My first experience with anti-Mormons came when I got my first AOL account in sixth grade. Instant messaging and crises of faith: two things I have definitely outgrown.

I stumbled into an LDS chat room and apparently one of the lurking anti-Mormons could sense my naiveté and IMed me. I can't even tell you how many hours I spent arguing with him. Most of the time, I had no idea what he was talking about, but I got good at asking my dad cryptic questions without letting on that I was cyber-battling with an anti-Mormon. ("Hey dad, just out of curiosity, do we believe we are all going to be Gods over our own planets?")

As you can probably guess, I never got anywhere with my cyber-friend. For every "evidence" of the church's truth I presented, he had three rebuttals. Eventually I gave up on him, got a testimony and internalized the "no Bible-bashing" principle taught to every young man preparing for a mission. I decided then that point-for-point debates were not the way to thwart anti-Mormons.

I stuck with this attitude for most of my mission. Serving in the Bible Belt provided me with plenty of opportunity to exercise restraint and walk away from an argument.

For example, before I was assigned to be an assistant to the mission president, a man who we will call "Max" somehow obtained the number of the cell phone the APs used.  Max was basically an anti-Mormon for hire; a "rent-a-skeptic," if you will. Anti-Mormon organizations hired him fulltime to do everything he could to slow the progress of the church and cause members to question their faith.

His occasional phone calls were notorious throughout the mission, and his accusations and insults often became fodder for zone conference talks. Taking one of Max's phone calls served as a sort of unofficial initiation for new APs -- a fact I discovered after a couple weeks in the office.

I remember one afternoon sitting at my desk and being handed a cell phone as soon as my companion recognized Max's British accent.



"Hello, this is Elder Coppins," I answered.

"Coppins, did you say it was?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"My name is Max, what is your first name?"

I had heard of this trick of his. A missionary had once innocently revealed his first name and Max went on to mockingly refer to him that way for the rest of the conversation, refusing to call him "Elder," since of course "Mormon missionaries do not fit any of the Biblically-outlined requirements for Eldership."

"I go by 'Elder' for the two years I serve as a missionary for my church," I responded, calmly.

"Alright, if you won't give me your first name, could I just call you 'Coppins?'" he asked.

"Elder Coppins works just fine," I replied.

"How about Missionary Coppins?"

"How about Elder Coppins?" I again responded.

"Could I just call you 'missionary?'"  

This was getting ridiculous. Still, I maintained civility and rejected every temptation to turn hostile. He challenged me to find Biblical support for our "doctrine" that Jesus and Satan are brothers, he inquired as to how old Joseph Smith's youngest wife was, and he ask me why the Book of Mormon had horses in it took place pre-Columbus.

At first, I tried to honestly answer his questions, but when I realized he wouldn't even listen to my responses, I did what I thought was the only thing I could do.

I bore my testimony and hung up.

A few months later, toward the end of my mission, I got one more shot at confronting anti-Mormonism head on. Our mission had spent months preparing for the arrival of Gladys Knight and her Saints Unified Choir. So, when a protester showed up and started handing out pamphlets just as hundreds of potential investigators were arriving, I was obviously a little tense.

Our first approach was to guide the guests off the protester's path and escort them to the door. But once the line got so long that it wrapped around the stake center, the protester took advantage of his captive audience and started shouting at the top of his lungs.

I noticed confused looks on several of the guests' faces, and some of the members looked like they might get aggressive with the man -- which, of course, would have been exactly what he wanted. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't debate with him, and I couldn't just hang up on him. Then I had an idea.

I rounded up all the missionaries I could find -- about 20 -- and lined them up in between the guests and the protester.

Then we started singing.

We sang "I Am a Child of God," "Love One Another" and then we launched into a rousing chorus of "Called to Serve." By then, all the members in line had joined us, and although the protester tried to shout even louder, no one could hear him. The hymns were too loud.

After a few minutes, he finally gave up and left. As he walked away, we sang, "God Be with You Till We Meet Again." Maybe not the most mature move, but give us a break: we were excited about the victory.

After a lifetime of dealing with anti-Mormon assailants, I've realized that the best way to face attacks on your faith is not incessant debate, nor is it complete avoidance of disagreement.

If you want to defend the church and your testimony, flood the Internet with accurate information about the church, make sure your friends know the truth about your beliefs, and engage in missionary work.

You may not silence the cynics, but you can certainly sing louder than them.