It's Time: A Family's Journey of Discovering Truth and God's Amazing Grace

Copyright © 2013 CINDY PRINCE.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1-(866) 928-1240

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

All scripture marked NKJV taken from the New King James Version. Copyright 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas Nelson, inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

All scripture marked NIV taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4908-0632-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-0634-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-0633-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013915369

WestBow Press rev. date: 10/24/2013

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Preface

Acknowledgment

Chapter 1 Ten Foot Tall & Bullet-proof

Chapter 2 Pathway of Providence

Chapter 3 Breaking the News

Chapter 4 Out With the Old

Chapter 5 In With the New

Chapter 6 The Most Correct Book

Chapter 7 This is My Story

Photo Section

APPENDIX 1 Our Letter

APPENDIX 2 The Smithsonian Institute Letters

APPENDIX 3 D&C 132—The Polygamy Revelation

Glossary

Notes

I dedicate this book:

To my husband John—For recognizing truth, responding to God’s call, and leading our family to a new life in Christ

To my children—That they will know and always remember what God has done for our family

To all believers in Christ—As a reminder that we serve an awesome God

To those who’ve left Mormonism—You’re not alone!

To those who haven’t—That their eyes will see, ears will hear, minds will open, and hearts will be made new

To those praying for loved ones—There is hope!

To those considering joining—Please read Galatians 1:6-9, Proverbs 14:12… and our story

To our almighty and amazing God—that He alone

may be glorified!

PREFACE

I LIVED MORMONISM; I LOVED it—and I left it. This is the first sentence that you’ll read in the last chapter of this book. It’s also a sentence that God used to change my life forever.

A little over 14 years ago I heard these words for the first time. Fourteen years before that, I entered the Mormon temple in Salt Lake City for the first time.

I thought I had everything all figured out. I was a proud member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, married and sealed in the LDS Temple, blessed with five beautiful children, active in my Church callings, and bound for the Celestial Kingdom to live with my eternal Heavenly Father. The sentence I quoted above was written by a lady named Latayne Scott, whom I had never met, never heard of, nor, if you had asked me, would I have wanted to. Like her, I loved Mormonism. It was my life, my identity, my purpose, and my future. Then one day, God said, It’s time to leave. This book is our story.

I had heard all kinds of things about people who leave the Church and then openly talk against it, but this author sounded nothing like what I had been told. Her love for the Church and what it had meant to her sounded more like mine. My curiosity and confusion were peaked—the beginning of the end, you could say; but the end of what exactly?

Through a series of events that I never would have believed possible, I left the Church. Now, almost fifteen years later, I’m still waiting for the sky to fall, the retribution to come, and the withdrawal of the Spirit that’s supposed to happen to apostates. It hasn’t happened. In fact, I’ve never felt more forgiven, felt His love more strongly, or been more amazed that He loves me and answers my prayers in spite of myself. The Spirit didn’t leave; it grew. Instead of retribution, I have received blessings and peace that defy explanation.

Why did I leave? What changed my mind? How could I believe it and even teach it so wholeheartedly, and then walk away? Why am I so sure this was God’s doing and not some impeccable act of deception?

I’ve always known that we would one day share our story. If you’re not a Mormon, then I hope our story not only shares what it’s like to be one, but takes you on the journey of a loving God who led us out of the Church and into the arms of grace. If you are a member of the Church, then I want to share the words of Christian evangelist Francis Chan as he prepares his readers for the awesome challenge of his book, Crazy Love, Come with me on this journey. I don’t promise it will be painless. Change, as we all know, is uncomfortable. It’s up to you to respond to what you read.

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord,

thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.

Jeremiah 29:11 (NKJV)

And now, It’s Time.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

AN OVERWHELMING DEBT OF GRATITUDE goes to the contributions of:

My husband John. I was able to write a book with more than 200 pages, and yet I cannot find enough words to describe what this man means to me. YOU, honey, were the motor in the boat that started and propelled this ship that God built, and you gathered your family on board. You were the one who listened and loved God enough to realize, Something’s not right here. You faithfully and tirelessly read page after page, time and again, making suggestions and corrections. For the past two years, with each edit and revision, you were still willing to reread it cover to cover—always encouraging and never once doubting this book would happen. You never gave up on me, unfailingly reminding me to simply tell our story and let God take it from there.

Lacy, Kristen, and Heather, my editor daughters, with their fine-toothed combs and suggestions. You cleaned comma splices, offered word choice substitutions, suggested title changes and book format ideas. You pointed out sentence fragments and my southern colloquialisms, even the ones I didn’t want to relinquish. It’s a better book because of you. Your encouragement, prayers, boldness, and patience, and the repeated phrase, I’m so proud of you, Mom, were oftentimes all I needed to keep going.

Kevin and Josh, my cheering You can do it! sons, who contributed sound advice such as encouraging me to take a break when I was feeling tired or overwhelmed, reminding me not to leave too much out (They need to know, Mom), warning me not to rush because quality is more important than how fast I finish, and pointing out observations that I had not even noticed. Most of all your words of Go momma go! and much needed son hugs were always there when I needed them.

Jordan, my son-in-law, who insightfully contributed suggestions based on his understanding of the way things work in the field of marketability, technological appeal—always taking into account things like hashtags, domain names, blog titles, demographics, and ways to draw attention to the story and ministry God has laid on our hearts to share.

Rachel and Sheryl who read and occasionally re-read the chapters, giving me food for thought from a Christian perspective. Because of you and other Christian encouragers, I was able to realize the importance of explaining new words and terms as I go along which I had previously assumed everyone already knew. You contributed encouragement, support, and most of all, your much appreciated prayers for me and my family.

Latayne, Sandra, and all the pioneers who blazed this trail before us—kindred truth-seekers and former Latter-day Saints with a heart for God above everything and everyone else.

And above all…God, the real author of this story.

CHAPTER ONE

Ten Foot Tall & Bullet-proof

My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways, saith the Lord.

Isaiah 55:8

WAKE UP! WE’RE GOING TO talk about this! I want to know everything that was said. I knew John had not been in bed long. It was early Sunday morning, August 2, 1998. I assumed that he had just gotten in from his dad’s house, having spent all night discussing things with him—Church things, and not the faith-promoting kind. What I didn’t know yet was that he had actually been home for hours, on our computer, and that the conversation we were about to have was part of a series of events that would change my life forever.

(NOTE: Throughout this book, when you come across any of the following words: Mormons, Latter-day Saints or LDS, and sometimes simply the Saints or members, they are all referring to the same Church or group of people. I will also capitalize the word Church to make the distinction between what Mormons call their Church from what is known as the body of Christ, and also from the physical church buildings in which they gather.)

You only get married once.

In December, 1983, I was a student at Brigham Young University and had come home for the holidays. Growing up as a Latter-day Saint teenager, I had always loved attending the monthly youth dances at the stake center. We usually looked forward to these because it gave us the chance to see and meet other Latter-day Saints in the surrounding areas that we don’t get to see each week, especially in our area where Mormons are few and far between. The enormous Church membership, which is worldwide, is organized into manageable divisions called stakes and wards. Where you live, literally your home address, is how they decide what ward you are in. This, in turn, determines what time you go to church, which chapel you attend, and even the people you worship with each Sunday. If you live in an area where there aren’t very many members, you are in a branch, instead of a ward—basically the same thing, only smaller. All wards and branches belong to a larger stake. The stake oversees the surrounding local wards or branches who meet together monthly for organizational meetings, social events such as the dances, conferences, etc.

I was looking especially forward to the upcoming New Year’s Eve dance because it traditionally had a very nice turn out. Plus, I had been away at college in Utah, and this would be my first opportunity to see a lot of old friends whom I had not seen since I left for the Y (i.e. Brigham Young University) a year earlier. I had no idea that a higher plan would be put into action that night. A young, twenty-three year old, fresh out of the military, had just finished his five years of service in the US Air Force. He had decided to attend the dance as well. His name was John Prince. John’s younger sister, Janet, and I had been childhood best friends before my family moved to another school district when I was twelve years old. To me, John had always been Janet’s older brother who drove us around wherever we needed to go. To him, I’m sure I was just another one of his little sister’s little friends. A sovereign God knew we would one day see each other a little differently, however.

The dance was crowded, as I had anticipated. Even though it had been about seven years since my family had moved, we both still recognized each other. John asked me to dance, and I accepted. While we danced, he proceeded to compliment what a great job my mom had done in raising me. He still claims today that he was smitten right away; at least, that’s the word he uses. As for me, if his smoothness on the dance floor and flattery weren’t enough to catch my attention, his singing certainly sealed the deal as he began to sing along with Elvis’s I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You into my ear. I later learned that he went home that night and told his mom that he had met the girl he was going to marry. He was correct.

We talked so easily and hit it off so well that I boldly invited him to come to my ward to hear me sing the next morning in Church—even though it was an hour away! He came, and I was duly impressed. Another thing that struck me was his confidence and manners around the people in my ward whom he had never met. It wasn’t a cocky kind of confidence, but a unique, self-assurance type which was rare and which I found extremely attractive. It was probably a result of his time spent in the military. When I went back to college at BYU, he sent me flowers two weeks later for my birthday.

Shortly after that, my path started changing direction. I tried to concentrate in my classes, some of which I had really been looking forward to taking that semester, but I could not shake the feeling that I wasn’t supposed to be there anymore. I wasn’t sure whether or not John was part of the reason; I just somehow knew that it was time to go back home. God has often worked with me that way. When it comes to the major decisions in my life, when I know, I just know. Since then and over the years, John has often jokingly pointed out how mighty confident and presumptuous I must have been to assume that he’d want to date me when I got back here—to which I would respond, And just what makes you think this was all about you? Of course, his version of the story includes the fact that I just couldn’t resist his charm and good looks.

One of my roommates was missing her boyfriend at the time so she and I decided to take a road trip. Hers was a temporary road trip to see a somewhat forbidden love and I honestly don’t remember what her plan was after that. Mine was a one way trip back to East Texas, so I did it—I withdrew from school, packed everything I had with me in that six-person two-bedroom apartment, loaded up my little car, and headed out across the Utah mountains in the snowy white month of January. I wasn’t sure just where this change in direction was going to lead or what I was going to do when I got there; I just knew it was time to go.

My step-brother and my older sister were beside themselves with worry because of the completely foolish and irresponsible thing that I had done. Granted, I had never driven in the winter over mountainous terrain before, and I had also never driven such a long distance by myself. This was also during the pre-GPS and cell phone days. Nevertheless, my roommate and I parted ways in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and I went the remaining journey across the great state of Texas alone. Looking back, now that I am a mom of three daughters of my own, I can understand why this must have been a bit terrifying to my family. As I said, however, when it comes to major, life-altering decisions throughout my life, when I know, I just know. I knew everything was going to be fine.

I arrived home safely, moved all my stuff back in, got a job, and John and I began dating. Although we already knew we were going to get married, he formally proposed under the stars in mid-June. With a ring on my finger and stars of our own in our eyes, we began planning our wedding. The first and most important decision we had to make was where we would get married—and I’m not talking about the choice of a venue. A simple venue decision was nothing compared to the weight of this decision. My dad was not a Mormon, and we both had friends and relatives who would not be able to come to our wedding if we chose to marry in the temple. They would not be able to obtain a temple recommend for various reasons. A temple recommend is basically a ticket to go to the temple which I’ll explain later. One of our options was to have a traditional civil wedding outside the temple and go to the temple later to be sealed for time and all eternity. This is not recommended within the Church, but some still choose to do it that way.

A friend once asked me what being sealed meant—if it was the same thing as getting married or being joined together. When Latter-day Saints use the word sealed, it is typically followed by the phrase for time and all eternity. When Mormons marry in the temple, they believe it not only means they are now married for this life, but that their marriage has been eternally sealed in the next life as well because it was done by the proper authority (a worthy LDS Melchizedek Priesthood holder) and in the proper place (the LDS temple). Every child born to them from that day on will be theirs for eternity as well because they were born under the covenant they made with God during their wedding and sealing ceremony in the temple of their choice.

When a couple gets married civilly (outside the temple), it is usually because at least one of them were not yet members of the Church when they got married, or they simply decided not to get married in the temple for one reason or another. They can still go to the temple later, however, for a wedding-like ceremony to have their marriage sealed for eternity, once they’ve met certain requirements. If they already have children when they decide to go to the temple to have their marriage sealed, they can bring those children with them to the temple and a worthy Mormon priesthood holder can seal them to those parents for all eternity. My sister and her husband did this when their oldest child was just a few months old. I remember her talking about how sweet it was when they put his tiny hand on theirs to be sealed together as a forever family.

Hearing her talk about the sweet spirit she felt when they were all sealed together, and knowing that the construction of the Dallas Temple would be finished by the time we had been married a year, which is how long a civilly-wed couple must wait before they can have their marriage eternally sealed, we were leaning toward a traditional ceremony. Doing it this way, no one would have to miss out on seeing us get married, and we wouldn’t have to travel so far to go to the temple. It seemed like the perfect solution, a win-win for everyone. Except for one thing—that is not what LDS girls are taught to desire for their wedding day, and I had been taught well. In my heart, in spite of how much I knew that it would hurt my dad and others who would not be allowed to attend, I loved the gospel and believed that it was the right thing to do and what the Lord wanted. I knew how I wanted to get married, and I knew exactly which temple.

The first time I saw the Salt Lake temple, I was mesmerized. It was like a castle. I had seen pictures of some of the interior rooms which were allowed to be photographed, and they were so beautiful. The little princess-wanna-be inside of me wanted to get married in that castle. My mom and step-dad had their marriage eternally sealed there, and they had a large, framed photograph of the temple on the living room wall. In spite of my love and longing for my temple, there were other factors that we had to consider. John talked to his bishop (Mormon equivalent of a pastor) about our plans to marry civilly first, then go to the temple later. His bishop listened attentively and understood our reasoning, but then he gave John the following counsel: You only get married once, so why not do it right the first time?

Taking the bishop’s words into consideration, John and I discussed it again. In spite of whom it would exclude or hurt, we decided that the bishop was right—the temple it was. On August 16, 1984, John and I, accompanied by a handful of temple-worthy LDS family and friends, went through the temple, aka the House of the Lord, for the first time. We were married and sealed for time and all eternity in the beautiful Salt Lake Temple, like countless faithful Mormon couples before us. You’ll find pictures from that day in the photo section located after the last chapter of this book. We were a pretty good-looking couple if I say so myself.

The top of my wedding cake was a miniature crystal replica of my temple. It even had the tiny golden image of the angel Moroni on top of one of the spires. One of the wedding gifts that my parents gave us was a large framed picture of the Salt Lake Temple, just like theirs. I was thrilled that I now had one of my very own. It was the first thing to go up on the most prominent wall of every home that we lived in for the next fourteen years of our marriage.

Just three short months after we were married, not all that uncommon with young LDS couples, I became pregnant with our first baby. Lacy was born less than a month after our first wedding anniversary. She was later followed by four equally beautiful siblings—two sisters and two brothers. We were truly blessed. I was faithful to teach them the words to songs such as I Love to See the Temple and Families Can Be Together Forever. These as well as several other Church Primary songs were destined to become favorites as part of bedtime routines and car rides. I wanted to make sure that they were being raised to love the temple as much as I did and to understand its role in being able to live together forever in the Celestial Kingdom with Heavenly Father. I taught those songs and lessons not only to our own children, but to countless other Primary children who had been entrusted to my care throughout the years. I tried to teach them the importance of preparing themselves while they were young to be worthy for the day that they would get to go inside the temple. That was the ultimate goal.

I would never have imagined or believed that, one day, the temple that I cherished so deeply and for so long would come down from our wall and out of our home forever.

An Unlikely Source

A little over a year after our last child, Joshua, was born is where this story begins—August, 1998. John and I, along with our five young children, ranging in ages from thirteen months to almost thirteen years, were living in a three-bedroom mobile home at the time. We had been dreaming of building our own home for years, and it was finally time to draw up the plans. John’s father was a homebuilder and had drawn the house plans for numerous homes that he had built over the years. He had the expertise to draw a professional blueprint so it was only natural that he would be the one to draw the final draft for our home once we decided what we wanted.

There was a serious complication with this, however. Every time that John would go over there to discuss our house plans, his dad, who is also a Mormon, would get into a discussion about the Church and Church leaders. He would bring up issues of polygamy. He criticized and repeated rumors about the Church’s founder and first prophet, Joseph Smith. He talked about some alleged accusations of the Prophet Joseph being some sort of money-digger—a person who took money from people by claiming that he could spiritually divine or locate where gold or other treasures had been hidden in the earth. He didn’t stop with Joseph either. He also gossiped about other early Church leaders. He would then complain about current Church issues, how old the recent prophets had been, and why the Church focused more on honoring leaders and temple work than they did on Jesus.

I began hating every time John left to go over there. We got in quite a few arguments and the tension in our marriage grew. Since, as Mormons, we had been taught that a contentious spirit was from Satan, I was sure he was behind all of this. I tried to convince John that we didn’t need his dad. I did not care how much money we were saving by having him draw our plans. I would rather take the extra money and hire someone else to draw our house plans than have John feel obligated to listen to his father’s rubbish simply because he was doing us this favor. I told John that everything his dad brought up was typical anti-Mormon garbage. I said that if his dad would put as much time into studying and applying the teachings of the Church to his own life as he did in finding ways to criticize it, his testimony might actually grow. Maybe then he would stop worrying about all that negative nonsense that he seemed to take some sort of sick pleasure in pointing out.

As angry as I was at his dad, I was more frustrated with John for allowing him to carry on about it. We both knew that his dad was not as devoted to living by the precepts of the Gospel as we were. I felt that John should know better than to listen to him, even though he thought he was being respectful in doing so. Our arguments increased as exponentially as my contempt for his father and the things he alleged about the Church. If he did not want to live it, fine; but why couldn’t he just leave us alone and let us be happy in our worship and obedience?

I was scared. I knew that the things he kept bringing up were the kinds of things that could lead to apostasy, which could mean losing everything. We could lose our eternal family and all the blessings promised to faithful, obedient members of the Church, so my protective instincts were on high alert. The Church warns and counsels its members not to question the Church leaders. I would say to John, "So maybe Joseph and Brigham were not perfect, but they were the ones with the personalities Heavenly Father chose and needed at that time to bring forth the restoration of His true gospel and the priesthood. Who are we to judge the men that our Heavenly Father preordained to be our Church prophets and leaders?!"

Whenever we would argue about those awful father/son conversations, John would always reassure me that he was not having any doubts and that his testimony was still as strong as ever. Just because his dad would bring up those outlandish teachings, practices, or history, it didn’t change anything. He still knew that the Church was true and did not question in any way the temple covenants, which we believed made us an eternal family. He said that there was nothing to worry about. I did not see it that way. Everything that I held most precious depended on our testimonies and our faithfulness to the Church and to the covenants we made in the temple. I saw those discussions as a threat to all that I treasured most, but John continued to stay true to his testimony and belief in the Church. In fact, it was his confidence in the truthfulness of the restored gospel that led to my husband’s I’ll show him attitude that really set everything into motion.

John hated the tension and arguments this was causing between us as much as I did. He was also sick of having to listen to his dad’s stories; so on that fateful Saturday night in August, 1998, John