No “Amazing Grace” and no cross jewelry. That should have been enough to convince me to leave, but it wasn’t. For nearly three years, I remained a committed member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
My conversion from Baptist youth group leader to Mormon missionary helper happened during my second year of college. Unlike a lot of dramatic lifestyle changes during young adulthood, mine was not an act of purposeful rebellion. It was quite the opposite, really. My freshman year of college was one of tremendous spiritual growth. For the first time, I found a group of peers who were as fervent about their faith as I was. We attended a small mission church planted by First Baptist Church Auburn called Village Chapel (now West Auburn Baptist Church.) I was the pianist for our church, as well as for the Auburn Baptist Student Union’s vocal ensemble. My discipleship group met regularly for Bible study, and I thoroughly enjoyed CWT (Continuing Witness Training) and other activities at the BSU.
So why would God allow me to fall for the subtle yet powerful deception of Mormonism? I asked myself that question for years.
It all started with a handsome baseball player. (Satan’s no dummy!) He seemed to be everything this “good” Baptist girl was looking for: he didn’t drink; he didn’t smoke; he didn’t watch R-rated movies; he was committed to the “law of chastity.” It wasn’t long, though, before I learned that all these behaviors that were so appealing to me were as a result of his faith in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
When I learned he was a Mormon, I was devastated. Our youth group at First Baptist Church Greenville had studied cults, and the LDS Church was one that we had studied. My new friend found it amusing that we had studied his church as a cult. Instead of being offended, though, he simply asked, “Have you ever even read the Book of Mormon?” I had not. He asked if I’d be willing to read it and then pray and ask God whether or not it’s true. That seemed harmless enough to me, so I agreed. He then added that God promised to reveal the truth of the Book of Mormon with a “burning in the bosom.” (By the way, please don’t try this at home. I’ve learned since then that this “promise from God” is found in LDS scriptures, not the Bible. Moroni 10:4 and Doctrine and Covenants 9:8. Satan loves to trick us by twisting God’s words. Sadly he knows the Bible better than many Christians.)
I proceeded to begin reading the Book of Mormon, with every intention of converting my Mormon friend to Christianity. Then the unexpected happened. As promised, when I finished reading the Book of Mormon, I knelt down in the living room of my apartment in Tuscaloosa to pray. I kind of rolled my eyes as I asked if the book I had just read was God’s word, and what happened next still draws my stomach into a knot. As I prayed, a burning sensation began in my toes and literally moved upward throughout my body. There was no doubt in my mind that this was the “burning in the bosom” my friend had told me was the Holy Spirit’s testimony to the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. If the Book of Mormon was true, then surely the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was also the one true church on earth, as it claims to be.
I was devastated. I knew my family and friends would be so upset with me. But I also knew what I had experienced, and I longed to obey God more than man. As difficult and painful as it was, I left the Baptist church at that point and was baptized into the LDS church.
The next two-and-a-half to three years are somewhat of a blur. I met some wonderful people, and I learned some great life skills. My baseball player friend and I dated for a few months, but that relationship didn’t last. It took a downhill turn when he told me he wanted to have NINE children to form his own baseball team, so it was good that I had CHILD-BEARING HIPS! Despite our break-up, I continued in my devotion to the local ward (church) by leading music for the children, attending various classes, and serving as church organist. Some of my absolute favorite college memories are of time spent with missionaries, who were about the same age as me. The “sisters” and I had so much fun together.
Then God began drawing me back to Himself. One of the things I love most about God is how personal His love for us is. Truly, I feel like the one lost sheep Jesus left the ninety-nine to go and find. The way He led me back to the fold would not have worked for most people, but it was the perfect way for me.
As a broadcast news/communication major, I was particularly intrigued by the fact that the LDS church made a large percentage of its financial investments in media outlets. (Told you it was unique!) I found that to be quite odd. The reporter in me wanted to know why. I wasn’t particularly skeptical of the investing strategy, but I was just curious about the choice. I asked our local bishop, but he didn’t know why. I asked several local church members who also didn’t know, so I did what any good reporter would have done: I called the main church office in Salt Lake City.
The poor receptionist didn’t know what to do with me. “Hi, my name is Tracy Golden. I’m a member of the Tuscaloosa Alabama Ward, and I’m curious as to why such a large percentage of the church’s investment budget goes to purchasing media outlets.” Bless her heart. After several moments of silence, she transferred me to someone, who then forwarded my call to someone else, who passed me along to another unsuspecting soul.
Eventually, I reached someone who was able to converse intelligently with me about the admittedly unusual question I had raised. I explained to him that I wasn’t offended by the investment strategy; I was genuinely curious as to the reasons why. The kind gentleman on the other end of the line answered my questions with questions of his own.
“Sister Golden, what’s the most important thing we as church members are to do?” he asked.
“Share the gospel,” I said.
“And what better way is there to control the dissemination of the gospel message than by controlling the media?” he asked.
Now I was the one who was speechless. I had my answer, and the Holy Spirit went to work in my heart and mind.
With the Salt Lake City church official’s answer never far from my thoughts, I continued my studies into how to prepare and deliver news. I was taught the importance of remaining neutral as a reporter, to simply gather the facts and share them clearly with the audience–all the while intrigued by my church’s strategy to shape the media’s message in its favor. This just didn’t settle well with me. I was aware of controversial reports from the Mormon church’s past, and Joseph Smith himself was certainly not without his critics. If all that the LDS Church taught and stood for was really from God, why would there be reason to control the content of reports about it? Surely God is big and powerful enough to take care of Himself. “The truth shall set you free” permeated my heart and mind during those weeks.
Then one glorious Sunday morning on the way to church, the Truth did set me free. I was on the way to lead music with the children during Sunday School then play organ during the worship service when it dawned on me. While sitting at the intersection of McFarland Boulevard and Hargrove Road, I realized that the Jesus of the LDS Church is not the same Jesus I had given my life to as a young child. The Mormon Jesus’ name may be the same, but His character is quite different. My Jesus did not sugar coat His message to make it more palatable to people. He shared truth from the Father, unfiltered and in spite of the personal consequences to Himself. In fact, it was His “sticking to the script” that eventually led Him to the cross where He took on the sins of the world. I continued the drive to church that morning, but only to hand off my music to a friend. I left that day, never to return.
Early on in my Mormon days, my morally upright baseball player friend proudly showed me the LDS hymnal one day. Having grown up in the deep south with a familiarity with Baptist ways, he proudly pointed out that I wouldn’t find the hymn “Amazing Grace” in it. “There’s so much more to it than just grace!” he said. Another time, he asked me, “Why do so many people who claim to be Christians wear cross jewelry? We don’t wear crosses. Why would we want to brag about the way one of our leaders was murdered?!?”
God has taught me so much since my side trip through Mormonism. I wish I had known then what I know now, but without that part of the journey, perhaps I wouldn’t know it at all. Jesus was not murdered. He could have called ten thousand angels to deliver Him, but instead He willingly suffered a more cruel death than I can even imaging as the punishment for my sins and yours. What wondrous, unfathomable love. What absolutely amazing grace! As hard as it is to accept, there really is not more to it than that. “For by grace we are saved through faith, and that not of ourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works lest anyone should boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9 We prideful humans wish we could control our own destinies, but humility requires us to admit that Jesus has done for us what we could never do for ourselves. Gratitude and good works will inevitably follow.
In the years since leaving the Mormon Church, I’ve had other detours, but perhaps none quite as formative. My love for Jesus has grown, as has my desire to know Him more. For that reason alone, the struggles and confusion were worthwhile. He has answered many of my questions, and yet many still remain. Throughout the journey, though, God has remained faithful. Oh, for grace to trust Him more.
“Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen.” Jude 24-25
The Journey 