Why I Never Say Yes to a Calling in the Bishop’s Office

I always believed that a person should never turn down a calling. I believed in that principle with my whole heart. I held callings that I hated, or that I really struggled to magnify. I went on a mission when I was told to in a priesthood blessing, even though I was engaged to be married at the time. The Lord called me. And I was willing to answer.

I have been blessed by living this way. I’ve learned, stretched, and grown.

But then I was called as the second counselor in the primary presidency. And I have never accepted a calling in the bishop's office since.

Nine years ago, I adopted a baby boy after 8 years of infertility. He was the single greatest blessing of my life. He changed us from a couple, into a family. He transformed me from a wife, to a mother. It was amazing.

When he was 2 years old, we got an email from his birth mother. She was pregnant a second time. I was going to adopt my son’s brother. We were thrilled.

While we were waiting, I was called into the primary presidency. There wasn’t much direction on what I was supposed to do. I’m not entirely sure the president knew either. It was stressful to always feel a bit lost, and a bit behind. But I could handle it. I gave it what I could.

Then our second son was born. We stayed with him and his birth mother for three days in the hospital, and we were given custody. That’s when things went sideways.

According to Colorado law, parental custody is supposed to be severed within 3 days of placing a child for adoption. Meaning the birth parents have 3 days to change their minds. In Colorado, the birth father has to sign paperwork stating that he was notified of how to retain custody of his child and he is choosing not to do so. With our first son, it took the birth father six weeks to sign the paperwork. It was a long and stressful six weeks. I spent 24 hours a day falling in love with a child, knowing that at any moment, I might get a knock on the door telling me that they’ve come for him and I have to say goodbye. Now.

Our second son’s birth father had good reason to avoid contact with public officials. He spent nine months dodging every representative the court sent, all the while sending threatening messages to the birth mother insisting that she keep the baby. For nine months of my second child’s life, we did not know if we would be able to keep him. Day in, day out, all night long, we had to figure out how to love him completely, while knowing he might be just one knock on the door away from being gone. It was the most stressful nine months of my life.

My hair started falling out. I was so sleep deprived from my own anxiety, and a baby who wouldn’t sleep that I started hallucinating in daylight. I was not ok. My family was not ok. My church calling was one thing in my life too many.

My husband and I talked. We both knew something had to give. But I couldn’t make myself step out of my calling. The Lord had called me to that position for a reason. I trusted my bishop. I trusted my primary president. They had both gotten revelation on my behalf. Then my husband asked me, what about my revelation? Had I asked God what to do?

I hadn’t.

I got down on my knees and prayed. My answer was clear. Quit your calling.

It took me almost a month before I gathered the courage to do the thing I'd spent my life knowing was the worst thing a good Mormon could do. I talked to the bishop and I resigned my calling. The moment I did, a weight was lifted. I felt the strain of carrying too much melt away. The Lord had taken my burden, and He was not mad at me.

This experience has changed the way that I interact with callings in the church. That primary presidency calling is the only one that I have ever said no to or quit. I still believe in the authority of church leadership to call people to positions in the church. When we are called, the Lord fills the gaps, lifts us up, and teaches us. 

For me, that calling held a surprising lesson. The lesson, was that I was allowed to council with the Lord, for my own benefit. The day I prayed and asked God what he would have me do, I moved far outside my comfort zone, and learned that there is a gulf of distance between blind obedience, to active participation with the Lord. I gave up obedience in favor of enacting my agency.

We are a church of revelation. The prophet speaks for the church, the bishops for the wards, the parents for the families. I believe this is a divinely ordained pattern and it’s important. We should sustain those who have a stewardship over us. But our Heavenly Parents are amazing parents who are interested not only in our ability to follow, but also our ability to make choices, and therefore someday lead. We’ve each been given personal revelation to help maintain that balance.

Receiving a calling is an opportunity for a member to practice receiving revelation on their own behalf. It’s an opportunity to make a choice deliberately. With a confirmation from the Holy Ghost, a person can enter a calling with the comfort of knowing that they talked to God, and God approves.

At BYU, it’s a thing that certain returned missionaries will approach a girl and inform her that the Lord has told him they should marry. I knew girls it happened to. The scary thing, is when a girl decides that he has the priesthood so he must know, and she jumps in without seeking revelation of her own.

I now look at church callings in the same way. When the bishop tells me he’d like to extend a calling, I thank him. I tell him I’ll let him know. Then I go home, and commune with my Father to get my own answer. Because ‘in the mouth of two or three witnesses, shall every word be established’.

Now, when I am given a calling, I see it as an invitation to council with the Lord. He knows what I need. He knows what will make me grow. He wants me to be an active participant in the decision making process of my own life. The difference has been amazing. My testimony of service has grown. My ability to navigate decisions in my own life has grown. I no longer enter callings feeling like I'm about to do something I have no choice but to do. Even if I have given a few bishops a heart attack with, "I don't know yet. Let me pray about it. I'll let you know in a week."

And because he once told me to say no, I know I can trust him again.

The 5 Wise Virgins Are My New Best Friends

The other day on Facebook, a young Mormon mother asked a question. She has multiple special needs children. She volunteers in two callings of the church. She's striving to do her best for her family, and her community, like any good Mormon wife and mother. She wanted to volunteer for even more. Her husband wanted her to slow down. She asked for opinions. 

My answer was that the scriptures command us not to run faster than we have strength. If she’s caring for her own needs, maybe she can fit in just one more thing. If not, maybe it’s time to slow down. 

But slowing down is very, very hard for Mormon women. So is taking the time to care for our own needs. We are encouraged to give, serve, support, and 'lose ourselves' in the work. But 'losing yourself' can be toxic. I don’t believe losing our identity could be what the Lord expects of his daughters. Nor could giving up our hopes, dreams, and aspirations. But that's often how we interpret the phrase. Which makes me wonder, why give a woman a 'self' at all if she's intended to neglect herself all her life? I don't think 'losing yourself' really means, what we think it means. 

After her question, I kept thinking. I remembered the parable of the 10 virgins. It occurred to me, the 10 virgins is one of the only scriptural examples we have of women, acting for themselves. In nearly every scriptural account of women, women act for the benefit of children, husband, and community. The 10 virgins is the only story I can think of where women act exclusively for their own benefit. They weren’t there for children, husbands, or charity. They were there because they were invited to feast with the Lord.

All ten women started that night with oil in their lamps. Five, were hoping to get by on what they had. Maybe they hadn’t planned ahead. Maybe they had given their extra oil to someone else. Maybe they’d been too busy. We don’t know. Any of those explanations is plausible. What we do know, is that they didn’t bring reserves.

The other five women saw that their upcoming physical needs were met. When their vessels ran low, they used the extra to fill their lamps, and keep their light burning. They had taken time, and made the effort to care for their own physical needs. They didn’t give away their oil to let someone else attend the feast. And they have NEVER been portrayed as selfish because they said no. They are portrayed as wise.

We see the 10 virgins as a parable about spiritual or emergency preparedness. But what if it’s quite literally about our own physical, and mental welfare as well? What if it’s permission to say no? Women have needs that go overlooked in the care of home and family. But what if a woman’s value to the Lord isn’t dependent on how clean her baseboards are? Or how early her children learned to read? Or even how much service she gives to ‘earn’ her Father’s love?

What if a woman’s value to the Lord is entirely dependent on the fact that she has been invited to the feast?

A woman matters because she is ‘someone’. Not someone’s mother, or sister, or wife. She matters because she exists, and we should not be expected to lose our identities in service. I think the parable of the 10 virgins has been hiding in plain sight, trying to teach us that very principle.

When the prophets say we should ‘lose’ ourselves in the work, I think we misunderstand. I don’t think we are supposed to give more than we have. I think what the prophets mean is that we should ‘get caught up’ in the work. We can love the service we give, and still find time to care for ourselves as well. We are allowed to be a priority in our own lives. Our needs matter as much as anyone else’s.

We should take a lesson from the 5 wise virgins. Sometimes, it’s not selfish to say no. It’s wise. It’s prudent. It’s ok to put your own needs first, when putting someone else’s needs ahead of your own would be personally detrimental.

I’m not saying don’t serve. But I do believe women have the right to put themselves at the top of their own ‘people I need to care for’ list. Once you do that, service becomes easier. The burden becomes lighter. You can choose to serve because you want to. Because you have something to give. Not because you have to, if you’re going to continue to be ‘nice’.  

Women were given agency, the same as men. We have the right to use it. We have the right to want things. We have the right to care for ourselves physically, and mentally, as well as spiritually. 

Finding that balance between self-care and service sounds like maturity to me.