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Paulo Neves - my conversion to the Mormon Church by staff
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Patrick Loss by staff
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Nathan Gwilliam: Why I Believe in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints by staff
Being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormon Church or LDS Church)is not easy. We pay tithing, attend at least 3 hours of meetings on Sundays, obey the law of chastity, don’t drink alcohol or smoke, visit other members each month, and serve in volunteer church assignments. How then can we explain how this Church, which requires so much from its’ members, has grown to nearly 13 million members since the Church was established less than 180 years ago?
At any given time, there are more than 50,000 full-time Mormon missionaries serving around the world. These are young men and women who are generally 19-23 years old who leave their colleges, jobs and loved ones to volunteer to teach the gospel of Christ. These missionaries do not date, watch television or go to the movies on their missions. Missionaries and their families generally pay for their missions, and many missionaries contribute to a fund to help support missionaries who do not have the financial resources. These missionaries work about 12 hours a day, 6 1/2 days a week. They often serve in third world countries and live in very meager circumstances among the people they are teaching. Where else in today’s world can you find 50,000 young men and women who are willing to sacrifice so much at a young age for their faith?
However, I do not believe the LDS Church is the restored church of Jesus Christ because others believe. James 1:6 says “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not and it shall be given him.” I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is true because I have put this promise from God to the test. I have asked Him, and I believe because my prayer was answered, and continues to be reaffirmed on a regular basis.
Matthew 7:20 says “By their fruits ye shall know them.” In other words, the Lord has given us a mechanism to know whether the Mormon Church is of God or not. If the fruits (results of Church teachings in the lives of its’ members) are good, then we can know that the tree (Church)is of God. I have observed how the lives of many individuals and families change for the better when they join the Church and live its’ teachings. I have seen families and marriages strengthened. I have repeatedly observed that lasting joy and happiness are the results of living the teachings of the LDS Church.
The Mormon Church is lead today by prophets and apostles, as in Biblical times. Knowing there are living apostles and prophets on the earth today is crucial because there is so much confusion in the world about Christian doctrines. Why would God want us to be confused? The Bible clearly shows a pattern of God calling prophets, revealing his truths to the prophets, and then the prophets teaching those messages to the people. Amos 3:7 says “Surely the Lord God will do nothing, but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets”. If God followed that prophetic pattern for thousands of years, why would he not have prophets and apostles today? Aren’t the wickedness, confusion and need for a prophet just as great or greater today than ever before? I know that God leads His Church on today through modern prophets, just as he did anciently.
I began by saying that being a member of the Mormon Church is not easy. It is not easy from a perspective outside the Church. However, I do not feel that the responsibilities involved in being a member of the Church are very hard. The Savior said in Matthew 11:28-30, “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me… For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” The requirements of being a member of the LDS Church are not a burden because we know that this is the Church of Jesus Christ. They are the wings that give us the freedom to attain the Celestial happiness that a loving Savior and Heavenly Father desire for us.
I know that Jesus Christ is my Saviour for I have felt the power of his atonment in my life.
I know these things are true. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
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Malcolm Leal by staff
I was born and raised in Cuba, in a small fishing town 50 miles east of Habana. I was raised primarily by my great grandmother. She was, without a doubt a remarkable woman. By the time I was born she was in her 80’s. She believed to be born around 1898 although she had no birth certificate to prove it.
She was a natural entrepreneur and inculcated in me a spirit of sacrifice, honesty and self sufficiency that is still with me to this day. She was also instrumental in exposing me to the Gospel, which in itself is all together a miracle. Cuba has a Roman Catholic religious tradition with very strong African religious rituals and practices. She rejected those traditions all her life. She discovered “her God” in the pages of an old battered bible left behind in the 19th century by a plantation owner. There she found Isaiah and the promise of the Temple to ALL people. There she found and understood the coming forth of Christ and the Atonement, the true nature of the Trinity and the absolute need for baptism. For more than 40 years in Cuba we have been enslaved by Communism and cut off from the world. We had no idea about the Restoration.
She spoke and read to me of “her God” as if she had a relationship with Him like none I knew. The same God gave her dreams about impending floods, hurricane and insect infestations that threatened our town. The same God showed her that “there are men on the earth that walk with God and He hears their prayers like onto Moses.” She was convinced that we were born in the wrong country but with faith one day I would find them.
I joined the Cuban army at age 17. I wandered the jungles of Central and South America, the Savannas in Central Africa and the barren deserts of Ethiopia as a military intelligence officer. I witnessed unimaginable brutality and carnage in the name of country and a doctrine based on repression and fear. Many of my friends died. But the hand of the God of my grandmother shielded me, protected me and comforted me through those years of nightmares and despair. I made my way to America in 1990 and my grandmother died in 1995 just two years before I found the church and the truth that I sought for so many years.
In 1988, while on a mission in the highlands of Honduras I was shot in the head by a sniper. What follow is a true account and my testimony of what transpired:
The next moment, as if in a dream, my head exploded, jerking my cervical spine upwards, in a counter clock motion. And then there was silence. Nothing but the dark, bottomless, and insipid silence that accompanied the fall of my body to the muddy ground two feet below. It seemed like two miles.The report of the weapon fired across the gorge registered in my traumatized brain a full two seconds later. It sounded far, like a distant echo of thunder. I laid face down, my mouth quickly filling with the unsavory mix of my own blood and the clay and grass of the flooded valley floor. I laid there, my brain in shock and unable to process any of the higher motor functions.
I could hear my own breathing, fast, labored, insufficient with blood gurgling in my throat. After a few seconds, or minutes, the realization of my impending death sparked through my consciousness like lightning. I was dying. I lay there broken, unable to move for what seem like a lifetime. I sobbed quietly, helplessly.
I lost all sense of time as I waited for the sniper to return. Occasionally they do. They come close to “confirm the kill,” they come for a souvenir. After all, he’d been hunting me for a few days. He never came, fearful perhaps of being caught in the open and alone by a larger enemy group. If he felt safe, he’d have watched the fallen prey for half an hour or so, observing for signs of life. He was convinced I was dead and I believed it myself. Most people have never truly and intentionally considered what happens to human beings when they know that their lives are certainly about to be over—especially if there’s no prolonged illness or chronic condition. Popular media has attempted some romanticized interpretation of the pre-death experience. I haven’t seen a convincing one.
Fear. Overwhelming and undiluted terror seizes you. The realization that, conclusively, in just seconds you’ll stand face-to-face, eye-to-eye with the God of the universe is a frightening experience without equal. For me, the thought of being under the all-searching eye of God wasn’t appealing. Not on account of my life.
The fear and apprehension that gripped my entrails, the physical pain that accompanied that moment of despair had no parallel in my life’s existence. I had no words, no explanations, and no excuses. I wasn’t ready to die but I couldn’t escape what seemed the unavoidable outcome of my injuries.
I sobbed, quietly at first, the pain and fear intensifying every minute with the decrease of my physical strength due to the loss of blood. I cried bitterly like never before or since.
I thought of my grandmother. What would she have me say? What could I say to her God? Life, mine at least, seemed distant, disconnected, and almost like a dream. It occurred to me then that I’d wasted my life. For all my accomplishments, scholastic and military, the painful fact remained that nothing, absolutely nothing I’d done at that point was of any real relevance. There was nothing in my life that had been noteworthy. There was nothing that could transcend time and impact others. In fact, away from a few trinkets stored at home and a few black and white photographs in serious peril of extinction, there was no evidence of my existence.
I’d spent my life and time on the earth in a useless and futile struggle. I’d exhausted every opportunity and hour “in the endless game of nothingness,” like Grandma used to say.
I’d seen it before. A “political officer” went to the home of the fallen soldier early in the morning, then read or rehearsed a script about “patriotic duty, heroism, and invaluable service to the country” and so on. It was some meaningless rhetoric designed by someone who had no children, at least none that were in harm’s way, none that had died in a dark and lonely jungle.
“What do I do, Abuela?” I asked myself, my voice barely audible.
I knew what I needed to do. The “how” was the dilemma. Speaking to God has always been a serious, quite involved process. First, there was the issue of, what do you say to God that He already doesn’t know? For me, there was always a certain amount of trepidation in approaching the God of the whole creation.
“Son, we don’t deserve to be heard, but He does,” Grandma used to say. “Humility is the key. Be aware that we’re unworthy of His attention and His care but He offers it to us nonetheless.”
I remembered. Amidst my tears, my fear and sorrow, I remembered.
I spat the blood and mud from my mouth and twisted my body painfully, slowly to face heaven. I cried some more.
“God of my grandmother. I know You can hear for my grandma says You can hear even the creatures that creep in the grass. I’m about to die and maybe I deserve to die; only You know that. I won’t tell You of the things I’ve done wrong for You know them all, God. I pray to You today so that You may be merciful to me. I pray that You may forgive me of all my sins, that You may not look at them anymore, God.”
The wind and the rain abated for a few minutes. The treetops danced softly in the warm breeze as if unwilling to interrupt my prayer. Now and again I could see the stars in the sky in between the dark clouds that rushed across.
“God of my grandmother, I know about and I believe in You because I’ve seen the things that You have done for my grandma. Even if You won’t do anything for me, I believe in You and everything Grandma has taught me about You. She says You’re a God of miracles and I believe. I know that You sent Your Son Jesus Christ to be killed for our sins. I pray today, God, that You will forgive me because of Your Son, for then He also died for my sins. Yours is my spirit and You will be my God. I pray to You today that though I have nothing left and am about to die, the sound of my voice remains here on the earth even though my sprit leaves. But I say this before I die so that You know that I believed in You before I saw You in Heaven, God.
“Take me then, God, and don’t let me suffer any longer. Comfort my grandmother, God, for she is old and she loves me. Help her, God, that she may be able to bear my death and live until You take her to heaven that I may see her again. Forgive me, God. Forgive me, God.”
I wept again, now however, with a tingling in the pit of my stomach. I felt almost happy. I’d said my peace and acknowledged before God the insignificance of my existence. I felt complete. I was now willing to surrender to His will and die.
The rain returned but not the wind. It fell thin and soft, warm and quiet over the already saturated valley floor. I listened and lost myself in memories of distant laughter and children’s play. I remembered Grandma’s warm and aromatic kitchen, the rumor of the seashore, and the wind chime made out of seashells hanging in the patio window.
Inconsequential memories, perhaps, but those were the only meaningful things in my life, I realized. The long talks over the dinner table, the silent moments of quiet reflection while digging about in the small vegetable garden, those were my treasures. Absorbed into those and many other scattered memories, I slipped into unconsciousness.
“Not yet,” I heard inside my rattled brain with astonishing clarity. No cymbal, no trump, no earth-shattering tremor. The quiet and simple phrase startled and surprised me at the same time.
I was in shock due to the loss of blood and my rattled brain had but a spark or electrical impulse barely enough to keep my body alive. The magnitude of the event, the realization that I had been a witness and a recipient of a true miracle and how this event would transform my life would come days later.
I wiggled my soggy toes inside my boots and wiped the blood from my face. The pain on the side of my face was gone, replaced now by a strong pressure over my right eye. I touched my head and the tactile experience was horrific. I could feel the mangled mass of bone and tissue “loose” on the side of my face.
It has taken me many years to find the courage to share glimpses of the life story of my grandmother and an account of my search for truth, spiritual nourishment, and ultimately God. My life, both here and in my native land, has been fraught with struggles, disappointments, and bittersweet experiences. I’ve embraced this country as my own since in the land of my ancestors I have nothing but memories. Therefore, with immense gratitude I call this land my country.
As a keen and honest observer of the world around me, I can thus attest that our country has problems, some actual, some imagined. I’ve traveled beyond these borders and into other lands, thus I believe I speak with some authority on the issue. I can sincerely attest to the uniqueness and special character of this land. Failure to recognize how exceptional this country is, in my at times not-so-humble opinion, conveys an affront to God. This country, as some contend, may not be the best country in the world. But for those that will read these lines and as one that gives witness to this truth, I can sincerely declare that there is no better one.
The founding and development of this nation wasn’t an act of fortuity. It wasn’t luck or chance. The existence and emergence of this land was the result of careful planning and care on the side of the Lord. The coming forth of The Book of Mormon and the restoration of the gospel and all the miracles that accompanied those events had been foretold for millennia.
It’s my testimony that the earth and all that is in it is the Lord’s. We’re His offspring and thus equipped to attain, in time, a level of light, knowledge, and intelligence that will surpass in order of magnitude our current state. All knowledge belongs to Him and nothing is lost to Him. Although He had scattered the nations to and fro across the face of the earth and the oceans, He knows precisely where He has driven them.
I’m convinced that He pours a measure of His spirit of revelation to all those who seek Him with real intent and a pure heart. And it’s that revelation that constitutes the seed of His word and the desire to come to know Him, the Eternal Father. There are men and women all over the earth in distant lands and on the isles of the sea that cry His name and He hears them. It’s therefore our responsibility to seize on the wind of faith and go to on His errand to every corner of the world where His children call on His name for mercy and salvation. Such responsibility can’t be abdicated and in virtue of the abundant blessings that have been poured upon us in this land, we must obey.
I’m indeed grateful beyond measure that the Lord has led my steps unto this land—that I’ve found peace, the truth, and the knowledge that my grandmother desired for me. I’m grateful that the mercies of the Lord extend to those who have crossed the veil without the opportunity to receive the ordinances of salvation. The Lord has inspired His prophets to build many temples in the high places where we may worship and perform under His watchful eye inside His holy mountain.
It’s my witness that as before, the God of the universe has answered the prayer of the simple, the humble but faithful, and has spoken by the mouth of his prophets. I also testify that Joseph Smith was the one chosen to open the doors of the kingdom of heaven and allow the light and truth lost to memory to return. I have an unbending testimony of the restoration of the priesthood of God to the earth, and that such will be the foundation of His kingdom until Christ declares that the work is done. I express infinite gratitude to my Heavenly Father for allowing me to bear the priesthood in order to perform the ordinances of salvation here on the earth. I’m grateful for this endowment that allows me, for the first time in more than 2000 years, to restore to my ancestral line that which may have been lost to my kindred dead.
I’m thus willing to declare with humility but with full intent that I’ve placed my eternal salvation and that of my family on the fact that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is indeed the church of the Savior. I’ve received, in faith and on account of my own life being in mortal danger, a personal testimony that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Eternal Father, and that He lives. It is of Him whom we testify, it is Him of whom we speak and say Master, Savior, and Redeemer. I declare that Jesus Christ is the instrument of salvation for the dying world and I’ve pledged to dedicate my life to the work of spreading His gospel. He is the same that was crucified for the sins of mankind, past, present, and future, and none will be saved except one confesses faith and belief in Him. We worship Him because He lives and guides the affairs of the kingdom through His prophets, seers, and revelators, Gordon B. Hinckley being the keeper of the keys of the priesthood and of the gathering in this day.
I know that through Jesus Christ we’re partakers of the covenant of the patriarchs. That in one measure or other, the blood of Israel runs through our veins and the blessings promised to them is also our promise. Thus we must remain faithful to the covenants, old and new, in order to receive the everlasting blessings of the gathering onto Zion.
I’ve prayed that we may have the faith and strength to endure the trials that will surely come. I’ve prayed that we may not fear or heed to the rumors of war and the power of tyrants and those that oppress. I’ve prayed that we may be sharp tools in the hands of the Lord to carve His word in the hearts of those who are looking for His truth. There are millions of men and women pleading in the dark for the light of the gospel and to them we most go or account for our lack of diligence at the last day.
It is my testimony that if we are faithful and true to the stewardship that we’ve been given, we’ll be counted among those present under the bright morning light when the trump will sound from the edge of the universe announcing the coming of the Lord Almighty and the resurrection of those who crossed the veil professing faith in Christ.
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Josué by staff
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Jonathan J. Johnson by staff
Why I believe the Book of Mormon to be true.
It is hard to believe in a book, when we are accustomed to reading fiction, novels, opinions in news papers, or magazines and Biographies of unfamiliar people. We look at the binding of a book, whose pages do nothing but help us pass the time. We look to books more often to help us obtain our selfish desires. They either help us live in a fantasy, or they amplify worldly ambitions, or the desire to increase our own empires.My testimony of the Book of Mormon has been a process. Although I received answers to prayers while seeking and even had events that were profound, mine is a testimony of application. I have seen personally the change in myself. This is the literal testimony of its teachings. For some time the Book of Mormon, for me, was the blue book that the missionaries distributed to those whom they contacted. Although I felt that their efforts were just, I struggled to know just why that blue book was so important. I wondered why so many would give all, including their lives to protect and declare its teachings.
The scriptures below outline in part, why I believe the Book of Mormon is true. It is not the “Book that is True”; it is the collage of true stories that hold personal application. It is individuals or analogies, that I can personalize and like its participants, grow little by little. The Book is substantiated through proven applications. The proof comes when you liken and then apply what it teaches. You will never find fault in this book, if you try to disprove it through the application of its teachings.
Third Nephi 26: 9-10
9 And when they shall have received this, which is expedient that they should have first, to try their faith,(it is not enough just to receive it- we must try it out!) and if it shall so be that they shall believe these things then shall the greater• things be made manifest unto them.

10 And if it so be that they will not believe these things, then shall the greater• things be withheld• from them, unto their condemnation.The book of Mormon is not about reading, it is all about trying and applying. As The Savior teaches they should “first try their faith”. If they try their faith and believe these things, then shall the Lord make greater things manifest. If you want to know it is true read and then apply, read and then apply.
Ether 3:10-13
10 And he answered: Nay; Lord, show• thyself unto me.

11 And the Lord said unto him: Believest• thou the words which I shall speak?

12 And he answered: Yea, Lord, I know that thou speakest the truth, for thou art a God of truth, and canst• not lie.

13 And when he had said these words, behold, the Lord showed• himself unto him, and said: Because• thou knowest these things ye are redeemed from the fall; therefore ye are brought back into my presence; therefore I show myself unto you.Second Nephi 33:10
10 And now, my beloved brethren, and also Jew, and all ye ends of the earth, hearken unto these words and believe in Christ; and if ye believe not in these words believe in Christ. And if ye shall believe• in Christ ye will believe in these words, for they are the words• of Christ, and he hath given them unto me; and they teach• all men that they should do good.Moroni 10:32-33
32 Yea, come• unto Christ, and be perfected• in him, and deny• yourselves of all ungodliness; and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love• God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect• in Christ; and if by the grace of God ye are perfect in Christ, ye can in nowise deny the power of God.

33 And again, if ye by the grace of God are perfect in Christ, and deny not his power, then are ye sanctified in Christ by the grace of God, through the shedding of the blood of Christ, which is in the covenant of the Father unto the remission of your sins•, that ye become holy, without spot.I know the Book of Mormon is true, because I know that I can live better and have lived better when applying its teachings. Change is the visible, tangible testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.
In the name of Jesus Christ Amen.
Jonathan Johnson -
Joan Leach by staff
Born into a non-LDS (actually anti-LDS) family that didn’t want or love me, by the age of four I felt an emptiness and loneliness that made me long for the heavenly parents who I was sure had loved and valued me. My need and desire resulted in my having many spiritual experiences in which I discovered that Christ not only had a personal church here on earth but that when I grew up, I was to join it.
Until I could find this church, I attended my family’s church, though I already knew it wasn’t the special church I had been told about. When I graduated from high school, I attended a nursing school owned by another religion and read everything in their library on their faith that they had. I also observed the students and teachers of that faith and asked them questions. I concluded their church was not the one I was looking for.
What followed was years of attending and investigating as many churches as I could, which introduced me to many strange beliefs. All I could learn about Mormons was what my family told me and from reading about Joseph Smith and Brigham Young–prophets and polygamy. I was impressed with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, the Osmonds, and the Church’s emphasis on family, but that wasn’t enough to overcome my conviction that the religion was all wrong. When I thought of prophets, I thought of Charles Manson. When I thought of polygamy, I thought that my Heavenly Father wouldn’t denigrate me like that and so it couldn’t possibly be right.
When I was 34, I lived in Florida, had two children, and had just been divorced. I had stopped going to churches several years before and had told God that He’d have to send the church to me because I couldn’t find it. When I saw young men knocking on doors across the street from my house, I thought they were from another church I’d already rejected and told my sons that I wasn’t even going to answer the door when they knocked. Time passed and I’d forgotten about them when I was passing the front door and heard a knock. Suddenly I knew who was kncoking and while I intended not to open the door, I watched my hand reach out–as if it had a mind of its own–and open the door. I remember thinking, ‘What is my hand doing?–I’ll never be able to get rid of these people!’
When I saw the faces of two young men smiling at me, I was surprised: They were glowing! I only half listened while they explained that they were missionaries with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I couldn’t remember which church that was. At my puzzled expression, they said, “The Mormons.” I said, “Oh,” and thought ‘prophets and polygamy–oh, well–be polite but get rid of them.’ And I proceeded to try to do just that.
Finally one of the missionaries said something that stopped me completely. He said, “Do you know there’s a prophet alive on the earth today?” A prophet?–one of the very ideas that I thought disqualified the church as being the one I sought. But it was as if a bell rang: I thought, ‘You know, God could do that–He could send a prophet to earth; he’s done it before, so why couldn’t he do it again?’ But I only said to them, “Well, I’m interested in religion, so you can come back, but I’m not going to convert.” Ha!
That was on Sunday evening, and they told me they’d be back at 2:00 either Thursday or Friday, depending on whether another appointment they had at 2:00 on Thursday was kept. I agreed and closed the door.
And Lucifer stepped in. That may seem a strange thing to say, but what happened was that I spent several days of torment, doubt, anguish. I had trouble eating or sleeping. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but when 2:00 Thursday arrived, I was all churned up and waited for the missionaries at the door to tell them I’d decided not to talk with them. But they didn’t arrive.
That’s when a complete flip flop occurred. Suddenly I felt hysterical and began to sob. I cried, “I don’t how to get hold of them! I don’t know how to find them! I’ll never see them again!” I was inconsolable and didn’t understand why. Suddenly a thought came to me: ‘Didn’t they say they might not be able to come today, and if they couldn’t, that they’d come tomorrow?’ I immediately calmed down, and said, “Oh, yeah–they did.”
The next day–Friday–an entirely different person met them at the door than the one who would have met them the day before. I was calm and open to what they had to say.
Nevertheless, I intended to question them, to find out if what they claimed–that their church was Christ’s–his special, personal church–was true. We went through several “discussions” that night, and they gave me a Book of Mormon to read. I read for hours and prayed about it as they suggested, with no answer. I wrote down questions I had about what I’d read–115 of them– before I finally went to sleep.
Saturday morning the missionaries returned and I presented them with the list of questions. I thought they’d be upset, but I didn’t care. (They weren’t.) I was determined that if what they claimed was true, I’d find out. We spent several more hours in discussions and most of my questions they answered satisfactorily. Some they were to get back to me on, and some I thought they were wrong about so I made notes on those. Nevertheless when they asked me to attend church the next day, I overcame my entrenched reluctance to go (it had been years since I’d gone to church) and decided that if the church were true, when I set foot in their chapel and saw the people there, I’d know.
When I arrived at the church, it was nice, though plain. The people impressed me, but I thought, ‘They’re just very nice people. That’s all.’ I was particularly impressed with the fathers there. They acted like mothers, holding their babies, caring fror them, kissing and hugging them. ‘Nice,’ I thought. But that wasn’t enough to convince me.
Then the first hymn sounded on the organ: “Onward Christian Soldiers,” a song I’d heard in my family’s church and a dozen other churches, too. Only this time it was different. A spirit entered my heart so strong that I could hardly breathe, and that’s when it happened. I received the answer to my prayer. I had a special experience during that song that showed me for sure–nothing doubting–that I had found what I’d been told to seek.
I can tesitfy to you that I know many things now, after being in the Church for many years, but the most important thing that I can tell you is this: Christ lives and The Church of Jesus Christ is really–honestly and truly–His church. Listen to the testimonies of the missionaries and members. We come from all over the world. We come from all religions. Some of us had no religion and didn’t believe God existed. But we all come to the same truth and the same gospel.
My problem over polygamy? I received the answer to that three months after I was baptized. You see, God talks to us, especially if we talk to him. He’s concerned about the things that concern us. He wants us to be happy. I tremble when I think about the possibility that the missionaries might not have returned. I can’t bear to think about it. But that would never have happened, of course, because, as I said, my Father in Heaven wants ME to be happy and the Church shows me how to do that. And I am.
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Giuseppe Martinengo: how I found the Mormon Church by Giuseppe Martinengo
At the end of 1984, I was almost 20 years old. By that time I had dropped from school, since I had realized that the physics taught at the University would not help me find what I was looking for. Most of my friends and relatives couldn’t understand exactly what was going on with me and some of them tried in different ways to help me but without any concrete result. The problem was that I knew what I didn’t want, but I was not sure about what I wanted.
Nobody around me seemed to have the answers I was looking for. However, I had the feeling that I was in the right path. I had faith that by following the best principles I had learned and trying to improve my life by getting rid of what was not in harmony with my ideals I would finally find the answers.
On a certain day close to the end of the year 1984, I was in my home, reading a book, when I felt the sudden urge to go for a walk in downtown Asti, my home city, in Italy.
While I was walking in Corso Dante (one the main streets of the city) I saw two young men, two missionaries, walking toward me. One of them later told me that he didn’t really want to talk with me, but I looked at them and they looked at me and we stopped and started to converse. I remember that they asked me what I believed about the Savior. I can’t remember what I answered them, but they left me with a pamphlet about the Mormons, and asked for my home address.
A few days later, the same missionaries rang at my doorbell. My mother answered, and since they asked for her husband, she said that he wasn’t there. The missionaries then left before I could talk with them. I wasn’t completely ready yet.
A few more days passed and I finally reached the right point. I can remember that I was laying down on my bed, tired of my apparently fruitless search. I offered a simple silent prayer, in which I basically said, “I have done all that I knew I should do… now I really need help since I don’t know what to do next…”
As soon as I expressed my thoughts to God, I started feeling an incredible peace and I felt as if heaven was close to me. In that exact moment, the doorbell rang. This time I was alone at home. I went to answer at the door and the missionaries were there. When they entered the living room, and shook my hand, I knew that they had the answers I was looking for.
Later, I realized that what I was looking for was not just a set of doctrines or a nice church, but the feeling of the Spirit. When they entered my home, I felt that they brought with them that nice Spirit, even if I didn’t know what it was at that time.
I understand now that the Lord gave me several experiences in which I felt His Spirit. Those experiences were so sweet that I was always looking for that feeling, even if I couldn’t name it.
The missionaries’ teachings fit perfectly together with my understanding. They were answering my questions about where we come from, why we are here, and where we will go after this life.
As I have written elsewhere, when the missionaries showed me the filmstrip of the Prophet Joseph Smith’s First Vision, it was difficult for me to contain my tears. I felt that the story of his search for truth was in some ways similar to my own. My search had lasted longer, while his had been probably more intense. Moreover, he had been chosen to have the glorious vision of the Father and the Son while I had to content myself with two missionaries. However, those two missionaries were like angels to me, bringing with them the answers to my deeply heartfelt questions.
However, in spite of all these feelings, I still didn’t have a solid testimony. It was the reading of the Book of Mormon that brought to me the confirmation of the truthfulness of all those teachings and experiences.
Early in our discussions, the missionaries mentioned the practice of fasting. They didn’t stress that point too much, but for some reason I began to read the Book of Mormon while fasting at the same time. My later experience in teaching families and individuals with other missionaries showed me that it is not easy to find someone who accepts the challenge to fast while reading the Book of Mormon. However, those experiences also convinced me that when people do it, and they are sincere in their search, it is almost impossible for them not to receive an answer. And, in fact, that happened with me.
In less than a week, I read the entire Book of Mormon. I would fast for 24 hours, then have a lunch, and then fast for another 24 hours. My mother really thought that I was behaving strangely. At some point in that process, I decided to kneel down and ask if those things I was learning were true. I did it, and, after my prayer, an incredible feeling of peace surrounded me, a feeling similar to the one I had just before the missionaries came to my home, but much stronger. Together with those feelings came the answers to my specific questions about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, of the Prophet Joseph Smith, and of the Church. I received a confirmation by the Spirit of God that all that the missionaries were teaching was true. From that moment, to paraphrase the words of the Prophet Joseph Smith, “I had a testimony; I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it, neither wanted I do it”.
I knew that the Church and the Book of Mormon were true and I was eager to learn all that was possible about the Church. However, my mother was not at all happy with my new “discovery” and, although the missionaries tried to teach her the day they challenged us to be baptized, it became clear that she was not interested like I was. Her opposition created some problems that led me eventually to leave my home.
However, I had finally found what I had been looking for after many years and this was what really counted. More than 20 years have passed since that day and I have had many experiences that reinforced that initial testimony.
So, why do I believe in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? Simply because I know that it is true. The Spirit of the Lord testified it to me over and over again after that first experience. I don’t believe what I do because the Church is a wonderful organization, I don’t believe because I have friends, I don’t believe because the doctrine is clear, understandable, and sound, I don’t believe because someone told me so, but I believe because, in fact, I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true.
After all we can say and do, each person will have to honestly search, ask, and receive an answer directly from God about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, of the Prophet Joseph Smith, and of the Church. I searched, asked, and received my answer, and therefore I can honestly say that I know that these things are true.
This story was first published in my blog at Giuseppe Martinengo’s blog
Giuseppe Martinengo: before I met the missionaries of the Mormon Church
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Giuseppe Martinengo: before I met the missionaries of the Mormon Church by Giuseppe Martinengo
I was not born and raised in Utah, among the Mormons, but I was raised a Catholic in Italy. When I was 10 years old, my father died because of lung cancer (he used to smoke) at age 47. His death changed everything in my life. I was then the only child of a widowed young mother (33 years old). In spite of all the efforts made by my mother to help me cope with the situation, very soon I realized that something had changed not only in my outward normal life, but also inside me. I wasn’t anymore like many other children who could go about being just children without many problems and especially without many questions about life or sudden sadness.
Because of the death of my father, I noticed that some people started to treat me differently and, over time, I had to face some hard questions about the purpose of our existence here on the earth. I didn’t realize how important what was happening inside me was until I was 13 or 14. However by the age of 14, I was beginning to be highly unsatisfied with the world around me and with the answers that my teachers, family, or religious ministers gave me to the important questions of life. I was beginning to realize that perhaps something was missing in the worldview and beliefs of most people around me, but I was not sure what.
It is important to stress that the presence of the Catholic Church were so strong in my environment that I can still remember a time, when I was about 9 or 10 years old, in which during a lesson at school about people with other beliefs, I asked myself: “How can people not to be Catholic? Do they know that they will all go to live forever in… (a very bad place)? Why they don’t change religion and become all Catholics?” Such was the power of tradition in my environment.
The death of my father, however, started to change my situation. The Lord sometimes works in mysterious ways to bring about His purposes. In fact, after the death of my father, my mother reduced her involvement with the Catholic Church. She was still a Catholic, but, perhaps because she didn’t find the help she was looking for in that organization to cope with her loss, she started looking elsewhere.
She started reading books about oriental religions and philosophies such as yoga, Zen, and Buddhism; in particular, she started reading about and practicing yoga. Her exploration opened up a new world to me. Suddenly, I was learning about other religions and philosophies and I was discovering that there were a lot of good things to be learned. I began to realize that perhaps the Catholic Church didn’t have the best answers to the questions of life. Moreover, and especially, I began to be familiarized with the concepts of spiritual progression and the idea of spiritual self-improvement. Not that these concepts are completely absent from the Catholic tradition, but in the daily life of a Catholic they are almost absent, since they are usually stressed only for those who abandon the “normal” life and became “full-time, forever single, priests or nuns.” My favorite Catholic “hero” was Saint Francis of Assis, but I didn’t like the idea that a religious man or woman should give up marriage to pursue a religious life at its best.
I had a dear friend, Stefano, who was a member of a small Protestant group. I had always been fascinated by the fact that this and other Protestant groups rejected the principle of celibacy in their church. When people like me are immersed in a strong Catholic culture, even these little examples or ideas can make a big difference over time and give us the courage to pursue something different in spite of the strong pressure of the tradition.
When I was 15, I had another key experience. The setting was a trip to Rome. The purpose of the trip was to take the Catholic youth from all Europe to meet with the Pope. At that time I was involved with the Catholic youth of my parish, even if I was beginning to question some of our beliefs. During that trip, something special happened.
On the specific day, thousands of youth were ready to meet the Pope in the Saint Peter’s Basilica. We had been preparing for months for this special meeting. Youth from all over Europe had traveled to get there. Obviously, the Pope was not present when we arrived and so we all sat on the floor of the church and started singing. I really didn’t sing, but I listened for at least an hour to those Gregorian lyrics but I started feeling bad. I had great expectations about that special meeting with the Pope, but after a while I began to think: “What am I doing here?”; “Why I am here after all? Just because others told me that it would be special?” I struggled for a while, but then I decided to stand up and leave. I had a feeling of relief when I left that strange atmosphere in the Saint Peter’s Basilica. I had an uncle in Rome and I decided to visit him and spend some time with his family instead than meeting the Pope: not a big deal anyway, I thought.
On the way back to my city in northern Italy, while still on the train, I had the opportunity to tell what I had done to our main guide, a very outgoing and friendly priest. I told him about my feelings, my doubts, and the fact that I had left the meeting. I began to ask questions about Catholic beliefs. After listening and discussin with me for some time he finally said: “If you believe these things, then you are not a Catholic”. That was really a strong and challenging statement, a call back to orthodoxy. I was a little perplexed, but I replied: “Then, I am probably not a Catholic!”
I suppose that the Spirit of the Lord was present that day to support me and open my mind, because I felt relieved when I said what I was really thinking, and I was not afraid of the priest’s reaction. After that episode, my search for answers was directed mainly outside the Catholic Church, since even that apparently open-minded priest had failed to help me to understand. When confronted with hard questions, he couldn’t find anything better than suggesting that I rely on blind faith or consider myself a heretic!
Several years passed after that episode and I continued to meet with my Catholic friends, but I was now always more involved in reading books about other religions. Books were my main font of information about religion. One author that really had a strong influence on me for a period, for example, was Sri Aurobindo. I can’t remember the details of what I read at that time, but Sri Aurobindo, in his books, suggests that humankind can evolve spiritually beyond its current limitations and reach a future state of “supramental” existence. This would be like an “evolutionary” step for humankind that should lead to a divine life on Earth. (This make me thing of the Millennium now, even if according the Bible this “almost divine life” will not the product of “evolution”; but at that time it was an interesting concept that gave me some hope and meaning for the future).
Based on my current knowledge and testimony of the teaching of the Mormon Church, I can’t avoid thinking that by reading his writings I was moving a step forward in the direction of understanding key Mormon concepts, some of which are not clear or even accepted by many traditional Christians. I believe that the Spirit of the Lord teaches people according to their language and understanding, and moves forward the true seekers one step at a time until they are ready for the fullness of the Gospel.
My search for the truth continued to intensify until it reached its climax when I was 19 years old. One day, I was in Torino, where I was supposed to be moving forward with my studies in physics. I had chosen to study physics not because I wanted to become a new Einstein, but because of books such as The Tao of Physics by Fritjof Capra, books that discuss the parallels between modern physics and eastern mysticism. It is probably unnecessary to say that since my interest for physics was nothing more than another step in my search for the truth, I was very disappointed with my undergraduate program at the University of Torino. Therefore, as in many other occasions, on that particular day I was not studying physics but I was reading a book about the history of Indian philosophy.
At a certain point, that day, I decided to go for a walk to relax and think about life. While I was walking downtown someone stopped me and asked me if I wanted to do a psychological test. I didn’t mention it before, but I had also been interested in psychoanalysis and psychology, and I especially liked books such as Eric Fromm’s The Art of Loving or To Have or to Be? and so on Therefore, I was somewhat curious about this test.
That test was the beginning of my last step in my search for the truth. After that, I had lost my fear of disconnecting from the Catholic tradition, and I was almost incomprehensible to my family and Catholic friends. I can say now that I was ready to meet the Mormon missionaries, and especially to understand and accept their message, less than a year later, because of all those experiences.
But who was behind that psychological test? The people of Dianetics and Scientology. Their focus on personal improvement and their blending of scientific, religious, and psychological knowledge attracted me for a short period, even if I never became really involved with them, because after the initial interested, I realized that they didn’t have the answers I was looking for. However, even this relatively negative experience had at least one important positive outcome. Scientology completely severed my last psychological (and some doctrinal) connections with the Catholic Church. I freed myself even more from the weight of tradition and I grew stronger in the belief that there was something out there, in some place, in some organization, or in some book, that could help me answer my questions about the purpose of life.
It may seem of little importance to some, but to have the courage to be unorthodox, to challenge at least in our own mind the tradition is an important step before we can be ready to receive a testimony and to accept the restored gospel. This was especially true for me, since I didn’t accept to be baptized in the Mormon Church for social reasons or out of a temporary interest, but only because I was touched by the Spirit, after contemplating the simple but powerful architecture and logic of Mormon doctrine. The concept of obtaining a testimony of the truth by the Spirit of God implies that to rely on tradition to believe is not enough, even when the tradition is true.
I can testify with all my conviction that the scripture that read “seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you” (Luke 11:9) is true, because the Lord guided me by the hand through many different experiences until I found what I was really looking for, the true Church of Jesus Christ once again established on the earth.
The Dark Ages of my life were dispelled when I finally met the missionaries and I can only be thankful that I was born in a time when the true Church is present in the face of the earth. I can’t imagine the hardship imposed on those people who tried to find the Church when it wasn’t on the earth.
I need to recognize that I owe to the Catholic Church my first limited understanding of and belief in Jesus Christ, belief that never left me even when I was focusing on other religions. However, I owe to these other religions and philosophies a better understanding of many true principles and a more opened mind that helped me not to be afraid when I finally found the true Church of Jesus Christ.
Other Giuseppe’s pages
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Francesco Lepore: Finding the Mormon missionaries in Italy by staff
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