The Baptism of Fire: Born Again

...Then the guys had our own devotional. We walked into a commons area that was also a balcony for the Halls.

I can remember that Quinn said something…he said something to the effect of, “If your hearts are open, you’ll have a cool experience tonight.” So I opened my heart.

Quinn began reading an article by an LDS authority named Bruce R. McKonkie. I can’t remember if it was the exact title, but it was referred to as “The Miracle of Gethsemane”. It took me months and months to find it later.) I think that it was the last talk McKonkie gave before his death.

The article started out describing the Savior’s experience on the Mount of Olives. As Quinn read it aloud, there was a sense of reverence in the air. An absolute respect for the Spirit of God hung in the room. (I am sorry to note that I have never since experienced that reverence in a room full of guys my age—and girls.) Quinn’s reading traced the suffering in the Garden and the betrayal of the Christ. Then he passed the magazine to someone else to read.

In my memories, I can remember that the article went briefly into the intensity of the suffering that the Savior endured next in the flogging and the trials. I don’t know how this entered my mind, because later when I went over the article these parts weren’t as striking as I remembered them to be.

All I know is, I never expected what happened next, as premature as it sounds. The guy that was reading the article began crying. His sobs choked his voice as he read, and they continued to strain his voice until he could no longer read. He passed it. The next guy couldn’t read it either, for he too was full of emotion.

I was kinda half-paying attention at this point, so I knew what was going on around me. But it was only when I really blinked my eyes that I realized that almost every guy in the room was overcome with…something. Quinn was sitting in silence, almost as if he knew that this was going on and he was used to it. The guy next to me seemed to be chuckling—until I later realized that he was stuffing back crying himself. Quinn and I were the only ones almost void of all emotion. I was ashamed that I had no tears of my own.

One guy full of emotion sobbed, “He said…he said ‘Thy will be done…’”. He was completely broken down. His quote was filled with so much anguish and such a tone that if you had just walked into the room, and had never heard of the Bible, you could guess just by hearing the way he said it that he was describing someone’s dying words. Just by listening to his extremely emotional lament.

Because the reader couldn’t finish his sentence, Quinn took the magazine back and picked up where the reading left off. I listened as Quinn went on to describe the road to Calvary, the suffering on the cross, and the final victory when the Savior gave up the ghost. Quinn put the magazine down for a moment and observed the scene around him.

Something was happening in the room…I could feel it. I’ve gone back and read the article as I said. It’s not that the article is touching, though it surely could be that. It was something else: the Spirit had entered the room. And I was missing it. I didn’t even know that that’s what happened. I just knew that these new friends of mine were truly touched and overcome with emotion because of what they were holding on to. And I didn’t have that.

Quinn broke the sound of silent crying. “I know it hurts, guys,” he said quietly. “I know it hurts. But just listen: here’s the best part.” Then Quinn reopened the magazine and continued reading. The article spoke of the Garden Tomb and the Easter Morn, when the Lord appeared glorified and resurrected to Mary. Then it talked about the Atonement of the Savior.

Somewhere in this time, Quinn played a song that came with the EFY soundtrack CD for that year’s program, called “In His Embrace.” This song wasn’t particularly moving for me, either. And while it didn’t stir everyone else the way “The Miracle of Gethsemane” had, it still somehow affected everyone in an emotional way.

I was feeling something, but not in the way everyone else seemed to be. (This next parallel should prove very fitting…) It was like standing next to a fire or outside while a wind is blowing. You can tell where it is, and you can feel it all around you. But somehow you don’t feel it inside, and you don’t know where it is or where it’s going.

What happened next defies all possible description and has changed my life.

I don’t remember the exact order of events. I just know that at some point between Quinn’s closing remarks and standing up something in me exploded. It felt like I had caught fire with something, and the fire was inside me. I was so…filled. And I was excited because I had no idea what this new thing could possibly be. It just felt like I had woken up, or moved to a different room, or put on a new jacket, or taken off a hat…I cannot compare it to much of anything to adequately describe it. I had been changed somewhere. Something within me was new and different and changed. And there was this overflowing feeling of happiness and peace and glory. It completely submerged me. The feeling was almost purifying.

In this moment of evanescence, I knew without a doubt that the Book of Mormon was true and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. It was the whole ‘Mormon testimony’ experience that gets trumpeted from the pulpit so often. But this testimony went deeper: I knew that Jesus Christ was real. I knew that He had died for me and that He was a real person who lives. This single assurance, this sure knowledge, was it for me. This little moment in time was rock-hard proof of the reality of the Messiah for me. I knew of the Christ, and nothing could possibly make me deny it. All because of that inexpressible, unexplainable moment.

My favorite part of this memory other than the feelings (because it’s impossible to fully and adequately recreate them) is the look on everyone else’s face—especially their eyes. They knew what was happening to me, and they had felt it, too. And we were seeing eye to eye, heart to heart. There was a complete, perfect sense of harmony in that room, on that balcony.

Well, like I said, I wasn’t completely the same person after that. True, I would succumb back into the dark night just a few weeks later. But something in me was now ready to fight back. For the first time I really wanted to get rid of the darkness. And I had a light that had been set aflame in my heart.

I had been sanctified. I had become born of God, baptized of fire, and received the gift of the Holy Ghost.