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Giraffe Tracks

The Inspiring True Story of An LDS Missionary

in Post-Apartheid South Africa

by Chas Hathaway

Willowrise Press

Published by Willowrise Press, which is a subsidiary of Willowrise, LLC.

Copyright © 2010 by Chas Hathaway / Willowrise, LLCAll rights reserved.

While the author has attempted to keep this work true to the teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ, it is not an ofcial publication of Te Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Te views, thoughts, and opinions expressed herein belong to the author, and do not necessarily represent the Church's stand or position on the subject.

To the missionaries who introduced meto the gospel of Jesus Christ.I love you Mom and Dad!

Table of ContentsPreface...................................................................................... 3

Germiston.................................................................................5

Light..................................................................................... 7

Red Dust............................................................................. 11

Godlike Sorrow...................................................................19

Green.................................................................................. 29

The Easiest Question..........................................................35

Large Snake on Duty.......................................................... 39

The Blessing....................................................................... 47

Blind Disobedience............................................................ 51

I Have No Theory............................................................... 57

The Upstairs Neighbor ...................................................... 63

Mission Moms.................................................................... 67

Drunken Dreadlocks...........................................................71

The Adventure of the Incomplete Journey..........................75

The Jughead American Dream Burger...............................83

The Weak and the Simple....................................................87

Concussion......................................................................... 93

Christmas........................................................................... 97

Botswana.............................................................................. 103

Lobatse............................................................................. 105

Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes....................................109

Teaching by Candlelight................................................... 113

The Greatest Listener.......................................................117

Of Milk, Monkeys, and Mermaids....................................121

Bad Haircut...................................................................... 127

All in a Day's Work...........................................................131

Eat Dirt but Don't Date.................................................... 141

Sleep-talking in Tongues..................................................147

He Shall Not Teach...........................................................151

Doctor...............................................................................157

Vereeniging...........................................................................163

Called Back...................................................................... 165

The Bicycles......................................................................171

Permission........................................................................179

Snippets............................................................................ 185

Point of Conversion..........................................................191

My African Dream............................................................195

Seshego................................................................................. 199

The Parable of the Ice-cream Man...................................201

Giraffe Tracks...................................................................207

Of Music and Magodu......................................................213

Building the Kingdom.......................................................217

The Power of Pure Testimony...........................................221

Apples and Oranges......................................................... 225

Frustrated.........................................................................235

Khutsong.............................................................................. 241

Gazelem............................................................................243

Chapter 43........................................................................249

The Ancestor.....................................................................249

Let No Man Despise Thy Youth........................................ 253

The Magic Words..............................................................263

Chicken Farm...................................................................271

Odds and Ends................................................................. 275

Seek Ye First..................................................................... 279

Mugged.............................................................................283

Homecoming.....................................................................289

Pronunciation Guide........................................................... 299

Glossary................................................................................303

Girafe Tracks

Preface

I reached in my pocket and pulled out a couple of shiny two-rand coins, the worth of about one American dollar, handing them to the man behind the window of the closet-sized shop. Te old man smiled, and I could see he was missing a few teeth. He handed me an ice cream bar, and I thanked him, saying, “Kalibogile, ndate!” My companion and I continued down the street while unwrapping our ice cream bars.

“Where should we go now?” Elder Mendenhall asked. “Let's head down to Tulo's place,” I said, “see how he's

doing.” It was about a mile-long walk to Tulo's house. As we walked,

the breeze carried dust across the unpaved street, and we shielded our ice cream from the sand. People talking around their makeshift tin-houses stopped their conversations to watch the strange foreigners pass. Te feeling of being constantly watched could be unnerving.

Reaching a street corner, some guys across the street began calling out to us. “Hey Magua! Give us some ice cream!”

It was at that moment that I realized how conspicuous we had made ourselves. We were the only two foreigners within ten miles, walking through the poorest part of town in nice shirts and ties, eating ice-cream. I had been on my mission for two years now, and was going home in a week and a half. You'd think I would have learned by now. Without thinking, we had made ourselves targets. Normally we drove a car, but today the other missionaries in our district had borrowed it, and they had dropped us of in the

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township. It would be late evening before we would see them again.We walked on, trying to ignore the men's taunts. But it

became obvious that they were not ready to just let us walk away. “Give us some ice cream!” “No! Get your own ice cream!” Elder Mendenhall shouted

back. By now, four of the men were making their way toward us. I

could smell the stench of home-brewed beer in the air. We quickened our pace. Tey matched it.

Tree of the men followed close behind us, and one walked out in front of us. I could see that he was holding something, though I couldn't tell what. Ten he turned toward us and said, “Well then, give us all of your money.” He then pulled into view the longest knife I'd ever seen – a machete. Instinctively, we stopped and put our hands in the air just enough to allow the guys behind us to take the wallets from our pockets. Tey kept mine. With Elder Mendenhall's, they took out the money and threw the wallet to the ground.

After learning that we didn't have any cell phones or other valuables, the one with the machete said, “Now, my brothers, I want to be a Christian.”

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Part 1

Germiston

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Chapter 1

Light

Africa. I was going to Africa! It seemed to me a place as distant and foreign as any country on earth, and I could hardly believe I was going. My imagination of the place was vivid. Te more I thought of it, and considered my reason for going, the more it seemed that Africa was already becoming part of me. It was as though I had already begun to experience it, almost like a memory – the memory of places I’d never seen, and people I’d never met. Perhaps I had become so excited about the idea of going that my mind had turned the anticipation into a seeming reality of some long past experience; or maybe I was having a glimpse of a time in some future day when I would look back on my time spent in that remote part of the world, and refect on what a remarkable experience it really was.

Maybe my mind was simply fantasizing what I hoped my experience would be like. But whether fantasy, foreshadow, or just anticipation, I was headed for Africa, and I would stay for two years. I sat back in my seat. Te plane had been fying for nearly fve hours now. It was early morning, and other than the hum of the engine and a few snoring passengers, the cabin was quiet. Everyone except the stewardess and myself seemed to be asleep.

Blinds had been pulled down over the windows to protect the faces of the sleeping crowd from the subtle morning light. Interesting, I thought, how light can play such a big role in our lives. A

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simple concentration of light on the face of a person sleeping could send a subconscious message to his mind that the time has come for him to awake. Other than time, nothing plays a bigger role in telling the mind to rise from sleep than light.

How interesting, that darkness is so often associated with sleep. Just dimming the lights can lull our minds into rest. Perhaps this is why we instinctively close our eyes to go to sleep – to create darkness. In that darkness, we enter a comfortable, passive state by which we forfeit all the powers of our faculties and slip out of the life we know, leaving even the memory of it behind.

Te scripture 2 Nephi 28:20-21 came to mind, which says that the devil will “rage in the hearts of the children of men… and pacify, and lull them away… and leadeth them carefully down to hell.” And in an 2 Nephi 1:13, Lehi tells his wayward sons to “awake; awake from a deep sleep, yea, even from the sleep of hell, and shake of the awful chains by which ye are bound, which are the chains which bind the children of men, that they are carried away captive down to the eternal gulf of misery and endless wo.”

I sat up in my chair again and looked carefully around the cabin. Many of these people are in a deep sleep, and their minds are completely oblivious to the fact that they are the children of God. Tey live their lives like a dream – completely unaware of the reality that surrounds them, because they can't see it.

Perhaps it is now my call to touch their eyes with the light of the everlasting gospel. I've carried the light of my own testimony for many years now. But now I've now been called to use that light to awaken others, both to an awareness of their own situation, and to the glorious potential they have through the Savior’s Atonement. And what if I neglect to try to wake them? Well, then when their biological clock runs out in death, they will awaken and see life for what it is. What shame I would feel if upon their waking, they look and see that I'd been carrying light this whole time, and had knowingly passed over them, and not awakened them?

What a responsibility I have I thought. What an incredible

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responsibility. Te problem is, while they sleep, Satan is wrapping them in his chains, and the more he takes hold of them before they open their eyes, the harder it will be to arouse them, and for some, perhaps they will never wake up.

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Chapter 2

Red Dust

I looked at my watch. 3:00 a.m. Tis seemed a little odd, since there were already signs of light coming through the bottom crack of my window. Ten I remembered that my watch was still set on mountain standard time, and we had already crossed a number of time zones. Out of curiosity, I cracked open my window cover slightly. Te view was spectacular!

As a child, I had always assumed that sunrises were like rainbows – the closer you got to the colors, the more they would fade and disappear. If I still had any such belief, it was now shattered. Te sky was infamed in red and orange clouds. It was as if the plane was passing through clouds of fre. I was not in a position to see the sun itself, but the rays of its glory burned its magnifcence into the clouds around us. It was as if God was shouting to my eyes that this was the beginning of a glorious and beautiful day.

After a few more hours, the airplane began to descend, and I knew that we were almost to our destination. What would Johannesburg be like? I wondered. Will it be as dangerous and frightening as rumors claimed? At the MTC, many people had told us of the terrible crime and evil that Johannesburg was famous for. Te thought of fnding dead bodies on the streets and hearing distant gunshots in the night as one might hear distant dogs barking at home gave me plenty of anxiety, though our MTC

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cultural instructor assured us that these rumors were exaggerated.As the plane made its fnal descent into the airport, I

noticed that the sun was barely rising over the hills. Tis confused me, since I was certain that it had been at least four or fve hours since the sun had risen. But when the sun disappeared beyond the horizon I realized the sun was not rising at all; it was setting. I guess I would be experiencing jet-lag for a while.

We were instructed to meet our mission president at the airport, so after getting of the plane, we looked around for him.

One man asked me where we were from.Realizing that "Salt Lake City" might sound foreign to him,

I answered "Utah." "Where's Utah?" he said, looking puzzled."It's next to Colorado... and Nevada." I could tell by the look on his face that he hadn't heard of

either state. "It's on the western half of the United States." "Oh, you're from the states! By California?" "Yeah,” I said with a smile, “just two states over from

California."

One of the things that I had been encouraged to notice when I arrived was which direction the toilets spin. I had been told that in the southern hemisphere, they went opposite of the northern hemisphere toilets. So, frst chance I got, I went into the bathroom at the airport and fushed a toilet. I was very disappointed when the water went straight down - without spinning. I couldn't believe it! Soon I discovered that all South African toilets fush straight down. By the time I did come across a spinning toilet (well into my mission), I'd forgotten which direction they had spun at home.

President Bangerter arrived to pick us up after we'd been at the airport for about a half an hour. We didn't mind the wait. We had experienced nothing but layovers the whole trip.

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After arriving at the mission home, we ate a dinner of roast beef and mashed potatoes, followed by a wonderful evening of talking and listening to the stories from experienced elders and couple missionaries. As we talked, I felt a warm sense of unity – much like the unity felt at Christmas time, or when the whole family is gathered together sharing stories or playing a game.

President Bangerter was a very warm and gentle man. He introduced us to Sister Bangerter, who had been busily engaged in dinner preparations. She seemed as kind and sweet as both of my own grandmothers, which made me feel comfortable and safe. After the wonderful meal, I got ready for bed. From my room, I could hear gentle music playing in a far end of the house. I sat thinking about how remarkable it is to be so far from home, and yet still feel that sense of family belonging. Doubtless I would be sent out to my proselyting area soon, but for tonight, I was with my mission parents, and I knew they would care for me as a son.

My MTC companion, Elder Murdock, stood on the other side of the room, preparing to go to sleep. “Can you believe this?” he said, “We’re actually doing it. We’re out on our missions!”

“I know”, I replied, “it’s incredible, isn’t it?”

Before I’d gone to bed for the night, President Bangerter called me upstairs. “You’ve got a phone call.”

Who in South Africa would even know me, let alone call me? “Who is it?”

“Better come and fnd out!” When I picked up the line, I was excited to hear my cousin’s voice. “Well if it isn’t Elder Hathaway.”

“Kevan! …er, uh, Elder Timothy, how’s the mission?”We talked for about twenty minutes. I thought it was a great

opportunity to be serving in the same mission as one of my cousins.

While talking to him, I remembered that his mom had given me a couple of root beers to bring and share with him. I guess he

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was going through withdrawals for not having it for so long. But before mentioning it to him on the phone, I also remembered that the air-pressure on the airplane had apparently got the best of one of the cans. I remembered reaching in my bag and feeling a soaking wet Ziploc baggie with a soda pop can swimming in root beer. So much for our little root beer party. I still made sure to give him the survivor, but I knew it would probably be a little while before I would see him.

“We got some bunnies,” Kevan said.“What?” I said, realizing my mind had been wandering.“We got bunnies. Our fat is incredibly boring. We thought it

could use a little life to it, so we bought some bunnies!”Taken back by this incredibly random announcement, I said

“Tat’s hilarious! Where’d you get them?”“In the township. But hey, don’t tell Prez. I’m not sure he’d

be excited about his missionaries having pets.”Humored, I kept Elder Timothy’s bunny announcement

quiet.

Te next day we went with some of the missionaries to a mall to pick up some supplies. We ate lunch at McDonald’s. I couldn’t believe it, they were expecting $8.50 for a combo meal! And they didn’t even have fries, only chips! Ten one of the missionaries reminded me that South African Rand converted to U.S. dollars at a ratio of seven to one. It wasn't $8.50 they were asking for, it was R8.50. I would actually be paying about $1.21. Not bad for a combo meal! I was also relieved to discover that chips are fries.

“If you want potato chips,” one of the missionaries explained, “you have to ask for crisps.” Toward evening, one of the President’s assistants, Elder Baker, drove me out to my area. We passed through both city and dry wilderness. Again the sunset was spectacular. Before reaching

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my new area, the assistant turned to me and asked “We’ve got a little bit of extra time. Do you mind if we make a quick stop on the way?”

“Sure” I responded.Soon the city scene changed into a strange reservation-like

town, with tiny houses crammed together in some kind of government funded dirt-road suburb. We pulled into the yard of a small cement house. Te roof looked like tin wall siding, which I was sure would refect the sun well, and in the yard there were no plants at all – just dirt. I couldn’t help thinking of how dusty it must get when the weather is dry.

Because the sky was now dark, it wasn’t until after I got out of the car that I noticed that the dirt was red. It also looked soft and dry, like the sand on a dry beach, but with a deep rusty color. Te house itself was the color of plain gray cement, but the sand from the ground climbed up its edges like a red milk-mustache. Te window was square and exact, with a very basic frame. Elder Baker knocked on the door and began to open it, saying “ko ko!” as if trying to imitate with his voice the sound of knocking. I could see partly into the small home. Approaching the door was a short cheery-eyed elderly woman with beautiful chocolate brown skin, and wrinkles that gave her an unconscious perpetual smile. Her large fat nose and thick lips revealed her African nativity. She wore a somewhat tattered but neatly kept dress, and a turban with swirling colors, giving her whole person an African favor.

“THEMBA!” she shouted, shufing toward Elder Baker. “Kunjani Mama!” He responded, bending down to hug her.

Ten, after exchanging some words of reunion, the assistant introduced me to Mama Siabonga, one of his former investigators, whom he had baptized. She quickly invited us into the house, insisting that we eat some of her freshly baked biscuits. I was grateful for the ofer, since I had not eaten since lunchtime. Mama Siabonga was as happy and loving as any person I’d ever met. She spoke openly and excitedly of how the Lord had

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blessed her in sending the missionaries to teach her the gospel, and how all missionaries were like sons to her. I guessed that she had a tradition of never letting the missionaries leave without feeding them and telling them how blessed she was to have them as friends. She treated me like an old friend, and spoke to me as though I was among those who had come to bring her the gospel.

Ten the missionaries assigned to that area, who were also my new Zone Leaders arrived. I thought Mama Siabonga would pass out with excitement to have us all there in her home. I was touched by how happy, generous, and spiritual she was, and how she adored the missionaries. I soon discovered that these attributes and manners were quite common among the native African people. Despite the warmth and joy of the occasion, we knew we had to leave so I could arrive in my area before the missionary curfew. We bid goodbye. Somehow I sensed that if I were ever to return to this home, Mama Siabonga would remember me, and greet me by name, even before seeing my name tag.

Ten we left for the town that would be my frst area – Germiston. I was a little disappointed to fnd that Germiston was not in one of these little townships, but a busy suburban city. We pulled up to a tall gate in front of a long fve foor apartment building – or fat building, as it was called there. Te gate appeared to be a safety feature, as it closed of a seven foot tall cement wall that surrounded the building. We got out of the car and approached the square call-box in front of the gate. Elder Baker pushed the button that corresponded to the appropriate fat number. A voice came on and said he’d be right down. Ten the gate opened, and we drove the car into the parking lot. As we got out of the car, a missionary approached from outside. Ten Elder Baker introduced me to my frst companion, Elder Swainson. He helped me bring in my bags, and we bid Elder Baker goodbye. I only had a little time to unpack before going to

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bed. As I lay in bed that night, I reviewed the events of the past few days, my MTC experience, and thought about my home and family. A sense of anxiety and inadequacy swept over me. I knew what I was there to do, and I knew what I needed to teach, but somehow the rapid change and the sense of great responsibility weighed heavily on me. I realized that when I had accepted this call, I also accepted a burden of responsibility toward every person I met. I knew of those I met, there would be few that had already accepted the gospel, and I was under covenant to preach the gospel to every person.

In my eyes, this meant that if I didn't introduce the gospel to everyone I met, their sins would be on my head. I don't know if that's what the Lord expected that of me, but that was how I felt, and the feeling was heavy. And the people were strangers to me. I felt quite alone without the security of home and family. I realized that the discouraging feelings were not of God, but of Satan. I knew that Satan wanted me to focus on my inadequacies and convince me that I’d be unable to become what God desires of me. I prayed for courage and strength to face up to the challenges before me, so that I could be the most efective missionary possible. Te response wasn't immediate, but I did go to sleep with a confdence in the Lord’s wisdom, and a realization that it was because of my weakness that God could magnify me as a missionary. Tis recognition did little to decrease my anxiety, but it did strengthen my faith in the Lord’s capacity to make me what He needs me to be.

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Chapter 3

Godlike Sorrow Te next morning, after a breakfast of pancakes and

scriptures, Elder Swainson and I left to meet the zone leaders and trade companionships so that Elder Swainson, who was the district leader, could do some baptismal interviews of some of the people the zone leaders had been teaching. I was assigned to spend the frst half of the day with Elder Phipps, who took me shopping for food and other fundamentals.

We did get to do one teaching appointment that day. Tulani was a new member of the church, and had invited us to come and teach his sisters, Maves and Agnes. Te two had been taught the frst discussion, and we were now here to follow up on their reading of the Book of Mormon, and read a bit with them.

Maves mostly spoke Zulu, and struggled with English, so she preferred to read from the Zulu Book of Mormon. Agnes knew Afrikaans a little better, so she preferred the Afrikaans book. Neither Elder Phipps nor I knew either language, so we had to use the English Book of Mormon. Tat made for an interesting visit. As we spoke, Tulani translated into Zulu, and then Afrikaans. Each then in turn gave their responses and asked questions, which Tulani translated into English for us.

Elder Phipps admitted to me afterward that it's not common for missionaries to teach in three diferent languages at one time. I asked him how many languages are spoken in South Africa, and he

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listed of as many as he could. I soon learned that South Africa alone had eleven ofcial

languages. Te only two that were not native African languages were English and Afrikaans, which is a break-of from Dutch.Te other nine were: Zulu, Xhosa, Sotho, Tswana, Ndebele, Spedi, Venda, Tsonga, and Swati. Actually, those are the names of the tribes, and the languages had prefxes such as isi- or Se-, making them IsiZulu, or SePedi. Tese were only the ofcial South African languages. Tere were many people from outside of the country who had moved to South Africa, and spoke Portuguese, Shona, Chinese, Hindi, and others.

Tat evening, we met up with the other Elders and I was able to do some visiting and tracting with Elder Swainson. We went to one family's home who spoke Sotho. I knew by this time that most missionaries had been given an African name. I don’t remember my companion’s African name, but while visiting this family, Elder Swainson said “Elder Hathaway needs a Sotho name!”

Without hesitating, the mother of the home said “His name will be Tabo, because he is always smiling!” I asked them what “Tabo” meant, and they said it means happy. Troughout my mission, I was given diferent names (one for each of the languages I served around), but since this was the frst, it was the most permanent one, and it stuck throughout my mission. Tis made it easier for young children, since “Elder Hathaway” was harder to say than “Elder Tabo”.

Te next day, we had to do splits once more, so I again worked with Elder Phipps, and was excited when he suggested that we do some tracting. I suspect Elder Phipps knew that would be exciting for me, since this would be my frst opportunity. We decided to start at a fat building. He knocked frst, to show me how to do a door approach. Not

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interested. So I knocked next. It took three doors before one actually opened. An adult man with a bushy mustache answered the door.

“Hi, my name is Elder Hathaway, and this is Elder Phipps. We are missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and would like to share a message with you and your family about Jesus Christ.” We were invited in and introduced to the Scheepers family. Tey didn’t have time for a discussion at the moment, so we scheduled an appointment for another time. We learned, however, that the Scheepers family were members of a happy-clappy church, where singing, dancing, shouting, and making quite a commotion was the normal method of worship. As we continued tracting, it didn’t take me long to realize that South Africa has a lot of churches. I heard a statistic somewhere that estimated that there were at that time about seven thousand Christian religions in South Africa alone. Tat is not including all the native religions and eastern religions, which were also common. If the Palmyra of 1820 was anything like the South Africa of 1998, I could understand why Joseph Smith would have been so concerned about which church he should join, and where the truth could be found.

On a single block, there might be an Anglican church, a Methodist Church, a Baptist Church, and a Dutch Reformed Church.

Additionally, some of the other churches had missionaries of their own, so tracting could be quite frustrating. “You already came this week, and I’m still not interested!” seemed to be a common rejection, even though we may have never passed through that street before.

In the later afternoon, toward the time that we were to meet

the other elders again, we approached a fenced yard, and hesitated at the gate. Tere was a group of three or four men sitting together.

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Tey all looked up, expecting us to enter. “Tere isn’t a big dog that’s going to eat us if we come in, is

there?” I shouted. Tey laughed and stood up. One of them beckoned to us and

said “No, come on in!” Te men exchanged a few more words as we walked up the

driveway, and one of the men introduced himself as Brian. He then introduced his friends, who left shortly after the exchange. For a few minutes we spoke with Brian, following which he invited us to sit with him on his porch. We explained who we were, and what we do as missionaries. He seemed impressed. He even expressed some of his own religious views.

He was very kind and mannerly, and I was impressed with the gentleness of his nature, and the ease of his conversation. He seemed fascinated especially with Elder Phipps, since Elder Phipps was serving in the nearby township. “Isn’t it dangerous out there?” Brian asked.

Elder Phipps thought for a moment, and responded “It can be at times. But the people are so kind and willing to listen. Tey really treat the missionaries well. We’ve had a couple of encounters that have been less than pleasant, but most of the people are quite good out there.”

“Tat surprises me,” Brian said, “the blacks are considered by most of us to be rather dangerous and unapproachable.”

“Tere is more violence among them,” Elder Phipps replied, “but most of it is poverty-driven, rather than hate-driven. Te majority of the people are warm and welcoming, and eager to see white people and black people get along, and live together in harmony. Te opportunity to work with them is a wonderful experience, and I’ve really grown to love them.”

Brian didn’t seem convinced, but he spoke with sincerity. “I don’t think I could do it, but I respect you for it. It would be a difcult work, missionary work, especially among the blacks.”

“I must admit, also,” Elder Phipps started, “most of them do

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not speak English as fuently as white people do, so it is refreshing for me to be able to speak more openly and naturally to you.” We talked for a few more minutes, and then Elder Phipps asked Brian, “Can we give you a brief overview of what we share with people?”

Brian nodded gratefully. “We have six basic discussions that we share with people,

and we try to share them in order so we can build upon what we have already taught.”

Elder Phipps then gave a summary of each discussion, focusing on the principles that he felt Brian would be most interested in. “In the third discussion, we speak of how the Church that Jesus Christ set up was lost from the earth shortly after the death of the apostles, and how that church has been restored to the earth again.”

I was surprised at how accepting Brian was of these principles. He spoke of his own views, and how he believed in the truth of what we were saying.

As we spoke of the fourth discussion, which deals with the plan of salvation, life before this life, and the life to come, Brian seemed more solemn and concentrated. Elder Phipps paused, as Brian seemed deep in thought.

After a few moments, it was becoming clear that Brian was struggling to keep tears from coming. “You boys wouldn’t know this,” he said, “but just two weeks ago, our daughter, who was sufering terribly with a severe case of diabetes, committed suicide in our home.” Now the tears started coming freely. “You can’t imagine how difcult it has been for her mother and I. Our own daughter.”

We were shocked – and didn't dare say a word. Brian took a few moments to gather his composure and his thoughts. “I believe God sent you to me, to speak to me this evening. Your visit brings me great comfort.”

After a few more minutes of talking, we asked him if we

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could come and share the full discussions with him. Unfortunately, he refused. He said we certainly may stop by again if we’d like, but he didn’t want to receive the messages. We assured him we would come again. We tried once more to get his permission to come and discuss these principles further, but he continued to refuse.

As we left, and walked back down the street, both of us were in deep thought. I found myself thinking:

What a tragic event! I can’t imagine how terrible that would be. Without the Spirit, even we could not have been of any comfort to him. But how could he be so touched by our visit and yet not want us to come and share more? If only he knew that we have access to the fullness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. If only we could tell him that he can be sealed to his daughter for eternity! If only we could come and make these wonderful truths known to him and his wife! Perhaps he will come around, and fnally give in to the opportunity to hear the discussion. Perhaps we have planted the seed, and he will yet receive the message. But what if he never lets us share more with him? What if he persists in his stubbornness?

As I thought on these things, I couldn’t help wondering more about the work that happens on the other side of the veil. Would missionaries in the spirit world preach the gospel to him, as they are likely now teaching his daughter? Will those missionaries be able to convince him to hear the rest of the message? I realized that the answer was the Lord’s, and I could never make judgment for him, whether for good or bad. Most certainly we would make all the efort we could, but beyond that, it was in the Lord’s hands, and according to Brian’s agency.

Silently, I prayed in my heart “Oh, Father, let Brian’s heart be softened to receive thy truth!”

It didn’t take a long time in the mission feld to discover how many people refused the truth. I was surprised to fnd that just because a person feels the spirit, and is even given a witness of the Spirit that the gospel is true, doesn’t mean they will choose to act

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on that witness. As sad as it may seem, it was more common for this to happen than for someone to become fully converted and baptized. Perhaps the parable of the sower can explain this tragedy:

Matt. 13:19-23:

19 When any one heareth the word of the kingdom, and understandeth it not, then cometh the wicked one, and catcheth away that which was sown in his heart. Tis is he which received seed by the way side. 20 But he that received the seed into stony places, the same is he that heareth the word, and anon with joy receiveth it; 21 Yet hath he not root in himself, but dureth for a while: for when tribulation or persecution ariseth because of the word, by and by he is ofended. 22 He also that received seed among the thorns is he that heareth the word; and the care of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, choke the word, and he becometh unfruitful. 23 But he that received seed into the good ground is he that heareth the word, and understandeth it; which also beareth fruit, and bringeth forth, some an hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty.

I knew that this was an illustration of what happens in people's hearts, and I knew that Brian ft into one of these examples, but that didn't stop the sorrow it caused us to see him reject the gospel. Godlike sorrow is an interesting thing. Tere are many unpleasant emotions. Anger, frustration, disappointment, and anguish, are common sorrows, but it seems that the most ennobling, the most empowering, the most heart-building pain is godlike sorrow. While the pain it causes can tear the soul to pieces, godlike sorrow seems to have a more constructive efect than any other pain. It makes the heart softer, more pliable and willing to obey. It endears its bearer more completely to his maker.

Tough painful, godlike sorrow empowers a person to

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develop the gift of charity. If these feelings are dealt with properly, without the accompaniment of self pity, discouragement, and despair, they can increase true charity in the heart, and can help the heart love more deeply. I suppose our Father in Heaven is the perfect example of this. How He must weep with sorrow for the lost and fallen of His children! But how He must weep with joy for those who have chosen Him, and who follow Him. Tat is why charity includes both Godlike love and Godlike sorrow. He gets the fulness of both feelings, and we need to learn to experience both also in order to become like Him.

For a time I was confused about Brian’s choice to not have us come and share more. I also wondered about his daughter. What is to happen to those who take their own life? Is it considered murder? For both of their sakes, I take comfort in a statement made by J. Reuben Clarke:

“I feel that [the Savior] will give that punishment which is the very least that our transgression will justify. I believe that he will bring into his justice all of the infnite love and blessing and mercy and kindness and understanding which he has… “And on the other hand, I believe that when it comes to making the rewards for our good conduct, he will give us the maximum that it is possible to give, having in mind the ofense which we have committed.”

As Ye Sow … , [Brigham Young University Speeches of the Year] (3 May 1955), 7

I took comfort in the knowledge that the Lord looketh upon the heart, and not the outward appearance.

We did try again later to visit him – actually it was while Elder Phipps and I were on splits again, but Brian stuck to his desire to not have the lessons, but he thanked us. He felt that we had been sent to comfort him in his time of trial. I believe he was right.

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Chapter 4

Green

Te next day was Sunday, so we went to church. Te building was small compared to most of the church buildings in Utah. Tis one was about half the size of the one back home in Magna, Utah. We were in the Germiston Ward. Other than the size, the structure of the building was quite similar to those in Utah, and I was also very impressed with how similar the meeting itself was. Since it was the frst Sunday of the month, we had fast and testimony meeting. I was asked ahead of time to come and introduce myself and bare my testimony. Afterward many of the members came to greet and welcome me.

I felt very much at home here. It occurred to me that the church must be the same around the world. I later learned that most areas of South Africa did not have a nice chapel like this one, but the gospel was the same.

I was still too shy to speak much, but I did enjoy listening and getting to know people. Over the next few days, I made some goals to speak up more, and try harder to interact with people.

I found it quite difcult to understand many of the people. Tey were speaking English, but I could only understand half of what they were saying. On top of that, they could only understand half of what I was saying.

I soon learned that in Germiston, there were four major races of people: Afrikaners, Zulus, British, and coloreds. Afrikaners were the Dutch descendants who had settled South Africa, sailing

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in from the sea, arriving at the coast about the same time the Zulus (and other African tribes) had migrated down to the same area from countries further north, such as Botswana. Te British had come and settled South Africa when England took over South Africa.

When I frst heard someone speak of colored people, I was a bit troubled, since the term “colored” in the United States is often used as a racist term. In South Africa, however, the term colored was a normal way of referring to someone who was half white, half black. Actually, it didn’t usually mean that one parent was white, and the other was black. Most of them had parents, or even grandparents who were also colored, so over time they had basically become their own tribe.

Apartheid had required that the Afrikaans language be taught to all school children, and because of their Afrikaner roots, most colored people spoke Afrikaans as their frst language. Many didn't speak any native African language. One would think that because of this, they would live like Afrikaners, in the city. Unfortunately, colored people were forced to live in their own townships, separated from white people and black people. Black people generally didn’t get along with them because of the language diference, and white people didn’t get along with them because they looked, lived, and acted like black people. It was sad to see such segregation.

Unfortunately, since apartheid had ended only four years earlier, there were still a lot of bad feelings,which we had to simply bare. Occasionally we would be in the home of an Afrikaner, who would curse and degrade black people, referring to them as dogs. As painful as this was to hear, we had been encouraged by leaders to not take sides. We were not to feed the fame or fght the racism. We were simply to try to change the subject, which we had to do quite often.

Likewise, we were encouraged to not get involved in political discussions; especially since they could become quite heated and

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bitter. Accordingly, I didn’t know much of the politics of South Africa other than what I heard from people’s conversation; conversation which, for the most part, was one-sided and not pleasant to hear anyway! It did become quickly clear that for the most part, the white people were not happy that apartheid was over – mostly because of the increase of crime since that time.

On the other hand, Africans were usually quite happy that apartheid had ended. Tough being in the strong majority, they had been oppressed, and forced to live in reservations called townships. Tey were now allowed to enter cities or go to malls or even work in these places. When apartheid ended, many black people quickly moved out of the townships and into the cities, so they could partake of all the opportunities they had previously been denied.

Tis is why the towns were now a perfect mix of black people and white people, and why the townships were one hundred percent black people. Te white people were too frightened to go into the townships – that is, except the missionaries.

Most of the members of the church had adapted to the changes much better than the general population. Tey were grateful for the opportunities that the changes aforded black people. Sadly, this was only usually the case, and what little bit of clash did exist between the races was often enough to encourage the black people to bus out to the township ward for church rather than learn to live and worship among the white people.

About a week after my arrival in the country, we had a special Zone Conference, where we met the area presidency, consisting of President Dennis E. Simmons, who is a member of the frst quorum of the seventy, frst counselor Ray H. Wood, also a member of the frst quorum of the seventy, and second counselor Christofel Golden, Jr., who later became a member of the seventy.

President Simmons went down the line, greeting Elders and shaking hands. He stopped at me and asked where I was from. I told him, and he asked, “How long have you been here?”

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I sheepishly responded, “Well, I’ve only been in the feld a week, so I’m about as green as they get!”

Elder Simmons tightened his grip and pulled me closer, saying, “Don’t ever let anyone call you green! You have as much authority as any Elder here!”

A bit taken aback, I quickly nodded and said “Okay!”

I thought about his words many times throughout my mission. What did it mean to be green? I’d always thought of it as meaning new. Weren’t all new missionaries called “greenies?” I came to fnd out later that there really is a danger in abusing the term “green.” Some missionaries used it to downplay a new missionary’s determination to obey an important rule. It could also be used by the new missionary himself as an excuse to avoid necessary steps in his personal growth and development. Surely, if abused, such a label could ruin a missionary early in his mission.

I suppose labels can be dangerous outside the mission feld as well. How often we hear of someone’s standards being trampled on simply by the use of the term “goody-goody”, or “momma’s boy”, or just plain “wimp”. How often do we separate and alienate someone by the use of the label “smoker”, or “drinker”. Do such labels justify our isolating people who might otherwise enjoy happy association with those of higher standards, and who might, in the process, overcome their problems on their own? What about the term “nonmember”? Is the term justifable when it separates us from those who might be good friends and neighbors? Of course we must be cautious if a person makes efort to lure us into places we ought not to be, or to do things that we ought not to do. We don't have to go with others to a bar just to prove that we don't label them a “drinker”. In such circumstance, perhaps the association ought to be curtailed. But I suspect that this is the exception to the rule, and not the rule itself. We need to have good friends, be they of whatever background, but we need not isolate people by labels, whether or not they accurately portray the label. I suppose this was

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also part of the problem so prevalent in South Africa. Tose “blacks,” or those “whites”. It sometimes became so easy to say “blacks,” that a person may forget that this is a person they are referring to. Had those color labels never been there in the frst place, would there have ever been a problem with diferent races getting along? If we all considered one another the same – children of God, would we have all the contention that we have now?

I realized that no matter what our circumstances, no matter our faults, sins, shortcomings, choices, situation, background, religion, race, or nativity, there is only one label that fts each of us, and that is “Child of God”. We are all working for the same goal – some of us (or probably, at some time at least, all of us) have simply forgotten about that goal. Others remember the goal, but have forgotten the way. If we look past the labels and problems of others, perhaps we will have the opportunity to remind them of that goal that all of us once shared, and of the label – the one hundred percent accurate label – that all of us still share.

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Chapter 5

Te Easiest Question

In that same meeting with President Simmons, I learned another remarkable lesson. It was his turn to speak, and he opened up the frst few minutes for questions. One of the questions asked was, "If we look just like our spirit, then why do the genetics passed on to us by our parents play such a big role in our physical appearance?"

His response came quickly, without the slightest hesitation, "Well, that's about the easiest question to answer anyone's ever asked me – I don't know!" Te question was immediately dropped. Further questions were asked and answered, but it was that response that really impressed me.

I realized at that moment, that if I had been asked that question, I probably would have given an answer. It would have been a speculative answer, perhaps beginning with, "I'm not sure, but I suspect that…" But would that have been wise? Perhaps giving my speculation, as long as I marked it so, would have been acceptable, and maybe it would have even settled the question in the mind of the inquirer, but would it have been wise? I didn't know.

But I did know this – Elder Simmons had come to teach truth. He had no need to speculate. Perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind he had a speculation. Perhaps he was even pretty sure his speculation was correct. Perhaps his speculation even made perfect and arguable sense – but he didn't voice it. He stuck to the pure and undefled doctrine. He only told what he knew. In this

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case, the only thing he knew was that he didn't know the answer to the question, and he said so.

Tere is power in sharing undefled, unspeculated doctrine. If true faith can only be exercised in things that are true, then there can be no real faith in speculation. If truth and speculation are mingled, there is room for doubt, and where there is doubt, there is no faith.

Tis lesson is important to understand – that it's okay to not know the answer. Tis is especially true for missionaries and teachers. Its okay to say "I don't know." It is best to say "I don't know," if that is the truth. One who teaches and mingles truth with speculation will not be trusted nearly as much as one who speaks only truth and is not afraid to not have the full answer. After all, every question has at least one safe answer that we know we can place full faith in – namely "God knows the answer, and I know God lives and loves us." If this is true, then what is there to fear? Why should we be concerned if we are living close to the Lord, knowing that He, and only He, has all the answers?

Perhaps this was part of the issue when it came to bible bashing. Occasionally, I would see or hear of missionaries getting into a bible bash with an investigator. Te real contest in a bash is seeing who knows the scriptures the best. Tis is a problem, because no matter who seems to win the debate, both participants lose. Te loser doesn't conform to his "opponent's" way of thinking – he simply walks away angry.

Tis is not the spirit of God. Besides, no matter who seems to have proven themselves to know the scriptures better, God still knows the scriptures better. God has the answers. We cannot teach without Him. If we try, we fail to teach. Tat's all there is to it. A missionary doesn't have to know the answer. All he has to do is bare testimony that God has the answers. If the missionary is close to the Lord, the Lord will confrm that response in the heart of the investigator. If the missionary knows the answer, he can bare

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humble testimony of it, and the Holy Ghost will carry that testimony into the heart of the listeners.

Te closer we get to God, the more answers He will give us. But the closer we get to God, the more we will recognize how many things we don't know, and how inferior our intellect is. When we recognize this fact, we fnd that the response, "I don't know" is not a mark of weakness, but rather a mark of strength. We don't need to know. We know the Lord knows. We can research and pray to fnd answers. Some answers He will give, but to questions He does not answer after sufcient efort, diligence, and faith on our part, He gives the peaceful assurance that He does know the answer, and will take care of us.

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Chapter 6

Large Snake on Duty

Elder Swainson and I had been working hard for over three weeks, and the work was rather slow. Most people weren't very receptive, and many ditched our appointments. Tracting usually resulted in closed doors and tired feet, and street contacting proved inefective.

I decided that if I could master the frst discussion, I'd be able to teach more efectively, and maybe we'd have a few more follow-up lessons.

I picked up my discussion booklet and turned to the frst lesson. I remembered reading the discussions for the frst time before going to the MTC. At frst I couldn't help noticing how simple the doctrine was. Now I recognized that the teachings in the discussions were only simple in the sense that they used simple words to describe great and powerful truths. Tere is a diference between great teaching and great teachings. A great teacher can make worthless information sound profound, but only great teachings have the power to improve lives. I was learning the value of teaching great things in a simple manner.

One of the interesting things about the teachings of the gospel is that no matter what words are used, they are tailored to the preparation of the listener. For example, in the frst discussion, the frst principle taught is that God is our perfect, all knowing, all powerful Father. Tis may seem a simple principle to one who is not prepared to hear it. Tey may understand by it that God is powerful. Tat's probably not new information to them.

But to one who is deeply in tune with the Spirit of God, the message may be this: God is the greatest, most powerful and loving being in the universe. He controls and governs galaxies without number. But His real work, as with any good Father's, is the raising of His children.

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His Children! We are literal, not fgurative, sons and daughters of God! And if He really is our Father, He must be the same species as we are. Tus, He is human. He is a perfect, all powerful human. And if he is human, and perfect and all powerful, and I am literally His child, then I can grow up to be just like He now is.

So by the one, simple phrase, the Spirit can bare witness of the truth of the fullness of the gospel, and convert the individual to obedience to the gospel truths.

I suspect that the term "small and simple things" is simply referring to the fact that with the help of the Holy Ghost, there is nothing that is small or insignifcant.

After a half hour of discussion study, an hour of personal study, another hour of companionship study, and a breakfast of toast and corn fakes, we prepared for departure. "We've got to do splits again today," Elder Swainson informed me, "Elder Jenkins and Elder Rajaonarison have a baptism coming up, so I've got to do more interviews. You'll go out into the township with Elder Jenkins. Te Zone leaders will drive the two of you out there, and then come pick you up at the end of the day."

I was excited. I'd been many times impressed with Elder Jenkins, having met and spoken with him a few times at District meetings. He was a rolling snowball of enthusiasm for missionary work. Also, I was eager to see what missionary work in the township was like.

We met with the other elders, and rode up to Katlehong. After dropping us of, Elder Jenkins and I walked to his frst appointment. "Lets sing a hymn on the way!" Elder Jenkins said. He knew that I enjoyed music, and I'd been aware of his musical talents as well.

"Okay. Which one?""How about 'I Need Tee Every Hour'?""Sure!"Elder Jenkins gave a frst note, I found the harmony, and we

started to sing.Te township is not like the towns in South Africa. Townships

rarely have many cars, since most of the people could not aford them, so people usually traveled on foot. It was a rather quiet morning, but there were still plenty of people about. Also, we were the only white people within miles. Between that fact and our singing, I'm sure we drew quite a bit of attention to ourselves.

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"Tis could really be a good missionary tool!" I said after we fnished the last verse.

"Hey!" Elder Jenkins said, "Do you mind if we sing to some of our investigators?"

"No, not at all."We arrived at his frst appointment, and not everyone was home.

After rescheduling the appointment in hopes of everyone being home the next time, Elder Jenkins said to the few that were home "Can we sing a song for you?" Te people nodded, and we started to sing our hymn again.

Te rest of the day went fabulous, with a couple of appointments, and a great deal of street contacting. I was amused by Elder Jenkins's ability to speak Zulu so well. While we were not allowed to use study time to learn the languages, there was nothing wrong with keeping a little notebook to keep track of new words, and ask investigators to teach us their languages. Tat was Elder Jenkins's method. With his surprising ability to pick up words and grammar, he was able to relate well to people. He seemed to have a passion for the language and culture of the people, and the people loved him for it. I found myself wanting to do the same, so I started having him teach me Zulu.

I think my favorite part of Zulu was the clicks. In Zulu, they not only have clicks in their language, but there are three diferent kinds of clicks, represented by three diferent letters of the alphabet – C, Q, and X. Tose were the click letters. As people spoke, they could clearly tell which click was being used. It was fascinating.

One investigator, who had only been given a frst discussion and a Book of Mormon, shocked us both when he said he had read the entire book of Moroni, and was going back to read the other books. "My brothers," he said, "this Book is the word of God. Te things in this book are very great!"

We didn't have time at that moment to teach him the next discussion, as we had another appointment right away, but we quickly made another appointment with him.

Due to the increase of crime in the area, we'd been given explicit instructions by the Mission President to be out of the Township by 7:00 p.m. We'd made arrangement with the other elders to have them fetch us (the South African term for "pick us up") at 6:45. Our appointment got

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out at about twenty minutes before 7:00, so we ran from that appointment to the meeting-place.

Tey were not there yet. We sat and waited, concerned about our approaching curfew. At about 7:20 we saw the two elders, accompanied by the Branch President, approaching from down the street. Surprised at their delay, and to see them without the car, we ran to meet them.

"What's going on?" Elder Jenkins asked.Elder Phipps looked up at us with a pale expression. "We got high-

jacked again.""Te car got stolen?" I asked.Elder Phipps looked at Elder Salia, who seemed to be in trauma.

"Worse. Te car was stolen and we were shot at!"Only eight days earlier, these very same elders had been high-

jacked with their previous car.In the Taxi on the way home, they told us the whole story. Tey

had been at a member's house, and as they came back to the car, four guys approached them, two of which had guns. Tey demanded the keys. After giving them the keys, one of the burglars took a shot in each of their directions, and then one shot into the sky. Te two elders scrambled to the ground, climbing behind bushes or whatever they could fnd. Ten the car sped of, leaving them shocked and terrifed.

Tey had then quickly returned to the member's house, and contacted the branch president, who came over and walked them back to our meeting place. After explaining what happened, neither missionary wanted to speak of the incident anymore. Tey said they don't want to talk about it again until they called the Mission President, who could instruct them what they were to do next.

When we arrived back at the apartment, Elder Jenkins said, "Maybe this sounds a little cheesy, but perhaps we should have a prayer together before we part." Elder Phipps quickly replied, "Tere is nothing cheesy about the gospel – I think we should defnitely pray."

I remembered his statement "Tere is nothing cheesy about the gospel" many times throughout my mission. Sometimes we feel awkward doing what's right because we are afraid it might seem cheesy or awkward. No matter what anyone thinks, there is nothing cheesy, lame, annoying, fanatical, overzealous, silly, or strange about the gospel. It is the most serious, perfect answer to every question. It gives all the

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perspective necessary for every situation. It is the answer. It is the thing that makes everything else signifcant, and even demonstrates the insignifcance of things which we may have thought were signifcant. It is the only thing that allows anything in life to make sense.

After this second high-jacking, President Bangerter instructed the 4 Katlehong elders (Te Zone leaders worked half of the township) to not go in the township for a while, but to split with Elder Swainson and myself until further notice.

Te frst day I went with Elder Jenkins. Te one or two appointments that we had scheduled fell through, so we went tracting.

One house that we tracted into had a warning sign on the front gate: "WARNING: Large Snake on Duty!" It included an engraved picture of a Cobra, raised to its full stature and ready to strike. I could just imagine my parents receiving a tragic letter from the church explaining that I'd been attacked by a deadly poisonous African Cobra snake while tracting, and that my body would be shipped home for burial. Elder Jenkins was ahead of me, and when I tried to prevent him from entering, he informed me that people will often put such signs in front of their house as a security device, to scare of potential burglars. He also told me that many people place large rubber snakes on their car's dash board to protect the car. I later discovered this to be true. I couldn't help being amused.

As we entered the gate, I saw the green, luscious yard, with a beautiful fountain and pond. Te house was large and probably owned by a wealthy family.

We knocked on the door, and a man answered. I guessed from his accent that he was Zulu. He sounded very interested in having the discussions, but did not have time at that moment, so he told us to come back in the evening. So after a few more hours of tracting, we returned to the house and again knocked on the door. Tis time, his wife answered the door. Te man wasn't home, but his wife invited us to come in, so we did. Te home was beautiful, and was at least as rich as it appeared from the outside. Te woman introduced us to her brother and sister, as well as her father Solomon, who was lying on the couch, covered in a blanket. Te woman informed us that he had severe diabetes, and wasn't feeling well. Tey were the Mtimkulu family, which is a Zulu word that means

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'large tree'. We normally tried to wait until the whole family was together, but we decided to at least introduce the family to the discussions.

Elder Jenkins got out his discussion booklet and began; "In our frst discussion, we talk about…" As he spoke, I glanced back over to the old man on the couch. His feet were sticking out from under the blanket at one end of the couch. I was a bit startled when I noticed that his toes seemed to be rotting. Tey were completely black and shriveled, almost like raisins. He also turned and shifted a lot, as if in great pain. I felt terrible pity for him. I even wondered if his toes had gangrene. I shuttered at the thought.

As we fnished presenting the discussions, we gave them a Book of Mormon. Normally, we didn't ofer to give a blessing, especially before a person is taught about the priesthood, unless someone asked us for one. But Elder Jenkins and I felt that it might be appropriate now. We explained to the family that we had authority to bless the sick by laying our hands on their head and praying. Tey gratefully accepted the ofer, and I got out my oil vial. Elder Jenkins took it from me and said, "I will anoint, and you can seal the anointing." I nodded, a little nervously, since I had never pronounced a blessing before. I suppose Elder Jenkins knew that, and wanted to give me an opportunity to have the experience. I'd been trained on the procedure, but I still felt inadequate.

Elder Jenkins anointed, and I laid my hands on Solomon's head. After sealing the anointing, I paused. I didn't know what to say. All the thoughts I'd considered voicing vanished from my memory. I began to feel tense, and started to sweat.

Ten I realized that I was not going to be able to think up what to say. So instead, I just opened my mouth and said whatever words came into my heart. Te words came more easily than I had expected. After the blessing, I felt warm and relaxed, and I hoped these feelings meant that I'd said what I was supposed to. Ten we prayed together with the family, made another appointment, and left.

Te experience left a deep impression on me. I thought a lot about the blessing, and hoped and prayed for Solomon's recovery.

Unfortunately, the family missed our appointment a few days later, and we tried many times to contact them, but without success.

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four Katlehong elders that they could return to Katlehong, but they were to work only in the safer part of the township, an extension of Katlehong called Spruitview, which consisted of much of the area that Elder's Jenkins and his companion Elder Rajaonarison were serving in. I was grateful to hear this, since they were having so much success.

Te next little while proved good and successful. We fnally had a couple of investigators that were progressing, and we had a lot of frst discussions to teach.

I was always impressed with Elder Swainson. He seemed to be as diligent and as obedient a missionary as any I'd yet met. He was quite easy-going and I had no problem getting along well with him. And now, we were beginning to have more success.

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Chapter 7

Te Blessing

“Are you serious?” Elder Swainson said, the phone against his ear. His tone was anything but joyful.

“Already?” Elder Swainson said, “Alright. Well, thanks for calling.” His voice sounded resigned, and I wondered what was wrong. He put the phone down.

“Who was it?” I inquired. “Te Zone leaders,” Elder Swainson replied, “I’m being

transferred.”I was shocked. “But you’ve only been here three months, and I’ve

only been here one. You’re being transferred already?”Elder Swainson nodded. Te news was a blow for both of us. In

our mission, the average time for a missionary to serve in an area was four or fve months. Elder Swainson had only been in Germiston for three months. Also it was uncommon for a trainer to have his companion for less than two months.

I knew I’d miss my frst companion. He had become a good friend to me, and was as hard a worker as any missionary I knew. Te thought of his leaving also made me a little anxious. What would my next companion be like? Would he be a hard-working missionary?

In thinking and praying more about it, it didn’t take long to come to terms with the news. I knew it was the Lord who had made the call, and I knew that He would take care of both of us. It was the Lord who had called me on a mission to South Africa. It was the Lord who had called me to serve in Germiston, and it was the Lord who called me to serve with Elder Swainson. Te Lord always makes the calls, and it is the Lord that prepares the way for us to fulfll those calls.

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Tat evening, I met Elder Heward, my new senior companion. He had only a few months of mission left, and I would likely be one of his last companions. I quickly discovered that he was a great man with a great love for the people he served, and I was pleased to work with him.

Within a couple of days we stopped by at Solomon’s house. When the mother of the home answered the door, we asked how Solomon was doing. She looked down. “He is dead.”

I was stunned! I knew he had been ill, and that he needed medical attention, but I had no idea that his condition was fatal. She told us the funeral was to be the next day, and she’d appreciate it if we could come. We told her we’d be there, and she invited us to come in. Tere was a large group of family and friends gathered together in the parlor of the house to mourn and sing. Teir voices chanted a deep, beautiful Zulu melody, and we could sense the heavy feelings of loss they were experiencing.

When they fnished singing, the mother introduced us to the group, explaining to them that we were missionaries who had come to preach the gospel. “Now,” she said, “they will ofer some words of comfort.” I looked up. I hadn't been on my mission long enough to feel comfortable with speaking at a moment's notice. Also, I’d barely learned of the situation, and wasn’t yet sure how I was going to deal with it. Especially since I’d been the one to give Solomon a blessing. Why didn’t he get better after he’d been given a blessing?

Why hadn't the blessing worked? Had I not shown sufcient faith for him to be healed? Had he not shown enough faith? Why had I been too shy to promise him that he’d be healed? Could I have saved his life if I'd simply said, “you will be healed?” I knew of course that his death was not my fault, but what about the family? Would they think I’d somehow cursed him to die?

Since I’d been the one who knew the family, I spoke frst. I assured the family that there is life beyond death, and that through the gospel of Jesus Christ, there was a way for families to be together forever. After I fnished, Elder Heward spoke to them, sharing his testimony and giving comfort to the family.

When we arrived home that evening, I called Elder Jenkins and told him the news. At frst he was quiet. Ten he made an unexpected

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Sorry, that’s all you get. Now buy the book! You know you want to!

http://willowrise.com

Okay, last chance! Buy it now or you’ll never get another opportunity!

Okay, not really, but still...