Hugs for Robert Chambers

My Conversion Story: A Fight for Life

The true story of the conversion of Robert Blake Chambers Written by Robert Blake Chambers

Growing up I always seemed to lack some kind of direction in life. I was never truly sure about who I was, what I wanted to become, or even how to get there. I bounced around a lot, staying with different family members for weeks, months, or years, trying to surround myself with family while I was out “finding myself”. Some of my family was religious, while others were not. Though they all believed in God, not all were practicing Christians but were in no way short of strong morals and convictions.

I didn’t have a strong urge to go to church until I moved back in with my mom at 11 years of age and met a boy who became my best friend, and who I am still friends with to this day. I had moved in two doors down from him in a townhouse. He evidently did have an urge to go to church because he began coming over to my house on Sunday mornings. He began to bust into my room while I was sleeping, saying and doing whatever he could to convince me to go to church with him; even bribing me with money and video games. Over time I started to enjoy going to church. Much like when I went to church with my family at younger ages, the church we went to was a Baptist church. It was a great place for me to spend time with friends in a positive environment and I felt a strong desire to have that in my life.

Over time, as my church going began to be more about my salvation than a social gathering, I began to notice that all the churches I had gone to and was attending, had differences in opinions about the doctrine of Christ’s church. While noticing the differences in doctrine, I also began to notice the differences between the clergy and the members within the congregations. There was no uniformity.

As I started to have the deeper questions about life and eternity, I began to have a very unsettling feeling within myself. I eventually left the Baptist community, and tested and tried nearly every other denomination known to Christians. I began wondering how these denominations could take so many different opinions about doctrine while all reading from the same Bible. I knew they read from different translations of the Bible but to me, that wasn’t enough to change doctrine. I resolved that the problem was the different denominations all together. I started attending “non-denominational” Christian churches because, in my mind, if they were not connected to any particular denomination, they must surely read, and teach, directly from the Bible, with very little variation in doctrine or opinions. To no avail, I quickly saw the same inconsistencies. I should mention that I have even researched other religions, to include Islam, Buddhism, Astrology, Numerology, and other belief systems as well.

There were several years of my life that I very rarely went to church after all of my searching. With so much confusion, and contention, I began to feel as if they all had it wrong and it wouldn’t benefit me to necessarily belong to any particular church, or believe in any particular point of doctrine. The one thing that I knew and believed was “…God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son. That whosever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” There began to be a feeling that the institution of “church” was pointless, and good for nothing more than fellowship and inspirational preaching and discussions about the God we knew and loved. That meant to me that going to church was an option and not in any way a necessity. Since my deepest questions were never answered with consistency, I figured that the Bible was meant for each individual to interpret and whatever mistakes he or she made in that interpretation would be understood and forgiven by Jesus.

Fast forward through those several years of church absence, I found myself enlisted in the United States Army. I deployed to Afghanistan in 2010 and by that time I was a very heavy drinker and I consistently used various drugs as well. I didn’t use what are commonly called “heavy drugs” but they were drugs none the less. Though I did a lot to escape reality, I always knew in my heart that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and He died and was raised that I might be saved. The most common of beliefs across the range of churches that I attended, taught me that grace is a gift from God given to all. No amount of good that I did, would qualify me for forgiveness; which, to me, meant I could sin, as long as I asked for forgiveness and believed in Jesus. True repentance to me was making sure that I asked for forgiveness when I prayed and that was good enough. I made no promises to God, nor did I attempt, or want to attempt, to forsake my sins; because there was no such thing as being worthy of forgiveness. As long as I “believed” that Jesus Christ was my savior and that His grace would save me, then like the thief on the cross, I could ask Jesus to forgive me, and I would be saved. Little did I know that though this was true, it was only partially true.

My personal experience during this particular deployment took a very heavy toll on me, inside and out. Though there were some good experiences, there were several life changing experiences that destroyed me emotionally, and spiritually. Things happened in Afghanistan, and at home, that were beyond my control, and I felt as though my life was not worth living. I began contemplating suicide, and started working up the courage to end my life. I had attempted to get help through counseling and medication, and nothing seemed to help. I just had nothing to live for. I knew my family would be sad, but they couldn’t help me. It was up to me to relieve the pain I felt.

There were a few instances where I asked myself if I should go ahead and make the commitment to end my life. There was one final moment where I was literally on the trigger, slowly slipping away from reality. Just before leaving that deployment, I was sitting on the floor in my small, plywood room that I stayed in, holding my loaded, military issued, M4 rifle. I was thinking at that moment about all of my problems that I couldn’t fix, and that God would not fix for me. Nobody truly understood, and going home would only make the pain more real. I was asking myself if I could hold on just one more minute, or if I should go ahead and pull the trigger; and at the same time, asking God to please help me and show me a sign that He was there. I wanted Him to give me a reason not to go through with it.

After several heart wrenching minutes of this, one of the guys I was deployed with, knocked on my door. He was not someone that I necessarily hung out with all the time but he was a pretty good friend. He never really came to my room before that time. After a couple of intense moments where I verbalized my intentions, he told me that he had been in his room reading his Bible and God told him that he needed to go check on me. An interesting fact is that he was not an avid reader or studier of the Bible. That particular day he felt as if he should pick it up, dust it off, and begin to read. After receiving a prompting to check on me, though he didn’t understand, he did it anyway. He was right on time. He spoke words of encouragement to me, letting me know God knew what I was going through. He walked away with my rifle’s bolt, magazine and ammunition, but not before promising me that I would not do anything to hurt myself. He said that if I needed to talk to come to him before I thought about hurting myself. He also made me promise to him that I would read my Bible that day and each day after that.

I saw what had just happened as an intervention by God. I knew at that moment that He was aware of me. A non-believer would dismiss this as a very lucky coincidence, but that is a natural reaction when you refuse to believe in Him. I began from that day forward to read a little bit of my New Testament Bible every day, and it helped.

Interestingly enough, it seems as though throughout my life, God has always found a way to cling to me. It’s as if through the many years of me walking away from him, He was always there, right behind me, following me down each dark path. At each of the darkest moments in my life I would turn back to see if He was there and He was. It was like I couldn’t see Him though. I’d be crying out for Him and looking right past Him at the same time. Then something would happen in life, almost as if He would reach out and touch me, and I would then know that He was there. I was too blind to see Him but every time He was there.

Before this deployment, I wasn’t living a good lifestyle. I was completely self- absorbed, a heavy drinker, small-time drug user, and scared to death of what the upcoming deployment would bring. Instead of changing my ways in order to com closer to God, I decided that I should take my small New Testament Bible with me as my protection. I thought that if I kept that on me at all times, then I felt like I would be alright. After nearly 10 months of deployment and having that little Bible on me every single day, at that moment when my friend came to check on me, it was there. God was there. I had finally needed that little Bible and I used it to help me through.

One morning just prior to our leaving Afghanistan, during the last few days, I was sitting by myself, and reading my New Testament while I watched the sun rise. I could feel within my heart that everything would somehow get better. My problems, or at least my depression and anxiety, didn’t go away when I returned. I quickly went back to drinking and using whatever I could to try and numb the pain; hoping that the very real problems that existed in my life would go away. They didn’t. They truly got worse for me. In fact, this is the time when I hit rock bottom.

The hope that I had felt during the last couple of months of my deployment quickly went away as I realized that there was nothing that I could do to repair the damage in my life. I did everything I could to take my mind off of the hurt that I felt. I had already started to lose an interest in being a good soldier.

At one time I was the golden child of my unit; graduating at the top of my class in several elite Army schools as a Private First Class. I even received an early promotion to Specialist, 3 Army Commendation medals and a Certificate of Appreciation. When I applied myself, I was a rock star. These problems, though, were beyond my ability to fix. I had essentially lost control of a life that I had finally begun to put together. I thought I had finally figured out who I was and what I wanted to become, and now I was losing the ability to control all of that. I was the definition of “losing control”.

From the outside looking in, I was doing a decent job of handling it. I smiled when I really wanted to scream. My uniform was still crisp and I still wore my maroon beret with a clean crease and a mean tilt to one side like I owned the world; and I really just wanted to destroy everything I owned.

I stayed in an apartment that was meant for soldiers to share. It was much like the barracks on base where the kitchen was shared, but each person had their own bedroom; except this was an actual apartment. Walking into my room was like walking into a barracks inspection ran by the meanest drill sergeant with the eyes of an eagle and a bad case of OCD. Every single item in my room was organized, laid out, and displayed as if they were being measured for distance and angles, and wiped with clean white gloves. My bed was made, hospital corners tight, carpet vacuumed, and don’t think you could open up my dresser drawers and find anything not perfectly folded and laid out without wrinkles. It was the only thing I had control of. So I controlled it with a vengeance.

This serves as a good example how it can catch people off guard when somebody commits suicide and the signs were hardly noticeable. From the outside looking in, they seem to have complete control. They are nice and neat. They smile and say they are alright. Their things are neatly organized. They control what they can control with such perfection that it is near impossible to see any warning signs that something is wrong. However, no matter how hard a person tries to fake being positive, though, when they are on the verge of such collapse their weaknesses will show. This is why it is so important to pay attention to those around us and be willing to help. We have to be willing to do whatever it takes to help them, even if it causes us a little discomfort or pain in the process. They are trying hard not to show their problems. Why would they let their problems become your problems by letting you know what’s going on? We must pay attention.

I began a routine of getting off work and heading over to a small store across from one of the gates of the base where I would grab a non-alcoholic drink and then go do what I could to numb my pain. I could control this routine so I did it faithfully and it seemed to give me something to focus on at the end of the day, instead of just going home and wishing I could die. So it passed the time and helped me escape. I kept praying for change and hoping for the best, though the only change I saw was my bright future as a soldier dimmed to a mere flicker and the hope I once had fading into that darkness. Being a soldier was not the cause of my pain. I encountered acts of war, and even experienced a moment where I knew for sure I was in my last seconds of life. This wasn’t the cause, though it certainly was a huge source, it was still a main contributor to my suicidal thoughts and tendencies.

One day, just when I reached the point of accepting the darkness would inevitably come, as I watched the flame of hope go out like a candle, something happened. As though I were in a room void of light, my head hung low, it was as if I had seen a spark. Opening my eyes and lifting my head up, looking around, straining to see what it could have been, I saw a flash of light on the candle wick. I thought for a moment I was crazy but I hung onto that flash like it was my only chance for escape. Allow me to explain.

Like every other day, going through the motions, I got off work, dirty and tired, hopeless and helpless, but still carrying a smile, and I went to that little store as usual. I walked in, grabbed my usual sweet tea and walked to the counter. Behind that counter, a young and beautiful brunette girl turned around, and for a moment, we locked eyes, and all my pain melted away. That candle wick flashed and I saw hope. Before this day, I had never truly been attracted to women with brown hair and brown eyes, but this was different. Seeing her was like seeing something I hadn’t seen in a long time; like finding something I had lost a long time ago and had been searching for desperately.

We barely spoke but we smiled. I was nervous. I tried to be smooth about it and tell her that we should hang out sometime, but after saying it, I felt like a complete idiot. I didn’t ask her name. I didn’t find out anything about her. I was simply star struck and caught off guard. Her smile was mesmerizing. I walked out of the store with my silly drink, and my silly words, in my silly, dirty uniform, knowing that I just blew my one chance at happiness.

I decided not to give up quite so easily. I began to change my routine a bit. Now, I would get off work and go straight to my apartment where I would shower and change into my best clothes and put on some cologne. I still left my room perfect and I tried to leave looking as perfect as possible in case I were to run into that girl again. One day I walked in and there she was, sitting at a table in the back of the store with another girl. They both were eating food from the sub shop and without missing a beat, I lost the use of my mouth, my brain, and all logical thought processes. I walked up to her as she sat there eating, I looked at her salad, looked at her hoping she would say something, and turned and walked away. What an idiot! I bought my stupid drink and walked my dumb self out of that store feeling like I had held that candle up to see if the flame would get bigger and then sneezed all over it.

At this point I figured that I could not trust myself to be suave with this girl. I used to be cool like an icebox but whenever I was around her, it was like I would open the metaphorical icebox door and stand there drooling while all the cool air got out and the ice melted. I decided it was best if I just did this the old school way and write her a note. A note?! What is this 1st grade?! I could see it now “I like you. Do you like me? Check Yes or No”. There’s no way that wouldn’t work, right? When I realized I was almost 30 years old I decided to change the wording a bit because, after all, I specifically remembered passing the 1st grade.

The next day, upon pulling up into the parking space just outside the store, I looked around for a piece of paper and a pen. Since I had come completely prepared for this, I managed to find an old business card and a pen that barely worked somewhere in the center console of my truck. On the blank side of the card I wrote the words “Call me (my phone number) –Blake”. I took a look at my silly face in the rearview mirror and walked inside. She wasn’t there. On one hand I was upset because I was trying hard to work up this courage and I wanted to see where this might lead, and on the other hand I was relieved that I didn’t have to face this fear.

I asked the other girl that was working there where her coworker was. She said two words that confused me so much. “Which one?” she asked

She might as well have asked me what the square root of pi was. I had no idea there was more than one! I hadn’t asked for her name the first time we met! Thank goodness she answered her own question.

“Are you talking about the brunette girl with brown eyes?”

I replied, “Yes! That one.”

She told me she was coming in to work later. Reaching into my pocket to find the business card, I said “Would you do me a huge favor and give her this for me, please?”

She looked at the card and smiling at me, she reached under the cash register and also pulled out a business card. She said, “That’s so funny because she wanted me to give this to you.”

On the back of this card it said “Call me, (her phone number), -Karli <3” I was completely blown away. It was nearly identical to the one I had just handed her, minus the name and a little heart she added to hers.

“Me?” I asked.

Calling me by a mobster nickname that my platoon sergeant had given me, she said “You’re Bobby Blue Eyes, right?”

I smiled from ear to ear, and replied “Yeah…”

She then said, “Then yes, she wanted me to give this to you.”

Mustering all the coolness inside me, I reached way down deep for one of those timeless movie quotes that would leave this girl completely speechless and convince her to tell my crush that she needed to marry me. I said the cleverest thing I could think of, “Are you sure?”

She just smiled and said “Yep! Have a nice day!”

I walked out, again, blown away at the events of this visit. Was anything about this going to be normal? I was excited and I saw that flash become a flicker. I fought every urge inside of me to not text her or call her as soon as I got into my truck. I went about my regular routine after that but this time I did it with a real smile on my face; not just a mask of a defeated man.

I didn’t want to mess this up. I didn’t want to blow this. This girl was beautiful and I needed to see her again. After all, I put in daily effort to look and smell my best despite my inner struggle. I was putting in work. So after getting her business card I waited, and I waited, to text her. It felt like an eternity, and after keeping myself calm and composed, when I felt like the time was right, I texted her… two hours later. Don’t laugh. I did good.

Texting was good because it allowed me time to think of cool and clever responses and not trip all over myself in front of this girl. She texted back and the game was on. She knew who I was and she seemed happy to talk to me. I was ecstatic just to have a conversation with someone I really wanted to talk to, and they were equally excited to talk to me.

The weekend had rolled around by the time we were texting and I was hoping to be able to go on a date with her. She had gone to her dad’s place about an hour away though and she wouldn’t be back for the next day or two so I had to wait to see her. So like, 2 years went by and Monday finally rolled around. We agreed to meet up at the Cumberland River and hang out. We had opted out of going to a restaurant and just hang out at the river, and that turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me at that point in my life.

The surrounding circumstances of our lives put us here in this place, at this time, when we both should not have been there. Not knowing it at the time, we both had been experiencing nearly identical problems and we both were trying to scramble out of muddy holes while rain filled them with water. We sat there by that river, watching the sun set over the trees, feeling like new dreams. There’s not a place, at that moment that I would rather have been. She filled me with happiness.

I would be amiss if I didn’t mention why hanging out at the river was the best thing that ever could have happened. Well… while she was out at her dad’s, she was four-wheeling in her Jeep and while crossing through a field she hit a ditch she didn’t see and busted her nose on the steering wheel. When we were setting our first date, we were discussing where we should go. I didn’t go out much and was unaware of many restaurants in the area except for a place right next to the river. She told me that she had hit her nose on the steering wheel, it was swollen and bruised, and she had not taken a shower in a couple days, so she didn’t want me to get ready or anything, even though I was also dirty from a day at work. So we opted to meet at the river and sit on the steps and just talk.

Looking back, had we gone to the restaurant, we would have surely drank alcohol and started down a path of destructive behavior. But because our first date was at the river, we never, from that point on, went out and drank or “partied” together. We hung out together at friend’s houses as much as it was possible and fell in love. From the moment she turned around in that store and we locked eyes, we were in love. The more we hung out, the more we fell in love.

Something about this girl was familiar but on a much deeper, spiritual level. I have a few different types of Native American blood running through my veins and when I was younger I was given the name “Eagle Heart”. The Eagle has always been the greatest creature that God had ever created, in my opinion. It flies higher than any bird; often higher than storm clouds. Native Americans would say that the Eagle was the noblest of all creatures because it was able to get closer to God than any other. It is as majestic as it is lethal. When an eagle finds a mate, it will never mate with another. When the two eagles mate they fly high into the sky and when they become entangled in their love, they fall to the earth, completely devoted to each other, and just before they hit the ground, they break apart, spread their wings, and take to the skies again. I have always felt closest to this animal. And the love and attraction that I felt for this girl, made me feel like a missing piece of my soul had been found. I got up one rainy morning, sitting on the steps outside my apartment door and called my mother just to tell her that I thought I had “found my eagle.”

My time in service was up and I had lost my will and drive to be an active duty soldier, so I didn’t re-enlist. I did however enlist in the North Carolina National Guard. I was given a contact to my new unit but when I called they told me that I wasn’t showing up on their roster so I should call back in a month.

I had no job but I have always had a natural artistic talent. I was painting custom murals and doing airbrush work to make extra money. I had no reason to be there at that base anymore but I didn’t want to go home where my problems were. I didn’t want to go back to my family or friends in North Carolina. I needed to get away. My girl became my girlfriend and she needed to get away from there too. She wasn’t ready to go back to her home in Texas, either. So we took our only option and loaded up my truck and rode out to her father’s place.

Over the next couple of months we spent our time there enjoying the outdoors, exploring the land we were on, walking through the creeks, fishing, and soaking up the sun. Sometimes we talked about our lives, who we were, where we came from, our families, friends, and even our deepest problems and regrets. Other times we would just take in the beauty of nature and God’s creations around us and our spirits drew closer to each other and to God. We acknowledged Him in everything around us and enjoyed the peace that we were blessed to experience, far from our problems, and any cares in the world.

Slowly, we began to acknowledge that we couldn’t escape the world forever, and we were going to need to go to work soon. As we sat on the front porch of her father’s place, we talked more about life, work, and our desires. We had talked about God so much but we had never discussed church. I had developed a desire to go back to church and hopefully reestablish a relationship with Him that I had once lost.

On that beautiful morning, we were sitting there talking and I told my new girlfriend that I wanted to start going back to church. We had talked about our lives, our accomplishments and mistakes, and even God’s beautiful earth, but we had never had an honest discussion about religion. When I told her that I thought I wanted to go back to church, she looked at me and said, “Well, if we go back to church, we are going to go to my church.”

As I said before, I had been to nearly every denomination of church known to Christians and I was open to going to whichever denomination she belonged to. I responded, “Which church do you belong to?”

She replied, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I am the way that I am because I have fallen away from the church. But I believe in my church and in the gospel, and if I go back to church, I will not go to any church but mine.”

I had a brief thought that her statement was pretty bold for someone who had quit going to church. I also knew all about what it is like to fall away from the church but still love God. I also loved her so I had no problem whatsoever with her words. Since I had never heard of her church before, I asked “Which denomination are you?”

She replied, saying “I’m a Mormon.”

Again, needing to be sure that our core beliefs in Jesus Christ were the same, I asked her “Do you guys believe in Jesus Christ?”

To which her reply was, “Oh my goodness, yes! It’s in our name; The Church of JESUS CHRIST of Latter-Day Saints.”

I then said, “You guys believe that He is the Son of God and that He died for our sins and rose on the 3rd day?”

She said, “We sure do.”

I smiled and responded, “Well, ok then. We will go to your church.”

Afterwards, we decided that we had to move and go to work. There wasn’t any work there in that small town and I had a military obligation that I had to fulfill whenever my new unit gave me a time and place to show. Our options consisted of going to Texas to live with her family or to go to North Carolina to live with my family. If we went to Texas I planned on transferring units. I didn’t care how hard it would be. She told me she wasn’t ready to go back to Texas, though. She was only staying in Clarksville with a friend and visiting her dad because she left Texas to get away from her problems.Her problems, identical to mine, found her working at Fort Campbell during the week and staying with her dad on the weekends. I was there because of my enlistment but I had nowhere to run because my problems were there and at home. Nevertheless, I respected her feelings and said that we would go to North Carolina but I would have to make sure we had somewhere to stay.

The first person I called was my dad. My relationship with my father has always been a great father and son, and even a best friend, type of relationship. He has always been the best dad in the world in my eyes, and I could always go to him about anything, at any time, for any reason, and I might not always like what he had to say but I knew I could count on him for some true fatherly wisdom. He has always been a respectable, loving, and forgiving, man; willing to help others when they needed it, even if it meant that he would be uncomfortable for a while. I didn’t call him in order to take advantage of this charitable nature of his because the reality of it was that I was really unsure how to ask him, much less how he would react to the question. I knew my mother would have gladly accepted too but I just figured it would be easier at my dad’s place.

I called him. We talked for a few minutes and caught up on the latest. I wasn’t the best at keeping in touch with my family during these rough times, so whenever I called there was definitely some catching up to do. So, I hadn’t talked to him in a while, which made presenting the question even harder. But I summoned the courage and told my dad about the beautiful girl that I had just met a couple months ago and fallen in love with. I told him all about what was going on with me and I asked him if he would be willing to let us stay with him for a while until we got on our feet. We were struggling financially and had been for some time and renting a place was next to impossible.

In my dad’s classic fashion, he quickly told me that he didn’t have a problem with it. He, of course, would need to talk to my stepmom to make sure she was ok with it, so he would have to call me back. I waited less than 10 minutes and he called me back and told me that we were welcome to come and stay with them. He set ground rules but happily accepted the opportunity to have his son back home for a while. The one ground rule that sticks out in my mind to this day, because my dad is my dad and there is none other like him, is “Don’t start none, won’t be none.” Meaning, as long as we don’t start any problems, there won’t be any problems. He meant it but he always finds a way to bring a little humor into everything he says. I gratefully agreed.

Two days later, with every single thing we owned tied down in the back of my Toyota Tacoma, we set off down the road, from Hurricane Mills, Tennessee to Chapel Hill, North Carolina. We started down the road in the morning and by late afternoon we pulled into my dad’s driveway. My dad and stepmom met us outside and for the very first time, embraced with open arms, my girlfriend that they had just heard about 2 days before, and yet had never seen or talked to. In a time when I was unsure about even going home because I didn’t feel like anything there could help me through, when I had been gone for so long, and my mother being the only one that had ever heard of Karli, my dad opened his doors and received his prodigal son and his girlfriend with love.

We began searching for work and in the mean time we spent time on my dad’s land, fishing, and soaking up the sun. We fell more in love with each other and learned more about each other and no doubt we were moving fast. All I knew was something about Karli drew me to her like gravity. Like the ocean following the moon, I couldn’t help but feel like she was my destiny. We had our problems but this feeling I had brought a love in my heart that could forgive her for anything. She was the same with me. We could do wrong and yet do no wrong. She was my sidekick, and she was becoming my best friend. We had our problems but we were like partners in crime; together ‘til the end.

I found a job at the airport as a ramp agent, stacking luggage and marshalling aircraft. It was an hour away and I had to be there every morning at 5a.m. Karli would take me to the airport every morning and go out looking for work. She shortly found a job working at a gym less than 10 minutes from the airport and she was tasked to open every morning at 4a.m. So we were up at least 5 days a week at 2a.m. getting ready for work. We made very little money but we worked for every dime of it. We tried our hardest to rely on our income for the food we ate, and the gas money and car payment. My mom had helped us out with getting a car since part of my problems involved my truck being repossessed. That car was our ticket to our new life and we were so grateful for the help.

In order to prepare for this new job at the airport, I had to purchase black shoes, black shorts and black pants, as part of the dress code. One day we went out to get some cheap black shorts from Wal-Mart because if anyone had cheap black shorts, it would be them. We went to the closest Wal-Mart which was 30 minutes away and they didn’t have any. We went to the next closest one 20 minutes away and they didn’t have any. We drove to the next one which was another 30 minutes away and I knew that it was situated beside some other stores that could potentially have the shorts I needed. I was unsure what stores it was close to but I knew there were some there. I went in and found one single pair of cheap black shorts and they were my size. But I didn’t have much money and wanted to make sure that I got the cheapest pair possible. So I hid that pair behind some other clothes on the rack and went next door to another store to see what they had. They didn’t have any either. So I decided to get the one pair that I found in Wal-Mart. We went back in and I purchased them.

After hours of driving around and looking for some simple black shorts, I had finally found a pair. It was the craziest thing to me that they were so hard to find and that it took so long to find them. My sweet girlfriend and sidekick, was with me and so supportive the entire time. We had decided that God would bring us through no matter what, so we had spent the whole time being grateful that I had found a job and that God wasn’t leaving us out to dry.

As we were walking out the doors of that Wal-Mart, we passed by 4 missionaries belonging to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I had never seen any before but something in me knew that they were the “Mormon missionaries” Karli had been telling me about. She had told me before several times that she wished she had her scriptures with her so she could show me and had said things like, “If I could find some missionaries, they would probably have a Book of Mormon on them. I miss my scriptures.” As we passed them, I turned to Karli to tell her “You should go get some scriptures from them.” When I looked at her, she was looking me in the eyes already in the process of saying “Can I go get some scriptures?!” Of course, I quickly told her to run after them.

I want to reiterate how we should have been home by now with my new pair of black shorts hours before this very moment. I could have gotten a pair of shorts from another place. We could have literally been anywhere else, doing any number of other things at this very moment, but the one place we found in nearly 3 hours of shopping that had one pair of the black shorts I was looking for, and this one pair was exactly my size, and we just happen to pass by some missionaries as we are walking out at that very moment. This was clearly a coincidence, right? Yeah. That’s about as clear as mud. This was no coincidence. This was divine intervention. We recognized that and quickly gave thanks to God for being mindful of us and continuing to help us to come closer to Him as we tried to turn our lives around for the better.

Karli managed to get a Book of Mormon from those 4 missionaries and we went home for that day. As I was outside doing a little work with my dad and just kind of relaxing, Karli came out to me with a certain scripture to show me. This was my first encounter with the words and pages of the Book of Mormon. The scripture was Moroni 7:45-47, which says “45 And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. 46 Wherefore, my beloved brethren, if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth. Wherefore, cleave unto charity, which is the greatest of all, for all things must fail— 47 But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.”

We went over to the trampoline that my dad had bought my sister nearly 10 years or more before that day, and we got on it and laid down on it looking up at the sky. I read that particular scripture that she showed me. It was about love and charity, and I was intrigued at how there was another book other than the Bible that spoke so powerfully of Jesus Christ.

That night I began to read aloud to Karli, a chapter of the book per day just before we went to sleep. I started with just the Introduction and the Testimony of the Three Witnesses and the Testimony of the Eight Witnesses. I took the Book of Mormon with me to work every day and read it every chance I got. I couldn’t put it down. Within a matter of weeks, I had read the entire book from cover to cover. When I was done reading it, I told Karli that I wanted to attend her church, as we had not yet attended. I also told her that I wanted to read more.

One day while I was at work, she went and bought the combination Book of Mormon, Doctrine & Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price. She wrote inside the cover telling me that since I had wanted more, she was giving me more. She bore her testimony in her sweet message and I began to read D&C. Shortly after this I had also read the D&C and the Pearl of Great Price from start to finish. I absolutely loved the gospel. Many times when I was finished reading I would sit there and look at the book, with the Holy Spirit moving in me, and I would just marvel at it’s pages. It was truly precious, worth more than all the world’s gold and silver. It was the word of God, given to His children, teaching them and testifying of the power, love, and divinity of His Son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

The week before the Sunday we had chosen to attend church, I had decided to do as the prophet Mormon instructs in the book of Moroni, chapter 10, verses 4 and 5, “4 And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. 5 And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.” Taking Joseph Smith’s example, and doing as he did when he read the book of James, Chapter 1, Verse 5 that says “5 If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.”, I decided that I would go to the woods and ask God like Joseph Smith did, to ask Him if the Book of Mormon was true.

I will not go into details about the witness that I was given by Heavenly Father because every time I want to tell people, I get this strong feeling that they are personal events that should remain between me and Him. I will however say that I had decided to go to the woods on a Saturday before we went to church. Friday night I received a dream confirming that the Holy Spirit would be at the spot I was to go the next day. I found that spot early the next morning and kneeling as Joseph Smith did, I raised my voice to God. The events that followed felt like only20 or 30 minutes but in real time I was in the woods for nearly 2 hours. When I walked out, I knew without a doubt that the Book of Mormon was true.

The next day Karli and I got up and got ready for church. I had previously looked up which ward we belonged to based off of my dad’s address and the start time for Sacrament meeting. We showed up around 10 minutes before service started. Before we went in, Karli offered to say a prayer for us and I was happy that she offered.

Karli knew, though I didn’t, that we should immediately find the missionaries when we walked in. Karli may have fallen away from the church but she never forgot anything about the church. Those two faithful missionaries were standing at the doors to the chapel, greeting everyone that walked in. Karli walked me over to them and introduced us. They introduced themselves as “Elder Williams and Elder Brown”. She told them very briefly that she was an “inactive member” from Texas and I was her boyfriend and something called an “investigator”.

After very brief introductions, we quickly found our place, near the front and took seats in the center pews a few rows back from the podium. It was at this time when Karli leaned over to explain a few things to me. First, she told me that the Sacrament was passed around every Sunday and that only “worthy” members should partake. I later found out that this is something that many mainstream Christians fully understand, but I was unaware. The Sacrament, or Communion as some call it, was not done often in any of the churches I had ever been to. Nevertheless, I was taking this seriously and I was willing to go through the motions and learn and do things the right way. She also explained to me that this particular Sunday was “Fast and Testimony” Sunday. She further explained to me that this day was not like a normal Sunday.

“Now, honey” she said, “today is going to be a little different than a normal Sunday. The first Sunday of every month the time is set apart for people to get up and share their testimonies of the gospel.” She wanted to prepare me in case somebody got up and started sharing.

I had been to church many times in my life up to this point. I was aware of what testimonies were and I remembered that I had given some myself a few times. I didn’t feel in any way uncomfortable that people would be getting up and sharing their testimonies. I was happy to finally be in church and after reading the entire Book of Mormon and receiving a powerful witness of it’s truthfulness, I was ready to hear what others that also believed had to say. Part of what happened next, at the time, was completely normal to me; although, looking back on it now, I can completely understand the panic that went through Karli’s mind, and those poor missionaries that were seated on the other side of her. The other part of what happened was a new feeling; so powerful that it consumed my entire being.

After the Sacrament was passed around, the Bishop opened the floor to the members to get up and bare their testimonies. The first person got up and I began to be moved by their words. The second person got up and I began to experience a feeling that I had only experienced once before in the woods when I went to ask God if the book was true. I was warm, my entire body tingled starting at my head and spreading down to my toes, and my heart began to beat out of my chest. The third person got up and began to speak and I couldn’t help but try to figure out why I felt this way. I prayed while the third person finished their testimony asking God what this feeling was. He clearly spoke to me, answering my question.

The third person sat down and there was nobody getting up. The chapel was full of people and nobody was getting up to share their testimony; at least for about 15 long seconds. It hit me like a bag of bricks. Without questioning, without even thinking, this feeling seemed to overpower me. I stood up and started inching my way out of the pew and began to walk down the aisle to the front. I later found out that Karli, wide-eyed and scared out of her mind, was thinking “WHAT IS HE DOING?!! Please be going to the bathroom! Please be going to the bathroom!” As I reached the steps to the podium Karli is now quietly and franticly asking the missionaries “Oh my goodness, where is he going?! What is he doing?!” I noticed the men that were sitting behind the podium, one of which I knew was the Bishop because that’s how he introduced himself before the service, and the other to be one of his counselor’s, were looking at me with strange expressions on their faces; looks of slight confusion but not alarmed in any way.

I reached the podium and introduced myself. “My name is Robert Chambers and this is my first day here.” Karli’s and the missionaries’ faces were priceless. They were truly scared out of their minds. I was up there to share my testimony because the Holy Spirit told me to. I knew that I had gone in there to hear somebody speak to me about the gospel, only to find out that it was a day dedicated for the sharing of testimonies. Though I knew when this thing began that I would not be getting up to share any testimonies, the Holy Spirit fell upon me and made it known to me with every feeling in my entire being, that I was to get up and share the testimony that I had. So I did.

My palms were sweaty, my body was shaking, and I was trembling. I have never been shy in front of new audiences, so these feelings were new to me. I had only felt them one time before, during the events I experienced when I went in the woods to ask God if the Book of Mormon was true.

As I opened my mouth, I began to tell the people sitting in the church who I was. I told them a little bit about myself and my religious history. I spoke about my recent military service, my deployment, and the overwhelming problems I had experienced. I told them about how I had met Karli, and how we had been led to the missionaries. I continued to tell them that I had read the entire Book of Mormon from cover to cover and had gone out to ask God if the book was true and if Joseph Smith was truly a prophet. Much like this account of my conversion, I didn’t relay to them the details of that personal event but I do know that I struggled to get out nearly every word that I spoke. The power of the Holy Spirit was upon me and though I struggled to speak, the words kept coming. I finally finished by telling them that I was excited to be there, and to get to know the people there, and most of all, that “I may not be an official member right now, but I will be as soon as possible.”

I didn’t close in the name of Jesus Christ but I did pause to look out upon the congregation and to realize what I had just done. As I looked out at my girlfriend, those two missionaries and the people of that congregation, I realized that nearly all of them were crying. They had the same red, wet faces that I had at that moment. I turned to walk back to my seat and one of the men behind me stood up to pat me on my shoulder.

As I said before, I didn’t realize the gravity of what I had done. I just knew that it was supposed to happen. For the first time in my life I was truly communing with God and I was not only hearing I was obeying as well. It’s an experience that I will remember for as long as my mortal brain will work properly.

The members there had been so nice to me when we had first walked in. People kindly greeted me with smiles and handshakes, and it was comforting to know that people were excepting of a new person attending their church. After this service, however, I nearly felt like a celebrity. So many people stopped me to tell me how much they loved me and my testimony, that I couldn’t move from where I stood until I was almost the last person left in the chapel.

We exchanged information with the missionaries and set up a time for me to “take the discussions”. Though I was unsure about what that truly meant, I was excited to do so. I thought that it might be a discussion on when and where to set up a baptism so I could become a member. I had been to many churches where either baptism was mandatory, or an option, to become an active member there, so I was expecting that from the beginning.

My first time taking the discussions, I met with Elder Williams and Elder Brown in the Primary room on the evening of the next day. Karli went with me and we were both happy to be there. The missionaries seemed very happy to be there as well.

The missionaries opened with a prayer, which felt good to me, because they called on the Spirit to attend as we met. They asked me if I had any questions before we began and I said, “When can I get baptized?” I said it with a little humor, though I was serious, and it made the Elders laugh. They explained to me that I had to finish with the discussions first and went on to explain what they were. This is when I found out that it is meant to make sure that the investigator understands what it means to be a follower of Christ. They explain the plan of salvation, who Jesus is, what he did during His ministry, how His gospel was restored in these “Latter-Days”, and what kind of true commitment the act of baptism really is.

Taking my knowledge of the Bible and what I was learning through the missionaries, the scriptures, and prayer I began to have questions; deep questions. The questions I began to have were so deep during the first discussion, that Elder Brown looked at me, smiled, then he looked over at Elder Williams and slid his “Preach My Gospel, Missionary Handbook” over to him and said “I have no idea how to answer that. Here.” We all laughed because though I don’t remember the specific question that I asked, I do remember that it was extremely deep; far beyond the average question that an investigator would ask.

I grew up a Baptist. I knew the Bible and a lot about being a Christian. When this deeper doctrine was presented, many questions I had before were answered, but presented newer and deeper questions also. Elder Williams then looked down at the Gospel Principles book and slid it over to me and said “Here. You take this. Read through it and if you have any questions after that, let us know.” We all shared a laugh again, and I happily accepted the book. Elder Williams followed up with, “Once you’re done with that, I’ll give you my Preach My Gospel, Student Manual. The Handbook is the milk. The Student Manual is the meat.” We continued with the discussions as normal, while I dug deeper.

Over the course of the following discussions, even though there were only a handful of them, I had many questions. During the very first discussion they immediately felt as though, it would benefit me if I took a copy of their Handbook and read through it while we discussed the gospel. In that short amount of time, I read through that, and then the Gospel Principles book. I looked up each verse sited in the book, and highlighted it in my Book of Mormon. In two weeks’ time my

Book of Mormon was covered in different colors of highlighter. I answered every study question and followed every directive in both books. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right, and be sure of what I was doing. I had read the entire Bible before and grew up a Baptist. I was fully aware of what it meant to be a Christian. Or so I thought.

I learned how the Bible has prophetic verses of everything the Book of Mormon claims it is and would be. So much of the Bible was never talked about in any of the churches that I had gone to because there was no clear, definitive explanation on what the verses meant. Many “scholars” made different claims based on their understanding of historical events but even among the scholars there was no definitive answer. And here they were; giving light to the dark corners of the picture so that the whole masterpiece could be seen. The gospel’s plain and simple truths had been restored. The priesthood spoken of in the Bible, of which even the Bible claims that Jesus was the high priest of, and the keys of that power, had been restored.

In my excitement, I posted on social media that I was so happy to have found the restored gospel. I enthusiastically proclaimed that I would soon be baptized by those having authority, in the true church of Jesus Christ, and I quickly met opposition from friends and family. I love my family, and my family loves me, and that has never, nor will ever change. So I will not get into the specifics here on the many things that they and some friends said to me in order to persuade me from joining the church. I will say, however, that they debated me at every turn. For days they fought me hard on the entire doctrine of the “Mormon church”. They told me that it was because they loved me and were concerned about the welfare of my soul. This I know, to at least a degree, was true. I also know, however, having grown up in the same churches and already being aware of the same doctrine they were using to fight this revealed truth, I knew that there was also a part of them that were going on the defensive.

When you’ve lived your whole life believing that what you knew was the whole truth and nothing but the truth, finding out that there could be more doesn’t sit right with some people. It’s understandable for converts to be this way. We are, after all, talking about eternal salvation. Getting it right is extremely important. What they would not realize was that I went into this “investigation” with those same feelings of getting it right, and that everything they were saying, and every Bible verse they sited, I already knew. I had heard it many times before. Yet, when I tested the waters of the restored gospel, I knew that it was truer and made more sense than anything I had ever heard or studied before.

In the past, I had argued many times with others about the gospel. I read the Bible, I knew the word, and my preachers and pastors were right; until I started moving around and going to different churches and started finding the inconsistencies. Believing in Jesus is no small thing. To have your deepest beliefs questioned is one of the hardest things for any person to deal with. This is why religious discussions typically get very heated, even among the most faithful of Christians. This is what caused one of my family members to tell my “Mormon” girlfriend, that they would rather that I went back to being the drinking, cussing, tattoo loving-sinner that I used to be, than to become a Mormon. My positive changes meant nothing just as long as I wasn’t converted.

My friends and family would most certainly argue the points I just made but again, nobody likes to be wrong. So, there I was in a spiritual battle between what was right and what was wrong, truth and lies, and I wasn’t about to lose my soul. Again, I already knew the points they brought up, but some of them were new to me and clearly very hastily quoted from anti-Mormon websites. Nevertheless, they caused me to question things. Similar to so many examples in history, like those that followed Moses through the wilderness, and Lehi’s two sons, Laman and Lemuel, despite having already received a witness from God that the Book of Mormon was His word, and having the Holy Spirit manifest Himself to me on multiple occasions, their words caused me to question some of the deeper points of doctrine that I was learning.

If there was one thing that I had learned, and that I was sure of at this point, is that God does listen to and answer prayers. He does exactly as He did with Joseph Smith. If you lack wisdom and go to God, and ask Him in faith, and believe, He will give answers to your questions. So during this “war of words”, as Joseph Smith once called it as a young boy, searching to know which church he should join, I began to do what was required of me to find out what was the truth, and what were the clever lies of the adversary. I took each point my friends and family made, and I studied the Bible verses they cited, and the Book of Mormon verses that addressed them, the anti-Mormon information they cited, and the Latter-Day Saint information addressing it, and after studying these things out in my mind and in my heart, I went to God to ask Him for the wisdom that I lacked.

The more that I studied, read, and prayed, the more God answered, and the more my testimony of the Book of Mormon grew. My friends’ and family’s efforts to persuade me to not become a “Mormon”, which they truly believe, and wrongfully so, are not “Christians”, the more I became sure that the Book of Mormon was true, that Joseph Smith was the prophet chosen in the Latter-Days to restore Christ’s church to order before His triumphant return, and that my family, though with no ill intent, or malice, or anything of the kind, were completely and utterly wrong about the restored gospel. I know the things they know, and I completely understand why they think the way they do. In all actuality, when leaving your knowledge of the gospel to the Bible, and leaning mostly on your own understanding, aside from listening to a pastor or preacher that went and got a degree, not having the whole truth and definitive answers, can cause a lot of confusion.

There is a denial of the power of Christ that is often times unknowingly present in the lives of the followers of Christ in all denominations, even sometimes to include the LDS church, although not near as often, based off of my own experience. The Bible proclaims that if you were to have faith the size of a mustard seed, and you were to “say unto that mountain, be thou removed and cast into the sea” it shall be done. But mountains aren’t being moved. Why is that? It’s not because a person doesn’t believe it can happen. It’s because a person doesn’t have faith that it can happen. The two words are often used as if they have the same meaning in mainstream Christianity. They are not the same, however, and vastly different than one another. Faith requires action; or in other words, works. In order for it to happen you must be worthy of that power, you must have pure and righteous intentions for removing that mountain, and actually have faith by telling that mountain to move. It is by this same faith, worthiness, and pure and holy intent, that caused Moses to raise his staff at the edge of the Red Sea, and part it down the middle, in order to save God’s people. Only believing it can be done will never make it happen.

This denial of power is the same sneaky influence that will cause a person that knows that the Bible is true to refuse that any other words could have been spoken by Christ, or written by His prophets. The Bible mentions around 17 different books from His holy prophets that are absent from it’s texts. I know the Bible is true whole-heartedly, as far as it has been translated correctly, and that Christ has been communicating with His prophets since He created our world. I also know that He is all powerful, and He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. To deny that He would cause that His word and gospel should be preached, written, and kept by the lost tribes of Israel would be to deny His mercy, love, and justice. I simply could not, after all of my reading, researching, deliberation, praying, and being given answers to my prayers, deny what I knew. Just as my loving friends and family would not accept my conversion based off of what they know, I could not accept anything less than my conversion based off of what I not only knew but was powerfully confirmed by God’s Holy Spirit. Jesus once said “He who looks back after having set his hands to the plow, is not fit for the kingdom of heaven.” It was, and always will be, better to be an outcast among my friends and family, than an outcast from my Father’s kingdom. They never cast me out but I was willing to follow Jesus no matter how far from them it might have lead. Thankfully, we can still love each other deeply despite our differences.

For a moment, my soul was distressed. I met opposition from nearly all sides accept for my loving and supportive girlfriend and her family that already knew the gospel had been restored. I should also say that my mother and father were not at all among those who tried to sway me. They were completely supportive in whatever I decided. My father even said, when he came to my baptism, “I love him. If he’s wrong, then I’m wrong right along with him.” Though this battle in body and spirit was truly a rough one for me, especially after all I had been through, my testimony, and my relationship with God, had grown to a nearly unbreakable strength. I had actually ceased being upset that my loved ones tried so hard to convince me I was wrong, and became thankful to them for wanting me to be sure of my faith, because after all, it was my eternal salvation they were concerned about. And that’s exactly what they did. I became more sure of my faith and my eternal salvation than I had ever been before. I loved them before that, but now, I love them even more.

Prior to finishing the required discussions, Elder Brown was transferred and we received a new missionary, or “greeny” as my Karli would jokingly and lovingly call them, by the name of Elder Mendez; Mendez-Nelson to be precise. He was new but he was great and little did he know he walked right into the classic “Golden Investigator” scenario. I admit, it was “little did I know” as well, because after all this “investigating” I was doing, I couldn’t understand how anyone could deny this truth.

We also found out during this time, that Elder Williams had a very inspiring past as well. Elder Williams’ government name is Michael Williams. We now call him “Mikey”. He is from Utah and his father’s name is Chris Williams. Prior to Mikey’s mission, his dad was a Bishop in their ward. On one fateful evening Chris was driving down the road with his pregnant wife in the passenger seat, and Mikey’s three other siblings in the back, when they were struck by a 17-year old kid who had been drinking and driving. Mikey’s pregnant mom and two of his siblings were killed in the accident. In the aftermath of the accident, Chris looked over at his wife and knew instantly that he had lost his wife and unborn child. Looking back at his three young children, he had lost two of them and Mikey’s next youngest brother that was sitting behind his dad was struggling to hold on to life. This faithful man, loving husband, father, and friend, also knew at that very moment, that he had to forgive whoever it was that hit them, for taking his family from him. Chris and his son that was sitting behind him, both survived. The three surviving members of this beautiful family joined together, leaning on each other, and strengthening one another to make it through such a tragic and unforgettable accident. Chris has written a book about his experience and his mission to forgive, and it has since been turned into a box office movie.

There is no doubt in my mind that the bond between Chris and his two sons grew exponentially over the course of the following months. Chris’ faithfulness and strength most surely gave faith and strength to his sons, especially Mikey, who through it all, decided to go on his mission to share a message to others that there is life after death and that families can be together forever. Now this young missionary, after leaving his father and younger brother for a time to embark on the Lord’s errand, was sitting in front of me doing all he could to choose the right. His dad was writing a book about their experience and we were honored to see such faith in the midst of such devastation. Mikey may never know this but his decision to go on his mission, after knowing what happened to his family before he went, put the mortar in the bricks of the wall of my testimony. That young man, his brother, and his father showed the kind of faith in the Lord and His gospel that I had rarely seen. There was a warrior sitting in front of me with a humble soulteaching me amidst his own battle. He, like all of the LDS missionaries, got doors slammed in his face and obscenities yelled at them, all for trying to share the gospel with others. Yet, here he was, after all he had been, and was going, through joyfully sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ with me.

I was anxious to be baptized. There was a small snag that kept me from being baptized right away, however. The act of baptism is often misunderstood. It is not merely jumping in a pool of water, getting dunked by a believer, and coming out a brand new person. It has much more meaning than that. Christ was baptized by the prophet John, “in order to fulfill all righteousness”. It is an act committed before men, sure; but it is a testimony before God the Father, that you are willing to “lose their [your] life”, in order to save it. It symbolizes the Savior’s death and resurrection and following Him down into the waters of baptism is a physical act of “dying” and “resurrection” that shows Him and the Father that you follow Him. With it we make solemn promises, or covenants, that we will live our lives like Him, taking His name upon us, standing as His witnesses at all times, in all places, and in all things; mourning with those who mourn, comforting those who stand in need of comfort, and doing whatsoever thing He requires of us. When we come to see that our choice to follow Christ, and to be saved, is much more than a simple prayer inviting Him into our hearts, we then start to realize that every choice we make, word we speak, and act in our actions, has rewards and consequences. With that being said, the church wants to make sure that all who are willing to be baptized understand the things they are essentially saying to God in their act of baptism and the promises that they are making to Him. During this process is where I met my “snag”.

Karli and I had everything we owned in one single bedroom in my dad’s house. Half of our stuff was still in boxes and neatly stacked in the corners. We were unmarried, staying in this room and sleeping in the same bed. When we started becoming serious about church again, we resolved to remain abstinent until we were married. This was not, for baptism purposes, acceptable though, because chastity is important to God and along with sleeping in the same bed, comes temptation and the inevitable sin with it (if you are not lawfully married to that person). In an act of faith and obedience, it was important that I show to God that I was willing to obey Him, and distance myself from sin by reducing the temptation and that meant that I either had to sleep elsewhere, or we had to get married.

When the matter of me sleeping elsewhere came up I talked about it with Karli. We wanted to get married but we had no money and we wanted to have an “official” wedding. Official weddings take a considerable amount of money. So, we tried hard to figure out how I could sleep in another bed, or another room, in order for me to be baptized, so that we could continue to progress in our relationship with God and each other. I had even been willing, and told Karli, that I would go to Wal-Mart and buy a tent and set it up in the yard if I had to. This was in November, by the way. Like I said, I was willing to do whatever it took to do what God required of me. Anyone who says that chastity is not important to God doesn’t know God at all. Purity is of greatest importance to Him, after all, “no unclean thing can enter into the kingdom of God”. If it is within our power to obey His commandments, any excuse not to is an open defiance of Him, and you cannot be baptized and knowingly sin against Him at the same time.

As circumstances would have it, there was no other place for me to sleep. Given my options of places to sleep, my best option at the time in all reality was a tent in the yard. Logically, that made no sense to do though. So I was troubled. I called the missionaries the next day, noticeably upset, because it was important to me to be baptized and we were doing our best to remain abstinent despite our sleeping arrangements. Our two missionaries, having the Holy Spirit with them, calmly directed me to a scripture verse that says “…I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.” They then suggested that I take a pen and a piece of paper and write down the different things that I could do to prepare me for baptism and still be obedient. They told me that writing it down and praying for the answer would reveal the answer.

I immediately grabbed a pen and paper after hanging up the phone with them and sat down to write. I remember I was in the break room at my job at the airport. I began to think about things and write each option down. My options were slim but I managed to come up with 5 different options. I was looking at each one and thinking, “yea but…. There’s [this] wrong with [that]” and I couldn’t seem to close in on my target. I remembered the missionaries said that if I write it down and pray that I would receive my answer. So with this small list of things in front of me, I bowed my head, folded my arms and began to pray.

In this prayer, I poured out my heart to my Father in heaven and told Him how important it was for me to be baptized and though I thought that it was unfair that I was trying so hard and yet couldn’t be baptized, I was willing to follow Him. As I prayed, I began to feel as though it wasn’t unfair at all. I began to get the feeling that not only was it fair, it was necessary that I do as He required. I felt the impression to open my eyes and look at the list I had made. As I did, I noticed one thing in common with each of the options I had written. Among, four of the five options, one phrase stood out among them, and that phrase was “marry Karli”. Like a light bulb in a bright room, it was like all confusion on the subject had vanished. When I finished marveling at the power of God and His love for me, at how close He is, and how mindful He is of me, I bowed my head and gave thanks to Him for“preparing a way” for me that I might “accomplish the thing which He commandeth” me.

Karli and I were already engaged and had talked before about getting married and we didn’t know when we would marry but we knew that we wanted a wedding. I was a little worried that when I brought this up to her, that it would be a bit of a disappointment to her. To my surprise she was  excited and we quickly began to make arrangements. We borrowed some bedding from some generous church members so that I could sleep on the floor next to the bed that Karli slept in. She wanted to take turns but there was no way that I would ever sleep in a comfortable bed while she slept on some padding on the floor.

We set a date to be married that was sentimental to us. Our first date on the river in Clarksville was April 15th, 2012. So we set our wedding date for December 15th, 2012. With no money, and little time, our wedding would be very humble.

I owned one suit that I had bought for church that I wore, along with a new white shirt and a new red tie that I bought. Karli wore a pretty dress and dyed her hair a dark brown. She was so perfect. My mom and aunt decorated my mother’s living room for the small ceremony. We had our Bishop, Bishop Kosorok, marry us with Elder Williams and Elder Mendez as our two witnesses, and my mom in attendance taking pictures and watching. Looking back on the event, it was so small and simple; so symbolic of our beginnings.

Though we had wanted a bigger wedding, I was completely in love and as Bishop Kosorok read the vows, I was lost in Karli’s beautiful brown eyes. In the light the color of her eyes reminds me of the color of maple syrup if you hold it up to the light and look through it. Maybe one day we can have a bigger wedding but I would not change a thing about how we were married. It may have been a small wedding; one that we didn’t announce to anyone, but it was absolutely perfect. I was marrying my eagle, my best friend, and the love of my life. Nothing could have made that moment better for me. Being married by our Bishop, and having the two

Elders as our witnesses, made it that much more significant to the changes in our lives.

Faced again with not having much money, I knew that we still had to have a honeymoon, no matter how small it was. I did what any baller on a budget would do and bought a two-day, two-night’s stay in Greenville, South Carolina from Groupon. I can honestly say that, as a man, as her husband, I was, and am still, slightly humiliated in the fact that I could not afford to give her more than I did. Karli, from the beginning, has deserved the whole world. Neither of us was perfect but to me she was my queen and I was hardly being a worthy king. Our wedding rings together cost a total of $120 with tax. My ring was only $36. We got both sets from Wal-Mart as well. Many people would have called us poor white trash but we knew better. We simply didn’t have much yet; and we did the absolute best we could with what we had. What we had, compared to just a few short months prior to that day, was a lot and we were being blessed by our Father in heaven.

Karli knows that if I could have given her more, I would have, but she has always loved how we began and has never accepted my apologies for not giving her more. She will not allow me to feel bad for it because she wouldn’t have changed anything about it, even if she could. She loved me just as much as I loved her and as long as we were together, any wedding and any honeymoon, was perfect.

December 15th, 2012 we were a married couple and heavily in love. That same day we changed our clothes and packed some overnight bags and hopped in our little yellow Hyundai hatchback, decorated with “Just Married” paint, and set off for South Carolina. Just like the humbleness of our wedding, our honeymoon would follow suit. Half way to Greenville it began to rain. It rained the entire time we were in South Carolina. The rain let up for a few brief hours, so we decided we would go to the zoo. But when we got there it began to rain again so we cancelled. We spent the majority of our time in the hotel but we made sure that we got dressed nice and went out to eat a nice dinner together. We share a love for sushi so we went and ate some sushi together and enjoyed our time with one another.

Approximately one month later, I was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. The date was January 19, 2013 which was a Saturday. I had invited all of my family and friends, to which only a handful showed up to support me. I was disappointed that I didn’t have my entire family’s support but I was already prepared for their absence considering the amount of support I had received from them in my decision to convert. Nothing was going to stop me, though, and this was one of the happiest times in my life. I could hardly wait to get into the waters of baptism.

Despite the majority of people that I had invited to my baptism not showing up, I was truly shocked to see how many people actually did show up to support me. People from my ward, and other wards within the stake, to include the Stake President, all showed up to witness my baptism. Extra fold out chairs had to be brought into the large Relief Society room and even then there were people left standing. I had no lack of support from my family; whether that family was of blood relation or not. Everyone that truly supported me in this time was there. Those that could not make it made sure that I knew that they would have been there if they could. I still had a handful of family and even my long-time friend from childhood that used to wake me up to go to church was there. One thing is sure. I was not without love.

I had chosen Elder Mendez to baptize me and Elder Williams to give me the gift of the Holy Ghost and confirm me a member of the church the following day before Sacrament meeting. I had bonded with the President of the Elder’s Quorum, Brother Matt Vanderwalker and I asked him to give a talk. If I remember correctly, I asked Brother Steve Peltz to officiate. I was so excited. I had come to appreciate the value of purity and cleanliness in the eyes of our heavenly Father. With that said, I had also come to despise my tattoos. I had wished that I had never gotten them. Though I knew that it would be very highly improbable that the Lord would literally wash away my tattoos in the water, there was still a part of me that hoped that some crazy miracle would happen. I just wanted to start over with my life, clean and pure, with no reminders of my past.

It came time for me to walk down into the font to be baptized. I walked down the steps and into the water. As Elder Mendez began to raise his hand, Karli realized that up until this point, they had all known me by the name “Robert Blake Chambers”. The reason this is important is because when dealing with official church records, which includes the act of baptism, you must use your entire legal name. My entire legal name is actually “Robert Blake Stevenson Chambers”. She quickly made it known so that it was done correctly. My mother spoke up, and laughingly she said, “You can thank his mom for that!”

Poor Elder Mendez had barely been on his mission for a month and there is no doubt in my mind that he had practiced and rehearsed the words he should speak, and even prayed that Heavenly Father would help him perform my baptism flawlessly. This last minute name insert was a wrench in his bicycle spokes and it was a big wrench too. As he began to speak, the poor guy began to stutter and stumble over my name, “Robert Blake Pete… Robert Blake Peter Pete…. Robert Blake Peterson…” At this point I was wondering if I had previously been known in heaven by the name of Peter. Brother Peltz looked down at us standing in the baptismal font and smiled at Elder Mendez and very quietly said “It’s ok. Slow down and breathe.”

I said a quick prayer for the Lord to help the Elder as he took a deep breath and collected himself. Then those beautiful, eternally significant words came like the sound of a violin and piano instrumental-representation of the Savior’s love, “Robert Blake Stevenson Chambers, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen” He then lowered me into the water and I came forth a new man, baptized with water just as the Savior commanded. I was going to make a joke just now about there being pillars of fire and angels flying around but I thought it might be inappropriate. So I didn’t. You’re welcome.

The very next day I was confirmed an official member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and given the gift of the Holy Ghost. Somebody once said that “the two most important days of your life are the day you were born, and the day you find out why.” Well, I’m not sure about all that because it seemed as if every single day since I began to investigate the Book of Mormon became the most important day of my life. Between being enlightened, visited by the Holy Spirit, and getting married to the woman of my dreams, it was nearly a real-life fairy tale.

I now have a testimony of the restored gospel and the prophet Joseph Smith. I have a testimony of Jesus Christ and His infinite Atonement. I have a testimony of our Father in Heaven that sent His only begotten Son to save a wretch like me. I have a testimony of the Holy Spirit that testifies of Them. I have a testimony of the restored priesthood and keys that have been given in these Latter-Days. President Thomas S. Monson is the Lord’s current prophet on the earth and I sustain him with all my heart. Lastly, I have a testimony of God’s love. His love, when embraced, permeates every nook and cranny of the soul and of life. I love

Him with all that I am. I am truly, eternally grateful, and indebted to Him for the mercy He has given me.

I fell in love with God’s most precious daughter. Her mother fought for her every day of her life, to include when she fell away. Even when she was away from home, doing her falling, her mom was on her knees at night fighting through mighty prayer. My love for Karli brought me to a knowledge of the restored gospel. Because of her I fell back in love with my God. To think about where I would be at this moment without having gone through all of this, is truly frightening. There is a strong possibility that I wouldn’t even be alive to tell a story.

I fell in love with a girl. I fell in love with God. I fell in love with life. I sit here nearly 8,000 miles away from my eternal loves, but they are always near to my heart. Though I’m trying my hardest to find work at home, for now I am grateful for this work that our Heavenly Father has provided my family.

Our past was troubling. Our present is amazing, and our future is glorious. Our Father in Heaven and His Holy Son, love us more than our minds can comprehend. My wife and I, and our handsome little son, are living proof of that. I leave my testimony and my conversion love story with you, in the hopes that it may give you strength of your own. Though it is strength of your own, you are not on your own. There was a battle in heaven before we came to this earth. Why would we ever think the battle would not continue while we are here?

Battles are not fought by one single righteous man, woman, or child, against an army of wickedness; unless we allow it. We must stand together, side by side, through whatever may come our way, ready and willing to accept the things the Lord has in store for us, accepting help when we get weak, and holding each other up when we are strong. This is how I, and my family, will prepare for the second coming of our Lord. When He shall come in His glory with the powers of Heaven, he will find us fighting a fierce fight, unshaken, and not wavering in the face of the adversary. We already know who wins in the end. Endure to the end and we shall be victorious. I share this testimony and conversion story with you in the sacred name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.