Zone Conference - and a Haircut

The past two weeks have flown by. I have attended my first Zone Conference, first Zone Training Meeting, had my first exchange, and continue to encounter powerful spiritual moments with investigators and missionaries alike.

First off, Zone Conference. This is a meeting where all the missionaries in a zone (an area consisting of districts - which consist of areas) come together. We had Lesotho, Bethlehem, and Bloemfontein zones together that week. President and Sister Zackrison aimed at the atonement as the focus of the conference.

More hope, more investigators, and more joy was the theme, and integrating the atonement was awe-inspiring. More hope, because the Saviour has made all things possible. More hope, because the Saviour paid the price for our sins. More hope, because the Saviour has suffered all pains, infirmities, and afflictions for us (Alma 7:11-12).

We look at faith and know that it is that perfect brightness of hope that gets us through our darker moments. We look at all the Saviour has been through, knowing that He is there for us every step of the way. We look at hope and know that this is the foundation to every success, and our means of getting through every challenge in life.

More investigators, because the gospel blesses lives. More investigators, because the more we reach, the more we teach, the more we bring to the understanding that He does, in fact, live. That means, more people brought out of darkness, and into the light that has brought us so much joy. We do this because of our faith, and that hope pushes us to do even more than we ever thought possible.

More joy, because that is the reason He sent us to Earth in the first place. His great Plan of Happiness was so that we could come and learn, experience, feel, and know. That through the Atonement of the Saviour, Jesus Christ, we can find rest from our labours, forgiveness of our sins, and peace in our trials.

We came to learn. It was never meant to be easy. But knowing that our Saviour came down and suffered all our pains to know us makes it that much more worth it. He has been where I have been. He has been where you have been. He knows us - He actually knows us. And, in all, He loves us more than we could ever imagine.

Each of us has a purpose in this life. If not, He'd never have sent us here. So don't give up! He needs you - and all that you can offer.

At the Zone Conference, I was able to meet Elder Webb (my Never Dad). He calls me his Never Son. Let me explain - I was supposed to serve in Lesotho, with Him as my trainer (Father). But Elder Martin did not have a license. Yes, we're blaming it on Him. And just as punishment, all the people in his area are calling him Elder Smith. So meet Elder Webb, the Father I never had.

After Zone Conference, I cut my hair. Yeah, there is this lady in our area, Nthabileng, whose daughter is a member (whom we just reactivated - brought back to Church). The first time we met she says, "Elder Smith, I hope you know that I'm your new hairdresser. Whenever you need your hair cut, you come to me.

At Zone Training Meeting, exactly as the name implies, we went over the training package and spoke a bit on planning and habits. Habits - the reason for every success and failure that ever was, choose them wisely.

On Thursday I went on exchanges with Elder Brimhall in Bloemfontein. The guy has insane gospel knowledge. Together we discussed doctrines (both deep and simple), studies responses to those who decide to Bible bash us, and prepared well to help an ex-member and his wife (non-member) quit smoking.

We also locked the keys in the boarding. Yep, we locked the gate with no way to get in. Fortunately, the door was unlocked and his neighbour was kind enough to lend us her broom. But much to our dismay, it was too short. We were then able to use it to drag the mop out of the house, which we were able to tie to the broom with a coathanger wire that just so happened to be lying around. With the support of Elder Brimhall's shoe, we were able to drag the keys out of the boarding and open the gate.

It was great. We even taught seminary that evening (scripture study class). Only one person pitched up, but it made the lesson that much more meaningful.

On to the rest of the week; I'm convinced tracting and finding is just a drudge way of filling time so that Heavenly Father eventually says, "They've been working hard, let me give them an investigator."

I'm serious. We were teaching this guy who doesn't seem all that interested and suddenly his friends pop up. We weren't able to start over with them, so we just continued with the Book of Mormon. We invite them to Church, and low and behold only his friends come. His friends who say that they will be coming back without us even asking them. We see them again on Thursday (they're students at UTC and UFS).

Oh, and I wish I knew before I came out on mission (so that I could have bought more long sleeve shirts) - in many beliefs, praying to God wearing a short-sleeve short is an absolute no go. So here's to washing my long-sleeve shirts often before I can buy more.

That's all the time I have now. Just know that you are all in my prayers, day in and day out. Mission is great. The people are great - even when they bail, even when they reject. We're all sons and daughters of God.

Stay strong. God loves you - and so do I.

Future Elder Smith

I'd just like to emphasize the Future part of the title. Yes, Future Elder Smith. As in, not quite yet Elder Smith.

It's interesting to see that my surname has been the topic of many a conversation since my joining of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Not only among members, but also among my non-LDS friends.

"Face it, the only reason you joined the Church is because of Joseph Smith. Such vanity."

Yes, definitely. My entire testimony is dependent on a man I didn't even like while investigating the Church. I only developed a testimony of Joseph Smith long after accepting the Book of Mormon and the restoration of The Church of Jesus Christ. Granted, I do admire him now, but it actually has very little to do with my decision to be baptized and confirmed as a member of the Church.

"Smith is a common surname in America."

Yes, and it is a common name everywhere else in the westernized world. It doesn't change my repellent stance on the promised land. Yea, that's another thing I'm going to have to work on before Zion comes.

"Maybe you're related to Joseph Smith."

Yes, because all Smiths are related. I mean, Will Smith is my uncle. Besides, the entire thought is a moot point, especially considering the great difficulty involved in finding any relative before my great grandparents. My immediate family tree is complicated enough. I don't even want to think about the chaos that'd unfold in tracing back to 1830. I'll take the 1900s and leave the rest to my kids.

Interesting tidbit. My sister and I are the only remaining Smiths in our entire family (the ones that we know of, that is).

I digress. My biggest pet-peeve regarding my surname is Elder Smith. I am still Jonothan. I wasn't an Elder when I was first called Elder Smith and, even though I'm Elder now, the title itself is reserved for Apostles and those they (or the First Presidency) have called and set apart as such (directly or indirectly).

That being said, I am a Future Elder Smith - considering that my mission papers are currently being processed. And I do understand the attempted humor and affection involved in calling me Elder Smith. But this is me - blunt, technical, and attemptively accurate to a perfectionistic degree.

That, and I don't like being put on a pedestal. You see, the reasoning behind the affectionate humor is that I am quite zealous with regards to the Gospel. I take my calling as a Ward Missionary seriously, but more seriously is my obligation as a Member Missionary, yea, even a disciple of Jesus Christ.

But I don't like being reminded, or having it pointed out. Because there is something about the way people say it that makes it seem like I'm doing more than I actually am.

Brother Farquharson once pointed out that I shouldn't see it as flattery. Rather, I should list them as facts and remove all nuances and exaggerations. And I suppose the derivatives thereof support others' views of me.

But it doesn't make me comfortable. Perhaps that's the blue in me (see color code here), I don't know.

Regardless of my ranting, however, I am grateful for the friends I do have. They are supportive, encouraging and uplifting. Even though I often cringe at the things they say, and outright tell them they're wrong, they do teach me a lot. And it's that spirit I'd like to bring with me when I do, finally, go on mission.

So here's to serving the Lord the best I can. Here's to friends, whom I cherish. And here's to being a Future Elder Smith. Perhaps there'll be more when I'm a father, one day.

Priest's Mission Experience

Now, I've mentioned the Priest's mission experience a couple of times already, so here's a post all about it. Yes, this time, there will be pictures.

It was on the 12th of April 2014. Brother Kevin Farquharson and other stake leaders organised a day for Priests to pair off with missionaries for the day. My companion was Elder Deichman.

Meet Elder Deichman

The day started off... okay, the night started out at the MTC (Mission Training Centre) - now this wasn't my first time at the MTC, but that's another story. We were supposed to start at 6:30pm, but this is Mormon time and African time combined, so we started at 7:30pm instead. New missionaries taught us as we pretended to be investigators (this is what the MTC is for - to train young men and women to preach the gospel to strangers in two short weeks).

We moved on to Kempton Park Ward where families kindly agreed to let us stay for the night - we were treated as missionaries from get go. With greetings and preparations set, i wrote in my journal, said my prayers amd we were off to bed.

It was an "early" morning as we followed the missionary schedule. I say that because 6am is still quite reasonable. We said our prayers, had our showers, cleaned up and left the family with a prayer.

At the chapel, many young men found enjoyment throwing balls at one another. The excitement continued as breakfast arrived and the seminar began. We learnt of mission and the secret of missionary work, which isn't - or really, shouldn't - be a secret. That secret is work. We went over PMG (Preach My Gospel) and then moved on to be paired off with a missionary.

Now we're all caught up. We sang hymns, had people talk and then had lunch.

Lunch!

I didn't know if the food had been blessed, or not, so we did so just in case.

Yes, I'm wearing tekkies. Don't judge me.

We then moved out to our areas. Elder Deichman and I had Birchacres where he'd been serving for the past seven months. He had appointments set up (only one of which pulled through). It was a young lady (still in high school) who met missionaries elsewhere. We discussed the Bible and the Book of Mormon, just getting to know her and her sister. She had a powerful testimony of Jesus Christ already, which was phenomenal since nobody in her family taught her or even believed themselves. She told us about her own missionary efforts at school which was great.

The not so great part was how her dog peed on my bag and she gave us coke which I drank. The first and only time I drank coke as a member (and yes, I know, it's not technically against the Word of Wisdom).

We tracted a great deal and handed out pass along cards. There were many drunk people and quite a few rude people, but it was a great experience in the end. We met another Jonathan which was great.

Elder Deichman and I discussed many things and, as it turns out, we share a great deal of common interest in music. He wants to be a psychologist. He has a strong testimony, especially considering how his brothers did not. FYI, he was born in covenant.

Once the walking was over, we returned to report what we had done, sang and heard people bear their testimonies. It was great.

IDK

Brother Kevin wanted a funny photo of us, but - as it turns out - Elder Deichman was just as indecisive as I was.

What do you think?

We really don't know.

So we settled on this.

We then took group photos. This was funny; I was standing right behind Elder Deichman when he said, "I need to find my conpanion. Jonothan!"

Elder Pulley! On the right.

The group of Priests and Missionaries

Don't ask me what's happening here.

So that was it. A day I'll never forget. With moments I'll all always cherish. Who knows? I may just run in to Elder Deichman again one of these days.

From Aaron to Melchizedek

To quote the much acclaimed Isaiah,

"For precept must be upon precept, precept upon precept; line upon line, line upon line; here a little, and there a little:" (Isaiah 28:10)

For every step becomes a journey and every line a story. From infant to elder, child to parent, and scholar to teacher; we're always learning, constantly growing. And the Lord would have it no other way.

Today, on the 23rd of November 2014, I took another step; from Priest to Elder - from Aaron to Melchizedek. And, oh, how glorious 'twas.

I woke this morning to find it raining - another confirmation from our Heavenly Father - and recalled the rain the day I was baptised and the day I was confirmed (and ordained and set apart as Priest) and the day I was set apart as Ward Missionary. In fact, it rained the night I decided to get baptised - how grateful I am to see that Heavenly Father would choose to use the same signs to confirm that this is His path for me.

Sustained at Stake Conference with fellow friends and Saints and family. My mom was there, my sister was there, my best friend was there, my sister's friend was there, and my other family (Brother Kevin and Sister Shan) was there. Unfortunately, Dylan was unable to make it.

Words of a hymn we sang (Onward, Christian Soldiers) emanates still:

"One in hope and doctrine
One in Charity"

The only thing that could've made this day better... Elder Tew (David Tew). Sadly, he's in America and it was 3am for him when the ordination took place. Speaking of which, I didn't record it for him. I should have. I wanted to. Shoust.

I can only remember some of what was mentioned as Brother Kevin acted as spokesperson (with a High Councillor and Elder Broadhead in the circle). Fortunately, there were witnesses, and together we can remember the Lord's council to me. I do remember that I need to council with my mom, family and Church leaders and that the Lord expects, also, that I be a missionary here, now, and when I serve a full time mission.

I'm grateful that I've been entrusted with the Priesthood which belongs to the Saviour Himself. I know that I need to keep the high standards set and that I need to magnify my callings and serve others to the best of my ability (the Lord will take care of the rest). I want to, and I know it is possible.

I'm grateful that my family was there. Yes, everyone that was with me today is my family. Their support and encouragement is truly appreciated and I love them - even though I may not say or express it as often as I should.

This is the Lord's plan for all His children; that they come nearer to Him and experience the blessings the Priesthood has to offer. And through this, we can all experience true joy and happiness. I know this, and I know that God knows this, and I cannot deny it. (To paraphrase Joseph Smith - God's chosen prophet in these Latter-days).

What is a Missionary?

Merriam-Webster defines being a missionary as follows:

“1mis·sion·ary noun \ˈmi-shə-ˌner-ē\
: a person who is sent to a foreign country to do religious work (such as to convince people to join a religion or to help people who are sick, poor, etc.)”

I find this answer somewhat curious. Even in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, people think that the missionaries are the people who go from door-to-door, finding people to preach to, teaching them, and baptising them. Yes, it does fulfil a role, but this (predominantly) is the role of a Full-time Missionary.

Let’s get nit-picky with words and their definitions. A Full-time Missionary is someone who spends his/her time teaching the Gospel, exclusively. Usually, they are sent to a foreign country, but sometimes not. These are the people who go knocking on doors, handing out Scriptures, teach the Gospel, and encourage baptism. This is what most people see when they think of missionary work.

A famous Baptist preacher said, “Every Christian is either a missionary or an imposter.”

How does this influence our understanding of what a missionary is? Does this mean that it is every Christian’s responsibility to spread the word of God? Does this mean that every Christian needs to go on a mission “to a foreign country to do religious work”?

Let’s consider 1 Peter 3:15 (KJV):

“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:”

A Church publication, True to the Faith, states:

“Missionary work includes helping and supporting those who join the Church.”

So what does this mean? It means we need to be ready to answer for our beliefs at all time; our testimony needs to be intact. It means that we spread the Gospel most effectively when sharing our testimonies with others. We become missionaries by so doing, and helping those who join the Church. So, no, we don’t need to go on a mission “to a foreign country to do religious work” to be a missionary. We can do this at home. In fact, we should be doing this at home.

Joseph Smith once said, “After all that has been said, the greatest and most important duty is to preach the Gospel.”

The Church has been continuously reminded, “Every member a missionary.”

“The Lord's Church has always been a missionary church.”

I mean, it’s the first promise we make as we enter into the waters of baptism; to take upon us the name of Jesus Christ. We, therefore, are all missionaries – if we hold true to our covenants… if we truly love Jesus Christ.

In the Church there are various missionary titles, all working towards the same common goal – to build the Kingdom of God. We have the Full-time Missionaries (who serve for 18 to 24 months where service is actually key), as previously mention, but we also have Member Missionaries. What are Member Missionaries? This is everyone who has been baptised and confirmed as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Our duty is make friends, look after, look out for, share with and teach. We assist the missionaries as best as we can and share our testimonies with our friends. We do Family History and then go to the Temple to do work for our dead. We visit the sick, the poor, and the orphans. We teach our children and live as righteous examples for others to follow. We keep the commandments. And this makes us missionaries, even Member Missionaries.

In addition to the Church’s Full-time Missionary program is the Church-Service Missionary program. This is a part-time effort for a period of 6 to 24 months wherein assistance is given to many Church departments and operations such as media, employment, mission offices, addiction recovery, family history, and much much more. This requires more work to assisting secular and spiritual wellbeing.

Then we have Ward Missionaries. They do what Member Missionaries should be doing, prepare investigators for the missionaries, assist missionaries when requested with service, tracting and teaching, encourage members to seek out missionary opportunities, and fellowship. They’re basically ragdolls for the Ward Mission Leader, Full-time Missionaries, Bishop and Ward in general. Act under directions and forgo requests.

This brings you to me. I am a Member Missionary and a Ward Missionary. I, personally, don’t see the difference, as I continued doing the exact same thing when I was called and set apart… except maybe a few extra meetings. But hey, I love it. I get to spend time with missionaries and members, teach new people, live some of the missionary life at home, and do the Lord’s work. I am grateful to have been chosen, even if I’m the only Ward Missionary doing anything.

I will always remember the times out with Elder Tew, Elder Mukurati, Elder Day, Elder Carpenter, Elder Pulley, Elder Mead, Elder McAllister, Elder Harmaans, Elder McNeish, Elder Melese, Elder Martin, Elder Broadhead, and all the other missionaries whose names I’ve forgotten; I remember the lessons, I remember the discussions.

It is my testimony that the Lord expects us to live His Gospel and share His message. It is my testimony that we are all missionaries, and oh what joy that brings. Our Heavenly Father loves us all and, if we love Him, why not share His message and do His work? This Gospel brings us such joy, so it is only natural that we are willing to share it with all those around us.

If you are ever Iinterested in meeting with missionaries, you can visit www.mormon.org/missionaries. There you are able to find missionaries near you and uncover answers to questions you may have.

References
Merriam-Webster, 2014. missionary. [Online] Available at: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/missionary

Mormon.org, n.d. A Missionary Church. [Online] Available at: http://www.mormon.org/values/missionary-work [Accessed 12 November 2014].

2011. Chapter 28: Missionary Service: A Holy Calling, a Glorious Work. In: Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith. Salt Lake City, Utah: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, p. 327.

Spurgeon, C. H., 1873. A Sermon and a Reminiscence. s.l., Sword and Trowel.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 2004. True to the Faith. Salt Lake City, Utah: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Confirmation... and Ordination - on the same day

The morning was a rush, a little ruffle and shuffle here and there. My alarm clock went and sister was already in the bath. We had to get moving. I searched the house frantically for my Church clothes, the ones I had borrowed from the Farquharsons.

“Has anyone seen my shoes? Where’s my tie?!”

“Go bush your teeth, Jono. Have you eaten yet?”

“No. There’s no time. Is mommy up?”

“She isn’t,” my sister said in absolute dismay. “Go wake her!”
I grabbed a shirt I wasn’t entirely certain was mine, woke my mother and stepfather and jumped into the shower. I haven’t shaved. Filled with stress, I grabbed the razor and cut myself at least twice.

“Is it noticeable?” I asked.

“You look fine. Come, we need to go!”

She rustled us out the house and into the car. You’d think she was a member, but no. I’m shocked myself, and you’ll be even more surprised when I tell you about her own personal views which correspond perfectly with the Gospel. It was now the forty five minute drive to Centurion. Yes, forty five minutes to my home ward.

Let me back up a little. I was a student at the University of Pretoria, and the commune I stayed in fell under the Pretoria East Ward boundaries, maybe even Sunnyside if I wangled my a little. But my lessons happened in Centurion, with the Centurion missionaries (Centurion 2 Ward to be more specific). This was because the friend who introduced me to the missionaries lived in Centurion, and by the time the second set of missionaries arrived they wanted to hand me over to Pretoria East missionaries, but I declined. A commune is not the place for spiritual discussions (too many people, non-members, too much nudity, cussing, alcohol, etc… - I thank the Lord I no longer live there).

Then came Elder Tew. When I asked to be baptised, he said that I could be baptised in Centurion because I had the lessons there (two of them, but who was counting?). Part of me believes that, perhaps, he wanted to baptise me then already, or maybe even just witness it.

We attended Church that morning with my sister’s friend, Bianca. My friend, Deborah-lee Venter, joined us the previous Sunday to witness my baptism. We stuck out like sore thumbs those two Sundays… the convert and his non-member family and friends.
I arrived there that morning and Brother Kevin asked, “So, sir. Have you decided who’s confirming you yet?” I hadn’t. In fact, I’d been putting it off for as long as possible. I’m bad with decisions. Eventually I decided, because of Paul, that Elder Tew would be the one to confirm me. I mean, if Paul from the scriptures baptised and confirmed all his converts, why not the missionaries today? Or maybe I just wanted Elder Tew to do it… and if I’m to be honest, maybe I always knew it.

The congregation sustained me and the other two converts as members. We didn’t. Bishop Kwasi went up to the pulpit and asked, “Did you raise your hands?” We followed through very quickly and took our seats. Sacrament ended and I was told that, during Priesthood session, that day, I’d be given the Aaronic Priesthood and be ordained to the office of Priest.

“You have an hour to decide who’ll perform the ordinance.”
My chest was on fire. I couldn’t tell if it was the Holy Ghost baptising me with fire, or if it was heartburn as a result of anxiety. Whatever the reason, I kept asking for Gaviscon. Eventually, Sister Shan gave me a sachet. It didn’t go away.

Time ticked on by and I had 5 minutes, 4 minutes, 3 minutes left to decide. “Pray about it, and choose,” Sister Shan said. I did. We gathered together with the young men, bishopric, missionaries and my family. “Have you decided?” Brother Kevin asked. “No,” I said. “Let Shamir go first.” I watched the ordinance and, still, no answer. “We have to do it now.” I looked around at the Priesthood holders before me and came to rest my eyes on Elder Tew. He nodded his head and did ordinance.

I could finally breathe. I felt the Comforter put me at ease, reassuring me that this was the plan from the beginning. The words were uttered and a blessing was given.

We returned to the Priesthood session and departed ways after the service. By that, I mean, we spoke for about a half hour and then left. I was off to Alberton for the next two months. And that is another story in itself

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.”