tout nouveau, tout beau: Finding Truth.

Today marks the fourth anniversary of my baptism. In honor of this important event in my life, I have decided to tell about why I decided to be baptized in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, in hopes that it will further understanding for my family and loved ones who may find it odd or difficult. Enjoy!

There comes a time in everyone’s lives when you have to make a choice so big it will influence the outcome of the rest of your life. In this world, you can only stay complacent so long before you have to pick a side based on what you know. For me, that choice came when I was 19 years old.

I was in my first year of college, and I was struggling with finding my place in the world and some family issues. I was attending a small Presbyterian university, thinking I wanted to switch my major for the sixth time, and looking for a church to belong to. But really, that’s not where the story begins.

It begins with a thousand tiny moments, dotting my childhood and my awkward years. It started with my mother telling me that when I’m scared of the dark at night, I can pray and Christ will take away the fear. It started with a sister who was fiery, passionate and intelligent, and she went on mission trips to spread the Gospel. It started with my brother praying with me in his room. It started with a choir director who taught me why the Gospel is worth singing about. It started with my piano teacher teaching me purpose behind my music. It started with a good friend asking me if I’ve been reading my Bible. It started with tears, hope, tragedy, books, broken families, and struggle. Most importantly, it started with a foundation in Christ, and a faith that all my mess-ups would be washed clean. I feel that my life story was written for that one decision I made on March 19, 2010, the day I was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. That was when I knew everything would change.

I was raised more or less Baptist, with a family always striving to grow closer to Christ and to be more devout Christians. I love my family and look up to them very much. They are amazing individuals who each fought through a lot of hardship that make them incredible, strong people today. I was usually going to church on Sundays. It wasn’t always very consistent, but I knew Sunday was for church. However, as I entered my teens, I started feeling hollow and even agitated by things in the churches I would attend. I realize a lot of it was just teen-angst rebellion, but I know it was also just trying to piece together all the complicated pieces of life. I had a lot of questions, and many people around me gave me answers to those questions, whether verbally or not. In short, I was searching, always searching for answers. But even though I was confused, one thing I did know and believe to be true is that Christ is my Savior and Redeemer. I had a firm belief that as long as I held on to that truth, everything else would be okay.

As I entered college, I was so excited to find a church to attend. It was sort of “the big thing” about the first weekend of college when the majority of attendees are Christian. It was a big deal to find that church you felt you fit in the best. It was sort of like being in a sandwich line. There are a lot of different flavors and you get to choose your favorite. You may like this kind of doctrinal bread but dislike that social meat. I was excited to find a church family that I could feel close to, because I had never really experienced that before. I went to several churches my first semester. Some I went to several times, some just once, but every time the same feeling came: this isn’t quite right. So I kept looking.

By the time finals week came around, a very difficult trial that had been ebbing and flowing for months reached tipping point. Going home for Christmas was very challenging, and for two weeks I struggled rather gracelessly. I found myself reading not my Bible, but a little blue book taken from a Marriott Hotel in Maryland months before. Mormons will know this to be the Book of Mormon. I had been reading a very small bit of it for months due to one of my best friends in high school being LDS. My friend and I had many conversations about faith and about the church, but I was never open to it. In fact, looking back on it, I’m surprised we even remained friends I was so stubborn about it. But here I was, sitting in the privacy of my room, soaking up the words of the Book of Mormon like a sponge. It brought me peace that I needed. It was a peace not unlike when I read Psalms and John, but it was striking to me because these were not words I took to be sacred. These were Joseph Smith’s words. At least, I believed so at the time. So I did what I thought would give me the answer: studied the New Testament to find the flaw. If I could find one thing that disproved anything that I knew about the Mormon church in the New Testament, where the Christian church is blueprinted, I could discredit Joseph Smith’s Book of Mormon and move on with my life. I took an intensive course on the New Testament from a Presbyterian professor and spent the month of January reading the entirety of the New Testament and other theological texts. I was studying hard for the class, but I was mostly looking for something to deter me from looking further in the LDS church. I couldn’t find anything convincing enough. Not that I didn’t have questions, but the questions were no different than the kind of questions I’d ask any Christian church. After a lot of prayer and a lot of study, I was surprised that I had nothing on those Mormons. And I completely lacked any prompting or logical reason to stay away.

I decided to go to the core of the matter. I attended a church and found the missionaries. I welcomed the opportunity to meet with them because I wanted to hear what they had to say. I still wanted to find something to prove that they were not Christians and then I could leave. During the church services, I wore the critical attitude I wore when I attended any new church to see if I could fit there. The hymns were too slow. The sermons were boring. Way too many pink hearts and engagements announced in that last meeting with all the women (did I mention this was Valentine’s Day?). And the day was too long. Three hours of church? I would never get used to that. I had no intention of going back. My plan was to meet with the missionaries, have my questions answered, find the reason why Mormons weren’t Christians, which would define why I could not be Mormon, and be finished with it. That didn’t work though. I didn’t find that nasty little piece of doctrine I was hoping for in the first lesson. So we had another. Didn’t find it there either. We continued having lessons several times a week, half of which I entered with the intention of it being my last. But there was a powerful feeling at the end of each lesson that I needed to come back. I asked questions. I studied. I prayed. I continued to go to church, and the criticism ebbed away as I felt what I now know to be the Holy Spirit. It’s something that you don’t feel if you’re looking for the negative, but when you recognize it, you never want to be away from it again. That’s why I kept coming back. It felt very different from any of the others churches I had attended.

There are three distinct epiphanies that I want to share that led me to the waters of baptism. The first was early in the discussions with the missionaries. I had told them about reading the Book of Mormon over Christmas break when I felt lonely and frustrated. We talked a lot of about its origin and message. They bore their testimonies on its truth. Nothing sank in really until one of them asked “How has the Book of Mormon affected your relationship with Christ?” I mumbled out an inadequate answer, but the question stuck with me. Christ? The Book of Mormon is supposed to draw me closer to Christ? The question was about Christ, not Joseph Smith, or any of the other modern prophets of the Mormon church. That changed how I read the Book of Mormon.

The second experience was we were speaking about Latter-Day Saint temples. The elders were explaining how in the temple, members of the church perform ordinances in proxy for those who have passed away. I didn’t get it. After probably a half hour of question and answer that didn’t connect with me, there was a quiet. Then one said “When Christ died on the cross, he bore our sins by proxy. When we do ordinances for the dead in the temple, we are striving to be like Christ by acting as their proxy---“ I don’t expect this to be as ground breaking for anyone else. And it was honestly less about their words and more about what the Spirit was speaking to my soul. But it clicked. It made perfect sense, and I remember the speaking elder stopped in the middle of his sentence because he saw the understanding suddenly on my face. After a beat, his companion said, “I think she’s got it.” And I did. It was like a light had turned on. It was undeniable to me that these people, these Mormons, these alleged terrors, and blind followers of a man named Joseph Smith, they were just trying to be like Christ. And that felt more right than anything I had experienced before. They didn’t tell me what was right and that I would go to hell if I didn’t join the church. They encouraged me to find out for myself.

The last realization (of many I could share) is when I felt the Book of Mormon was true. It was not very long before the baptism date I had set with the missionaries. I had been reading the Book of Mormon for about eight months and didn’t feel certain about it being scripture. But I was reading and praying and I was frustrated because I didn’t know what to do. I felt a lot of support from opposing sides. My family, my previous Baptist church leaders, and my new friends at my university had tried to convince me that I shouldn’t join the Mormon church. My good LDS friend and his family, my new friends at church, the missionaries, and the bishop, encouraged me to hold to what I knew to be true. Well, I didn’t feel I knew anything at all. So I prayed again and again to know what is right and what is wrong. Eventually, I said this prayer: “God, if you tell me that this book is true, I will do everything you ask me to. I will give up coffee and I will pay tithing and I will be faithful to that knowledge if you would just allow me to have it. I will get baptized.” Then the thought occurred to me that I had my answer, I had already made a decision. So I told God that “After all I’ve learned, I think the Book of Mormon is true. Is that right?” That’s when I felt such peace that I cannot really explain unless you have felt it yourself. It was the Spirit testifying that it was right.

This is the most important part of why I got baptized. Knowing the Book of Mormon is true allows all questions to fall into place. I readily admit that I have not been without questions and doubts about the church. I think that’s healthy. But I know that the Gospel can take my questions, and I know it because the Book of Mormon is true. I know that God wants to answer our questions, and he does that through the subtle promptings of the Holy Spirit. I know that God answer prayers, and I know that God loves us. I was still uncertain about a lot of things in the church when I got baptized. But what held me, and continues to hold me when I start to struggle, is the knowledge that the Book of Mormon is true. I get that we won’t always have all the answers, but I also understand that God wants to tell us everything. We just get in the way.

It has been four years to the day of my baptism, and since then I have had several tender experiences that have built my testimony in the Gospel, in the church, in modern prophets, in scripture, and most of all in Christ. I have gone from wearing white on my baptism day to wearing white on my wedding day, when I was sealed to my husband for all time and eternity in the Holy House of the Lord. I am very grateful for my family and their love despite a decision they didn’t agree with. I am especially grateful for the foundation on Christ they taught me from a young age. I am grateful for the Hoffman family and all their patience in teaching me, and for my devoted missionaries who didn’t give up on me. I’m grateful for church leaders who answered questions and blessed me with opportunities to grow in testimony. I’m grateful for the friends who’s testimonies have taught me so much.

Put simply, I’m just very grateful and very happy. I’m humbled by how much effort Heavenly Father puts into drawing His children closer to him. I know I made the right decision four years ago, and since then have grown closer to my Savior. I have had sacred experiences the further confirm my faith. I have felt the love of my Heavenly Father. I have felt the Holy Spirit testify truth to my soul. I don't understand everything. But I know what I know, and I will never turn my back on that.