This letter begins with a key event in my life that occurred in 1987, early in my LDS mission to New Jersey. I was was part of the first group of Spanish-speaking missionaries called to the New Jersey Morristown Mission. We would be sharing the gospel message in some rough urban areas where LDS missionaries had rarely ventured before.
My mission began with nine weeks of training in the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, after which our group of six missionaries flew to Newark International Airport. We soon met our mission leaders, Dan and Barbara Workman. We immediately felt their love and concern for us, which continued throughout my life. (Thank you, Sister Workman, for your recent letter I received here in prison. Even now, you show such Christlike support and care for your missionaries. I’m grateful for you.)
The next morning, President Workman introduced me to my first companion, Elder Hansen, who would function as my “trainer” during my first couple months in New Jersey. (All male LDS missionaries use the title of “Elder”, while female missionaries go by “Sister”.) Elder Hansen was a confident Californian who spoke fluent Spanish, while I was a timid teenager from a small town in Utah. He was the right companion to help me cope with the culture shock I was experiencing.
Our proselytizing area was the industrial city of Paterson, and I soon learned the citizens weren’t always friendly. As Elder Hansen and I walked through the city on the way to an appointment, I waved to a man sitting on a porch step. About 15 seconds later a couple of apples came whizzing past our heads. Then a block later I waved to two young boys, and they both threw a glass bottle at me. I decided waving to people might not be the safest thing to do.
To reach our appointment, we had to walk through one of the city’s most dangerous areas. Ahead of us, a gang of teenagers was taking up the whole sidewalk. I was praying hard for protection, and somehow we made it around them with only a few snide comments. (I didn’t wave.)
We finally reached our destination and knocked on the door several times, but no one answered. I suddenly felt exasperated and overwhelmed, and it must have shown on my face. Elder Hansen stuck his index finger in my chest, pushed me against the wall and said, “Don’t start having doubts, man. You know this is the true church, and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. Are you going to let a bunch of losers on the street corner change your mind? I thought you were bigger than that.”
Then he started walking back to the street. I was humbled and humiliated, but I caught up with him. We didn’t say a word to each other, but he had made a good point. An image of the apostle Peter denying Jesus Christ came into my mind, and I suddenly felt very ashamed.
When we reached our apartment, I went into our tiny bathroom and said a fervent prayer to Heavenly Father, apologizing for my weaknesses. Then I gave thanks for the Prophet Joseph Smith, and suddenly my mind opened up. It felt like I was actually witnessing the First Vision, when Joseph as a 14-year-old boy saw and talked with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I felt the Spirit of God burning within me, and I knew without a doubt this event had really happened. That day I had experienced fear, exasperation, and even doubt, but then I received an outpouring of truth and comfort.
We had a bold, powerful group of missionaries, and we accomplished much good in that area. Elder Hansen and I eventually became close friends, and after our missions we stayed in touch. He later moved to Colorado where he became a successful businessman, and he and his wife raised a beautiful family.
Why did I share that experience with you? Because from that day on I have been completely devoted to the LDS Church. I have served in many different callings, including being part of four different bishoprics. During that time I was asked to assist with several church disciplinary councils that were held for members who wanted to clear up misdeeds in their lives.
These meetings usually began with some awkward feelings, but I was amazed to watch loving church leaders turn the meetings into positive, spiritual experiences. Expressions of support would be given, tears would be shed, and the person would feel a sense of relief, like a great burden had been lifted. It was inspiring to watch a humble church leader help a person who felt desolate and alone regain hope and faith through the atonement of Jesus Christ.
With that background, it is true I am currently excommunicated from the LDS Church. Sadly, I didn’t receive an opportunity to have a compassionate church leader hear my side of the story. I would have happily welcomed a visit from my church leaders during my four years in the Fremont County Jail, but no one ever came. Instead, I learned I had been excommunicated through the mail, more than a month after the disciplinary council had taken place.
At the jail, the deputies would put any mail addressed to me in a big manila envelope, which was held until my attorney’s next visit. He and I would then sort through the mail together. When he visited me in September 2020, we emptied the manila envelope, and among the letters were two envelopes from my LDS Church stake president, my local leader. I’d had a good relationship with him over the years, and I initially expected these envelopes to contain letters of kindness, support, and encouragement.
However, I opened the first envelope and read a printed form letter informing me a disciplinary council would be held regarding my church membership. It felt like an arrow had pierced my heart. I took a deep breath and opened the second envelope. This letter said the council had been held, and I had been excommunicated for apostasy. The letter stated I had 30 days to appeal the decision, but by that time the deadline had already passed, since the jail had been holding my mail.
I have still never found out what evidence was presented in the disciplinary council, or who testified against me. The Church scriptures known as the Doctrine and Covenants explains excommunication procedures in depth. Section 102 verse 18 reads, “In all cases the accuser and the accused shall have a privilege of speaking for themselves before the council.” That obviously didn’t happen in my situation. I would love to know what transpired in the meeting, but the Church has resisted my efforts to obtain the records.
I readily admit I have many flaws and weaknesses that I am striving to overcome, but I am not guilty of the great sins attributed to me. The thought of associating with apostate groups or teaching false doctrine is absurd to me. Please at least let me know the specific doctrines I was supposedly teaching. Who are my accusers? When and where did I say these things?
So for these reasons I still consider myself an active member of the LDS Church. My excommunication process didn’t follow scriptural guidelines, and apparently no effort was made to verify I had received the notification letters. At the very least, I deserved a chance to talk to a church leader in person and answer any accusations of misconduct.
I have never felt a decrease in my priesthood power, or a loss of the influence of the Holy Ghost. I have actually felt an increase in those areas, which has been a great comfort and blessing as I deal with my current circumstances. I fully support the LDS Church’s First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. I follow their teachings, and I am working out my own salvation through the power and grace of the atonement of Jesus Christ, my Savior.
In conclusion, let me return to Elder Hansen, my first missionary companion. When he heard the news that Tammy had passed away, he canceled his busy schedule and rushed from Colorado to Springville in time for her viewing and funeral. When I saw him walk into the viewing room, my heart filled with gratitude and appreciation for this great man. As he came through the viewing line, we embraced, and I knew one of my true brothers in Christ was there to support me. We took a few moments to catch up, and he humbly told me he was serving as an LDS stake president. I wish he had been mine.
Bookshelf
I have had a lot of heroes in my life, often from the world of sports. I’ve always been a fan of BYU’s basketball and football teams, and I was in my early teens when the Cougars were really hitting their stride.
Danny Ainge led the basketball team to the NCAA Elite 8, and the Quarterback Factory kept churning out superstars such as Jim McMahon and Steve Young, who would both lead NFL teams to Super Bowl victories.
But my ultimate hero is Joseph Smith (after Jesus, of course). When Joseph was an obscure teenage farmboy, an angel appeared to him and told him his name would be known for good and evil among all nations. Persecution intensified against him and his family, and it never let up the rest of his life.
Supposed friends repeatedly betrayed him, and he endured dozens of arrests on false charges, spending many months in dark, damp, squalid jails. Yet he somehow maintained a positive attitude and accomplished incredible feats. He translated the Book of Mormon from ancient records and founded The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He revealed many profound eternal truths and designed new cities, yet made time to raise a good family and care for his Church members.
Sadly, his persecutors finally succeeded in their goal when Joseph was brutally murdered at age 38 by an angry mob that stormed the jail in Carthage, Illinois.
The Church has published a four-volume history titled “Saints”, and the first volume covers the life of Joseph Smith. The book reads like a novel, but it is all true. If you want to read about a great American hero, give “Saints: Volume 1” a try. You’ll also gain an appreciation for the Pioneers who later crossed the Plains and established Salt Lake City in the middle of a wilderness.
You can access “Saints: Volume 1” for free here
Musical Notes
When I was an LDS missionary in the late 1980s, we weren’t allowed to own electronics, especially radios. According to the missionary handbook, popular music could potentially drive away the Spirit. That might be true, but in the big cities of northern New Jersey, missionaries didn’t need a radio. We were literally surrounded by every type of music.
As we walked along the main boulevards, the traffic would cruise past us at a decent speed. But it felt like we were listening to one continuous radio broadcast, because every vehicle was blasting the same station. Over and over we heard, “Broadcasting from the top of the Empire State Building, you’re listening to Z100.” Sometimes it seemed like Z100 had captured 100 percent of the listening audience!
About two weeks after I arrived in New Jersey, and shortly after my humbling experience described in the letter, Elder Hansen and I were invited to attend a wedding. It was for a couple that Elder Hansen had known earlier in his mission, and would take place in Jersey City. President Workman granted us permission to attend, as long as church members gave us a ride to and from the wedding.
I was excited, because I hadn’t yet been able to see the Manhattan skyline up close. Elder Hansen said we would be a few blocks from the Hudson River with a nice view of the Twin Towers.
Elder Hansen had arranged for a young couple from the Jersey City ward to pick us up outside our Paterson apartment. My eyes nearly popped out of my head as a very fancy sports car pulled to a stop in front of us. Elder Hansen smiled at me and said, “Climb on in!”
We are both tall, so it was a tight squeeze for us in the small backseat, but we were soon zooming down the freeway, and I was eagerly soaking in the sights. I enjoyed seeing Giants Stadium for the first time, and I listened in as Elder Hansen chatted with the man who was driving.
Then as we got closer to Jersey City, the woman in the passenger seat said, “Sorry to interrupt, but I love this song!”
She turned up the volume on the car’s excellent sound system, and I recognized the voice of Whitney Houston, who had dominated the airwaves throughout 1986 and 1987. But this song was new to me after having been sequestered in the Missionary Training Center throughout the summer.
The woman began dancing happily in her seat and started singing along animatedly. It was quite a show! Then when she reached the chorus, a lasting memory was imprinted into my brain.
“I get so emotional, baby, every time I think of you.
I get so emotional, baby, ain’t it shocking what love can do!”
At that moment I caught a good glimpse of the tops of some Manhattan skyscrapers, including the Empire State Building. Suddenly I was the one getting “so emotional.” It was the equivalent of a spiritual experience as we entered Jersey City, where I would be transferred a couple of months later. In this city I would later meet amazing people and witness literal healing miracles. But in that instant, I just basked in the wonderful realization that it was possible to have fun, joyful experiences on a mission, and throughout our lives.
So whether you like the song or not, I consider Whitney Houston’s “So Emotional” to be a sacred hymn. I don’t expect it to be included in the new LDS Hymnbook, but it would certainly add some life to our sacrament meetings!
By the way, if you happen to cross paths with some LDS missionaries, please give them a smile and a wave. It just might be what they need! You’ll make their day.