Mormons = Christians?

Saw a disturbing documentary this weekend entitled “Jesus Camp”. Seeing this reminded me of something that has been on my mind for ages. I spent the last few years of my childhood and the whole of my teenage experience in Clovis, a California suburb near Fresno. I always knew that my religion set me apart. I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, which is commonly known as the Mormon Church. I was born into the church and have attended nearly every Sunday my entire life. I know that as a child, both at home and at church, I was taught that I am a child of God, that we should follow the golden rule, and that God loved us so much that He sent His Son to die for us. I learned all about the life of Jesus Christ, including His miraculous conception and humble birth in Bethlehem, the beginning of His ministry at age 12 in the temple, His baptism by John the Baptist, His temptations in the wilderness, His parables and teachings, and culminating with His suffering for our sins in Gethsemane and cruel death on the cross at Golgotha. Not only did I believe in Christ, but I knew about Him and His life and I loved Him. I had been taught these things and others for as long as I can recall. This is perhaps why the experiences I’m going to relate next had such an impact on me.

When I was a freshman in high school, I was playing on the high school water polo team. I saw an advertisement for an organization called the Fellowship of Christian Athletes and noticed that they were going to have a meeting and would be serving lunch. Now, as most growing 14-year-old young men, I was always up for a free lunch. I also thought it was cool that there were other athletes who knew about Christ, for most of my teammates didn’t seem too excited about following the standards that I been taught to follow. I really thought this would be a great thing for me to meet some people who shared my beliefs and my standards who were also athletes. I walked in the door and was quickly greeted by some smiles and kind words. As a freshman at a large high school, this is a rare and cherished experience. What sport did I play? Are you hungry, the food is over here. Eventually came the, “Which church do you go to?” My answer, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.” This answer, as usual, was met with blank stares, to which I quickly added, “I’m a Mormon.” Silence. Not a quiet reverence, but something colder, almost hateful. Then the remarks, “Mormons aren’t Christian. What are you doing here?” and “You don’t worship Jesus, but some guy who was a treasure hunter.” also “You don’t believe in the Bible cause you’ve got your own.” These were not questions but statements, and they were not accompanied by the smiles and kind tones that had greeted me moments earlier. These were accusations that I was different, I didn’t belong with them, and I wasn’t welcome. For the first time that I can remember, I felt discriminated against. I was not wanted simply for what my religion is. These people didn’t know me at all, all they knew was that I was a Mormon and that was a good enough reason to quickly change from kindness to cruelty.

As a 14-year-old, I was struggling with many things internally. I had grown 8 inches in a year and was lanky and a bit awkward. I had minor acne issues. I had loving parents and a great family, but at 14, instead of turning to them for strength, I had everything figured out already, at least I thought I did. I didn’t share problems with anyone when I had them; I still don’t for that matter, but prefer to deal with them internally. I was a bright kid. I could figure anything out. This is a product of a quick mind and fierce independence, traits that are both genetic and have been ingrained in me since my birth. Now, my religion, my very soul, was the subject of ridicule at the hands of some “Christian” athletes. I soon came to realize that my high school was full of “Christians” who, once they found out I was Mormon, immediately went into attack mode, like I was the product of something evil and must be shot down. I didn’t handle this very well. Instead of being proud of what I was and sticking close to the religion that at the time I held dear, I distanced myself. I found myself telling others, when religion came up, that I was a Christian in order to avoid the attack. I tried hard to not let others know that I was a Mormon. I was doing exactly the opposite of what I had been taught – I was ashamed of who I was and what I believed in (Romans 1:16).

In spite of this, my high school experience was pretty good in most aspects. I ended up with decent grades and good SAT/ACT scores, good enough to earn me academic scholarships to several schools. I became captain of the water polo team and played in the valley all-star game as a senior. I found that I have a knack for math, science, and photography. I had several girlfriends and enjoyed going to winter formals and proms. All aspects of my life were good, except for the religious things that I had been neglecting since my freshman year to avoid discrimination and ridicule. This neglect was internal in its nature, as I continued to attend church with my family every Sunday and even managed to attend the high school scripture-study course every morning before 1st period. All of this I did in action only. My heart was far from it. I had distanced myself from these things. I still managed to live the standards that I had been taught, mainly because most of them seemed logical to me. I’d seen enough drunk friends passing out and vomiting everywhere to not have any desire to drink. Being kind always seemed like the right thing to do, and though I wasn’t a saint, I was a pretty nice kid most of the time. The one standard that was tough for me was morality, but I didn’t have a steady girlfriend long enough to be too tempted to have sex either. I had been taught to save sexual relations for marriage and luckily ended up doing so. I firmly believe that the reason I didn’t ever have the opportunity is because I wouldn’t have been able to resist it (1 Corinthians 10:13).

My senior year of high school, the subject of our early morning classes was the life and teachings of Jesus Christ and His apostles, namely the New Testament. I wanted to know – am I Christian? Well, I believe in Christ. I believe He died to save us from our sins. He set a perfect example about how to live. Why wasn’t I Christian? What exactly was the definition of being a Christian? I looked it up. Here’s what Webster says: Christian – a person who has received Christian baptism or believes in Jesus Christ or his teachings. Well, I had been baptized when I was 8 and believed in Jesus Christ and His teachings. According to Webster, I qualified. Why didn’t I qualify in the eyes of many of my peers at school? I researched this problem further and came to a realization. In their eyes, I wasn’t a Christian because my understanding of the nature of Jesus Christ mainly, and some of his teachings, are so different than their own. I believe in the version of Jesus Christ from the New Testament. He was born of Mary, but begotten of God the Father. Somehow, Mary became pregnant with baby Jesus. He has a mortal mother and an immortal perfect father, who is God the Father. This gave him power over death, but the important quality of being able to die if he so dictated. This also means to me that God the Father and Jesus Christ are separate and distinct personages. This was manifest also at the baptism of Christ, when he had come up out of the water, the voice of the Father was heard declaring that He was pleased. Jesus Christ was killed on the cross at Golgotha, and three days later he rose again, a perfect, immortal being. He showed Himself to many people. He ate food and people touched him – in short, He had a physical body. Eventually, he ascended into Heaven to join His Father. He did not leave His body here – it went with him. This is the Jesus Christ I know and love. This is not the Jesus Christ that “Christians” worship. I don’t know exactly how to describe what they believe Jesus Christ is, but I know it is different than my view. Our differences are doctrinal, but most of the things Jesus Christ taught we all believe in. I still don’t understand where the hate comes from. Actually, I have a strong suspicion where this malice is rooted.

Since my time in high school, I’ve served a mission for my church. I lived in Southern Africa for two years preaching about Jesus Christ. I have become fully converted to my religion by following the teachings of James 1:5 and John 14:26, where I asked God by prayer whether the things I had been taught were correct. I received an answer by the Comforter that in fact what I had learned is true.

I live in Miami now, so I don’t encounter many “Christians”. Miami is very Catholic, Jewish and atheist. Seeing Jesus Camp this last weekend reminded me of the experiences I had when I was younger and it was not pleasant. I’m happy to be here where although I’m still in the religious minority, I’m not persecuted or discriminated against. When people find out here I’m Mormon, the comments and questions I get are never mean spirited. People are curious and kind. They are very tolerant and accepting of others beliefs. Living in Miami has taught me many things. I’m not only in the religious minority, but there are not many tall, non-Spanish speaking men of European descent here either. I have become a more tolerant and loving person as a result. My empathy for others has increased. I have experienced diverse cultures, customs, and food and have been richly rewarded. In sum, I have become more like the Man I wish to emulate, more full of love. If I could only use one word to describe Jesus Christ it would be love. That is what He is. That is what He promises. That is what I’m striving to become. That is not what I felt when dealing with “Christians” in my past or what I felt when watching Jesus Camp. I do not refer to myself as a “Christian” anymore. I want to dissociate myself as far from that group as possible. I declare proudly that I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I’m a Mormon.

Happy 4th of July!

Happy Independence Day! This is one of my favorite holidays of the year. I love meeting in the morning for a breakfast with friends. I love spending the afternoon swimming and enjoying family. I love lighting the fireworks you can purchase and then gathering on a blanket to watch a professional fireworks display. I love the music celebrating this great nation. And I love this country.

For two years of my life, I lived outside of the United States of America. You’ve heard the expression that you don’t truly appreciate family until you’ve lived away from them and I can say the same thing about America. I can also say that living here in Miami is more like living out of the country than in it. Every time I visit somewhere besides Miami, even a place as close as Ft. Lauderdale, I am reminded how much I love America and can’t wait to move back.

The United States provides opportunities to speak your mind about nearly every issue without fear of being thrown into prison or killed. You can go on national TV and criticize the job the President is doing and you will not be punished, and may be celebrated depending on the President. Freedom of speech is guaranteed, regardless of how offensive it can be to certain groups. When discussing something my father and I had heard that was offensive, my father said, “We may not agreed with that, but should be willing to die to protect his right to say it.”

I am very grateful for the freedom of religion, one of the tenets upon which this country was founded. As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (the Mormon Church), I have found that this freedom doesn’t necessarily mean freedom from persecution. Now, the government is not supposed to favor any religion above another, or above no religion at all, and I have not been subject to this form of persecution. Persecution by members of different religions, on the other hand, has been plentiful, both for me individually and the church collectively. In fact, I would say that throughout the history of this country, our church has been one of the most persecuted. Typically, this comes at the hands of “Christians” as I’ll generically label the disparate protestant sects and is generally on points of doctrine that we differ, not necessarily moral values. In recent years, many Mormons have united with “Christians” on moral issues, especially politically, to elect representatives that will use government to uphold values that we find to be not just important, but vital to the continued prosperity of this great nation. This unification to gain political power seems to be a one-way street. The “Christians” are happy to get our votes for their candidate(s), but be damned if they’re going to vote of one of ours.

I’m thankful that I can walk down the street reading what I wish, that I can choose any career that suits me, and then change it on a whim whenever I feel like it. I’m happy that I may one day own a part of this nation, that my children can grow up here away from the pain and turmoil that faces so much of the world. I’m thankful for a political process that never focuses too much power in one area, that respects privacy, and that would rather let a hundred guilty men walk free than imprison one innocent one. Freedom is a special thing that many of us take for granted. In the immortal words of a classic song, I will conclude – “I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free. And I won’t forget the men who died who gave that right to me. And I’ll gladly stand up next to you to defend Her still today. ‘Cause there aint no doubt I love this land, God bless the USA.”