Waiting on the Lord

This morning (December 5, 2014), I was thinking about my conversion story I shared on the previous post. When I first prayed about Joining the LDS Church, my prayer was not answered. There was nothing. I wondered why I didn't get an answer when the missionaries promised me I would. Some days later, the answer came very powerfully. I couldn't deny it although it would have been convenient to do so. The question comes, why did the answer come later than I expected?

The Lord has a timetable. Far be it for this mortal to try to figure all such things out. One aspect, however, is the fact if my answer had been immediate, it would have been too easy. It took work in the form of pondering and more prayer. We don't know why the timetable is the way it is, but in the grand scheme of things, the Lord is the ultimate chess master. Even though it's been fifty years since my conversion, I'm still figuratively learning to play the game.

My Conversion to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

In 1953, when I was nine years old, a new church was being built in our town. My sister, Margo, and I were attending the First Baptist Church in Modesto, California. We saw the new church every Sunday that we went to our church. After months of wondering, a sign went up on the new church, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” The name was curious to me. The Church of Jesus Christ I could understand, but what about the saints? Weren’t the saints great people who were dead? Latter-day must mean these saints are alive now. I felt the Latter-day Saints must be really good people.

As I grew older, I became fascinated with the Temple and the Tabernacle on Temple Square in Salt Lake City, never dreaming I would ever go there. I was also interested in the so-called “Miracle of the Gulls” and Seagull Monument at Temple Square. When I was about 12, Margret and Dan Rees, our maternal grandparents took my sister and I to Yellowstone National Park. On the way home, we went through Salt Lake City. As we came south on the old highway, just below Ensign Peak, the city came into view. With the Rocky Mountains in the background, I thought it was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. I only had a glimpse of Temple Square and the Seagull Monument as we drove by. I was very disappointed we didn’t stop. Little did I know then that I would return many times.

Within a year, I quit attending the First Baptist Church. A youth minister and fine man, had forced a group of boys to kneel in prayer and accept Christ as our personal savior. I felt like my arm had been twisted and that I just wasn’t ready to take that step. I really liked the youth minister, but the incident was very negative. It was months before I returned to church there. When I did, the youth minister looked at me and said, “Well, hello stranger.” I never returned. I felt I had been singled out as an outsider, so an outsider I would be. From that day to this, I never stepped inside that First Baptist Church again. But the teachings I received there and the basic knowledge of the Bible were invaluable to me as my life progressed.

During my teen years, I drifted, still being a firm believer in the basic tenants of Christianity, but I was lost spiritually. When I was a junior in high school, my best friend, Jim, had an off and on again relationship with Evonne. Jim and Evonne were a year older.  He was the head cheerleader and Evonne was the head song leader (pom-pom). The main difficulty between Jim and Evonne was religion. Jim was a traditional Catholic and Evonne was a Mormon. They were literally between a rock and a hard place. Both were convinced they were right. Jim would not convert and go to the Mormon Church, Evonne would not become a Catholic. I was impressed with the strength of their convictions, particularly Evonne’s.

From the time I first met her, I had immediately taken to Evonne. Although Jim was her boyfriend, I was her friend. We could talk easily and she would confide in me regarding her relationship with Jim. We sat and talked a number of times. Evonne was strong in her commitment to the Church. Her friendship and that commitment was to help change my life. Occasionally, I asked her questions about the Church and those Latter-day Saints.

After their graduation, Jim and Evonne and my group of friends, went on to our local junior college and I was left alone in high school. I was lonely. I finally made friends with a group who were juniors. They seemed to date within their small group. One day, I saw a beautiful young lady in the distance. As she walked towards our group I asked, “Who is that?” “That’s Diane. She’s dating Tom. She’s a Mormon so she won’t let him kiss her.” I thought that was rather funny. Tom was frustrated.

Diane and Tom, like Jim and Evonne were on and off again. I had a strong interest in Diane, but would never step on the toes of my friend Tom. One day, just before I graduated, Diane came to me and said sadly, “Tom and I broke up.”

I thought about dating Diane, but had a busy summer and I enrolled in Modesto Junior College in the fall of 1962. It was a very depressing time. I had no dates, I was longing for a girlfriend, but had no prospects. I was not doing well in my classes. In October, the Cuban Missile Crisis developed suddenly. I was very depressed thinking this could lead to a nuclear war and obliterate the human race. I was thinking deep thoughts about what might happen. Would civilization even exist next week? Would we all die? I prayed during a break from a night class at the college as I walked around campus. I felt like I had no right to pray. I hadn’t prayed in many years. Still I prayed for myself and all humanity. Of course, the crisis abated and things were relatively well.

In January, 1963, my Grandfather Rees died. This was very difficult, as I loved him very much. During the funeral and after, thoughts crossed my mind. Where is grandpa now? Is he alive? My grandmother told me that we’d all be together again some day. Was that true?

Just after Grandpa Rees died, I went to the college library one morning to do some work. Who should be in the library but my friend, Diane. She was in an accelerated program from high school, which allowed her to take college classes in the morning. She had a friend who studied with her and after meeting with them a few mornings in the library, her friend quit coming. Heaven, it was just Diane and I!

Finally, I summoned the courage to invite Diane to the college Valentine’s Formal. The dance was a dream. Diane and I were immediately a couple and were very infatuated with each other.

As our relationship progressed, Diane taught me a lot about the Church, but the defining moment came a month after we started dating. I was in the Diane's mom's kitchen, talking to her mom. We were talking about the Church and Diane’s mom said, “Rocky, all churches are good, but I know mine is the true church.” At that moment, I knew she knew. Something within me was convinced that she was not only sincere, but had a spiritual knowledge I did not have. I had never heard a statement like that before. I was curious.

Soon, Diane invited me to a church service for the first time. It was the evening of March 18, 1963, my 19^th birthday. We went to that same building that I had watched being constructed years before. I was impressed with the sincerity and friendliness of the people. I was impressed that no collection plate was passed. I was most impressed by the fact that members of the congregation spoke during the service, not the minister. A man spoke who’s name was Brother Virgin. “Unusual name,” Diane said. While he spoke, he stated the same thing about his belief that Diane’s mom had. While doing so, he shed tears. I thought that was remarkably courageous for a male and most sincere. I felt something unique during his talk. It was a wonderful, warm feeling, as if I had come home. More than anything, I wanted to have that feeling again and again.

I continued to attend church with Diane every Sunday, but Diane broke off our romance in early May. I asked her if we could remain friends. She said we could and I still visited her family with some frequency, enough to make a pest out of myself. Much to the surprise of the Davis family, I continued to attend church every Sunday, sometimes twice. I’m sure they thought I was coming just to impress Diane. While I still carried a torch for Diane, what I really wanted was to have that same, spiritual feeling again.

I discovered many people I respected were members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Of course, I also found that a fellow who had done a beer run for me the previous summer was a member of the church! Shortly after Diane and I broke up, a friend, Randy Steele, came home from his first year at BYU. Randy asked me if the Davis family had ever had me visit with the missionaries from the church. I told him no, but that I was willing. In short order, I was taking missionary lessons at the home of Ralph Carpenter, who worked with my Dad. Randy came and so did Evonne’s younger sister, Jannet and a few other people I recognized. I knew Jannet just a bit from high school days.

The missionaries who taught me were Elder Andersen and Elder Boyer. Elder Andersen never said much, but Elder Boyer was a ball of fire. As they taught me about the Church, they challenged me to get on my knees and pray about the truthfulness of what I had learned. When I came back the second time. I told them I had not prayed. They gave me a firm commitment to pray before we met again. I was hesitant because of my experience in the Baptist Church, but this was different. It was just up to me.

At home at about 11 PM one night, I check the hallways to make sure every one was asleep. If I’d have been caught praying on my knees by my Dad, I’d have been laughed out of the house, or so I thought. In my prayer, I asked if the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the true church and if Joseph Smith was a prophet who had seen God, the Father and His son, Jesus Christ. I finished quickly, felt nothing and quickly went to sleep.

During the next visit with the missionaries, I told them I had prayed. They were happy. “Did you get an answer?” “No,” I responded. But in that same meeting, the answer did come. I walked into the Carpenter home curious about the church, I walked out as a convert.

What makes one a convert to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? When you know, you just know. All doubt is erased from one’s mind. It is a manifestation of the Spirit. I said earlier that it felt like coming home, but to the warmest, most loving home one can imagine. It is peace, a refuge from the storms of life. Many others have explained it the same way. At the same time, one has guidance, not from an individual, but just from feelings of what seems to be right.

I told the missionaries I wanted to be a member of the church. They informed me that I had to be age 21 (the legal age of adulthood in 1963) or to have my parent’s permission for baptism. I went home and told my father that I wanted to join the church. He told me it was a promise to God and a very serious decision. He wanted me to wait a year. I was disappointed, but saw his point.

In church circles I became the convert who had to wait. About this time, an amazing thing happened. Mom came to me and said, “How would you like to go to BYU with your friend this fall.” The amazing thing about that is that after year at Modesto Junior College, because of my poor grades, I had been asked not to return for the fall semester. How could I go to a major university when I had just been kicked out of junior college? The answer came: Evonne and Jannet!

My friend, Evonne, had moved to Provo after the spring semester of junior college wanting a fresh start and a complete break from Jim. Jannet had taken me under her wing. She approached me towards the end of June and said that her sister Carolyn’s fiancée, Bob, was taking a load to Provo as the entire family was moving there and would appreciate having a rider. I wouldn’t have to pay gas and I would have a place to stay. We would stay the week, which happened to be the Fourth of July. I could pal around with Bob, Carolyn and Evonne.

On Monday afternoon, July, 1 1963, Bob and I left for Provo, Utah and Brigham Young University. It took us almost 24 hours going 55-60 miles per hour in Bob’s old Chevy. All the way, we talked BYU and the church. Bob told me he had attended San Jose State for a year and felt like a number. He said BYU was different. He told me what it was like to be a convert and that everyone in the church was very helpful.

I reunited with Evonne in Provo. We were excited to see each other. For five days, it was Bob, Carolyn, Evonne and I. Evonne was excited about the difference in her life and enthused about BYU and Provo. She was excited that I might come. She was also excited about Richard Bolton. He was out of town while I was there, but she would soon marry him.

While in Provo, I applied as a student. I had no hope of being admitted, but, much to my surprise, was admitted to night school on a provisional basis.

Our last night at BYU was the Fourth of July. The four of us stretched out on the baseball diamond and watch the fireworks explode right above us. The celebration of fireworks seemed to be the epitome of what I had experienced in the last five months. Just like Evonne, I could go to BYU and start a new life.

Back in Modesto, I found being admitted to BYU and finding out how to get there are two different things. Jannet struck again! Jannet introduced me to a recently returned LDS missionary who thought the Provo apartment where he would stay in the fall had one more place. I wrote a letter to the landlady and secured the remaining spot.

Dad surprisingly let me go. Seven weeks later, when I walked out of the door of my home for the last time, Dad said, ”You’ll be back in six weeks.” In six weeks, our lives would change forever.

I settled in at BYU with three roommates. I enjoyed being away from home and felt free to be myself. BYU is a great place to learn and build faith. I loved it. I went to the assigned place for church the first Sunday. I noticed what seemed like a familiar face in the crowd of about 200 students. “That girl sure looks a lot like Diane,” I thought. It was Diane. Although the romance never rekindled, the friendship remained for many years.

For all my independence and joy, in October, early one morning, a fateful phone call came. It was Mom. “I’m divorcing your father,” was the icy message. I won’t go into the details of the divorce, but it was heart breaking and messy. I was depressed and felt to have divorced parents in this society that emphasized family put me on the outside as much as being a non-member of the church. One day I happened to run into a coed from one of my classes who was on the verge of crying. I walked her to the bookstore and asked her what was wrong. “I’m going through a hell of a divorce,” she said.  Of course, she meant her parents. “Me too,” I replied. We talked for a few moments. I never saw her again, but she helped me realize I wasn’t alone.

In December, I returned home to see Dad. He had fallen apart, his world torn apart. I was gone, my sister left town with our Mom. He was alone. In October there had been a family, in December, he was by himself. We talked a lot. It was a bonding experience with Dad. While I was there, I asked him about joining the Church. He said, “This looks like it’s going to stick. Do what you want.”

Upon returning to Provo, I told my roommates and friends that I had permission to be baptized. They were all happy for me, but nothing happened for a couple of weeks. One Sunday night, I was on an errand in the apartment of a girl named Rose from Beaver, Utah. Rose was preparing for a mission. She looked at me and said, “So you have permission to be baptized now? I replied that I did. She looked at me with piercing eyes and inquired, “So why aren’t you baptized?” I had no answer. I quickly left. As I walked down 9^th East to my apartment, I was in front of Wasatch Elementary School when it hit me, I can be baptized! At that moment, an amazing thing happened. It was like the heavens opened and the choirs of angels sang. I didn’t see or hear anything, but it was a powerful spiritual experience. It was a very cold, clear night and the stars seemed right on top of me. It was a strong witness to me that God, my Heavenly Father, wanted me to be baptized and had opened a pathway for me to do so. It was unlike any experience I have had before or since.

The next Saturday I was baptized in Orem, Utah. Diane was there. Evonne, Jannet and Bob were there. Bob, who had taught me so much about the church in our trip to Provo, baptized me. My roommate, Delos Adams, confirmed me a member of the church. Eleven months since I had first taken Diane out, I had become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Obviously, the events of 1963-4 changed my life forever. I never saw Jim again. He has since passed away. I have lost contact with Diane and her parents. Bob, Carolyn, Evonne and Jannet are still friends as is Randy Steele. I have a warm place in my heart for each of them. I made many more friends, including, Todd Christopherson, now an Apostle of the church. Many people carried me along including great bishops. I went on a two-year mission for the church in October, 1965. Two years after my return, I met Brenda Mangum who is now my wife. We have raised three children in the church and eight grandchildren.

I have served the church in many ways, none more challenging than the two years I spent on my mission. Since becoming a member, I have paid 10% of my income as tithing. That money has helped build churches, temples, schools and assisted needy people throughout the world both in and out of the church.

I, like Diane’s mom, know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is God’s kingdom on the earth. There are many outside the Church or any church doing wonderful things to help people and change lives, but the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is His church. I know it with every fiber of my being. It has the priesthood, the authority to act for God and to do his will. I found church leaders do not want power or wealth, but they simply wish to serve others and make the world a better place. The church is what it says it is. The members are not perfect people, but are sincerely trying to prepare the world for the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. I know he will come one day and that he loves each of us. He gave the ultimate sacrifice. There is a place for everyone in his kingdom; anyone who desires may be a saint. I am eternally grateful to be one of them.