I am committed to First United Methodist Church of Salt Lake City. I will help, I will give what and where and when I can. But should I join? This essay is to find an answer.

Before making a choice, consider all the reasons you can. But the reason that should outweigh all others is what the consequence of the choice will be.

Do all the good you can,
by all the means you can,
in all the ways you can,
in all the places you can,
at all the times you can,
to all the people you can,
as long as ever you can.

Rupertus Meldenius (But almost always misattributed to John Wesley)

(“Meldenius” is the pen-name for Peter Meiderlin. Peter was Lutheran. He lived and died before John Wesley was born.)

How institutions evolve and why most of them become “evil” is beyond the scope of this essay. (I'll write it all out someday.) I don't want to be a cog in any of the myriad orphan-crushing machines making the world so miserable today. So I do my best not to.

But.

I also recognize that, as an individual, I cannot compete with an institution of any size. A human will always lose a fight with a car. Depending on the car, it might not even notice that it has smashed a human. If I want to influence institutions, I have to be part of an institution that wants to do the same things I do. I believe the best one within my reach is First United Methodist of Salt Lake City.

FUMC SLC is a unique and special church. It punches far above its weight in ministry to the outside world. It never stops trying to do more good. Where it has faced setbacks, it has kept an open conversation about how to regain any ground it's lost. It is aligned with my values to such a degree that I'm willing to be part of it–an honor I extend to precious few institutions.

In 2026, the world is almost literally burning down. We are all part of it. I still drive a car sometimes, still eat meat sometimes, still use more computers than I strictly need to. I've got a standard and I need to articulate it.

• I am a “nice guy” and a “good person.” That's not enough.
• The world is a better place because I'm in it. That's not enough.
• People love me. That is still not enough.

I need to be able to see that the arc of the moral universe is bending more towards justice in a measurable way because I, as part of an institution, put my weight on it.

The consequence I hope for, by joining myself to FUMC, is to answer this call. We will leave our mark on the world, and I will have been an essential part of it.

For some of my life, this has already been true. There are four big dents in the side of the patriarchy where I spent six years taking a swing at it.

Before the Righteously Outrageous Twirling Corps of Salt Lake City (ROTC-SLC) started, there were zero performing groups in our Pride Parade. Now there are five, I think. I myself did not make that change happen; it took people with different strengths working together–an institution. We performed in the Pride parade and festival, as well as Pride celebrations in other cities (Denver, Las Vegas, Boise, and St. George). We ran for six fabulous, glorious, over-the-top years, and in that time, we changed what the Pride parade is like in a way I think people don't recognize.

There are still bar floats with go-go boys. There are still drag queens melting in the rain. There are still politicians in convertibles for whom we clap politely. The festival itself is still overrun with commercialism and rainbow-washing. But we also sing, dance, march, and speak with joined voices, in a way that we didn't before. We show up as humans in a way we didn't used to. Not “just” gays and lesbians. People, with inherent worth and dignity, across the whole SOGIESC spectrum. (Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity and Expression, and Sex Characteristics.)

Sound reinforcement in a parade context is hard. Getting enough good quality sound to travel far enough for a color guard to keep time requires lots of math and physics. I designed and built the sound system that made it possible. It can be done with a system off-the-shelf, but not on the shoestring budget we had. It's not bragging to say, they couldn't have done it without me.

I got involved with LDS Reconciliation in 2004. Once I realized my sexual orientation was not going to change, I needed a way to, well… reconcile that with my faith. Reconciliation had been around for a long time by that point, and had a well-developed set of tools for addressing that exact conflict.

In 2007 (I think?) I became President of the group. I tried a lot of different things to get the message out and expand our reach. Most of them didn't work, but I think that was okay. The people who needed us found us, and those who didn't find us needed something else.

You have to at least try not to laugh at the names of the groups, okay?

Family Homo Evening; Moho parties; Tenderballs parties; I know I'm forgetting some. These were not events I helped organize. I showed up as myself. Being there and supporting people, how they were, granting them space to change their mind, to find love for themselves and each other… this is revolutionary. For generations of young people growing up gay and Mormon, it is never going to mean what it meant for me.

The 2009 conference in Salt Lake City was the big achievement. No doubt it would have happened without me, but it would not have been what it was.

But before the conference was even confirmed, there was a lot we did to apply pressure. We made the LDS church change positions. We made such a stink, and got ourselves in the news enough, they had to move on some key issues:

1. The church adopted a worldwide policy that clergy should not advise people “experiencing same-sex attraction” to enter mixed-orientation marriages
2. The church made statements that children should not be kicked out for identifying as gay or lesbian
3. ( I'm forgetting two things)

This could not have happened without the work of many who came before me. I stood on the shoulders of giants, and built on what they'd done. Today, doing “conversion therapy” on minors is illegal in the state of Utah. I never would have expected that development, and it would not have happened if the work we did hadn't happened first. This is how institutions make the world more just: by playing a long game, applying pressure to vulnerable places, and never giving up. This is what I see FUMC SLC doing.

As such, it's been 15 years since I've been part of something I feel meets my standards for activism, and with which I can partner to amplify that work. Not for lack of trying, but living in Houston, there's not much good happening.

I feel called–I feel compelled to find a new place to work for justice, for progress, for peace, and perhaps for God. First United Methodist Church seems like the best place to make that happen.

That's the “why”. On to other considerations.

The “official” United Methodist position on receiving members of the LDS church is found in this document. It deserves its own treatment, but I'm not going to spend that many words on here. The short answer is this: Sacramental Faithfulness is not a serious document. While I did learn some things, it's basically “garbage in, garbage out.” The LDS position was deliberately misrepresented from both sides.

1. Jay Jensen, the representative of the LDS church, was not a General Authority when this conversation was had. Offices up to Bishop are permanent; once you've been a Deacon, Teacher, Priest, Elder, High Priest, or Bishop, you always have those keys. Positions above that, when you get released, you give the keys back, to be dispensed to the next office-holder. You don't keep them. “Seventy Emeritus” is not a concept that makes sense.
2. Not all of those in the UMC who were examining LDS beliefs, in my opinion, were acting in good faith.
3. Mormons and mainline Christians have always hated each other, and–deliberately or not–misrepresented each others' beliefs. I could say a lot more about this. Maybe I will later.

Even as a Mormon, though, my beliefs were unorthodox; by some standards, even heretical. I was, nevertheless, a member “in good standing” for a number of years. I was a card-carrying, ten-percent-paying, funny-underwear-wearing, secret-handshaking Mormon, and yet I believed things that would make apostles' blood boil. Despite the appearance of universal conformity, Mormons are not monolithic. and attempts by some leaders to remove it, there is now, has always been, and will always be room for differences.

Condemn no man for not thinking as you think. Let every one enjoy the full and free liberty of thinking for himself. Let every man use his own judgment, since every man must give an account of himself to God. Abhor every approach, in any kind or degree, to the spirit of persecution, if you cannot reason nor persuade a man into the truth, never attempt to force a man into it. If love will not compel him to come, leave him to God, the judge of all.

John Wesley

In essentials, unity;
in nonessentials, liberty;
in all things, charity.

Rupertus Meldenius (sometimes misattributed)

This would have been a good principle for the authors and contributors of Sacramental Faithfulness to follow. In my opinion, they did not.

The most important and controversial departure I take from Methodist tradition is that I reject the Trinity. I believe that Jesus Christ, His Father, and the Holy Spirit, are separate beings. I don't recognize the Nicene Creed as authoritative; I see it as a failed attempt to create a theology that could deify Constantine. To be blunt: I see it as blasphemy.

Methodists discern truth using the Wesleyan Quadrilateral. From my perspective, the Quadrilateral structure can support unitarian and trinitarian thinking. (Forgive the pun) Here is how I square it:

There's a long tradition of Christian scholars and theologians pointing out that the early Christian church was unitarian. They provide supporting scriptures and other documentation. They've been a small minority since Nicea. I'm comfortable being part of that small minority. I'm also comfortable being lazy and pointing at their work instead of writing my own 300-page treatise on the subject. This bit should suffice.

If you live in the 18th Century, and the substrate of your universe is the essences of things and the relationships between those essences, then yes, you can build a Trinity and it works just fine. But it is the 21st Century, and we live in a universe made of objects, which are made of particles, which are made of waves in quantum fields.

Upon this substrate, you can have a Trinity, or you can have everything else. There is no set of definitions you can choose for the verb “to be” and the adjective “the same” that allows it all to exist simultaneously. You can't add dimensions and make it possible. You can't plug it into Einstein's field equations and get a valid result. In our universe, The Trinity is inherently self-contradictory. (I could just say “the Aristotelian argument holds” but I'm indulging myself… thanks for hanging in with me.)

Jesus Christ has run the entire race: ( citation needed) He began as a non-corporeal being, got a body (kind of?) the same way we did, lived as a mortal human just like us, was transfigured, died as we all will, got himself resurrected, and is now an exalted being. Jesus' dad, on the other hand, is immutable. He started out exalted and will be in the same state of exaltation through the end of time. The Holy Spirit is also immutable, non-corporeal, and will remain so until the end of eternity.

If you're immutable, you can't make yourself mutable, change a bunch of things, and then make yourself mutable again. If you could, you weren't really immutable in the first place, were you?

My understanding does raise questions, but they have answers–all far outside the scope of this essay.

John Wesley held that the Trinity was an essential part of Christianity and denounced Unitarian belief. I think that if he saw the same things I've seen, he would come around to my point of view. I could be wrong, and that's fine too. Regardless, we agree that Jesus is the Christ, our Savior, and that his Father is the God we worship above any other. We will all find out the whole truth eventually, hug it out, and then we will go back to singing.

There had better be hugs and singing.

Scripture gets the last word. The trouble is that scripture has to be interpreted. I will always maintain that everyone has equal authority to interpret scriptures for themselves, and I exercise it here with caution.

In Old Testament times, substantial confusion arose because Jesus and His dad had to speak out of the same mouth. Even if you read the Old Testament with this in mind, I don't think you can parse out who is saying what, because the authors themselves didn't always get it right. As soon as Christ is born, however, the ambiguity is removed. Jesus speaks of both His father and the Holy Spirit in the third person. Their locations differ, their states differ, their behaviors differ, their minds differ. Their purpose does not, but that doesn't make them the same being.

(I will refrain from invoking Heidegger. To those who have read him: I'm sorry. To those who haven't: You're welcome.)

This is controversial enough, but also core enough to my beliefs, that I will not explore it fully here. I also won't bring it up in church settings. I only share details with individuals, when moved upon by the Spirit. You may ask me about it, but only if you have an open mind. If you just want to tell me I'm wrong, or hear enough of my position to invalidate it, kindly take a hike.

A thoughtful reading of Matthew 20 will do more to prepare your heart for understanding this than anything I could write. Matthew 20 takes place over the course of a day. You might try reading each section at the time of day when it happens, so you have an entire day to sit with it. Let no answer be a conclusion, since a conclusion closes the door to further answers.

God didn't build Hell, and He doesn't send people there. I do believe in Hell; actually I believe in many hells. I've been in a few. I believe they were all built by humans, and it is humans who put each other there. ( Insert “the wicked punish the wicked”)

Christ's Atonement is infinite and unlimited. His grace extends to literally everyone, eventually. The opportunity to repent and approach God does not end at death. Maybe it never ends.

( There are three graces enumerated in Methodism. I might need to address them specifically.)

Tertullian, an early Christian father, eventually left the early Christians and joined the Montanists. He did this not because he lost his faith, but because he recognized that there had been an apostasy. This is my understanding, anyway, and it's the same reason I left the church of my youth: it claims divine authority, and yet its prophets consistently make wrong predictions and even wrong observations. (What do you call a prophet that's consistently wrong? Hmm…)

Forgive me if I've extrapolated past the end of my data set, I see a consistent pattern in the scriptures:

1. God calls a prophet to accomplish a specific task
2. An authority structure forms
3. The prophet dies
4. The authority structure apostatizes almost immediately.

(Paul's lamentation about how people twist his words–“what will they say I said after I'm gone”–is endlessly amusing to me. Citation needed.) There is never a line of succession; it's never passed down from father to son. Solomon is not a counterexample to this; he had to go to God directly to get his wisdom. He did not get it from David.

Within my field of view, there are no institutions with an authentic divine mandate currently on the earth. I see no true prophets. What authority churches have, therefore, is the same authority all institutions have: that to which their members consent.

(Aside: I worry about humanity. We have severed our connections to so many divine beings. We are currently facing multiple threats that are existential in ways we haven't seen since the Flood. We could nuke ourselves back to the Stone Age (literally) in about half an hour. Climate change is likely to cause billions of deaths, could cause the collapse of human civilization, trigger nuclear war; in the most extreme case, it might make complex life on this planet impossible. I wonder if there is a connection here; we have walked away from so much divine protection, and now we're looking down the barrels of annihilation from multiple angles. As a hen gathers her chicks, God would have protected us, but we wouldn't. Citation needed.)

The whole concept of “having authority to baptize” breaks down if all the churches are apostate. Where did John the Baptist, who baptized Jesus, get his authority?

This is still an open question for me and I would genuinely like to hear ideas about it.

Write this section.

The short version: Basically, I don't see a valid reason to close the canon; I don't think the way the Bible was assembled was divine; and as long as I hold Jesus' actual words above all other scripture, I can't exclude (e.g.) the Gospel of Thomas from what I study. I won't push my canon on others, but I won't be pushed off it, either.

This whole business of whether a baptism “counts” because we do or don't believe in the “same Jesus” is stupid. How can it be a different Jesus?

Baptism is not in the name of the Trinity. READ IT. In every Christian faith I know, baptism is done in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. (Amen. Sploosh.) If you conceptualize them as the Trinity, that's your prerogative. I do not.

We're just using the same word (baptism) to talk about different things. Rejecting the baptism of another tradition is pointless. We are better served by appreciating them for what they are. Mormons should do their own baptism, as should Methodists. One does not invalidate the other, nor are they in conflict. They accomplish different sets of things–sets that overlap, but none is fully inclusive of the others.

(Well… some fully include others, apparently. Ask an expert. Make a chart of who accepts whose baptism. Then realize how ridiculous it is and laugh.)

• Does being Unitarian exclude me?
• Does being Universalist exclude me?
• Does my acceptance of other scriptures exclude me?
• Does my participation dilute the church's culture in a deleterious way?

Now that all the reasons and open questions are on the table, I want to return to the most important consideration: What will the consequences be?

• There are good reasons for me to have special access to church facilities (e.g., letting myself into the building for organ practice.) Having that access despite being a non-member makes me uncomfortable.
• Being a member lets me participate in the committees of the church, and my voice has weight.
• Most importantly, I become part of an institution that represents my values. My actions can have consequences that impact the world in a way they never can if I stand alone.

Thank you for coming with me on this walk. I hope it's been clear, thought-provoking, and perhaps even enlightening. I am open to any good-faith discussion about what I've presented. I genuinely hope that I may join your ranks and that, together, we can bring God's kingdom meaningfully closer.

Your brother in Christ, David Nielson

(PS - Generative AI was not used in any part of writing this essay.)