“…I’d like to bear my testimony that I know these things are true, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen,” the speaker finished. 

I sat with my young legs dangling far above the ground, slanted on my uncomfortable seat. My gaze was fixed on the speaker behind the LDS church’s podium. I felt awe at their bravery to speak and though no one clapped, (after all this was sacred space and that would be irreverent) I saw the admiration in others’ eyes. I’d later hear some compliments and words of appreciation given after the hour to those who shared their truths during the testimony meeting. 

My chest felt big as my heart thumped in it. I was still young, but I knew if I wanted to bear my testimony I could get help and receive the same kind of positive feedback others got. More importantly though, it was the right thing to do. After all, that’s why people responded positively. We were supposed to share our truths. 

I loved my Savior, didn’t I? He was everything good and wonderful, and He loved me. I should let people know how I felt. 

My throat felt tight and suddenly my stomach fluttered with horrible nerves as the realization that I should go up washed over me. This meant I should go, didn’t it? I’d been taught that we could feel impressed to do so. I knew it was the right thing to do. I was just scared. These powerful emotions must mean that God approved and wanted me to be brave. 

I looked at my dad, who I was with this Sunday. He was social and not afraid of speaking. He’d be happy to go up with me. 

I still felt so small and unsure. 

But, I needed to be brave. 

I scooted closer to him and had to talk over one of my sisters who sat in between us. “Dad?” I whispered. 

He kept looking forward, but leaned towards me to hear better. “Hmmm?” 

“I want to go up.” 

This got his attention. “Oh, okay. Let’s let this person finish and I’ll go with you,” he said. 

So, we waited. 

It felt like forever. My heart kept beating fast. My hands felt sweaty as I wrung them together. Did I know what I was going to say? Why was it so hard to hold onto thoughts now that I knew I was going to go up? But…that was okay? I should feel inspired about what to say once I was up there, right? God could speak through me. God could help me know what to say. God could give me strength. I just needed to “go and do”. 

The speaker started to wrap up. 

My dad sat forward. So did I. He held out his hand. I took it. 

The speaker finished. 

As they started to leave, we slipped off our bench, into the aisle, and headed to the stand. 

It felt like everyone was watching. But, that was okay, right? They were watching me do a brave, good thing. 

I took a deep breath. I still felt like butterflies flew around in my stomach and like I could blow away if a strong breeze came, but this moment wouldn’t last forever. 

The bishop pushed a button and the stand lowered. My dad grabbed a stool. I climbed up on it and looked out at all the people. They were staring, expectant. 

“I would like to bear my testimony.” My voice echoed back at me from the microphone and sounded louder than I expected. This made me lose my train of thought for a moment. I looked at my dad. He leaned down.

“That I know this church is true,” he whispered. 

I repeated after him. After all, I did believe that. He was just helping me remember my words. 

“That Jesus is my Savior.”

I repeated that too and continued to repeat.

“That I love the prophet.”

“I love my family.”

“I know the Book of Mormon is true.”

This wasn’t so bad. Look at how all the parents were looking at me. They were proud too. Even some kids were watching. I was being a good example. 

“In the name of Jesus Christ, amen,” I finished. 

“Good job,” my dad whispered. He helped me to one of the seats people could wait in and then went back to the stand himself. He shared his own testimony. We walked back together and I felt great. I had done it! I’d done what I was supposed to and felt light and good. I sat back down and clasped the edge of my seat as I leaned forward. 

“Good job,” my sister whispered. 

“Yeah, that was brave,” my other one agreed. 

“Thanks,” I said back.

The meeting continued. One of my other sisters was inspired by me and went up. Another couple of kids also braved bearing their testimonies. 

Later in primary, our teachers reiterated how bearing a testimony was important. It helped us to know what was true and allowed us to share that with others. However, we shouldn’t just share our testimonies of the truth at church, we also needed to be missionaries and share with our friends. We shouldn’t hide something so beautiful from the world. We had something special to share, so we should share it.

Yes! I found myself thinking. After all, I’d felt good sharing before and I’d already had many people tell me that they appreciated my testimony. Just imagine the good I could do by bringing this into others’ lives who didn’t yet know this! 

That wasn’t the last time I bore my testimony or got lessons about sharing truth. The more I did it and the more I heard, the more important it felt. As I learned more about the beautiful gospel, I thought about how this was something others should have. I needed to share that light. So, when friends asked, I shared. I didn’t hide that I was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I lived my values and hoped to be an example of why that was good to do. I couldn’t feel good about pushing my knowledge onto others though, so I tried to be careful how I shared so they could have a positive experience with it. 

This worked for a long time. I got a lot of positive feedback. I felt so good. 

I grew up, went to college, got married, and life continued. It was still great. I met so many good people. But, I kept mostly meeting people just in the Church. After all, I lived in places with a lot of members, and then when I didn’t, they were still the easiest people to meet. We shared with each other our truths. I felt a bit guilty that I couldn’t be a better example to others since I didn’t really have any close non-member friends that I interacted with regularly. I had kept a few childhood friends, but they were so far away. 

Whatever the case, the truth was still important to share. So, I found some other ways to share it. I felt strongly one day about what I believed and wrote in my journal my testimony. My husband and I had been struggling a little with how we felt concerning some aspects of the church and gospel, but I came out of that feeling stronger than ever that it was true and my life was blessed because of it. The same burning desire to be brave and share filled me, so I posted my testimony on social media. Most of my friends were members. Everyone was nice who reacted. 

But then one day, my world began to shatter. The questions and my confusion grew too much. My understanding of reality began to crack and crumble. Suddenly I gained new information. I realized things had been hidden from me. I started to see the world differently. The change was hard— devastating. I lost many beliefs that I’d learned to cherish and value. I grieved. I ached. I cried. 

But it got better. 

I got stronger.

The world started to make sense again. I started to realize it wasn’t all bad. Not all the new truths I’d discovered were easy to digest at first, but time helped and I also realized I was learning good things I’d never been able to consider before. I started to feel a mixture of emotions. I still had truths and ideas of what new truths could be. I now realized not everything I’d thought to be true was likely to be. And then my upbringing came to the forefront of my mind— it was important to share truth. 

So I opened my mouth. I was brave. The butterflies stirred in my stomach, but that was okay, right? It meant I was being brave— I was doing what was right. 

But, the reactions weren’t the same. 

Some didn’t even listen. 

Some responded negatively. Other’s told me not to speak. Many didn’t like my new discoveries. Instead of feeling support and love, I felt pressure to be quiet, silenced, and scared. I craved to be understood, but who would listen now? What about the new important things I learned? Even if they weren’t fun to hear? Even if they didn’t feel uplifting to all? What about my voice? Wasn’t my truth still important to share? 

Yes. 

Yes, it was. My voice still mattered. My understanding and what I’d learned was still important. 

It was hard not having the support I once had, but didn’t that mean I was actually being braver in sharing? Didn’t that mean that perhaps it was even more important to share because others might not be as brave to since they too could feel silenced and scared? 

So, I stood my ground. 

There were some who reached out to me, who felt similarly and did care, who didn’t want to silence me. This gave me some strength. 

Truth was important to share, so I would still be brave.