I recently watched Wicked, and one scene struck me with a force I didn’t expect. Elphaba, standing face-to-face with the Wizard, declares, “You have no real power.” That moment felt like a mirror of my own journey out of the Mormon Church—one of the hardest, most transformative experiences of my life.

Like Elphaba, I once believed in a powerful authority figure, a system that claimed to hold all the answers. I was taught that the church was the ultimate source of truth, integrity, and guidance. And I believed it. Deeply. But when I started uncovering the church’s history, its hidden complexities, and the gaps between public teachings and private realities, it felt like pulling back the curtain on a great and powerful Wizard, only to find an ordinary man with no real power at all.

“You’ve Got to Give the People What They Want”

This quote from the Wizard hit home. The church thrived by fulfilling a perceived need or desire, even if it meant offering comforting illusions rather than hard truths. The church gave me a clear path, a sense of belonging, and a purpose. But was it giving me truth, or just what it wanted me to hear? I’ve noticed a recent pattern of the church making quiet changes that seem more aligned with what the “people want.” I always believed the church was led by God and would follow His will, but now I question whether these shifts are truly divine guidance or simply a response to the desires of the people for the benefit of the institution.

“Follow the Road, It’s Gonna Lead You Right… to Me”

The Wizard’s words about following the road echo the idea of prescribed paths—narratives designed to reinforce loyalty. I was told that the road to truth, happiness, and salvation led through the church. But that path wasn’t about personal growth or discovery; it was about control. Leaving that road was terrifying, but necessary.

“The Best Way to Bring Folks Together Is to Give Them a Real Good Enemy”

This one, also by the Wizard, stung. How often does religion create an “us vs. them” mentality to solidify loyalty? In the church, there were clear lines: believers and non-believers, faithful and doubters. Questioning the narrative meant risking being labeled an enemy. I wasn’t “wicked,” but I was treated as dangerous because I dared to ask questions.

“Where I Come From, We Believe All Sorts of Things That Aren’t True. We Call It History.”

This line by the Wizard, hit the hardest. Much of what I believed was based on a version of history presented as infallible. Discovering discrepancies between the church’s teachings and documented history shook me to my core. It felt like the ground I stood on had crumbled. But that collapse led to freedom—the freedom to seek real truth, not a curated, correlated  version.

“Everyone Deserves the Chance to Fly”

Elphaba’s realization—that everyone deserves the chance to break free and soar—resonates deeply. Leaving the church wasn’t about rejecting faith; it was about embracing the truth, even when it meant heartbreak, isolation, and loss. I now know that the real power lies not in what others tell me to believe, but in having the courage to seek my own path.

“Elphie, Listen to Me, Just Say You’re Sorry”

At one point, Elphaba faces Glinda saying:
“Elphie, listen to me, just say you’re sorry. You can still be with the Wizard. What you’ve worked and waited for, You can have all you ever wanted.”

How often did I feel this in my own journey? There was always a way to stay—just say the right things, conform, and ignore the questions. The promise of acceptance, belonging, and the life I thought I wanted was right there. But like Elphaba, I reached a point where I realized:
“I know… But I don’t want it. No, I can’t want it anymore.”

That moment of clarity is both heartbreaking and liberating. I couldn’t keep wanting something that required me to believe regardless of the facts and truth I was discovering. I wanted it to be true, it would be easier if it were.

“Something Has Changed Within Me”

There’s a moment in Wicked when Elphaba sings:
“Something has changed within me, Something is not the same. I’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game.”

This perfectly captures the turning point in my own journey. I felt something shift inside—an awakening that couldn’t be ignored. The rules I had lived by, the beliefs I had held so tightly, no longer felt like my own. They were someone else’s game, and I was done playing it.

“Too Late for Second-Guessing, Too Late to Go Back to Sleep”

Leaving the church wasn’t an easy decision. There were so many moments of second-guessing, wondering if I could just go back to the way things were. But once I saw the truth, there was no unseeing it. Trusting my instincts and taking that leap into the unknown was terrifying—but it was the only way to honor the truth I had discovered.

“I’m Through Accepting Limits”

Elphaba’s words resonate with a truth I’ve come to know deeply:
“I’m through accepting limits, ‘Cause someone says they’re so.”

For so long, I accepted the limits placed on me by the church—rules about what I should believe, what I should wear, how I should live, and who I should be. I didn’t question them because I was told they were absolute. But whose limits were they? Who decided what was “true” and what wasn’t? Once I started asking those questions, I realized I couldn’t accept someone else’s boundaries anymore.

“Defying Gravity”

Deconstructing my faith, much like Elphaba’s journey, has been both painful and liberating. Leaving the Mormon Church wasn’t about rejecting faith but reclaiming my right to choose my own beliefs and live authentically. It’s been a path of questioning, confronting uncomfortable truths, and trusting my instincts.

As Elphaba declares in Wicked, “And nobody in all of Oz, No wizard that there is or was,
Is ever gonna bring me down.”  In the same way, I am through accepting the limits imposed by an institution or belief system. Though it came at a cost—loss, judgment, and heartache—I now realize that true power lies in embracing my authenticity, not in conforming to imposed narratives. Like Elphaba, I am ready to fly in my own direction, trusting the freedom to seek my own truth, and free from the weight of imposed expectations.