Latter-day Saint Identity Crisis: Being the Same in a World of Different

The fascinating thing was that I actually felt like I didn’t fit in. Mormon-born and raised. BYU Graduate. Serving a full-time mission for the Church in Brazil. It’s not hard to find someone with the same resume in LDS circles. But there I was sitting on the bus far away in a foreign country and confessing to my companion just why I felt so worthless on the mission.

  

“This just isn’t me,” I said at one point. Because the truth was, I wasn’t a quiet, dignified, naturally sensitive individual. I wasn’t bubbly or particularly friendly either. I didn’t like rules and I struggled with the chain of hierarchy that held me accountable to eighteen-year-old boys who hadn’t seen a day of college and had never left home until the mission. I was independent, sometimes demanding and blunt, terrible at small talk, and felt more likely to lead an army of revolutionaries than calmly and quietly lead an investigator to the Gospel. I believed in missionary work, and I trusted the Gospel was of God. But that didn’t change that I felt quite convinced that my personality—my self-defined identity—was unamenable to the life of a successful missionary. I ranted about this for a few minutes.  

That’s when my companion asked the unexpected: 

“Did you think that God wanted you to be something else in order be successful?” 

Her tone suggested I should disagree, but maybe that’s what I was thinking. I must have hesitated long enough for her to elaborate. 

“If God made you energetic and forceful, then I think He was expecting you to be an energetic and forceful missionary.” 

That’s when the expectations and stereotypes fell to pieces in my mind. For some reason, it hadn’t ever occurred to me that my personality could be a tool rather than an inhibitor or mere statement of fact. It could actually increase my capacity rather than merely define it. In a way, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since then. 

We live in a world of labels. Extrovert/Introvert. Rich/Poor. Geek/Prep/Jock. There is also race, gender, and a multitude of other descriptors we define ourselves by as if desperate for stereotype. I don’t think it’s all bad. Anyone who knows me knows that I love personality tests. I’m a Red/Blue ENTJ Type 3 Gryffindor who wishes only to be seen as capable and successful in public. I consistently ask my friends questions about how they define themselves, and am known to force personality tests on others within days of first acquaintance. And it’s not like we are purely gratifying selfish vanity. The long question of the ages is one of definition. Who am I? What’s the point of life? What choices should we make? Why do we make them? 

History suggests a never-ending number of people from all walks of life struggling daily to come to grips with themselves. We want, I would even say at times, crave an identity. And not because we want to put ourselves in specially-labeled boxes never again to be opened or explored. I think it’s because what we really crave is enough understanding of ourselves to find meaning in our lives. 

This isn’t a strange idea for Mormons. We’re raised in the LDS church to talk about those questions of identity. The most recognized hymn in church—at least from my experience—is “I am a Child of God.” Elder Donald L. Hallstrom of the Seventy recently gave a talk the same title in General Conference.[i] Similarly, President Uchtdorf, spoke in an April 2013 session about the “Four Titles” by which members should identity themselves.  Both of them spoke to the truth that we are, above all, a son or daughter of God. It is our eternal identity that “defines all of us in the most fundamental way.”[ii] It means we are capable of becoming like Him and receiving all that He has—including his eternal joy and happiness. 

In a recent Relief Society class, we read this quote from a BYU devotional given by Elder Tad R. Callister:

“There is a sentiment among many in the world that we are the spirit creations of God, just as a building is the creation of its architect or a painting the creation of its painter or an invention the creation of its inventor. The scriptures teach, however, a much different doctrine. They teach that we are more than creations of God; they teach that we are the literal spirit offspring or children of God our Father. What difference does this doctrinal distinction make?....Identity in large measure determines our destiny.”[iii]

That struck me as fascinating. To confess to being a mere creation of God, as opposed to His actual son or daughter, would be to create an end of a mere descriptor. Yes, we worship God as the creator, or organizer, of the Earth. But imagine if a mother saw her child as only her creation or possession as opposed to a potential father capable of becoming an incredible contributor to society? How might she raise him different? How would he see himself? To misplace our identity is to deny our own potential.  

Except this raises its own questions. My example in the beginning demonstrated the necessity of celebrating and utilizing differences as a means for growth. Thus, there seems to be an almost inherent paradox in the church-advocated idea of being the SAME in terms of eternal identity while also being strikingly DIFFERENT in actuality and practice. It's not surprising that some members of the Church sometimes struggle with a sense of belonging. The Mormon identity crisis is one that clings to some labels while still trying to explain them within a universal narrative of oneness. We feel pressured to avoid misplacing identity while simultaneously trying to understand our unique one. So, how do we navigate the world of labels, variations of personalities, and stereotypes without misplacing our identity or ignoring our fundamental and unique character traits? 

The problem does not rest alone in the existence of labels or stereotypes, but rather in the danger of using them as ends in themselves, as opposed to tools for growth or understanding. 

For example, if I were to decide that that my being an “extrovert” meant that the lifestyle of an extrovert was an end in itself, then the fulness of my potential was already reached with my recognition of the title (or perhaps with my undeviating loyalty to its stereotype). To step outside the lines of the label would then lead to confusion and possibly self-condemnation. 

On the other hand, the recognition of an unchanging eternal identity as a child of God actually enhances our ability to explore our differences, personality traits, and the truth or falseness of labels in a protected environment where changing our own label doesn't always hinder our progression. Meaning, of course, that we don't have to know ourselves explicitly and perfectly at the start because it is all a part of a process. 

This realigns all sorts of labels. As a personal confession, I have OCD and some social anxiety. But the recognition of it pales somewhat in the face of an eternal identity as someone who is capable of overcoming all things through Christ. If I were to define myself by my weaknesses or strengths, as opposed to my actual potential, then I would deny myself the ability to escape from or build upon them. But accepting them (and I mean really accepting them as fact) in the context of a broader identity actually liberates the stereotype and allows me to face the challenges associated with them with an understanding of purpose and an increase of hope through Christ of eventually finding relief.

This can also apply to simple categorizations of our differences. For example, when I first realized that some people made decisions based on feelings (rather than ignoring them as I routinely do), it was like a whole new world opened up to me. I no longer thought people who acted different than me were uniformed or ignorant (a common mistake for thinking types, I would perhaps unfairly postulate). Beyond that, realizing that I wasn’t the only person with some level of inexplicable anxiety or compulsion was comforting. In effect, some labels, when used as means to understanding, can be helpful and perhaps necessary.

To use a church example. Anyone who has seen my reaction to a tear-gushing, over-emotional soliloquy in testimony meeting can verify that I have my own challenge with the exploitation of labels. But rather than dismiss such a scene as mere dramatics, it would be helpful for me to understand that some people respond differently to the Spirit, or express experiences with the Spirit differently than I do. On the other hand, it would also be a mistake to assume that because someone is more inclined to express emotion or shed tears, crying is a prerequisite for spiritual experiences. The label or personality trait may help us understand one another, but it should not be used to define, lest it limits actual experiences with the Spirit and short-changes reality and our potential.

Likewise, and stepping away from personality, one can get trapped in the labels of sin and addiction. While sin is a result of personal choice, we must not become entrapped in the idea of it as an identity. If one defines himself as an alcoholic, for example, it could inhibit his understanding that he can one day NOT be an alcoholic (or give in to the impulses of alcoholism). This is not to deny the label as fact—addictions and tendencies must be recognized in order to be overcome, even if this doesn’t fully come in this life. But we must delineate the difference between a fact or mere label and an actual, eternal identity.

The danger, then, is not in a recognition that maybe some people are energized by social interactions while others are content away from it--but instead it comes when we use our differences to create an identity for ourselves that denies our potential. When our “personality” or “weakness” or “strength” becomes the END rather than a means, it creates a misplaced identity that limits our potential and growth. On the flip side, when reaching our potential as children of God with an eternal inheritance becomes the END or destination, then the weaknesses of mortality and the differences of personality become parts of a process. We realize what we should do with our labels, aside from merely believing or not believing them. That constitutes an empowering reality that begs for the use of an informed moral agency to improve and refine.

In short, we can be a faithful, active Latter-Day Saints and righteous mothers and fathers even if we don’t fit into the stereotype or mold (or even if we do). But this is NOT because we have a different identity. On the contrary, it’s because we have the SAME one—as children of God, our potential is endless. Our destiny is magnificent. And our personality, weaknesses, and strengths all become part of a narrative of our quest for perfection. In effect, as we utilize our various gifts and personalities to serve God and love others in our own unique but righteous ways, we are enabled to remain true to ourselves without short-changing our potential. Of course, we all need to be refined. We all make mistakes. In some way or another, we all need to change. And, ultimately, we are all equally reliant on the Atonement of Jesus Christ. But that’s just it. Independent of our background, characteristics, or personality traits, we follow the same path to joy and perfection while still being very different people. Our true identity, then, becomes the source of our strength and the unifier of our souls. It’s perhaps the only one that really matters.  

We are all literal children of God. 

  

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[i] Halstrom, Donald L. “I am a Child of God,” April 2016 https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2016/04/i-am-a-child-of-god?lang=eng.

[ii] Uchtdorf, Dieter F. “Four Titles,” April 2013. https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2013/04/four-titles?lang=eng

[iii] Callister, Tad R. “Our Identity and Our Destiny,” BYU Speeches, August 2012. https://speeches.byu.edu/talks/tad-r-callister_our-identity-and-our-destiny/