The Baptism of Eleanor Valentia King

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, existed a women; fierce in nature and short in stature. She had a tongue like none other and a determination that outshone them all. It wouldn’t be long before her path crossed the lines of smartly-dressed, God-fearing young men. Elders Broadhead and Martins were their names. It was then that her venture began, putting to test all that she had previously learnt of God.

Her curiosity peaked, and from lesson to lesson she asked questions. From lesson to lesson she took notes. One privileged, such as I, met with one such as her. Elder Martin left and Elder Wegrowski came. Together, the three of us taught her, as she faithfully searched. She came to Church, hopping an’ all, to see all that it had to offer. She took it all in and found the love, found the peace.

Today she stands as a living miracle, having forsaken habits of old through faith in her Redeemer and trusting her all to Him. Today, on the fifteenth of February 2015, she takes that step towards baptism, proclaiming to God and the saints that she is prepared to follow Him. Her journey has only begun, and only rich blessings are in store.

I am honoured to have been witness to this beautiful occasion, and to have been asked to be the one to take her into the water. I remember our discussion in Gospel Principles early one Sunday morning, when speaking of the Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthoods.

“Can you baptise?” she asked.

Elder Broadhead eavesdropping from his end of the room, nodding his head, “Jono can baptise you.”

“Really?” came her rolling R.

“Pray about it,” I told her, recounting how I’d come to choose Elder Tew as the one to baptise me.

It wasn’t long after, when the missionaries went over to teach her the Law of Chastity that she said, “I know who I want to baptise me. And I pray, from my mouth to God’s ears that you will be available that day.”

It’s truly a splendiferous, momentous occasion. She came to Church that Sunday, even today, smiling from ear-to-ear, butterflies in her stomach, and anxiously excited, awaiting what was to come.

The service opened with Brother Youngman reciting the schedule, followed by my talk on the Holy Ghost (strange, but effective), Elder Wegrowski’s musical item, Elder Broadhead’s talk on baptism, and then the moment we’d all been waiting for: dunking her under the water. No, no, I did not drown her. But there was enough water to do so.

I remember us walking in as she kept back, “There’s too much water here. I’m gonna be fully immersed just standing here.” She wasn’t.

Her testimony at the end of the service, however, was the highlight of the occasion. Her words were perfect, thanking Heavenly Father for everything that had happened, extremely grateful and filled with awe, filled with love, filled with emotion.

This was her day, and I pray – and trust – that it only gets better from hereon out.

I, Finally, Did It: I Went to the Temple

Early 2013, it was an interesting Sunday--a curious one indeed. I had just come to the realisation that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints existed and stumbled upon inklings of the Temple I’d soon come to haunt over… I had just met missionaries (of any sort) for the first time. I emphasise met, because it recently occurred to me that I had, in fact, seen missionaries once before - but that’s another story; one for another time.

Today’s story is more about the Temple, otherwise known as the House of the Lord, and my long waited journey to - finally - enter in. Yes, on the 10th of January 2015, this longwinded, overly analytical, secretly critical (okay, maybe not so much secretly, says my sister’s laughs; “Tell me another one,” she’d banter), research obsessed Latter-day Saint took his first steps into rooms otherwise restricted and felt the touch of the delicate holy garments for the first time. It was a morn to be remembered.

Let’s see, the day started out quite early - well, not really. I woke up at 05:00, jumped into the shower, suited up and waited for the missionaries to arrive at 06:00. I had scheduled for the nine o’clock session and needed to be in the Temple by 07:30 (and the Distribution Centre opened at 07:00). The plan was that I’d drive the three of us to the Temple to save on petrol (or gas, as the Americans call it), but for one reason or another they decided to follow in their car (something about the APs). Oh, and they weren’t allowed to give me a lift. Shrug. So I put the address for the Johannesburg South Africa Temple into the GPS and they (Elders Broadhead and Wegrowski) followed.

It took us down a route neither of us had been before and we arrived twenty three minutes later - as opposed to forty five minutes later, as expected. “Sometimes GPSs do come in handy,” I remarked, not realising the fatality to come (stay tuned).

And we were there. Myself… and the Elders, who were kind enough to escort me through the Temple my first time ‘round. See the minio-- I mean, men on the right.

We made our venture through the Temple grounds - with Elder Wegrowski’s continued comments on how small ‘twas - and took pictures along the way. I decided, since so many pictures of me existed (of which, I had practically none), to have the Elders take a couple of shots using my phone… I still don’t have any photos from that morning. The reason? Spoilers. Suffice to say, the Elders have pictures from that morning and I do not.

We went to the Distribution Centre as it opened and entered into the Temple earlier than arranged. I was greeted by a few Priesthood Holders and the Sister with whom I had made arrangements with. Don’t ask me about names-- that’s foreign territory. I remember their faces and our conversations, but names, now that’s something I’ve never been good at.

I gave Elder Broadhead his Escort tag, which I’m not entirely certain he wanted, but I wanted him there and he didn’t exactly say no; and, from there, we headed into my initiatories (a little early). My mind was blown. I sat there, as I waited, with the image before me of Moses giving blessings at an ancient Temple. Everything made sense.

“The Old Testament means something,” I said.

Elder Broadhead smiled. He and his companion were conversing over Utahan names with another American whose name eludes me now. They were well in their comfort zone, which was good, because my mind was racing. Everything I had read, everything I had studied, came pouring through. I saw, in my mind’s eye, the Tabernacle of Moses construct itself around us with the ancient prophets themselves walking through.

The awkward candid shot.

I think of the specifics, and how detailed they are, as the words echo through my mind once again. I felt the Spirit testify and truth resound. I felt the room fill as I moved along. One after the other, I was blown away.

Isaiah 62:2 was now mine - the meaning was clear and I felt new. As Meghan (a fellow YSA from my home ward) said, “It felt like Eragon. I finally have it.”

We went on to discuss other things which I cannot discuss, but I do remember - as it ended - Elder Broadhead taking the Doctrine & Covenants, showing me his favourite verse therein.

D&C 38:32 “Wherefore, for this cause I gave unto you the commandment that ye should go to the Ohio; and there I will give unto you my law; and there you shall be endowed with power from on high;”

Good verse. I also pointed out, “This isn’t Ohio.” and showed him my favourite.

D&C 95:8 “Yea, verily I say unto you, I gave unto you a commandment that you should build a house, in the which house I design to endow those whom I have chosen with power from on high;”

We moved to the Chapel where we went through hymns from a white hymn book and then read
scriptures as we waited. That was when Brother Farquharson came in. After some time I rose to greet Sister Farquharson. I was filled with glee. The only one missing was Dylan.

And then came the Endowment session. Never have I ever cried for a movie before, but this wasn’t just a movie. I felt touched by every word and questions I’d debated with missionaries, ones from other churches as well, were finally answered. EVERYTHING MADE SENSE. Everything fit in. My mind was whirling and my soul was soaring. I was blessed. I am blessed. I had the Farquharsons on my left and the missionaries on my right.

As I walked into the Celestial Room, I was greeted by Brother Farquharson (Kev) and Sister Farquharson (Shan). My soul was filled with so much joy. My spiritual family was there.

I won’t say much more, because it was a sacred, beautiful experience, but know that it has been on my mind every day (and night) since.

We went out onto Temple Grounds and began taking photos (as is tradition with Kev).

I’d just like to say, the Temple is a blessing. It has opened my eyes to so much more - and I know that there is still so much more to learn. Granted, I now know all the doctrines of the Church and it’s phenomenal. I could never have expected this, through all the Anti-Mormon research, from that heart-wrenching, sickening video of the Temple I saw mere moments after discovering the Church, and in all my scepticism, heard-heartedness, critique and stubbornness.

I’ve come a long way. Brave young men taught me in all my defences, but persisted, as did the Spirit. I can honestly and truly say that the Gospel has changed my life. I’m not the same as I was before, and I won’t be the same today as I am tomorrow, and how beautiful it is that it is so. How beautiful is it that persons can grow and progress.

And, when I think about it, the Temple is one of the main reasons I’ve continued. I could have stopped seeing the missionaries. I could have stopped reading the Book of Mormon. I could’ve stopped asking questions and doing research. Especially since I was convinced that it wasn’t true, or rather, not of God. But I didn’t. I wanted to know more. No, I needed to know more. Because, deep down, I knew the things I read about the Temple weren’t true. I knew that something was inside there and I needed to find it. The missionaries were quiet – they didn’t say a word. The journey was mine. And now I can say, I’ve found it. I know what’s inside the Temple and the answer is truth. The answer is God. The answer is purpose. The answer is meaning.

It is exactly as Sister Shan said, “No other Church answers the questions ‘Where do I come from?’, ‘Why am I here?’, and ‘Where do I go after?’ as well as the restored gospel.” In fact, no other Church comes close.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints truly is God’s Church once again established on the earth. Joseph Smith did a mighty work in bringing it back as God’s chosen Prophet. God loves us. And He has given us Temples. Let us keep our eyes set on them. For they truly are the House of the Lord.

“How far is Heaven? Not very far. In the House of the Lord, it is right where you are.”

I'm still a new-blood, of a year and roughly a month, so there's still much to learn, much to understand-- questions eating away. I'll be patient, I'll be diligent, but I still need help. I'll be zealous at times and confused at others. I need to be tried, reproofed and corrected. I am a convert-- and mainstream Christianity is not nearly the same as restorative Christianity, much less Mormonism. Even though, my sights are set; the Spirit is my compass and the Temple is my North.

Defending the Faith

There are many things I do not know, and great deal I still need to learn. This weekend I was privileged to be in the presence of faithful men and women, strong in their convictions and true to their mainstream Christian faiths. As ministers and active believers, their love for God was clearly felt. Admirable, I might add.

And as a Mormon (as I’m commonly referred these days), the topic of legitimacy clearly rose. It was then that I realised that I have much to work on – especially in defending my faith while respecting theirs.

1 Peter 3:15 tells us: “But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear:”

I failed in that regard this past weekend, as my responses left much to be wanted, much to be answered. I resorted to the same old response the missionaries left me with when I asked the same questions and the conversation died before resolution was made. So that is what I’d like to address today.

From their perspective, the gospel was clearly taught to the disciples and recorded in the Bible. From then, it has been the gospel Christians have lived by until the 1800s came. Then, suddenly, Churches sprang out with new doctrine and new teachings that opposed that which was carried on from the days of the apostles.

Galatians 1:8-9 was presented and I was asked how I felt about having “another gospel”.

“But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed. As we said before, so say I now again, If any man preach any other gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed.”

From this perspective, yes, I agree that it can be viewed as a perversion of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

But this is not how we see it. And foundation of our conclusion resides in the churches that did exist before any such restoration took place. Our understanding of the above verse brings to pass the difference in understanding of the term “gospel”.

Let us go back, back to the days of Joseph Smith, when his journey for truth began.

In his immediate vicinity, the topic of religion was rife and the denominations existing already strong. There were Baptists, Methodists, and Presbyterians of immediate concern. His family was torn between the splits and his mind was not yet made. These were the days when congregations fought strongly about who was right and who was wrong.

Already, before any “restoration”, there was much confusion regarding the truthfulness of any current denomination. It is not surprising that many began their own search for truth, coming to many of their own conclusions.

In the words of Joseph Smith, “for the teachers of religion of the different sects understood the same passages of scripture so differently as to destroy all confidence in settling the question by an appeal to the Bible.”

The “gospel” had not been preserved. The teachings that now came forth taught that God no longer spoke to man; that dreams and visions were not possible (as opposed to Acts 20:17) and that one should NOT pray (as opposed to 1 Thessalonians 5:17).

This was the reality for Joseph Smith. Clearly, an apostasy had occurred, as these men and women relied on teachings, rather than testimony; teachings that varied greatly, one from another. As we see it, a restoration needed to take place. Man needed God, not the interpretations of man.

So Joseph Smith prayed to God and the first vision came to pass. The Book of Mormon was revealed to reaffirm what the Bible taught. Together, they would stand as scripture to teach the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The Book of Mormon was not and is not another gospel, but another testament of Jesus Christ. It is further scripture to teach the same gospel, because the Bible had been through so many hands and preached with so many tongues and interpretations.

So no, I don’t believe Paul was talking about Moroni or Joseph Smith or the Book of Mormon in Galatians 1. I don’t believe the Book of Mormon teaches “another gospel”, because it teaches us to come unto Christ, as does the Bible; it teaches us to call on His name so that we can be saved, as does the Bible; it teaches us that He is the focus, He is the centre, and He is the reason for all things, as does the Bible. It teaches us the means by which we can be saved – faith in Jesus Christ, repentance, baptism, receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end – and that is the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is the same gospel he taught to His disciples and it is the same gospel taught today.

One thing I have noticed, however, is that contemporary Christianity is not the same as Christianity was just prior to the “restoration”. Christianity changed from trusting in reason to trusting in revelation, they went from being Draconian to relying solely on grace, and began developing a relationship with God instead of preaching damnation.

I find this change interesting as the words to Joseph Smith in the First Vision were, “they draw near unto me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.”

I strongly believe this has changed from then to now. Yes, there are many who fall under this category still, but Christianity today is about the relationship. At least, that is what I’ve noticed.

There are many who seek the Lord and follow Him with all their heart.

Another question was asked, if we believe that a person has to be Mormon in order to get into heaven. And granted, there are many that do believe this. But one thing we do know is that we, LDS, will be surprised at the judgement bar to see those who do, in fact, receive celestial glory (Matthew 5:10).

As important as the three kingdoms are in our faith, I don’t really like discussing them with those who don’t share it; mostly because they don’t exist yet. Rather, I prefer to focus on paradise (Luke 23:43) and prison (1 Peter 3:19), the current heaven and hell. This is where Mormonism and mainstream Christianity works together, for the most part.

There are many things pertaining to the restoration which would require much study, much time, and much discussion. I don’t have the answers to many things, but I know that this is the path God has put me on. For I, myself, had great difficulty in accepting the restored gospel, but when God speaks, you listen. When the Spirit whispers, you pay attention.

My Baptism: A Journal Extract

An extract from my journal after my baptism. How far I've come.

Baptism Day (08 December 2013)

The day I'd been waiting for most of my life had finally come - and I was able to do it wholeheartedly, without any doubt (when listening to my heart). I was accompanied by two others, Lloyd and Shamir, who too were being baptised and I was fortunate to have the people who cared for me most support me (save it be my grandparents).

The day started with a white one-piece overall and a glimpse at Elder Tew's whites. Despite the horror of the one-piece, we continued with photos; photos with the family, the Farquharsons, the elders and the converts. Once we were done, we headed off to the baptismal service.

Dylan opened with a prayer and the congregation followed with hymn 180, Father in Heaven, We Do Believe, chosen by Shamir. It was a very appropriate song, considering I did (and still do). Elder Zulu then gave a talk on baptism which heightened my spirits and Letta (Shamir's fiance) gave a talk on the Holy Ghost (the greatest gift in all of existence). Both talks were highly inspirational and left me with a spirit of peace.

It was off to the baptisms and I was both nervous and excited. First was Shamir being baptised by Kevin... the words were spoken and Shamir was immersed in water (a photo of evidence exists). Next was Elder Tew and me. He stepped into the font and I followed. At first, I was worried, but the moment I grabbed hold of his wrist - and he mine - I was at ease. He called out my name (after asking what my full name was) and called the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. He dipped me into the water and I felt a rush.

As the water beneath me washed over and engulfed me, I felt something more than words could even describe. I knew that I was only under for a couple of seconds, but it felt like I was under for longer (like a dual experience of time). My chest warmed up and I felt safe. A heaviness washed away and as Elder Tew pulled me out, I felt my surroundings revert. As Lloyd said after he followed with his baptism, "It felt like I was in a different place."

The water may have been cold, but I was warm on the inside (burning out). More photos were taken (unfortunately none of me immersed in the water) but I was happy, comforted and at ease. Elder Tew said the Spirit was strong (as Zulu said) and I could feel it. As we headed back to the service after changing, I recall saying it felt like I'd left something behind. Tew said it was my past transgressions and pain. I'd never been so content with any other answer before.

Back at the service, testimonies were given. Shamir and Lloyd glistened with truth as they spoke. I went up and spoke from my heart, mentioning hope and faith. I recall the words "seven months, six missionaries" and maybe I was waiting for Elder Tew. I mean, if I were to be completely honest, I knew I'd ask him to baptise me from the moment we met.

We sang the closing hymn, 219, Because I Have Been Given Much. Never been truer words. Members welcomed us to the ward and said they enjoyed my testimony. It was a joyous occasion. 

Brother Shaun told me that he recalled his baptism and that he didn't feel much different until his confirmation. I now understand what he meant. Now, I hold on to what I felt on Sunday. I hold fast onto my ability to relive a memory and I can feel the water washing over me. I remember the Spirit that warmed me and I can't wait for this coming Sunday when the Spirit comes to stay.

Afterwards, though - during eats - I felt something pull at me (something wrong). I fought the urge to follow and Elder Tew said that I should run from those pulls (literally, if I have to). I will hold strong to those words and remember the truth as evil fights to change my mind. Elder Zulu gave me a blessing of comfort and ended the day on a high note.

I am eternally grateful for the missionaries. I am eternally grateful for the Farquharsons. I am eternally grateful for the Spirit in my life and the atonement made possible by Jesus Christ. I am grateful that Elder Tew was the one to come into my life, baptise me and will be the one to confirm me. Maybe it's coincidence that his name is David, maybe it was meant to be.

Thank you Father for all you blessings, guidance and protection.

My Decision to Join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

It was 2007, the beginning of February, and I had just started at a new school – a week before cycle tests began. The teacher seated me alongside a kid named Dylan Farquharson and, unbeknown to me, my journey began. In fact, it wasn't until March 2013 that I actually knew he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It wasn't until March 2013 that I even knew the Church existed.

That’s me; obliviously unaware – and ironically so. As it turns out, my mother knew he and his family were members, yet we never spoke about it. Apparently he even showed me a copy of the Book of Mormon and invited me to a Youth talk on drugs (which I vaguely remember attending). Interesting, isn't it? I mean, even at 12, I know I had questions. I had recalled the ‘the lost scriptures’ and the beliefs of various denominations in my discussions with him. He and I spoke on various doctrinal topics and pierced through the Old and New Testaments in our walks home from school. I thoroughly enjoyed having someone who’d listen to, and participate in, my out-there rants on spiritual matters. Why then, didn't I know anything about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?

We lost touch in 2011 and came back in contact around March 2013. It was then that he invited me over to his house for dinner, not telling me that other “guests” would be joining. Though, to be fair, I doubt he even remembered that it was Friday night, DA with the missionaries. It was first the short, ash-blonde man with the physique of a rugby player that greeted me; an American, wearing a suit, to boot. Elder Beanfield. Muscular, American, suited up, and he couldn't even get my name right. These are a few of the things I despised the most.

“Jonah?”

“Jon-O-than.”

“Jono?”

“Only my friends call me that, but whatever.”

Then was his companion, Elder Black. The little bugger; he told me he came from Congo, which led me to talk much smack to him about Americans. You guessed it, American. He was a writer and artist of note, with an accent like none other. And that laugh. Oh, that laugh.

Anyway, that was the night I met missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They, and my friend’s father, Kevin Farquharson, were talking about Church stuff. I say “Church stuff”, because I was mortified to realise that were talking about “stuff” I knew little to nothing about. How could that be? I’ve researched practically every religion in existence (even those no longer in it). Eventually the gnawing voice at the back of my head pushed me to ask, “Do universities have modules or classes that teach about your church?” BYU they said; only BYU. Thanks. Eventually they said that they could teach me, reluctantly handing over a copy of the Book of Mormon. I didn’t recall ever seeing one. They went on to ask Dylan to tell me how the Book of Mormon changed his life and testified of its truthfulness. All good and well, but I was a wall. My curiosity was purely intellectual.

I went home that weekend and felt an immediate spiritual clash (not at all what I felt while I was in their presence). So I did the smart thing. I Googled the Church. I came across a video titled “Secrets of the Mormon Temple”. I watched it. I learnt of the Adam-God theory, baptism for the dead, their belief in becoming gods, that God was a man, that the Fall was a good thing, and that angels were resurrected beings. I felt sick. Voices bombarded my skull and I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t move. The simple thought of reading the Book of Mormon brought turmoil to my soul.

But I went back. I opened the book anyway. Because of all the voices shouting at me, the one telling me to read was the softest, the stillest. They gave me a pamphlet on the restoration and I joined them in watching conference, and going to Church. I brought them questions upon questions, explaining my theories and plausible solutions. I contended their teachings with Biblical scripture and rehearsed myself well in anti-Mormon literature. I became fluent, and they grew silent. I shared with them my deepest secrets, my deepest concerns, and in their soft, unanswering voices, I felt comfort. Though frustrating, though contended, I felt truth in their tongues and sincerity in their hearts. I grew fond of the Americans, even though I disagreed with almost everything they said.

A period of time went by and I returned to the home of the Farquharsons to find out the Elders, Black and Beanfield, were no longer there. Elders Dalton and Baker had taken their place. Americans. I was angry. I hated them. Everything I had shared with them had left with them. Any progress I may have made took a turn for the worse and this was when I officially started delving deep into LDS doctrine and scripture… to prove it wrong. To prove that Moroni and the Book of Mormon were what Galatians 1:7-9 was talking about.

They continued headstrong, unmoved. And I grew to love them as well. Elder Dalton left and Elder Zulu took his place (the first non-American, a South African). Elder Baker left and Elder Tew took his place (also an American).

I can still remember my first lesson with Elder Tew present. It was the first time we met, and he said, “I love you.”

What?! I thought. I didn't understand, but in that moment I heard the soft voice return, He will baptize you. I was nowhere near accepting the Gospel, but the Spirit whispered, and I could not deny. In that moment, everything changed. My research on anti-Mormon literature didn’t stop, but it began frustrating me. It never answered any of my questions. Instead, I only found flaws, inconsistencies, and untruths in each rebuttal.

Elder Zulu suggested Mormon 8 and it spoke to my mind. Elder Tew suggested Ether 12 and it spoke my soul. Sister Shan, Kevin’s wife, chastised my external research of the Gospel and said I should focus solely on the Book of Mormon; a message Elder Tew had been trying to get across. I listened. That night I finished reading the Book of Mormon. It rained. I felt the Spirit and knew I had a testimony. The only thing on my mind now was baptism; something the missionaries never asked of me. I tried to sleep that night and arose early that morning to find the first priesthood holder I could, Brother Kevin Farquharson, and told him that I wanted to get baptised. A date was set with the missionaries that day and, as I learnt months later, I filled the much prayed for spot of 8 December 2013.

My decision to join the Church did not come likely. In fact, my decision to join the Church came by way of testimony, a mighty change of heart. I had found my answers and found the truth. “I knew it. And I knew that God knew it. And I could not deny it.”