What I believe

I believe in the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Essentially, I am a believing member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because of that simple, profound fact. I have a spiritual knowledge—a witness—of where the Book of Mormon came from and recognize the divine hand that brought it forth from the dust of forgotten history. I have a testimony of the power of the Book of Mormon and believe it speaks of Christ in a sacred, understandable light, illuminating His role in our lives. While I do not—and perhaps cannot—understand every word that proceeds from a prophet's mouth, I have faith in the leaders of the Church. I believe that, like all of us, they are earnestly seeking further light and knowledge that only God can provide. Through prayer and study, I have learned how to listen to the Holy Spirit confirm truth to me in my life, heart, and mind.

I love being part of the body of Christ and feeling the love and compassion of a ward family. I try my best to emulate my Savior's example, and have long loved the inspired words of King Benjamin from Mosiah 4:15: “…ye will teach them to love one another, and to serve one another.” Truthfully, my faith is all I have known from the start. I was born into it, albeit into a family of varying degrees of faith. Early on, I quickly grew to understand something deeper about the religion in which I was being raised. While many of my family members ebbed and flowed in their faith and commitment to the gospel, each one of them abounded in good works, cultivated a solemn morality, and sought to expand their lives with truth and wisdom.

To me, this spoke of the genuine influence of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, if only by proximity, not by pure, consistent practice. I learned that merely having a tiny seed of hope in Christ can bring about blessings. In an unexpected and peculiar way, this foundation of my testimony of the gospel has yielded fruits that could not have been predicted in my youth. I find a resilience to temptation, a willingness to look beyond certitudes—to embrace nuance and complexity—and the flexibility to adapt when faced with doubt and hardship. Without going into further detail at this time, I am a believing member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because of the fruits I have seen in my life, rather than in spite of the flaws the Church, like any human institution, may exhibit.

I have a firm testimony of the power of prayer in our lives and can promise anyone within the sound of my voice that God does answer prayers—not always in the way we expect, but always in the way we need. The mere act of opening your heart to your Maker requires humility and a sacrifice of control to something bigger than yourself. I hold fast to the promises of God that if I look to Him in all things, I will be guided to do good continually.

I honor and respect the priesthood with which I have been blessed in this life. I realize that by my sex assigned at birth, I was given the right and responsibility to exercise this sacred power to lift up all others and care for the poor in spirit. Not only do I have a chance to share of my physical substance in this life, I have the honor to promote spiritual well-being to those who seek their Heavenly Parents' blessings on earth.

Which brings me to my next point: being transgender does not exclude me from practicing, in full faith, all of the tenets of the gospel and administering to those in need through the power of the priesthood. I am careful to attend to current Church guidelines regarding social transitioning, retain my "he" pronouns, and do not have any current plans of medically transitioning to alleviate the dysphoria I have experienced since I was a child.

I am choosing to walk down this path, not primarily for me, but to shine a light for the thousands of other Latter-day Saint individuals who experience, and sometimes struggle with, gender dysphoria. I walk this path as my way forward—a path of personal revelation—to better understand the conditions of mortality so that I may lead my family alongside my wife with presence and demonstrable humility. If I wanted life to be easy, I would not have come out in any way. I would have tamped down the emotions that well up each time I look in the mirror and see someone that I am not—someone who does not fully reflect the person I know myself to be. I would have forcefully dried the tears that I cry each time I experience the rigid, often painful binary culture of our Church. I could have done this, as it has been my way of life for 40+ years, and I am damn good at hiding from the world, even from myself.

But my faith in Christ and in the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ compels me to take up this yoke, to embrace this challenge, and to walk this path. I will never be alone, because in Gethsemane my Savior took upon Himself not only the scarlet sins of an entire world but the immensity of their sorrows, their weaknesses, and their struggles with mental and emotional health. Christ died for me so that I may truly live—authentically and completely.

It is now my responsibility to live my life for Him, so that through me, others may come to know Him—not just the historical Jesus, but the living Christ who walks with us today.

Hello, and welcome

Sharing this part of myself isn't easy. In the past year, I have felt the pull on my heart to open up to the world about who I am; who I have always been as far as I can remember. My gender identity is a part of me that I'm now ready to share, even though it feels both exhilarating and unnerving.

During different periods of my life, I have made the active choice to hide who I am, often at great personal cost, whether out of comfort, safety, convenience, role requirements, or even denial. But an interesting thing happens as we grow older; the facades we create for ourselves tend to dissolve in the face of our own mortality. Over time, I slowly realized how dreadfully stuck I was in my own head, with anxiety and depression only the tip of the iceberg of my emotional and mental health struggles. I began to see how my juggling of choices forced me into a cognitive corner; constantly choosing between authenticity and conformity led to a sense of being trapped.

And the last straw was how it affected my faith in God.

You see, Christianity has a tenuous relationship with gender, focused on a strict male/female binary. This tension was something I wrestled with deeply. In the beginning, it is said that God made mankind; male and female, he created them. So throughout history, those who didn't fit those molds were given a bad rap and forced into seclusion or worse. But we must remember that though God works in simplicity… I do not believe he limits the creativity of his expression, including in the realm of gender identity.

The same God who created the heavens and the earth, giving them day and night, oceans and dry land, also caused that there be transitions betwixt the binary aspects of his wonder. Between day and night, we find dawn and dusk, and a thousand varying degrees of beautiful shades of color and light. Marshes, fenlands, bogs, and wetlands give delicate and tenuous life a place to settle down and thrive, whereas in the dry deserts or deep oceans, they would suffer and perish. Just as these liminal spaces, these in-between places, exist in nature, so too does my gender identity exist as a valid and beautiful expression of God's creation.

I exist in that in-between space.

I believe that my gender identity, like those who identify strictly as male or female, occupies a sacred and equally valid space. Indeed, I believe that because of my gender identity, I have the blessed opportunity to love and understand all of God's creations, regardless of circumstance, creed, gender, race, social standing, or any of the other constructs that tend to separate and not unify mankind.

So please, be patient with me as I share my experiences with you through this dedicated account. I understand the discomfort that this topic brings. I realize that some of you may equate those feelings of discomfort to unyielding confirmation that who I am is in opposition to my Heavenly parentage. I challenge each of you who finds themselves coming to this conclusion to walk with me with an open heart and listen to my story, and gently open up to the risk that when we limit ourselves to comfortable topics, familiar echo chambers, and like-minded relationships, we limit our ability to love our neighbors as Christ would want us to.

P.S. I know that sharing this part of myself might bring up questions for some of you. To help address those, I've created a Frequently Asked Questions page where I delve into some of the complexities of being transgender and a member of the Church. I discuss how I reconcile my gender identity with my faith, the challenges I face, and what it means to be an ally to the LGBTQ+ community. If you're curious to learn more, I invite you to explore the FAQ page. It's a space for open dialogue and deeper understanding.