u/MikeRayGarcia

When I was 11, we were living in Japan on Misawa Air Base. A local Japanese family wanted me to come stay the weekend with them.

I was super excited about it. I packed all my things, they pull up in front of our house. I say bye to my family and hop in their car.

As we start driving away, I remembered that I am a really picky eater. They probably were going to want me to eat sushi.

The cold grip of utter fear squeezes my little stomach.

This was the most dangerous situation I’ve ever been in as kid.

So what does a little Mormon boy do? He prays.

I prayed hard.

The hardest anyone has ever prayed.

No man has ever come close.

Not even 14 year old Joseph in the Sacred Grove.

“Heavenly Father! Please! I need your help! If you really love me, you will spare me! I promise I’ll be good! I can’t eat Sushi!”

Just as I was praying my heart out, the mother turns to me and asks, “Do you like McDonald’s?”

“YES!”

“Well we can go have McDonald’s for dinner, then we’ll go to the grocery store and you can pick anything you’d like to eat for the weekend.”

THANK YOU, GOD!

I KNEW YOU WERE REAL!

YOU REALLY DO LOVE ME!

These were exactly the kind of experiences you shared in church and especially in testimony meetings.

A testimony meeting happens once a month, usually on the first Sunday. People fast and pray and then rather than having assigned speakers, it’s an open mic night.

Anyone from the congregation can get up and bear their testimony in front of everyone.

Little kids are always encouraged to go on up and say things like, “I know Heavenwy Fatha wuvs me. I wuv my famiwee. In da name of Jeesas Cwyst, Amen!” (Typing that out, sounded more like Elmer Fudd, but you get what I was going for.)

A lot of people share their miracles and blessings. So many stories about lost keys, purses and wallets being found as soon as they prayed for help.

I told that McDonald’s story in testimony meetings and used it on my mission. I wasn’t faking it. Everyone laughs.

The more extreme certainty I used, the more people loved it.

I could feel it.

In every other area of life, being completely certain about something you have zero evidence for is a red flag.

People organize interventions for that.

But in church we call it a testimony and shove a microphone in your face.

This trained me to notice coincidences every day of my life and frame them as revelation or lessons from God.

So if the average human lives for 30,000 days.

And something has a 1/1000 chance of happening, throughout your life you’ll experience it around 30 times.

Now add in everything else with better odds and your list starts growing fast.

I claimed some coincidences as messages from God.

My brother claims all coincidences as messages from God.

And that gap, makes all the difference.

There are never any coincidences in his life. God is always sending him messages.

“I was thinking of a song and when I walked into the store, they were playing it on the speakers! God was telling me that he knows what I’m thinking!”

He uses the same logic and pattern-matching to also believe in flat earth, lizard people, aliens, any conspiracy you can probably think of. He’s on board.

It makes sense though, if God is always sending him messages, then God is probably controlling his social media feed. So there is a reason Nazis keep showing up while he scrolls TikTok.

Once he started sharing his antisemitic views is when the rest of my family realized this was becoming a serious issue.

“How can he believe this stuff?!”

“It’s so obvious none of THAT is real!”

We tried talking to him, but we couldn’t convince him that these things weren’t true.

I started showing him videos debunking flat earth and how the holocaust was real.

Nothing works.

Why can’t he see the logic? Not every coincidence means something!

It’s not like he grew up in an organization that incentivized him into thinking that every little thing has a deeper meaning behind it… right?

Who has the right to tell him that these Instagram Reels aren’t being put in front of him as special things God needs him to know?

He has told me, “I think the prophets and apostles know this stuff is true. But most members aren’t ready to accept it yet.”

The church can’t fix this.

This isn’t just a side effect, this is the main effect. The church expects that we’ll have our own intellectual guardrails.

But in a radical religious person’s eyes, they think moderates aren’t taking religion seriously enough.

How can a bishop tell a member they can’t receive direct revelation from God through their microwave?

“The Lord only communicates through church approved appliances.”

There is absolutely no way the church can tell someone how to receive and interpret their own personal revelations.

As long as you got SOME kind of revelation pointing you to the church doors, then that works!

The problem is that still leaves plenty of room for people to become extreme conspiracy theorists.

What the church hopes they learn, is how to be more tactful with revelations.

If our microwave member instead phrases their revelation as, “When heating up my chicken, this reminded me that the Lord does similar things to make us feel a burning in our bosom.”

That’s the kind of metaphor you hear from the highest ranking members of the church.

But it’s still just as crazy.

You can’t expect people to question their conspiracy beliefs without also questioning their church beliefs.

It’s all tied together for them.

Plus, how much weirder is it to get revelation from a microwave than a rock inside a hat?

The only real way out is to question your beliefs. To leave room for pure coincidence. To learn how probability actually works.

Those aren’t things the church can hand members struggling with extreme beliefs.

Because those methods don’t stop at flat earth, aliens, and antisemitism.

They come for everything.

They teach you how to think critically about what you believe.

Once you pull that thread, you can’t control where it goes.

I pulled it.

It can be very destabilizing.

But every tug is worth it.

And today, I actually love sushi.

---

TL;DR

When I was a kid I prayed harder than any human in history to avoid eating sushi while staying with a Japanese family. God answered my prayer when the family took me out to McDonald's.

I was trained by the church that every coincidence was actually revelation and blessings from god. When you bare testimony about these coincidences people respond more positively when you sound more certain, and that reinforces this behavior.

When something has a 1/1,000 chance of happening once a day of your life, you can have that happen 30 different times over the average lifespan. Crazy coincidences are actually pretty common.

My brother was raised in the same environment and he views every coincidence as a message from god. He also now believes Flat Earth, Lizard People, and now antisemitic content in his social media feeds.

I've heard my brother say he thinks the prophets and apostles know these conspiracies are true, but the Mormons aren't ready to hear it yet.

The church can't help people like him because the same critical thinking skills needed to disbelieve these conspiracy theories are the same ones that threaten the church's authority.

I hear footsteps, two sets.

A door opens in the other room.

“I got two by me!”

“Dammit, don’t engage! We’ll be right there!”

“I’m spotted!”

“Mike, do a scan and highlight ‘em!”

“I can scan?”

“Q! Hit Q!”

The next 20 seconds are a blur. Smokes get popped, bullets fly everywhere. People are jumping off walls, sliding through the halls.

Everyone is yelling.

Abilities get used, gadgets, grenades are thrown.

I’m down, but my teammates finish the last guy. We wipe the squad.

This is the second time I’ve played Apex Legends with these guys. It’s a pretty fun online fps battle royale.

My giant monitor in my basement lights up the entire room while I’m sitting in front of it with my headset on. I’m chatting with my teammates in Discord.

“That was close! You got one before you went down, nice work!”

“Well, he kind of just jumped into my crosshairs.”

The night was going really well, we hadn’t won a game but we were still having fun. I met these guys a while ago. They both stopped going to church a long time before I did. We kinda bonded over that as we played.

Later that night one of them mentions something about his uncle receiving his second anointing.

Both me and the other guy are like, “what’s that?”

“You guys haven’t heard about it? It’s one of the juiciest secrets that they don’t tell you about. It’s THE most secret ordinance in the church!”

He begins to tell us how if the church leadership thinks you have potential of joining their ranks, then one of the apostles (one of the fifteen highest leaders in the entire Mormon church) will invite you to come to the temple with your spouse to perform a special type of ceremony.

“A lot of stake presidents, mission presidents, and temple presidents get invited.”

We started looting another building while he kept talking.

“Once all the couples that were invited to gather up in a special room with an apostle. After the apostle gives them instructions and lets them in on what’s about to happen, he then goes around and washes everyone’s feet.”

My stomach drops.

I’ve heard about this before.

I was on my mission, it was at a zone conference. A big meeting where all the missionaries from around a huge area get together for a training meeting with their mission president.

At this meeting, there was a Q&A and I was taking notes during the entire thing, as usual. I remember my mission president said the practice of washing feet is still an ordinance practiced in the temples today.

I thought that was such a cool thing, I talked about it to my companion and speculated about how maybe the prophet washes the apostles’ feet just like Jesus did.

“Hey guys let’s run into this building over here, there’s always good loot in here.”

We head into the building. At this point my mind isn’t really in the game, I’m kind of on auto pilot while taking in everything he was saying.

“Mike, go check down that hall. I’ll cover this one. So anyways, in the ceremony they have the wives give the guys a blessing, and through all this is when they get their calling and election made sure.”

My brain goes AFK.

The last time I heard that phrase “calling and election made sure” was AGAIN when I was on my mission at ANOTHER zone conference.

A missionary asked our mission president for more info on what “calling and election made sure” means. He explains it’s when someone has proven themselves worthy enough while on Earth to be guaranteed exaltation in the highest glory in the highest level of heaven. He also mentioned how he knows people that have received it.

This blew my mind as a missionary. You can be guaranteed Heaven? BEFORE Judgment Day?! That sounds like a bug, someone is gonna need to patch that ASAP.

My mission president was dropping hints about this super secret ritual. But he couldn’t tell us directly how he knew about it.

I thought that once you got your endowment, you were equal with everyone else in the church. I thought that was as high as you go. I heard church leaders talk about how no matter if you’re a lawyer or a janitor, we were all the same in the celestial room.

There was another secret level this entire time? And the most devoted members, the ones who trusted the institution completely, don’t even know it exists.

I wondered if my parents knew about this.

Most Mormons go to the temple one or two times a year.

My parents are not casual temple goers.

My dad served as a Nurse in the Air Force. The only time my parents didn’t go to the temple that often was when we were stationed far away from one overseas.

When we lived in northern Japan, it took TWELVE hours for us to drive to the closest temple in Tokyo. ONE WAY. We went at least once a year.

Also these weren’t a normal twelve hour trip. The van we had would play a loud annoying bell whenever you go over 100km (62 miles) per hour. We heard that damn bell the entire time!

Then later when we were stationed in Guam, we would fly to Korea, JUST to go to the temple.

After my dad retired, we moved to San Antonio and my parents picked a house right next to… you guessed it, a temple.

Both my parents spend hours each week volunteering at the temple. My mom is the laundry coordinator. She talks about how it’s such a blessing for her to help out wherever she can.

The temple president has told me that the temple baptistry couldn’t run without all the work my mom does in the laundry room.

That night I laid in bed just thinking about them.

I felt bad if they didn’t know. They’d want to know, right?

They NEED to know.

I know what it’s like for people to know stuff about secret temple rituals and be kept out of the loop. It doesn’t feel good. I never want to do that to someone else.

ESPECIALLY not my parents.

The next day, I take out my phone and stare at my Dad’s contact screen.

I hate talking about negative church stuff to them. When I told them I was stepping away from the church, it really worried them. But I’m grateful that we still have a strong relationship.

I called and we talked about usual stuff, I was on speaker with my mom.

My dad knew something was bothering me.

“Everything ok?”

I asked if they’re familiar with the second anointing.

“Nope, what’s that?”

… oh god

“It’s a ceremony they perform for people who are higher up in the church ranks. You never heard of anything like that?”

“I don’t think so.”

I start to tell them what I gathered from my friend and how it lined up with what I heard from my mission president.

“Hmm well that’s an interesting connection. But it sounds like it’s just a rumor. I wouldn’t put too much thought into it.”

I could tell this wasn’t something they were going to believe. At least I let them know, I can feel content with at least trying.

This wasn’t the first concern I let them know about, and it wouldn’t be the last.

It’s just hard.

My mom will be in the laundry room multiple times a week covering other people’s shifts so they can spend time with their families. She does it all with a big smile on her face.

The temple president will walk by.

He’ll give her a big hug.

Thank her for everything she sacrifices for the temple.

Yet somehow she’s still not trusted with all of its secrets.

---

TL;DR

I’m playing video games with a couple ex-Mormons when one casually brings up the Second Anointing. As he explains what it is, a bunch of strange things my mission president said years earlier suddenly click into place. I realize there’s a secret temple ordinance reserved for higher-ups that even the most faithful members don’t know about.

I immediately think of my parents, who have dedicated countless hours serving in the temple, and feel like they deserve to know. When I ask them about it, they’ve never heard of it and assume it’s just a rumor. The whole experience leaves me wondering why some of the church’s most devoted members are still kept in the dark about its biggest secrets.

Imagine, if you will, you were born into a family that only ate fry sauce. No ranch, salsa, barbecue, or sweet and sour.

Just fry sauce.

For the unenlightened, fry sauce is what you get when you mix ketchup and mayonnaise. It’s God’s gift to Utah.

You attend a group where you get dressed up and bear testimony on how fry sauce is the one true dipping sauce.

They send you on a mission to another country, you tell people how great it is. After two years, you come home and marry a spouse who feels the same way about fry sauce.

You have kids and teach them the same thing.

You never really looked into other sauces, or tried anything else. Why would you when you got lucky enough to be born into a fry sauce family?

Most people believe the faith they were born into is the correct one. Globally across all different religions, 91% of people on average never leave the faith they were born into.

That is a lot of people that don’t question the belief that shapes the view of themselves, others, relationships, community, country, world, life, after life, and their entire concept of reality.

It’s very popular and easy to just believe in the God of your parents.

All the cool kids do it.

The fry sauce I was born into was Mormonism. The leader of our church at the time was President Gordon B. Hinckley. He was like a grandfather to me, always cheerful and giving good advice.

I would sleep through most of the other speakers during conference sessions, but when he spoke I knew he was speaking for Jesus Christ Himself.

One of the things he said always stuck with me.

“Each of us has to face the matter—either the Church is true, or it is a fraud. There is no middle ground. It is the Church and kingdom of God, or it is nothing.“

It felt like he was daring us to see if the church wasn’t true. There was a lot of confidence in those words.

I felt assured. I didn’t need to doubt.

After I graduated from BYU-Idaho, I moved to Utah. I was looking for two things, a wife and job opportunities. Utah county provided lots of single ladies and tech jobs. It was perfect.

While working as a software developer, I would attend Institute (religious classes during the week for college students). The classes I loved attending were the ones on church history.

I asked questions in class and made a lot of jokes.

I’d keep an eye out if there were any girls in class laughing. If I saw any I’d chat with them after class and ask them out. I spent a lot of money at Jamba Juice. I can’t believe I never got a rewards card.

There was one class where we were discussing polygamy. The teacher mentioned how some men had to build separate houses because their wives couldn’t get along.

I asked, “Why couldn’t they get along? I thought Joseph Smith said that you could only marry another wife if your first wife approves of it.”

The teacher paused, looked at me and gave a half smile, “Well, if they actually did it that way, it probably would have worked out a lot better.”

He then continued with the lesson. But I didn’t.

This wasn’t the first time I learned an ugly truth about the church.

Every time felt disturbing.

I was already aware of a few of them. And each time I learned one, it felt like a stab in the heart.

This wasn’t just a typical organization, this was my life. This was the church that my family and friends are dedicating their existence to.

“It is the Church and kingdom of God, or it is nothing.”

I needed to know what the church really was, not what I wanted it to be.

So I looked.

And then I couldn’t stop looking.

Church history was already a subject I loved, and this was like getting to go to the Restricted Section in the Hogwarts Library.

I could have made it into the Olympics. I was jumping through logical hoops left and right, making more and more excuses, and getting worse at pretending I wasn’t.

I remember the last temple recommend interview I had. The stake president said, “I have three sons around your age. They all left the church. You said you have never gone inactive. What’s your secret?”

I told him, “I learned there is a lot of evidence against Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. But it still makes me happy. Even if I can’t prove it’s true.”

After leaving his office I remember looking at my new recommend and hearing Pres. Hinckley’s words,

“...either the Church is true, or it is a fraud.”

Maybe I don’t have to believe it. I can just show up and enjoy the community. I won’t take the doctrine and teachings too seriously. So what if it’s all made up, I’m here to make good friends and serve others.

But I knew I couldn’t do that. It wasn’t intellectually honest.

“There is no middle ground.”

During the next few years, I slowly stopped bearing my testimony. No more funny comments in class followed by a wink to the ladies. Stopped attending institute. I sat further and further back in church meetings.

I slowly stopped going to church. I thought more people would reach out. I thought I would need to defend my decision to leave.

That never happened.

I was always chatting with everyone after church, institute classes, FHE, activities throughout the week. I remember the Sundays where I would sleep in, wake up, check my phone to see if anyone reached out to see where I was.

Nothing.

All of that was gone.

It was pretty lonely.

I still studied the church’s history and current affairs, almost as a way to solidify that I made the right decision. The more I looked the more it confirmed what I found.

I felt betrayed.

During those times, I cried a lot more than I care to admit.

They were manly tears though, each one flexing their biceps as they left my cheeks.

Not having to do so much church stuff all week gave me a lot of free time. I binged a lot of shows on Netflix. While doing that I ended up watching a lot of documentaries on cults. Hearing the victims talk about their heartache, their trauma, and psychological torment.

I really felt for them. I know what it’s like to want things to be true.

When the foundation you were so sure about starts to wobble, it’s scary.

It helps when you have people going through what you are.

Eventually, one of my old mission companions and I went out with a few of our other friends for dinner. Afterwards, the two of us hung out and chatted about how things were going.

The sun was setting. The wind began to get a little chilly. The neon lights from the surrounding businesses lit up the parking lot.

He mentioned some things about the church.

I was hesitant, but I started telling him I stopped attending.

When I was done talking, he just stared at me.

“I can’t believe it…SAME HERE!”

He began to tell me his story, and how he’s been having doubts. Immediately we were going back and forth about all the absurdities. It was obvious and obscured at the same time. We laughed and vented for a while.

My shoulders felt lighter.

I’m not alone.

I started being more vocal online and posting things that were skeptical about organized religion and Christianity.

All of a sudden I was getting a lot of old friends and acquaintances reaching out.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way!”

“I’ve been dying to talk to someone about this!”

“Yes! Me too!”

I still have people that reach out who are looking for others who have left.

It’s not so bad when you know you are not the only one.

There is no middle ground. And honestly, the truth tastes a lot better than fry sauce.

---

TLDR: Raised to believe there was no middle ground, from Hinckley's quote,

“Each of us has to face the matter—either the Church is true, or it is a fraud. There is no middle ground. It is the Church and kingdom of God, or it is nothing.“

I eventually put that claim to the test. Losing my faith cost me certainty, community, and belonging, but it gave me something I valued even more, the truth.

It was a Tuesday, I liked going to the temple on Tuesdays, really just because “Temple Tuesday” sounds better than any other day of the week.

I’ve been working at NuSkin for a few years and the Provo City Center temple just opened next door. My boss volunteers at the temple a lot too. Every week he lets me take a long lunch to do an endowment session.

You first head to the locker room, and change out of street clothes. Everyone wears white, dresses, shoes, ties, ill-fitting pants, all of it is white, just like most of the people in attendance.

I pick my seat, usually choosing one with an empty space between me and an old guy so our elbows aren’t fighting over the arm rest.

The walls are covered with paintings of nature, mountains, clouds, and random animals. There was this cougar that I know was only there for BYU fans.

After the attendants in the front tell you to absolutely never tell anyone about what happens in there, the lights dim and the movie begins.

Everyone brings a temple packet with them into the session. It’s just a pillow case that holds all the robes and the green apron you put on during the session.

Oh, and the hat. That thing is in the packet too, unfortunately. It’s like a tiny version of a chef’s hat. I guarantee the hat you are picturing in your mind is still nicer than what we have to wear. Look it up and you’ll see what I mean.

My pillow case is full of soft robes inside and when the movie comes on the big screen, I like to sit back and use it as a headrest before having to dress in all of its contents.

They have a few different movies they play. It’s always the same story about Adam and Eve, but with different actors. I think they choose it randomly.

I always say a little prayer and hope it’s the one with the Hot Eve. That was a custom I picked up from the MTC. Would you expect anything less from a bunch of horny 19 year old guys who swore off women for the next 2 years? But yeah, I’m in my 30s and still do it, sue me.

I’ve seen the temple movies so many times I can mouth all the words. And I know Satan’s acting is always WAY over the top, but I love it.

At one point the movie reveals that Adam’s premortal name was Michael.

In Hebrew Michael means “One who is like God”. I actually used that at school as a way to help people remember MY name. And no, I’ve never been hit by lightning.

While the movie goes, there is a point where God shows Adam and Eve the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. You know how this goes.

God says, “Multiply, replenish the Earth. Also don’t eat anything from this tree.”

Adam is like, “I’m never eating anything from that tree!”

Eve, “Same-sies!”

And Satan goes, “Bet!”

Eve eats the fruit and they get kicked out of the garden. Mormons see this as a good thing because they believe Adam and Eve were physically incapable of having kids while in the garden.

While Adam was more straight-laced, uptight, and refused to eat the fruit. I always thought Eve was the brave one. She noticed the commandments contradicted each other and acted. She knew she needed to eat the fruit in order to fulfill the first commandment. Adam was a little too focused on what NOT to do.

I related more to Eve than I could to Adam. Being skeptical, asking tough questions, it’s hard but it’s honest. I think it shows a desire for greater understanding.

Eve was in the garden questioning commandments. I’m in the temple questioning this goofy hat and apron.

Now it’s at this point in the movie that I always think, if God hand selected Eve to do this, it’s because He knew exactly what she would do. The plan requires her to sin in order for it all to work.

I can remember how in the Missionary Training Center we’d hammer away at the deeper doctrine to really understand all the parts of God’s plan.

One of the teachings was that we were all eternal intelligences. We existed as long as God has. He didn’t create us from nothing, he took our intelligences and gave us spirit bodies, in his image.

Once God created all of the souls of humanity, we gathered for a giant debate to decide who would be the savior, Jesus or Lucifer.

Jesus won. The spirits who chose him got to come to Earth.

God then cast out Lucifer (making him “Satan”) along with one third of all our brothers and sisters into outer darkness, damned for all eternity.

In the MTC this is the kinda stuff that blows your mind and makes you feel proud that you were smart enough to choose the Lord.

The session ends, and as a reward for remembering all the secret names and handshakes, you get to go into the Celestial Room of the temple.

Every time I enter, I wonder if this is what it’ll be like walking into heaven. Surrounded by friends and family, everyone is so happy and surprised to see I made it. Probably a lot of hugs and tears.

The Celestial Room is always quiet. People whisper if they need to say anything.

A giant opulent chandelier hangs in the middle. Elegant furniture is arranged giving people plenty of space to sit, pray, and reflect. The carpet is soft. Stained-glass windows.

I find a corner chair.

The plan is still fresh in my mind, along with the choices I made to get here.

So why doesn’t any of this feel earned?

The intelligence that enabled my choices in pre-mortality, wasn’t on me.

That wasn’t even on God. He just put my intelligence in my spirit body.

I didn’t choose my own intelligence.

I feel my chest tighten.

I only chose Jesus because I understood he was the right choice.

One third of humanity didn’t.

How is that their fault?

Eve was in the garden questioning commandments. I’m in the Celestial Room questioning the entire plan.

---

TLDR: I took a long lunch to do an endowment session at the new Provo City Center temple. While being transfixed on "Hot Eve" and her bravery in the Garden of Eden, I start to ponder on choices we make in the pre-mortal life.

If we never got to pick our intelligence before God created our spirit bodies, our intelligence is determined. That intelligence is what decided to choose Jesus or Satan during the big debate. One third of our brothers and sisters got held accountable for the intelligence they never chose and are paying eternally for that.

I'm in the Celestial Room, the closest place to Heaven on Earth, realizing the "Plan of Happiness" doesn't work at all.

It is freezing. I can see my breath in the air. Why is it so cold indoors?

I’m huddled up at my desk with a blanket and a space heater pointed directly at my feet. My companion isn’t going to get up for another hour.

Right now it’s just me sitting at my desk on this icy chair trying to memorize another kanji, one of the 3 alphabets they use, and this one has over 3000 you need to know in order to read a newspaper.

Lemme give you a brief back story, my dad is in the US Air Force and we’ve been stationed in Japan twice growing up, I spent 6 years in Japan before getting called here on a mission for the LDS church. You probably think I’d be good at Japanese, right?

WRONG!

I took it in high school and got a D-. My Japanese teacher actually told me I’d never learn this language, which was fair, I goofed off a LOT in her class.

Japanese is actually pretty complicated coming from English. If you think the alphabet is hard, Japanese sentences run Subject, Object, Verb. Basically you talk like Yoda.

I ramen am eating.

This is not a natural way for me to think or speak. So I get up early every morning to cram in more study time, anything to help me communicate better.

I genuinely love Japan, the culture, the food, the people. I won’t lie, the eventual ability to watch anime without subtitles is also something I am looking forward to.

There is a saying among Japanese missionaries, “If you get called to America, you come home with some baptisms and knowledge of the gospel. If you get called to South America, you come home with a lot of baptisms and knowing Spanish. If you get called to Japan, you just come home.” The language is pretty brutal, and so is finding people who are interested in the church.

After knocking doors for hours someone answers through the door, and I ask them

“Would you like to be happy for the rest of eternity? no? what about free English class?”

They always respond

“Kekkou-desu!”

That’s the polite way they tell you “GO AWAY!” in Japanese.

If they only knew, I have a message here that would change their lives forever! They just need to open the door and listen!

I’m putting in extra hours to get better at this insanely hard language, biking up and down cramped streets through snow and rain, the endless amount of door knocking, talking to thousands of people at train stations, all I get is “kekkou-desu!”.

Nothing works, and I am getting really irritated with how little interest people have in my message.

Is my Japanese the best? No, absolutely not. But I know enough to bear my testimony and tell them that the church is true.

And that should be enough! Why? Because it makes sense TO ME!

I know I haven’t really looked into other religions, but why would I need to when this one lets me feel the spirit!

I’m super blessed to have been born into Mormonism. I just want to share these blessings with everyone I know!

And yeah, I know our temple ceremony might be a little weird.

They gotta do something about those hats.

But I’m not gonna get hung up on little things like that!

The church can bring so much happiness to your life! It is obvious that the church is TRUE! Be good, get baptized, go to heaven. It’s pretty simple!

Am I missing something to convey this reasoning?

Every morning now in my gospel study time, I’m going through Preach My Gospel (the missionary handbook) looking for ways to convince people that Mormonism is true in a way they couldn’t deny.

I read a section about how to respond to objections. There is a quote from President Ezra Taft Benson,

>”Every man eventually is backed up to the wall of faith, and there he must make his stand”

I’ve read this quote a lot, but this time it hits a little different.

I’ve been getting it all wrong.

This wall I was backed up on, It was always a wall of faith. THAT was what I was struggling with!

I was trying to convince people through better arguments, but it ultimately comes down to this wall, right here! I thought this was made of logic. But it was FAITH!

I can’t force a spiritual experience on someone through reasoning. It’s not my fault I’m teaching something that doesn’t make sense to them.

Culturally speaking, a Mormon trying to convert people in Japan is about as effective as a Buddhist monk knocking doors in Texas.

Seeing this massive wall of faith, I reach out and touch it. It’s solid and firm. I exhale and smile feeling the tension leave my shoulders. But something doesn’t sit right with me.

If faith is different from logic, can I really be making statements like, “I KNOW this church is true”?

I hear a knock.

Curiously I follow along the wall to see where the sound came from, I see a door.

What’s wrong with just saying, “I BELIEVE it’s true”?

Another knock.

I’m not opening that door, “Kekkou-desu!”