Fair warning: Mormon content ahead. I don’t apologize for believing my religion, so if faith that is really faith offends you, well…
This past weekend was a momentous one. Brenda, who had been Michele’s friend for ten years, her husband Darrin, and their three children — ages 22, 12, and 9 — were all baptized members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on Saturday. I put that in the passive voice in that sentence to put the attention on them, but I baptized all five of them, and then on Sunday, in front of the congregation, I placed my hands on their heads and confirmed them each a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and conferred on them the Gift of the Holy Ghost.
Michele and Brenda first met at a Mother and Baby class with our same-aged sons. For years they’ve enjoyed each other’s company, and Brenda’s younger two children have been good friends to our similarly-aged ones. Four or five years ago, Brenda was comfortable enough to ask Michele questions about the Church, which she had seen for years from the outside (this is Utah, after all). She and her son attended Jason’s baptism four years ago, and Brenda was very impressed by something she couldn’t describe.
It took her years to build up the courage to come to church with us, to have the missionaries into her home, to consider that she should make some changes in her life that would bring her and her family more happiness. Several times she said, “All right, that’s enough of this Mormon stuff;” every time she did, something happened in her life that drew her back to seeing the hand of God in her life.
Last year, she was upset because of a bad job situation that had become a bad ex-job situation, plus a lingering accident settlement that should have been paid out to the family months earlier. Michele told her about the power of the Priesthood and said repeatedly, “You really should get a blessing.” Michele meant she should come to me or some other Priesthood holder she knew, like our Bishop. Instead, in desperation, she went into the LDS Church Distribution Center (sort of like an official Church-run bookstore) and asked, “Can someone here give me a blessing?” And older gentlemen who worked there talked to her for a minute to find out why she was asking for blessings from strangers, then took her into a quiet room, placed his hands on her head…
Brenda called Michele that afternoon. “This is real! This is really real! How long have you known about this?!”
Michele laughed and laughed and laughed. “Haven’t I been trying to tell you for years?”
Brenda chafed at the months it took for her to be baptized. She couldn’t understand why the missionaries still needed to teach her. “You’ve already told me everything!” she said to Michele, but then she discovered that there were still some holes in her understanding. She had to give up smoking, and worried that she couldn’t guarantee that she would never ever stumble and smoke again; we had to reassure her that, while we don’t baptize anyone who currently has a habit outside of the standards of the Church, no one gets kicked out for stumbling; that’s the whole point of repentance, which we sinners in the Church need at least as much as the sinners outside of the Church. She wanted her entire family to be baptized with her, and initially said, “Oh, don’t worry, if I tell Darrin to get baptized, he’ll get baptized for me;” we had to tell her that, no, if he or any other member of the family gets baptized, they have to do it because they believe and want to take on sacred covenants, not because they want to please or placate someone else.
So the missionaries taught the whole family, and they one by one, from the youngest to the oldest, felt the truth of it. Darrin and Brenda quit smoking together. They started praying as a family. Brenda showed so much faith in the Lord, and so much enthusiasm for serving in and out of the Church, that it put me and most other lifelong Mormons I know to shame.
And finally, the date was set, and they asked me if I would baptize them all.
On my mission, I baptized three single people; since them, I’ve baptized three others, all of them my children. I was honored and humbled to be an instrument in helping them through a spiritual rebirth. I hoped that I would be worthy and in tune with the Holy Spirit, especially for their confirmations, which normally include blessings and counsel as the Spirit dictates.
Both Saturday and Sunday were spiritual highs. Michele cried enough for both of us. And I had it confirmed to me again, through the Spirit and their faith, that I’m a lucky lucky man to have been born in an LDS family, because I don’t think I’d have the wit or courage to choose it as an adult.
Fortuitous (inspired?) timing placed this family’s baptism on the weekend before the Bishop is to leave town for Air Force Reserves for almost all of February, leaving me largely in charge. It was the boost I needed before I took on the added responsibility. As it says at the end of an oft-repeated anecdote in Mormon circles, “It’s true, isn’t it? Then that’s all that matters.”
