My
Religious Journey
Written for a class
by Katie Lynn Jeppson Coleman
January
17, 2025
I
was born to parents who believed that God was real, that He still spoke to men
and women on earth. My father, Robert Charles Jeppson, Sr., was born to parents
who also believed. My mother, Linda Sue Parkins, was taught by missionaries of
the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when she was 13 years old, and
was baptized. They raised their 8 children with family prayer, Family Home
Evening, three hours of church every Sunday, and scripture study. I can
remember the old Family Home Evening manual, with lessons and game ideas. I remember one year when our ward was
challenged to read the Book of Mormon and our family completed the challenge
(though I also remember thinking we had to rush at the end).
One
of the main lessons I can remember being taught, mainly in the context of daily
living and through example, was that we had a Heavenly Father we could pray to
for assistance. My parents prayed to know what to do about my dad’s career.
They prayed to understand what God wanted them to do as parents. They prayed for help when our car broke
down. They prayed when we couldn’t find
something. They prayed about their
church callings. They taught us to believe that we could be guided by this
loving personage, who was real and who knew far more than we did.
Most
of my earliest prayers were infrequent and probably more like a child asking
for something from a vending machine. I
can remember praying for help before I danced in competitions, and praying for
help that God would help the audience feel the Spirit when I danced, but I’m
not sure when the second part of that prayer started. It was probably by 5th
grade, when I danced to the Janice Kapp Perry song, “My Nature is Divine.” I
definitely prayed for help as a child in finding things, because I have always
been forgetful and naturally disorganized.
When
I was young, I can remember a lot of talk about gaining a testimony, and I
think I thought of it as some kind of singular event that would happen all at
once, and then I would have “A Testimony” and never lose it. I can picture
myself at a particular missionary farewell, in church, feeling the Spirit, and
wondering if I had a testimony now.
One of my most poignant
experiences with the Spirit occurred when I was asked to give a talk in
sacrament meeting about the Savior. I must have been around 13. We didn’t have the internet back then, so any
relevant quotes about our topics needed to come from the scriptures or other
gospel-related books. I decided that I was going to sincerely think about the
topic and ask God for help in writing my talk. Of course I shared a room with
my sisters, and there weren’t many quiet places to think or write in our house.
After everyone else went to bed, I lit a candle in my room, and I prayed and
wrote by candlelight. I felt guided in organizing my thoughts, in knowing what
to write, and I felt the Spirit telling me that what I was writing was
true. When I gave the talk the next day,
I felt the same feelings, and I could tell that the congregation did as well. I
had many people share with me that it touched them, and my dad wrote me a note
telling me how proud he was of me. This
experience was one of the first of many I had where a desire for action was
tied to the gift of the Holy Ghost. I wanted sincerely to write and share
truth with others, and the Holy Ghost helped me to know what to do. Even though
I didn’t recognize that pattern at the time, it is one that has shown up in my
life over and over again.
Another pattern of
feeling God’s presence in my life that I have recognized has been when I needed
comfort or reassurance about who I am.
Around the same period of time, I felt the degrading influence of the
world talking to me about my worth as a female, tying it to my weight. I had been a ballet dancer since I was 6, and
it was a large part of my identity. Ballet dancers are supposed to be very
lean, without curves. As I went through puberty, curves came, and for the first
time, I started to wonder if I should eat to fullness. This was heightened one
day when my dance teacher talked about how she needed to lose five pounds, and
told us her weight. I was already heavier than her, and I was only a teenager.
I decided to stop eating so much. But every time I decided that, I would get
really hungry and then eat, and I would feel ashamed. Once, I made myself throw up what I had
eaten. Later, when it happened again, I went into the bathroom with the plan to
throw up. But instead, I fell to my knees and prayed. God told me that it was
the adversary making me feel that way – that those feelings were not from Him
and that He loved me. Even though I
battled with feelings of insecurity about my body many times after that, I
never forced myself to throw up again, and I always remembered that those
degrading feelings came from the enemy. I was determined not to listen to him
more than I listened to God about who I was.
Recognizing those
two patterns has shaped my life. I have gone long periods of time where I
wasn’t completely tied to God in thought and action, but I have still had
countless experiences where God has helped me know what to do, and when
He has told me who I am.
Closely tied to my
experiences with the Spirit has been my desire to live His commandments. My
parents (and I would say the church as a whole), emphasized the phrase “Choose
the Right” over and over again when I was growing up. Even though I had plenty of rebellious periods
(like a severe potty mouth at school in sixth grade), I did have a desire to do
what was right. The problem was, many
times, to me, that meant following a list of outward rules that everyone could
see – like modesty, not swearing, not dating before 16, not watching R-rated
movies, not drinking caffeine, etc, - and many times that left out some
important rules like being kind and loving to others. By eighth grade, I was determined to live
righteously in an outward sense, but I was still gossiping. I was still very
unkind to some of the girls my age when I was trying to be funny. This duality would go on through high school,
though I do know there were a few instances where I stood up for others when
others were being unkind. I also know that I harshly judged my friends who were
going to drinking parties in the desert and wearing clothes that I considered
immodest.
I’m sure I was
also influenced by my first bout of depression at age 16. Since I had recently
also broken my own rules and gotten a boyfriend (Chad – who would later become
my husband), some of my friends and church leaders tied that fact to my change
in demeanor. I was talked about a lot behind my back, my grades fell, and my
parents worried about me. My mom, ahead of her time like she often was,
recognized my symptoms because she and my brother had both experienced clinical
depression. She took me to therapy and to a doctor. With medication, I
improved, but many of my relationships with other church members had been
damaged by my self-isolation and the knowledge that, when I had been suffering,
a lot of the people I trusted had been questioning my righteousness. Even my Young
Women’s president took me aside and told me I was ignoring my friends in favor
of a cute boy, not having any idea of what I was going through. When I went to the stake president for my BYU
application interview, he pressed me heavily on the fact that I had had a
boyfriend (who was now on a mission), questioning me about whether I was truly chaste.
I barely knew him, and I felt both shame and indignation. Looking back, I can see why being kind to
others wasn’t always tied to righteousness in my head. Rules and appearances were
heavily emphasized in church culture at the time.
In college, at
BYU, I started to question my own rules of strictness a bit. I drank Dr. Pepper
for the first time (gasp). I had discussions with a friend about many of the
tough parts of LDS history, like polygamy and the priesthood ban. I also struggled with my mental health again. Even though I often went to God in prayer for
help, I let my testimony float along for several years. As I became less self-righteous, I also
became less certain about everything. Basically, I had to leave my simpler
ideas of faith and righteousness behind, and I had not yet accepted a more
nuanced faith.
I married in the
temple to that high school boyfriend. I didn’t realize how much I was still
struggling, mentally, but I found it hard to do some basic things, like drive
across town, look for jobs, talk to people, and go to Relief Society, not to
mention the things that other people couldn’t see, like clean my house. I would
often find reasons to go home after sacrament meeting and to avoid others. I
hid it pretty well from most people, but I was basically just letting life
carry me along.
I was also still
talking to that friend from college, who dove deeper and deeper into the issues
of the church. They decided to leave - not just our religion, but all religion
and belief in God – and announced that decision to me over instant messenger. I
was determined to always treat them the same and was sympathetic to them. I had
left the issues we had talked about in the darkest recesses of my brain, but this
friend’s decision pushed me to ask myself if I would also eventually
leave. Did I believe that Joseph Smith had truly seen God and translated the
Book of Mormon? Did I truly believe that God knew me? No matter how much I
thought about it, I came to the same conclusion: I could not deny that I
believed. I did.
So why wasn’t I
doing more about it? I had allowed myself to be ambivalent towards the gospel, but
I couldn’t really allow that anymore.
Another experience
also influenced my commitment to God. We had our first child, Colin. My mother came to help us care for him. It
was very difficult at first. He had severe jaundice, so they gave us a little phototherapy
bed to lower his bilirubin levels. He had to sleep there with a mask on to
protect his eyes. One of us had to be watching him at all times, so that he wouldn’t
pull the mask off and so that he wouldn’t overheat. In my exhaustion, I was incredibly anxious,
and often insisted on being the one who stayed with him, which led to further
exhaustion. Colin would get his heel pricked to draw and test his blood almost
daily. His bilirubin levels kept dropping, so we were able to have him sleep in
the bed less often. But he became very fussy.
None of us could soothe him, not even my very experienced mother. When we did manage to get him to sleep and put
him in his bassinet, he would wake up quickly and cry again. His bilirubin
levels also kept raising again, threatening his brain development and requiring
daily trips to the Dr., and a subsequent return to the bilirubin treatments.
Even the Dr. was baffled about what was going on.
Dealing with all
of this while learning to breastfeed and adjusting to being completely tied
down all day every day was very stressful. One night, I asked my husband for a
blessing so I could know how to help Colin. I can’t remember the blessing at
all, but immediately a directive came into my thoughts, clearer than any
thoughts I had had for days. I was told to breastfeed Colin every hour-and-a-half,
and that that hour-and-a-half should be timed from the beginning of the
feeding. I should do this 24 hours a day, even waking him when he was sleeping.
So, often, I would feed Colin for 45
minutes and then need to start again 45 minutes later. It worked perfectly. He
became the calmest baby. Even though I was still exhausted, my baby was okay,
so I also was. Colin was eventually diagnosed with a rare type of jaundice,
which lasted through his first month of life, but there were not lasting
affects to his brain. I knew without a
doubt that God had told me what to do to help Colin. My confidence as both a
mother and a daughter of God grew by leaps and bounds. I turned to God more and more often, and I
felt invigorated by my job of caring for Colin.
My commitment to
God and His gospel has remained since then this period. That doesn’t mean that
I haven’t had moments, days, and seasons of being less committed to God. I
have. I have still had periods where I
haven’t opened my scriptures for far too long. I have neglected my relationship
with God at times. I haven’t always been
diligent about going to the temple. I
have also still struggled with depression and anxiety, as well, which
complicates things. I have had to learn that one of the indications that I am
struggling with depression again is when I am doing what I am supposed to but
still don’t feel the Spirit. I have had
to separate my ideas of worthiness from my very real and physical struggles
with mental health.
I have still had
crises of faith, when I have again faced hard issues, and I have asked myself,
“Do I really believe?”. Sometimes, the answer is that, at that moment, I
choose to believe, based on all my past experiences. I have had even more profound experiences
with God lifting me up and telling me who I am, and in those moments, I
feel like I will never doubt again. But that is not how life works, especially
when you struggle with depression, anxiety, and ADHD. That isn’t how life works when you are surrounded
by different ideas, issues, and questions that you can barely wrap your brain
around. My faith has gone through many high periods of strength and simplicity,
followed by periods of complexity and adjustment. I have learned to understand
that that is normal. I don’t just
blindly accept every issue of the gospel, its history, and the imperfection of
our leaders. But I also understand that I can’t blind myself to what I do know
or what I have experienced and throw all of that away every time I run
into something difficult. I wouldn’t be honest if I did. I have also learned
that not everyone is as sincere with their gospel discussions as they would
have you believe. I try really hard not to be that way. I try really hard to be
humble enough to not suppose I have ever attained some height of knowledge and
wisdom that makes it so I can see things as clearly as God, or more clearly
than His ordained leaders.
Another adjustment
that I have made (and I have seen the church as a whole make in my lifetime),
is a greater focus on Jesus Christ and His atonement. The faith of my childhood stood more on my
Heavenly Father and my relationship with Him. But God demonstrated His love for
us through His Son. He wants us to experience His love through Jesus Christ,
and I have learned to do that as an adult. I have learned that His atonement
isn’t just there for the big sins. When
I rely on Jesus Christ, by approaching Him with a broken heart and contrite
spirit, I am continually sanctified. I
try to bring my sorrows and my sins to Him when I take the sacrament and when I
pray. No matter how broad or grand my perspective of the gospel becomes, I am
lost without that relationship. I am always at my happiest, most peaceful, most
loving, and healthiest state when I am relying on Jesus and turning to Him over
and over again.
I keep the
commandments now not because I want to prove my righteousness, but
because I love Christ and trust Him, and because not keeping His
commandments is a betrayal to both Him and myself. I want to remain close to
Him – having His influence, mercy, compassion, and perspective – and honoring
His laws is one way to do that.
How I treat others
is just as closely tied to my love for Him. I want to be like Him – always seeing
others as incredible souls with divine potential. I want to not hurt
people, not lessen His light in their lives. That kind of love is entirely up to me. It
can’t be lessened by others’ actions or decisions. I am responsible for how I
feel towards others, no matter how they treat me or what they believe. There is great power in this kind of charity.
My callings in the
church have allowed me to experience Christ’s mercy and compassion over and
over again, not just towards myself, but towards others. Like I have mentioned,
I have faced depression, anxiety, and ADHD, which all affect my executive
functioning and my ability to fulfill my callings. I can see how poorly I
served as a primary secretary right after having Gabe, when I was adjusting to
life with two kids. But as I have continued to try, and to care, relying on the
Holy Ghost, God has given me strength and ability. I have served imperfectly as
an activity day leader, a Primary counselor multiple times, stake Primary
counselor and president, Young Women’s counselor multiple times, Primary music
leader, seminary teacher, and Relief Society president. I felt overwhelmed many times when called,
and honestly never ever expected to be called as Relief Society president
because of my struggles with executive functioning, but I have trusted God to
help me do His work. I hope that I have been able to point others to their
Savior through my church service.
I have also felt His
power and influence when giving talks or teaching. I have felt His guidance as
He tells me what to write and share. I have felt the Spirit while teaching, and
I have had countless people tell me that what I shared truly mattered to them.
I write this down not to boast, but as a record that God works through weak
people. I am one of those weak people. I am grateful that He has used me as in
instrument in His work – it is a testament to me of His power.
I mentioned
earlier that I have seen a pattern of receiving answers when I have asked what
action to take to help others. Nowhere has this pattern shown up more than my
familial relationships. Starting with Colin’s breastfeeding schedule, God has
given me His wisdom in order to help my kids so many times that I can’t record
them all here. He has told me when to take kids to the Dr, what kind of reading
help to get them, what to say to them when they are struggling, when to shut my
mouth, and when to sit back at trust His timing and ways of working with
them. Any lasting good I have done as a
mother has been because of His influence and power in my life.
The same is true
for my relationship with my husband, Chad. Starting with our friendship in high
school, when God kept prompting me to befriend the new kid at school, God has
always given me inspiration about how to treat Chad – that is, when I humble
myself and ask. I am not a perfect wife, but I am a much better one because of
God’s guidance.
Every aspect of my
life – my education, my health, my home, my family, how I spend my time – has
been influenced by my knowledge of God and my relationship with Him and His
Son.
