My Mission

I've been reading and hearing about missionaries coming to the end of their two-year-journey and, boy, is it thrilling and terrifying to know that I'll be there soon. I don't want to leave behind the lifetime experiences, powerhouse people, and overall satisfying feeling of serving the Lord full-time. However, I do miss my family and friends without measure - I can't wait to be with them again. And then there's the life to get on with - more experiences waiting in this my mortal journey.

A returned missionary, Jack L. Brinkerhoff, explained it best in his poem titled My Mission:

A mission is a strange experience. It's a trial and a test

A mission throws at you the worst yet teaches you the best

They told me this would be the best period of my life

But I guess they didn't explain it all too clear,

I came out looking for a bed of roses.

I just wasn't expecting all the thorns I've found out here.

Sin[c]e I've been out I've never been so happy.

I've never been so depressed.

I've never felt so forsaken.

I've never felt so blessed.

I've never been so confused.

My mind has never been so clear.

I've never felt my Heavenly Father so distant.

I've never felt him so near.

I've never been so discouraged.

I've never been so full of hope.

I feel I can go on forever.

I think I've come to the end of my rope.

I've never has it so easy.

I've never had it so tough.

Things have never been so smo[o]thly.

Things have never been so rough.

I've never traveled through more valleys.

I've never ascended so many peaks.

I've never met so many neat people.

I've never met so many other (freaks).

I've never had so many ups.

I've never had so many downs.

I've never worn so many smiles.

I've never worn so many frowns[.]

I've never been so lonely.

I've never had so many friends.

Man, I hope this is all over with soon.

Gosh, I hope it never ends...

I recall a conversation I had with a young man I taught a little while back. He spoke of the intense trials that come after being baptised, and commented on my overwhelmingly amazing experiences. In a bit of a rut, I recalled the events following my baptism.

University, rent, work, temptation, family, TESTS - the life kind, and massive decisions. I had choices to make, either closer to Heavenly Father, or further away. I worried about family, friends, the future, and now even Church. It all felt a little too much. I remember the doubts.

Yes, I had them. Change is scary. Disappointing family is heartbreaking. Letting Heavenly Father down is soul-wrenching. However, remember President Uchtdorf's statement, "Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith," helped me carry on. Daily scripture study helped me carry on. Constant prayer, even in the middle of work, kept me going.

I knew, and I know, who I am and what Heavenly Father expects of me.

My mission hasn't all been sunshine an roses. There have been storms and thorns. As the poem above mentions, there have been nights I've simply wept. But there have been days I'd never replace. And if the best is what my Father wants, then the worst is what I'll take, because the joy is so much greater when we've seen the other side.

At a funeral on Friday, Bishop Cunningham shared, "The only way to take sorrow out of death, is to take love out of life." And "Separation makes the reunion so much sweeter."

In a talk two Sunday back, a sister share, "Only time can value he true meaning of love."

Every second is worth it, and the Gospel puts it into perspective.

I remember an exchanged Elder Harp and I ha with the Molweni Elders this last Tuesday. A recent convert, whose daughter is about to return home from mission, referring to the Book of Mormon told us, "I feel like if someone stole my book, they stole my life." It's simple. It's clear. There's meaning. There's peace. There's joy. If we but focus on the good and seek to learn from the bad.

Another family we saw was committed to share a verse with someone not coming to church. The one lady looked at me an asked, "What if you're the one not going to church." I replied, "Then you read a verse everyday. Share you're favourite with someone else not coming to church, and ask them to come with you to church on Sunday." She came to church.

These experiences are priceless. Though, there are more moments. Not just the serious ones, where you can't help but laugh.

A returning less-active member who has committed to quit smoking and prepare for the priesthood spoke about some movie that Elder Harp hadn't seen. To clarify on his coming statement, missionaries don't watch movies or listen to music (other than that which is uplifting and keeps our mind centered on the work). With a bewildered look, he said, "Go home! Check it out-- Wait, I mean, when you go home, check it out." His mother just stared at him as everyone else broke out laughing.

Another experience we had reteaching the Plan of Salvation was with a husband and wife. When we got to the spirit world, we asked, "Where will you go when you die?" The husband whispered to his wife, "Spirit prison." "Maybe you," she said, "but I'm going to paradise."

It's been a great couple of weeks. Transfers are coming, so next Monday I may be in another area. Yep, they've changed transfer days to Friday and Saturday instead of the usual Monday and Tuesday.

​Hope you have a good week.​

The Men (and Woman) Who Brought Me to the Place I Am Today

As I sit here thinking, looking forward to my mission, I can’t help but remember the persons responsible for bringing me here. I know that if it weren’t for the faithfulness and diligence of Heavenly Father’s faithful servants, I wouldn’t have come to accept the Gospel or find the testimony I have through the gift and power of the Holy Ghost.

It is for that reason I have chosen to dedicate this post to all those who have aided in the strengthening of my testimony and who have been with me every step of the way. I am truly blessed and grateful for all that I have and all that I have experienced.

I believe the first time I ever encountered anything remotely Mormon was early 2007; whereas the first time I became aware of anything Mormon was early 2013. Both times because of a young man named Dylan Farquharson. If it weren’t for him, my journey would never have begun. He may not be planning on serving a mission, but he is a missionary.

Let me explain. In 2007, I moved to Roodepoort, where I began schooling at Constantia Kloof Primary School. The teacher placed me next to a kid who immediately began befriending me, and showed me a picture of Moroni burying the Nephite record. Unfortunately, his presentation thereof involved the explanation of the lost books of the Bible, which led me to retaliate with what I knew regarding such. Somehow, the understanding of what the image was and the existence of the Book of Mormon completely eluded me.

It wasn’t until approximately five years later when he, Dylan Farquharson, became brave enough to trick me into coming to a dinner at his house – a dinner which just so happened to be a DA with the missionaries at his house.

Now I’ve told this story before in My Decision to Join the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My point, however, is that this entire journey began because of one such Dylan Farquharson.

That was when I met the Elders. Daniel Beenfield, specifically, was the one who gave me my first copy of the Book of Mormon. One of the first to teach me of the restored gospel, and even though I contended much, I heard his voice echo truths. He was sincere and I believed he believed what he was saying with all his heart, might, and strength. And I thank him for braving those steps and not giving up on me. Oh, and I can’t forget the time he let me score a try in a game of touch rugby. Patronising, right? It’s fine; anyone who knows me knows I’d never have scored any other way.

Serving with him was Jordan Black; whom I converse with often. I was able to share things with him and his companion, and they listened. And, even though we only began learning more about one another after the completion of his mission, he has contributed much to my understanding that Latter-day Saints are not brainwashed morons. His willingness to serve, inspiringly archaic terminology, and moving intellect have led me to understand Heavenly Father’s desire for us to learn. He’s also a poet and artist of note.

After some time, I returned to find another companionship in their stead. Dakota Dalton, who I didn’t speak to much until after he’d gone home. His was the period where I actually hated the missionaries. Strong emotion, I know; but I’d shared very personal experiences with the previous missionaries, and suddenly I had two completely new people I was expected to talk to. He stuck by, though, which I’m grateful for. And he even made a crack at our last night together. Somehow, he made it possible for me to push forward.

Alex Baker followed with the look of sport written all over him… He was actually the first to give me the Centurion missionary phone number (which I saved as Elder Baker until the day of my baptism), and to take mine. He sent me verses to help ease my concerns regarding Moroni being an angel of the devil. I even taught him of John’s tarrying. I remember, once, he told me that he was giving drugs to children.

Until then, I only had Utahans teach me. Siyabonga Armstrong Zulu, a South African, came through and took Dakota Dalton’s place. He paid attention to my concerns and even remembered them in subsequent meetings. Even today, he continues to act as an inspiration to continue forward. Also, he predicted my service in the Durban South Africa mission field. I can’t wait to see him again! Man! More specifically, man of God!

I didn’t realise, until after, that I’d been waiting for one such David Tew; the one and only. Upon meeting him, my attitude concerning the gospel changed completely. I still contended, but the desire to accept flinted. The Spirit whispered, and I knew he’d be the one to baptise me, even before I came to accept the Gospel. He introduced me to a few Mumford and Sons songs and I shared with him much that I hadn’t opened up about. In the end, he was the one to baptise, confirm, and ordain me. And he only left after giving me a blessing. The timing was perfect. Oh, and he was the first to take me teaching. He’ll always be my Aniki (too complicated to explain) and greatest motivator regarding mission. Spiritual grandbabies coming your way!

President Omer, whose first name I do not know. Meeting him made me aware of my worthiness before the Lord, and opened me up to that fact that Heavenly Father, and His Son, Jesus Christ, do in fact love me. Unfortunately, we didn’t stay in touch, but I’ll never forget him, and the influence he had in my life and decision to move forward with baptism.

Brandon Day came after and taught me about the sacrament more fully; yea, after my baptism. He continued to take me teaching and helped me understand the gospel more fully. I even remember telling him I’d be going to Alberton and that I’d become apostate. “Your testimony is too strong for that,” he said. That man, I’ll see him again at Tribulation.

In Alberton, I befriended Elder McAllister, who took me teaching many places. I learnt from him and observed his skills, especially in preparing Hermana Malabi for mission. Once, we even went out to eat a Jawbreaker; a large hamburger that he came closest to finishing. Even today (13/02/2014), six days before my mission, I hope to see him again before leaving.

Following McAllister was Kevin Martin. He included me in discussions both secular and gospel, practically shared a birthday with me, and fell in love with my Diablo III.

His companion, after Alberton had been whitewashed, was Elder Broadhead. Man, I love that guy. I’ve learnt a lot with him and I’m especially grateful for all that he has done. But, boy, he frustrates me. I’ve never been as angry with anyone as I have with him, yet somehow I keep forgiving him. He joined in my ordination as Elder and escorted me to the temple. In my sister’s words, I have expectations of him, and he rarely lives up to them. Why? I ask. Then it occurs to me, the only other person I feel this way about is my sister. He hugs me without my permission, and I let him.

Currently serving with him is Elder Wegrowski. Today I learnt more about him than ever before. He is willing, caring, and filled with an interesting sense of humour. His spirit is great, but I continuously point out my doubts in the legality of his driving, even though he’s certain to the contrary. I’m gonna miss him.

Kevin Farquharson. We’ve spoken much, and he knows what I have to say about him. I’m eternally grateful for his love and support. We truly did meet in the premortal life. This I know.

Shan Farquharson. She sussed me out from day one. She knew my innermost feelings and pointed out that I didn’t believe that God loved me. She put her foot down and made certain that my only source of study was the scriptures, specifically the Book of Mormon. The next day I decided to get baptised. I’m grateful for her support, hospitality and influence in my acceptance of the gospel. She is my mother in the Gospel.

Elder Wood, who was the first missionary I met in the MTC. I saw him just before getting baptised and now, again, just before leaving for mission. It’s great to know another scriptorian, another gospel enthusiast, and another zealous missionary.

Oh, and I cannot forget Elder Deichman, my first ever official/unofficial companion. Spending the day with him taught me much, especially regarding dogs and bags, coke and drunken people. I also learnt that my companion will probably lose me a couple of times; and him calling “Jono?!” with me right behind him.

These are the Mormons, to date, that have made a profound impact on my life. I will never forget them. I do, however, admit that many others have played a role in bringing me where I am today. First of such is my mother, Jolene Matthysen. Others include Elder Melese, Elder Mead, Ezra McNeish, Alpha Alphanum Mukurati, my sister, Alison Nikita Smith, and many others.

I am grateful for these people in my life and pray always for their guidance, protection, and prosperity. These people are a few of the reasons I desire to serve a mission – over and above my desire to share the gospel which has impacted my life so greatly. May the Lord bless them and continue to use them in the lives of others.

This is truly the Lord’s work. He loves us and cares for us. He blesses us in unimaginable ways, and missionary work is something we’ve all been called to do; whether full-time, part-time, online, big, or small – there’s always something for each of us to do. And I thank Heavenly Father each day for all of it.

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.