another.
I was spiritually exhausted.
I had not been spiritually fed… I was not inspired, uplifted, or edified. There were a couple of talks that offered brief glimmers of hope but were quickly extinguished under the weight of the rest. I was left spiritually drained.
A few years ago, I would have blamed myself for not being dedicated enough. I would have placed myself at fault and held myself responsible for somehow failing to be righteous enough to end the conference feeling this way. Everyone around me always talked about how great it was. What was I doing wrong?
That internal struggle would be kept in silence due to the risk of having my believing friends and family shrink away in fear. To admit that I didn’t enjoy conference would surely lead to negative ramifications in one form or another.
They said to go into conference with an open heart. I did that.
They said to pray prior to conference seeking answers. I did that. Desperately.
They said to keep trying and I’ll get it. Isn’t more than four decades of trying enough?
To admit that I have never found conference to be a positive experience was sure to buy me an express ticket with an apostate upgrade straight past hell and into outer darkness. But this time was different.
I was finally being more honest with myself.
In that moment I realized something that on some level I already knew but I had previously refused to recognize out of fear. If I want to be inspired, strengthened, or spiritually fulfilled I won’t find it here.
I can’t do this anymore.
I won’t do this anymore.
In that moment I didn’t feel the cautionary darkness that I was taught to fear. Instead, I was met with calmness, followed by a sense of peace, and with that peace, I began to feel hope. The world came to a momentary stillness as I closed my eyes and released a sigh that came from the depths of my very soul.
I finally found it.
Little did I know that in order to find the peace and hope that I sought from General Conference I would have to step away from it.
This was the path I had to walk, but this time the path is mine, and it is a path of life, light, and love that I choose.
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