Conversion of an Eight-Year-Old Weirdo

A lesson in Relief Society a little while ago had me in contemplation of my baptism. The lesson itself was about keeping a journal, and although this was a bit frustrating to sit through, it made me want to look back at some of my old (online) journal entries, particularly those from when I first joined the LDS church. And so I looked back to the days of investigating, and leading up to the actual day of March 26th, 2005.

.........I have virtually nothing written about my baptism.

On March 26th, 2005, I wrote more about chicken strips and orchestra concerts instead of the actual event that was my baptism. This is all I have found from that day that even remotely relates to my baptism, bad punctuation and all:

"today was awesome. long day but a good one for the most part. dont want to elaborate on it because i feel the tiredness creeping in so maybe i can write more about it tomorrow which might work cause itll be easter. i am so thankful for everyone who is supportive of me even though some people who i will not name are making me feel terrible about it. still i am very content with what happened."

LAME.

Every year on my baptism anniversary (birthiversary), I have gone out of my way to do something special for myself, be it little like buying something sweet and sugary, or something bigger like gathering together with a group of friends and going to dinner, which in these cases became a combination of my birthday and re-birthday, since we all know how easy it is for me to plan a shindig on my actual birthday*... good times. This year was nothing exceptional, except I had my first performance with this new improv group on the same night, but I still bought something made of sugar and spent time reminiscing.

This particular birthiversary was a special one for me because I turned eight years old. In other words, I have been a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints for eight years. At eight years old, members who were born into this church can make the decision for themselves as to whether or not they want to be baptized. It's a big decision to make, and one I am not sure I could have made myself at that age.

When I was eight years old, I was baptized into a Baptist church, of which I only have vague recollections of since I spent most of my childhood and teen years church hopping. I think about the many different branches of Christianity I had been exposed to, the various services I attended and church buildings I was carted off to, and some were better than others in regards to how they made me feel spiritually. However, none of them ever felt right. I'm not saying they aren't wonderful places of worship for others, and I'm not saying the people there were all horrible, but I never felt comfortable being bombarded with conflicting Gospel doctrine, with members who would practice what they preached for a mere few hours on Sundays (if even), with no clear understanding of my relationship to the God I was always praising and praying to -- heck, was there even a relationship in the first place, or was I merely an ant amid a swarm of ants blurting out chants and recitations to ward off an oncoming flood?

These questions weighed heavier on my mind following my high school graduation. It was a really bad year with a lot of (what seemed at the time) bad experiences, and I was somewhat spiritually lost for a number of months. I left the last church I was attending, I made a change in my living situation, and with the handful of friends I had leaving for college (or for the younger ones, staying in high school and living their lives without me a part of it), I had to essentially recreate my social life. One thing never changed though -- my love and firm belief for my God, my faith in His truths and principles, and my diligence in daily prayer and reading the Scriptures (of which I naturally accumulated more than one version of).

Was I happy to meet with the missionaries the first time they came over to my house? YEAH RIGHT. This was my way of humoring someone who was a very important part of my life at the time who claimed to have sent the missionaries to my house as a "birthday present". In fact, I was ready to bombard them with questions and misconceptions that I knew they couldn't answer...

But I didn't.

Benyo and Hunter, who couldn't have been much older than I was, spoke to me kindly, honestly, and took the time to actually hear where I was coming from and what I believed without judgment or negativity. And I in turn became genuinely interested in learning more. I had a number of LDS friends from high school, and I just couldn't wrap my head around the fact that many of these wonderful people were brainwashed sheep who followed the wrong Jesus and worshiped a man named Joseph Smith. It's crazy to see now how contention attacks truth at every turn, because everything my non-LDS pastors and a couple of family members had preached to me about Mormon doctrine couldn't be further from what is actually taught and true.

It was a sunny day, probably early March. Looking back at my journal, I think it actually might have been March 15th (ides of March?), possibly earlier. I was walking out of my music theory class, and this overwhelming feeling suddenly came over me, seemingly out of the blue, like I was being enveloped in warmth and love, which is as cheesy as it sounds. I realized, more at that moment than I did before, that everything I had been learning in the last two months was indeed true, that I could not deny what I knew to be right, that this Gospel was my way to pure happiness, and that I needed to continue to better myself by following the amazing example of Jesus Christ. That moment, I jumped into my car, called the missionaries, and excitedly told them that I wanted to be baptized, and we set the baptism and confirmation for Easter weekend.

And then all hell broke loose. There's no need to go into specifics, but it was awful. I had to keep my baptism under wraps because I was getting slammed from every direction from former friends who thought I was doing this for a boy, and my home life wasn't any easier. All I could do was pray, and every time I prayed, I asked (on some days, pleaded) to know if I was doing the right thing, and every time Heavenly Father affirmed to me that I was right. I can't begin to express how thankful I am for the handful of people who helped me get through those extremely difficult days, and I know Heavenly Father placed these people in my life at this time knowing their support would be integral to persevering through my first years as a new Latter-Day Saint.

The baptism itself. There are times I remember it like yesterday, and there are other times I can hardly recall anything that happened. One part that always stands out: the nerves and giddiness of stepping into the font, the calm serenity of falling back into the waters (despite almost losing my balance), and rising up with a newness of life and a big smile on my face. I did not have many people in attendance; the only people who attended that were from my YSA ward were the Bishop and the RS President, but the other few friends I had who attended (most of whom are not LDS) shared in my excitement. I was so happy they could be there to witness such a significant event in my life, and I am happy to still have many of them in my life to this day.

Do I wish my baptism could have been different? Yes. There are people I wish I could have had there, there are people I wish wouldn't have been there (but that's another story entirely!), there are preparations I wish I would have made to be more fully ready for what was ahead, and had I been smarter and more mature, I wish I could have written more about that amazing day so that I could better share it with others, including my future (or now present) eight-year old self.

Do I have any regrets? Absolutely NOT. It is still the best decision I have made in my life.

I am so lucky to be where I am, and I don't know where I would be without the true Gospel of Jesus Christ, restored in its fullness nearly 200 years ago by a boy who, like myself, was lost at one point and just wanted an answer. My baptism didn't necessarily change how I worship, but it changed my perspective, how I view myself and others, how I view my Heavenly Father, how I follow my Savior Jesus Christ, how I live life, and how this life is a gift not to be wasted. I'm not perfect (not even CLOSE), I'm still a weirdo with a lot of growing up to do, a lot of self-actualizing to work through, but I'm always striving to be better. And life just keeps getting better.

*Side note: I'm thinking one of these years, I'll have a My Dinner with Andre Dinner with Abed birthday dinner. I wonder who the Jeff in my life will be at that point...