Part 1
I am three years old. My mother
walks me to the front of the congregation with my sister and brother. It is my
turn first. She whispers in my ear the words to say. I speak them into the
microphone. “I know this church is true. I know Joseph Smith was a prophet. I
know the Book of Mormon is true.” I look to her and she nods in approval.
I am six years old. I walk
nervously up to the front of the congregation with my sister. She sits behind
me. I am at the pulpit. “I know this church is true. I know the Book of Mormon
is true.” I stop, I draw a blank. I look to my sister and ask her, “what comes
next?” Everyone laughs. I hang my head in embarrassment and walk back to sit
with my parents.
I am Eight years old. My parents
tell us before church that they want all seven of us children to bear our testimonies
today. A reward is offered. For me it is easy. I like being in front of
everyone. I know what to say now. I am baptized now, an official member of the
church.
I am twelve years old. I always say
the same things. I wish I could be more interesting. A man tells a story about
a business associate he invited to church. Although he politely declined, the
man knows he is wearing him down and he’ll be baptizing him soon, and his
family too. He is a “golden contact.” A woman cries because her adult-child has
lost their way and is no longer going to church. She is sure that if she
continues praying that her child will return to the true gospel.
I am twenty-one. I am a
missionary (in-training) now. I am taught to bear my testimony in French. I
practice the words. “Je sais que l’église est vrais.” I practice with my
companion. We go to France, we stop people in the street to tell them. We knock
on their doors. We are supposed to ask them to be baptized at our second
meeting. It makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like telling them that Joseph Smith
saw God. My companion doesn’t understand and gets mad at me. I am conflicted.
I am an adult. There is a lot
that doesn’t make sense. I tell myself the gospel is perfect but people aren’t.
I appease myself this way for many years. I rely on my feelings. I want the blessings of the only-true
church. I want to get married for eternity and have children and be happy
forever with God. I follow the rules. I
do what I am asked. I believe. I serve. I wait.
I get married in the temple. We
are sealed together forever. Our parents are proud of us. We have babies. We
bring them to church. We teach them to pray and read the Book of Mormon. I bring
my daughter before the congregation and whisper in her ear.
