I was a confident, conservative, reformed evangelical. Reformed protestants have a Calvinist bent in theology. I was married, with three incredible children, and very active in the church of my faith. I taught Bible studies, was a mentor in our women’s mentoring program, sang in the choir, was a soloist, a member of a six-person ensemble, and a violinist in the church’s orchestra. I was also a full time homeschooling mom.
My oldest child, Dillon, wanted to be a concert pianist. He was only eight when he made that decision, but was extremely gifted. He was currently taking piano lessons from a professor at a university in the next city. I began to pray about what to do for my precious son. We lived in Arkansas, which is not a mecca of classical music opportunities, and I needed direction.
A few weeks later his teacher informed me that Dillon needed a more advanced teacher. I disagreed. She was a piano professor. How much more advanced could we get? She explained the differences in levels of pedagogy, even at the collegiate level, and told me that in six months to a year, she would no longer be qualified to instruct Dillon and he would get frustrated with his lessons. She recommended a colleague of hers and told me he was really the only option for my son. There were a few obstacles she warned me about. First, he rarely takes children. Second, he is known for being a monster to his students, and third he is very expensive.
I started with the third obstacle. When I found out the price I decided then and there I couldn’t do it. The cost of piano was solely my responsibility, and I had very few resources. When Dillon was five I asked my then husband if he could take piano lessons. He said yes, only if I paid for it myself. It was not to come out of the household budget. So, I started tutoring math, and freelance writing. That worked fine when the lessons were $20 an hour, but now, if we switched to this new teacher, they were going to be $60 an hour, and his sister was now old enough for lessons as well. I had no idea how to afford it. But, I figured it might not even get that far given the first two obstacles.
Because of the cost issue, I made the decision to stay with his current teacher for as long as it seemed useful to Dillon and then worry about switching. Sure enough six months later, Dillon hit a wall. He was frustrated with piano and his lessons, and his teacher reminded me it was time for a more advanced pedagogy. As it happened, Dillon was in a piano competition at a local University and we met the professor his teacher wanted us to transfer to. A few weeks after we met him, we decided to attend a public concert in which he was performing.
Meeting a Mormon
He remembered Dillon’s performance at the competition, approached us after his concert, inviting Dillon to attend and perform at a piano party he was holding at his home. When we went, I prayed for an opportunity to discuss the possibility of teaching Dillon with him. At the end of the party, he asked if I could give him a lift into Little Rock. That was the opportunity I needed. I told him of Dillon’s current teacher’s suggestion of Dillon studying under him and asked if he would be willing to take Dillon. I also explained that my schedule is pretty tight, so I would also need him to take his sister. This way I didn’t have to travel to two teachers. He graciously agreed. Hurdle one down. I decided to hit hurdle two head on. The conversation went something like this:
“I feel a little awkward asking you about this, but feel I must. Right now Dillon absolutely loves piano and I want that to continue. However I have been told you can be kind of ruthless with your students.” Neil (the professor) looked at me with a mischievous grin and replied, “That’s true. But, I do know the difference between a Master’s candidate in piano and an eight-year-old boy. Why don’t we do the first month free, and you decide if you like my teaching style.”
I agreed and hurdle two was over. For the last hurdle, I doubled the number of tutoring students, and took a job proof-reading a magazine from home. All the hurdles were cleared and we settled in to new lessons. Life was moving along as comfortably as I thought possible. Then three things happened which turned my world upside down. First, we discovered Neil was Mormon. Secondly, my family came to love him greatly. Thirdly, my conscience would not allow me to care about someone and not discuss eternity with them.
You see the church I attended taught that Mormonism was a cult, its members deceived and condemned to an eternity in hell. How could we say we loved this man, and just sit back while he goes to hell? It was a real struggle for me. Now it should not have been that hard to talk to someone about eternity, but I was afraid he would get angry and stop teaching Dillon. We became dependent on his teaching. Dillon was blossoming under his tutelage, and there wasn’t another teacher within a two-hour drive who was even close to his capabilities. The fact is Neil had/has quite a temper. I was afraid Dillon would lose him as a teacher. Pretty sorry excuse, I know, but it felt very real to me. So, I wrongfully put off the conversation.
Soon I was pregnant again, and all thoughts of Neil’s eternity conveniently went out the window as I made preparations for our new arrival. During that time, our friendship with Neil grew. We regularly had outings together, and my conscience began to bother me continuously. Soon after my fourth child (which we named after Neil) was born, I could not take the guilt any longer.
I began studying about Mormonism. I checked out every book our church library had on the subject, and borrowed a few from one of our pastors. The more I read, the more frightened I became for my dear friend. I would weep on my bed and pray for Neil. It seemed so awful, so satanic, so deceptive. I could not sit back without any attempt at rescuing him. So, I set an appointment for the dreaded conversation, deciding that if Neil got angry and dropped Dillon, perhaps God would look mercifully on my dear child and move another qualified teacher into the area.
Two Long Drives
When the night for our conversation finally arrived, I tried to get my husband to go in my stead, to no avail. So, I packed up my little Neil and drove to his namesake’s home. It was the longest drive of my life. I had a basic plan, but was still not completely sure what to say.
I brought a peace offering of homemade chicken pot pie, and made him eat it before I brought up Mormonism, hoping he’d be more pleasant on a full stomach.
When he finished eating I took a deep breath and asked him why he thought Joseph Smith was a prophet. And what was Neil’s response to my terrified question? “Because he is.” We bantered back and forth for a while, with me trying to explain some of the things I’d read and attempting to show him from Scripture where it was wrong. But, each time he cut me off.
After about fifteen minutes of this, he held up his hand and said, “Listen, Annmarie, I should probably tell you that I’ve been expecting this conversation. I can also tell you that you won’t get far with me by talking about things you read in anti-Mormon literature. I know the books you’ve read. Do you really think it is intelligent getting all your information on a subject from opposing sources? You wouldn’t teach someone about Protestantism by using material written by a Muslim would you? Have you considered studying our literature to see what we believe?”
Aside from the slight dig on my intelligence, I had to admit he was right. It was not an honest way of investigating something. I told him I would investigate further, using actual Mormon reading material.
If the drive to Neil’s house seemed long, the drive home was even longer. I now had to face my husband Brent and explain that not only did I not convert Neil, but that I agreed to read the Book of Mormon. I was pretty sure that would not go over too well. I was right. Brent was furious and told me that book was not staying in our house. I tried calming him down, by telling him I knew it was a false religion. But, I explained, the only chance we have of helping Neil was by using his literature. I also said that truth has nothing to be afraid of. If what we believe is true, then this will only serve to demonstrate that truth more readily. He calmed down and agreed to let me read it, only to show Neil where it violates the Bible.
That process both destroyed my life and saved it. I began a three-year journey that ended in excommunication from my former church, ostracism from every friend, a divorce after an 18 year marriage, and loss of all means of financial support.
The day after I received my Book of Mormon I began studying it. I would set aside one to two hours each day to read it and compare it with the Bible, writing down any questions, or what at first appeared to be contradictions. Then, each Thursday evening, after my children’s piano lessons I would sit down with Neil and ask my questions.
The first thing I remember was that the Book of Mormon was not what I expected. It was much more in line with the Bible than I thought it would be, although, I couldn’t understand how it could have been so much more specific than the Bible. The skeptic in me decided that Joseph Smith was just taking information from the Bible and writing a “New” testament, until I read the story about Joseph Smith’s reaction when Martin Harris lost some of the manuscript translations. I realized then that he was no scam artist. He truly believed everything he wrote was true. That left two options: Either Mormonism was true, or a cleverly devised scheme of Satan. I had to know which.
The first issue to be settled, in my mind, was the fact that there were no new Scriptures. If the canon was closed, as I had been taught, then the Book of Mormon was false doctrine. Period. I remember early on calling one of my pastors for help. I just couldn’t figure out where in the Bible we derived the fact that the canon was closed. No matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find a passage that even hinted at such doctrine.
To the contrary, I found verses such as I Thessalonians 5:19-21 “Quench not the Spirit. Despise not prophesyings. Prove all things: hold fast that which is good.”, and Amos 3:7 “Surely the Lord God will do nothing, but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets.”, and Hebrews 13:8 “Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and today, and forever.” To me it looked like there was still precedence for God to speak. After a brief conversation with one of my pastors he admitted there is no Scriptural support for the closing of the canon. When I asked why we believed that, his response was church tradition.
Church tradition? Really? Isn’t that in part what the whole protestant reformation fought against. Didn’t Luther himself say he had to be convinced by Scripture to change his mind on his beliefs? Now I’m supposed to go to Neil and cite church tradition. Not likely. That conversation opened up the possibility to me that there could be new Scripture. Now my job was to find out if it was. Just as Thessalonians taught, I needed to “Prove all things”.
Meridian will run part 2 of Annmarie’s story on Monday.
