Testimony as a process

Our lesson yesterday was from Elder Carlos A Godoy's talk from general conference titled Testimony as a process. It made me give thought to my own testimony and my conversion to the gospel. I grew up in an inactive home. In fact, to this day I'm not really sure if my parents were ever baptized. I'm assuming they have been; I guess I should ask. Anyway, I attended church on and off growing up but my mom always dropped us off and picked us up. I was baptized when I was 10. I'm not sure why or how but I'm sure that the bishop or primary president or someone was looking after me and anxious to get me baptized. I didn't have to take the missionary lessons like you have to these days if you are baptized after the age of eight. To be honest I don't think I knew what I was doing. Not that I regret it...

The next 6 years I spent attending church occasionally and making some choices I would learn to regret. I had all sorts of friends active in the church but being a teenager I found the rules set by the church too restricting so I pretty much stayed away. In 1991 my mom remarried and uprooted our family and moved us to the then small town of Lehi. I tried to rebel in the usual teenage ways but I found that the teens in Lehi were a tad bit more mellow than those I hung around with in Provo. To fit in, I had to be good. Still, I wasn't interested in being churchy. I remember one night siting in the car with some friends when Missy said she wouldn't get married in the temple because her dad couldn't give her away. I agreed and decided I would never marry in the temple either. I met Adam that year but didn't start dating him until May of 1992. Little did I know how my life would change.

Adam and I started dating the end of our Junior year. Adam had been chosen to be on the Seminary council and so I decided that during my Senior year I'd better take Seminary. I was afraid of how it would look if we were dating and I wasn't in Seminary. This is where I experienced my first powerful spiritual experience.

I had never been taught to pray. I wasn't quite sure how to pray. In fact, once in primary the kids laughed at me and my prayer. I never wanted to pray aloud again. So I said my prayers in my own little way. Laying in bed I said something like "Heavenly father, I need help. I want to be good. I want to feel loved." Those are the only things I remember saying. The next morning in Seminary the teacher Brother Anderson was calling roll. He called my name then stopped. "huh'" he said." Angela, I had a dream about you last night." The room full of teenagers giggled and Ooooohed. "no," he continued, "I usually dream about my students when they need help." Looking back I probably should have been embarrassed that he announced my need for help to the whole class. But, it that moment I knew there was a God, I knew that he heard and answered prayers and I knew he was sending me help. I hung on every word Brother Anderson spoke. We were studying the New Testament and I learned to love Christ. I learned that he loved me.

It was few more months after that day before Adam talked me into attending my own ward. At first I would only go to sacrament. Then I added Sunday school. I had a hard time going to Young Women's because I found the girls judgemental and snobbish. I lived in a home where there was drinking and smoking and they all knew it. Eventually I did start attending and my testimony grew.

My testimony was given a jump start so-to -speak but the rest of it was defiantly a process. I learned to pray. I paid my tithing. I read my scriptures. And, my heart began to feel as though it might burst. I knew it was all true. Adam and I grew closer and sadly, I started drifting from my family. Suddenly we didn't have the same things in common and I had a different goal. When it came time for Adam and I to marry there was no doubt where I wanted it to be. I was going to be married in the temple. I know that my choice to be married there was hard on my family. I am the oldest and was the first to be married. My parents were rightly hurt. But...I knew it was the right thing to do.

Over the years the Spirit has given me the occasional whisper to the truthfulness of the gospel. There has been no thunder, no lightening. But many times I have been "pierced to the soul". I have a testimony. I know that our Heavenly Father lives. I know He loves us. He hears us and he answers when we pray. I know that Jesus Christ is our Savior. I know he died for us. I know we have a living prophet of God here on the earth today just as the days of old. I know the Book of Mormon is the word of God, just as the Bible is. It's all true. If you want to know for yourself...all you have to do is ask. I share this with you in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.