Tuesday, November 19, 2013


I’m trying to be brave, but honestly I’m terrified. Okay, here goes: I am—

No, I’m not going to start with that. That’s not what comes first. This is what comes first: I am a Mormon. I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I know that my Redeemer lives and that by his grace we are made whole. I believe that Christ restored his true church to the earth nearly two hundred years ago, through the prophet Joseph Smith. I believe that through him the keys of the priesthood were returned to humankind, and that priesthood power is God’s power. Anything else is counterfeit. I sustain Thomas S. Monson, the living prophet, and I know that “The Priesthood: A Proclamation to the World” is God’s word. I have a testimony that “priesthood power is central to the Creator’s plan for the eternal destiny of His children.”

And I wish that were all. I wish with all my heart I could stop there. But there’s more. The other part is incredibly hard for me to say, and in fact I’ve never said it before—not publicly, not like this—but just as I know that the Lord lives, I know this is what he wants me to do. I’ve been toying with the idea for a few months now, but the confirmation came today while I was walking across BYU campus, listening to my iPod (okay, I admit, I’m a little antisocial). The Sara Bareilles song “Brave” came on, and when she sang these words, it was as the voice of God speaking directly to me:

And since your history of silence
Won’t do you any good,
Did you think it would?
Let your words be anything but empty
Why don’t you tell them the truth?

I stopped walking, right there between the library and the JFSB. I think a girl bumped into me because I’d stopped so suddenly. But I wasn’t paying attention to anyone around me. All I could do was listen to Sara Bareilles telling me to say what I wanna say, to let the words fall out, to be brave. I need to talk about this because, as much as it feels like I’m the only person in the world who feels this way, I know I can’t be. And if others feel as alone as I do, then maybe Heavenly Father can speak to them through me, to let them know he loves them, just as he’s let me know that. 

Okay, now I’m ready to say it. This is the other part, the part I couldn’t say before: I’m a mutant. Yes, you read that right. I’m a mutant, and I’m also a Mormon. Now, I know that’s not the terminology I’m supposed to use. Believe me, I know. I’ve been seeing counselors at LDS Family Services for the past seven years (apart from the two I was on a mission) in order to overcome my “unnatural power proclivity” or “UPP.” But I hate those terms. That’s not who I am. I am a mutant. For whatever reason, I have powers that humans are not meant to have. I didn’t do anything to get these powers; I just have them. Does that mean I’m going to run out and join the X-Men? No, of course not. To do so would be to betray the other part of me, the first part. First, I am a Mormon. Like Nephi, I was born of goodly parents, and I know that any power that does not come from God, that is not priesthood power, comes from the Adversary. It’s hard sometimes, knowing I have this power at my fingertips and choosing not to use it, but I know that as I continue to put my faith in God, he will give me the strength I need to resist temptation. With God, all things are possible. 

I know this isn’t a popular position. I’m as afraid of backlash from my fellow mutants as I am from my fellow Mormons. To my brothers and sisters in the mutant community, let me assure you that I support your right to exercise your mutant powers according to your beliefs, so long as you aren’t hurting anyone. But as for me, I will follow the Lord’s path. The only power I need is priesthood power.


  1. .

    Find comfort in those who have explored your situation with fiction. May I recommend Dan Wells's "The Mountain of the Lord"?

  2. Thank you, sir. I'll check that out.