Why I Joined the Mormon Church, Page 2

Why I Joined the Mormon Church, Page 2

 

 Having grown up reading the Bible and faithfully attending church three times a week, camp meetings in the summer months and special church services along the way, as well as traveling with three different gospel singing groups throughout my young life, and having attended Lee College, a church college in Tennessee for a short period of time . . . well, I thought I had, if not all, most of the knowledge I needed to sway religious doctrine to my way of understanding.  I was quite feisty and fearless in my defense of my religious beliefs and I would, and often did, take on anyone desiring a good drubbing.
 

 I was sure I would be able to persuade my new husband to my way of thinking.  I visited the library and brought home anti-mormon books.  I raised many arguments as to why his church was considered unchristian, even a “cult.”  Our first few months of marital bliss had turned into marital blisters.  The friction between us over our religion threatened to end our union as seeds of doubt as to whether we should stay married made its way into our minds.  I had my gloves on, my defenses were high  . . . until the day I heard the voice of God, either his voice or that of one of his servents, I know not, but I heard a voice.

 

In the meantime, Steve and I prayed together.  I did realize that we were praying to the same deity.  People from the mormon church gave us a lovely reception and stopped by to see us and wish us well.
 

 Not willing to admit it, I was not happy with the Church of God.  I was witness to bickering and back biting.  Scare tactics and threats were used by the minister to try to reign in his congregation.  Confidences were broken and used to cause speculation among the members.  I loved the members and had many friends there but what finally took the cake was an announcement made by the minister that the head of  our gospel group, The Bread of Life Singers, which was anchored in this church, would be leaving.  Next the minister planned a farewell party for him and The Bread if Life Singers.  In reality, our group leader had never announced that he was leaving.  I was in disbelief of what I was hearing and many were astonished at the announcement.  I was later to learn that the minister felt that too many people were not showing up at his services because they were following our singing group to their different performances and he just wanted us gone.

 

I know that God has a plan for all of us and sometimes he allows things to happen in our lives that, although hard at the time, brings us blessings and great joy.  He sometimes removes obstacles from our way to make room for the gifts he has created for us.

 

Soon after we were married, the arguments would ensue.  Whose church were we attending this Sunday?  There was something so special about Steve that it wasn’t long before I realized he was the way he was BECAUSE of his religion not in spite of it.  His honesty and integrity impressed on me that it came from his inner core that had develped from the teachings of his church and good parenting.  There was a special light resonating from him that I recognized as the light of Christ and so I started searching for answers.  I prayed fervently for answers.  I asked God to help me decide which church was His church.  I had so much turmoil going on inside that there were times when I would ask Steve to excuse me so that I could pray and be alone with God. 
 

When I was a little girl, my grandmother Sadie was my best friend.  When I was five, she was five.  When I was ten, she was ten.  As I grew into my teens I confided in her as to the type of man I wanted to marry.  I wanted to be a minister’s wife.  I wanted to marry a man of God. 
 

Shortly before I met Steve, my grandmother Sadie died of a massive heart attack.  He never had the chance to meet her.  As I was contemplating whether or not I should marry Steve, she whispered into my heart, “he is the one.”

 

I knew that my grandmother would never lead me astray.  I continued to pray for clarity of choice.  I made the decision to attend church with Steve and to find out on my own accord what was “wrong” with the mormons.  A mysterious thing happened though; every Sunday morning for several weeks in a row, our car wouldn’t start, neither one of them!  On the one Sunday when one of them did start, we didn’t get further than a couple of hundred yards from our house when the engine stalled.  Steve had gone to get gas and instead got a tank full of water.  It was just one thing after another after another.
 

At this point, I was really confused.  I could not for the life of me discern whether God was trying to keep me from going to the mormon church because it was “of the devil” or Satan was trying to keep me from going to the mormon church because he was trying to keep me from discovering a “true church of God”!

 

to be continued . . .



Why I Joined the Mormon Church, Page 1

My conversion to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day  Saints began in July of 1981 when I first met my husband, Steve.  I had heard of the mormons, had been indoctrinated to believe that they were a cult, but had never met a real live mormon in person.

 

As a member of the Church of God, a charismatic   pentecostal religion, I had joined a gospel singing group called The Bread of Life and traveled frequently from church to church singing and worshiping with a variety of congregations.  On my way home from one of my singing engagements, I stopped by a convenience store to buy a late dinner and that’s where I met my future husband.  I was not traveling alone.  I had our alto singer with me.  As we sat eating in my car, we noticed a hungry little kitten near Steve who was sitting on a cinder block wall inhaling ice cream with his nephew and friend and they were not sharing! So, Jamie and I got out of my car and took some food over to the meowing little fur ball.  

 

That’s where my journey towards mormonism began.  Steve was extremely handsome with large biceps bulging from beneath his white velour polo with black trim.  He had dark curly hair, hazel eyes with the longest eye lashes I had ever seen and a winning smile.

 

 A long conversation ensued after lecturing the boys for not feeding the kitten.  Upon learning that Jamie and I had just come from a church service in their neighborhood, the conversation turned almost immediately to religion.  I had dated a lot of guys, some of them pastor’s sons, but there was something very different about Steve.  He was all entwined in sweetness, confidence, purity, maturity, humbleness, sincerity and knowledge—knowledge of the scriptures and life.  He seemed far beyond his years.

 

As I conversed with Steve and bantered with him over religious beliefs, he agreed to attend the next church service where we would be singing in just a few days.  I thought that night would be the last time I would ever see him but to my great surprise, he showed up, walked down the isle to where I was sitting and confidently seated himself right beside me with his Book of Mormon in tow.  Now I had been taught that mormonism was “of the devil” so I was embarrassed that he had brought his Book of Mormon with him and asked him to place it where it would be less noticeable.

 

Our relationship progressed rather quickly and although I was rockily engaged to another guy, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Steve was the person I was supposed to spend the rest of my life, even eternity, with.  Two and one half weeks after our first meeting, we eloped.

 

 

to be continued . . .

        

Teacher, Do You Love Me?

 

 

 

TEACHER, GO YOU LOVE ME?

 

 

 

      A number of years ago a little nine-year-old boy named Mark moved into the ward with his parents.   He started coming to primary.    It wasn’t long, however, until a serious problem had developed.   Mark disrupted his class so much that no teacher would stay with the class more than a few weeks.

After a few months of frustration, the Primary president prayed about the matter and felt impressed to ask the bishop for a release so she could teach Mark’s class.   Together they prayed and fasted, and then the bishop released her to be the teacher of the class Mark was in.

Sister Olsen was a very experienced, capable teacher, and she entered Mark’s class with considerable preparation and prayer.  But within minutes, the generally well-behaved children were whistling, jumping over chairs, kicking, spitting—doing everything Mark was doing.

When she went home that night, she told her husband that she had made a mistake.   She couldn’t handle the class.   If it kept up, she, too, would have to quit.   Her husband listened to her tale, then challenged her to try a little harder.

Weeks went by, some better than others.   At times Sister Olsen felt encouraged when she could give part of a lesson before Mark ruined it.

Then one day, at the end of a lesson on love, she told each child that Heavenly Father loved him and that she did too, putting her hand on each small head.   But Mark would have none of it.    He jumped up screaming, “No you don’t! You don’t love me! Nobody does!” Then he ran from the room.    She managed to hold together until all the children had left; then she sat down and cried.    She knew deep down that she didn’t love Mark. She tolerated him, but feelings of love had never really grown.

She began anew.   She worked and prayed and fasted some more.

She talked to Mark after Primary one day.  “I love you, Mark.   You don’t have to love me, but I love you very much.”    He didn’t say anything, but walked away.          She wrote a special letter telling his parents some of the things she liked about him.    She took pictures of all the children in class and put them on a poster with a brief comment about each child written below each picture.   She asked Mark to help her return supplies to the library. She sent him a birthday card, signed with her name and the words “Mark, I love you.” She arranged to be where he would be and said hello and visited with him briefly.   She did everything she could to let him know she loved him.

The love she had developed for Mark started to make a difference.   Eventually things changed in class. He was her ideal student.

Then one spring evening Mark came running to her home and flew into her arms sobbing, “Oh, teacher! My folks are moving and they say I have to go too!   What am I going to do?   Who will love me now?”

She waited until his sobs died down.   Then she took his tear-stained face in her hands and said, “Mark, I want you to always remember one thing. Heavenly Father loves you.   And no matter where you go, he will always love you, and there will be a Primary teacher waiting who will love you just as I do.”

Mark did move.  Three years later the teacher answered the telephone and heard a voice on the other end say, “Teacher, do you love me?” It was Mark.   As the years passed, the bond between Mark and Sister Olsen deepened.   And every Mother’s Day Sister Olsen receives a card on which Mark has written, “Teacher, do you love me?”  ( Taken from the March 1986 Ensign.)

 

     The Following is from the LDS Children’s Hymnbook:
 

 Teacher, do you love me?

 

Teacher, will you care for me?

 

Even if I turn away, or disobey, or go astray,

 

Then will you love me still?

 

 

Oh yes, my child, I love you.

 

My child, I’ll always care for you.

 

And with the Savior as our guide,

 

I’ll share the light I feel inside,

 

And you will feel his love for you.

 

 

Teacher, will you teach me?

 

Teacher, help me choose the right.

 

When I do not understand the Lord’s command,

 

Please take my hand

 

And lead me safely with his light.

 

 

Oh, yes, my child, I’ll teach you.

 

My child, I’ll help you choose the right.

 

And when you do not understand

 

The Lord’s command, I’ll take your hand,

 

And he will lead us with his light.

 

         The following is from the conference talk, “Help Them on Their Way Home” by Henry B. Eyring:

 “We help God’s children best by providing ways to build faith in Jesus Christ and His restored gospel when they are young.

I speak today of young people already within His true Church and so are started on the strait and narrow way to return to their heavenly home.   He wants them to gain early the spiritual strength to stay on the path. And He needs our help to get them back to the path quickly should they begin to wander and then we must help rekindle that faith quickly before it dims.

Foreseeing the needs of His children, a loving Heavenly Father placed directions and rescuers along their way.   He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to make safe passage possible and visible.   He called as His prophet in these times President Thomas S. Monson.   Since his youth President Monson has taught not only how to stay on the path but also how to rescue those who have been led away into sorrow.

Many bishops in the Church are inspired to call the strongest people in the ward to serve individual children in the Primary.   They realize that if the children are strengthened with faith and testimony, they will be less likely to need rescue as teenagers.   They realize that a strong spiritual foundation can make the difference for a lifetime.

So you and I can expect a nearly continuous opportunity to help travelers among God’s children.   The Savior told us why that would be so when He described the perilous journey home for all of God’s spirit children through the mists which sin and Satan create.” 

Brothers and sisters, primary  is a place very close to my heart.  Our children are most precious.  They bring us joy, make us laugh, remind us the pleasure of simple things, they refresh us, they touch our souls with their purity, they teach us how to love and reopen our eyes with their innocence.  I wish they came with a stamp on their foreheads that reads “handle with care.”   But they don’t, so we must always remember that they are tender and fragile.

        Mosiah 3:19 reads, “For the natural man is an enemy of God, ahd has been from the fall of Adam, and will be forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.”  When Jesus appeared to Nephites, he was moved with compassion as he beckoned to his people in 3 Nephi Chapter 17, starting with verse 23, “Behold your little ones.  And as they looked to behold they cast their eyes towards heaven and they saw the heavens open, and they saw angels descending out of heaven as if were in the midst of fire; and they came down and encircled those little ones about and they were encircled about with fire; and the angels did minister unto them.”

Twenty-three years ago I was asked to give a sacrament talk about primary.  I searched for a verse or poem that would express my feelings about the children but could not find one, and so I penned the following:
 

                            PRIMARY GUEST
 

As I hurried to primary one Sabbath day,

 

I took a moment to stop and pray.

 

“Father, thy will be done

 

To inspire and teach thy little ones.”

 

And then, as I opened the primary door

 

The room seemed brighter than ever before.

 

I gazed upon the Sunbeams, Merrie Miss, the Stars,

 

The Blazers, Valiants and CTR’s.

 
 

Their faces were shining, their eyes were bright.

 

Yet, it didn’t explain that brightness of light.

 

I looked upon the children once more,

 

And there sat a child I’d not seen before.

 
 

He was a humble child—his countenance gleamed!

 

I wondered if he was the source of that brilliant bright 

             beam.

 

The children sang, their voices ringing;

 

I thought I could hear angels singing.

 
 

We moved into our classroom, then

 

And began to surround our newfound friend.

 

As I turned to the lesson, chapter three,

 

This precious boy inquired of me.

 

May I take a few moments to speak to you?

 

I’m doing what my Father has sent me to do.

 

 

The words he spoke were so wise and so pure

 

We learned more that day than ever before.

 

He taught of the things that would lead us to heaven.

 

Things far beyond a boy of eleven.

 

I began to wonder, could this really be?

 

Then I heard a voice say “yes” to me.

 

You have been taught by the Christ Child today.

 

As I looked up, he smiled, and then vanished away.

 

--Donna Masten

 

       Brothers and sisters, it has been said that, “A teacher affects eternity, she never knows where her influence stops.”   Can you just imagine having the child Jesus among your students?   I would like to think that every child deserves that same consideration and if we let them, they will teach us.

I feel it a privilege to work with two stalwart and committed women, Sister Newton and Sister Lee.   Together, as a presidency, we want the very best for our primary children.  We love them and we will serve them. 

We want our teachers to know just how important they are to the children in their charge.  The children may not be able to yet express in words what you mean to them but you are special in their world.

        You are teacher, exemplar.  They watch everything you do and hear what you say.   They notice what you are wearing and even what color finger nail polish you may have on.  They worry about you when they don’t see you on Sunday.  They know you care about their boos  boos and new shoes.  If you take time to listen, they will tell you stories and share their dreams.  They will color special pictures for you to hang on your refrigerator.  THEY LOVE YOU.  Teachers, do you love them?

 

 

My Son, My Miracle Page 22

Jared's mom pours her heart out in a letter to the President . . .

My Son, My Miracle Page 21

Donna writes letter to President Bush . . .

ROASTED VEGETABLES

With fresh vegetables coming on in abundance, this is a delicious way to enjoy a variety of colors and flavors.  I made these for dinner tonight.  My husband and daughter said, "We should have these every night!"  I always try to save some for leftovers for my lunch but there are never any left over!

Pictured are brocolli, baby carrots, vadalia onions,

red peppers, and yellow squash.

Left click  on recipe to view a larger more readable version.

Then, to print, right click.

My Son, My Miracle Page 20

Jared's mom gets into a little "scuffle" with a nurse . . .