Finding My Faith - part 4

(this series is turning out to be longer than I expected. I'm almost done though. Thank you to anyone/everyone who took the time to read all of these.) 

On that note...you know the drill. 

part 1

part 2

part 3

The weekend after my first Sunday at Church was General Conference. Instead of going to the stake building to watch it, I decided to stay at home and watch it. Elder Albright was telling me about it and told me to write down questions before hand. He promised me that if I listened and allowed myself to feel the spirit, I would get answers to my questions. And wouldn't you know it, every single one of my questions were answered over the weekend. I mean all of them. Even the extremely specific to my own personal life questions. 

I had also asked Heavenly Father if this was the True Church and should I be converting. The very first (or one of the first, I forget now. Just kidding, it was the fourth speaker, Elder Claudio M Costa) speaker started out with the words "I am a convert to the church." 

Talk about answers to my prayers. I was in the kitchen doing dishes and listening to the live stream on my laptop. I literally stopped everything I was doing and stared at my computer. Did that just happen? I think I even dropped the sponge I had been holding. 

A few weeks passed and I was meeting the missionaries on a regular basis. I really came to like those visits. I learned so much from them and had started reading the Book of Mormon, journaling and praying every night. It was finally working for me and I really liked where I was beginning to go in life. Sure, I had doubts once in a while but they weren't major. 

When the missionaries asked me if I would set a date and commit to be baptized I hesitated. Was I ready for this? I didn't want to take such a big lean before I was ready. For me, it wasn't really a matter of if I was going to join but when. I wanted to be prepared. I told the missionaries and they wanted to set a date anyways and said I could change my mind. They told me to pray about it and read the scriptures for guidance. I did and knew that I would be ready by then. 

I realized I had to tell my mom that I wanted to convert. That scared me. What if she was disappointed at my quick decision? What if she doubted my decision? What if she doubted me? It took me a few days to work up the courage but finally, one night, I just felt the need to tell her. I knew it was time. At first, she was nervous and told me that I had made this decision so quickly and did I want to take more time to explore other religions. In a word, no. I didn't want to look at anything else because deep down I knew that this is where I belonged. In the end, she was extremely supportive. She even insisted on driving out to where I live 2 hours away just to go to the baptism. I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Making the decision was so much easier knowing that I had her support. 

Over the next few weeks I continued to pray, journal, and read my scriptures. Every single day I felt stronger in my decision. I knew this was right. I was scared though. I was scared because I knew the adversary was going to try his hardest to change my mind. I knew he was going to want me to reject the Gospel and return to my old ways. I wouldn't couldn't let him win. Eventually, I had to get my baptism interview. It was cold and snowy when I drove to the chapel after work. I had taken a little extra care to look presentable. I knew that this was a special occasion. A missionary that I had never met conducted my interview and I felt the spirit with me the entire time. We knelt in prayer after the interview and the missionary informed me that I had passed! I was so excited to go and tell my two missionaries the wonderful news. They were just as excited as I were. 

My baptism was ON! :) 

I woke up the morning of and was a nervous wreck. I really hate being the center of attention. I really do. It made me nervous thinking that there were going to be people at my baptism that didn't even know me. Being the center of attention is something I like to avoid. My mom drove to my apartment and then we went to the chapel together. We arrived early and I introduced my mom to the missionaries, brother R and his family, and the rest of the people that were there. 

I changed into the hideous  a white jumper think that the church had on hand. I met my mom and everyone else in the chapel to start the services. Two sisters (whom I had never even met) gave beautiful talks on the Holy Ghost and on baptism. At one point, I nearly started crying because I was so happy. Elder Riley saw it and whispered "it's okay to cry you know". (or maybe it was my mom that whispered that to me? Either way it calmed me down) 

After the talks, we went into the Relief Society room that was attached to the baptismal font. The water was warm an barely reached my waist. I remember walking into the water and everything disappearing. I tried my hardest to remember each feeling and thought that bounced through my head. Brother R said a few words and then it was time. 

Elder Riley baptised me. I don't remember much but I do remember the feeling. It was a deep sense of peace and calm. When I emerged, I couldn't even focus on what Brother R was saying. All I could do was marvel at how wonderful I felt. I got out of the water and went into the ladies changing room. When I closed the door I stopped. I stopped and looked up at the ceiling and said "Thank you. Thank you so much" Those words barely did my emotions justice though. 

I went away that day feeling so at peace. I didn't have an earth shattering moment when I was washed clean. I didn't see God in a pillar of light. I didn't hear his voice. But I did feel the Spirit. I felt Heavenly Father's  happiness at my choices. I knew that I had made the right decision. 

Since that day, my testimony has grown so much. I know this Church is true. I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that he was sent to this earth to restore Heavenly Father's one true church on this earth. I know that I am a daughter of God and that he knows my name. I believe in the Atonement and know that because Jesus Christ died on the cross, I am saved. If I continue to live my life obediently and faithfully and that if I endure to the end, I will move beyond the veil one day and see Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ and all of the amazing saints that have gone before me. 

Finding my faith - part 3

This is the third part to my conversion story! If you missed part 1 go here and if you missed the second part go here :) Thanks dude! 

After a few weeks of prodding (on Elder Albright's part) and lame excuses about 'plans on a Sunday' (on my part), I finally mustered up the courage to go to Church. If we're being honest, one of the only reasons I got up and went was because I didn't want to have to tell Elder Albright that I missed Church. 

Saturday night before I got ready for bed, I called my mom. I had prayed about it and thought about it and wanted to tell her about going to Church. I adore my mom and want nothing more than to make her proud. I have no idea why I was so nervous about telling her but it took me about 10 minutes of staring at my phone's screen for me to actually call her. At first, she was hesitant. She didn't know much about the Church besides what she had heard in the media. I explained that there was not a lot of truth to how the Church was portrayed and that it was really a great and amazing place to be. She had been pushing me to get back to church, any church, for a while now so I think in the end, she was happy that I had finally started the process of finding my own faith. She wished me luck and told me to call her after Church. So now, I had two people counting on a full report on how Church was. I couldn't NOT go again! 

I got up that morning and drove the 10-ish miles to the chapel. I was a nervous wreck. My heart was racing and I was so overwhelmed. When I got there, I actually pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the chapel so I could get some composure and calm down. I sat in the car asking for the strength to walk into that Church even though I was terrified. My social anxiety was rearing it's ugly head. Again. 

Then, I felt this sense of calm. I suddenly knew I could do it. I listened to that little nudge, turned my car on and drove into the right parking lot this time. Getting out of the car and having to endure the 'who's the new girl' stares (I'm sure the stares were all in my mind. I'm certain none of the members were looking at me negatively.) I was awkwardly walking around, hoping I appeared to fit in. I really hate it when all of the attention is on me and I had a feeling that the attention would actually be on me when I didn't want it. 

I (awkwardly again) wandered into the chapel when I (literally) ran into a missionary. Elder Riley was possible the nicest person I had ever met. You could tell he had a strong testimony and a pure spirit right off the bat. He is (was, he's home now) an amazing missionary. I introduced myself and gave a quick recap of how I came to be standing there that day. Elder Riley introduced me to a man (we'll call him Brother R) that taught the investigator classes. Brother R agreed to let me sit with him and his family during sacrament and started asking me questions. I was a little overwhelmed at that moment, but I tried to calm myself down and listen to his questions and answers. Brother R was a really nice man. 

He asked if I would stay for the other 2 hours and I agreed. The entire time I was in Sacrament, I was so in awe. I didn't know what it was then, but looking back I know I felt the Spirit that day. So strongly. Like it was telling me that I had finally found the right place. The rest of Church was great too. I felt a little awkward some of the time but that was my own fault for being so gosh darn shy. Oh well, they loved me any ways! To this day, Brother R jokes about how I just showed up one day and never left! :)

Elder Riley caught me after Relief Society and asked if there was a time they could come over and meet with me. I agreed, of course, and we set up a time for later in the week. I left Church leaving excited and hopeful and all these positive emotions that I had never had before in Church. 

Finding My Faith - Part 2

This is the second part of my conversion story. If you missed the first part, go here. 

So last time, I talked about Amanda and how she introduced me to the Church. I wanted to take a moment in this part to kind of explain my background before I pick up where I left off. I was born and raised in the Lutheran Church. My mom taught Sunday school and took us to church pretty much every single Sunday. Every summer I went to church camp, vacation Bible school, and other church activities. When I was going into the 8th grade, my parents got a divorce. I handled it as well as any 12-year-old could handle it. When people at our church found out they turned on my mother. They said and did some mean and nasty things to and about her. She stopped going. It also turned me off to organized religion as well. I still believed in God and was a very spiritual person. I could never really find a place to belong after I lost my first church home. I couldn't stomach going back there. I couldn't believe in a Church that allowed their congregation to act in the manner that they did. 

I've always had trouble with my faith. My soul hungered for a relationship with God. I knew He was there, waiting for me but I could never really grasp it fully. I'd go through spurts of reading the Bible every day and then not touching it for months. I just couldn't get into it. I could never really feel the Spirit for long periods of time. It was so frustrating sometimes. I wanted this relationship so badly but I couldn't feel it strongly. 

My freshman year of college, I attended one service at a Lutheran church near campus and had a really bad experience. It wasn't really negative, but it wasn't positive either. Not on person said anything to me. Not even the pastor. I didn't feel very welcome. Once again, I was disappointed in organized religion and stopped searching. 

So, back to the night I found the Missionaries. After a few technical glitches, I found myself talking to a missionary named Elder Albright. His passion about the Gospel really impressed me. He was patient with me from the very first time we spoke. I don't remember what he taught me specifically on that first night but I do remember praying for the first time in a very long time and it finally feeling right. 

Over the next few weeks I quietly began learning from Elder Albright, talking with him online for an hour at a time and finally finding peace. Finally, one day, he asked me if I'd like to get a visit from the Missionaries in my area. I agreed. Then, I got cold feet. I was living with 3 girls at the time and I was afraid of what they would think if they came home and 2 missionares were sitting with me. At that time, my faith was beginning to grow but it was still very fragile and I admit I was afraid of what people would say. I was afraid that my faith couldn't take the challenges I knew my roommates would throw my way. I was still in that 'I don't know if this is the one true Church' phase. I decided to ask them if we could meet at the Church building instead. They agreed and set up an appointment. The day came and went and I chickened out. I didn't go. I ignored the Elder's phone calls. I'm really ashamed of the way I acted but I was scared. I was scared that I was going to be faced with spiritual disappointment once again and I didn't know if my faith could withstand another disappointment. 

I also started to ignore Elder Albright and even Amanda. I had told her about my investigating the Church and she was ecstatic. I've made some pretty poor decisions in my life, but this one took the cake. I shut down over the next few weeks and refused to listen to what my heart was telling me. I refused to listen to the promptings. 

That summer, I went to Boston with my sister and mom to visit colleges for Kelly. We stayed outside of the city and drove in when we had college visits. Every single time we drove in and out we drove right past the Boston Temple. Every time, my heart tugged in a way that I didn't really understand. I began to think about what I had learned and how right it had felt. I began to think about the missionaries, Elder Albright, and Amanda and how poorly I had treated them weeks before. 

I didn't have one of those huge, inspired, 'ah ha' moments. I didn't even have one of those quiet realizations while I was deep in prayer. It was just something I felt. I couldn't get the Temple off of my mind. 

When I got back from Boston, I emailed Elder Albright and Amanda and apologized for how I had acted and tried to explain myself. I was so happy that neither of them were mad at me and quickly said they were happy that I was back asking questions. Elder Albright began to teach me again. Amanda and I started to catch up again. I was still to chicken to meet with the missionaries in person though. In August, I moved into my own apartment and finally felt free. I began learning from Elder Albright more and more and he had started to encourage me to go to Church on Sunday. 

Go to Church? All by myself? To a place where I knew no one? I'd done that before and it had crashed and burned. Again, I was afraid that my faith couldn't handle another disappointment. 

Finding My Faith - part 1

This is going to be the first of a few posts...a series, if you will, about how I came to know about The Restored Gospel, Heavenly Father, and his plan for our salvation here on this earth. I've wanted to get this written down for a while and I figured I'd start now so I won't forget again. 

I can remember driving down Woodward as a kid and thinking to myself 'wow, that's a really pretty building' as we drove past the Detroit, Michigan Temple. I had no clue what it was or how precious it would become to me. All I knew is that I got this sense of wonder and awe every time I drove to work with my mom and we passed the building. 

Flash forward to my senior year of high school. I'm in Mr. Chandler's 3rd hour (maybe it was 4th but I think it was 3rd) AP US History class. I was a shy kid and tended to keep to myself, so I didn't really have that many friends. By sheer luck and chance I ended up choosing a spot next to a girl named Amanda. She was quiet and reserved like me and we hit it off right away. I got to know Amanda and got to know what was happening in her life. In December, she met a guy. I still remember hearing her tell me the story of how they met at her uncle's Christmas party and how she had gotten into a fight with her mom or something and this boy offered to give her a ride home. He was a member of the Church and soon enough they were dating and he was taking her to Church. 

I graduated and we lost touch. I was 3 hours away and she was still in high school. I went through a lot of heavy stuff my freshman year and got pretty lost for a while. I made some bad decisions and was in a really dark place for a while. I didn't really have any hope at that moment and felt so far away from God that I often wondered if I would ever be able to find my way back into his presence. 

When she was 18, she was baptised and applied to BYU-I. I was shocked when I heard that she was going to school in Idaho. Over the next few months I watched (via Facebook creeping) as she grew and blossomed into this amazing, strong young woman. Somewhere deep inside, I knew it was The Church that was responsible for her happiness. 

Why am I telling Amanda's story in a story that is supposed to belong to me? Well, Amanda's story is linked to mine.  I watched a girl do something that I could never dream of doing at her age. I watched her meet her husband, fall in love, and get married. I regret not going to their reception in Michigan to this day. 

Flash forward again to 2 summers ago (2009) and I'm doing my homework late one night at school. I'd always been intrigued by the LDS Church and had been wandering over to lds.org for a few months before and was curious. I hadn't really done more than look at the front page, wonder a little, then stuff the wondering feeling into the back of my mind and continue about my day.

So, back to the night at hand. I was seriously avoiding doing my homework and was just staring at the lds.org homepage. I noticed a little sidebar that said 'chat with a missionary'. That really had me wondering. My mouse hovered over the button as I contemplated clicking it. Should I do it? What would it really be like? What would happen if I talked to them? Questions zoomed in and out of my head as I suddenly felt this intense urge to learn more.

I clicked it and that one little leap of faith ended up changing my life.