Surrendered

Coming into the Christian scene at 31 was the hardest and easiest decision of my life. I came to know God intimately in August 2023 and couldn't look back after that. I started attending a Christian church, and after two years of agony over the Baptism Sundays and the pressure of “just walk up” to the side of the stage to get baptized in church… I still couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was happy for those who took that step, and yet I couldn’t reconcile with my baptism at eight years old into the Mormon Church and the baggage that came with it… which left me feeling paralyzed. As much as my soul wanted to "run to the river”, each time I stood there unable to move like a deer in headlights. In 2025, after consulting with many Christians to learn the meaning of Christian baptism, I finally did it! With only eight people present, on a private beach in California, I was baptized. All the buildup, the stress, the research, and the prayer, it was worth it in the end but the process to get there was long. And that’s the purpose of this post: to explain the road I went down and how God graciously held my hand through it. It was a rough-and-tumble road that slowly eased me into this new life, understanding, and identity in Christ. 

Fast forward to October 2026, this month marked my daughter’s eighth birthday, five years since my husband died, and one year since I walked into my current church for the first time. As I was sitting in church, they announced they were having child dedications. I never gave it a thought. My kids were older (ten and eight), and I thought child dedications were for babies and toddlers. And then the person on stage said "it's for children ten and younger." I felt called out. I was excited that my kids could participate, yet extreme anxiety consumed me. Dedicating my children to the Lord was already the posture of my heart, just like baptism. But to stand and say “yes,” to set that example for my children, that’s what excited me. 

  I took a week to think it over, and that next Sunday, a week and one day after the five-year-anniversary of my husband death, and one week until my daughter's eighth birthday, I sat in my seat as the pastor invited everyone to pull out their phones. Those who had accepted Jesus into their hearts during the alter call were encouraged to visit the church website and let the church know. The pastor encouraged everyone to do it so those who had accepted Jesus wouldn't feel under the microscope. I took that moment to sign up for child dedications on the church website instead. It was a beautiful moment where I felt the support of the whole congregation, even if I wasn't doing exactly what they were pulling their phones out to support. I got my children on the list, and then anxiety consumed me. 

A few days later, I went to Bible study, and when they asked for prayer requests, I spoke up. "I signed up for the child dedications, and I would just like prayer that the anxiety thats appears every time I think about it would subside." I knew without a doubt that I would be doing this, and that it was a good gift the church and God wanted for my family. I had no doubt about my decision, but it brought up unresolved trauma from my 30 years in the Mormon (LDS) church. 

In the LDS church, babies receive a blessing from their fathers through a prayer before the congragation. My late-husband did this for our son, Ronan and both myself and our children were still considered members of the LDS church because my baptism into Mormonism when I was eight. I had not done anything to actively remove myself from the LDS church, and I was okay with that… until I wasn’t. October had become a month of beginnings and endings in many ways. I had thought that I know was the Holy Ghost, reminding me of a beginning and an end that also needed to happen. I felt fully convicted to remove my records from the LDS church before dedicating my children into Christianity. Although I know that none of the LDS covenants, sealings, or baptisms were valid or hold any ties to my salvation, I didn’t want my name on their records or them to feel they had any type of ownership or feel any religious authority over me.  I filled out the resignation papers. I stood in the doorframe of my bedroom and thought, “This is a full rejection of my past and an embracement of my future.” The drive to the post office hurt, and while I knew I was going through with this, I thought about not. I walked in and handed over the papers over to be notarized. As the clerk handed the papers back to me, I felt deep within me that these papers needed to get to the LDS Headquarters in three ways. 

I asked him to scan the documents so I could upload them to the lawyer’s portal, then I told him I wanted to mail them also. I drove home and sat in the driveway with the thought of three ways still on my heart, but that didn’t make sense. I had completed two, and there was nothing else to do. I went onto the website to upload the scanned document, and right below it read, “You can also email the LDS church these documents directly.” The third way. I had uploaded the documents onto the portal, mailed them through UPS, and emailed the LDS church directly. My nostalgia for the past and love for those who raised me remained, but another feeling came in and consumed me. I felt free, empowered, and then… deep anguish. I was on the other side of it all, and when I metaphorically looked back across the line and saw those who remained on the other side, I wept. I had free will to stay or leave, and so do those still in the LDS church, but what I know now versus what I knew then… my heart aches that they would too encounter the God I have come to know through the Christian Bible.

On that note, what I miss about the LDS church is the sense of tradition, community, and history I have with the people who helped raise me or tried to teach me the best they could as a child. Leaving the LDS church was easy, and it was hard. I was rejecting my childhood beliefs and the dozen or so families that were my community… or at least that is how it might appear. In reality, I was rejecting the theology I had grown up believing, not the people who had been part of my life. I pray that others can recognize that distinction. I have a deep and unending love for my brothers and sisters still active in the LDS church. 

In my Bible study before the child dedications, my friends not only supported me, but encouraged me. One person mentioned that Jesus said, "For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:30) This statement was comforting to me, not because all of a sudden I wasn't anxious, but because it was a reminder that I could bring my anxiety to Christ instead of trying to carry it alone. My anxiety didn’t mean that God had abandoned me or that I needed to do this alone. Another person said the enemy knows he can't have us, so the next best thing is to steal our joy. Every part of me knew I was going to dedicate my children, but I was letting my anxiety overshadow the joy of this opportunity. It was the reminder I needed to ground myself. 

Still in all of this, surrounded by the support of my Bible study group, I was still experiencing panic attacks and nightmares. I reminded myself of my friends in Bible study and what they said. I then used a grounding technique that has helped me incredibly, which is naming all the things I am grateful for. It is the easiest way I’ve found to calm myself down and remind myself that I am okay, God has me, and He is with me. I have so much to be grateful for.

The truth is, one of the aspects I feel most misunderstood by about my experience with PTSD is the disconnect between what we know intellectually and what we experience emotionally. I wasn’t miraculously healed when I gave my life to Jesus, but I was saved. Every time I calm myself down, it is an active process and does not mean that my faith in God isn’t present. I grew up being taught in the LDS church that Satan was the “father of contention,” and I came to associate feelings of internal conflict, resistance, or discomfort with the influence of the Devil, thinking that anxiety meant I was succumbing to the enemy and lacked faith in God. So now as I experience anxiety about reconciling my past with my future, I was struggled to distinguish between what I had been taught to interpret as spiritual contention and what I now recognize as a trauma response. I was trying to understand how the anxiety I experienced could coexist with the healing I was finding in Christianity. And while I still believe the Devil is active in spiritual warfare, the way I was taught to interpret these feelings as a child felt more like coercion to comply than an opportunity to develop a genuine testimony. Because in the end, I was anxious about doing something God celebrates, such as baptism and child dedications in the Christian church and my anxiety came from working through trauma. I was beginning to learn that experiencing anxiety does not mean I am resisting God. Sometimes, following Him means moving forward while working through big emotions.

This long explanation is just part of my rough-and-tumbled journey as God slowly eases me into this new life, understanding, and identity in Christ. Because in a movie montage, you might see a girl leaving the LDS church, giving her life to God, getting baptized, and then dedicating her children on a stage in a Christian church. And while all of that is true… my experience with God and my journey to get onto that stage unfolded in a way that only God could write. Through moments that were deeply personal, I know he was helping me reconcile my past with my future. Don’t mistake me, I fully and actively rejected the LDS faith and theology when I removed my records and dedicated my children, but I was saved from not having to be filled with hate, resentment, and anger. Sometimes those feelings are there… but through the path God led me down he gave me a way to exchange my past for a hopeful and bright future for my family. I didn’t recognize this until days before the dedication, when I realized that my daughter had just turned eight. A significant milestone in the LDS church. 

At eight years old, you are considered to have reached the “age of accountability” in the LDS church. This means that you become personally responsible for your choices and actions according to the LDS church. They believe that children can and should be baptized (at eight) and then confirmed as member of their church. Baptism is considered an essential ordinance, which is one step (out of a few) required to enter the Celestial Kingdom (their heaven). I do not want my daughter to be Mormon, but from a cultural and traditional standpoint, it was another thing that I rejected for my family because of Christianity. I was okay with that! However, it did feel like a loss. Until I realized that God had replaced that “loss,” with a beautiful gift and milestone for my family!

My current Church had announced “Child dedications are for children ten and under.” My son was ten, and my daughter just turned eight. The timing felt deeply personal to me. At this time when in my old life, I would have given her a LDS baptism, God gave her a child dedication instead! I can’t speak for my parents, or their feelings on this. But they chose to support me and the direction I am raising my children by attending the child dedication, which allowed me to feel supported and my children to have their grandparents in the congregation for them. 

The night before the dedication, I had nightmares all night. I was ready, grateful, and a little nervous that a child would wake up sick or the Church would cancel dedications that day… I had a whole list of scenarios that would make us have to wait until next time. I was intentional about getting us there early, standing in place, and walking on stage. Not just to ensure that I wouldn’t miss and prolong this, partly to have it be over, but mostly so that no one was confused on where I stand or my intentions with raising my children. 

We got there on time. My parents showed up, my best friend walked in with her kids, and we stood for worship. I followed the instructions and went on stage when it was time, to be met with two other families from my Bible study were also dedicating their children and supporting me on stage. I was able to dedicate my children with my friends on stage and my daughter next to her friends as well. What I didn’t know I needed! I have to admit that the entire time I was on stage, I don’t remember much, I only remember my friend grabbing my hand. But that’s okay. I stepped into something, showed up, felt supported, and let my stance be known. I did it anxious, but surrounded by love, I did it! God met me where I was and put many people in my path to embrace me.

About a week later, I had the song “You Found Me” by The Fray in my head. I listened to it over and over and couldn’t understand why this seemly irreverent song was playing on repeat in my mind. “I found God…. All alone smoking his last cigarette. I said “Where you been?” He said, “Ask Anything?”” They lyrics go on “Where were you when everything was falling apart, all my days were spent by the telephone that never rang and all I needed was a call that never came. Lost and insecure you found me, lying on the floor… why’d you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you… just a little late” While I’m not sure why The Fray wrote it, imagining God meeting me right where I was, in the emotional turmoil and anxiety consuming me, and giving me strength in the valley—the dirty, gritty, valley that the Lord turned holy by His presence brings me comfort. I imagine him beside me (maybe not smoking a cigarette! But still!) while I was trying to dissect my past, reconcile my future, and walk in faith… My confusion, hurt, and sorrow were met with a God that was present and showed up the instant I surrendered my life to Him. Not after I completed different levels, tasks, or ceremonies and I don’t have to work through every fear before I am his child. God is here, waiting, sovereign, gracious, and ready to call us His.