Line upon Line

As an adult convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I look back and realize my path was not particularly straightforward. My wife was already an active adult convert when we married in our thirties. For the next fourteen years, I supported her and my young stepson in their church activities. While not a member myself, my involvement placed me in the limbo of being a dry Mormon. I was present, even committed in many ways, but still not ready to enter the waters of baptism.

I’ve had a testimony of Jesus Christ for as long as I can remember. Where it came from, I cannot say—my parents were not churchgoers—but it was real. At the same time, I wrestled with what I perceived as the hypocrisy of organized religion. Like the young Joseph Smith, I had no idea which church, if any, was true. Unlike Joseph, however, I never entered a sacred grove to seek a definitive answer in prayer. I felt Christ’s presence in my life and had experienced the comfort and protection of the Holy Ghost—or at least what I sometimes thought of as a very busy guardian angel. For a long time, it seemed enough.

A couple of years before my marriage, I had even taken the missionary lessons. A friend and patrol partner from the LAPD introduced me to the church, but the lessons didn’t stick. When I married, I had did not feel I had the same quarrel with the Church as I had with other religions, yet I still convinced myself I needed to be logically converted before allowing myself to be spiritually or emotionally converted. In hindsight, I recognize this was, at least in part, a delaying tactic. Yet those years were not wasted. They became a season of preparation and growth.

During that time, I did not avoid the Church—far from it. I attended sacrament meetings faithfully, keeping myself tethered to the Saints. I read the Book of Mormon, studied LDS doctrine with intensity, and had long, earnest conversations with knowledgeable friends—friends who never pushed me to be baptized, trusting I would come to it in my own time. I accepted callings, from Cubmaster to co-chairing the Activities Committee with my wife. I planned ward Christmas parties and even wrote and directed two youth roadshows—remember those?

I paid tithing, insisting on doing so as soon as my wife and I were married. When I asked her to include my contribution, she hesitated, asking Are you sure? Somehow, it never occurred to me not to give, even though I had never done so before. Outwardly, I belonged. Every action, every gesture, bore the mark of commitment. And yet, in the quiet, shadowed corners of my heart, I was still wrestling.

My stepson spent a year at BYU and then left on his mission, which I fully encouraged and supported. My wife and I often had the missionaries over for dinner while he was away, but still, I waited for logic to convince me the Church was true.

I see now the challenge lay in my approach. Many who claim they want to be logically converted read the Book of Mormon or study the Restoration with a closed mind, searching only for reasons to disbelieve. Yet Moroni’s promise is clear: by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things, and I was well aware the witness of the Spirit does not come to the cynical, but to the sincere seeker who approaches with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ (Moroni 10:4).

So I chose the opposite path. I came with an open mind, actively searching for reasons to believe the gospel was true—and those reasons were abundant. I had, and still have, questions. But I came to understand that unanswered questions do not cancel out truths already received. As Elder Jeffrey R. Holland has counseled, when issues arise and answers are not immediately forthcoming, hold fast to what you already know and stand strong until more knowledge comes.

Through study, worship, and fellowship, I found answers which brought peace, assurance, and a deep witness that the Book of Mormon truly is another testament of Jesus Christ. That witness did not erase my questions, but it gave me something far greater—a foundation of faith.

To reconcile what I knew with what I did not, I created an imaginary Big Box o’ Questions. Whenever I faced something puzzling or troubling, I mentally placed it in my Big Box o’ Questions, set it on a high shelf, and moved forward with the testimony I already had. Over time, I would revisit the box. Occasionally, what once confused me had now become clear through study or spiritual growth. More often, I found the questions still unanswered. When that happened, I simply placed them back in my Big Box o’ Questions, put the box back up on its high shelf, and again continued walking in faith.

This practice taught me humility and patience. Not every answer is given immediately, and not every question is essential for salvation. As President Dieter F. Uchtdorf once reminded us, in this Church, we embrace truth wherever we find it. But we don’t claim to know everything. We claim that God does, and that He will reveal truth to us in His own time and way.

The turning point came when I realized the gospel and the doctrines of the Church could be distilled into two simple words—love and service. That understanding quieted the nagging voice of doubt and reminded me of what I was truly seeking. As Paul taught, Charity never faileth (1 Corinthians 13:8), and the Savior declared, By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another (John 13:35).

Logic gave me a thousand reasons to delay baptism, but it also revealed the greatest reason to move forward—the gospel of Jesus Christ is true. After years of wrestling with reason, I finally chose to listen to the still, small voice of the Spirit rather than the noisy arguments of the adversary. Those whispers carried more weight than all my intellectual striving. They told me what I had known all along—it was time to stop being a dry Mormon and step into the waters of baptism.

When I did, I found the peace and joy which had eluded me during those fourteen years of searching. My conversion was not the abandonment of logic, but the recognition logic alone could never deliver what the Spirit freely gives—a witness of truth, the cleansing power of Christ’s atonement, and the assurance of love and service being at the heart of discipleship.

In the end, conversion is both logical and spiritual. Logic can point us toward truth, but only faith allows us to embrace it. My journey taught me that while questions are natural, faith in Jesus Christ is essential. As President Russell M. Nelson declared, Faith in Jesus Christ is the greatest power available to us in this life. All things are possible to them that believe.

When faith and reason work together under the guidance of the Spirit, the result is not just belief, but true conversion—a commitment to follow the Savior with all your heart, might, mind, and strength.