God Sucker-Punched Me in the Gut

Many years ago, I lived in Thailand. Instead of becoming closer to my heritage, I was a missionary trying to teach people about Jesus. Most people didn’t want to listen because they were happy being Buddhist, so we had to find creative ways to get them to hear our message. “Creative” often meant being sneaky, deceitful, and dishonest, but it was a necessary evil because we had souls to save. Every Tuesday evening, we held a free English class at the church. The only cost was sitting through a five-minute talk about Jesus and the Mormon religion after the class was over. Of course, the more righteous missionaries taught much longer than that. When I would tell these missionaries we promised to only take five minutes, they’d say, “What’s more important? English or their eternal salvation?”

After class one day, we talked with the students to gauge if any were interested in learning more about our religion. A member from the church let me know that a young woman wanted to speak with me. I was training a brand-new missionary, Elder Edwards, who had only been in Thailand for a few weeks. I had a feeling that he should set up an appointment with her, so I sent him to do that. A few minutes later, he returned with a piece of paper and tugged on his oversized tie like he always did when he got excited. “She gave me her phone number, and we’re meeting this Friday afternoon!” he said. It was a miracle.

Whenever I had these gut feelings, I was never wrong. It wasn’t only spiritual matters either. I knew the police were following me moments before being pulled over. There was an omen surrounding my wife’s first pregnancy, but only I sensed it. A few weeks later, she had a miscarriage. The church I grew up in taught me that this was the gift of discernment or the companionship of the Holy Ghost. I thought I was always right when I had these feelings from God, but life doesn’t let us have these powers unchecked.

My friend Harrison and his family took me to Las Vegas for spring break one year in high school. We drove there and arrived late at night. I saw a bright light on the horizon and was confused because the sun had set hours ago. Once our car reached the top of the hill, I was blinded. As I opened my eyes, I realized they were the lights from thousands of buildings. We drove through the city, and I had never experienced anything like it before. There were almost as many people as flyers to strip clubs scattered on the street. Silence did not exist in the city and was replaced by generic hip-hop songs blasting our eardrums everywhere we went. I could smell and touch the alcohol and semen in the air, making me feel like a sinner, a totally enthralled and excited sinner.

Harrison’s grandpa had a few timeshares and let me and Harrison have our own room. We were alone in Vegas, and it was the freest I had ever felt. Except we weren’t allowed to gamble, drink, or have sex, and his family was staying right next door to us. Still, for a naive Idaho boy, it was the most liberated I had ever been. We wanted to do something rebellious. So when we spotted a menu slid under our door after midnight, we decided to order a pizza. 

“They said they’ll be here in about 30 minutes,” Harrison said.

“I can’t believe we ordered a pizza this late at night,” I said. “And in Vegas of all places!”

“You know, I’ve never heard of this pizza company before. Do you think they’re legit?”

“Dang, I didn’t think of that. What if it’s fake, and they just want to steal our stuff?”

“Oh my gosh! What should we do?”

My gut was telling me to plan for the worst. “Look for some weapons to protect ourselves,” I said as I picked up a mallet. Harrison found the knives.

“We need a plan,” he said. “I’ll answer the door, and you hide behind it in case I can’t hold him off.”

“If he gets in, we can escape out the back. I’ll leave the door open, and we can jump off the balcony.”

Harrison peered over the railings. “We’re on the second floor, so it’s not too high up. We can make it.”

The two of us paced the room and imagined being cut up limb by limb or kidnapped and ransomed for money. Knowing my parents, they would probably say it was my fault and refuse to pay. They’d hang up the phone, and mom would complain about me being so naughty. “We don’t have much time left,” I said. “But we should try to hide anything valuable. Somewhere he won’t think of looking.” We put our wallets in our pockets and everything else we shoved into the washing machine and stuffed a blanket on top. 

The doorbell rang. I rushed behind the door and gripped the mallet tight against my chest. Harrison peeked into the door eye hole, backed up, and gave me a nod. He opened the door a few inches.

“Hello. One large supreme pizza?” a voice asked. Harrison said yes, and the man handed him the box. “That will be $17.89, please.”

I came out from behind the door and saw a short, skinny man in shorts and a cap too big for his head. Harrison gave him the money, and the man walked away with a thank you. We were both so sure we would be murdered by the pizza delivery guy, and I was a little disappointed we didn’t see any action. My intuition was wrong, and that wasn’t the only time.

Every time my family spent the night at a hotel, we went swimming. I would stand at the edge of the pool at the deep end and think I could walk on water. “I have so much faith in Christ. I can do this. I’m not like Peter.” I would close my eyes, take one step, and sink into the depths. This happened hundreds of times despite feeling I had enough faith to walk on water. My gut was mistaken every time, so what else was I wrong about? Joseph Smith? God? Over time, I realized that the Holy Ghost, my intuition, and the feelings I got were all the same. And I learned that my gut was usually full of shit, so why trust it?

In Thailand, on the Friday after our English class all those years ago, the young woman showed up at the appointment. She wore stunning clothes and brought us homemade desserts. We went into the church building and began introducing who we were and our roles as missionaries. The two of us took turns testifying of Jesus Christ and the restored church, and I felt the spirit so strongly. I was sure she felt it too. Elder Edwards asked if she understood or had any questions. 

“ไม่เข้าใจค่ะ (I don’t understand),” she said. “ฉันคิดว่านี่เป็นเดท (I thought this was a date).”

I explained that we were missionaries and couldn’t go on dates. Then I asked the young woman if she was interested in learning more about Jesus. “ขอโทษค่ะ ไม่ค่อยสนใจค่ะ (Sorry, I’m not really interested). Elder Edwards and I were mistaken about what she wanted, and we were disappointed we couldn’t bring another person unto Christ. Yet years later, both of us left the Mormon religion we were born into and stopped believing in God altogether. I didn’t rely on any gut feeling to reach this conclusion. It’s been wrong enough times already, so I’ll trust myself instead.