Legacy

I have a lot of cool ancestors.  Some are royalty and nobility from France, Italy, and England.  Some are peasants from Scotland.  Colonel George Eskridge is my 7th great grandfather:  He was a British attorney who adopted a little girl.  This little girl would grow up to have and raise a son, George Washington.  Maybe you've heard of him?  Those who know European history, or world history for that matter, may have heard of Charlemagne.  Yeah-- we're totally related.  Before that, many of my ancestors are Greek.  One family pedigree chart claims that I'm related to Helen of Troy, but I'd like to see the paper trail on that one before I start bragging about it at parties.  Going even further back, I belong to the House of Israel, the tribe of Ephraim.  Interesting, right?

I guess my point is, all of us come from somewhere.  At some point, all of us will leave a part of ourselves behind for our descendants.  We can be true to the philosophies of our ancestors, or we can reject those philosophies and pass on our own.  It's our choice, and it's a choice that can influence generations of people.  In this sense, every one of us is extremely important in a very literal way.

This year's Sunday school theme is Church History.  In today's lesson, we talked about pioneers.  Mormon pioneers are a little bit different than others.  While many pioneers of the 1800s traveled west in search of land, opportunity, and wealth, my ancestors journeyed west to be left alone.  Many of my ancestors and their friends were threatened and, in many circumstances, killed for what they believed.  In the state of Missouri, where many had settled, it was not only legal but encouraged to kill a Mormon on sight.  (It's history.  Look it up.)  My ancestors gave up everything, some even their lives, for what they believed.  To me, that's a powerful legacy.

One afternoon when I was serving in Harlem, I was confronted on a street corner by a gentleman who, nicely put, wanted to make me look stupid.  That was his goal.  I could tell immediately into our conversation that he wasn't talking with me to learn about me:  He was there to publicly destroy my faith.  After giving me all of the "logical" reasons why Mormonism can't be true, he spouted off some statistic.  Something like, "95% of religious people follow the faith that their parents taught them."  This guy picked a fight with the wrong girl, because I wasn't going to fight.  I told him that he wasn't going to change my mind, and I wasn't going to change his.  I wished him a sincerely happy rest of the day, and I walked away.

Did he seriously think I hadn't thought about all my options?  Of course I had.  I've definitely studied Mormonism, but I've studied a lot of other religions too.  I've considered the option that, maybe, there is no God, and we're purely biological beings.  I've studied every angle.  I've studied things as though I wanted them to be true, and I've studied them as though I didn't want them to be true.  I really wanted to know.  Before I even knew about that "95% statistic," or whatever it is, I didn't want to follow something just because my parents raised me to believe it.

I'm still Mormon.  Not because I'm culturally afraid to change.  Not because I'm afraid my family will shun me if I try something else.  Not because I don't have other options.  I'm still Mormon because I have considered every other option I could think of.  I'm Mormon because I choose to be.

Part of the reason why I decided to stick with it is because of my pioneer ancestors.  Before hearing about the Church, my ancestors were very well off.  (Canadians, if I remember right.)  They gave up all of their possessions, their comforts, and their positions in their communities to get baptized and follow the teachings of a man claiming to be a prophet.  They moved to Kirtland, Ohio and then onto Nauvoo, Illinois.  Driven from place to place.  While working as a missionary, one of my ancestors passed away in a blizzard-- a Book of Mormon in his pocket.  Others pushed their way across the plains.  And for what?  Why would they do that?

The faith of my ancestors is something I can't ignore.  They were well educated.  They were successful.  But this meant little to them when given the invitation to belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  I'm sure they thought through their options, just as I thought through my own.  That means something to me.

Even knowing where I come from, it's still hard.  I haven't had to pack up and walk across the plains with a handcart, but I have been harassed because of what I believe.  I've been threatened, spit on, had things thrown at me, and been chased.  (But don't tell my mom.  She doesn't know some of those missionary stories.)  I've had people send me what I call "anti-literature," or more statistics and stories (which are always taken out of context) claiming absolutely once-and-for-all that Mormonism is an unfounded faith.  I've had these things told to me at school and at home.  I've been called a fool.  And these attacks come from everywhere.  For the Aetheists, I'm too religious and too Christian.  To some Christians, I can't be considered a Christian at all.  So many people would have me believe that they know more about my faith than I do.

I'm so thankful for those experiences, though.  It helps me understand a piece of what my ancestors went through.  And this isn't a new thing either.  Read the Bible.  Study the treatment of Christians during the reign of Roman emperors like Nero.  For me, it is a privilege to stand where my ancestors have stood.  In spite of persecutions and sacrifices, they remained true to their faith.  They had their reasons.

I have my reasons too.  These may not be the same that my ancestors had, but I'm sure some are the same.  Reasons aside, I'm thankful that my ancestors made the choices that they did.  I wouldn't be here otherwise.  So, it is so important that I do the same for those who will come after me.  In my own way, I'm a pioneer too, leaving behind a legacy for my posterity to follow.