Last Sunday my nephew, Joe, became a Baptist minister.

I attended the Pastoral Ordination Service at First Baptist in Brigham City. My friend, Mac Edwards, got his preaching papers the same day, as did a young man named Shane Smith. It was a first for Brigham — three ministers being ordained on the same day. And the local Baptists filled the hall to honor them.

I was the Mormon at their barbecue.

I never look at Joe without seeing my own son, Ian. The two were inseparable as kids. The family has photo albums of the two of them on skateboards, learning karate and wearing Halloween costumes.

Joe's granddad was O.D. Lund, a legendary LDS stake president and patriarch in the region. His mom and dad are devout Mormons.

Joe has chosen another route.

The ceremony was very sweet. The new pastors received all kinds of gifts from the Baptist faithful — from new books to new blankets. Visiting ministers prayed with them. Then the three spoke in stirring, earnest tones about their callings. Mac, a man with greasepaint in his veins, was fun, energetic and sincere. Shane was direct and doctrinal. And Joe — a musician at heart — spoke only a few heartfelt sentences about the way God nudges people along, how he puts others in their pathway to help. And God was not above giving folks a good pushing when they needed it.

It took some divine pushing to tug Joe to where he was.

He was slight as a boy. And he worked hard to compensate — dressing tough, getting tattoos, changing his name from "Jody" to "Joe." He joined the Army and became an information corpsman in Bosnia during the Clinton era. Later, he and his wife, Kim, were sent to Texas, where he finished his hitch.

In Texas, Joe found himself among the Baptists.

And in Texas, among the Baptists, Joe found himself.

At his ordination I sang along with "Amazing Grace" as best I could, stood when asked to stand, sat when asked to sit. Along the way I felt a dozen emotions.

But what interested me most was what I didn't feel.

I didn't feel Joe had chosen badly. I felt he had honestly followed his heart. And choosing to following your heart is always a good choice.

Some might see Joe as a prodigal son who, on his way back home, went to the wrong address.

I didn't feel that, either.

I felt that a kid who once was floundering was now more grounded.

I hope Joe realizes — like my friend, Mac — if LDS people seem disappointed and concerned, it's because of their own fervent hearts. Caring is not a sin. Apathy is the great sin. Caring is a good place to begin looking for common ground.

And I want Joe to know I remember him as a boy. Even under that fierce Halloween mask, he was vulnerable and sensitive. I congratulate him for turning those tender-hearted traits into strengths. I'm proud he's turned his life around.

Joe, of course, would say Jesus is the one who put the spin on things. He found his way because "there's wonder-working power in the blood."

Watching him talk to his church and hearing their hearty "amens" at his remarks, who was I to say otherwise?

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E-mail: jerjohn@desnews.com