Mountains and Mormons: Part One of My Conversion/Back Story

Authors Note: I am well aware members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints have been asked to use the full name of the Church when we are speaking about it. In this blog entry, more often than not, I don't do that. This is a stylistic choice. Most people who are outside of or are just learning about the Church usually use nicknames such as "Mormon" or "LDS." So, for the sake of continuity, this is what I did. I have said my peace.

When I was 17, my mother died of a drug and alcohol overdose. My mother had sole custody of me, and my father rarely came to visit. So when I went to live with my dad and step-mom, who I will call Franklin and Carol, things were a bit… complicated. I was a confused teenager dealing with the loss of a parent along with other trauma collected along the way. Franklin and Carol were dealing with a troubled teen who had unexpectedly been dropped on their doorstep. I was often emotional and prone to behavioral outbursts. They felt I needed tough love and had little tolerance for my behavior. Nevertheless, I loved them and they me. From here I would attain the roll of both beloved daughter and eternal black sheep.

A few years later Franklin, Carol, and I would move to California. We would also bring with us two of my step-sisters, Cindi and Miriam, and their families. I thought that this would be a grand adventure.

When we first arrived in California, I was in a “beloved daughter” stage with my family. I lived with my parents and, for a period of time, we more or less got along. That was until I had an episode of mental illness. Then I went back to being the “black sheep” and was dropped off at a homeless shelter. From here I would find my way into a series of group homes and some very traumatic events. When my family invited me to move with them again, I was more than happy to go. So on a sunny July fourth, I found myself in a moving van headed for Utah.

That day, I pictured a scene in my mind from my teenage years. I remembered looking at a map of the United States. For some reason, the state of Utah caught my attention. I laughed aloud, “I’m never going there,” I said. After all, who wants to go to Utah? Half of it’s mountains, the other half is Mormons. Guess I was wrong.

In Utah, I was finally able to become independent. It took some time, but I was able to get my own apartment and start making more of my own decisions. And one of the things I decided on was I would never be one of those “Mormons.” Other people could be whatever religion they wanted, but I would just stick to what I had always known.

At the time I was a non-denominational Christian. I had been to several different churches in my life. Everything from Catholic to Pentecostal. From my point of view, every Christian church worshiped the same God and had the same bible, so whichever one I went to made no difference to me.

After being on my own for about a year, I would meet a man who I will call Clay. We started dating shortly after we met. It was during this time that I would learn that Clay was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Though Clay was quirky to say the least, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. And his parents, who we will call Iris and Eric, were some of the nicest people I had ever met. Sometimes the LDS church would come up in conversation, and I felt a duty to go along with it. I found some of what I heard interesting, but it didn’t compel me to join.

It wasn’t until things started to get serious between Clay and I that I first considered joining the LDS church. I still wasn’t swayed by any doctrine and still held the belief that all churches were pretty much the same. It just felt things might go more smoothly if I did.

Around this same time, my parents started investigating the Mormon church. Carol had received a copy of the Book of Mormon and within two days she finished it. “Did you know that the missionaries pay for their missions themselves,” she asked me one day. I found myself intrigued by her response to the Church. It turned out that a pair of missionaries was coming over to teach a lesson. Setting my cup of coffee aside, I decided that I would sit in on the conversation.

The missionaries looked like a couple of nice young men, wearing neat ties and name badges. After some brief pleasantries, they began their lesson.

“Before we came to Earth, we lived as spirits with Heavenly Father.” This seemed okay. No one had ever out and out told me this before, but I think I had always assumed it. After all, we had to come from somewhere, didn’t we?

“We came to this Earth to prove our faithfulness to Heavenly Father and see if we would follow his commandments. But we would sometimes fall short of keeping them. Since Heavenly Father knew that we would sin, he sent his son, Jesus Christ to die for the sins of the world and offer us salvation.”

Okay, makes sense, I thought. The whole idea behind Christianity is to believe in God and accept Christ as our Savior.

As I continued to listen, I saw that most of what they were saying wasn’t at odds with what I had been taught before. If anything, what I heard seemed to complement and complete things I had already learned. But there was one big difference – I could feel the Holy Ghost so strongly while the young men spoke. Though I wasn’t completely convinced, I was willing to learn more.

When Iris and Eric found this out, they were a little too eager to give me a Book of Mormon. I was both impressed with their faith and intimidated by their fervor. “This is all well and good,” I said after they had all but cornered me with their enthusiasm, “But it's not helping me,” I told them. “It’s making me feel pressured.” After that, they toned it down a bit after that and turned things over to the missionaries.

The missionaries encouraged me to read the Book of Mormon, and found it foreign and familiar at the same time. It used the same language as the bible and taught many of the same truths. But some things were new and different. As I read about how Christ visited people in the Americas after his resurrection, it seemed reasonable to me. Why wouldn’t Jesus want to visit God’s children throughout the world? He had just given his life for them. It just made sense.

During their next visit, the missionaries spoke about modern prophets. It was something I would have never considered before. In my mind, prophets had just been around to preach about Jesus’ birth. Why would we need them now? Then one of the missionaries started talking about Joseph Smith.

“Joseph Smith was called as a prophet of God to restore the true church to the Earth,” they began. “He translated the Book of Mormon by the gift and power of God.”

As they said this, the feeling of the Spirit was almost overpowering and I knew there had to be something to it. But my mind wasn’t quite made up.

After the lesson was over the missionaries asked me a question. “What do you think about prophets after what you have learned? Do you believe in them?”

The idea of a modern prophet didn’t necessarily sound impossible, but it was still strange to me. I would have to think about it.

I answered them honestly, “I think I could.”

The missionary I spoke to looked at his companion and smiled like he had just won the lottery.

What I had been taught that day stuck with me. It rattled around in my mind to the point that I couldn't think about much else. I knew I had to make a decision. Much of what I had been taught was already in the bible. And a lot more of it seemed reasonable. But what about modern prophets? It still seemed odd. But I could still remember the feeling of the Spirit in that room. It was as if the Holy Ghost had tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hey. Listen. This is the truth.” It was a fact I couldn’t ignore any longer. If I trusted in the Spirit, which I knew I did, then it must be true. With this in mind, there was only one thing I could do – believe it. Shortly after that, I set a date to be baptized.

But this would only be the first chapter of my conversion to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As time would go on, I would face challenges in my faith and for a time, I set it aside. But changes in my life would lead me to find it again.