My Ventures in Jo’burg Town

January 2015 has been an interesting year thus far. Immediately after my endowments, I ventured in and out of Jo’burg town more times than I’d have liked and encountered a missionary opportunity while exercising patience with regards to a, now, investigator. The soaring high met a drowning low, but – through it all – my spirits kept strong.

This is how it went.

Once I had finished at the Temple, the missionaries wanted to eat out. We were to rely on the GPS on my phone, which wasn’t working. The highest point in Jo’burg, and my phone couldn’t find signal. So the missionaries led us out to a different location, in hopes of finding signal there. They took the slipway left, towards town, instead of going straight. We drove until Elder Broadhead decided, let us just go home. Needles to say, when the GPS finally loaded, it took us the route through town instead of the same way it took us to get there.

It was hot and my GPS kept recalculating. As the missionaries followed, I ended up taking the wrong off ramp, having to drive through town to get back onto the highway. On the highway, the GPS took me into a dead-end road. Fortunately we got to a place the missionaries recognised, so they took the lead.

We had lunch and they went teaching – they decided not to use my services as a ward missionary.

From there, I returned home to pack my bags and head out to my best friend’s house. Benjamin Bankart. He had just turned 21 – which we celebrated epically in Wilderness the week prior.

  

 

On my way to his house, my GPS (yes, I suck at directions, leave me alone) took me through Jo’burg town (Ben stays in Melville). The GPS lost signal countless times and kept recalculating. It was blistering hot (and no, my car did not have an aircon, just a fan which blew hot air) and anyone who knows Jo’burg knows that you cannot open your window. I was almost mugged three times (fortunately the lights went green just in time). On the bright side, one guy led me over a recently paved road I needed to get over, so I gave him 20 bucks for a drink or whatever. But the nightmare had just started.

My GPS sent me in circles, traffic was backed up, roads were blocked, and metro police pulled me over for a random car search. I finally got to a place I thought I knew, but still looked over to see where my GPS wanted me to turn… It was dead. My heart began to pound. How? It was on 56% I pulled over and plugged it into the car charger. Nothing. It began a cycle of turning on and dying before the main screen loaded. It looped. It was hot. Blistering hot.

I closed my eyes and began to pray.

My phone was dead and I knew there was no way for me to fix it. Not here, at least, and not now. So I began driving, not knowing where I was. I drove down every street corner, hoping to recognise something. I began singing hymns and praises, praying to God for guidance out of this. I couldn’t find my way to Ben’s place, much less return home to Alberton. What was happening? I had just come out from the Temple. Everything was supposed to be going well. I had just done good. I didn’t understand.

I continued to pray and found a man on a pizza delivery bike. “Melville Boulevard” it said. “Thank you, Father,” I uttered. I asked him to direct me to Ben’s house and he did one better; “Follow me,” he said.

The nightmare was over, I thought. We got to Ben’s house and I banged on the gate. I rang the bell and called out his name. Again, and again. The pizza delivery guy, Elvin (I believe), waited with me a couple of minutes before I struck up a conversation. “Do you go to Church?” Eventually I was able to learn of his desire to follow God and invited him to Church, telling him of the restored Gospel. He took down the address and thanked me – no phone.

Fifteen minutes had passed and Ben’s neighbour told me he wasn’t home. What?! How was he not home? He knew I was coming. His car was there. His door was open. I waited just over thirty minutes, praying and singing hymns from my new mini hymn book the Farquharsons had just bought for me.

My phone turned on. Just long enough for me to send Ben a message… and then it died. He came out and let me in.

His girlfriend, Priscilla, came over a few minutes later and we watched anime, searched the internet, chatted and played games. We ate ice cream, ordered Chinese food and watched some more anime. Priscilla went home and we continued before going to sleep at 22:45 that evening (surprisingly early, but then again I woke up at five and drove all over town).

The next day, Ben was kind enough to lend me his spare phone as a GPS before I headed out for Church. Johannesburg Chapel was the place of the weekend and Vincent was the investigator heading over to meet the Ward Mission Leader for the first time. There are no missionaries in Johannesburg (too dangerous). So let me tell you about Vincent before I continue.

I met Vincent at Jo’burg Gen, Wits Dental School, end July 2014. I was there to have my wisdoms removed for my mission papers (trust me, I wouldn’t have done it for any other reason). We were handed out a form to fill in, and I noticed the guy to my left, Vincent, did not have a pen to fill it in; I offered him mine. I then struck up a conversation, gave him a pass along card and an Articles of Faith card. For some reason, I chose the Gospel of Jesus Christ as the topic focus. At first, he kept trying to shrug away and wiggle himself out of the conversation. He couldn’t even bring himself to say Christ’s name. But I persisted, the Spirit prompted strongly and I could not deny it.

Eventually we reached the principle of repentance and I noticed him draw nearer. Our conversation took a complete turnaround. He began confiding in me, bordering on tears. He told me he felt unworthy of even having this conversation with me. Unworthy to even think Christ’s name. He told me he had sown bad seeds and that the scriptures tell us we will reap what we sow. He grew up as a Roman Catholic, but lost touch with God along the way. I then informed him of what the Spirit had just told me, that “Regardless of the crops we reap today, we still have the next season to sow better seeds than before. That is the miracle of repentance. We have the opportunity to turn around and go back to our Father in Heaven.”

It was a powerful spiritual experience, and as we spoke I learnt about his childhood, where he lives, his parents, grandparents, and even the path he had taken. He expressed joy for the message he had heard and said that he now felt worthy enough to repent, that he was grateful the opportunity existed. He then informed me that in our three hour conversation, he didn’t even think of smoking once, when normally he would have gone out at least five. Then, he told me, he was planning on mugging me, to take my phone and all the money I had on me. That he had done it before. He was just waiting for me to walk out of the Hospital, alone.

From this, a friendship enveloped. He stopped stealing and created his own goals to quit smoking and strive towards repentance. We stayed in touch, sent each other verses, called each other brothers. Unfortunately, missionaries had just been taken out of Johannesburg, the area where he stayed, so I couldn’t give him as a referral. I lived in Alberton at the time, so I couldn’t meet him oft.

But this year was the year. I got to Church for the eight o’clock service and waited for him, trying to direct him. I missed sacrament meeting and went into Gospel Principles and assisted in the lesson. I kept going in and out of Church grounds to see where he was, but still no success. The ten o’clock service was about to begin and I needed to go in to partake of the sacrament. The Ward Mission Leader from Johannesburg 2, the one who’d be teaching Vincent said that it’s impossible for someone to take 2 hours to find the Chapel, that he was just pulling my leg. Still, I persisted. Halfway through sacrament meeting, I phoned him back to find out where he was.

He made it! The patience pulled off. I introduced him to the Ward Mission Leader (after pulling him, the Ward Mission Leader, out of High Priest’s class) and we discussed how his teaching process would occur and when he’d be baptised (just prior, the Ward Mission Leader and I discussed an appropriate number of attendances to indicate commitment before baptism would be considered). The Ward Mission Leader then said, with all confidence, you should come to his baptism.

I took Vincent to the last few minutes of Johannesburg 1s sacrament meeting (after being mistaken for the missionary who’d be performing the baptismal interviews for them) and he said that he felt inspired and prompted to find means to make the Saviour a priority in his life, to help others and continue coming to Church. It was a powerful experience.

If all my efforts as a member from 8 December 2013 to now don’t pay off… If all my hard work, dedication and commitment to missionary work results in him being the only person I, personally, bring unto the fold… It’ll all be worth it.

There were trials that weekend, but if efforts in preventing me from going to Jo’burg that weekend are at all an indication, Vincent is going to be a powerful member. This must be Christ’s true Church and I must’ve been doing something right, otherwise the adversary would have no reason to fight so hard. I would do it again. My faith has been strengthened and I know God is in control.

The war that began at the foundation of the world is continuing today. The question we need to ask ourselves is, which side are we on?

It's the Waiting Game

It’s the waiting game. It’s the realisation that people are not infallible. And it’s the sudden bursts of fulfilment, then the extended periods of nothing. It’s called patience. It’s called trial. It’s called strength, perseverance; yes, it’s endurance.

When I joined the Church, I thought, “Finally… men and women with righteous standards.” I believed, as the true Church, that concerns with regards to behaviour and self-conduct would be far from my mind. Two months into my membership and that dream was shattered. My first YSA activity (a Valentine’s dance); what a let-down.

I went from an all-time high to an immediate low. From expecting wholesome entertainment to unveiling secret combinations. I found the ones who were just as bad as, if not worse than, the typical modern world. It ended up being a night about who’s did the worst thing. From starting fires (proudly), to drinking, smoking and getting tattoos. Topics of sex and images of half-dressed men and women filled the air. I didn’t know what to do.

I went home that night and thought, “What’s the point?” If LDS YSAs are exactly the same as every other young single adult, why even bother monitoring close-knit group of friends? They did say that hard decisions would need to be made with regards to my non-member friends and that it would be difficult, but beneficial for my development as a convert. But my friends held true to what THEY believed in. Even though our standards differed, they stood by theirs. Granted, they pushed at my newly developed standards. But let’s be fair, they were new. Of course it’d take time for them to settle in.

I took a long hard look at myself and went forward in prayer. It wasn’t long before I realised that my entire outlook was wrong. Not everyone is perfect; in fact, no man (and for those feminists out there, I mean woman as well) is perfect. And just because they grew up in the Church doesn’t mean anything. Just because someone is a member or not, living the Gospel or not, doesn’t mean I should filter them out. Because, at the end of the day, the walls I build won’t keep them out, they’ll just keep me in.

My salvation is my own responsibility. It doesn’t matter what they do. I just need to do what I need to do. I’m not here to judge anyone or to tell anyone how to live their life. I just need to realise that not everyone is the same. I need to realise that opposition will come and views will clash. The important thing is how I react to those situations.

Do I cast someone out? Dissociate myself? Or do I follow the council of the Holy One of Israel and “love thy neighbour”? You see, what you do is up to you, and what I do is up to me. I can either leave you and avoid association completely, or stick by you and grow as a person.

I remember The Gospel of Jesus Christ, which Nephi so clearly explains, and remind myself that it was (and is) the fifth point I was (and am) on; endurance. There was a recent convert I taught with the missionaries and he said that endurance was a synonym for survival. Maybe. No. It’s more than that. Endurance is the ability to continue unhindered, whereas survival implies some level of damage. Endurance is there to strengthen us, to build us, to encourage us and to keep us on that strait and narrow.

As Elder Tew pointed out, we are to endure well. As Elder McAllister pointed out, we are to joyfully endure. It puts a slight spin on things when we begin to realise exactly what it means to endure. To endure means to keep the commandments and continue as the Lord expects. Endurance may be the final step in The Gospel of Jesus Christ, but it’s also the most important. It’s the start of our journey with Christ and the end of our journey finding our testimony in Him. Now we know the truth. Now we are more liable than we were before.

What does that mean? It means that it is my responsibility to keep my second estate and love my “neighbour”. It means that, even if standards differ, I cannot judge. It means that it is my duty to be joyful, uplifting, encouraging, and caring, regardless of the situation. It is my responsibility to keep my friends and make new ones; regardless of their views or situation. And to stay true to my covenants all at the same time.

So I did. I kept my non-member friends, who talk to me about the Bible, listen to me when it comes to the Gospel, inform others of my standards, and check in on me with regards to my mission preparation. I made new friends (the one’s at the Valentine’s dance), who accompany me to every YSA activity, hug me when they see me, talk to me when I’m around, and get excited with me when I learn or do something new.

But then there are the moments where you don’t. The moments where the lessons seem to come slower and the realisations come to an end (or so they seem). It’s the long drawn out process of delays with mission papers, faltering steps with family and getting into the routine of being a ward missionary. It’s when you feel you aren’t learning anything and you feel as if things could just continue as they are.

But they can’t.

It’s times like this when I’m reminded of Christ’s teachings to the Nephites in 3 Nephi 12:3: “Yea, blessed are the poor in spirit who come unto me, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Unlike Matthew 5, 3 Nephi 12 elaborates more on what Christ taught. Here, it specifies that those who come unto Him, even though they are poor in Spirit, shall inherit the Kingdom of Heaven. It encourages us to keep doing the things we need to do, despite the absence of motivation and/or encouragement. It inspires us to continue, to press forward with steadfastness and hope, even a surety of the promised blessings to those who are faithful.

I know that Jesus is the Christ, that He is my Saviour and Redeemer, even yours. I know that trials are there to strengthen us and to build us. And I know that these moments of silence are there to test our loyalty to Him and to keep us moving when all things seem to be going awry. I can see another set of bursts awaiting as I receive my advancement, endowments and mission call in the month(s) to come.

I may feel drained and stagnated now, but there are lessons to be learnt. There is patience to be built and fostering of seeds planted to take place. These are the moments that define us the most and I’m honoured to know all this, to experience it (because that is why we came to earth after all… to experience the things we never could).