But according to popular Mormon belief, if you repent of a specific sin and then repeat it, all your previous sins return to weigh on your conscience. On days when I managed to refrain from touching myself, I awarded myself a star. I also kept a record of my progress on a calendar I had squirreled away in my nightstand.
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To stay my hand, I convinced my mother to take me to our local branch of Deseret Book, a church-owned chain, and buy me a thick silver ring decorated with a shield emblazoned with the letters "CTR," meaning "Choose the Right." When temptation haunted me, I twisted the ring until the skin beneath chaffed and bled. I read from it on long nights when I lie awake alone in my room listening to the clock tick, my squirmy adolescent body denying me any sleep. I kept “For the Strength of Youth” beside my bed. I didn't ask why God had saddled me with seemingly impossible circumstances. I walked into that Sunday school lesson a light-hearted Mormon boy, and I walked out of it a very unhappy young man, but one possessed by the resolve - the determination - to move forward no matter how high the cost. And my close calls with spiritual homicide involved lurid imaginings of Bruce Willis and, of all people, Dan Lauria from “The Wonder Years.” My sin was only a little less severe than murder. “For the Strength of Youth,” however, said I was guilty of a sin far worse than lying, cheating, or candy stealing. (In my neighborhood, older folks who didn't stay up late could leave Halloween treats by their doorsteps without worrying that a trick-or-treater might grab more than his or her fair share.) I never stole so much as an extra Tootsie Roll from an unguarded bowl of Halloween candy. Until that autumn afternoon, I'd thought of myself as a good kid. Know ye not, my son, that these things are an abomination in the sight of the Lord yea, most abominable above all sins save it be the shedding of innocent blood or denying the Holy Ghost? I read the last sentence in a croaky whisper.Īs if the point weren't clear enough, my Sunday school teacher hammered it home by explaining that sexual sins were among the most grievous, and as proof cited a passage from the Book of Mormon: Homosexual and lesbian activities are sinful and an abomination to the Lord. The Lord specifically forbids certain behaviors, including all sexual relations before marriage, petting, sex perversion (such as homosexuality, rape, and incest), masturbation, or preoccupation with sex in thought, speech, or action. Few of us would turn 23 unmarried.īut at the age of 12, one autumn afternoon in 1997, along with my cohort of 12- and 13-year-old neighbor boys, I received my first copy of “ For the Strength of Youth.” We sat in a circle of metal folding chairs in our Sunday school classroom and each of us read aloud a section from the pamphlet. When adults asked my playmates and me where we wanted to serve, most of us said, "China!" Even then we knew that after we returned from our mission, we would look for a wife.
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From the time we're in kindergarten, Mormon boys know that when we turn 19, we'll serve a mission for the church somewhere in the big world. armed forces in the 1857 Utah War to protect this freedom. Other ancestors were martyred during the Mormons' 1,300-mile westward trek to "Zion" in search of religious freedom. Like Mitt Romney, I have ancestors who fled to Mexico to practice polygamy after Utah outlawed it.
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My great-great-grandparents were among Utah's earliest Mormon pioneers. And every year, the same question threatened to consume me with shame.Įach time I lied, I plunged into a very Mormon kind of hell. Rumors would flood my neighborhood in Utah Valley. I’d be excluded from joining my family and friends in Temple rituals. Everyone in my life would know if I failed. I grew up Mormon, and every year I endured a hair-raising interview to get my “temple recommend.” (Think of it like Mormon “security clearance.”) It was a firewalk in the guise of an annual interrogation.