I was born and raised in Orem, Utah and baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints shortly after I turned 8 years old. My parents separated when I was 12 years old. My two younger brothers and I stayed with my dad at our house and my mother moved into an apartment only a few blocks away. About 4 or 5 years later both of my parents had re-married and my two younger brothers and I moved to Cedar Hills, Utah to live with my father and new step-mother and her 4 young boys. We would still spend the weekends with my mother and step-father at their small apartment, in Orem. My mother had fallen into complete church inactivity near the time that I entered Primary (about 3 or 4 years old), because she chose to take offence to some gossip about her family, which was going on in her ward at the time. Though I have memories of my mother teaching me how to pray and bear my testimony, at church, over the Primary pulpit as well as memories of discovering my mother on her knees in prayer, in the privacy of her bedroom; her inactivity from the Church gradually weakened her once strong testimony of the gospel and her spirituality faded. This eventually led to the end of our traditional family unit. My father would take my brothers and me to church sporadically throughout the years we were growing up. With spiritually strong grandparents on my father’s side, he had the extra support and motivation he needed to make sure that my brothers and I were baptized and received the priesthood when we turned the appropriate ages. My grandparents did not live nearby and despite their positive influence, most of my childhood Sundays were spent playing tennis at the park or watching movies instead of going to church.
Leaving our home in Orem to move into my step-mother’s basement was one of the darkest chapters of my life. In a time when I thought I hardly knew God, God knew and had a plan for me. I was blessed with a very inspired Young Men’s leader who despite my rudeness and blatant rebellion to him and to the Church, (and to anything good for that matter), would not give up on me. He helped me want to attend church and hate the world a little bit less. Regular church activity didn’t put an immediate end to the anger, frustration, and other mixed emotions I had inside, but there were moments that I would pay attention to the things that were spoken and my heart began to soften and I began to change. About a year and a half later, when I was 17, my father and step-mother purchased a new home back in Orem; a house that was actually almost large enough to hold our mixed family of seven boys plus parents, and I was blessed again to have a very inspired bishop in our new Orem ward.
Near the time of high school graduation my bishop called me in for an interview, which I showed up very late to, but in my mind that man was lucky I decided to show up at all. I’ll never forget the questions my bishop asked me that night. He asked what I planned to do with my life now that I had graduated high school (a feat which I barely accomplished, by the way). None of your business, was my first thought but then I decided there could be no harm in unfolding the brilliant plan which several of my best buddies and I had been putting together months before graduation day. I told my bishop that we had been working hard and saving our money so that within the next couple of months we could road trip to California and rent a house and live (party) there together. I told him that we planned to find jobs in California and had all agreed that we would help support each other. To my complete surprise my bishop didn’t even flinch when I told him this. He didn’t tell me that it was a bad plan or that we were being stupid teenagers or anything like that. Instead he remained friendly and seemed genuinely interested and asked me several more questions to confirm that we had truly planned this thing out in its entirety. Just when I began to relax and think to myself, Wow my bishop actually supports our plan! Maybe I should let him break the news to my parents for me, My bishop asked me one detail which I had failed to consider… “Are you going to continue to pay your tithing, once you move to California?” It felt like I swallowed a bowling ball. I found such a simple question to be completely disarming. I hesitated and then stammered, “I … I … I don’t know”. Before I could say anything more, my bishop reminded me, “You’ve been paying your tithing here. I know you’re planning a budget for California and tithing is something that you should consider.”
I remembered several past experiences with paying my tithing and from those experiences, tithing was something that I believed to be special - but I did not tell my bishop this. “Do you plan to go to church on Sundays in California?” my bishop then asked. “Maybe sometimes,” was the most I was willing to commit to. My bishop continued on to assist me with thinking through my tithing dilemma… Leaning slightly forward, resting his arms on his desk, he looking me straight in the eyes, and asked in a firm voice, “Chad, do you believe that the Church is true?” “Well, I… I think my parents do…” was all I could come up with, quickly looking down at the yellow carpet to avoid eye contact. “That’s not what I asked.” responded my bishop. “I… I guess I don’t know.” I replied and as I said this, my bishop’s question racked my mind. It was a question that I had intentionally avoided thinking about. Part of me didn’t want to know but part of me had a real problem with not knowing. Am I going to pay my tithing or go to church in California? I thought to myself. It was like a puzzle with only a few missing pieces that I needed to solve.
Interrupting my thoughts, my bishop then asked another series of questions… “Have you ever read the Book of Mormon?” this was an easy one I thought.“Yeah, at church we read it.” I quickly replied, slightly offended that my bishop didn’t even realize that I had been coming to his ward and had probably attended his ward more than I’d ever church in any ward before. My bishop laughed and clarified his question, “I mean have you ever read the Book of Mormon, not just read from it, but actually read it cover to cover?” Another bowling ball sank into my stomach. It had never occurred to me before that I had never opened the Book of Mormon outside of church or seminary before. “No.” I said, “I haven’t.” My bishop then asked if he could offer me a suggestion that would help me to know whether or not I should go to church in California or spend my Sundays at the beach instead; whether or not sacrificing a tenth of my paychecks would really be a good idea or not. “After all it’s a lot of money.” he reminded me. “Sure.” I said both interested yet skeptical at the same time. My bishop then challenged me to begin reading the Book of Mormon from cover to cover and to finish it before I left to California. I don’t think my bishop realized what he was asking. I hated reading. At the snail-like rate which I read, this task would take me a lifetime to accomplish! I don’t know if I can even get through much more than a couple chapters before we leave, I thought to myself. Noticing the anxious look on my face, my bishop made me some promises. He said that if I would take some time every day, beginning that very evening, to read the Book of Mormon, I would finish it. Then he promised that once I completed reading it, if I would think about the things I’d read, and then if I would ask God if the Book of Mormon was true, God would answer my prayer. I silently pondered this challenge and promises. For a moment my mind argued with itself about the likelihood that I could actually accomplish this task. “Do you know what it would mean if the Book of Mormon were true?” my bishop asked, interrupting my thoughts again. Maybe if I had been more active in church my teenage mind would have been able to connect the dots, but I was perplexed. My bishop explained the simple logic to me that if the Book of Mormon were true, then Joseph Smith must have been a true prophet and if Joseph Smith was a true prophet then the Church must be true. “If you come to know that the Church is true, then you will know whether or not to continue to pay your tithing and attend Church each week.” I was stunned by how simple that notion seemed and how much sense it made to me. I NEED to read the Book of Mormon! I thought to myself. Three months later, I found myself sitting in a car alone in an empty work parking lot. It was
twilight and I had worked a great deal of overtime that day. I felt so proud of myself for finishing the Book of Mormon, cover to cover, that morning. For the first time in my life I actually understood it! Before then, whenever Book of Mormon stories or prophets were discussed at church, I had no idea what was going on. I had spent the entire day doing mindless data-entry and thinking about what I had read. I decided that tonight I was going to ask God if the book was true. Just as I was about to turn my key to start the car, I stopped and realized that our house is never quiet and peaceful. It’s more like a WWF match, with one brother suddenly bursting into a room at any given moment, chasing another brother around while yelling and screaming and holding a chair, stool, or some other blunt object threateningly over his head. This parking lot is probably the most peaceful place I can be, I decided. I glanced around the parking lot again to make sure that no one could see me and then folded my arms, bowed my head, and closed my eyes. I meditated and thought for a moment more before praying out loud.
I remember the sensation of growing warmth inside of me and of feeling completely at peace. The warmth radiated from my chest throughout my entire body. When I asked God if the Book of Mormon was true, I did not receive a verbal answer but to my surprise I received a very powerful hug. A hug like the bear hugs my Grandpa Day would give me but with such great love and power that I was overcome almost immediately with tears and I dared not open my eyes because I was frightened that I would see my Heavenly Father sitting beside me with his arms wrapped around me. I had never experienced anything like this ever before in my life. It felt so good and so peaceful. Before I left my work parking lot that night I had several stunning realizations. My life would never be the same! I knew the Church was true. I have a lot of changes I need to make, I thought to myself. If God would answer my prayer, God would answer anybody’s prayer! I realized. Other people can know that the Church is true too! Other people need to know! I want them to feel what I felt and I
want to help them. I want to help them right now! It was this same night that I decided that I would not be joining my friends in California after all. Instead, I wanted to serve a mission. Despite my bitter stepfather and some of my “friend’s” attempts to dissuade me from serving a mission, I made the best decision of my entire life and served in the Hawaii Honolulu Mission. My testimony of the church continued to grow as my knowledge of the gospel grew throughout my mission.
I didn’t know everything about the gospel before I left on my mission and I don’t think I know everything today. But I know the Church is true and that is what matters most. I have the rest of eternity to learn everything there is to know about the gospel.
After serving in Hawaii I was a new person. My life took on a purpose. I attended to Utah Valley State College and instead of struggling with my classes like in high school, I received only A’s. I went on to successfully start my own business and marry the gorgeous young woman of my dreams for all time and eternity in the Timpanogos temple. I am so grateful for my mission and for the gospel and the way it changes people. I attribute my every ounce of success I have and will achieve in this life to the blessings that come from living the gospel of Jesus Christ and keeping His commandments. I know the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is God’s true church restored to the earth after a period of darkness and that God continues to speak to us, his children, today both individually and collectively through a living prophet. I know that God hears and answers our prayers and that He will let anyone else know this too if they will put forth the effort to know Him. This is my testimony and story of my conversion and it is my prayer that it may help whoever reads it to know that God knows and truly loves all of his children. Amen.
--CD
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