That probably sounds weird. I’m not suicidal. I love my life as a grad student with an awesome husband that I’ve been sealed to. I just don’t want to live forever.

As a convert I’ve had a hard time adjusting from the idea of heaven as a place of rest and happiness where we praise God for eternity to a place of great work where we may experience great heartache and sorrow. I honestly have zero desire to have billions of spirit babies and rule and reign over another planet. “Eternal increase” doesn’t motivate me in the least. I know Mormons say that the Christian idea of sitting on a cloud playing a harp would get boring, but in a place without time, or at least a radically different conception of time, I don’t think boredom as we know it could exist.

In some ways the terrestrial kingdom does sound more like heaven to me. But while I do not wish to have my own world, what keeps me motivated is the idea of being with husband for eternity. I am willing to do almost anything for that possibility. So to return to the initial question, I think we can helps alleviate converts’ concerns by finding the aspects of the CK that will appeal to them. My husband did this for me by telling me we wouldn’t have to rule over a world if we didn’t want to, and that it simply meant we’d always be together and could progress in light and truth and knowledge.

A tiered heaven only leads to tierd problems and perhaps it is a letdown for investigators to invest time into a belief that may in the end not give them the hope they are looking for- not that there may be a better alternative out there.

When I left the church, I did so still believing in the LDS concept of heaven (degrees of glory) but recognizing that I really didn’t desire the promises and possibilities of the celestial.

This was difficult for my friends/family to understand. As humans we’re naturally ethnocentric. It’s difficult to comprehend that what seems like heaven to us wouldn’t seem like heaven to everyone else. But the truth is, part of what makes us US is our diversity. We each have our own unique set of values and desires. LDS theology accounts for that, with a variable reward system appropriate to each individual. Yet, to the degree that LDS culture must needs be perpetuated by ethnocentricity and a shared desire for celestial glory, members will continue to struggle to comprehend that human desire might really be so variable.

yup, that was me – and still is even after 10 years as a member lol. and as I recall, the missionaries didn`t really have an answer for me when I said I didn`t want to spend time and all enternity with “d”h

We decided that their belief systems are pretty accurate within their scope. Their idea of “Heaven” or “salvation” is that they will be able to live forever in peace, resting from the hurdles and problems of this life, free from the physical pains and limitations of the mortal body, being able to enjoy the company of God (Jesus Christ). One could conflate this view of salvation with the Terrestial Kingdom. Even if these people were to reject repeatedly the gospel, and not get baptized, most of them would still, provided they strived to keep the commandments and live good lives, achieve their very own vision of salvation, our vision of the Terrestial Kingdom.

We then furthered our conversation with the endless possibilities (and with our endless speculation of course) of what attaining eternal life in the Celestial Kingdom would be like. Some of the things we include about this mysterious place include class divisions. Those who did not marry will not be the same as those who married for time and eternity. Those who married will become gods, but those who didn’t are ministering angels. Some have suggested that in a nutshell, happily married gods will rule over single servants. How this can possibly translate into happiness for these “servants” is something that baffles me.

There is the possibility that as gods, those who married will experience the same things God experiences, including pain, suffering, the loss of some of their children, witnessing how their children treat each other, destroy each other, demean each other and the opposites (love each other, help each other, build each other up) as they journey through their experience of probation.

If the experience as a whole would be a painting, it would be a chiaroscuro. Areas of dense and unforgiving darkness highly contrasted with areas where the light reveals exquisite beauty.

Yet to some of us, especially right after a punishing stride of scarring experiences in life, peace is all we can hope for and for some others, all that is needed.