There is a time in your life when the light goes on.  It is in that moment when all your trials, experiences and lingering questions come together and then the answer appears.

I am a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints also commonly called the Mormon Church.  I was 18 years old and all of my childhood and youth could not have been further from Gospel principles.  I was the youngest of four kids born to an alcoholic father and an extremely abusive mother, who divorced when I was 9.

I just figured that everyone’s home life was the same as mine, tumultuous, until I started school.  I learned very quickly that it was not the same at all.  When I was about 6 years old I remember praying to God about wanting to find people that were like me, that love kids and family was first, who knew that He existed and loved me unconditionally, that nothing is really a coincidence.

When I was 16 years old, I was kicked out of the house because I no longer fit into what my mom wanted in her life.  It was tough living on the streets of a major city and continueing in school but  I did it. After graduating high school I moved to another city to “start over”.  I knew that I was searching for the meaning of my life but didn’t know where to find it or if it even existed.

An Introduction to Mormon Missionaries

I was introduced to the Mormon missionaries within 6 months. The moment that Elder Hause opened his mouth to teach me, the light inside me, the spirit inside me knew I had finally found my home.  Since the Gospel has been in my life now for many years, I have never had more peace, pure joy and unconditional love.  The Saviour took me gently by the hand and reached into my battered heart and I felt a calm, a peace and an assurance that I would never be alone again.

The Saviour knew me, little old me, the wallflower in the room, whose mother said was the one not wanted, the girl with lower than low self-esteem. And I knew in my heart that He knew me, better than I knew myself.

I realized that was what the missionaries had taught me, the “burning in my chest”.   I knew that I could never, would never be able to deny it. I was as sure as the sun rises every morning and then sets every evening.   I am a Child of God. My testimony was embedded into my heart.  I knew at that split second that I wanted, needed and with the deepest desires of my heart to be baptized into the LDS church, the fully restored church that Jesus taught. When I had only known darkness and sadness, His light was both a comfort and a blessing to me.  It was 13 short days after that first meeting with the missionaries that I was baptized as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Kay Cahoon is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of  Latter-day Saints (Mormon), wife, mother of six, grandma of many, traveler and genealogist.

Additional Resources:

Mormons Know God Lives

Mormons and Jesus Christ

Mormons and the Bible

The Meaning of Life

Meet Real Mormons

It would be accurate to say that my journey from a 47-year old working woman, divorced and somewhat worldly by the standards of the 1980’s, and long independent of the religious rigors of Judaism, divorced also from all family ties – to the ultra-conservative, humbling and obedient lifestyle of one devoted to the Gospel of Jesus Christ was a miracle of a sort that mortal minds cannot easily understand. I don’t mean a miracle of conversion from Jew to Christian, thought that is also in today’s world an unlikely event, but a miraculous happening of proportions no less than life altering in the most profound sense.

My conversion story is, of course, miraculous in a number of ways. Initially, I received a call from my brother somewhere in the morning hours of a day in the early 70’s. He gave me the news that he had joined the Mormon church and that it was, for him, a life-changing experience. He described to me how he had been baptized in warm water, had hands laid upon his head while then invited to accept what a Jew would call a “Shekinah”, the Holy Ghost. I was completely baffled by this sudden phone call and even more so by my recently married twenty-something brother. I’d left home at 17, running away to parts eastward while he, a mere 10-year old, had to remain at home with our mother, several years divorced from our father and now quite poor, as I gathered from her letters to him asking for enough money to buy food for the week’s meals.

Jack and I were never really friends. I didn’t really know my only sibling, seven years my junior. My life centered at that time on avoiding or, alas, enduring our father’s angry diatribes upon his family. For many years I suffered from a legitimate fear of our father – I was the first-born, an unblessed occurrence in a Jewish family. He was not a large man, 5’ 11”, but very strong. He was a genius. He worked as a one-man construction company and made very good money. We never went without anything. But, whenever my mother told him I misbehaved, he reacted with anger and vowed to straighten me out. Many, many days and nights his abusive backhand and large brown belt left Jacks upon me – those that could be seen, yes; but even deeper, scars that left me in deep pain and heart torn. I knew I was of no value to him and not of much help to my mother. In fairness, she suffered beneath his cold, unloving demeanor and long bouts with depression. She was afraid of him and he several times gave her reason. I only wondered that she didn’t pack up and run away.

Mom worked at the Los Angeles Veterans Administration hospital. She was an RN and worked with paraplegics. Her hours were long and hard and her life was unhappy. She many times attempted suicide. I have many memories of returning home after school, only to find her being carried out on a hospital gurney to the local infirmary, her wrists slashed, her face tear-stained face drained of color and fixed in a hopeless stare. Between the two of them, it’s a miracle I made it to 17!

Looking back now, I see that my desire to be loved and accepted for the innocent child I was and the confused woman I was becoming settled deeply within me, as a second, soundless self. I think then I began a very long, lonely search for a happy time, a bit of joy, a way to like who I was, even if no one else did.

Our religious life seemed mundane. We were Jews, we attended synagogue on a somewhat regular basis, choosing the Orthodox way for a while. Dad went to High Holy Day services yearly. I remember him wearing the tallit around his shoulders, the kippah anchored on his head. I was proud of him. Eventually, due to the great restrictions the Orthodox Jews place on about every facet of life, my parents felt so restricted that we began attending the Conservative meetings on Saturday. I studied at Hebrew Sunday School and was confirmed (graduated) when I reached 14.

Looking back, I still wonder that I knew something was missing from my synagogue attendance. I remember that night – my mother was so proud of me. I looked at her and said “I won’t be returning here, mom.”

“What?” She was so startled I thought she was going to faint. She did have fainting and crying spells.

“Well, I just feel there is something missing. I don’t know what it is, but I know that I will find it if it takes the rest of my life.”
Just like that. I knew. The synagogue was an empty place for me. Oh, I believed what I was taught, I loved studying Hebrew, I accepted the traditional meals and celebrations… but my “other, second self” was watching from another vantage point – quiet, serious, searching. Something was wrong. The picture wasn’t complete. For all my success and graduation from Hebrew School, it was no more than a lonely point of light whose brightness did not penetrate my sad, dark spirit.

I attended college – numerous colleges, and finally San Diego State University. I moved there in the late 70’s and went to work in hospital administration. Mom and I were not close; dad decided he hated me and told me not to come around anymore. I married, and several years later, having no idea how to live with a man in marriage, I divorced. Due to various problems of a “female” kind, I had to surrender my ovaries to the cutting room floor, and so having children was made swiftly impossible for me. Fortunately, I found that creative writing gave me an outlet for my dreams and feelings and helped me to understand the life I was growing. I even attended a Conservative synagogue (somewhat liberal) and then a Reform synagogue (much more liberal) here and there, mainly to keep in touch with my heritage – I am a Czechoslovakian and Ukrainian Jew – but, though I felt welcome and lucky to be a Jew, that silent second self languished. What was missing? Where to look, how to ask? There must be more.

It was during those years of my thirties that my brother brought me a Book of Mormon and told me that I needed Christ in my life. Another miracle. He said the Spirit had sent him to me. I didn’t know what he was talking about and promptly denied it and stuffed the book in my bookcase where it sat quietly for a dozen years,while I continued to search for meaning in my life. I was at that time involved with a Jewish man and his children. We all attended synagogue. We had Shabbat meals on Friday nights. We celebrated Chanukah. Not the time, I told myself, to study a Christian book. But I kept it.

That situation broke suddenly and unhappily. I moved away and lived alone again in San Diego, working extra shifts at the hospital, very much a loner, wondering about the meaning of life in general, mine in particular. What was the point of it all?  Then in 1976, Jack sent me missionaries. I let them in only because my brother had sent them. They were, of course, young and lovely and so eager to teach me, a Jew. Though they knew nothing about Judaism, they courageously explained to me the Plan of Salvation. Wow, I said to them. That is the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard, but I can’t accept that. I am a Jew. We have our own beliefs. And so it went for a month or two. They took me to the Mormon Battalion Church. I wouldn’t go inside. Jews don’t enter churches, I told them. But when I touched the door handles, I began to cry. I didn’t know why, of course. But they smiled broadly.

After a while I sent them away. I am a loyal person. As a Jew who had seen pictures of the Holocaust, heard my grandmother cry year after year because our cousins in Ukraine had been murdered in Hitler’s war, read sacred Torah portions in synagogue and loved the Hebrew songs and prayers, I could not leave my faith behind for any other. But, though I felt secure in my ethnic beliefs I continued to search for a more meaningful life. I think that when someone carries sadness within for many years it becomes like a suit of dark inner skin. No light can enter, and there is none to give away.

A full twelve years later, 1987, brother Jack called from his home in Oregon. His wife, long a cancer survivor, was dying. I loved Mahala. She was Tongan. Her father had translated the Book of Mormon into Tongan, and the family was adopted into the royal lineage of Tonga. But there was no financial prize for that achievement. She and Jack lived hand to mouth then, and they had four small children to raise. He was in a tough spot. Come on up here, he offered me. You can be very useful. I agreed to check it out. Why not? Maybe family ties could be re-established.

I immediately fell in love with Eugene, Oregon, and after two weeks determined to move up there, which I did a short time later. In the house behind Jack’s lived a couple who were at that time set apart senior stake missionaries. They came after me with a vengeance. I, of course, refused. Just let’s be friends, I told them. I know about your religion but I am devoted to my own. Sure, they said, no problem there. But every day they helped out. Every evening they came over to smile in my face, to see how we all were doing, to bring food, to help, help, help. It was terrible. I was learning to love them. I hated it because I knew what they were trying to do, but how to resist all that loving care? I may be loyal to my Jewishness, but, alas, I was also a lonely woman…

It wasn’t long before they moved to a small farm outside of town and invited me to come live with them The farm they purchased was poor and small and not productive, but they had five children of their own to raise and little extra for improvements. I thought I could help out and so contributed money and we built a room onto their barn. It was a comfortless place – one hanging light – a baseboard heater on one side, a slab for a bed – the very least in modern accommodations. I had to travel to the main house to use the bathroom, but I did set up a table for reading and eating, a place for books and my essentials. I moved in. As I think back now, that small square space just adjacent the goat barn and a few feet from the milking stand, was my own private birthing place. It offered me silence and contemplation – except for those damn, noisy goats – for I had agreed finally to study the long-shelved Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price. What a victory those stake missionaries had won!

But they didn’t have me yet. I also took with me the Hebrew Bible and many other books just as fervently Judaic as the BofM was Mormon. I will prove all of this wrong, I told them all. Then I can get on with my life. Of course, I had no husband or children or a job with any future… why was I still breathing? Where did I come from and where, oh where was I supposed to be going? So I tied the knot in my rope of life and hung on.

I cannot emphasize enough the need for isolated, intense, dedicated study. In our busy world we donate precious little time to spiritual things. For almost half a year I left the world behind and lived in the world of the spirit, much as I did on my mission years later. Clearly that time is what made this time possible. I read and prayed, walked the streets and talked to God. Read and prayed some more. I learned the ways in which Heavenly Father communicated with His children of old. I read the prophets. I read the New Testament for the first time. Oh! What an amazing record. I had no idea of the life of Christ. Jews are told never to read that testimony; never to read about the man whose appearance and teachings have caused the Jewish people so much bloodshed at the hands of men who would convert us at the point of a sword and a guillotine.

Then, quite suddenly one day, after hours of contemplation, while in my car at a stop sign I heard a voice twice say to me “Jesus Christ is the savior of the world.” I pondered it.

I remember an incident that just preceded the appearance of that holy being. I was having a heated discussion with Karen, in whose barn-room I was living. Suddenly she stopped me and said:

“Do you really understand your Torah? Do you know the meaning of the blood spilt upon the altars of Solomon’s temple? Do you know why the Hebrews smeared lamb’s blood across the doors of their homes when Pharaoh came searching for all the first born males?”

I froze. What was I hearing? She continued. “That lamb’s blood was in similitude of the blood of the Lamb of God. Jesus Christ. His blood. He gave it willingly, for you and for all mankind.”

A seismic shock slammed my brain. I screamed and stopped and screamed again. The neighbors came running to her door. That day was a turning point. I knew she spoke the truth, and I knew in that moment that I was being rescued. Blinders prevent the light of understanding.

That next Sunday I braved Jewish tradition, asked God to protect me and marched into Mormon Sunday school. There were my stake missionaries teaching the Plan of Salvation, just for me. This time I opened my heart to that timeless message of deliverance. I pondered it, but still didn’t make a move, because I knew in my heart that this was nothing to fool with. If these things really are of God, then they are truth, not a folktale, not tradition, I had to seriously respond to it. Step up to the plate. So there I waited upon the precipice.

One day standing outside the barn, a miracle happened. I was given a visual revelation. The Holy Ghost then spoke to me. He said only this: “You must remember that it’s all in how you think about it.”

Truth came at once into my soul! I began to vibrate uncontrollably, from toe to head, filling with joy and light, and at that instant I understood the meaning of full freedom to choose. Blinders fell from my eyes. I finally could accept the fact that long ago in Palestine there was a man, a Jew who came to teach the Kingdom of God. That he, finishing the Hebrew Passover with his disciples, walked from that table to the Garden of Gethsemane to begin an infinite atonement for mankind. He pointed the way to God. What he did there split history down the middle and echoes through eternity.

I was given the knowledge at that moment that all of it, everything I had read and heard, is true. My heart pounded. I felt I was growing a new one to fill up new space. No need to ponder now, time to act. I was baptized soon after, on April 6th, 1988, and I have never doubted since that moment. When I was set apart as a stake missionary soon after baptism, it was revealed to me that my life mission is to be an Esther to the Jews, through their brethren Latter-day Saints, that they may know the ways of God and His great plan for the reunion of Judah with Joseph.

Why, then, was I born a Jew? To walk the road, to experience the long preparation of pre-Latter-day Saint history. To learn that truth is a tapestry of all true prophecies, faith, obedience, repentance and unyielding hope. The Old Covenant is not old, the New not new, Book of Mormon not newer, they are all part of one fluid, moving record. Why are we moving forward? Hebrews 4:16 tells us: Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace – that we may obtain mercy.

I work in the Seattle Washington Temple. Sometimes, looking down at the baptistry at the 12 oxen beneath the font, symbols of the kinship of the 12 tribes of Israel, I realize anew that on the backs of history is born and carried the future of mankind. I know that the journey of the human spirit from despair to joy involves a resounding and determined leap of faith that has to be made in order to receive the gifts and blessings that are promised each person who has ever lived. When I was changed on that spot outside the barn, speaking with a heavenly presence, I received the strength to make that leap of faith.

So many people search for the parts of themselves they cannot find, and do not know they are looking. Yet, when they are lucky enough to be blessed with the fruits of their search, oftentimes they turn the other way, denying it, downplaying it, running from it. For me, there came a time I could no longer run, but had to turn and face my doubting self and admit that I was teachable – more, that I wanted to be taught. I wanted to learn, to find a reason to care, to hope, to achieve, to conquer my fears, to find the best within me, and to have a happy, even a spiritually uplifting life.

Because I have great faith in Christ, I have done all I can to learn about him. I am a returned senior missionary – 1995-6. I have served in numerous ward, stake and church missionary callings. I give firesides on my conversion and the similarities/differences between Mormonism and Judaism. I have authored seven books to support the life mission I have been given and hope to write another. I hope to spend all my life here and afterward in the service of my Savior who did indeed save me. His Hebrew name is Jeshua (Yeshua) and it means “he who saves”.

In the Gospel of Jesus Christ as taught by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints I found the truth of all of these things. I remain a Jew – by blood and heritage – AND I am a Christian … not complete, for learning and repenting and humbling never end, but now the Iron Rod of Truth is firmly within my grip and I am on the road home to my God and my Christ. We are the architects of our lives. What we do remains as our private heritage and we must welcome the opportunity in this “Second Estate” to build an everlasting foundation upon which we can then erect throughout the years of our lives an enduring, righteous and impenetrable home in which our eternal spirit can live in peace and joy. Happiness is obtainable and peace is our birthright.

Never give up, never give up. The truth does set you free, and we humans were invented to find, live and share it. Do so. I leave this testimony with you in the sacred name of my Savior, Jesus Christ.
May the Lord bless and keep you and shine his light upon you.

Marlena Tanya Muchnick, LDS speaker, author
http://www.jewishconvert-lds.com
http://www.peopleofthebook-judaica.com
http://www.berdichev1941.com
http://comeuntochrist.blogspot.com, http://judaicaworld.blogspot.com

http://judaicaworld.wordpress.com

I guess my conversion started before I met the missionaries. It was on my 29th birthday, and I was very sad. Here I was a single mom of a three year old, living in a room, in someone’s else’s apartment. I was working part-time. I had nothing and knew I was going nowhere in life. I was thinking something had to change. I didn’t like where I was.

The next month I took a second job at a local market. Well, one day when I was leaving, I saw these two young men, standing a few registers over. Something told me to follow them, so I did. I followed them down the street, a cross a busy street, to where I finally caught up to them. I said hello and told them I knew a little bit about their church. They smiled and asked if they could come to my home. I said I don’t know, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. I agreed to have them over.

I didn’t know what was I doing, but they came and left.  I thought, “I hope they don’t come back,” but I made an another appointmen anyway. The second time they came, WOW, a strong presence was there with them. It was amazing.
I continued to take the discussions, but wasn’t ready to commit. During this time I went to church every Sunday. I stopped doing all the “bad” things I had been doing.  I went to every activity. I really loved it. I knew I had found “home”. I finally came home. I finally was baptised three months later.
Though things were hard afterwards, I never gave up and always had a smile on my face. What kept me going was knowing I was loved. I never had that growing up. I never knew I had a Father in Heaven that loved me. It will be fifteen years in December and I love it ever so much.

My husband and I joined the church in 2004. I truly don’t know how we made it through life before joining. Our daughter married an inactive member in 2002. My son in-law’s father gave her a BOM. She called the missionaries and later was baptized. She sent the missionaries to us and well you know the rest. I know with all my heart that this is the true church and that Joseph Smith was a true prophet. It took a while to gain a testimony, but if you read your scriptures and continue to go church and pray i testify to you it will grow, mine has. I am so very thankful for the temple and what it gives to me and how I always feel the presence of HF, JC and the Spirit there. We were sealed together as man and wife and then sealed to our daughter in 2006. Tanya

A Brazilian girl named Taci finds Christ in Mormonism.

Part 1

Part 2

When i was nineteen years old, i met missionaries. They told me about eternal family and my heart just felt something special feeling going through my whole body. They asked me to pray to know the truth. I was kind of afraid that because i was a Buddhist and i didn’t want to deny my god at that time;however, i took their advise and i did kneel down and pray with all my heart. The tears were coming out from my eyes when i said my prayer. I did know the Book of Mormon was true and Joseph Smith was the true prophet of God at that time. After two years, i served my mission in Hawaii Honolulu Mission and i returned home with honor. After many challenges in my life, i finally got married with my sweet heart last April. I know the Lord blesses his children in different ways and i am really grateful for many blessings i have been received.

In the Lord’s Due Time

By Brother Keith L. Brown
First Counselor, Annapolis Ward Bishopric

This sacrament talk was delivered to the congregation of the Annapolis Maryland Ward of the Annapolis Maryland Stake of Zion of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on Sabbath Day morning, 20 April 2008.

In 1 Nephi 19:23 we learn about likening the Scriptures unto ourselves “that it might be for our profit and learning.” With that thought in mind, I would like to turn to the Old Testament book of Jeremiah, chapter 29, verses 11 through 13 and share a few thoughts with you this morning as to how the Scriptures found there apply to my own personal life and perhaps to your own lives as well.

In Jeremiah 29:11-13 we read these words, “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you. And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.”

On March 10, just a little over a month ago, I celebrated my ten year anniversary as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I actually began investigating the Church in late 1980. I had seen several television commercials about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and each one normally ended with how one could obtain a free copy of the Book of Mormon. I have always had a love for books and was always on the watch for any new book of interest that I might be able to add to my small library of books. Having no knowledge of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and having never heard of or seen a copy of the Book of Mormon, I thought that this might be an interesting addition to my library, and besides it was at the right price, free. What I later found out is that the commercials failed to mention one minor detail. Nothing that I can recall was ever mentioned about the fact that two young men, riding bicycles, dressed in suits would personally deliver the free Book of Mormon. I later learned that these young men were missionaries for the Church.

The day the missionaries arrived at my parents’ home were I was living at the time; I invited them in and had a brief conversation with them. I found that some of what they had to say was of some interest to me and so I invited them to return again in a few days when I had more time to sit and talk with them and continue with our conversation. Time went on and after having met with the missionaries for about 5 months, I decided to leave home and join the United States Navy in March 1981. I thanked the missionaries for taking the time to visit me and teach me about what the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints believes and teaches, and promised that I would continue to investigate the Church and its teachings at a later time. At that time I had only read a few passages from the Book of Mormon and though I had found what I read to be of great interest, I placed the book on the shelf in my library thinking that it would make a good reference book and perhaps I would return to read its pages some day.

Moving forward now in time, I found myself in San Diego California where I attended basic training, my first “A” school in electronics, and was eventually assigned to my first ship, the U.S.S. Jouett CG 29. One day while on liberty from the ship I came across a small bookstore. Being a lover of books I decided to go in and take a look around to see if I might find anything of interest. I did not realize at first that it was an LDS bookstore, but it didn’t take long to figure out. I distinctly remember on that visit I purchased several things to include another copy of the Book of Mormon and a set of conference tapes. I would love to tell you that I went back to the ship and spent time listening to the conference messages and reading the Book of Mormon, but that is not the case. In fact, I tucked the tapes and the Book of Mormon neatly away thinking that I would get back to those some day.

In addition to the conference tapes and the Book of Mormon, I bought several other books. The title of one of the books particularly caught my attention that day for whatever reason. The title of the book is “In The Lord’s Due Time”. I still have that book in my personal library. I did not at that time stop to notice who the book was written by or even what the book was about. I would later come to realize that the book was written by a Black Brother of the Church by the name of Joseph Freeman. The name Joseph Freeman is perhaps unfamiliar to most of you, but Brother Joseph Freeman was the first Black to receive the Priesthood following the 1978 Revelation. I thought that was interesting and wondered what was meant by receiving the Priesthood and what exactly a revelation is. Like the other materials that I purchased that day, I put the book away intending to further research the matter at a later time.

As years went on, I decided to begin studying for the ministry. The Baptist church that I was attending while stationed in Norfolk Virginia had its own Bible College and so I enrolled and began preparing to one day become a Baptist minister. During my course of studies I heard, read, and learned about many negative comments about the Mormon Church and why one should not join this Church. I became very well acquainted with anti-Mormon materials through media resources such as video tapes, cassette tapes, newspapers, magazines and the like. For a time, I even communicated through letters with people who had at one time been members of the Church and for one reason or another had left the Church. Though I will admit that some of the negativity sounded interesting, I could not buy into the fact that this Church was all that these folks where proclaiming it to be. I reflected upon the things that the missionaries and I had discussed in earlier years and came to the conclusion that there must be more to the story than these folks that were against the Church were telling, and that there must be some evidence of truth in what the missionaries had taught me. In short, I determined in my mind that I would seek after the truth and ignore all of the negativity.

Let us move forward in time once again. The year is now 1997 and I found myself stationed at a NATO command in Keflavik Iceland. One day as I was surfing the internet in my room, I decided to do a search on the Mormon Church out of curiosity just to see what I might find. I found a link for the Church News and decided to check it out. I later found an email address and decided to send an email to the newspaper inquiring as to the cost of sending a subscription to the newspaper to an overseas location. I received an email back from one of the editors of the newspaper at that time whose name was Doug Osborn. In his email he inquired as to what I was doing in Iceland and what my interest was in the Mormon Church. I sent an email back stating that I was serving in the United States Navy and that I was merely interested in reading about what was going on in the Mormon Church at that time. He emailed me back and said that he thought that was interesting and then he said, please do not be upset with me, and I hope you do not mind, but I have contacted the local missionaries in your area and have asked them to contact you. Partially thinking that I was on a secure NATO base and that the chances of the missionaries being able to locate me was slim to none, I wrote back stating that would be fine. A few days later my telephone rang. I answered the phone and who do you suppose was on the other end of the line? You guessed it, a missionary from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My first question was how he obtained my telephone number. He replied that it was really quite easy, I just called the operator and she gave it to me. My thoughts were, well so much for security. I gave them my address and invited them over.

To make a long story short Brothers and Sisters, I met with several groups of missionaries over the course of about a year. We had many wonderful conversations and discussions about the Bible and the Book of Mormon. At times they were asking me where I found certain Scriptures and would make notes of them. At other times they would call me and tell me that they found another investigator that was also Baptist and asked how I would handle answering certain questions that their investigator had. It became a great teaching / learning experience for each of us.

Finally, in January 1998, I told the missionaries that I appreciated everything that they had taught me and that I would not make a final decision about being baptized until after I had read the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price in their entirety. I believe that the Lord had a hand in that as well as I believe that I was inspired to develop a 40-day reading schedule to complete all of the reading. For the very first time, a little over 17 years after my initial investigation of the Church, and for 40 consecutive days prior to my baptism, I read the Book of Mormon in its entirety, followed by the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price each in their entirety. Having completed all of the reading, I returned to Moroni’s promise as recorded in the Book of Mormon in Moroni 10: 3-5 – “Behold, I would exhort you that when ye shall read these things, if it be wisdom in God that ye should read them, that ye would remember how merciful the Lord hath been unto the children of men, from the creation of Adam even down until the time that ye shall receive these things, and ponder it in your hearts. And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.” After reading those words I knelt beside my bed and asked the Lord to let me know if these things were indeed true. I received my answer, called the missionaries and on the evening of Tuesday, March 10, 1998, I was baptized and became a member of the Lord’s true Church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The rest as they say is history with all things being fulfilled and accomplished according to the Lord’s plans and in His due time.

Brothers and Sisters, I may not know a whole lot, but what I know, I know of a surety. I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord’s true Church upon the earth today. I know that Joseph Smith was and is a prophet of God. I know that the Bible and the Book of Mormon are the Word of God and that both testify of a loving Savior and Redeemer. I know that President Thomas S. Monson is our prophet today and I sustain him as Prophet, Seer, and Revelator as I also sustain his counselors. I also know that our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ holds all of my tomorrows in the palm of His hand. He has already prepared the work that He would have me do in the days ahead, is preparing me to do that work, and will one day in His due time call me forth to accomplish that work. Whether the work will be in a section of the vineyard of this great Stake of Zion or wherever the Lord may call me to serve, I humbly pray that I, like Nephi of old will be obedient to the call and go forth and do those things which the Lord commands.

I close by reading once again the words found in Jeremiah 29:11-13 – “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you. And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.”

God our Eternal Heavenly Father lives and Jesus is the Christ. Of these things I do so testify and bear solemn witness in His Sacred Holy name. Amen.

Jean is from the Congo, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (commonly called Mormon or Mormon Church) in Switzerland, then moved to Ecuador where he married in the temple and served as a bishop.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three