So I'm pumping gas yesterday when two clean-cut young men in white shirts pull up at the pump behind me. Very white, very polite. I immediately knew this couldn't be good. While Robin is pumping the gas, Batman comes up to me, calls me 'sir' and asks if I've heard about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Being a good Southern Baptist, I do what comes naturally: I lie through my teeth...
"Yes," I tell him. "Some people came by my house a few weeks ago."
"What did you think?" he asked, still very politely.
"Well, I'm a Southern Baptist," I reply, in the hope that our reputation for closed-minded intolerance will send him off to get the squeegee.
"All right. Well if we can ever be of any help, please let us know," he says.
See, here's the thing. I like Mormons. I really do. I like the family-values, I like the wholesome squarishness. Now, I realize that saying "I Like Mormons" is about as stupid as saying "I Like Black People." There are all sorts of Mormons. Some of them are probably jerks. Some of them probably even lie to missionaries. That being said, every Mormon I have ever met seemed to be a genuinely good person. If I had to choose between having Mormon neighbors and Baptist neighbors, knowing nothing else about them, I would probably choose the Mormons. That says some very good things about Mormons or, at least, the image Mormons present to the world. What does it say about my fellow Baptists, though? What does it say about me?