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

Alison is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (inadvertently called by friends of other faiths as the “Mormon Church”).

Every member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has to develop their own testimony at some point. My testimony that Joseph Smith is a prophet came when I was 15 years old through the Spirit. I know Joseph Smith saw our Heavenly Father and our Savior, Jesus Christ. I know that he saw the angel Moroni and obtained the gold plates. I know he translated the words on those plates for us today. I’m grateful for the sacrifices he made to bring us another witness of our Savior.

I am grateful to have the witness of Christ through the Book of Mormon. I’m grateful for the continuing revelation Joseph Smith and other latter-day prophets have received for our time.

By Greg R., member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons), and student at Brigham Young University (BYU).

As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (which church is often mistakenly called the Mormon Church), I believe in the power of prayer. I received a twofold answer to a prayer while studying the scriptures and reading Doctrine and Covenants 12:5–6: “Therefore, if you will ask of me you shall receive; if you will knock it shall be opened unto you. Now, as you have asked, behold, I say unto you, keep my commandments, and seek to bring forth and establish the cause of Zion.”

I had been asking for guidance and strength to manage my course load in school at Brigham Young University as I transitioned from serving a two-year mission for my church. Before reading this section, I listed a number of blessings I had seen in my life lately. As I read verse 5, the Holy Spirit came upon me and urged me strongly to pray for this guidance again. I did so, and pled in my heart for a sure direction to take—anything to send me in the right direction. As I listened for the answer, my attention was directed almost immediately to the next verse of scripture. In a dramatic irony that only Heavenly Father can produce in such a moment as this, I read these words after my prayer, “Now, as you have asked, behold, I say unto you, keep my commandments.”

The Holy Ghost witnessed to me strongly that these verses had deep personal implications for me; then and always. I know this answer came from God, directly to my soul through His written word. These are the same words that millions of others have read, yet with the Holy Spirit, they taught me deeply about myself. This was the first part of my answer.

The second part came immediately after the first. I realized that the Holy Spirit directed my focus to the next verse for the answer to my prayer. In doing so, He taught me to keep moving forward in all things. I may never have received that first answer had I kept my eyes closed, hoping and pleading for a dramatic expression of divine revelation. It was in front of my nose, and all I had to do was read. How simple—yet I forget this one lesson so often. I have applied this to my school work with wonderful results. If I am stuck, behind, overwhelmed, or stressed, simply moving forward steadily brings me back around. This revelation to me came after pondering the blessings I have received, reading the scriptures, and praying.

I learned a timely lesson about recognizing the Lord’s voice from Doctrine and Covenants 18:34–36. I had heard this scripture before, but I hadn’t read the verses very closely until I read the paragraph in the Doctrine and Covenants student manual by Elder S. Dilworth Young as he quoted Brigham Young:

In 1835 the Twelve were chosen, as you know, and on one occasion they were called together and given their instructions. Oliver Cowdery was the spokesman; and after having given them some very powerful and heartwarming instruction, so moved was he, himself, that he had to stop two or three times to weep. He finally read the revelation [now designated as section 18].

Brigham Young was so impressed by it that he copied it in his laborious handwriting into his diary. I am impressed by it likewise. These are the words:

 These words are not of men nor of man, but of me; wherefore, you shall testify they are of me and not of man; For it is my voice which speaketh them unto you; for they are given by my Spirit unto you, and by my power you can read them one to another; and save it were by my power you could not have them; Wherefore, you can testify that you have heard my voice, and know my words (D&C 18:34–36).

The thing that impresses me about this is, and I have never thought of it before, when I read a verse in the Doctrine and Covenants I am hearing the voice of the Lord as well as reading his words, if I hear by the Spirit.

Now I have heard it said many times by men that they have often asked the Lord for a special testimony and oftentimes haven’t had it. They seem to want to hear the voice of the Lord. I confess I have often wanted to hear the voice of the Lord, without knowing that all these years I have been hearing it with deaf ears. This woke me up.” (In Conference Report, Apr. 1963, p. 74.)

I too have wanted manifestations of the Holy Spirit to hear the voice of the Lord. I have even had measureable doubt as to if He would speak to me as He spoke to His prophets. Like Brigham Young, I have heard His voice and read His words for years past. My whole life has been filled with the words of God spoken to me. The lesson I learned is that I have been hearing them to some extent with deaf ears. The meaning of “deaf ears” was communicated to my spirit by the Holy Ghost. I hadn’t had sufficient experience for these words to carry enough weight to change me. I have changed through the Spirit’s counsel to my soul to listen with new ears. God’s words are everywhere.

Another lesson in asking and receiving came from Joseph Smith as he and the three witnesses of the Book of Mormon sought for the vision of the brass plates promised in D&C 17:1. It was Joseph’s initiative that left an impression on me. I was surprised to read in the Doctrine and Covenants student manual that he and the three witnesses simply decided on a day to attempt to obtain the promised vision:

Not many days after the above commandment was given, we four, viz., Martin Harris, David Whitmer, Oliver Cowdery and myself, agreed to retire into the woods, and try to obtain, by fervent and humble prayer, the fulfilment of the promises given in the above revelation—that they should have a view of the plates. We accordingly made choice of a piece of woods convenient to Mr. Whitmer’s house, to which we retired, and having knelt down, we began to pray in much faith to Almighty God to bestow upon us a realization of these promises.

I had assumed that the Lord had in some way or another told them when and where and how this vision would occur. It seemed of great enough importance to warrant His direction. Instead, He waited for Joseph and the others to ask Him. This fact should not have come as a surprise, because in every other instance, the Lord waits for His children to ask. The scriptures are full of versions of the phrase, “Ask and ye shall receive.” In fact, that is the phrase that encouraged me to ask and receive the answer to my prayer in the first place. Joseph didn’t receive any visions until he asked God which of all the many churches and sects was true. I cannot expect to receive blessings that I do not ask for. When I do ask, in faith, I receive. The part that stumps me most is knowing what to ask for. It is profound to me that Joseph was so in tune with the Holy Spirit that he knew that it was right and that it was time to ask the Father for the promised vision. I would just as soon not think to direct the Lord as to when I was ready for such an experience, but would wait for the Lord to show me when He thought the time was right. Joseph taught me to be bold in asking for that which I desire in righteousness, in faith, that I might receive; and I will do so.

Additional Resources:

God answers prayers. Learn more at the official site of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (inadvertently called by friends of other faiths as the “Mormon Church“)

The Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ and companion to the Bible. Request your free copy today.

Attend a local meetinghouse.

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.

I knew Joseph Smith was a prophet when I received a spiritual witness of it.

I visited Temple Square this past Christmas. I had never looked at any of the statues they have out, and this year I decided to stop and take a look. I came across Joseph Smith‘s statue, and it just totally took me off guard. I read the caption they had put below [the statue] and the second I read the part that said, “This is my Beloved Son, Hear Him!” I just got all warm and fuzzy inside.

I wanted to start crying. I wanted to just drop to my knees and pray to my Father in Heaven. I wanted my Book of Mormon right then. I knew in my heart this was true. I knew in my heart Joseph Smith restored the gospel. I knew in my heart he saw God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. I became a true and pure witness of Joseph Smith that night. I love him and am ever-thankful and overjoyed for everything he did.

When I was young, not long after I had been baptized at age eight, I kept on having nightmares and couldn’t sleep very well. My mother had a very interesting solution. I would read a chapter from the book of mormon every night and she promised that I would not have a bad dreams.

So I tried it. Every night I read a chapter. I didn’t always understand what I read, but I did it until I was finished.  I was so excited. I ran to my mother and told her that I was finished. She smiled and asked If I had asked God if it was true.  I was stunned. I didn’t know that you had to ask anybody anything about the Book of Mormon. She then told me that it was a promise from God that all who asked would know if it was true.

So that night I asked God in my prayers if it was true. Stunningly, I recieved an answer. I can’t remember it very well; it’s more of a feeling that I remember than anything else — a feeling that it was true, and it stuck with me.

The next morning I remember proudly walking up to my mom and telling her that I knew that it was true. She smiled and told me that it indeed was.

Well, I remember having a conversation with my friend, a Baptist. We were talking about Jesus. Out of the blue, he states matter-of-factly,
“Mormon‘s aren’t Christian.”

I was stunned. My family, all of whom had grown up in the Church, had always talked about Jesus, prayed in His name, worshipped Him, and believed in the Bible and tried to be as Christian as we could be. I looked at him and said, “What makes a Christian?”
He paused. “You believe in Christ.”
I frowned and said firmly. “You know I believe in Christ.”
Certianly, he couldn’t have forgotten that we had talked endlessly about Christ and his teachings. I had always respected his beliefs and I was finding it hard to believe that he didn’t think I was Christian. It felt a bit disrespected.

He paused and then said, “Well…yeah, you do believe in Christ.”
He never brought up the subject again really, I knew that he was sure of one thing, even if he did think I was Christian per say, that I believed in Him.

There was so much involved in the conversion process for me – a girl friend inviting me to early morning seminary — even though I was a member I didn’t have a testimony of the Church or the book of Mormon – what I felt is that God would answer my prayers — and we didn’t even pray in the family — I was a junior in High school — in my heart I wanted more answers to questions — I had — why was I here on earth? Did I have a mission? Would God answer my prayers? Was there more to life than just working, dying and then what? You see I was not active in the Church — I didn’t even attend the church meetings, neither did my family, we didn’t pray at home, we didn’t read the scriptures, we didn’t do anything the active strong members do, except – we were finally letting the home teachers in – and God had sent a great member missionary to our home – Chris S. You see Chris  loved the gospel and he loved us, and more importantly – he loved sharing gospel with us. Chris would come, and I would hit him with a lot of questions, and he would answer them, some he couldn’t answer — no one could, except maybe God.  Chris knew how to pray; Chris – encouraged us to pray; he encouraged us to read the scriptures. I started to do both - I felt God could answer my prayers.

I felt the book of Mormon,  which I started to read, was true. But God had more in store for me than I knew…. Back to the girl friend – she was in my biology class. I kinda had a crush on her but never dated her (missed out there),  but she invited me to early morning seminary — guess what? They were reading the Book of Mormon that year (in seminary, they rotate through all the scriptures in four years, with two years devoted to the Bible).  I couldn’t be left behind in what they were learning.  If I was going to ask questions and learn more, I had to really read it too, so I did.  But that is just part of the story — my dad had to get me to seminary.  He did, but he smoked, and I didn’t want to smell like cigarettes, so I would roll down the window, and he would ask me to put it up, and I said I would if he would not smoke.  So he stopped smoking while I was in the truck, but after, he would smoke again.

I soon started to attend church,  and soon I found out about a Patriarchal blessing – could God really give me some answers this way? I had to find out so I went to the bishop.  I got an interview for my worthiness, and then got an appointment set up with the Patriarch. You see, he could give me a blessing and get some of these questions answered.  So I fasted that day and went to his house – and WOW – this was going to be a great life changing experience.  These questions about my life’s mission and other things to be aware of and avoid and other things to do — these were well-explained to me through revelation from God.  What a blessing!  Six months later I was ordained a priest, and six months later an elder, and six months later I was on a mission to Korea.  Learning and obeying is a life-long experience in the Church. 

It didn’t end there — I was later married in the Provo temple to a great gal from Springville, Utah.   My family could not attend — they were not active and they didn’t have temple recommends.  [You can only attend the temple if you are worthy.]  My parents could only stand outside the temple and greet us when we came out.

Now I have children and grand children.  My oldest was married in the Billings Montana Temple to a strong faithful returned missionary.  She is expecting a second child.  They are strong and faithful members.  One of the most important things you can do is always read the scriptures, attend meetings, and partake of the sacrament, attend to your duties, say your prayers, and really learn how to pray and let the holy spirit guide you.  For young people — get your Patriarchal Blessing.  Go fasting as you do.  Prepare yourself for a temple marriage and most importantly, find a faithful companion who keeps her covenants.

God loves you, and wants the best for you, but you need to continue faithful, obey the commandments, obey the spirit, and be faithful to your covenants and promises you have made, from baptism to the sacrament to the temple.  Daily – hourly – moment by moment – feed your spirit – love the Lord.  Live the gospel to its fullest, and you will be blessed for all eternity.  Catch the vision of who you really are and how you can bless the lives of your family and friends forever! What a glorious full gospel we have.  May you catch the vision and spirit of this great eternal work,  and may god continue to bless you! Roger

On my mission, serving in Tennessee and Kentucky, I learned to respect and not to criticize other faiths. As you know, that’s the location of the highest concentration of Protestant Christians in the United States, so I was completely exposed to it. In the early part of my mission, I didn’t always speak too highly of other faiths, as we ran into hardcore Bible-thumpers on a daily basis that loved to try and argue and bash with us. As the months went on though, I developed a love for the people, despite the fact we were often seen as a threat to various Christian congregations. One of the reasons I developed this love is because I truly came to understand how MUCH all the people loved the Lord Jesus Christ, and how much they trusted in Him and His Atonement, probably a lot more than many members of the LDS church. When we hear the phrase “I’m saved,” we usually think of Baptist preachers, or ministers from some sort of Protestant religion, and it almost has a negative connotation to us, who know that there is more to being saved than just saying “I’m saved.” The fact of the matter is, Jesus DOES save. He IS the Savior. His blood IS what cleanses us from our sins, and HE is the only way back to the Father. The people I met, day after day, believed this. Some may have been more sincere than others, but they still trusted in Him to get them back to heaven. That is the simplest and purest kind of faith, I believe. My view of the doctrine of grace greatly matured on my mission, as a result of meeting tons of wonderful people of different faiths. While we differed on what is is that WE need to do to get back to Heavenly Father, the one thing we could agree on was certainly the most crucial and most important: Jesus Christ is the Savior and Redeemer of ALL mankind. He loved us enough to descend below all things, suffer, beyond human comprehension, for our sins and every infirmity we’ve ever experienced, and then to die on the cross. He WAS resurrected, and He lives today. As Joseph Smith said, this is the fundamental principle of our religion, and everything else in the Church is simply appendages to it.