I was once married to a bona fide, white-shirt-and-tie, bike-riding, garment-wearing Mormon missionary. And not just any Mormon missionary—a master soul-winner for this Christianesque cult.
Of course, I had no idea when I met him that he was even a Mormon. All I knew was he had just returned from a two-year mission to Europe, he never said an unkind word about anybody and he had a sweet heart.
He seemed righteous enough—more righteous than me. But I wasn’t born-again and I didn’t know the difference between a false religion that incorporated Jesus into the mix and true Christianity. My Southern Baptist grandfather tried to warn me, but I just couldn’t see the harm in a Jesus-centered religion. So I ended up marrying a Mormon.
I learned plenty about the secret rituals that Mormons practice, but that’s not what I want to share with you. You can read about bizarre Mormon beliefs in many places...
