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Bus One Seven
Email from God
by Roderick Armageddon

Growing up in the small town of Blackfoot, Idaho, less than three hours from Salt Lake City, I feel well armed -and motivated- to discuss the finer points of Mormonism's divine callings, whether they be inspirations, manifestations or just good old fashioned revelations. I didn't grow up in a Mormon household, but my adolescence blossomed in a community known more for its high concentration of Mormons than its rich potato fields (Blackfoot is said to have more Mormons per capita than Salt Lake City).

If you've read my column prior to this issue, you know that I do my best to respect and understand Christianity and God - without making too large an investment. Instead of diving into the theological pool, I choose to circle the deck, occasionally dipping my toes in when I feel a need to refresh myself on the subject. I won't bore you with the details of my religious misgivings, but I will recount a perspective fostered whilst growing amid the comforting beliefs of the Latter Day Saints.

Mormons receive ongoing guidance from a living counsel or prophet (Gordon B. Hinckley), just like the Seventh Day Adventists (the late Ellen G White) —and the Catholics for that matter (The Catholic Church has always taught that the bishops are the successors of the apostles and that the Pope is the successor to Peter, the first Bishop of Rome). As a wee lad skipping through dusty spud fields, I received a basic, Christian theological education, so for me, the idea that a living human being was talking to God was a shocking allegation. With little understanding of the Catholic Church —or any organized religion, for that matter- I thought you had to be one of Jesus’ biblical buddies to get word from the Big Man. But no, the Adventists and Mormons had discovered that their founders and members also received messages from the Almighty, Himself.

My mother definitely did her best to let me know that while we should respect this funky mojo, the truth was that there were no modern-day prophets, and if your church had a prophet, it was a false prophet, thereby making you a member of a cult. Yes, if you were a Mormon, you were just as bizarre as any creep involved with any other fire-breathing monkey festival of debauchery and incestuous ill will.

For a child so eager to understand the meaning of life and the role of religion in defining that meaning, the idea that my Mormon friends were wearing goat-horned hats while prancing wickedly around a sacrificial fire pit made me terribly uneasy. Here I was, standing —Hell, living- in a veritable pit of vipers, disguising themselves as do-gooders.

What was I to do? In reflection, I can’t say what would have been the best course of action for me to take at that point in my life, but I can recount the action I finally chose, and to that, I’d say it was a pretty damn good decision. I decided it best to go on with my life "as usual," with this secret insider knowledge tucked beneath my pillow. Whether thoughtful or just plain lazy, the decision proved to serve me well.

Armed with this savory little nugget, I’d be ready to defend myself from a bevy of cult peer pressure, thrown at me during fireside activities or tri-stake dances. Yes, the term "tri-stake" is a bit suspect, especially coming before the word dance, but work with me on this one. The word "stake" refers to a Mormon stake center, a large church center which usually houses the worshipping and community activities of three different wards —geographic church communities. It’s not uncommon for two or three separate wards to use the same church or stake center at different times during any given Sunday. So a tri-stake anything could very easily include the membership of nine different wards. So for all intents and purposes, a tri-stake dance refers to the youth of three different stakes coming together for a joyful evening of dancing —more Def Leopard and Whitney Houston than any one adolescent should ever have to endure. After attending many of these highly-chaperoned, hormone-suppressed shindigs, I can tell you that not a single one led to an event involving oddly-embroidered shrouds or virgin sacrifices (trust me, there were plenty of virgins to be had). After attending more of these events than I can remember, I made the decision to live my life in harmony with the Mormons. I came away unimpressed by their level of wickedness, and untouched by the hands of evil.

Another impression I came away with was an intriguing insight into my friends, their families, and their need to hear from God. It seemed to me that all my peers longed to hear word from the Mormon Church president (at that time it was Ezra Taft Benson). Whether through revelations, proclamations or a call to serve as a missionary, President Benson’s words were richer to my peers than gold.

For 19 year-old boys, the Mormon mission is a true passage into adulthood. One of the myriad of reasons that the mission is so important is that this passage is accompanied by a proclamation from God, given to -and through- the church president. Prior to serving a mission for the church, these young men have to submit some form of application listing their intent to serve. After a long wait, the highly-anticipated response arrives in the mail, giving these lads a new start —often in an exotic location somewhere overseas; and for a select few, an exotic location somewhere in the back woods of Tennessee.

Aside from being overwhelmed from receiving their "call," I noticed that my friends were even more impressed to see the signature at the bottom of the cover letter. The church president would hand sign every call to serve, and for these young men and their families, this is akin to receiving a letter from God, himself. Far better than an email, a hand-signed call is worthy of framing.

The idea of anyone speaking to God was intriguing and spooky to me then, but it’s become even more intriguing to me now —especially because of my current belief structure. If there is a God, and he just so happens to be the same God the Mormon’s have identified, they’ve got it made. If God turns out to be the Catholic Church’s God, then the Mormons are sunk. But what if there really is no God? Then just where do these revelations, proclamations and calls to serve come from? Who is talking to the Mormon Church president? Better yet, why worry about who is talking to the Mormon president when we have a bevy of other faith systems to consider? What about the Protestants? Are they speaking to the same God as the Catholics? And then there’s the Seventh Day Adventists —what about their God? Hell, since we’re on a roll here, how about the Buddhists, Muslims, Jehovah's Witnesses and Hindus? What about anyone who believes in Islam, Judaism, Christian Science, Spiritualism and Eastern Mysticism? And what about the fringe churches, like The Way International, Unity, and the Unification Church? What about their beliefs? Just who the Hell is right? Better yet, just what is right?

Maybe God —whoever that is- will send me an email to me and clear all of this up. Until then, I’ll keep my computer turned on and my inbox open.

Check out the Church of Latter Day Saints, online:

www.mormon.org

www.lds.org

You might also find a few thoughtful nuggets at the Adventists’ site:

www.adventist.org