Stories from My Mission: Thanksgiving in Argentina

In my second area of my mission in the city of Sáenz Peña I had been in the country for about nine months. I was with my third companion, Elder Palazuelos, in the area. The neighborhood where I worked was generally very poor, and most of the streets were unpaved. So when it was dry, which was often, we were very dusty, and when it was raining, which was often, we were very muddy. But it was a relatively large city (about 80,000 people) and "el centro" (downtown) area was richer than the rest of the city. Richer is a relative term since it meant that some people were not in danger of starving and may have even had a small disposable income. My area didn't cover el centro so I really didn't get to talk to people who had much money or access to basic resources.

One of the members that lived in el centro, who had plenty of money, had heard from different missionaries about the American tradition of Thanksgiving. He wanted to give the American missionaries a treat so he told them that he could prepare a Thanksgiving dinner for all the American missionaries in the zone. The member happened to live in the zone leader's area so our zone leader let us know that there was a member who was willing to fix us a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. We were all excited to hear this because generally Argentine food was not know for being particularly tasty. We were all looking forward to having something different and to celebrate Thanksgiving half a world away from our families.

As Thanksgiving drew near our zone leader let us know the details about when and where the dinner would be held. Unfortunately for our zone leader, Elder Adams, he found out that he had a zone leader conference he had to go to so he was quite disappointed that he would miss it all. The day before Thanksgiving Elder Adams left for Resistencia and his companion stayed with Elder Palazuelos and me.

The entire week of Thanksgiving was wet and rainy and miserable. My companion was sick a lot so we couldn't get much done. I think that week we only managed to log 18 hours of actual missionary work with one lesson taught the entire week (it turned out that my companion really was really sick, he wasn't faking it, he eventually had to go home because of it, like it was potentially life threatening kind of sick).

Thanksgiving day I spent with my companion and with the zone leader's companion. At one point the other Elders in the zone showed up and my companion went with them to take care of business and I was left with the zone leader's companion, and that is another story for another day.

When the zone leader had arranged with the member to have Thanksgiving dinner Elder Adams had clearly told him, "The most important part of Thanksgiving dinner is the turkey. You have to get a turkey." The member told Elder Adams that he would have no problem getting a turkey since he knew a farmer who raised turkeys and was willing to sell him one. Elder Adams explained to the member the importance of the turkey and said, "If for what ever reason you can't get a turkey, then get a duck. If you can't get a duck then get a chicken. The important thing is it's a bird. It has to be a bird."

So in the evening we traveled to the member's apartment (bigger than most houses in Argentina) to have Thanksgiving dinner. All of us were thinking of turkey, which had been promised to us, rolls, mashed potatoes, corn, stuffing, pumpkin pie, and all the other goodies that somehow are entirely absent in the Argentine diet.

We got to the apartment and the member and his family greeted us warmly and then said, "Sorry Elders, we couldn't get a turkey. So we got a pig. It's in the oven."

Fortunately they didn't speak English so they couldn't understand what the American missionaries said. We were good natured about it but we were all a little like, "Really? You couldn't get a bird? Any bird would do." Further more the "rolls" were standard Argentine stick bread (bought by the kilo). The potatoes were boiled but not mashed (and not seasoned, not even salt). The pumpkin pies were bought from a local bakery, where apparently the baker had never heard of the invention of sugar, or salt.

Then the pig came out.

It still had the hair on it.

Not that it had much hair to begin with, but what hair it had was still there.

Then they served it to us.

My slice came from right near the surface. It had about 3-4 inches of fat covered in 1/2 inch skin (still with the hair on it) and then the barest trace of meat on the bottom.

I didn't eat it.

I think the only thing good about the dinner was the canned corn.

Then for an after dinner treat they served us a drink called Anana Fizz. The members in Argentina like it since it's like Sparkling Cider, but pineapple flavored. The great selling point for members of the church is that it is "alcohol free", which as I found out later, "alcohol free" in Argentina means less than 3% alcohol. So not really "alcohol free". I think all the other Elders woke up the next morning with headaches. They blamed it on the food. I read the label on the bottle carefully in the middle of my second glass, and I didn't have any more after that. I woke up the next morning just fine.

Elder Adams, who was so upset to miss Thanksgiving dinner returned the next day. Heard all about our misadventures, and then didn't feel so bad about going out of town for a zone leader conference.

Stories from My Mission: A Tool in the Hand of God

My worst companion on my mission was my last companion. Of all of my companions he was the most difficult, the strangest, the most worrisome, and the only one that I felt should not be a missionary.

I had already been in my last area with two different companions. While it was unusual to have three different companions in a single area I had had three companions in my previous three areas so getting a third companion was not unexpected. I had two transfers left and while my mission president usually did not put missionaries into an area for only two transfers it did happen. So I was sort of halfway expecting to be transferred to a new area for my last two transfers since my current companion, Elder Larson, had only been there for one transfer.

But on the morning of transfers we went to the mission office (it was only a short bus ride away from my area) to find out who was being transferred. We walked through the door and the office elders quickly told my companion that he was going to be transferred instead of me. I asked who my new companion would be and all anyone would tell me was, "Elder Tanner, I'm so, so, so sorry." I think someone even gave me a hug of condolence. I finally had to corner one of the APs and get him to tell me who my new companion would be (he was a little surprised that no one had warned told me yet).

He told me my new companion's name, but it was a missionary I had never heard of before. I went out to talk to a few other elders who had also come in to find out where they were going and who their new companions would be. There was one Elder who asked my who my new companion would be and I told him. He looked at me and said, "What did you do to be put with him?" We talked some more and he asked me about some of my other companions. I listed them off to him and at each one he winced at the name. At the end he looked at me and said, "Does President hate you? Why would he keep putting you with so many bad Elders?"

Despite my apparent legendary list of "bad companions" according to everyone I talked to this last one would be the one to top them all. About this time Elder Dacoli, who was a friend of mine, arrived. Elder Dacoli and I had never been companions but we had been in the same zone a few times, and we had worked together occasionally and we even had one very special spiritual experience together. Elder Dacoli was the nicest, most Christlike person I have ever had the pleasure to know in my life. Preciously when he had asked me who my companions were he would always have something good to say about them, even for the ones who were quite insufferable. I am sure that Elder Dacoli could find something good to say about each and every person he ever met. Which is why when I told Elder Dacoli who my new companion was his response surprised me.

I mentioned who my new companion was and all he said was, "Oh. Well Elder, good luck." That was perhaps the most damning thing I could have ever imagined Elder Dacoli to say. He didn't even offer to say anything positive about this Elder. I began to wonder what I was getting myself into.

I don't have the time or energy to compress the next six weeks into a single blog post, but I'll give you the highlights. I'll call my companion Elder A.

On his very first day in the area I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt because I had learned from so many of my previous companions that to have charity and to not criticize or judge were critical for being a good missionary and also a good person in general. So my initial thought while walking around with Elder A was to give him an opportunity to show me who he was before I made any judgements.

Because I had been in the area for three months I knew it pretty well and I could have just gone where ever I wanted without telling Elder A and he would have had no idea. But I was committed to making this a good companionship so I would stop occasionally and talk to him and explain to him where we needed go and why. We had one set appointment with the rest of the afternoon free. He seemed resistant to going to our appointment, but he eventually consented. Unfortunately the person we were looking for wasn't there so we had to turn to finding people.

I consulted a map of the area and decided to go to a particular neighborhood where I had never been before. I told this to Elder A and he immediately questioned why we were going there. I said that I had been in almost every other neighborhood but this was one I had never before visited and I felt that we needed to go there. He said that we shouldn't go there. We discussed it for a while until finally he asked which direction we needed to go to get there. I pointed north, down the street and he promptly started walking south, in the opposite direction. I had to hurry up to catch up with him. I asked him where he was going and he said, "I don't think we should go that way."

I tried to reason with him but it really didn't work. I got him to turn at the next block, but every time I indicated which direction we needed to turn he would go the exact opposite direction. After a while I stopped talking to him and tried to subtly get him to go in the direction we needed to go. After a few twists and turns (I knew the area very well and had a good mental map) I knew we were back on track and he had no idea we were headed in the direction I had originally planned to go.

When we finally got to the particular street that I had felt we needed to go to Elder A looked down the street and said, "Now that you have wasted our time getting us here, now what?" I indicated a house on the corner and he promptly went to the one on the opposite corner (which actually wasn't a house, it was a small shop and after a brief and awkward conversation with the person working there we moved on). I got him to move down the street stopping occasionally to talk to people. There was one person who was not interested and I said good day to them by my companion persisted and tried to set a time to come back to talk to them. Awkwardness ensued (we never saw them again).

As we moved down the street it turned into a minor battle, with Elder A throwing himself at every person who showed no interest and curtly ending conversations with every person who showed a grain of interest. There was one young man sitting outside his house plucking on a guitar. We approached and I introduced myself. I gave a brief rundown of who we were and the message we were sharing. At that moment the young man said the words that every missionary dreams of hearing on a first encounter, "Hey, that sounds really interesting I would like to learn more about your message. We can talk right now because I have time, and maybe you can come back some other time and we can talk some more."

Elder A heard those words and promptly said, "Well it's been good talking to you but we need to move along." and walked off. My jaw dropped down into the street. I ran after my companion and caught up with him at the end of the block. I asked him what he was doing and he said, "He obviously wasn't interested." To which I replied, "He told us he was interested."

For the next six weeks this same scene played itself out over and over. If I said we needed to go one way he would go the other. If I thought someone was progressing he would disagree. Elder A contradicted me in every way possible. It got to the point that members were approaching me and asking if the mission president knew about Elder A. I told them he did. I knew the mission president knew about him because I did something I had never done before. I requested a transfer, but the mission president turned me down.

It was about this time that I was talking to one of the APs. We had gone to high school together so he was willing to give out more information than normal. He said that the decision to put me with Elder A was made at his first meeting with the mission president after he became an AP. He said that they stood there with a map of the mission, with all the missionary pictures and started matching up companions. When they had nearly finished they had three or four Elders whose pictures were left at the bottom of the board and they didn't know what to do with them. For some of them they just stuck them off in their own area and hoped they didn't do anything stupid.

But for Elder A they had a hard time because they had to find someone to be his companion who would not get mad and hit him in the face (something that apparently happened before). They finally decided to give him to me because they knew I wouldn't hit him, and fortunately I didn't prove them wrong.

After six weeks I couldn't stand it any more and asked my mission president for a transfer. He just told me that I only had to survive six more weeks and then I could go home. I really didn't appreciate hearing that. It was one moment when I really didn't feel like sustaining my priesthood leader.

That evening Elder A and I were back on the street with me doing our usual, not telling him where we were going and hoping he wouldn't suddenly decide to do something stupid. There was a less active member I had been trying to find for a while and I wanted to stop by his house. As soon as Elder A figured out that we were going in a specific direction he began his standard practice of taking random turns and trying to steer us away from where ever I wanted to go. Eventually I got us to the right street (we only had to circle the block two or three times before I got him close enough to turn down the right street).

About half way down the block Elder A realized that we were getting to where I wanted to go and promptly went to the opposite side of the street. I walked up to the house to clap only to realize that my companion was standing 40 feet away down the street. I went back to try to get him to just cross the street but the harder I tried the worse it got.

Finally something in me snapped and I did something I have never done with anyone since. I got confrontational. I looked at Elder A and demanded to know what he was doing. He waffled behind some excuses that he didn't think we should be here or he didn't think it was worth trying to find this person, but I didn't let it go like I had before. I kept pressing and demanding to know why he was so resistant to crossing the street. I told him that he didn't even have to talk, just cross the street. He continued to refuse and then asked why I was getting upset.

I really didn't want to do this in the middle of the street, but I really didn't have any other option. I told him bluntly and directly, "Elder, you are destroying the work in this area. You are an active impediment to the work of the Lord." Elder A responded by saying that I was destroying the work just as much and began to list of ever minor infraction I had ever committed, including wasting time walking long distances only to find that the people we were looking for were not home. He listed every personality flaw that he thought I had (or the ones he had enough mental wherewithal to know about).

I told him that really didn't want to have this discussion in the middle of the street since it would be a very bad idea to have people see two Mormon missionaries arguing in the street. I insisted that we go back to our apartment but he wanted to have it all out there in the middle of the street. After a while I finally convinced him to go back to our apartment.

As soon as we got in I sat down with him and again told him that he was destroying the work of the Lord and was an active impediment to the Church. He again told me that he was no worse than me. I asked him why he contradicted me on every decision and refused to go anywhere I had decided to go.

Finally after six weeks Elder A opened up and began to be honest with me. He said that our mission president had threatened to send him home, and if he was sent home from his mission he would be too embarrassed to go to Church so he would probably just leave the Church. So when our mission president had read him the riot act he had decided that he would strenuously keep the mission rules. Unfortunately in his mind "keeping the mission rules" meant contradicting me. Before he had met me he had apparently overheard one of the Elders in the office talking about me and my previous companion Elder Larson. The office Elder had remarked at our teaching stats, which were unusually low, and was wondering if we were doing any work out in our area.

Elder A took that and assumed that I was the laziest, good for nothing, rule-breaking-est missionary there ever was and came to the conclusion that in order to be a good missionary he needed to contradict every single decision I ever made. He told me that for the last six weeks he had intentionally been making my life difficult because he had it fixed in his mind that I was a bad missionary. All this time I had just been thinking he was stupid. I had no idea that he was malicious as well.

I acknowledged that I was not a perfect person and even accepted some of the things he had listed off as to why I was a "bad missionary", but insisted that minor personality flaws or even just basic human traits did not make me a "bad missionary". I again reiterated the fact that by actively creating disharmony in the companionship he was actively destroying the work of the Lord. I then quoted to him D&C 1:19-23 which reads:

19 The weak things of the world shall come forth and break down the mighty and strong ones, that man should not counsel his fellow man, neither trust in the arm of flesh—
20 But that every man might speak in the name of God the Lord, even the Savior of the world;
21 That faith also might increase in the earth;
22 That mine everlasting covenant might be established;
23 That the fulness of my gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the world, and before kings and rulers.

I emphasized the "weak and simple" and said that I do not have to be a perfect person, nor live up to Elder A's standard of perfection in order to proclaim the gospel. I only had to give all that I am and the Lord would make up the rest.

That night we came to a kind of a truce. He agreed to stop contradicting me in every decision and we both agreed to do the work we needed to do.

In the weeks leading up to this confrontation I had often wondered why this Elder was on a mission. He barely knew the doctrine, he did not get along with other missionaries. His first companion had apparently hated so much that he had to be moved in an emergency transfer (I hear physical violence was involved). Elder A took just about every thought and twisted it around in such a way that it made me wonder just how much lead paint he had licked as a child. I could not understand why he was not sent home. He was confrontational, irrational, had broken just about every mission rule possible without actually breaking any commandments. In my mind it made no sense to keep him there in the mission field.

So I began to pray.

I prayed and asked to know why Elder A was still on a mission and had not been sent home already. The answer came not all at once but through a series of revelatory experiences and through the gift of discernment such that I learned things I could never have learned any other way.

Elder A had grown up in a very poor neighborhood in an especially poor South American country. For the first 10 or 12 years of his life he had lived in a mud hut with a cardboard roof (a kind of very stiff paperboard coated in tar to make it water repellent). When he was an early teen his family had managed to get a free house in a government housing block. It had two rooms and was made of very basic kiln fired building blocks. He never got far in school but his family had joined the Church and he had gone on a mission out of genuine desire to give back to the Lord for what the Lord had given him. His family was too poor to provide any help so the full time Elders in his branch had provided shirts, pants and shoes so that he could go on a mission. Our monthly stipend that we got (at that time was ~550 pesos or ~$200) was more money than he would typically make in six months. He had never felt so rich in his entire life. He had never been able to afford the food he was now eating. He relished in the the sense that he could talk and people would listen to him because his entire life he was poor and no one listens to the poor.

All this power and wealth went a little to his head. When our mission president had told him that he needed to follow the rules or be sent home, he may as well have told Elder A that he would be cast into hell for all eternity because it had the same effect. That's when he became my companion.

Over the next few weeks there were minor incidents where the spirit nudged me and said, "Look. That is why he wasn't sent home." There were little things that happened that may seem minor to our understanding but were great in the sight of God. Because of my personality there are people who I would have a hard time talking to about the gospel. There are people who would have a hard time talking to me about anything for that matter. If there is someone in my area that cannot hear the gospel because their personality does not match mine that is OK because somewhere in the mission there is usually another Elder or Sister who can reach them and, when the time is right, the Lord will rotate those missionaries in and put them in contact with those people.

With Elder A there were people who were very special or very unique who would have a hard time hearing the gospel from any other missionary. But Elder A was just the right person at the right time to contact a few very specific people, people who did not join the Church as far as I know, but in the eternal scheme of things they needed their chance to hear the gospel.

After several weeks of observing and learning I was praying one night about my companion when I got the distinct impression and received a clear answer to my prayer. It said, "He is mine. I will do with him as seemeth me good. He is a tool in my hand and as long as he is here I will use him to do my work. He is not perfect but neither is anyone else. I know my servants and I know how to use all my servants in the way that is best for them. I will do the same for him as I will do for you. For all who will be my servants, I will use. My knowledge is sufficient that I can do my own work, even with the weak and simple things of the earth. Remember,

9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.
10 For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater:
11 So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.
12 For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
13 Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree: and it shall be to the Lord for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.

"My servants are my own and I shall not lose them, and they will do my work."

From this I learned to trust in the Lord, because He knows so much more than we do. After that I was perhaps the only one in the entire mission who had anything good to say about Elder A. I began to see him as God saw him and it changed everything I knew about him. There were so many other missionaries who wanted to offer their negative assessment but from that time on I always strived to say only good things about him when talking to other missionaries. I think I had more good to say about him than my mission president (sometimes I wonder if my mission president understood why he never sent Elder A home). I don't know if anyone noticed that I only had good things to say about Elder A but I know that God noticed. And he thanked me for it.

Stories from My Mission: "La paciencia es la ciencia de la paz."

When I was in the city of Eldorado in Misiones I met a wise old farmer who once shared with me a tidbit of wisdom that has stuck with me ever since.

"La paciencia es la ciencia de la paz."

Literally this means, "Patience is the science of peace." But it has a much better ring to it when you say it in Spanish.

Stories from My Mission: "It seems you have a lot of doubts"

This experience comes from my first area in the town of Bella Vista, Corrientes. I was with my second companion Elder Bullock (we also happened to have graduated from the same high school). One day while out tracting we ran into a man who did not seem interested in talking to us at that time but was very enthusiastic about us coming back later that evening. Because we didn't have anything else that evening we agreed.

A few hours later we arrived at his house and he was still eager to talk to us, and demonstrated his interest by bringing out a few books to use in the discussion. In retrospect I don't think any first discussion I had on my mission ever went well when the person was excited to talk to us. The discussion started like just about any other discussion. We talked about the Church and Joseph Smith. At one point we read a scripture from the Bible and the guy asked if he could see my companion's Bible. As missionaries we were aware of the common criticism against the Church that we use a different Bible (we don't, at the time we used the Reina-Valera 1960 version) so my companion handed over his Bible so the man could see for himself that we have a standard Bible.

The man quickly took the Bible, opened his own and began to compare the title page of his Bible to ours. He began counting the number of books and because he was comparing our Protestant derived Bibles to his Catholic Bible he came up with a different number of books (seven to be exact). Whereupon he handed back my companion's Bible and declared that it was wrong because it was incomplete. To which my companion replied, "Oh really? Do you know which books my Bible is missing?"

"No." he replied.

"Do you know what is in the books that your Catholic Bible has that mine doesn't?"

"No." again was the reply.

"Then how do you know that our Bibles are wrong?"

"But your Bibles don't have the correct number of books!"

"But if you don't know what is in those extra seven books then how do you know that we are actually leaving out something important?"

Realizing that this line of attack wasn't getting him anywhere and that it was actually demonstrating his ignorance rather than ours he switched tactics. He changed the topic by bringing up polygamy. He said that we could not be Christian since we practiced polygamy. My companion assured him that we do not currently practice polygamy. The man insisted that we still do practice polygamy.

Intrigued my companion asked where he was getting his information. At this point he pulled out a little book from his stack of books. Essentially it was a primer on different religions written from a Catholic perspective. The section on Mormons was, shall we say, severely lacking in logic and relevant factual information. He read us a few paragraphs from his book and in that selection he read a quote that essentially stated something to the effect, "There are X number of polygamists living in Utah. Of the people in the state Y% are Mormons. Therefore Mormons still practice polygamy."

Even at the tender age of 19, without ever taking a class on logic, I knew this was bad logic. I pointed this out to him and he became defensive. My companion, a bit amused at his lack of logical rigor, asked where his book got the quote from. He said something that neither one of us could understand. He read the source again from the book but we couldn't make out what he was saying. I asked to see the book and he handed it over. I found the quote and read the source. It was from the Ladies Home Journal, from the 1920's or 30's. At this point my companion laughed out loud much to the confusion of the man we were talking to. My companion had to explain what the Ladies Home Journal was to him (I think my companion called it "Chisme de las mujeras." "Ladies gossip."). Our adversary was beginning to realize that he probably hadn't picked the best resource for a gospel fight. He was about to learn that he was seriously spiritually out gunned.

We went back and forth for a bit but we realized that we weren't getting anywhere. He offered a few more arguments, but eventually his arguments devolved into general objections against religion and not just our religion in particular. He was also realizing that he actually didn't have any good arguments.

It was at this point that my companion commented and said, "It seems like you have a lot of doubts."

He hung his head slightly and admitted that there was a lot of things he had doubts about.

What followed was one of the most powerful testimonies I ever had the opportunity to hear on my mission. My companion leaned forward and said, "I know that what I believe is true. I know that what we have in the scriptures is the word of God. I have no doubt in my mind that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that he translated the Book of Mormon. There is no doubt in my mind about God and His Church on the earth. You may doubt but I have no doubts about what I know and your doubts and what you don't know can never change what I do know and what I don't doubt."

The man, struck by the forcefulness of my companion's testimony compared to the weakness of his own doubts quickly shot back and threw up a defensive wall of, "No! I actually do know things!" and "I don't have any doubts." But it was to no avail we both had heard him say in all honesty and sincerity that he was full of doubts. We wished him a good night and left.

Stories from My Mission: How I Knew the Book of Mormon Was True

I grew up in the Church which means I always remember going to church and hearing about the Book of Mormon. My family also had daily scripture study which mean that we would all sit together as a family and read at least a verse from the Book of Mormon. I learned about it in Sunday School and Seminary and it never entered my mind to ask whether or not the Book of Mormon was true. I never doubted that it was true or that it was anything other than it claimed to be so it never occurred to me to pray and ask if it were true. I might as well prayed to know if the sun was shining (considering I grew up in Arizona it is not something I would ever doubt).

For a good portion of my time growing up I got to hear the experiences and testimonies of young men and women who left on missions and then came back. I think there was a period of time when we averaged four or five mission farewells or homecomings every month. There were many, many return missionaries who talked about how they learned that the Book of Mormon was true. Some had very powerful life changing experiences that they related to us. Some had experiences that lasted an entire night. Others told how it happened very suddenly and could point to a specific time when they "knew".

Despite all of these stories I never had had a similar experience nor had a specifically looked for it to happen. I never thought about it because why would I ask about something that was as obvious as the sun?

When it came time for me to put in my mission papers I was just starting at BYU. I had had plenty of spiritual experiences in my life. There was a lot that I knew as a matter of fact and faith, but I had never attempted to pray to ask if the Book of Mormon was true.

After I entered the MTC I was submersed in a climate of faith and spirituality. It permeated everything we did. Everything we did became an extension of our faith. Everything, from our meals, to our sleep, to our service, to our exercise, to our learning was focused on faith and spiritual knowledge. We spoke it, we cried, we bore testimony. There was nothing that we did that was not infused with the spirit. It was at that time that many of the missionaries around me began to talk about how they had prayed to know if the Book of Mormon was true and had received an answer. It was something mentioned in our language classes. It was mentioned in church, in testimony meetings, in devotionals, in choir practice. Everywhere we were reminded that we were to bear testimony of the the Book of Mormon and that we could not do that if we did not have a testimony ourselves of whether or not it was true.

I think at the time there were several Elders in my district who had had powerful experiences while in the MTC and told the rest of us about their experiences. Even though I participated in the testimony meetings and added my voice to theirs in witnessing that the Book of Mormon was true I had never prayed to know if it was true. I had never had a powerful experience confirming the truth of the Book of Mormon to me. I had never had my "Alma moment" as it were.

The more I thought about it the more I thought that I should ask God whether or not the Book of Mormon was true. But why would I ask about something that seemed so obvious? I wrestled with this uncertainty for a while (about two days, I tend to be indecisive) before one night I decided to pray to ask God if the Book of Mormon was true. I knew the pattern, I had to read it (check). I had to ponder about it (check). I had to remember how merciful the Lord had been (check). And then I had to ask.

After reviewing Moroni 10:3-5 again I knelt down and prayed to know if the Book of Mormon was true. Immediately I got my answer. God said, "What are you asking me for?!? You already know it is true!!

Immediately I felt silly for giving in to the "need to ask" mentality. I had always known it to be true so I never had to ask. I did not have to ask about something that I never doubted.

Since then the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon has been demonstrated to me in a multitude of ways. I have learned more than I ever thought I could and I learned things that I was not even aware that I did not know or understand. What God was trying to teach me is that I do not have to return to the same things that I already know but that He wants me to inquire after things that I don't know so that He can teach me. Line upon line, precept upon precept. I also learned that when we pray God will answer us in the language that we understand. He knows us so well that He can answer us in the way that will have the most impact and meaning to us. He would not say the same thing to others who ask but He said it to me because He knew that I would know and understand. That is the way of God and the voice of the Spirit that we must learn to recognize.

Stories from My Mission: "Just imagine how they would behave if you weren't a member of the church!"

In my last area of my mission I got to know a particular member family fairly well. They were one of the few very active families in the ward (yes! a ward! the only one I had in my entire mission) and we could rely on them to always be at church and not have to worry about them getting offended because someone looked at them cross eyed and never coming back to church.

One day I decided that we should pass by their house. We had not seen them at church on Sunday so I had a brief thought to pass by and see how they were doing. At the time I thought I was just being lazy and we didn't have anything better to do so I thought, "Well we'll just go stop by to kill some time." Little did I know that our visit would help the family. When we got to their house we could tell that not everything was familial love and peace at home. There was yelling and much commotion. I wondered if we should just walk on by without stopping but we did stop and stood at the gate and clapped. No one immediately answered our call but soon some of the younger children (early teens to pre-teen) came out of the house. Let's just say that there were some uncharitable words exchanged in front of us quickly followed by some physical violence, immediately followed by extended yelling.

The children went back into the house, and we could hear some more commotion coming from the house including general punishments being given out by the mother. At this point one of the older children came out and with a rather embarrassed look on her face asked what we wanted. I told her that we were just stopping by to see how they were doing. She gave me an icy glare that said, "Can't you tell? What are you deaf and dumb (not mute)?" Trying to suppress a smile I asked with a slight hint of sarcasm in my voice if there were a more convenient time for us to stop by. Again she gave me an icy glare through her embarrassment and told us that we could stop by later that evening. I told her that we would and then said goodbye.

Later that evening we did return to a much more peaceful house and a few less embarrassed and icy glares. We sat down with the mother and her two oldest daughters (one of whom was the one who tried to burn me away with her icy glare). The mother was slightly embarrassed that we had to witness the "dysfunction" of her family. She told us that she tried so hard to make her children behave but they never seemed to listen to her. At this point I asked about their absence from church on Sunday and she said that it had rained very hard the day before (it had) and the roads were extremely muddy (they were) and they had overslept (church is at 9 am) so they didn't really have the motivation to get to church.

I also asked if they were having family scripture study and prayer. She said that they tried but the past two weeks they had been a little vago (lazy) about it. I asked about family home evening and again she said that they had not had it for two or three weeks and at this point one of the daughters stopped me and said, "And that is why we were fighting! We weren't doing any of those things!"

But her mother then said, "I try so hard to teach them to behave, and in the church we are taught to teach our children to behave but it seems like they never listen and they never learn! Don't you agree Elder? They are some of the worst behaved children at church! I thought that going to church and living the gospel would teach them to not fight and to behave but they can't learn anything! That is why we joined the church in the first place, but they can't behave! Don't you agree Elder!?! They just behave like savages!"

So here I was in a friendly predicament, on the one had I had to agree with the mother her kids were quite a rowdy bunch. On the other hand I had her two oldest daughters there (aged 21 and 18 I think) and I couldn't just readily agree with the mother that they were a bunch of savages with her daughters there with both of them looking like hungry wolves ready to pounce on me if I agreed with their mother's sentiment that they were a bunch of savages. So that is when I hit on a brilliant way out of this predicament.

I said, "If you think about how bad they behave now, just image how bad they would behave if you weren't a member of the church!"

The eldest daughter looked at me and laughed and said, "Ah! You are very intelligent Elder!"

I had successfully agreed with the mother while at the same time praising the children for being better than they could be. We all laughed and the mother commented about how it was true what I said. She said that they had let many of the things they normally do, such as family prayer and family home evening and because of that contention and animosity quickly entered their home.

The next Sunday they were all back at church, the kids were wiggly and noisy, but still reverent and they were all getting along and there was obvious love in their family. They were back into their routine of family prayer, scripture study and church attendance. The children weren't perfect but they were better than they could have been.

This is one of the experiences that taught me that the gospel does not make us better than other people, but it does make us better than ourselves.

Stories from My Mission: The Spirit Leads Me to People

I was in my first area of my mission in Bella Vista with my mission trainer, Elder Tenny, when I had my first experience with being lead by the spirit to find someone who needed to hear the gospel. This was not the first time that my companion and I were lead to find someone but this was the first time that the spirit worked through me and not my companion. I don't remember how long I had been on my mission but it was probably about 10 weeks into my mission.

We were having a hard time finding people to talk to and a number of appointments "fadged" us. ("fadge" is a Spanish speaking American missionary slag word that comes from the Spanish word "fallar", which means "to fail" or "to let somebody down". In Argentina the double l (ll) is pronounced with a strong "-sh" sound so it would sound like "fashar" and when someone didn't keep an appointment that we made we would say "nos falló". That word, "falló", got corrupted by American missionaries and we would say "Someone 'falled' us" which, if you remember the double l has a "-sh" sound so it would sound like "fash-ed" or "fadged".)  If I remember correctly we had something like 20 appointments fadge in one week, so we were feeling a little down.

One morning I was thinking and praying about what to do and I looked over at a big map of Bella Vista we had on the wall of our apartment and I started thinking about where we could go to find people. While looking at the map I had a strong impression that there was a specific place on the map where we should try tracting. I remember two streets standing out in my mind and where they crossed I felt that we should go even though I had never been there nor even walked down either street. I was unsure if I really had the impression so in my mind I rephrased my question and I again felt that we should focus on a specific corner where the two roads crossed. I looked at the map and considered that specific block where I had the impression that we should go and in my mind I asked if we should focus on that entire block or on the two streets and where they crossed.

The answer came back that it was that block specifically but that one corner of it was the place that we should go. To make sure I again asked in my mind if that was the place where we should go and I even asked about the surrounding area and about the rest of the block. The spirit again impressed on me the importance of those two specific streets and where they crossed and it even indicated the exact spot on the block where we should go. By this time I was convinced that that is where we were supposed to go so I pulled out my small copy of the city map that I kept in my pocket and noted the place and then continued getting ready for the day.

We had one person that we wanted to try and visit that morning so we went there first, but they were not home. We tried clapping at a few houses but no one was home. At this point Elder Tenny looked at me and asked it I had any ideas. I had not told him about the impression I had that morning but I pulled out my map and recalled where the spirit had indicated. I again considered the location and wondered if we should focus on the entire block or just on the one corner. Again the spirit indicated that we should go to the corner it had indicated before.

I pointed out the location on the map to Elder Tenny and said that we should go there. I was still mostly unfamiliar with the area so I really didn't know the best route to get from where we were to where we needed to go. When I pointed to the spot on the map Elder Tenny said "OK" and headed out. I think by that time he was discouraged enough that when his junior companion pointed out a seemingly random location on the map he didn't ask any questions. I just told him that we should go to that specific city block (it turned out to be a bit of a walk, about 1 km from where we were).

After walking for a while we came to the block that I had indicated to Elder Tenny. He pointed it out but I realized that we were at the wrong corner of the block, we still needed to go one street over to the next corner. Because I still wanted to see if the impression I had was correct I said we could try starting at the nearest corner of the block even though the spirit had indicated to me that we should go to the next corner. We clapped at the house on the corner but no one answered. Elder Tenny was still rather discouraged and probably would have given up on the seemingly random suggestions from his junior companion. After no one answered our clap I pulled out my map again and again the spirit confirmed that we were at the correct block but the wrong corner.

I told Elder Tenny that we needed to go to the next corner and he acquiesced without a comment and we walked down to the other corner. At the corner I again asked in my mind if this is where we were supposed to be. Again the spirit indicated the same as it had done before. We went over to the first house and clapped. A young man came out and we talked for a while and explained who we were. He seemed interested in our message so he agreed to have us come back. At the second house a middle aged man answered and again we talked for a while and he agreed to listen to us so we set another appointment. At the third house a women with a few small children answered. We talked for a while and she told us that she would like to talk to us, but that she would be at her parents house for the next few days in a place called barrio EPAM. Because it was a place where we would go about once a week we agreed to stop by.

The next house there was a man who came to the door. We talked briefly and he agreed that we could come back later and talk to him. We had spent an entire week with little success and in less than an hour we had met, talked to and set appointments with four new people all in a row. After the fourth house there were no more houses on that side of the street. My companion newly energized by our string of "good luck" decided that we needed to cross the street and keep going. I knew that it was pointless because the spirit had instructed me to only go that one corner and after the fourth house it told me that we were done. We tried clapping a few more houses in the area but no one wanted to talk to us.

Of the four people that we found that day we never were able to find two of them after that. The young mother we talked to was one of the people we never saw again, but we did pass by her parent's house a few days later and talked to them. They listened to a few discussions but were never very interested. The only member of their family who would talk to us was their teenage daughter, who was one of the most intelligent people I ever met in the area. More than anyone else she was willing to read and study the Book of Mormon. She had a sharp mind and over the next few months with my new companion Elder Bullock we had some of the most intellectually stimulating conversations that I ever had on my mission.

When some of the members found out that we were teaching her they were very surprised because she was known as the "popular, but dumb" girl in their high school (think ditzy cheerleader). They had no idea that she was actually very smart. She managed to read through almost the entire Book of Mormon in a few months. We taught her for a few months until one day we passed by her house and her parents informed us that she had run away to Buenos Aires with her boyfriend. She had not even bothered to stay and finish high school. I never found out what happened to her, but I know that through a unique chain of events that started with a prompting to go to a specific street corner we were supposed to meet her and teach her about the gospel and about the Church.

I don't know if any thing ever came of the other people that we talked to that day, but I do know that I was lead very specifically to that location. I would use the feelings and promptings that I had that day as a reference throughout my mission when ever I was prompted to find people. It was something that happened many times on my mission, and that is where I first learned to listen to those promptings.

Stories from my Mission: "I know you want some money."

In my last area in the city of Barranqueras one day we were clapping houses on a random street when we got to a house where there were an unusual number of dogs. After we clapped at the front gate a man came to the door and greeted us (along with all his dogs). We quickly explained who we were and said that we were sharing a message about Jesus Christ. He noticed the Book of Mormon that I had in my hand and asked if that was the book that we were selling. I informed him that we were not selling the book but if he would like to read it then we would let him have it for free.

He continued on as if I had not said anything and explained that he could not buy our book today because he didn't have any money right then (he explained that he had spent all his money on food for the dogs, apparently he had taken it upon himself to take care of all the strays in the neighborhood). I again told him that we were not selling anything and that he could have a book or a pamphlet for free and that we would never demand payment. He looked at us and said, "I know you want some money. I know how this works."

I again protested and said that we were not selling anything and we would not ask for money. We only wanted to talk to him about Jesus Christ and tell him about the Book of Mormon. He responded by saying, "I know you have your quota to fill and you have to sell a certain number of books. That is just what you do."

My companion asked him if he was getting us confused with the Jehovah's Witnesses and he said that he knew we were not the same people and that he had seen us pass by several times. We tried to explain a little more about what we did and our basic message, but he again insisted that he would not buy our book. We again told him that we were not trying to sell anything and that we were giving the Book of Mormon away for free.

He looked at us and with a slightly exasperated tone in his voice he again told us that he wouldn't buy our book and that he knew that we were just here talking to him because we were getting paid to do it. At this point my companion was also getting a little frustrated and he told him quite bluntly that we would never ask him to pay for anything, nor are we getting paid to do what we do. He interrupted my companion to ask him how much we were getting paid, to which my companion said that WE were PAYING to be here, we did not receive any money for our work.

The man responded by saying, "Oh you may not be paid right now but when you go home you will be given a position in your church where you will be paid. That is how it works, I know."

I told him that we did not get paid for our work and we would never be paid for our work and that the leaders in our church do not receive any money for their work. The man looked at us like we were stupid and said, "You have to get paid or have some guarantee of a future position where you are paid or you would never do what you do."

My companion looked at the man and said, "How can we explain to you that we do this because we want to and not because we are paid? We will give you a book for free and not ask for any money. We will talk to you and explain to you our message, and we will never ask for money."

To which the man responded, "You are planning on getting paid or of having some position in your church because of what you are doing. There is always money involved. It's always about money. I know you want some money for that book."

My companion, now thoroughly fed up with the man said, "If you really want to pay us for the book then you can give us 2 pesos [about $0.70] but we will give it to you for free."

At that point the man said, "See I knew you would ask for money! It's always about money."

We said goodbye and wished him and his 37 dogs a good day and continued on. We walked down the street and at the corner we paused to marvel at the man that we had just talked to. We concluded that he was just really off his rocker.

As I thought about that man I realized that I had actually met many more people like him. They may not have been as extreme in their view that it is always about money, but there were many people who for them everything was about money. They may not have been as fixated on money as that man was but still there was always this undercurrent in all they said and did that everything in life was about money. Everything.

There were people who were members of the Church who always seemed to find fault with the branch president or with other church leaders. When I asked them what was wrong and why they had problems with the church leaders they were always slightly evasive, but at some point in the conversation it would always boil down to money. Basically they would look for anything in the actions or manners of the branch president or bishop to complain about because he got to hold the tithing money and he got to disperse the tithing funds and fast offerings. They hungered after money, even if they only got to hold it. For them money was the purpose of existence and because it was their motivation in all things they assumed that it was the same for everyone.

For those who were fixated on money (let's call them money fixers) they could not conceive that anyone else would be motivated by anything other than money. To the money fixers it didn't make sense that we would give a book away for free or that we would not only not be paid as missionaries but that we would pay to be there. We may as well as told him that we were fish swimming in the ocean.

The reason why I thought of this experience is because I recently came across a blog of someone who has recently been excommunicated from the Church. In his blog he spends an inordinate amount of time discussing the scriptures and gospel topics. Based on what he has written it may be hard to understand why he was excommunicated. Several people have expressed disbelief that such a "spiritual man" would be excommunicated. But in a recent blog post of his I noticed a major red flag that makes me suspect that he is fixated on money.

He stated that the only reason why the Church was building temples was to increase tithing revenue. He said that the church leaders were taking a business approach to everything and were planning all temple construction around maximizing tithing revenue. For him it was all about money. There could be no other explanation, for why else would we build temples if not to drive tithing revenue? Like the man I met in Argentina because he assumed that everything the church leaders did was about money there is no argument, statement or fact that could convince him otherwise. Just like the line from the Simon and Garfunkel song The Boxer "Still, a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest."

Stories from My Mission: I Enter the MTC

So this story isn't strictly from my mission, but is about the few days right before I entered the Missionary Training Center (MTC).

The actual act of entering the MTC is the ultimate step before you are really committed to being on a mission. Even though the missionaries are set apart usually the day before, or perhaps sooner, and are thus technically missionaries, it is not until they enter the MTC that there is a real feeling of being on a mission. It is an almost indescribable feeling. For all missionaries there are always the last minute things ("Did I pack everything that I need?", "Do I have all my shots?" etc.) and it was the same with me except my last few days were perhaps more hectic than most other missionaries.

At the time I was attending my first semester at BYU and when I submitted my papers to go on a mission I set my availability date at the end of my first semester after finals were done. But when I got my mission call my entry date into the MTC was Dec. 19th, which was a Wednesday, in the middle of finals, and before my listed availability date. Finals week started on Monday of that week and went through Friday. I had 5 classes, with one final scheduled for each day of the week. This meant that my entry into the MTC would conflict with 3 of my 5 finals. Fortunately I was at BYU and all when I explained my predicament to my professors all of them were willing to reschedule my finals.

So from Monday to Wednesday this was what I did.

Monday:

Take geology final first thing in the morning (note: On the syllabus they were quite clear that the final could not be rescheduled for any reason. They were adamant that the final had to be taken at the scheduled time. When I asked my professor about it he was unsure about it (it was a department final) but after asking the department he told me that the final was in the testing center and I could take it any time during finals week. Thus the claim that the final could not be rescheduled for any reason was completely false...grrr).

Second, take mission prep final (This class was with out question the second worst class that I took at BYU. The teacher was a marriage counselor in his day job and thus he kept turning it into a "marriage prep" class rather than mission prep. But he never actually went the full marriage prep route and it just turned into this mish-mash of wobbly warm-ish fuzzy-ish sentimental-ish "take that and stick it in your spiritual pipe and smoke it", hodge-podge of useless goop. I was not a fan, and I think I got a C.)

Third, take my astronomy final from 2-5pm (Dr. Jones who taught the class told me, after I finished the final and he took a moment to chat with me, that I should look him up after my mission and he would get me a job as an astronomy TA. I did and he did manage to find me 2-3 hours a week as an astronomy TA, which may not have been much but that meant that the next semester when I applied for a normal physics TA position I was already technically an employee of the department which meant that I was automatically hired, despite the fact that I had 1 less year of experience than all the other TAs, and it meant that I was the TA for physics majors that were in the same classes that I was in (or higher classes!) but it meant that I got 4 solid years of TA experience under my belt in just about every class, which greatly benefits be now as it has put me in a position where I have 4 more years of experience than all the other graduate students which means I get first pick of TA assignments. Rather than being told what I have to teach I get to choose what I get to teach, and that is nice).

Tuesday:

In the morning I took my biology final, for my first, last and only biology class that I ever took in my entire academic career.

In the afternoon I took my physics 121 final. Looking back I don't think I did as well on it as I should but I wasn't too worried since I calculated it out and determined that in order to drop my grade for the class from an A to an A- I needed to get below a 30%. In order to get a B+ I had to score below 5% on the final, and if I just showed up and wrote my name on the answer sheet I would be guaranteed a B+ in the class. This was of course after having used the class as my guaranteed 3 hours of sleep each week and not turning in more than 3 homework assignments. I always wondered about those "engineers" who failed the class. Wouldn't they rather go into business? But what did I care? They dragged the curve down and gave me the easiest A that I ever got.

I finished my last final at 4 pm. I went directly from there to the BYU bookstore and there I bought the sound track to the movie Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? The movie was quite forgettable, but the music is still some of my favorite. I went out to my car, put in the CD, and drove around for a little under an hour listening to the music. Then I drove over to my brother's apartment, got changed into my new suit, walked up to the JKHB (which technically no longer exists) and at 5 pm I went in for my final interview and got set apart as a missionary.

I spent the night at my sister's apartment and then Wednesday morning my parents took me over to BYU one last time to say goodbye to my sister and brother in law and then up to the MTC where another sister came with her two kids to see me off.

Can you tell which one is me? Hint, I don't have a pacifier in my mouth.

At the time I was still in the process of getting all of my required shots. There was one series of shots that required 3 shots spread over several months (a hepatitis vaccine if I remember) and I had the first two but had not gotten the third, so on the first day they went ahead and gave me the third and final dose. It turned out that 6 years later that incredibly minor event saved me a lot of trouble and red tape when I was trying to get into graduate school.

You see, in North Carolina where I am currently going to school, state law requires all students to be vaccinated. As a child I received all the standard vaccines and my mom kept a very accurate record of every shot I ever got. Unfortunately my mom is not a certified nurse, so even though the record was very accurate and complete, UNC would not accept that record. So I was facing the prospect of having to get every single shot again to satisfy the bureaucracy of UNC. All my "official" records were spread all over Arizona in who knows what doctor or government office and it would have been an incredibly hard task to track down all those records. But when I entered the MTC I had received one shot. And that one shot went on my record at the BYU health center, and that was the only nurse certified record that I had access to. So I went there to talk to a nurse and get that one record. While I was there I explained my predicament and asked how I might go about tracking down my record. She looked at the meticulous record that my mom had kept of every shot I ever received, and she thought about it for a second and then offered to enter all that information that my mom had kept over the years into the computer (she was only a certified nurse, and not a nurse practitioner, which meant that technically she was not allowed to do this, but she did it anyway). So she sat there and entered everything into the computer, put it all in my file and printed it out. She signed it (again, I think NC state law required the signature of a nurse practitioner but we were already up to our eye balls in "irregularities" and she didn't want to have to track down and explain to a nurse practitioner what was going on so she just did it).

The only reason why she was able to do that was because I had received that one shot on my first day in the MTC so I was already in the system and she just had to "amend" my file. UNC accepted my new file because it was on official health center letter head and had some sort of signature at the bottom, despite the fact that all the information came from the exact same source that they had strenuously told me was unacceptable.

In so many small ways my experience of entering the MTC was crazy and stressful, but there were the tiny things (me getting to talk to Dr. Jones about getting a job, and me getting a shot) that turned out to be tender mercies much later in my life. There were so many other things about my mission, the people I met, the companions I was with, and the areas I was in, I would have never had those opportunities had I not entered the MTC when I did. Even though from an outside perspective the timing may have been very inconvenient it did in fact make it so that so many things were timed just right during my mission and after my mission so that many opportunities were made available all because of when I went into the MTC.

It kind of made up for the fact that the day I went into the MTC was the same day that the first Lord of the Rings movie came out. But it was OK since I came home and was able to watch the first two in quick succession on DVD and then go see the third one in the theater. Well worth the wait.

Stories from My Mission: "You need to repent!"

I won't say where this story happened so that I can preserve the identity of those involved.

In my mission there was a senior couple, the Elder and Sister Wilcox, who were serving as missionaries. Shortly after they arrived Elder Wilcox was asked to serve as a counselor in the Mission Presidency. This meant that he would travel to the various District Conferences (like Stake Conferences) where the Mission President was unable to attend (we had about 15 districts in our mission). It was during one of these conferences that I was asked to accompany Elder Wilcox in an interview. He was not very proficient in Spanish and needed someone to translate for him.

The man Elder Wilcox was going to interview was someone who had been a member for many years but recently had been disfellowshipped. The purpose of the interview was to sort out the problems and to see if the man could return to full fellowship in the Church.

The interview began as a simple fact finding procedure, "So what is your story? When you were disfellowshipped by the District Presidency what were the reasons they told you? What have you done about it?" etc. According to this man's version of events, he was disfellowshipped for having a general disagreement with the local church leaders. Basically what it came down to was they, the church leaders, didn't like him, and he didn't like them so they told him that he couldn't use his priesthood and that he couldn't hold a calling.

Since I was only there as an interpreter and a facilitator I didn't have any say in the matter, and I will refrain from making any statement about who was right other than what Elder Wilcox ultimately decided.

To back up his case he said that he was a good man who did many good things. He said that he took care of his children, even those who were not strictly his children. He mentioned that before he met his wife she had worked as a prostitute and had three children from that. When he married her he took those children as his own and raised them accordingly. He was even sealed to them in the temple (which in this part of Argentina, to have a family like that who had been to the temple was very rare). He used this and other examples to make the case that he was a good man who tried to live within the covenants and commandments.

He then made the case that the District President was not so holy (they were neighbors). He related an experience where he said that he saw the District President beat one of his children in a rather harsh manner. He said that his being disfellowshipped was simply a result of the District President projecting his own sins and failing on him.

After listening to all of this, and after I made sure that Elder Wilcox had understood everything that had been said, Elder Wilcox paused, bowed his head as if in prayer or contemplation for a moment. Then he raised his head, looked the man in the eye and in flawless Spanish told the man, "You need to repent! The problem here is that you have not forgiven your wife! That is what you need to repent of!"

The man was rather taken back, because up until now this had all been about the dispute between him and the District President, but the thought that the real problem was one between this man and his wife had never occurred to him.

Elder Wilcox continued on and explained, "You have never forgiven your wife for the things she did before she met you. You said that she worked as a prostitute before she met you, and you said that you married her anyway. You said that you brought her to church, along with her children who were born of her prostitution, and that this made you a good man. She has been baptized, she has gone to the temple and wears the holy garment."

"The Lord has forgiven her her sins and remembers them no more. But you still remember them and you still think of her being defined by her past sins. You should not have mentioned them or even brought them up. You will not be forgiven until you humble yourself and never speak of her past sins any more. She has given them up, and the Lord has accepted her repentance. Now you need to accept her change of life."

When the man heard this he was left almost speechless. He said that no one had ever told him that. He didn't realize that his perception of his wife was having such a profound impact on him and how he viewed others. In a moment his entire demeanor changed. Whereas before he seemed to be inflated with pride and wounded pride as having been disfellowshipped, be was now immensely humble and contrite. It was as if in a moment all his pride was stripped away from him. He promised that he would forgive his wife, and that he would never again mention her past sins. The issue between him and the District President was not even mentioned again. Due to the force of the Spirit that accompanied Elder Wilcox's admonition he had experienced a sudden and dramatic change of heart.

Stories from My Mission: The Butcher Fist Bump

I thought I should share a some what shorter and lighter story after my last two.

In my first area of Bella Vista there were many things that I had to learn about Argentina. One of the minor things that I had to pick up was how butchers greeted people. Because they work with meat their hands are usually covered in meat juices, and everyone else's hands are well, covered in who knows what. So butchers don't shake hands. What they do instead is extend their hand in a fist are you are expected to grab their forearm just above the wrist and "shake" their hand.

The first time I met a butcher and he extended his closed fist to me I had no idea what I was supposed to do. So I did the only thing I could think of, I gave him a fist bump. My companion, Elder Tenny, busted up laughing and the butcher was very confused, and I had no idea what was going on. Elder Tenny thankfully took the time to explain to the butcher what I had done and to explain to me the proper way of "shaking hands" with a butcher. I still think my way is better.

Stories from My Mission: The things you don't tell your parents about. (Part 1)

I will go ahead and label this post "Part 1" since there were many things that happened to me on my mission that I, um, just didn't write home about. Not because I had done anything wrong, but there were just the little things that happened that I never told them because I really didn't want to make my parents worry about me. I have no idea how many of these stories I have. I did tell my parents some of my big stories, like being bitten by a dog, breaking my rib, or being robbed on the street, but there were all the other little stories that I didn't bother to write them about.

In my fourth area in the city of Eldorado I had one companion, Elder Caballero, who I was with for one transfer (before I was "emergency transferred" out of the area during a normal transfer, but that is another story. Wait, I don't think I ever told my parents about that one... I told them about my first emergency transfer that brought me to Eldorado, but I don't think I ever told them about why I had to leave Eldorado...oops. Anyway back to my normal story.) So, Elder Caballero was a very outspoken Paraguayan who always made it clear what he thought about things. In Paraguay they speak both Spanish and Guarani so he was obviously fluent in both. I on the other hand only knew how to say 5 or 6 words in Guarani, and two of them were "jagua piru" which means "skinny dog", so in other words, I knew nothing in Guarani. In the city of Eldorado about a third of the people were Paraguayans, and thus there were a lot of people who spoke Guarani.

One day after returning from a mission conference in Posadas, we were getting off the bus and my companion bumped into a woman as he was walking down the aisle of the bus. He turned towards her and said, "Excuse me." and then moved on and didn't think any more about what had happened. We were walking down the street about 2 hours later when a man approached us. All of the talking that happened next happened in Guarani so I didn't understand a word of it, but I could understand the man's tone. My companion explained afterwards what he had said.

We almost walked right past each other on the street but at the last moment the man turned and planted himself in front of my companion. He pointed his finger at my companion's chest and asked him if he was the one who had disrespected the woman on the bus. My companion was at first confused, but the man said that he remembered seeing my companion step on the woman's foot on the bus earlier. My companion said he was unaware of the fact that he had stepped on her foot but he said he was sorry about it. The man was not placated and continued to accuse him harshly with his finger now pointed directly at my companions face.

It was at this point that I noticed the ring on the man's finger. It was, shall we say, bone white and had a swastika carved into it. There was something about the man that was very unsettling. He continued to accuse my companion of "disrespecting" the woman and my companion continued to apologize profusely. The man was insisting that my companion would have to do something to satisfy her "wounded honor", and the general implication was that it would somehow involve a knife. My companion, Elder Caballero, who I had seen stand up to toughs on the street, listened to him talk big and would let nothing diminish his honor was obviously disturbed by the man's accusations and was trying to apologize and placate the man as best he could.

Eventually the man was satisfied with what ever my companion told him and with a parting warning he walked off. After the man left Elder Caballero explained to me what the man had said. My companion also told be about how in Paraguay someone's honor is a very serious thing, and to violate someone's honor could provoke serious consequences. My companion knew people who had been knifed over wounded honor (for example, my companion's full last name was Caballero-Ruiz Dias, but he only went by Caballero since another family in Paraguay had a blood feud with the Ruiz Dias family). So for my companion when the man accused him of dishonoring the woman on the bus, this was a very serious thing, especially considering the man's, um, shall we say, choice in jewelry. We were both a little shaken by the experience.

We explained what happened to our branch president. He was concerned but there was nothing he could do. We told our zone leader and mentioned it to the Elders in the mission office, they filed it away behind all the robbings, and kidnappings that happened in my mission (we averaged about one companionship per year was kidnapped/held hostage and robbed per year, which doesn't include all the street muggings at knife/gun point which happened every two or three months or so...something else I never mentioned to my parents...). Since there really wasn't much we could do we just chose to ignore it. Fortunately we never saw that man again.

Stories from My Mission: "She is in the twilight of her day of grace."

This story is perhaps a little more sensitive than most. Do not judge any of the people involved too harshly. The true nature of this story can only be understood if you have a truly eternal perspective of the nature of our existence, and of eternal progression. Also realize that what I write here is only a small part of what happened, thus be mindful of that when deciding whether the actions of everyone involved were justified or not. Some times I wonder about whether or not some of my actions were correct or not.

I will not say where or when this happened and I will try to keep it as anonymous as possible.

Sometime after arriving in my new area I met the family, which consisted of the mother, two daughters and a son. The two younger children, a boy and a girl, were already members of the Church but I only recall seeing them attend church a few times while I was in the area. I never found out anything about the father. The home situation was shall we say, less than ideal. The mother had health and mental issues which meant that she could not work very much, the eldest daughter had previously worked as a prostitute and had been forced to stop working due to her getting pregnant (and had been unwilling to get an abortion).

From what I could gather the family had been meeting off and on with the missionaries for about 5 or 6 years. The two youngest children had been baptized about a year before I got to the area, but the oldest daughter had not been baptized due to her profession, and the mother, well, that is the point of this story.

With my first companion we made a few visits to the family, but it was not until my second companion was in the area that things started to change. We were meeting more with the oldest daughter, partly because she was coming to the realization that her choice of profession was not a very good one and was making an honest effort to change, partly for her own sake but also because she realized that she didn't want her own child to grow up like her and viewed the Church as the best way of protecting her unborn child.

Every time we visited the mother would insist on telling us that she knew the Book of Mormon was the word of God and that Joseph Smith was his prophet, but when ever we asked her to come to church he answers would be evasive and inconsistent. We encouraged, prodded, cajoled, joked, exhorted and commanded, but she never came to church. Try as we might we couldn't get her to make the effort to come to sacrament meeting. She kept telling us that she knew she needed to get baptized and she even informed us that if she could get baptized then there were some things about her life that could get fixed.

There never was any indication that there were any major sins (i.e. prostitution, drugs, tobacco, alcohol, murder etc.) that prevented the mother from getting baptized so we were a bit baffled as to why she would never come to church. There always seemed to be some excuse (i.e. it rained, it was hot/cold, she was sick, her legs hurt, they had to go visit their cousin etc.).

During all of this I felt the need to keep visiting them. It was not a strong feeling or an impulsive feeling, just a gentle feeling that I should keep stopping by. All this came to a head when my third companion got to the area. Of my three companions in the area my second companion had the greatest rapport with the family. My third companion, not so much. After just a few weeks my companion was getting impatient with them and began making comments about how we shouldn't waste any more time visiting them. But I had seen how desperately the mother and daughter had wanted to change their lives and I just wanted to be there when they finally decided to take the first step.

I visited the family a few times with my new companion but I he was getting more and more impatient with them and with me. Things fell apart one night when we went to visit them and my companion insisted that we have some members there with us (getting members to help us out was not the easiest thing on my mission). This meant that we were late getting there and when we did arrive something about the family was very off. The eldest daughter was upset with us because we were late and yelled at us (with two Aaronic priesthood boys aged 14 and 16 who were with us, the only ones we could find on short notice).

After the yelling stopped the mother came out and was visibly upset with us, and while she spoke to us from her front porch she became more and more incoherent at some point she went back into her house, but didn't get very far when she was overcome by some type of epileptic seizure. I saw her start to seize up and I sprang into action. I dashed through the front door and with the help of her oldest daughter we got her sitting in a chair. Her convulsions were not very violent, but she was unable to speak. My companion, who had wanted nothing to do with the family, stayed outside even refusing to set foot in the house, even when I asked him to come help me give her a blessing. Because my companion was refusing to come in and I was unsure what to do I went ahead and placed my hands on her head and gave her a blessing.

I don't know what I was expecting, perhaps something miraculous, but instead she got worse. Again with the help of her daughter we were able to carry her into her room and lay her down on her bed. After a while her condition improved and she motioned to us to get a Book of Mormon that she kept on her bedside table. She took it and held it close to her chest and when she did that she seemed to calm down a bit more. After a while she was able to speak again and told me that when she gets bad she uses the Book of Mormon to calm her fits. She said that only the word of God could cure her of her ailment.

After making sure that she would be fine I exited the house and rejoined my companion, who had been standing outside, along with the two young men who were looking very awkward. As we walked away I told the two boys that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to talk about what had happened. I told them that it was OK to tell their parents but no one else. My companion didn't say anything until we got home. I don't remember what he said exactly but one thing he said was that he would never return to visit that house. This put me in a predicament because I suddenly felt a stronger need to visit them again to resolve some things that came up. Not knowing what to do I contacted my zone leader to see what he had to say. He agreed to come to the area so that he and I could visit with the family so that he could make an assessment of the situation.

Approximately a week later my zone leader came to our area and I went with him to visit the family. He spoke to the mother and all the children. He asked about their desires to get baptized, or whether those who were baptized would come to church. There were no dramatics or apparent problems. He couldn't figure out why the mother wouldn't come to church, the eldest daughter on the other hand was about 7 months pregnant at that point and had a hard time making it all the way to church. After meeting with them he said that he didn't find anything majorly wrong with them, except for the fact that the mother who had spent 6 years meeting with the missionaries had never come to church, despite her insistence on knowing that it was true, and that it would help her.

Shortly after this the mother did make the trek all the way to church, but only after the meetings were all done and the only person there was the branch president and his one counselor. She came asking the branch president for a blessing and he obliged. Because I was not present at the time what happened next was told to me by the branch president. In the middle of giving her a blessing she entered into one of her fits. The branch president said that when this happened he felt something wrong with her, beyond the obvious medical or mental issues, and was given to know by the Spirit that she was possessed by an evil spirit. So right then and there he exorcised the evil spirit from her. She calmed down significantly after he did that.

After this happened he met with me and we discussed everything that had happened. After much discussion he decided to go with me, and me alone because my companion refused to go, to visit the family because both he and I felt it necessary. It was in this meeting that the branch president told me something about the mother that I had not known previously. Before meeting the missionaries and coming in contact with the Church the mother, but not any of her children, had attended a certain Assembly of God church in the city. This particular denomination was known by the missionaries, due to the number of run-ins that we had with its members and pastors. There seemed to be at least one of this particular strand of Pentecostal church in every area that I lived in and no one seemed to every have anything good to say about them.

While this church was affiliated with the Assemblies of God movement that started in the US in the early 1900's, the particular sub-denomination that the mother attended was of a variety that had started independently in Brazil. They were known for being more extreme in their displays of "being filled with the spirit" and "speaking in tongues" than all the other Assemblies of God churches. The branch president told me that he had heard very bad things about that church and that most of the people who had spent any amount of time there end up being very messed up. That is apparently what happened to the mother, and somewhere along the way she had become possessed.

Shortly after this I went with the branch president to visit the family so that he could make an assessment about how the two children who were members of the Church were doing and to get an idea of what the eldest daughter was like, and to meet with the mother again. We both knew that we needed to go. So I left my companion with another priesthood holder (he was still upset that I was going to visit the family) and went with the branch president to meet the family.

I had been thinking a great deal about what had been going on and I was wondering why I felt the need to keep visiting the family. While meeting the family with the branch president was uneventful as we left we were talking about the situation and wondering what to do. That is when I received the key insight about the whole situation and shared it with the branch president. I didn't have the proper words to say it in Spanish so I had to first ask the branch president for the proper word. What I told him was, "She is in the twilight of her day of grace." When I said this he turned and looked back at their house as we walked away and paused, nodded and expressed regret that we had to see this.

What we both realized is that the mother had been given many, many opportunities to accept the truth. But she had made conscious decisions that resulted in many of her problems. Because she continued to refuse to come to church, despite all her experiences, she was quickly approaching the end of her day of grace when she would have no more opportunities to accept Jesus Christ. Not in this life or the next. This was her last chance, and the reason why I was prompted to be there (along with the branch president after my companion refused to go) was to bear witness of the twilight of her day of grace. She never did come to church. He two youngest did start coming again after I left, but she never did.

Stories from My Mission: The Spirit of Discernment

This story is perhaps a little different from the others that I have so far shared. It is a little more personal and deals with the spirit of discernment. The spirit of discernment is one of the spiritual gifts listed in D&C 46 (actually more properly the discerning of spirits) which in my experience is the ability to discern the disposition and unspoken thoughts of any spirit, both embodied and disembodied spirits. It is a rare and powerful gift that should not be taken lightly.

This story took place in the city of Barranqueras, my last area of my mission. It was perhaps my second or third week in the area since I was just getting to know everything but I was not yet familiar with all of our investigators. There was one particular family that we had visited maybe once or twice, always very late in the evening when it was very dark out. In order to get to their house we would walk down the levee that kept the Río Paraná from flooding the city, and then just past the local soda pop bottling plant we would drop down into a very dark neighborhood (the same one where I later met and taught the local crime boss).

My companion had been teaching this family for some time before I got to the area, and when I arrived we had had one or two visits with a minimal amount of teaching. We then had a period of time where we could not find them at home because of illness and other things, until one day we managed to set a date to visit with them and have a real charla (missionary lesson). We arrived at their house at about 8:00 at night. The husband was finishing up something in the back room and said that he would be right out. We chatted with the wife and their kids for a few minutes while we were waiting for the husband to join us.

My companion was excited about this family since they were a complete family (with the parents actually, legally married, which was a rare thing in Argentina). They seemed like great people and I was happy that we had a complete family to teach. For my companion I think it was a point of pride that he had found and had spent so much time carefully teaching this family and that they were receptive to our message. He was hoping to extend to them that evening the offer to get baptized and was hoping for the best. I did not know them very well so I couldn't say one way or the other how they would react to the offer.

While we were waiting I remember sitting there at their kitchen table letting my companion do most of the talking not focusing much on anything. That is when I began to feel different. It felt almost like Déjà vu but without the feeling like I was remembering anything. It was more like I knew what was about to happen, and my sitting there listening to the conversation was like listening to and watching a replay of an event that I had already seen. I remember distinctly the husband coming into the kitchen and hesitating at the door way for a moment and then returning to check that he had actually turned off their washing machine in the back room before coming and sitting down with us.

As I sat there and looked at him I began to see what was about to happen. We chatted for a few minutes before my companion began the charla. I knew that it would not get far and indeed it was only three or four minutes before the discussion changed into something else. The husband was not vocally expressing any doubts and my companion still had great confidence that they wanted to get baptized. Even though I did not know them very well I could discern that they would not get baptized, and there was nothing that I could do about it. As my companion continued to talk and teach them it came to my turn to teach. At this point the feeling I had been having became even more intense to the point that I could discern everything in the room with perfect clarity. I still recall every detail of the room as it has been burned into my memory.

As I sat there with this intense feeling washing over me the conversation came into such sharp focus that in an instant I was able to discern the entirety of the conversation from the point that I began to speak to the point that we left the house. I knew everything that would be said before it was said. I knew the reactions of each person, including my companion. When it was my turn to teach I began by asking the husband what he thought about what we had been teaching him. He answered with a rather non-committal answer.

From this point on it was like I was merely reading a well rehearsed script rather than speaking to them. I knew the questions I would ask, and the answers that they would give. I knew their reactions, the reaction of my companion, what he would say to them and how they would respond. It was literally like watching a movie where I had already read the script. There were no surprises. There was no uncertainty. It happened just as I had seen it, down to the very last word.

In response to a further question the husband informed us that he was not really interested in continuing with our discussions. My companion made a plea to get him to change his mind. When my companion had exhausted all his options he looked at me. I continued with the script that I had already seen in my mind. To every question and comment the husband responded exactly word for word how I had seen it, and politely, but firmly turned us down. The wife also expressed her doubts but noted that she enjoyed discussing the scriptures with us. After a time we had nothing left to discuss so we said our goodbyes and we stepped out into the night.

I had only seen to the point where we left the house and that is where the spirit left me. It was a powerful and energizing feeling, but also one that took a lot of my stamina. As my companion and I walked along in silence, I marveling at the incredible and unique experience that I had just had, and my companion rather shocked and saddened by the rapid and unexpected change in their willingness to hear our message. After a while I felt that I should say something to my companion since he was on the verge of tears. Here was a family that he had invested so much time, effort and emotion in and they had just told him that they didn't want to hear our message any more. It must have been quite hard on my companion, and made harder by the fact that it was unexpected for him.

For me nothing that happened that night was unexpected. As we walked I tried to figure out if my companion had felt the same thing that I had felt. I asked him if he had any idea that we were about to get shut out. He said that he had no idea, that it was the most unexpected thing for him. I asked him if he had tried to notice or see anything (i.e. discern anything) when he look at the family. He looked at me like I wasn't making sense and asked if I wasn't as surprised as he was. I told him about my experience and about how I could clearly discern everything that was going to be said before it was said.

His reaction, at the time, surprised me. He got angry with me demanded to know how I could be so uncaring about what just happened. I didn't know how to explain to him that I did care about what had happened, but that it did not come a surprise. I again tried to tell him about my experience and how I had clearly experience the gift of discernment, but he would have none of it. He reacted with anger and accused me of being arrogant and unfeeling. I was just flabbergasted.

Now as I look back on the event I realize that the reason why my companion had not felt anything was because he had closed himself off from the idea that this family that he cared so much for were unwilling to listen to him. The Spirit could not get through to him to tell him what he needed to know so in the critical moment it revealed to me what was to happen so that I could be a part of it and witness the event, and give testimony of it because my companion would not. It was something that needed to happen, even though I have no idea why, and the Spirit needed me to know what was going to happen so that I could testify of what had happened. I pray that that was not the final chance for that husband and wife to accept the gospel.

I did go back another time with a different companion but there was never any more interest to talk about the gospel and our doctrine. The wife was kind and respectful but they had made their choice.