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Mercy without End: Toward a More Inclusive Church
These eighteen essays span more than thirty years of Lavina Fielding Anderson’s concerns about and reflections on issues of inclusiveness in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, including her own excommunication for “apostasy” in 1993, followed by twenty-five years of continued attendance at weekly LDS ward meetings. Written with a taste for irony and an eye for documentation, the essays are timeless snapshots of sometimes controversial issues, beginning with official resistance to professionally researched Mormon history in the 1980s. They underscore unanswered questions about gender equality and repeatedly call attention to areas in which the church does not live up to its better self. Compassionately and responsibly, it calls Anderson’s beloved religion back to its holiest nature.
287 pages, Paperback
Published May 19, 2020
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Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews
May 15, 2020
This book was filled with anger and pain, not just the author's, but countless others' too. Her words cut you and open a wound. For a moment you almost experience her suffering. But Lavina doesn't leave the wound untended. She fills it with faith, hope and charity. I've never felt so inspired and determined to be a better person, more compassionate, more caring, more understanding, more christlike, then when I read this book (not counting scripture). I can only hope to emulate and be half the person she is. Her faith has made me stronger and more confident.
June 28, 2020
This is a hard book. Excommunication cuts through the essays here like a knife, and is likely to create sharp divisions among readers. For those who perhaps do not know, Lavina Fielding Anderson was excommunicated in September 1993 for “apostasy,” linked to her writing. Anderson, a former editor at the Church magazine “The Ensign,” and long associated with the Mormon History Association, had published earlier that year a chronology of what she categorized as ecclesiastical abuse directed towards Church members, primarily intellectuals, scholars, and feminists.
Anderson’s book is a collection of essays and addresses, most of them from the year or two prior to her excommunication, and in the years immediately following. A few are more contemporary, written in the last few years as her appeal to have her membership in the Church restored progressed, and the denial of that appeal “at this time.”
I will admit to struggling with this book at first, knowing most of the story and its outcome. At one point in the reading, I almost regretted requesting this book to review. While I have never met Lavina in person, she edited my two first articles for The Journal of Mormon History, and we exchanged a number of emails about that process. I learned through that experience that she is an excellent editor, quick to point out the obvious errors of a first time article writer, but also quick with encouragement. She helped me learn some of the finer points of being a historian, even an amateur one. It was a tutoring process as much as an editorial one, and I learned a lot through that experience. Throughout it all, she was patient, kind, understanding, and charitable. For those reasons, I sought the opportunity to read and review this book.
What I discovered is that Anderson is every bit as talented as a writer as she is as an editor. Still, the first couple of days reading were painful. I became intimately acquainted with her sense of loss as she was “cut off” from the faith community that she had grown up in, served in, and lived for. It hurt to read about the excommunication process, and about what it was like to go back to church, sit in the same pew that she, her husband Paul, and son Christian had been sitting in for years in her home ward.
But I did what Lavina did. She persevered. She did not stay away from church. She describes that first week after her excommunication this way:
The bishop was standing at the door to the chapel. He took my hand and pulled me into a hug, smiling warmly. [Her husband] Paul was on the stand that day, leading the choir. [Her son] Christian was sitting with the deacons until after the sacrament was passed. I would have to walk alone to the third row from the front, north side, and sit there alone, at least until after the sacrament was over and the choir had sung. It was a very long walk, but it wasn’t a hard one. People kept stopping me, hugging me. When I sat down, it took me a minute to realize what I was feeling. Pride. I was so proud of my ward. They were behaving exactly as you’d hope a Christian community would behave. [p56-57]
She still remains outspoken about the same issues that she was passionate about thirty years ago, yet she has continued attending church in her ward over all these years. So I persevered, and pushed forward in reading. As I did, I found that there is incredible grace, faith, and devotion in these essays. Excommunication is always lurking, ready to cut again through the narratives, always a raw presence. But she never lets it overwhelm her or the words on the page.
As I persevered, I found numerous gems scattered throughout her writing. Some are pretty basic, such as her commitment to remain a part of the ward community where she has lived most of her adult life. “I sit in church every Sunday,” she writes. “I cannot speak or pray publicly, but I sing the hymns I love and join in the communal ‘amens’ that echo the closing words of a sermon or prayer.” [p83] “…my relationship with the Savior is in my control, where it’s always been.” [p15] “…what I want to do in my ward is to offer the testimony of presence. I want to be there---not allowed to speak from the pulpit, forbidden to teach or pray aloud, but still testifying by my presence.”
Others are the kinds of thoughts that speak to daily life as a disciple for anyone. Anderson describes how she learned to pray and what personal revelation felt like for her, how it guided her early life, and continues to do so to this day. “I discovered that Heavenly Father’s respect for free agency is so profound that there are many times the Holy Ghost cannot give us an answer because we have not yet asked the correct question.” [p25] She also offers insights into gratitude as something remarkably powerful. “By being grateful, we insure two things: that the Lord can teach us whatever we need to know for our exaltation---whatever we need to know, and some of the lessons will hurt; and he can turn any circumstance to our blessing.” [p163]
Anderson celebrates diversity by describing the natural meadow near her mountain cabin, standing waist deep in the green plants. “Slowly, I rotated in a circle, looking at what was growing within a three-foot radius. I counted twenty-three different varieties, none of them trees or shrubs, none of them flowering, all of them a different shade of green. {It] was an exhilarating revelation of how highly God values diversity even in little things…God doesn’t plant lawns. He plants meadows.” [p185]
In all of this, Anderson provides us with some hard-won experience about handling even the most difficult of circumstances. She did not want the blade of excommunication to cut her off, and so she has chosen a different narrative that helps her to maintain her faith despite her circumstances. As an editor, she truly understands the power of language to mold our self-image and paradigm of place in the world. “Let us become editors---all of us. Let us shape our daily experience so that inclusionary language becomes our common speech.” [p196]
I am reminded of the old unused round grindstone at my uncle’s farm in Idaho where I spent many childhood summers. To sharpen a tool, you had to get the heavy two-foot diameter stone spinning by cranking some pedals, and then holding the edge of the tool against the spinning stone. All the while you had to drip water on the work surface to keep too much of the tool from being worn away, and yet still giving it a keen working edge. It was a balancing act between stone, water, and tool. There is a balance here in these essays between sharpness and grace, reason and faith, authority and personal responsibility, and living a life versus just living. It’s hard work, but if you are up to the task, the fruits of the harvest can be gathered. I believe Lavina has found that balance in her life. Reading her essays gives me hope that I can find a better balance in mine.
Anderson’s book is a collection of essays and addresses, most of them from the year or two prior to her excommunication, and in the years immediately following. A few are more contemporary, written in the last few years as her appeal to have her membership in the Church restored progressed, and the denial of that appeal “at this time.”
I will admit to struggling with this book at first, knowing most of the story and its outcome. At one point in the reading, I almost regretted requesting this book to review. While I have never met Lavina in person, she edited my two first articles for The Journal of Mormon History, and we exchanged a number of emails about that process. I learned through that experience that she is an excellent editor, quick to point out the obvious errors of a first time article writer, but also quick with encouragement. She helped me learn some of the finer points of being a historian, even an amateur one. It was a tutoring process as much as an editorial one, and I learned a lot through that experience. Throughout it all, she was patient, kind, understanding, and charitable. For those reasons, I sought the opportunity to read and review this book.
What I discovered is that Anderson is every bit as talented as a writer as she is as an editor. Still, the first couple of days reading were painful. I became intimately acquainted with her sense of loss as she was “cut off” from the faith community that she had grown up in, served in, and lived for. It hurt to read about the excommunication process, and about what it was like to go back to church, sit in the same pew that she, her husband Paul, and son Christian had been sitting in for years in her home ward.
But I did what Lavina did. She persevered. She did not stay away from church. She describes that first week after her excommunication this way:
The bishop was standing at the door to the chapel. He took my hand and pulled me into a hug, smiling warmly. [Her husband] Paul was on the stand that day, leading the choir. [Her son] Christian was sitting with the deacons until after the sacrament was passed. I would have to walk alone to the third row from the front, north side, and sit there alone, at least until after the sacrament was over and the choir had sung. It was a very long walk, but it wasn’t a hard one. People kept stopping me, hugging me. When I sat down, it took me a minute to realize what I was feeling. Pride. I was so proud of my ward. They were behaving exactly as you’d hope a Christian community would behave. [p56-57]
She still remains outspoken about the same issues that she was passionate about thirty years ago, yet she has continued attending church in her ward over all these years. So I persevered, and pushed forward in reading. As I did, I found that there is incredible grace, faith, and devotion in these essays. Excommunication is always lurking, ready to cut again through the narratives, always a raw presence. But she never lets it overwhelm her or the words on the page.
As I persevered, I found numerous gems scattered throughout her writing. Some are pretty basic, such as her commitment to remain a part of the ward community where she has lived most of her adult life. “I sit in church every Sunday,” she writes. “I cannot speak or pray publicly, but I sing the hymns I love and join in the communal ‘amens’ that echo the closing words of a sermon or prayer.” [p83] “…my relationship with the Savior is in my control, where it’s always been.” [p15] “…what I want to do in my ward is to offer the testimony of presence. I want to be there---not allowed to speak from the pulpit, forbidden to teach or pray aloud, but still testifying by my presence.”
Others are the kinds of thoughts that speak to daily life as a disciple for anyone. Anderson describes how she learned to pray and what personal revelation felt like for her, how it guided her early life, and continues to do so to this day. “I discovered that Heavenly Father’s respect for free agency is so profound that there are many times the Holy Ghost cannot give us an answer because we have not yet asked the correct question.” [p25] She also offers insights into gratitude as something remarkably powerful. “By being grateful, we insure two things: that the Lord can teach us whatever we need to know for our exaltation---whatever we need to know, and some of the lessons will hurt; and he can turn any circumstance to our blessing.” [p163]
Anderson celebrates diversity by describing the natural meadow near her mountain cabin, standing waist deep in the green plants. “Slowly, I rotated in a circle, looking at what was growing within a three-foot radius. I counted twenty-three different varieties, none of them trees or shrubs, none of them flowering, all of them a different shade of green. {It] was an exhilarating revelation of how highly God values diversity even in little things…God doesn’t plant lawns. He plants meadows.” [p185]
In all of this, Anderson provides us with some hard-won experience about handling even the most difficult of circumstances. She did not want the blade of excommunication to cut her off, and so she has chosen a different narrative that helps her to maintain her faith despite her circumstances. As an editor, she truly understands the power of language to mold our self-image and paradigm of place in the world. “Let us become editors---all of us. Let us shape our daily experience so that inclusionary language becomes our common speech.” [p196]
I am reminded of the old unused round grindstone at my uncle’s farm in Idaho where I spent many childhood summers. To sharpen a tool, you had to get the heavy two-foot diameter stone spinning by cranking some pedals, and then holding the edge of the tool against the spinning stone. All the while you had to drip water on the work surface to keep too much of the tool from being worn away, and yet still giving it a keen working edge. It was a balancing act between stone, water, and tool. There is a balance here in these essays between sharpness and grace, reason and faith, authority and personal responsibility, and living a life versus just living. It’s hard work, but if you are up to the task, the fruits of the harvest can be gathered. I believe Lavina has found that balance in her life. Reading her essays gives me hope that I can find a better balance in mine.
July 22, 2020
Full disclosure: the author is my aunt, so I am not entirely impartial.
Although this book is a collection of essays, a single theme permeates the volume: We can and must do more to help people from diverse backgrounds and in diverse circumstances feel welcomed and supported at church.
Using numerous examples and stories, many from her own life, she illustrates how church culture can be exclusive in ways we may not recognize. Dress codes, nomenclature, and even acceptable forms of revelatory experience can be standardized—deliberately or implicitly—in ways that exclude people who fail to conform to cultural norms.
I loved Lavina's description of two experiences with personal revelation: deciding whether to marry my Uncle Paul (pages 25-26) and confronting troubling facts about Joseph Smith (pages 96-97). In both cases, the experience was transformative, not merely a transfer of information.
The final essay, "Circles," is an eloquent poetic meditation on the peace that can come from shared worship in the temple.
For me, the most vivid image in the book comes at the conclusion of the third essay. Lavina is attending a worship service a few months after being excommunicated from the church. The ecclesiastical leader who led the excommunication process is sitting on the stand, and Lavina's son, Christian, is offering the sacrament—the bread and water representing the body and blood of Jesus Christ—to that leader. Lavina's experience in that moment is sublime:
"For a moment, we are all suspended in holy timelessness. President Miller, Paul, Christian, the emblems of the sacrament, and I. We are all together within dedicated walls, all beloved children of God, all mortal human beings, imperfect and broken. For all of us, Christ suffered and died to bring healing and wholeness. Something hallows this moment. I feel at peace."
This book has motivated me to speak and act in ways that are more consistent with the character of Jesus Christ, who "inviteth...all to come unto him and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female...and all are alike unto God" (2 Nephi 26:33).
Although this book is a collection of essays, a single theme permeates the volume: We can and must do more to help people from diverse backgrounds and in diverse circumstances feel welcomed and supported at church.
Using numerous examples and stories, many from her own life, she illustrates how church culture can be exclusive in ways we may not recognize. Dress codes, nomenclature, and even acceptable forms of revelatory experience can be standardized—deliberately or implicitly—in ways that exclude people who fail to conform to cultural norms.
I loved Lavina's description of two experiences with personal revelation: deciding whether to marry my Uncle Paul (pages 25-26) and confronting troubling facts about Joseph Smith (pages 96-97). In both cases, the experience was transformative, not merely a transfer of information.
The final essay, "Circles," is an eloquent poetic meditation on the peace that can come from shared worship in the temple.
For me, the most vivid image in the book comes at the conclusion of the third essay. Lavina is attending a worship service a few months after being excommunicated from the church. The ecclesiastical leader who led the excommunication process is sitting on the stand, and Lavina's son, Christian, is offering the sacrament—the bread and water representing the body and blood of Jesus Christ—to that leader. Lavina's experience in that moment is sublime:
"For a moment, we are all suspended in holy timelessness. President Miller, Paul, Christian, the emblems of the sacrament, and I. We are all together within dedicated walls, all beloved children of God, all mortal human beings, imperfect and broken. For all of us, Christ suffered and died to bring healing and wholeness. Something hallows this moment. I feel at peace."
This book has motivated me to speak and act in ways that are more consistent with the character of Jesus Christ, who "inviteth...all to come unto him and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female...and all are alike unto God" (2 Nephi 26:33).
November 26, 2023
I bought this a year ago, but held off reading it because I did not know if I could handle the sheer rage it would bring up. I am so glad I read it at the moment I did.
This is a masterclass in not losing one self in a patriarchal system and following ones own internal compass, while still engaging with community with kindness. She was a wise woman and an incredible writer. Absolutely remarkable and I am sad it only has 25 reviews. I plan to shout about this masterpiece from the rooftops. My only complaint is that it did not include
more recent pieces. I would have loved to know how she felt about the last 5 years. This is hands down my best non-fiction read of the year, beating out Jane Goodall. This book exemplified the timeless truth that those who wear our scarlet letters are often the best of us. Apostate my ass.
This is a masterclass in not losing one self in a patriarchal system and following ones own internal compass, while still engaging with community with kindness. She was a wise woman and an incredible writer. Absolutely remarkable and I am sad it only has 25 reviews. I plan to shout about this masterpiece from the rooftops. My only complaint is that it did not include
more recent pieces. I would have loved to know how she felt about the last 5 years. This is hands down my best non-fiction read of the year, beating out Jane Goodall. This book exemplified the timeless truth that those who wear our scarlet letters are often the best of us. Apostate my ass.
August 4, 2020
This is a summary of Lavina Fielding Anderson's essays about the LDS Church and her relationship with it, which has been rocky. I love Lavina and her ability to forgive and move forward with her own conviction of right and wrong, good and bad. It takes a strong, spiritual person to forgive the kind of spiritual abuse she has suffered, ironically for chronically that same kind of spiritual abuse of others. If you want to be uplifted by the testimony and spiritual strength of an individual who has walked through difficult circumstances, this book will do that.
August 24, 2020
Uneven
Although she has updated these mostly 1990s talks with footnotes, these talks ARE from the 1990s. Therefore, to my mind they are mostly interesting from a historical point of view. A lot has changed in the church while a lot remains the same. There was a lot I liked about what she writes, specifically the encouragement to see our relationship to God in our own light. But there’s also an undertone of acceptance of things that I feel is almost masochistic. And that left me, in the end, feeling profoundly uncomfortable.
Although she has updated these mostly 1990s talks with footnotes, these talks ARE from the 1990s. Therefore, to my mind they are mostly interesting from a historical point of view. A lot has changed in the church while a lot remains the same. There was a lot I liked about what she writes, specifically the encouragement to see our relationship to God in our own light. But there’s also an undertone of acceptance of things that I feel is almost masochistic. And that left me, in the end, feeling profoundly uncomfortable.
December 18, 2020
I will never understand why this woman continues to be denied membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of latter-day saints. Her faith in Christ and testimony of His gospel is powerful. Her mercy and grace toward those who have done her harm is remarkable. And her insightful words encourage me to stay.
October 8, 2021
Just Wow. Essays that really affected me:
*A Testimony of Presence
*Dealing with Out Divine and Human Church
*Covenants and Contracts
*The Grammar of Inequity
My favorite was "The Only Life Your Save."
Lavina is an incredible example to me. She pushed people to live their faith intentionally, to push back, question, and remain. Her essays are just what I needed.
*A Testimony of Presence
*Dealing with Out Divine and Human Church
*Covenants and Contracts
*The Grammar of Inequity
My favorite was "The Only Life Your Save."
Lavina is an incredible example to me. She pushed people to live their faith intentionally, to push back, question, and remain. Her essays are just what I needed.
December 19, 2024
Poetic. Poignant. At times Raw. Moving.
A later-in-life discovery for me. Lavinia Anderson is among a small set of Theologically-oriented authors whose works I seek and consume with care, reflection, and wonderment.
A later-in-life discovery for me. Lavinia Anderson is among a small set of Theologically-oriented authors whose works I seek and consume with care, reflection, and wonderment.
February 22, 2021
As far as I can tell from this book, this excommunicated Mormon is way better at living the Gospel than the vast majority of non-excommunicated Mormons I know, including myself.
August 15, 2023
Two-star rating for me, but others will certainly give it more stars. Well-written essays with viewpoints I share, but they nonetheless didn't speak to me. Not sure why.
March 3, 2026
I don’t think I can fully articulate how much this book meant to me when reading it. I plan to revisit these essays over and over again. Flavina has an incredible gift of discernment.
November 29, 2024
Lavina is one of the 1993 September Six. 💔 May she rest in peace (10-29-2023) as she is finally free from 30+ years of formal exclusion from the church she loved all her life. Excommunication is spiritual violence. As is denying the sacrament to anyone as punishment. If a person is there, willing, seeking, open to Christ’s healing love and grace and mercy, why would we block them? And why do we make it a public shaming event? It is cruel. That is the hill I will die on.
From her 2003 essay called A Decade on the Thin Edge (not included in the Mercy Without End collection), a quote that means so much to me and why I personally feel drawn to Lavina and her story:
“As I think about the Church and me, the image that keeps coming to mind is that of a coin. We often think of Church membership in binary terms, like a coin flip. Heads you're in; tails you're out. ... But those aren't the only two choices. The third alternative is the coin that balances on its edge—a very narrow base, very vulnerable to toppling one way or the other. That's the space I've claimed for myself. I'm not in, but I won't be out, either. It's a balancing act every day.”
—————————
I’m so excited to mark up this collection of essays by Lavina! I found a brand new copy at a used book sale (??) at Sunstone 2024.
“We really can call down the blessings of heaven for each other.”
“I can literally feel them [prayers], like a touch on my shoulder or a kiss on my cheek.”
“The worst has happened and I’m still myself.”
“The Holy Spirit of promise seals those blessings. … The church does what the church can do; it promises, controls, and regulates the pieces of paper.”
Quoting Chieko Okazaki “Don’t leave. Don’t become inactive. You may think you are voting with your feet, that you are making a statement by leaving. You are, but your absence is welcomed and encouraged by those who don’t understand or value you. … Please stay. Please be a bridge builder.” (And my whole heart breaks.)
“The Lord wanted all of me, even the parts that the church does not currently want and cannot use.”
“We should be bound together in a supportive web of covenantal relationships that accommodate the whole person in love, respect, and trust. When these covenantal aspects are replaced by contracts which demand performance and revoke privileges for noncompliance, and in which children learn that the best way to function within the system is to lie, it permanently damages the fabric of our community.”
“If the mystery is Christ in us, then our journey is one of discovery, of learning to love ourselves, to love the questions that show us new sides of ourselves, that lead us toward the divine within ourselves and others.”
“God doesn’t plant lawns. He plants meadows.”
____________
75 Kinda-Hard Book 1
From her 2003 essay called A Decade on the Thin Edge (not included in the Mercy Without End collection), a quote that means so much to me and why I personally feel drawn to Lavina and her story:
“As I think about the Church and me, the image that keeps coming to mind is that of a coin. We often think of Church membership in binary terms, like a coin flip. Heads you're in; tails you're out. ... But those aren't the only two choices. The third alternative is the coin that balances on its edge—a very narrow base, very vulnerable to toppling one way or the other. That's the space I've claimed for myself. I'm not in, but I won't be out, either. It's a balancing act every day.”
—————————
I’m so excited to mark up this collection of essays by Lavina! I found a brand new copy at a used book sale (??) at Sunstone 2024.
“We really can call down the blessings of heaven for each other.”
“I can literally feel them [prayers], like a touch on my shoulder or a kiss on my cheek.”
“The worst has happened and I’m still myself.”
“The Holy Spirit of promise seals those blessings. … The church does what the church can do; it promises, controls, and regulates the pieces of paper.”
Quoting Chieko Okazaki “Don’t leave. Don’t become inactive. You may think you are voting with your feet, that you are making a statement by leaving. You are, but your absence is welcomed and encouraged by those who don’t understand or value you. … Please stay. Please be a bridge builder.” (And my whole heart breaks.)
“The Lord wanted all of me, even the parts that the church does not currently want and cannot use.”
“We should be bound together in a supportive web of covenantal relationships that accommodate the whole person in love, respect, and trust. When these covenantal aspects are replaced by contracts which demand performance and revoke privileges for noncompliance, and in which children learn that the best way to function within the system is to lie, it permanently damages the fabric of our community.”
“If the mystery is Christ in us, then our journey is one of discovery, of learning to love ourselves, to love the questions that show us new sides of ourselves, that lead us toward the divine within ourselves and others.”
“God doesn’t plant lawns. He plants meadows.”
____________
75 Kinda-Hard Book 1
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