I stopped wearing my garments

 22 September 2021


It's time to air out my dirty laundry on social media. In my faith tradition, we wear religious garments everyday after we make certain promises to God in the temple, and these garments are a reminder of our promises to God. I think this is a beautiful thing, to have so much faith that your clothing reflects that. It's not a unique concept to Mormonism, like, any orthodox religion has religious clothing. Now, we shouldn't care if other mormons wear their garments, but of course we do and everybody in the church looks at what each other is wearing, trying to figure out who's wearing garments and who isn't. A year or two ago, I stopped wearing mine. 


I really loved my garments and I was proud of the fact that I loved the temple. I still love the temple in many ways, but my beliefs have changed quite a bit. I also don't agree with the commandments. My beliefs just changed over time, my spiritual journey is subtle and ambiguous. There wasn't any moment where I decided not to wear the garments, I just kinda weaned off. Looking back though I've come up with a reason why I don't. Maybe it's not a honest thing to do to retroactively explain, I don't know if I can pinpoint an exact reason. But this is my feeling right now.


I believe it's offensive to my orthodox friends to wear the garments. In their minds, I'm not worthy, and I am defiling the sacred nature of the temple and garments. (Side note: I am SO not offended by other's feelings about my worthiness, I don't believe in sin or worthiness so it's irrelevant to me) Since I don't want to offend my orthodox friends, I decided to look a little different to them. And I like diversity in the church, I don't mind being that guy who doesn't wear garments, and I like that my testimony of the gospel isn't exactly the same as everyone else's. I'm just trying to balance being honest with my faith community and not offending my faith community.


But here's the sad part, and the part that weighs on me this morning. I went down to my parents house to do laundry. I thought we had agreed to just not talk about it, but the shirt I'm wearing today obviously shows I'm not wearing garments. My Dad sat down on the couch across the living room and asked, "Do you not wear your garments?" And he was upset. I love my Dad, I don't want him to think I hate his faith. It's your son rejecting eternal truths, or maybe refusing to save face and just wear the garments. That hurts. I get that, I see that, and maybe this is an impass and this will just be a division my family has to live with. But dang it, it makes me sad. 


He left to the garden for about half an hour and that whole time my heart was screaming "go talk to him he deserves an explanation." It's weird to have my conscience urge me so strongly, it's not something I experience often. Of course I tried to suppress this feeling. That's a hard conversation that I just would rather avoid. But eventually I mustered up the courage to sit him down on some patio furniture and talk to him. I don't think it was satisfactory to him, he and I engage with Mormonism in incredibly different ways. Still, I'm proud that I did that and I opened up my ears to his pain and disappointment. Don't take this like my Dad is a bad guy, he's not. He's a very good man and I love that he raised me. And while my heart is heavy this morning I wouldn't have it any other way. This is part of being a family.

Love you all.


Update from an hour and a half after the conversation: he and I are both working in the garden, and he's giving me lots of loofa sponges.

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