Free From Me
This is my story. I was raised in the church, and during the first 13 years of my life, I never thought to question it. My parents were strong believers and drilled into us that we should put our all into serving God's kingdom here on earth. They made me go to church every Sunday without fail, and as a result of their parenting, I never had any questions about what our family was doing or why we did what we did.
Then one day something happened that changed everything for me...I finally said out loud to myself that I didn't believe anymore because there was no good evidence for the truth of the Church's teachings. I couldn't understand why all my brothers and sisters were being told to stay in the church, and I couldn't understand how we were being told not to marry people of other religions.
Around age 13 I started to pray about it, but still kept quiet about my doubts. There was no reason to start a fight with my parents before I was old enough to make decisions for myself.
I went to live with one of our family members in his house, and there he taught me about the importance of having testimonies and that Mormons have three witnesses that are confirmed by the Holy Ghost. He always taught us that it was wrong for us to leave the Church because if we did then we would be going against God's commandments. He would tell us that you can't be a good Mormon without believing every word of what the prophet said. I took these lessons as gospel, and I believed every word of them.
A few years passed, and one night my Grandpa got drunk and started to get very upset at me because he was blaming me for my father going away (I didn't have much contact with him). He made me leave the house, so I walked about 10 miles to go spend the night at one of my other Grandma's houses.
The next day when I was walking home, a car pulled up beside me and offered me a ride home. The guy who drove me home happened to be a Mormon. I told him who I was and that I was staying with my Grandma and he said if I would come to church with him he would let me spend the night at his house.
I agreed, and I can't even begin to describe what happened that Sunday. After the Sunday School was over, we were given the chance to get baptized by two members of our ward who gave us a blessing before we did so. They asked us if it was okay for them to baptize us and how we wanted our names to be written in our family record.
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Free From Me