At 13 years old I remember sitting in Sunday School with the girls and boys my age. I was in Glendale, Arizona, and my great aunt and uncle had brought me and my brother to sacrament meeting. The teacher asked us to define the priesthood, and my poor brother and I—with our Southern Baptist background—couldn’t actively participate. We heard words like “authority,” “blessing,” “prophet,” and we were hopelessly lost.
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