What a Cub Scout Can Do
Filed under: Conversion Stories, Member Missionary, Sharing the Gospel, Ward Activities
Today’s conversion story is from Maggie Steward. She says her family calls it the “Cub Scout Story”, and groans when she starts to tell it. Enjoy!
SHORT STORY : One Cub Scout asks another to attend scouts at church with him. People are converted who later serve missions in Montreal, Peru, Italy, Brazil (3), Texas, and Indiana. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir gets a general manager. I get an eternal companion and four children.
LONG STORY : When I was in my early teens and living in La Habra California, my younger brother was a Cub Scout, attending the school’s pack. He had a best friend there. One day this friend told him that he would not be a part of that pack any more as his mom wanted him to attend the “church pack” (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, known as the Mormons) instead.
My brother came home and asked if he could attend the church pack with his friend. He started attending and then, shortly before he turned twelve, he came home and said “The other guys get the priesthood when they turn twelve, but I don’t ‘cuz I’m not a member, so I want to join the Church.” My parents wanted to investigate what he wanted to join, and had the missionaries come and teach the lessons to the whole family. My brother joined shortly thereafter and served a mission in Montreal in time.
I did not join then, but was convinced to sign up for early-morning seminary for my second year of high school. After attending seminary all year, I gained a testimony and told my parents that I wanted to join the Church also. So, once again, the whole family took the lessons and I was baptized.
The following year my sister went through the same process. The whole family took the lessons again and joined the Church. My parents never joined, but have been very supportive. My mother died fifteen years ago. My Dad attends Church almost every Sunday with us and is considered a part of the ward, although he is adamant about not joining. Who knows why.
But that is only part of the story.
When I was a senior in high school we moved to Santa Barbara, California. The following year I went to BYU. When I came home on my first break my brother was in the backyard studying with a very beautiful young girl. I asked my mother who she was. Apparently, my brother met her in his math class. The two struck up a friendship and he told her about the Church. She and her family were taking the missionary lessons at our house.
Karen joined the Church shortly thereafter (her parents were not interested.)
My brother dated Karen for a while, but the two decided that they were just friends. Karen started dating a non-member from high school, told him about the Church, he took the lessons and joined the Church. Scott is now the general manager of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and served a very successful mission to Italy. His two oldest children served missions in Brazil, and his youngest child is waiting for his call.
A few years later, while attending Santa Barbara City College, Karen, again in math class, was attracted to a young man who was attracted to her. Craig tried to talk to her after class, but she had to run off to Institute. He got curious, wanted to know what Institute was, started attending, gained a testimony, joined the Church, and served a mission in Peru. He came home and married Karen and had four beautiful children. Two of the children have served missions (Texas and Brazil) and one has been called to serve in Indiana.
Unfortunately, Karen fell away from the Church after about fifteen years and divorced Craig, leaving him with the four children. After a few years, he started dating again. After a few “false starts” he asked me out and we were sealed in the LA Temple on August 5, 1998. When I said “I do” I instantly became the mother of four wonderful children including the elder I took to Provo in February to Missionary Training Center to prepare for serving in the Indiana mission.
One Cub Scout invites another to Church resulting in missionaries sent to four countries and various states. Eternal families are formed AND the Choir gets a manager.
Thanks for letting me tell my story.
~ Maggie Steward
- Elder Matthew Steward – Indiana Indianapolis 2-08 thru 2-10
- Sister Kristine Steward – Texas Houston (Spanish speaking,) wife of Kevin Cook, and mother of Stellan Cook, prospective missionary in 2025
- Sister Stephanie Steward – Brazil Brasilia – marrying in the LA temple July 19, 2008
But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom He hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance. (1 Nephi 1:20)
What good friends can do
1 Peter 1:25 says “But the word of the Lord endureth forever. And this is the word which by the gospel is preached unto you.” Today’s conversion story is from Don Busenbark:
My family did not attend any church services growing up. I remember going to a few different churches, always looking for something, but not really finding anything I liked or that touched me. I lived in an out-of-the- way area in Washington state and had few friends my age. When I was about 14 years old, two young men moved into my neighborhood and we became friends. Their family was LDS, but the boys were not really excited about church. I think they went because their family went.
Anyway, I was home and a couple of missionaries came to my door. It was 1980 and I was 16 years old. I was impressed by their message, but did not have time to visit with them. I played football, basketball and track and was very busy. I told them to come see me in the spring after football, before track started up. A girl I liked at the time had just joined the church a year before and was trying to get her family converted. I went to her house one day to find the missionaries there teaching a discussion. I listened and did not think much of it at the time. I was just trying to impress the girl.
My friends, the two young men who had moved into my neighborhood, invited me to a church activity a few weeks later. They told me they were going to Hawaii. I was shocked at first and then they explained that they were not really going to Hawaii, but they had a youth activity where they were going to pretend to go to Hawaii and then eat Hawaiian food and listen to music, etc. I thought that it sounded like fun so I went with them to the activity.
The members had set the overflow area of the chapel as an airplane. They had boarding passes, stewardesses, and airplane noises. I sat there trying to figure out what was going on when I heard engine failure noises and the lights flicked off and on. Soon the lights went out and everything was quiet. A person with a flashlight appeared and claimed he was Satan. He then proceeded to tell us what would happen if we did not follow the commandments. We then proceeded out of the overflow into a dark room that represented the Telestial kingdom.
We were then instructed as to what would happen to those in this kingdom and what it would be like. We went into another room which represented the Terrestial kingdom. Again, we were given instruction. This room was lighter than the previous room. Then we were escorted into the chapel where there was a Heavenly Mother and Heavenly Father sitting in the front. The brother and sister representing Heavenly Father and Mother spoke to us about the Celestial Kingdom and what it would be like.
When they finished, the youth in the room began to stand and bear their testimonies. I remember thinking that this was so cool that the people of this church loved their youth so much that they did this for them to teach them to do what was right. I also remember thinking that if either of my friends stood up, I was going to stand up. I did not understand then, but I do know now, that the spirit was there bearing testimony to me of the truthfulness of this church.
My friends never stood up in the meeting so I never stood up, but I still remember how strong the spirit was in that meeting. After the meeting, my friends’ dad asked if I liked the activity. I said that I did. Then he asked the golden question. “Would you like to
learn more?” Of course I said yes and that week I had a knock on my door from the elders. I was baptized a few weeks later in April of 1981.
Since then, the Lord has blessed me and my family. I am so grateful for that experience and for the spirit testifying to me of the truthfulness of the gospel.”
The Journey of Faith
Today’s Conversion Story comes from Charlotte Meyer of Maquoketa, Iowa. Her story is a great example of the journey of faith many people have. It’s also a great example of how simply inviting a friend to church can lead to miracles. These are her words:
I grew up in the Methodist Church and went to MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship,) but I never felt comfortable there. I now know that what I was feeling was a lack of the Spirit. My parents quit going to church because they didn’t like the minister or something, but I wanted to keep going to church. There was a Christian & Missionary Alliance Church down the street and around the corner from us and some of my friends from high school went there, so I started going to their church. It was nice, but it was still lacking something.
One day Nicky Cruz came to town to conduct a revival-type meeting at that church. He was a gang member from New York City who had been converted to Christ and spent the rest of his life witnessing of Christ. I attended the revival and heard his testimony, but when they called people up to the front to give their lives to Christ I wanted to do it, but it still didn’t feel right.
I tried to learn about the Catholic Church because I thought rosaries were really cool, but I knew my parents would have a fit about that. When I started junior college, I drove my best friend to college with me because she didn’t have a driver’s license yet. She was Mormon and although her family wasn’t particularly active, she started taking an Institute class. Since the Institute teacher had to drive once a week from out of town, they only had one Institute class per semester and the teacher chose which one he was going to teach. She was taking LDS Doctrine and Philosophy. She was really excited about the things she was learning and she shared them with me.
I found what she had to say really interesting, so I visited her class one day. That was the day they were teaching “As man is, God once was; as God is, man may become.” (“Chapter 2: God the Eternal Father,” Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith, (2007),36–44) They said that God had a God, who had a God and so forth. Boing!! My head nearly exploded that day! However, it was really interesting and I kept asking questions.
Finally one day she asked me if I wanted to take the missionary discussions. Sounded good to me! I didn’t think my parents would like that, so I took the discussions at her house on days when my classes got out earlier. My parents didn’t have a clear idea of my schedule and didn’t know exactly when I should be home, so I didn’t have to explain being later on certain days.
The first thing that struck me was that the missionaries were MY age and they really knew the doctrine of their church! I admit it, I had a crush on one of the missionaries. But it didn’t take me very long to get a testimony of my own. By the third discussion I knew the church was true and wanted to be baptized. But I do remember the day I realized I really had a testimony.
My friend’s family had started going back to church and her father was called as a Sunday School teacher in the teen class. I visited that class with my friend and one of the teens seemed doubtful and was questioning what was said. I wanted to jump up and shout, “Don’t you realize what you HAVE?????” That’s when I knew for sure that I had a testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel.
The time had come to tell my parents I had been studying about the Mormon Church. At that time the legal age was 21 and I had to get my parents’ permission because I was only 19. My parents weren’t happy that I had done this behind their backs and my dad said I hadn’t studied the church long enough to know for sure. I asked him how long I had to wait and he said 6 months. During those 6 months California changed their legal age down to 18 so I no longer needed my parents’ permission, but I waited 6 months anyway.
Exactly 6 months to the day, I asked my parents again, only this time I reminded them that I no longer needed their permission, but would like their blessing. My dad disgustedly said I was old enough to do what I wanted and wouldn’t talk about it any more. My mother told me that if I got baptized, they didn’t want to know about it. I was sad, but determined to do what I knew was right.
I arranged for my baptism to be a week or so later on the night of a youth activity so it wouldn’t be so suspicious that I was going to the church that night. I made my own baptismal dress in the secrecy of my room. That evening I went over to my friend’s house, put on my dress and had my picture taken. Then it was off to church we went. I was baptized by my bishop because by that time “my” missionary had been transferred to another area. It was a wonderful baptism and when I came home that night, I remember lying in my bed saying to my self, “I’m a Mormon! I’m a Mormon!”
My mother found out about my baptism four days later, but my father didn’t find out for sure until several months later. That fall I went to San Diego State University and immediately threw myself into activity at the Institute of Religion, taking classes there, attending the College Branch, and even joining Lambda Delta Sigma. I was in hog heaven! A few years later, after I had finished college and started my career as a television engineer, I decided to go on a mission. My parents flew down to San Diego to talk me out of it, my dad saying that if I was out of the loop for a year and a half I would have a hard time catching up and getting a job again. It took a lot of courage and faith to say, but I said, “Dad, I am doing the Lord’s work and he won’t let me down when I get back, he’ll help me.”
Just before my mission in Japan ended, I started sending out resumes and I had a job offer lined up before I even got home…..in Salt Lake City! My faith had been rewarded!
Every little contact counts
I’ve talked with many people who have joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, referred to as the Mormons, and I love hearing their conversion stories. Rarely does a person join the Church because of one member…it’s usually the result of a variety of experiences with many members. Such is the case of this conversion story from Debi Onken. Her son is currently serving a mission in Boston and another son served in Venezuela.
I was about 12 or 13 when my mother joined the Church. We were living in San Marcos, TX. My mother was either just starting or just ending her second marriage. All of her children over the age of eight were baptised at the same time, including me. I remember the missionaries (Elder Bean and Elder Bower) and I remember some of their discussions (gospel lessons.) I have some vague memories of attending a meeting or two but that’s about it. We were never active and when I went to live with my father (who was stationed in Germany) when I turned 14 that pretty much was the end of my contact with the Mormons.
Many years later when I was in my early 20′s I had moved out to California and my mother moved to Hidden Hills (part of the Calabasas area where we still live). She lived across from a Mormon family – Ginny and Mike Purdy – who managed to “resurrect” the family‘s church membership files. For a very short time I lived with my mother and her husband and I remember having women (probably from the Young Single Adults ward) come to visit me. I always refused their visits.
Several years later I was married and my husband and I moved from Glendale into our first home in Calabasas (the same ward as the Purdys). Suddenly we found ourselves with “visiting teachers” and “home teachers.” At this point in my life I didn’t even know what Relief Society was, but I didn’t want to appear rude by turning such nice people away from my door. My visiting teachers were Ellen Crane and Marcy Koch. I’ve long since lost touch with them but I will always remember them. Each month these lovely ladies would come, usually in the evenings while Martin and I were bathing babies in the kitchen sink or otherwise tending to chores, and they would stand in the kitchen and visit with us – never staying too long, often bringing vegetables from a garden or some other little thing. They usually left a small printed lesson which I would place on the refrigerator door.
Truthfully, I don’t think I ever read them. Through these ladies I did inquire about some sort of “church christening” – first for my oldest and then for my second child which they then helped to arrange. Once, when my second child was still an infant, I broke my ankle and suddenly a stream of women began appearing at my door bringing meals to our family.
eThe visiting teachers were really the first contact that Martin had ever had with the church and for all intents and purposes, they were my first contacts as well. When we moved away from Calabasas for a year, I was genuinely sorry I would not be seeing them again.
I had become so accustomed to being visited that I was a bit let down when we arrived in our new home in Central California and were not visited at all. In fact, although I know our records had been sent, it was the elders tracting that stumbled upon us by accident. There were a few attempts at visiting us, but never with the steadfastness and spirit that Ellen and Marcy had brought to our home.
I believe it was the diligence of these fine visiting teachers that caused Martin and I to actually seek out the church once again when we returned to Calabasas. It was Ellen and Marcy and their friendly, caring presence that impressed Martin and relaxed any reservations he had about contact with the church. We started coming out to meetings – not every Sunday, but frequently. We had a third child by this time who was also blessed in the ward.
Once we returned to Calabasas, my husband spent a lot of time traveling to the Rocky Mountain states. He spent time in Colorado traveling with a devout Baptist who often spoke poorly about the LDS Church (Mormon) not knowing Martin had contact with the church. He also spent time in Salt Lake City traveling with a man who turned out to be a Ward missionary. This gentlemen spent a lot of time talking about the church (still not knowing about Martin’s connections.) One day while in Salt Lake City Martin went to the Visitors Center. While there, he signed up for the missionary discussions. Of course the missionaries back home were only too happy to teach a family who was already occasionally attending meetings! While Martin went through the discussions (and several sets of missionaries) I had very ambivalent feelings. I was comfortable with my “part membership” and did not have a testimony. I enjoyed my association with the church, but I didn’t make much of an effort to gain a testimony.
Once Martin decided to become baptized, I realized that I needed to come to some decision for myself. I picked up the Book of Mormon and read it and that was when I became converted to the Gospel. To this day I am the only active member of my family. Neither my mother nor my siblings has expressed any interest in resuming contact with the church.
Two missionaries planted a seed when I was a young girl but it was two visiting teachers who watered and nurtured and tilled the earth until the gospel was able to take root and grow. I often tell my story to missionaries now to let them know that even if they feel frustrated with their converts who seem to fall into activity soon after baptism, they never really know what will happen many, many years down the line.
Missionary mom’s testimony
Irene Gilchrist from Calgary, Alberta, Canada has a son who is currently serving a full-time mission in Tempe Arizona. She recently shared her conversion story with me and I thought you’d enjoy it as much as I did!
A week before the missionaries came to my door, I had sent off another religious couple (not LDS) from my apartment. I was raised Roman Catholic and to this day have devoted parents to their faith.
Let me begin by letting you know, that when these two sister missionaries came knocking on my door, I was asleep not feeling very well. To my astonishment, when they told me they wanted to talk to me about Jesus Christ, I invited them inside (much to my own shock). I had not been active in my faith for many years.
Within the first 15 minutes of they’re sharing the story of Joseph Smith, they invited me to a baptism. I must tell you that I had never been so touched by such an event and to this day I love pondering upon the first vision.
When we got to church (by taxi I might add, since I had lent my car to one of my brothers), the baptisms were for a fifth grade twin brother and his family. I was deeply moved by the baptism ceremony and the Spirit which dwelt in that room. That weekend was the most remarkable one in my entire life (up to that point). The missionaries invited me to attend church the next morning and I could not get enough of that warmth and peaceful feeling which permeated my entire being.
The first week of discussions were wonderful, I could not wait to hear about the next principle which I would learn about and put it into practice. Then, after speaking to some co-workers, I began to feel uneasy and scared I guess. I sent the missionaries on a bit of a goose chase. Not wanting to answer the phone or being available for appointments. Eventually letting them know that I was leaving the city. (Those poor missionaries, I must have disappointed them so much). Well Heavenly Father’s hand did manifest itself in my life and within a week or so later during Fast and Testimony, I stood up and told the congregation that I wanted to be baptized.
I was baptized March 26, 1976 in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. My future husband was quite involved with the missionaries and frequently asked about my journey into the church thus far. At the time, he was in the small French branch in Hull, Quebec and I had decided to attend the English ward in Ottawa instead. Although I am French-Canadian. Through some work on his part, I would help the French-speaking missionaries within the branch boundaries and eventually, we began dating – a very short while before he left for BYU-Provo to pursue his education.
Tom (my husband) completed one semester and came home (after proposing over the telephone) and we were married in April 1977. The date chosen had everything to do with his dad who had just been called as Patriarch over the Ottawa region. As we had hoped for a one year exactly after my baptism! My husband’s family came from England in the 1800′s and were part of the pioneers (Joseph Harker and Susannah Sneath). I am so thankful for their devotion and sacrifice, for the love which they have passed on to their posterity.
Although to this point, my family is still not interested in the church. I have no doubt in my mind and my heart that the Lord will assist us in touching their hearts when the time is right. My husband and I have been called to serve in the Young Single Adult ward (Brentwood ward in Calgary). We have five boys (2 have and 1 is presently serving his mission in Arizona Tempe Mission).
I love keeping in touch with my missionary! I actually dropped in while visiting Utah one Sunday nearly 2 years ago. She was thrilled (we both were), we hugged and remembered the special experiences we had when she was serving back in my home town of Hull, Quebec.
All together we have 5 sons, 3 daughters-in-law (one from Hyrum, Utah; one from Soda Springs, Idaho and one from Edmonton, Alberta) and 5 grandchildren. I cannot believe that the Lord’s servants were able to find my rebellious soul and touched me in such a way by their sweet spirit and shared the message of the restored gospel.
What a wonderful journey! With life’s ups and downs, I would not change anything for it. I love my Savior and know that he leads and guides me every day.
The Conversion of Ali Cross
I have always known there was a God. Even though I was not taught about God in my family, my heart somehow already knew Him. My family thought it a strange wonder that as a very little girl I would regularly have tea parties with Jesus. Now, as a grown woman, I consider it a wondrous thing indeed that my Savior took the time to comfort and befriend me, even as a tiny child.
I spent much of my youth searching for a church that would support the feelings I held in my heart. I would often go to church with my friends, sometimes staying for a while in one church or another, but inevitably moving on. It wasn’t until I was nineteen that I decided to join with a particular religion. It was a middle eastern religion that did not believe Jesus was the Messiah. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, as His Holiness had been a defining truth in my personal religion my whole life. However, I loved everything else about this religion and so I chose to commit to them.
Jesus is the Living Christ and He is no imaginary friend. I was blessed to receive a very special witness that taught me that I could not join the religion I had determined to join because I could not deny that Jesus was my Savior. As I knelt in prayer along with a group of people, I perceived a bright pinpoint of light directly over my head. I opened my eyes to see what the light was and noticed that no one else was seeing what I was seeing. The light grew brighter and brighter until it filled the whole room and I was bathed in it. I saw, standing in the air before me, my Savior, Jesus Christ. He seemed to be standing on water of the bluest blue, and His robe was as white as the stars. He held out His arms to me and said “Come to me.” My search would need to continue.
Two years later a pair of missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints knocked on my door and handed me a Book of Mormon. They invited me to read it, and since I fancied myself a bit of a ‘collector of religions‘ I was curious, and agreed. I dismissed the Church as a possibility for me pretty early on because I just could not accept that a farm boy from New York could be a true prophet. Also, I had felt my call to serve God pretty strongly and I did not believe that He would want me to be a part of a church that did not give the priesthood to women. Nevertheless, I was fascinated by the young boys (who were my age) who had given up two years of their life to teach their gospel and so I continued to meet with them.
After they had visited with me a couple times the missionaries were frustrated by my insistence that I knew their church was not true because I could not hold the priesthood; they asked me to please pray about it and find out for myself. I did as they asked, though it was strange for me, as I had never been taught to pray like that. Mormons believe that you can speak to God like you would to your father and that He will answer you! I tried it, but was disappointed that when I remained still and quiet on my knees for several long moments, He did not answer me. I got up to go about my bedtime preparations.
As I was coming out of the bathroom to head to bed, a voice spoke to me, clear as day, yet ringing from inside my mind: “You are to be a mother.” Now, to understand the meaning of that statement to me, you need to know that I did not intend to be a mother. I did not value motherhood and had no plan to ever become one. However the power and holiness of this voice drew me to my knees, right there in the hallway. There was no denying who’s voice this was. As tears streamed down my face the Holy Spirit confirmed to me that the greatest calling on earth, the one I had been sent here to fulfill, was to be a mother.
When the missionaries visited the next day, I accepted the gospel. I was baptized just three weeks after first meeting the missionaries and it has been nothing but a gift and a blessing in my life. Though my family questioned my choice in the “Mormon Church” as they called it, I knew that this was the place my Shepherd had been leading me to. I knew I had heard the voice of the Lord and this, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, was His true Church.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is God’s own Church on the earth today. God is the same today as He was yesterday, the same today as He was in the days of the Old Testament. He speaks to us through personal revelation and through His living apostles and prophets. He performs miracles and heals hearts and minds, He is constant and true. I testify that He will search after the one lost sheep and bring her or him into the fold, for I was that lost sheep and he sought me and found me. I have been a member of the Church now for almost eighteen years and I have not felt even a moment’s need to continue searching. I have found where I belong. I have found Him.
My Testimony of the Mormon Church
A common theme of many conversion stories of those who have grown up in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (commonly known as “the Mormons”) is that sooner or later, all must experience conversion to the gospel for themselves. It may be one thing to believe in a church because your parents tell you it’s true, or because everyone in the church you’ve always attended tells you it’s true. It is another to reach that conclusion within yourself, and to commit your own heart and soul to its teachings.
I was raised in the Church, in western Oklahoma. There weren’t too many other Latter-day Saints out there, but my parents were faithful and did all they could to keep our little congregation running. I learned to do the same. As a child I learned the story of Joseph Smith and how he prayed to find out which church was true. Later I learned the concept of the Holy Ghost helping people to know that the Church was true. I usually prayed before bed as a youth, but one night I decided I’d better ask God Himself if the Church were true. It seemed like that was what everyone else at church had done. But outside of being an active Latter-day Saint my whole life, I hadn’t particularly pondered the question or prepared myself to receive an answer. I didn’t know what I expected to get, but I did think I might get some kind of sign … or something.
Well, the earth did not move beneath me and I did not receive a heavenly visitor in my bedroom. In fact, I wasn’t sure I felt anything different. But, I noticed, I didn’t feel bad about it either. The feeling I had, although subtle, was one of peace. I noted in my journal that I felt “reasonably good” about it and supposed that I’d done my duty and I had my testimony of the Church like everyone else.
Another thing I didn’t understand at that time was that conversion doesn’t end there, just with one experience on your knees and one “reasonably good” feeling. Looking back to my baptism and confirmation when I was eight years old, I remembered feeling something special at that time. I’d just received the gift of the Holy Ghost and in my eight-year-old mind I felt like I was floating. (I had felt so light that afterwards I went home and weighed myself.) I remembered feeling peaceful when I’d heard stories read from the scriptures.
Looking forward, a few years later when I feeling socially inept at an overnight LDS youth conference, I prayed for help in getting to know a guy who’d caught my attention. (So far I hadn’t really spoken to him.) And that guy ended up next to me in the final testimony meeting of the conference. Frankly, I was surprised at receiving such an overt answer to my prayer (and subsequently flubbed my opportunity to talk to this guy), but my testimony that there really was a God who had really heard and answered my prayer was greatly strengthened.
Another couple of years down the road, I was taking a home study seminary class that I’d fallen dreadfully behind in. (Seminary is a program available through the Church that helps the youth to study the scriptures.) That year we were studying the Book of Mormon, and I’d wanted to read the whole book myself for the first time. But I was also under strict orders to finish my written assignments by the end of the week. So I locked myself in my room and worked on my assignments and read the Book of Mormon for several days until I was finished. (I have to admit that there were some rebellious teenage motives in my desire to read the whole Book of Mormon. At this point I was so far behind that my teacher and my parents were encouraging me to just get the written work finished and turned in. Naturally, I had to prove them wrong.)
Those days with my seminary assignments and the Book of Mormon started as drudgery, like any homework assignment. But as I continued to read I truly began to feel the spirit in this great book. By the time the Savior appeared to the Nephites, it had become real to me. I felt like I was there. I felt like I had been awaiting His coming just as the Nephites had. I did finish reading the Book of Mormon, and I was a bit startled to realize that I did in fact know that it was true. The knowledge hadn’t come to me in a vision or sign from heaven, but I knew it just the same.
And this pattern has continued throughout my life. Again and again I’ve felt the peace that comes from studying the scriptures and praying for help and strength. Over and over I have seen my prayers answered. Sometimes there are “big” things that happen. Often it’s just the little things, over and over. As I’ve grown my understanding has deepened. I’ve learned that our true conversion and loyalty must be to our Savior Jesus Christ. He speaks to us through His prophets and His scriptures, and it His church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, that holds the keys to His priesthood. I am grateful for the experiences that I’ve had and I add my own testimony that I know that God is real, that He loves us and hears and answers our prayers. The power and authority behind the priesthood is real. I am truly grateful to have the restored gospel in my life today.
Line Upon Line: the Conversion of Nathan Howe
Since I first heard it, I have been impressed by a small part of the story of Elijah:
“And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD. And, behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD; but the LORD was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the LORD was not in the earthquake:
And after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.” (2 Kings 19:11-12)
Only in that small voice did Elijah find the Lord. In a similar way, I had no experience with a burning bush, but the still voice of the Lord has guided me in the path He would have me follow.
I was intellectually persuaded that the teachings of the “Mormon” Church were true long before I believed them in my heart. So many of the simple things I was taught as a child made sense in my mind: God is our Father. He loves us. He offered Jesus Christ to help us return to Him. God speaks to us through prophets, in the past and today. These concepts have always seemed fundamentally logical to me.
Logic has played an important role in my life. I have always loved to prove my point with airtight thinking, and I teach others to do the same as a debate coach. With faith, though, we cannot trust in the arm of flesh, and we cannot rely on the mind of man. Part of believing in God is believing that He understands things beyond our comprehension. As a righteous king named Benjamin said in the Book of Mormon:
“Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.” (Mosiah 4:9)
My process of conversion did not happen in one or two major events; it has been a progression of small steps. Learning to go beyond my analytical approach and accept Jesus Christ as my Savior has been a beautiful challenge. I have felt the guiding hand of the Lord for a long time, but the times I have recognized it most vividly came during ordinances of the Gospel. Receiving blessings as a child at the hand of my father, exercising the Aaronic Priesthood in my teenage years in administering the Sacrament, and receiving greater light in the Temple, I have felt the presence of God.
The impact of these major, official events, combined with the love and direction I have felt in personal prayer and study of the scriptures, are more powerful than any man-made experience. Even when life seems dark, the light of Jesus Christ and His restored gospel guide me. I am comforted to know that God speaks today: not only does He reveal Himself to prophets, but He will show the least of His children that He remembers them.
I may not have a flashy story about how I came to know Jesus Christ, but in His name, I say that I know He lives and He overcame sin and death for me. This is the foundation of my faith, and thus the foundation of every other aspect of my life. I pray that many others may search, pray, feel, and know in this way.
The Conversion of Ruby Barrus
I had not prayed to God in nine long years. The last time I had prayed to Him it was when I was eighteen, at the hospital, near my father’s side, as he lay dying right before my eyes. I prayed to God that He would not take him from us right before Christmas. I truly felt like I couldn’t take it. No sooner than I finished pleading up to the sky uttering, “Not now, not now..”, did my father bolt straight up out of his bed, shook his head, looked around at all of us, and then asked for a cup of coffee. For those of us that were there that night, including my family, the doctors, nurses, and the priest who just finished performing the Last Rites, we all believed we witnessed a miracle.
Having my father come home three days before Christmas in better condition than I had seen him in many months was, unfortunately, not enough to hold my faith in God. When my father finally passed away less than two months later, my heart became hardened. I was angry at God, and also at the priest who visited my parents during that short span in between his hospital stay and his passing because he recommended to them that they “let go”. At the time, due to my lack of understanding (especially concerning the surrounding circumstances), I felt like he basically told my father to give up hope and to quit fighting to stay alive. I could not comprehend the reason why God would keep him alive from that night just to take him away, and I was upset that my father took the priest so literally, and decided to let go and die. What kind of God and what kind of religion would advocate that? At that point, I gave up religion (and anything associated with it) and turned my back on the miracle I had once thought I had witnessed.
In the years that followed, I guess you could say I was Agnostic. While I didn’t deny the existence of a higher power at work in the Universe, I denied any one definition of God that I came across, and refuted anyone who would even use the word “God” because of the hypocritical nature and misuse I had witnessed from those same people, even from the ones who were supposed to be authorities on God. I cultivated my own spirituality and definitions based on conclusions I came to within my own experiences, positive and negative. Anytime anybody asked me what religion I was my reply was always, “I’m not religious, but I am spiritual.” Despite my spirituality, there were still many questions that I had not found answers for, and there was always a lingering feeling that something was missing.
Flash forward to my twenty-seventh year. I am laying on a gurney by myself in a hospital observation room listening to the thump-thump of my son’s heartbeat on a fetal monitor. At the time I was twenty-five weeks pregnant. My water had started to leak and I was being monitored because the doctors were worried that my son would get some sort of infection that would be fatal to his barely viable body and that I would go into early labor. I had a perfect pregnancy up until that point and my husband and I were excited to meet our first child, but not under those circumstances. There was no other sound in that room but my son’s heartbeat and I was scared. For the first time in nine years, I prayed to God:
“Dear God, I know I haven’t spoken to you in a long time, but please help me. If it be thy will that my son would die, then I will accept it. But if you let him live, I promise that I will do everything in my power to teach him about you so that he can do your work.”
My son was born during an emergency C-section when the umbilical cord prolapsed (after I sneezed no less) exactly two weeks later. He was two pounds and no bigger than my husband’s hand. He remained in the hospital for the remaining three months that he was supposed to be in my womb, but thankfully, his stay was uncomplicated and he had no defects. Even the doctors were surprised at his developmental milestones. He was a healthy six pounds when he came home to us.
About four months after my son’s first birthday, on a cold December morning, I heard a knock on the door. When I opened it, standing before me were the smiling faces of two friendly missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (or Mormons). I couldn’t help but laugh to myself because I truly knew that they were sent by God to help me fulfill my end of the ‘deal’. Even before I answered the door I heard a small, still voice whisper, “Its time.” I invited them back to our home, but did not want to discuss anything about the Mormon church quite yet. I felt like I had to get to know them better.
When I first opened the door I wasn’t surprised to find Mormons bringing me the message from God. However, I must admit, it was slightly amusing because it wasn’t my first encounter with Mormons. In fact, looking back, some of my best friends had been Mormon, and never once did they ever try to impose their beliefs on me. My husband also grew up being Mormon, but was not actively attending church at the time when I met him. In fact, he had just decided to not go on a mission for the church only a few months before I met him. He never wavered on his belief that the Mormon church was true, and he did acknowledge that he was not living his life as he knew he was supposed to. His strength of conviction in his faith and his accountability for his choices in living up to that faith was what I admired about him the most, aside from his wacky sense of humor. We had discussed the doctrines of the church quite often because of my own curiosity, and my husband always said, “If God did in fact establish His church on Earth, this is the closest one I know of that lives up to what I think it would be like.” Throughout our discussions, he never pressured me to join the church. He wanted me to experience my own conversion, if I were to choose to want to. In retrospect, I truly believe that I was his mission.
Anyhow, our home became a sort of home away from home for the missionaries not only in our ward, but for the other missionaries serving in other wards. It was during these times that I got a chance to basically interview each one about why they believed in God and in the Mormon church. I was very impressed with the thoughtfulness behind their answers. I could tell that they studied the gospel carefully and prayerfully. I also was impressed with the spiritual maturity coming from these young men, and the dedication they had to helping other people search for true happiness. I finally agreed to the invitation to have the first discussion to learn more about the Mormon church from the missionaries in our ward.
The night of my first lesson was absolutely amazing. As we talked about Joseph Smith’s First Vision, the Restoration of the gospel, the Atonement of Jesus Christ, and Heavenly Father’s Plan of Salvation, we all felt the Holy Ghost fill the entire room confirming the truthfulness of our discussions. We discussed our own divine purposes and how our paths were intended to cross. I, along with my husband and the missionaries were literally on the edge of our seats with excitement as we discussed the love that our Heavenly Father has for each and every one of His children. The buzz of electricity in the air was so palpable that we felt that we were elevated at least four inches off of our seats. I had never felt anything in my life like that and neither did they. We ended up talking into the night, and I received all the answers to the questions I had carried with me through the years. I knew I wanted to be baptized as soon as possible.
From the discussions of that single evening, I knew that I had found what I was searching for all of my life. I had found meaning. I had found purpose. I had found my Heavenly Father. Although I had abandoned Him long ago, He never abandoned me. He doesn’t abandon any of us. He was waiting for me to be ready to seek out His help, and to humble myself enough to receive it. He had heard and answered my prayers. The knowledge that I had learned through those discussions helped to provide me with the understanding I needed to forgive and accept past events in my life that had previously negatively impacted me. I was comforted.
It was time. I was baptized a month after that initial evening. My husband also returned to the church. After the birth of our daughter the following year, my husband and I were sealed to our children and to each other for time and all eternity.
We pray together as a family daily now, and are strengthened because of it. My miracle boy will turn eight next summer and will have the choice to be baptized a Mormon. Already, his prayers are so thoughtful (he prays for “everyone on Earth to be happy and to see the beauty this world has to offer”) and his love for Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father is remarkable to see. I look forward to witnessing him being baptized by his father and to seeing him grow in his faith. I feel blessed that we are able to bring to him the knowledge and truthfulness of the eternal gospel of Jesus Christ. I also feel truly blessed that Heavenly Father entrusted both of these wonderful little spirits into our care.
Before my conversion, I experienced the lingering feeling that something was missing. Because of the blessings that I received by accepting the fullness of the eternal gospel of Jesus Christ, that feeling no longer exists. I remember who I am now. I am a child of God, and I am made whole.
Matt Moody’s First Testimony and Conversion
Before I left to serve a mission for the “Mormon” Church, I knew that I had not experienced the “burning” that my mother spoke of as she testified of restored truth. But I always felt good about attending the LDS Church, and I felt good about the decision to serve a mission–I relied upon my mother’s testimony. I knew, that she knew.
The word “conversion” refers to a changing or a turning. Conversion manifests in many ways: a change from one belief to another; a turning from lack of belief to faith; a change from one religion to another; or a turning from selfish will to following God’s will.
In the Old Testament conversion is often characterized by the idea of “turning.” The prophet Joel wrote these words about conversion:
“Therefore also now, saith the LORD, turn ye even to me with all your heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and with mourning: And rend your heart, and not your garments, and turn unto the LORD your God: for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness” (Joel 2: 12, 13).
This is the story of my first testimony, a conversion from not knowing to knowing. It is a story of receiving an unmistakable heavenly revelation concerning particular truths–a profound witness received while serving a mission in Canada for the “Mormon” Church.
The flight from Salt Lake City to Calgary, Alberta was surreal. It was like riding a rocket to another planet; luckily, the creatures at this new planet spoke English–eh! It was wintertime, and looking out the window of my rocket, I could see miles and miles of white, frozen fields below.
After three days in Canada, I wrote these words in my journal:
“I went tracting for the first time. It was kind of discouraging. My companion and I approached one lady who wasn’t very nice. Sometimes I wonder if this will in fact turn out to be the best two years of my life. I learned from this experience of being rejected that a missionary needs to be constantly worthy of the Spirit. For only through the Spirit can we touch the hearts of the people.”
Staying at the Calgary mission headquarters for about a week, I was then transferred to Lethbridge in southern Alberta. While teaching investigators a lesson about the restoration of the gospel, I realized just how spectacular this story of “Mormonism” might seem to someone hearing it for the first time.
The reality of the restoration is such a colossal occurrence, that the prophet Isaiah calls it “a marvelous work and a wonder” (Isaiah 29: 15). Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Mormons, boldly proclaim to the world these amazing truths:
1) God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ appeared to a young man named Joseph Smith.
2) The angel Moroni directed Joseph to translate an ancient record engraved upon gold plates–the Book of Mormon.
3) John the Baptist appeared to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery and restored priesthood authority to baptize.
4) Peter, James, and John bestowed the “keys of the kingdom of Heaven” upon Joseph and Oliver.
Adding to this marvelous story of restoration, there were other angels (resurrected beings) who returned to earth in direct fulfillment of prophecy–to include Elijah and others.
As I taught this story of restored truth and encouraged truth seekers to pray to the Father in the name of Jesus Christ to receive a Heaven’s witness, I knew that I needed to receive my own “burning” witness, independent of my mother’s testimony.
For some, answers to pray will come almost immediately by sincerely asking; for others, a sure witness comes after a trial of faith; and still others receive Divine witness only after humble repentance. I sensed that receiving my heavenly witness would require more than just “asking.” The 4th chapter of James provides a guide for receiving Heaven’s revelation:
“God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble. Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded. . . . Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up” (James 4: 6-10).
According to the Lord’s will and timetable for me, I sensed that receiving a sure witness involved becoming pure and humble, and pushing aside “double minded” flip-flops between doing my will and following His will. Therefore, I prayed for Christ‘s redeeming miracle to make me clean and “new” (2 Cor. 5: 17). After faithfully preparing myself in the way the Spirit guided, an overwhelming witness from God was in store.
On a Sunday in Cardston, Alberta, I attended a Stake Conference; there, I listened to Loren C. Dunn, one of the General Authorities.
As Elder Dunn spoke, I thought to myself, “either this man is a representative of God, or he is not.” A key question was directly before me: Did Loren C. Dunn possess priesthood power, restored to earth by Peter, James, and John, and John the Baptist.
I had a good feeling as I listened to Elder Dunn’s message. I can’t recall the subject that he spoke on, but I cannot forget his concluding words–his testimony of the living God. As he humbly expressed his Heavenly witness, something happened to me which far surpassed a “good feeling.”
His testimony was simple and direct:
“I know God lives.”
After a short pause, Elder Dunn said the same phrase again,
“I know God lives.”
Then after an longer pause, where it seemed he was reaching into the depths of his soul to say what the Lord wanted him to say, . . . he repeated the same phrase a third, a fourth, and a fifth time:
“I know God lives!”
Elder Dunn had captured my attention after his third saying of the phrase, . . . and by his fifth saying, something happened beyond words to describe: A spiritual explosion filled my entire being; it was a magnificent feeling far beyond the experience of mortal emotion. Heaven’s awesome power visited me personally and in a moment of transcendent clarity: I knew that I listening to one of God’s authorized servants–a man duly ordained to the priesthood.
In that amazing moment of being lifted up by overwhelming Light, I also received an unmistakable answer to the questions I had be praying about:
Peter James and John were indeed sent from the presence of God, to restore the keys of the kingdom of heaven–the authority to perform the covenant of eternal marriage. I knew that John the Baptist was commissioned by Christ to restore the authority to baptize. And I was crystal clear that both of these priesthood restorations came through the man who communed with the Father and the Son–the prophet Joseph Smith.
This unmistakable spiritual witness was given to me from God; the same omnipotent God who created heaven and earth; and the same gracious God who hears and answers the prayers of all humanity.
More than a decade after serving my mission, a Mormon Hymn entitled “Testimony” would be added to the Mormon Hymn Book; coincidentally, the text of this hymn would be written by Loren C. Dunn (1930-2001), and the music would be composed by my own brother, Michael F. Moody.
Hymn #137 – Testimony
The witness of the Holy Ghost, As borne by those who know,
Has lifted me again to thee, O Father of my soul.I know that thou art in the heav’n. I know the Savior reigns.
I know a prophet speaks to us For our eternal gain.My eyes are wet; my heart is full. The spirit speaks today.
O Lord, wilt thou my life renew And in my bosom stay.As testimony fills my heart, It dulls the pain of days.
For one brief moment, heaven’s view Appears before my gaze.
From the time of my first testimony, the Spirit of Truth has blessed me with many more unmistakable affirmations.
Through graduate studies in social psychology and family sociology, I have thoroughly researched and observed how social environment absolutely shapes the thinking and actions of individuals–the most profound influence coming from the social environment we cannot see. I therefore say with informed conviction that my knowledge of restored truth is not just a function of social upbringing. While I did lean upon my mother’s loving light in the beginning, I know of myself that the Lord’s “marvelous work and a wonder” commenced in 1820, as the Father and His Son Jesus Christ appeared to the prophet Joseph–this I know independent of my mother’s significant influence.