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Technically, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormonism) has been in my family for several generations. I grew up in a family of people who grew up in the Church. It has always been in my life.  I imagine this is true of many different people in many different religions; Their faith is in their blood, a hereditary trait almost.
While the above scenario describes myself and many others, it is not true of everyone in my religion. Many among our number were born into other churches or belief-systems, worshiping in other ways, and following different rules. For a myriad of reasons, these people took their own spiritual journeys, and found for themselves something the rest of us grew up with.
While I am ever grateful for my upbringing in the beautiful Gospel of Jesus Christ, I have always had a certain respect for converts, those who sought for the truth, and found something wonderful that I was practically handed. They had to work for it, and they might have had to overcome obstacles and baggage along the way that I was never burdened with. I always joy in hearing their stories, who they used be, or what they had to face on the road to Christ. I look up to these people for their hard work, and their faith.
It got me thinking about my own story. Though I was very thankful for the generous blessings that have been bestowed on me, I couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous of converts. These are men and women who worked for something I sometimes take for granted. The Gospel of Christ really means something to them, because they know what it's like without it. When I think about it, my logic is all backward. It's like a man who's inherited great riches that envies a once-poor man who worked hard and became rich by the sweat of his own brow.
I had it all wrong though. I am still on a road to Christ, and so are those people I envied. I was mistakenly viewing conversion as a destination, a one-time event. I have come to realize, however, that conversion is not a stop along the road, but the road itself. I had thought of myself as a man who was born at the destination. I liked where I was, but felt a little robbed of the journey that others got to take. But that was not the case at all. It was more like I had been born at the trailhead, in the company of men and women who know the the road, and can give me directions when I need them. I have companions to share the adventure with, and protectors to keep me safe from the perils of the journey. Others may have had to search for the path, and as I've met them on the road, I've welcomed them into my convoy excited to learn about my new fellow traveler.
We are all travelers on the road of conversion. This road leads to Jesus Christ. It is a bumpy road, and not always the easiest road, and we might occasionally try alternate routes. But this long, bumpy road is the only one that leads to true happiness. Other roads may offer a more comfortable journey in the short-term, but they lead nowhere. Why sell an eternity at a wonderful destination at the end of a winding mountain road  for a fleeting detour down Easy Street, a wide, smooth freeway that offers nothing but a dead-end in a bad neighborhood?
In this sense, I am a convert to Mormonism, a convert to the gospel of Jesus Christ and His teachings. I may have had certain advantages on my journey, but I, along with everyone else, must take the journey all the same. I look forward to seeing you on the road.

 





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