It was September 2018 when Jon and I came to a big decision…
Things had gotten pretty bad between us, and we were both done. It was a calm decision, not one that came from arguing, but from a feeling of complete defeat.
When we married—although we were both Christians—we were different religions. Jon was baptist, but enjoyed more of the non-denominational churches. You know, the ones with drums and guitars, where patrons show up in tank tops and flip flops, and take part in loud praise and worship services.
As a Latter-Day Saint (aka Mormon, though we don’t call ourselves that anymore), I enjoyed the more traditional worship, with reverent services and everyone wearing their Sunday best.
We both had reservations about marrying someone of a different faith, but ultimately, he really liked my butt, and I was totally digging his big arms, so we brushed off our hesitations, and went all in.
Ignorance is bliss after all….at least…until it’s not.
We came up with a brilliant plan! We would just attend each other’s churches together, and when we had kids, they would learn about both faiths and choose for themselves if they wanted to be baptized in either.
Every Sunday during our SUPER short courtship (watch for another post about that!), we joined one another for worship.
I felt like I was at a party when I went to Jon’s church, and he felt like he was going to a funeral while attending mine.
Not long after we got married though, Jon stopped going to my church. He misunderstood a reference made from the pulpit, and even though I tried to explain what the speaker was actually saying, he was damned and determined that he would never attend my church again.
This broke my heart, but I figured I could at least keep going with him. However, as time passed, Jon struggled to find a church he loved. He tried tons, but nothing felt quite right. So, he eventually stopped making church a priority at all.
For years, I showed up to church with kids in tow, and without a husband by my side. It was incredibly stressful, but more than that, it was incredibly lonely.
Time and time again I would ask him to go with me, or to talk with the missionaries, or to read The Book Of Mormon. Not to convince him to switch faiths, but so he could better understand what I believed, and why I believed it.
I told Jon the thing that hurt most in our marriage was the fact that my faith, which was the biggest part of who I was, wasn’t something he had a chance to truly see.
He never saw me in action, never saw me in the place I felt most like the person I was meant to be. He wasn’t there when I spoke in church, or sang in the choir, or taught a lesson, or bore my testimony. He wasn’t around for all the service projects I threw myself into, or for many of the activities I attended. He didn’t get to see me the way others saw me.
The worst part though, was that he wasn’t seeing the kids do all these things either. He was missing out on watching them grow in their faith, and they were missing out watching him grow in his.
At the end of the day, because he wasn’t there to witness this huge part of our lives, I felt there was no way he could ever really know who we were.
I admit, at the time, I thought he was just being a huge turd. I thought he hated being around us—that we were just a burden on him. I complained to and about him, I nagged, I tried guilt tripping and bargaining and bossing, but all it did was drive a wedge further between us. I kept trying to beat him into submission by vilifying him, all the while not realizing that he wasn’t really a villain, he was a wounded victim that didn’t even know he was hurting. As my old friend, Gary Bell, used to tell me, “Hurt people hurt other people.”
You see, for years, Jon had silently struggled with an inner turmoil that left him feeling lost and purposeless.
About the fifth year of our marriage, he took a job contracting with the military in Afghanistan.
For as long as he could remember (and unbeknownst to me), he believed he was going to die before he turned thirty. He figured, if he wasn’t going to be around, he might as well make it as easy as possible for us to move on without him.
He wanted to make sure the kids and I were well taken care of in the event of his death. So he signed up for a six-figure career in an active warzone. For almost two years, he lived in dangerous conditions, traveled with the army to and from bases in armored Humvees, and had to get decked out in protective gear. He experienced things that, to this day, he doesn’t share with me.
And to his surprise, he lived.
After returning from Afghanistan unharmed, he was completely lost. He didn’t understand why he was still alive—didn’t know what his purpose was—and so, he became withdrawn and unmotivated. That, coupled with the terrible things he experienced overseas, contributed to undiagnosed PTSD, but neither of us recognized it at the time.
For the next six years, he became more withdrawn, more angry. I became bitter and hard to live with. And together, we grew very, VERY far apart.
The day after we made the decision to split, Jon woke up and audibly heard a voice say, “WHAT…ARE YOU…DOING?”
He knew it was God…knew he needed to do what he could to save our marriage. So he went up to a nearby mountain with his gun and his bible, and did what he could to hear Heavenly Father’s instruction.
He spent time praying, sitting quietly in his truck, and reading through the scriptures. He was led to multiple verses, all regarding marriage or something pertaining to our situation.
One that really stood out to him was Matthew 19:8 which says, “He saith unto them, Moses because of the hardness of your hearts suffered you to put away your wives: but from the beginning it was not so.”
Learning that divorce was only allowed because of the hardness of man’s hearts struck a chord with Jon. He realized two things from this verse and the others he read that day.
First, he realized divorce didn’t have to be, nor should it be, an option for us.
Second, he realized that if there weren’t a prophet to receive revelation (like how Moses received revelation), then we’d be left to figure it all out ourselves. And if God loves His children, and He’s the same yesterday, today, and forever, that would mean He would continue to do what he’s always done…He would continue to give revelation to His prophets for the world.
Later that night, Jon told me parts of what happened earlier that day. With more sincerity than I’d seen in over a decade, he asked that I postpone the divorce temporarily in order for him to figure out what God’s purpose was for him. I agreed, but told him I wouldn’t wait forever.
If I’m honest, I didn’t have any hope that he and I would work things out, but I did have hope that he and God would. I knew divorce would be much easier on all of us if we were both trying to keep God at the center of our lives.
Weeks passed, and I had no idea what Jon was doing to find his purpose. I didn’t know he was reading the scriptures, or that he was drawn to Kings Ahab, Solomon and David in the old testament. I didn’t know he was battling with his own faith, or that his heart was being pricked to consider something he never had before, and I didn’t know he had turned to my brother, Zach, to help him figure it out.
Jon and Zach had always gotten along well. They respected each other. They spoke the same language. And because Zach was more of a convert to our church than a lifelong believer, it made him the perfect person to understand where Jon was coming from.
Jon opened up and shared the thoughts and feelings he was having with Zach—thoughts about my church and wanting to find out for himself what was true. My brother was patient with him. He explained everything with logic, knowledge and love. But Jon still struggled to understand how anyone could believe the Book of Mormon was legit—that it was actually scripture.
Many people (myself included) had encouraged Jon to read it before forming an opinion, but that was the LAST thing he wanted to do. In fact, he’d heard the same advice so many times over the years, he swore he was going to punch the next person that suggested it in their face.
Finally, after multiple conversations, he asked Zach what led him to believe the Book of Mormon was true.
Zach explained first what the Book of Mormon is—a record of spiritual experiences, a history of a family who traveled from Jerusalem to America, and another testament of Christ. He then shared evidence that supports the Book of Mormon, discussed comparisons and traditions found in both it and the bible, talked about temple symbols and rituals found in the old testament that are still in our church today, etc…but then Zach said the one thing Jon didn’t want to hear again.
“If you really want to know for yourself, man, you’ve just gotta read it. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Around this same time, Jon had also begun to confide in our neighbor, Bob Miller.
One night, Bob shared some spiritual experiences of his own, including one in particular from before he joined my church.
He was invited to attend a General Conference, and while he was there, he physically felt the Holy Ghost testify that a prophet of God was in the room. Bob then encouraged Jon to attend the next General Conference, and offered to give Jon a blessing.
As Bob placed his hands on Jon’s head, the room filled with a sacred heaviness. The Spirit was incredibly strong. Bob mentioned how God was aware of my husband, and then, he said something only Jon and I knew.
“Jon,” he said as his voice cracked with emotion. “Our Heavenly Father has seen you. He was there with you while you were sitting in your truck, and heard your prayers in those quiet moments.”
By the time Bob finished his blessing, we were all in tears.
I asked Jon if he’d be interested in going to Conference to see what it was like, and he said yes. We attended the Saturday morning session in October 2018, and literally EVERY SINGLE SPEAKER except for one spoke about things pertaining to Jon directly.
They referenced Kings Ahab, Solomon, and David, they spoke to those investigating the church, they spoke about gaining knowledge of the Book of Mormon and becoming a part of God’s gospel.
After Conference, and without my knowing, he started reading the Book of Mormon. He barely got through 1st Nephi when he did something I never thought he would.
My phone rang as I was leaving the gym one morning.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked Jon.
“Can you send me the missionaries’ number?”
I looked at the phone, confused and a little apprehensive. “Why?”
He hesitated a moment, then sighed, “I need to set up those talk thingies.”
I was stunned, silent, and even more confused. “Wh…why?”
“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I uh…I’ve been reading the Book of Mormon…and I know it’s true.”
He invited the missionaries, Elders Brent Bowen and Marshall Butler, over and they ended up being perfectly paired for Jon.
After just two discussions, Jon wanted to be baptized. He still had more discussions to finish, but he was adamant that he needed to be baptized as soon as possible. So they set the date for Dec 8th.
Naturally, he asked Zach to be the one that would baptize him, and Zach happily accepted.
Jon’s baptism was anything but “run-of-the-mill.” For starters, the programs we printed were pretty dang funny.
I’m also fairly certain the entire ward showed up to witness it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if people were placing bets on whether he’d actually follow through or not! I even had friends from Florida (who just happened to be in Utah at the time) who were able to come.
But the cherry on top was what happened to Zach and Jon.
For three days before the baptism, Zach fasted. He wanted so desperately to show God he was taking his responsibility seriously. But when it came time to go into the font, Zach turned to Jon and admitted he was nervous he wouldn’t have he strength to lift Jon from the water. He was weak from fasting, and Jon, being a big guy, wouldn’t be easy to lift up on a regular day, let alone day three of no food!
To make matters worse, when they went into the baptismal font, they realized the water didn’t come to their waist like it was supposed to, it barely covered their knees!
You should’ve seen the look they gave each other! They both knew this was going to require some serious strength.
Zach raised his arm to the square, “Jonathan James Coakley, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
He lowered Jon into the water and lifted him back up with no problem. Unfortunately, Jon wasn’t fully submerged, so they had to redo it.
Once more, they went down and came back up with no struggle.
When they were done, Zach looked at Jon, amazed at how easy it was to bring him up from the water.
“It was like lifting a baby,” my brother grinned, dimples proudly displayed in his cheeks.
Exactly one month later, on January 8th, we got the call that Zach was killed in a car accident on the way to work.
The night before his funeral, the men preparing his body were having difficulty lifting him into the casket, so they asked for Jon’s help.
Jon went into the room, scooped Zach up in his arms, and lifted him—just like a baby—into his casket.
Jon said, in a way, it felt like he was repaying the favor to Zach.
One of my brother’s last selfless acts on earth was helping my husband find his purpose. He was able to love Jon when I couldn’t, and ultimately, that love Zach shared—and the way he treated Jon like the man he could be, not just the man he was—played a role in saving our marriage, and turning it into something I never imagined was possible.
Eleven months after his death, I was sealed in the temple to Zach, my parents, my kiddos, and Jon.
It’s amazing how a near divorce, a do-over dunking, and a brother’s love all worked together to change generations for the better.
And while I’m eternally grateful to Zach for how much he loved Jon during those times, I’ve come to realize something powerful.
It was Jon who did the work.
It was Jon who loved me enough to fight for our marriage, our family, and our future.
It was Jon who let God change his heart, and because he stepped up and grabbed hold of his purpose, my heart changed.
If you’re struggling with relationships in your life, I encourage you to work on finding and loving God first. You can’t change others, but He can. It may take time, it may not be all sunshine and rainbows along the way, but I promise, He’ll send who you need to heal the hurt and guide you to your purpose.
If you’d like to hear more of Jon’s story, watch the video below from our podcast, Latter Day Lights.
