Your experience illustrates a problem I’ve encountered over and over at church, the idea that all of our personal answers and revelations are generalizable, and that other people who seem to have problems we’ve resolved for ourselves are less developed versions of us who simply need a few of our answers to get up to snuff. (I’ve lost track of the number of people who’ve hastened to reveal to me the meaning of my infertility, as revealed to their sister-in-law’s cousin in a faith-promoting rumor–for example, that I still need time to get used to marriage, or that God wants me to adopt, or that I simply need to decide how badly I want children. I persist in the evidently radical belief that if God has reasons for my infertility, He’ll reveal them to me.)

Although the old Missionary Guide was, to put it mildly, not my favorite reading ever, it did have one great example that’s stuck with me through the years (don’t pass out, Ziff ;>). I can’t remember the details, and my only copy is in Italian and buried in my closet with my other missionary stuff, but it was in the Resolving Concerns section, an analogy about putting your eyeglasses on someone else to make them see clearly. If someone already has the answers ready to shove at you and is convinced that because they’ve worked for her they must work for you, how can you even begin to articulate your questions? I absolutely believe in personal revelation, but I’ve often thought we don’t adequately respect the personal nature of our answers, which come to us in our own language (Doctrine and Covenants 90:11) and, I think, tempered to our very individual circumstances and needs. I also think the personal communication we receive from God, like more general revelation for the church, is part of an ongoing dialogue, an unfolding, a conversation. Although of course our insights can help each other, ultimately we remain responsible for our own seeking and our own revelation. It’s far too tempting to freeze-frame our answers and push them on others as a way to get them to stop asking uncomfortable questions. I shudder to think how glibly I’ve done this at times, how I’ve rushed over someone’s problems, verbally yanking them toward what seems to me the obvious and easy solution.

And as a culture we seem to feel entitled to say the strangest things about others’ intellectual/doctrinal/emotional issues, things we would never say about other trials. If someone struggles with her testimony or express doubt about some aspect of the church, we often rush to observe that we ourselves have never doubted and always had a testimony. By contrast, if someone said that her child had died, would we quickly point out to her that we ourselves have never lost any children? I’ve long thought it’s significant that in the baptismal covenant in Mosiah 18:9, we promise first “to mourn with those that mourn,” and then “to comfort those that stand in need of comfort.” I’m persuaded that the order is significant. We don’t earn the right to comfort someone until we have mourned with him. It’s too easy to fall into the complacent role of Job’s comforters, offering an easy received wisdom that preserves our own unthinking preconceptions to those in the depths of sorrow. I think that like Christ, whose atonement is our example, we earn both the right and the power to comfort by being willing to enter into the sorrows of others. And that requires time, an open heart, and a willingness to set aside the discomfort others’ sorrows may evoke in us.

When I think of the rare people I’ve met who’ve offered me that open, considerate heart and who have been willing to hear my sorrows, I want to learn to be one of them.

This was more or less my visiting teacher’s tack; she cornered me after Relief Society obviously in a mood to pick a fight (I certainly don’t claim to be innocent in the situation! I’ve picked several fights myself, so I probably deserved it) and explained, in essence, that she had no problem with the church, therefore neither did I. How does one counter this line of thought? I’m glad other people are at peace with their church membership. I’m not. I can’t seriously think about the church without crying.

In any case, she told me my problem was just that I thought I was deeper than everyone else. I left crying, we never spoke again, and I haven’t seen a visiting teacher/teachee since. I think at this point the church and I are hazardous to each other’s health and need to be kept apart.

As I’ve thought more about why so many VTing experiences have left a bad taste in my mouth, I realize that a lot of my distaste has to do with advice, autonomy, and personal boundaries. I don’t like it when near-strangers give me unsolicited advice. I don’t feel they’ve earned the right, and I tend to be fiercely protective of my autonomy. I bristle, partly at the assumption that they can advise me based on so little acquaintance with me and my circumstances. But it’s important for me to remember that not everyone is like I am. Maybe other people who had my VTers loved being “mothered” and advised and craved it. The situation actually reminds me of culture clashes between Italians and American sisters I encountered on my mission. Some Italian sisters expressed caring by what some American sisters (including me!) instinctively perceived as bossiness. I had to take a deep breath at times and do some mental cultural translation–telling me what to eat means they care.

I’ve occasionally thought that we need better communication among VTers and VTees about what they’d like. As a VTer, I always wonder–do you want me to stay ten minutes and then get out of your way, or do you crave an hour or two of conversation? Do you want the spiritual message, or not? This stuff is all so implicit that it’s hard to guess at.

My reasons for not wanting to be a part of VT are similar to those already voiced, but I would add that I want those who would be spending time with me, to spend their time elswhere, with indiviuals who not only perhaps “need” their time more, but who would appreciate and benefit from their time more.

also, if I’m off the roll, why would that be burdening other women in RS more? I shouldn’t affect the equation becuase I shouldn’t be in the equation.

I could dance all over the church!

However, good for you for giving it up. And even better for you for not feeling real guilt about it.

A gold star for you forehead.