Today while amidst my usual Sunday driving activities, I had a moment of complete and utter contentment wash over me. I often find it hard to describe in tangible words how exactly these moments physically manifest themselves, but let me offer a weak attempt I have assembled over constant edited drafts and conversations. It’s almost like the exact moment you enter a warm building after running through freezing, pelting rain. A giggle gurgles up from the pit of your stomach and a sudden rush of warmth spreads from the fiber of your being outward to your fingertips and toes. The excitement ebbs it’s way through you nearly as quickly as it found you, and you are left with more energy then you began. Unlike a piercing pain in your chest, or a shortness of breath, you can almost miss or completely overlook it if you aren’t paying particular attention.
I can count on one hand the moments I have experienced this feeling. Once shortly after my 11th birthday while walking through a park in the fall, the wind softly whispering, and the sun playing peek-a-boo through tree branches as I tiptoed my way across the leave blanketed ground. A time I heard my best friend sing a note I would have previously associated with dog whistles during her first leading role as Maria in The Sound of Music in high school. The first time a boy looked into my eyes with enough intensity to see straight to my soul and whispered that he loved me for all that I was with everything he had. The sacrament meeting in which I received the gift of my ever constant spiritual companion and friend The Holy Ghost. And this moment, one lazy sunday afternoon on my way to church, when I passed a maroon 1968 Mustang GT Fastback. I don’t mean to promote the idea that I associate cars with spiritual experiences. In fact, in all fairness I don’t know much about cars other then “Oh pretty!” But I always have had a draw to classic mustangs (inherited from father), and seem to have a certain radar ability to spot any that are within a 100ft radius of myself. If you think I’m kidding, try it out on me sometime. It’s scarily uncanny. Anyway, this homing beacon of sorts, drew me to witness a truly tender moment, that inspired what I believe to be moments I directly and certainly feel God’s presence in my life as though He were touching my heart and allowing me to feel the way He loves.
A young father was transferring a boy that couldn’t have been older then 5 from his shoulders to the passenger side seat of this gorgeous little vehicle and buckling him in before tickling him only the way a father can. I saw the little boys arms waiving as he struggled to stop the onslaught attack, and the face of his father: grinning and only stopping when I’m sure the little boy was pleading with him to. He kneeled forward, and kissed him on the forehead and shut the door before jogging to the other side and hopping in. At this point, the impatient little caboose in the lane behind me honked, and I was startled by the change of light as I hastily moved forward continuing on my path. All I could think of, as a grin played across my lips, was: God lives.
I promised you my testimony of how I came to know the true church. And here it is, in all it’s entirety. I’ve taken quite some time in writing it, and I apologize if you find it to be boring and long winded. It’s a combination of retrospective feelings, diary entries, and emails to the first missionary to bring my interest in the church so it’s extensive to be sure. If you stop reading now, I wouldn’t blame you. On a scale of Nicholas Sparks to Tolkien, I’m not John Green. But if you want a little insight on why I know this church is the true church, then I suggest you keep on keeping on.
I first became interested in the Church through the friend of an ex-boyfriend of mine. He is now certainly one of my most cherished friends, though at the time I found him particularly annoying and vain (I’ve never held much tolerance for self importance). We didn’t agree on anything, and he had a fondness to know just how to push my buttons. I did my fair share of button pushing too, in all honesty. I didn’t appreciate his sense of humor, and he didn’t appreciate my lack of admiration for him because of it, so most of our conversations consisted of eye rolls and biting my tongue to keep from saying something that could be regretted later. We had many friendly arguments. After awhile we grew to a certain tolerance of the other. I remember a particular conversation one evening when we drove from swimming with my little and her boyfriend at his apartment in Dallas when we had a deep and telling conversation. It was then I think that we started to become what I would consider to be good friends. I left for school after the summer and we continued conversing occasionally through text or online. One of these conversations he mentioned his decision to leave for 2 years on a mission for his church. The declaration was so casual you would have thought he had decided what he was ordering for lunch. I was floored. We had rarely discussed religion. I had talked about how I disliked organized religion (don’t you hate people that proclaim their disgust of organized religion? They’re the worst.) and all the problems I had with the church I was raised in. I had told him of my college church hopping days, where I was just searching for one place that inspired the aforementioned feeling of complete peace and oneness with God. He had never much mentioned being Mormon, although I knew he was. In our circle of friends, it was clearly evident from the day I first was introduced to them all, that my friend and his younger brother were the Mormon boys. I had never asked him many questions. But now that he had mentioned he was putting his life completely on hold, his school, his addiction to world of warcraft, to spend 2 years sharing with other people how much he loved the Lord, just what he believed, and I had never bothered to ask him about it, I was colored curious. After he left we first very sporadically continued conversation through email in which I would fire off questions, and read about what he was doing and the joy it brought to the people around him. My curiosity soon became a kindled fire.
The spring after my friend left, his younger brother returned from his two year mission. I continued to hang out in the small group of friends that my ex had introduced me to now that I was back home indefinitely and my own friends were scattered across the states. I love those boys like the brothers I never had. Soon we began to become close and had discussed the church and his own mission. I wanted to know everything, hear everything, about what it was like. We cycled through all his photos and talked candidly about all his mission experiences and how his faith had been fortified and strenghten during those 2 years he spent serving the people Honduras. How much he truly loved them. I told him how important I felt it was to always question your faith, as any questions you have upon study will undoubtedly strengthen your faith. Questions lead to knowledge. I remember getting ready to take a trip to Tahoe, and his question to bring a Book of Mormon with me to read on the drive. I live for the written word, and agreed. I will forever be indebted to him for this. What a blessing he has proved to be in my life.
I began reading 1 Nephi on the road throughout the drive up, and remember sheepishly texting him to ask if I could write in it. Once he laughed at my for my silly question and confirmed it wouldn’t be sacrilegious (I was very concerned), I began scribbling questions in the margins. I underlined works I found particularly interesting, and I promised myself that night before I went to bed I would pray. It wasn’t much of a prayer, and was one I had offered up before. I prayed to feel a sense of peace and home if this were what He intended for me.
The day I got back, I texted my friend to see if he would meet with me to begin answering the questions that had rooted in my heart and began to grow in my mind. He taught me the proper way to pray and direct my words, and then told me I should meet with the missionaries. I eagerly assented.
I began my weekly meetings with the missionaries, and this is what happened next. I remember sitting with good friends discussing what they had to give up to be members of the church after my meeting on the word of wisdom and feeling very guilty. This feeling remained with me throughout the week. This week, I wrote my friend on his mission:
What he wrote me next struck such a resounding chord, I felt so silly for not seeing it before. He reminded me that the most ultimate gift I could ever give would always be obedience. How blessed in so many ways in my life I have been. But the only gift my Heavenly Father asks of me is keeping the commandants and showing him obedience. This is a lifelong gift I must commit myself to serving, and the only way to begin is through the first step of baptism. I had heard the missionaries talk about this in other ways. But somehow when I read this, I realized what my next prayer should be. I had prayed to know if what I read in the Book of Mormon was true. I had prayed to feel contentment and peace in my soul. I must now pray to know if I should be baptized in this church, if it is his true church. I prayed that I might have the strength to accept, should the missionaries ask me to be baptized. The next meeting, they did.
I remember the night of my baptism (after a particularly amusing garment story. I won’t volunteer this, as you should ask me sometime.) asking one of the Elders in my first set, how far along he knew I would be baptized. He told me that they knew on my first meeting. That when he came with an Elder from my second set, he told him to ask for a baptismal date the next meeting because he knew I would say yes. That they had felt the spirit so strongly the night of our first meeting. I cried. My bishop pulled me aside and told me that it was clearly evident I was a woman who filled a room with light and love upon entering it. And how happy my Heavenly Father was with me. I cried more. In fact, I doubt I have ever blubbered so much in my life.
I will quote again from an email to my friend about receiving the gift of the confirmation.
“Your father and the Elders were all circled around me. I cried then as Elder Sinclair began speaking. I cried again throughout sacrament meeting as I felt overwhelmed with such love as I have few times in my life. I finally managed to get control of myself, and then a boy named Matt gave his farewell talk as he leaves Wednesday to go on his mission to Mexico. Matt’s talk was fantastic. It was moving, it was passionate, it was well worded, it was funny. But the end hit home in a way few things ever have. Matt came with the Elders on my next to last meeting before I was baptized. Your brother was still here. At the end of Matt’s talk he told a story about me from that night. He looked at me while speaking and said he remembered that meeting so well. How surprised he was when I, not a member, not even baptized yet had said “I don’t understand how you can have a message like this so full of hope, full of love and promise and not want to share it with the world.” As he quoted me to myself, I felt such a warmth in the depths of my spirit that my eyes teared up once more.” ** look at that, more blubbering. Women, I tell you.
Sometimes our promptings are not clanging cymbals or noisy gongs. Sometimes our promptings are whispers, or slight giggles from the pits of our stomachs, or rushes of warmth. I admit, I still struggle with promptings. But when I have these moments, I know with all my heart and mind, that I am where I am supposed to be. This church is the true church. Our Heavenly Father loves us, and wants nothing more than for us to return to be with Him. Through the gift of agency, He expresses this love selflessly. We are given the choice to choose. We can turn away from Him at any time. But when we obey, how happy He is with us. How much love He feels. I am so grateful to feel these moments even if only for small seconds. I imagine in the hours my heart is heavy what it will feel like to experience them for all eternity. To feel His love and be in His presence. And my heart is full. And my mind is at peace. And everything gets quiet. And I know that I am home.
