So hey, everybody, welcome to today’s episode of Living Beyond the Shadow of Doubt. It feels a bit miraculous, but also just fantastic and spectacular to have Charlie Bird with me here today. Welcome, Charlie.
Thank you. I’m super happy to be here.
I’m very happy that you were able to be here. This has been a little bit in coming, so thank you for making time out of your schedule.
If you’ve been listening to my podcast you know that I’ve been talking about faith journeys and how each one of them is as unique as the individual that is experiencing it, and no two are alike. And it’s meant to be that way—very sacred and very personal. Last year I started to feel kind of heavy, because sometimes the journey brings up really tough stuff. So in 2025 I decided I still want to cover the hard parts, but I also want to highlight the joy and the life that comes after someone claims their “spiritual sovereignty,” steps into their own inner authority, and lives their faith in a way that truly aligns with them. I believe so many people would benefit from that.
I love that term “spiritual sovereignty”—did you make that up?
Maybe—it’s a mash‑up of all the podcasts and books and conversations that have inspired me!
Because I truly believe we’re all sovereigns, and I’ve found so much peace and joy claiming my own. I’m really excited to hear from you how you’ve done that—how you’ve chosen to put yourself out there so bravely, and how it’s brought you true peace.
Talk about it—what would you like to know?
I don’t know that you need much of an intro—most people know you were Cosmo the Cougar, you went to BYU, you earned your master’s, you’re a counselor, and you and Ryan have been married for a year and a half now.
We still feel like newlyweds.
I love that. But maybe a little less known is your origin story. Tell us about growing up and what shaped you.
I grew up in southwest Missouri, a small town called Willard. My dad was a cattle rancher and my mom was a stay‑at‑home mom. We lived in a big old farmhouse with acres and old barns, and I spent my childhood jumping on hay bales, making “potions” in the dirt, and rescuing animals—squirrels, baby deer, even a coyote for a while. We were deeply rooted in the Church—my grandparents had pioneer ancestry, and our tiny ward made for a tight community. We’d drive forty‑five minutes just to visit someone in our ward.
That sounds idyllic—until it wasn’t.
Around age thirteen, everything changed. Huge financial hardships—bankruptcy, eviction, lost cars. My parents separated; my dad left the Church. In months, my whole world—home, family, faith—was upended. My two younger siblings and I suddenly had adult responsibilities. It was hard, but it forced me to start asking, “What do I really believe?”
How did you navigate your faith through that?
I got introduced early to tough church history topics and anti‑Mormon rhetoric. I asked questions—went to seminary, read scriptures and Church leaders’ writings—to anchor myself in what felt powerful and true. But I also carried shame about being gay in rural Missouri and in the Church. I compartmentalized everything to cope.
When did that compartmentalization break?
During my mission. I expected to come home straight—but I didn’t. I even dated someone I loved, hoping it would “fix” me. When things got serious, my whole world shattered—I realized I had to start from scratch again. It was devastating: shame, depression, even suicidal thoughts exploded.
That’s so much for a teenager.
It was overwhelming. But later, in Washington, D.C., I worked with wonderful LGBTQ+ colleagues who were just normal, good people. It felt like discovering a “lost tribe.” I remembered—“If any of you lack wisdom, ask of God”—so I prayed in the temple and felt a powerful love and acceptance wash over me. For the first time, I felt redemption and forgiveness applied to the part of me I’d buried. It was like a chemical reaction that changed me.
That moment must have been life‑changing.
It was. I knew I couldn’t hide anymore. But it didn’t make the storm calm—it gave me purpose to keep moving through it. I found myself building community, setting boundaries, managing my internal dialogue—those became my muscles.
And community has been key ever since.
Exactly. That purpose drew other people who’d changed too, and we built a supportive network.
Tell us about the beautiful way your ward made room for you and Ryan.
We wanted to live near his parents but couldn’t afford it. A relative texted the ward, asking if anyone could help. A neighbor—who didn’t know us—felt prompted to open her upstairs as an apartment. Within hours, she had contractors making space for us. We barely knew our bishop or stake president, but we knew God had set that next “glass step” for us to walk on. We’re still floating on it, trusting each next step.
What would you say to ecclesiastical leaders hearing this?
Sit down, listen, ask “What do you need?” Lead with grace and a desire to share Christ’s blessings—not punishment. Handbooks are vital, but add Jesus. Create a dialogue: share your uncertainties and ask theirs. Then watch love—and community—grow.
How has joy shown up for you?
My husband. He and I share everything—prom memories, pop‑culture, music, values, and our faith. I thought I’d have to sacrifice so much to be with someone who “got” me, but we found each other. Sharing every little joy makes the hard days worth it.
And finally—what does “living beyond the shadow of doubt” mean to you?
It doesn’t mean living without doubt; it means looking toward the light anyway. Doubt and faith are two sides of the same coin. Sit through the doubt; it will pass, and you’ll find purpose and hope in the faith.
Quick picks:
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Favorite book? The Alchemist
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Introvert or extrovert? Extrovert
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Favorite artist? Taylor Swift (and painter Paul)
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Night owl or morning lark? Night owl
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Still water or soda? Still water
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Celebrity crush? My husband (as a kid: Aladdin’s dad!)
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Furthest place traveled? Istanbul (layover in Moscow)
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Connect with me: Instagram @mr_charliebird or the All Out in the Open podcast.
Thank you, Charlie—this has been a beautiful conversation. Blessings, love, and light to you both!