The reluctant clock dragged toward the third hour mark of Sunday church service as the teacher droned on about the meaning and value of a certain passage of scripture I had already read and studied countless times. I felt extremely grateful when the bell sounded since ignoring my nagging stomach while analyzing the dull blue carpet was getting old fast. My best friend, Kirsten, and I escaped quickly into the hall after the teacher wrapped up his “straight from the manual” lesson. We ran into one of the few people in the building that didn't make me feel awkward, uncomfortable, and embarrassed. It was our genuinely caring and friendly Young Women's President, Sister Darton, whose very proximity warmed you. Most of the young women looked to her as a source of dependable comfort and for me she was like a second mother.
“I really loved your testimony today!” I enthused with a plastered on smile, while Kirsten seconded my opinion with a nearly identical expression. It was standard procedure to overly praise those brave enough to bear their testimony in front of the congregation. In Sister Darton's case it wasn't such an exaggeration because it was always so heartfelt and sincere.
She smiled self-consciously and answered with, “Thanks girls. I sometimes wonder if anyone can actually understand what I'm saying or even wants to hear it what with the guaranteed waterworks. I pretty much empty the box of kleenexes.” We laughed as Kirsten and I hurried to assure her that we were truly touched and understood every word perfectly. Usually, when people cried at the pulpit it was comical. But somehow it was different when Sister Darton testified, her voice resounding with emotion and conviction, through shining tear filled eyes that she knew it was true.
I argued with myself that I too knew it was true or at least that I ought to know. I had done everything I was supposed to. I had read the Bible, Book of Mormon, Doctrine & Covenants, Pearl of Great Price cover to cover, kept the commandments, been baptized at age eight, etc... Then why didn't my eyes tear and sparkle like Sister Darton's when I repeated the standard testimony lines? I realized through my denial that I didn't really know, not like she did. I had never truly implemented what I'd been taught and lived all my life. Something illusive and undefinable about Sister Darton's testimony, more specifically the tears and light in her eyes, motivated me in a way none of the countless lessons and scriptures ever had.
Needless to say, I felt horribly nervous and a bit self-conscious when I found myself down on my knees. My hands shook and sweat as I contemplated how my life's foundation, the rock upon which I stood, would crumble if I received no answer. I was positioned on a precarious precipice and I felt absolutely terrified of falling. Perhaps, that was why I'd been putting it off for so long. I bowed my head and whispered my soft plea to know.
I'm not sure what I expected, but it definitely wasn't that. A tangible warmth and peace pulsed from my heart outward down to my very fingertips and toes. Love in its purest form surrounded and invaded every part of me. It was God's unconditional love for me:the awkward and self-conscious almost teenager. I could never deny that it came from a greater and higher source as it encompassed me in a quilt of bliss and confidence. I recognized it as the same feeling that radiated from Sister Darton and drew others to her.
People would always ask how I could possibly know it was true and why I was willing to give up so much for something I had never seen. The truth is, I didn't need a miraculous vision of angels singing hosanna to convince me because the quiet and transforming warmth I felt was so much more powerful than witnessing the parting of the Red Sea or Christ stilling the tempest. I was a blind man who knows the sun is there even though he can't see it, because he can feel its warmth. I knew that from then on I would be ever faithful because I saw no room for doubt, no other option. I knelt in awe with tears streaming down my face and when I looked in the mirror my own eyes sparkled.
