"Ephraim Hath Hired Lovers": That Time I Was Fired From Church

"More gravy, please!"

On Sunday, October 24, 2021, I was fired from teaching at Church.

Not disciplinarily ― nothing so formal; I was released because I had fallen out-of-favor with those in charge for the things I had taught during my lessons.

Since then I haven't been asked to speak in Sacrament Meeting or to teach a lesson (although, to be technical, I've substituted in Primary a few times; my youngest is 8 and I love to regale the kids with Bible stories ― you should see my Goliath impression).

Don't feel sorry for me because (spoiler alert) my story has a happy ending (and, thanks to God, always will; which is one reason we can accept disappointment without becoming bitter).

The wheel turns, and turns again.  What was lost shall be restored; and what is gained shall be given away.  Such is the order of things.  I am grateful my journey has led me here, and yours, too.

Back in 2021 I was serving in the Elders Quorum as an Instructor.  I erred in being a bit too liberal in my sentiments; at times I was too candid in my observations to be considered mainstream or "in line."

As Walt Whitman said:

"I know I am restless, and make others so / For I confront peace, security, and all the settled laws, to unsettle them."

Back in 2021 I was like a newborn foal trying its legs, still learning to walk the tightrope that comes with being 'a voice in the wilderness.'  I had this desire to warn my neighbors, but how to do that without becoming an annoyance?  Occasionally I pushed too hard, too focused on my point rather than on my listeners, and I fell off the rope in my zeal (thank goodness for the Lord's safety nets of grace.  And do-overs).

Preaching the gospel has always been something of a passion of mine.  For me, a life without teaching the word of God would be like serving mashed potatoes without gravy: dry and boring.  "More gravy, please!"

On that fateful Sabbath afternoon, I received a visit from the Elder's Quorum President, just hours after I had taught my last lesson.  Fittingly, knowing what was coming (I had been apprised of the situation by a friend in leadership), I chose to teach my final message on the Atonement of Jesus Christ (might as well go out with a bang ― after all, knowing my pink slip was coming, what could they do, release me twice?).

I opened the door and warmly shook the hand of my then-EQ President.  I know better than to burn bridges; I salt no earth.  I had prepared myself, emotionally, to bow before my fate as the people of Anti-Nephi-Lehi had theirs (Alma 24:21).

I welcomed the EQ President into my living room, grateful he had come in person to deliver the news rather than sending a text (the coup de grace deserves a personal touch).  We sat next to my piano (which I play poorly).  I remember wearing shorts and a t-shirt, feeling underdressed, the way we often do for occasions that become significant in hindsight.
 
The EQ President was very polite and diplomatic, and let me know they had called someone to replace me.  Had I not been informed of the backroom discussions going on about me, I would have been none-the-wiser.

I thanked him and we embraced.  It was done; that concluded my twenty-plus-years as an instructor in the Church ― which had started as a 19-year old missionary, so idealistic and hopeful, serving in Melun, France. ("Je vis une lumiere plus brillante que le soleil desendre peu a peu jusqu'a tombe sur moi.")

As I like to say, life rarely travels as the crow flies.  That’s part of the fun: all the twists and blown tires on the freeway of life, and the unexpected moments of grace.

But if my experience has taught me anything, it is the straight and narrow road is rife with potholes.  At some point our motor vehicles overheat and won't go any further, the engines on fire, with steam pouring beneath the hood.  We have to leave our cars by the wayside and walk the remainder of the way.

It is only when we get out of our cars that we encounter other travelers on the path, equally weary and windswept and sunburned, carrying gas cans in hand ― and then we realize we don't need those gas cans after all; for in the end, it was never about the path, but the company.

Take Up Your Cross
a poem

​Counting
wheat
     from
the backseat
 
chauffeured
to and fro
 
driven
toward Calvary
     (“Siri, give me directions  
                        ―
by the shortest route, please”)
    
     as though in a motor race
 
     passing by
windows rolled up
in a hurry
     to bury our dead
 
chasing a clergyman’s
          frock.
 
  : : PARK HERE : :
 
       and walk
       with Simon the Cyrene
the deathmark
      down
      the Dolorosa
 
on hand
​     and 
foot.

The Lesson I Never Had a Chance to Teach

Hosea was a minor prophet with major truth-bombs.  He reframed Israel's relationship with the Lord as that of man-and-wife (gotta love Gomer).

Jesus Himself quoted Hosea in Luke 23:30; many of the patterns we observe in ancient Israel are repeating themselves.  I want to draw your attention to Hosea's words about the temple, found in Hosea Chapter 8:1-14.

"Set the trumpet to thy mouth."

The Lord is telling His prophet, Hosea, to raise a trumpet, which is significant; trumpets are loud; they carry over large distances.  This is God's way of saying to Hosea, "Don't be timid, it's time to broadcast my word on the 10 o'clock news."  Trumpets represent God's "public-facing" word, His voice unto all peoples.

And boy, does God have a message for Israel!

"He shall come as an eagle against the house of the Lord."

Waaaaait a minute.  God compares himself to an eagle; eagles are fierce and fearsome creatures; this is no Dove.  We're talking sharp beaks and razor claws: which God shall turn towards . . . His house?  Why?

Why would God be against the house of the Lord?

"Because they [his people] have transgressed my covenant, and trespassed against my law."

Look!  The eagle is circling, above us, even now.  Watch its slow descent just before the dive.

"Israel shall cry unto me, My God, we know thee."

I love the people's response; Israel's reaction to the Eagle circling above is not to repent, but to cry, "Hey, Lord, it's us, your people!" waving their arms, confused.  "Why are you unhappy with us, when we're dutiful, temple-attending, church-going folk, who study the words of the prophet and go to seminary and pay tithing?  Don't you recognize us and our covenants?"

"Israel hath cast off the thing that is good"

This is important: what is "good"?  What has Israel cast off?  Well, it must be referring to God (who is the only "good" thing I know).

Instead of being draped in God's garments, Israel has dressed herself in another's garb; her garments smell of her paramour's perfume, and stinks.

Who is Israel's new beau that has replaced God in the bedchamber?

"They have set up kings, but not by me: they have made princes, and I knew it not"

Ah, yes, we have courted and consorted with spiritual pontiffs and presidents; our popes and prophets.

Instead of faithfulness to our Betrothed (Christ), we have assembled ourselves in a Harem of Honey-Lipped Pretenders, a polygamy of priests.

"Of their silver and their gold have they made them idols, that they may be cut off."

You see, infidelity is about so much more than sex: we have surrendered our virtue on beds of ivory; with gold and silver we have sold our birthright for temples that lack the Spirit of Him who is our Husbandman.

"Thy calf, O Samaria, hath cast thee off"

The calf, of course, is referring to the golden calf that Israel is famous for.  Samaria refers to those who trust in the flesh, and are now betrayed by it.  We are "cast off" the heifer's hind-end.

"Mine anger is kindled against them ...
for from Israel was it also: the workman made it; therefore it is not God"

What God is saying through Hosea is that Israel's temples, you see, have become a calf; an idol.  God points to the workmanship of our hands, the marble and stained glass and crystals and gold leaf, and says, "That is of men, and not of me."

This is why the martyr Stephen was able to declare to his Jewish brothers:

   And they made a calf
   in those days,
   and offered sacrifice
   unto the idol,
   and rejoiced in the works
   of their own hands.

   Howbeit the most High
   dwelleth not in temples
   made with hands.

(Acts 7: 41, 48)
   
What is the result of God's people trusting in their temples and in their own workmanship?

"Israel is swallowed up: now shall they be among the Gentiles as a vessel.... [For] Ephraim hath hired lovers."

The effect of a temple-theology is more insidious than we think: it results in the Lord's people being diluted among the nations, until they resemble them so well we can't tell them apart from the Gentiles.  This is ironic because it shows, over time, temples become a sign not of our peculiarness, but our worldliness.

"But the Lord accepteth them not"

Yikes!  What is the cause of the Lord's rejection?  This is truly awful; what is the precipitating cause for the Lord unfriending His people, and "accepting them" no more?  Look:

"For Israel hath forgotten his Maker, and buildeth temples."

That is the reason, believe it or not.  The triggering event for the Eagle's dive is when Israel makes the temple their God.

Hitchhiking on the Covenant Path

The first blog I wrote after I was released from my calling was November 1, 2021, the post, "And There Was No Contention In All the Land: Part 9." 

In it, I quoted one of my favorite verses, Alma 1:20, which describes my Pollyannaish vision for believers:

   They did impart
   the word of God,
   one with another,
   without money
   and without price.

(Alma 1:20)

​What strikes me about this verse is the way it connects God's word to money.  It makes me wonder if those who share it freely "without money and without price" are the ones God trusts with it.

Does the act of putting covenants behind a paywall deprive us of the word of God?  If that's true, then it has profound implications for the Church.  Today the Church has grown rich, and as a consequence, has become poor.

(Now I think you're seeing why I was fired from my calling.  The one thing the Church doesn't like is when we apply the scriptures, out loud, to our policies and doctrines.)

But you know my heart, and the way I love my brothers and sisters in the Church; I wish for nothing more than for God to deliver us from the pickle we're in, caused by the doctrines and policies of men that place a premium on what God has decreed to be "free" (2 Nephi 2:4).

This was the message of my poem, Sign, which is a dramatization of Alma's confrontation with Korihor, highlighting the cost of religion versus the yoke of the gospel.

I remember composing the poem over several months, while in the midst of a basement remodel, which meant my desk (and all the furniture from the basement) had been crammed into my bedroom, which is on the second story, and in August it gets so hot our air conditioning doesn't have enough oomph to keep the top floor below 80 degrees, and so I was hunched over my keyboard, a sheen of sweat across my brow, trying to get it 'right.'

Korihor, remember, accused Alma of fleecing the flock and profiting from his calling as High Priest.  Alma took the charge seriously; he didn't dismiss the accusations lightly, but confronted them head-on.  Being accused of receiving a stipend for his ministry as High Priest was probably the worst insult Alma could have received.

Alma:

   A price will be paid
   but not by you. To restore
   our perfect frame
   God himself shall burn
   away our shame
   with scalding milk
   and blood-red honey.

Korihor, though, wasn't convinced; he had preached with great success (especially with the ladies, see Alma 30:18), and he projected his own priestcraft onto Alma (very Freudian).

Korihor:

   You make merchandise
   of the cross. But
   I will believe you
   are one of the humble few
   followers of that Christ
   you say will come
   only on this wise:
   show me a sign.

I tried to capture in poetic fashion the sign that Alma gave Korihor ― the one we always miss.  For some reason, everyone focuses on the fact Korihor was struck dumb.  But that wasn't the main sign Alma gave to Korihor.

Alma:

   Know this:
   the narrow way
   requires no money
   at all to follow Him
   who will be crucified.
   But the cost
   to keep your self-
   righteous pride?
   You will pay
   handsomely
   to enter the wide.

The Covenant Path, as practiced and preached today, resembles the wide way, the broad path that leads to death and hell, because it functions as a Toll Road.  Tying tithing to temple worthiness has turned high priests into highwaymen.

And so Alma gives Korihor the sign of a true messenger from God, even that of a High Priest from the beginning:

   I bear no purse, carry no scrip:
   I hold sacred the sign of my apostleship.

​​      According to the Holy Order
      to which I am called
      I give you this sign:

          As high priest
          I refused to take
          so much as a single
          senine.