Baptized Mormons - A True Story (Except for Some Names)
Disclaimer: I don't know anything about narrative writing, but I wanted to tell this story from my mission. As I considered how best to do it, this seemed like the best way. Don't expect anything spectacular. It is all true, however, with the exceptions that I can't remember the names of the brother who gave us a ride or the man we went to pick up. I also made my best (educated) guess as to the feelings of Ricky in the final scene. The rest of it came from my own experience and firsthand accounts of the others involved. Any dialogue is exactly as it proceeded from the original mouths, and any happenings are, to the best of my memory, strictly accurate.
Part 1
Despite Jose's promises, Elders Figueira and Hansen knew that the man was probably not going to come to church that Sunday, but they were determined that it wouldn't be due to a lack of faith on their part. Like most of their contacts in that part of Tempe, Jose was a friendly guy, happy to listen, and genuinely interested in what the two missionaries said. He just didn't see his commitments to do the things they asked of him as any more binding than, say, a buddy's invitation to come hang out for a couple of hours. Easily put off, no offense intended, no harm done. This time, however, Brother Smith had arranged to pick Jose up, leaving the investigator with no excuse since he had already admitted to not having anything to do that weekend.
Still, since that day Brother Smith had been unable to contact Jose by phone to confirm their arrangement. Now he was feeling like it might not be worth the extra gas it took to get to Jose's apartment, let alone the added stress of getting his family ready and deposited at the church those few minutes earlier than usual.
So when, on Sunday morning, Brother Smith announced that he hadn't even bothered to go, Elder Hansen was unsurprised and couldn't blame the good brother. Elder Figueira, however, was bothered. He insisted that they at least had to do their part, believing the Lord would bless their efforts.
"I'm sorry to have let you down, Elder," Brother Smith said, a more remote note hint of offense in his voice than Elder Figueira had feared. That was good, but the missionary didn't quite know how to respond, so he mumbled something about it being all right. The last thing he wanted to do was upset one of their most reliable friends in the ward, but he felt very strongly that they needed to make the trip.
The chapel was filling up quickly. It was Fast Sunday and multiple baby blessings threatened to leave standing room only. The missionaries left their bags on the pew to reserve a spot for themselves and, they hoped, their investigator, then they piled into the Smith's van and went down to Jose's.
He wasn't there. A few minutes later, an embarrassed Elder Figueira, a disappointed Elder Hansen, and a justified Brother Smith returned to a sold-out Sacrament Meeting. The brother was able to slip in beside his family, but every other seat - including those saved by the missionaries - had been filled.
Part 2
Ten years ago, Ricky Giles had been a different kind of Elder, and one found not nearly so frequently or easily in Arizona: he was an Elder of Jehovah's Witnesses. The lifelong seeker of truth had advanced in his church throughout the years, and today he was in a position of trust, despite his continuing inner conflict.
The Witnesses might not be the perfect church, he knew, but it was the best he had found so far, and he had done a lot of looking. The fact that he was responsible for filling half of the two-hour meeting scheduled for later that day was proof that he at least believed enough to satisfy his superiors.
Somewhere in the course of the day, however, Ricky had an epiphany. He didn't know how he knew it, but he did: Jehovah's Witnesses was not the true church of God. He had found much good there, but he wouldn't find his ultimate answers, let alone salvation. He never showed up for the meeting.
___________________________________________
Ten years later, Ricky's Catholic wife Pam had religious questions of her own. A friend of hers at work - a Mormon - was talking with her, trying to answer some of her questions. Pam had been trying to share these answers with her still unaffiliated husband for about five years, but Ricky was absolutely closed. He may not believe in the Witnesses anymore, but he definitely still believed what they had told him about the Mormons - what he himself had taught others.
The Mormons were evil. They were anti-God. The front gate of their famous temple in Salt Lake City had a ram's head and a pentagram on it. No way would Ricky touch anything that had to do with the Mormons.
Today, though, something was different. Maybe it was the Christmas season. Ricky had finally gotten over his aversion to the major holidays. Maybe it was just that he was too tired today to put up a fight. Whatever the cause, Pam's repeated attempts finally paid off, and Ricky agreed to go with her to see the Christmas lights at the Mesa Mormon Temple.
___________________________________________
Something hit Ricky the moment he stepped on the temple grounds. Sure, he'd been reluctant to come, but so far he hadn't seen any pagan symbols, the lights were beautiful, and the feeling was...incredible. To tell the truth, Ricky recognized it. Just as he had all those years ago when he'd left the Witnesses, today Ricky acknowledged the Holy Spirit.
The feeling only intensified when Elder Lewis showed up. He was a young missionary in both senses of the word: nineteen years old, and only a few months in the mission field. Nevertheless, he was one of the most knowledgeable people Ricky had ever met where the scriptures were concerned. He readily handled all of Ricky's questions about the prophecies of Isaiah and other Old Testament prophets. Plus he had plenty to say about new scripture.
It was a fairly brief conversation, but Ricky and Elder Lewis had made a trade by the time it ended. The missionary had gotten a piece of paper with Ricky's information on it. Ricky had gotten a promise that the missionaries in Tempe, where he lived, would be visiting him soon. The other thing Ricky got was a single, undeniable conviction: God was speaking to him. God was telling him to be a Mormon.
_______________________________________________
On the drive home, Ricky resolved to put God to the test.
"If God wants me to be a Mormon," he told his wife, "then He wants me to have a Book of Mormon, and He wants me to have it tonight." It was about nine when the couple arrived at their apartment, but Ricky immediately opened the local phone book to the heading "Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints." He couldn't believe his eyes. The church could have had a phone book all its own, there were so many numbers. It went on for pages and pages.
Undaunted, Ricky told himself, "If God wants me to be a Mormon, then I'll get what I need within the first ten numbers." On the second one, someone picked up. It was a bishop in a neighboring city, working late in his office. Ricky explained why he was calling, and the bishop invited him down to his chapel.
The bishop gave Ricky a tour of the facility, including the chapel, the meeting rooms, and a large water font for baptisms. Then he gave Ricky a Book of Mormon. When Ricky asked what time services were, however, the Bishop told him that there was a congregation closer to him in Tempe that he should probably attend. They looked it up, found the hours and address, and Ricky went home convinced that he had finally found his church.
__________________________________________
Sunday found Ricky and Pam walking into the church just as Sacrament Meeting was about to start. The congregation was apparently huge. Every seat was filled. Well, almost every seat: there were two ownerless bags on one of the pews. At a loss for what else to do, the Giles moved the bags and sat down.
Services were interesting. Near the beginning two babies were blessed, which seemed like a special occasion. The Sacrament was beautiful. The individual testimonies of ordinary members were both remarkable and inspiring. Then it was over and neither Ricky nor Pam knew what to do. They had both heard that Mormon services were longer, but since about half the congregation seemed to be going home and no one offered to show them differently, the couple left unsure as to what the next step might be.
Part 3
Elders Figueira and Hansen came home Sunday night needing a miracle. Not much had gone as planned that day. Jose hadn't showed up, he didn't look like he ever intended to come, Brother Smith was mildly upset with them, and on top of it all, they'd lost their seats at Sacrament Meeting. Elder Figueira in particular was terribly confused. Hadn't he felt the need to visit Jose so strongly? Hadn't that idea had a divine source? Then why had nothing happened? Why hadn't Jose been there? Why had he been made a fool of in front of his companion and a ward member whom he respected? Did he even know how to recognize the voice of the Lord anymore? Could he perform his duties as a leader among the local missionaries if he couldn't even get one prompting right?
Carrying these questions and others, the two tired Elders planned, prayed, and went to bed.
By Tuesday things weren't much better. The only glimmer of hope came in the mail that afternoon. It was a referral from the temple lights last week - one Rick Giles. Even though it came from Elder Lewis, a trainee and good friend of Elder Figueira's and an excellent missionary, the Elders were only too familiar with how these things generally went.
A person went to the lights where the beauty of the environment and the Spirit of the temple combined with the general goodwill of the Christmas season to soften hearts just enough for a referral to be given. Most of the time it was from an eager member wanting to share the Gospel with an unsuspecting friend. The person in question had usually cooled enough by the time the name got to the right missionaries that the window had largely closed. Time was of the essence, and too much of it had usually passed.
Still, Christmas light referrals were better than media referrals by a long shot, plus Elder Lewis wouldn't have intentionally sent a dud. There was that occasional miraculous story that got all the Elders and Sisters at the temple pumped up to go out bearing testimony and taking names. And faith preceeded the miracle didn't it? Elder Figueira decided to call on it right away.
Someone picked up. The Elder introduced himself as a missionary from the LDS Church.
"Oh, yes!" said the voice. "I've been waiting for your call."
Part 4
It had taken the Elders several days to call, and Ricky had begun to worry that the message he'd sent at the Christmas lights hadn't gotten through. His fears had proven false, however, as the missionaries had called earlier that day. They would be at his apartment soon. His wife, who had been a Mormon in her heart for years, was just as excited as he was, but Ricky was also nervous. What if the local Elders weren't as good as Elder Lewis? What if he didn't feel that same confirmation - that sense of familiarity and truth? After so many seemingly miraculous events, what if it was all just too good to be true?
The doorbell rang, and Ricky answered. If he had needed further confirmation, he got it as the missionaries sat down. Ricky realized that he already knew these young men. It wasn't by their names or faces that he knew them: not by any past acquaintance with their persons. Ricky recognized the bags.
Two weeks later he and Pam were baptized. Mormons.
Part 1
Despite Jose's promises, Elders Figueira and Hansen knew that the man was probably not going to come to church that Sunday, but they were determined that it wouldn't be due to a lack of faith on their part. Like most of their contacts in that part of Tempe, Jose was a friendly guy, happy to listen, and genuinely interested in what the two missionaries said. He just didn't see his commitments to do the things they asked of him as any more binding than, say, a buddy's invitation to come hang out for a couple of hours. Easily put off, no offense intended, no harm done. This time, however, Brother Smith had arranged to pick Jose up, leaving the investigator with no excuse since he had already admitted to not having anything to do that weekend.
Still, since that day Brother Smith had been unable to contact Jose by phone to confirm their arrangement. Now he was feeling like it might not be worth the extra gas it took to get to Jose's apartment, let alone the added stress of getting his family ready and deposited at the church those few minutes earlier than usual.
So when, on Sunday morning, Brother Smith announced that he hadn't even bothered to go, Elder Hansen was unsurprised and couldn't blame the good brother. Elder Figueira, however, was bothered. He insisted that they at least had to do their part, believing the Lord would bless their efforts.
"I'm sorry to have let you down, Elder," Brother Smith said, a more remote note hint of offense in his voice than Elder Figueira had feared. That was good, but the missionary didn't quite know how to respond, so he mumbled something about it being all right. The last thing he wanted to do was upset one of their most reliable friends in the ward, but he felt very strongly that they needed to make the trip.
The chapel was filling up quickly. It was Fast Sunday and multiple baby blessings threatened to leave standing room only. The missionaries left their bags on the pew to reserve a spot for themselves and, they hoped, their investigator, then they piled into the Smith's van and went down to Jose's.
He wasn't there. A few minutes later, an embarrassed Elder Figueira, a disappointed Elder Hansen, and a justified Brother Smith returned to a sold-out Sacrament Meeting. The brother was able to slip in beside his family, but every other seat - including those saved by the missionaries - had been filled.
Part 2
Ten years ago, Ricky Giles had been a different kind of Elder, and one found not nearly so frequently or easily in Arizona: he was an Elder of Jehovah's Witnesses. The lifelong seeker of truth had advanced in his church throughout the years, and today he was in a position of trust, despite his continuing inner conflict.
The Witnesses might not be the perfect church, he knew, but it was the best he had found so far, and he had done a lot of looking. The fact that he was responsible for filling half of the two-hour meeting scheduled for later that day was proof that he at least believed enough to satisfy his superiors.
Somewhere in the course of the day, however, Ricky had an epiphany. He didn't know how he knew it, but he did: Jehovah's Witnesses was not the true church of God. He had found much good there, but he wouldn't find his ultimate answers, let alone salvation. He never showed up for the meeting.
___________________________________________
Ten years later, Ricky's Catholic wife Pam had religious questions of her own. A friend of hers at work - a Mormon - was talking with her, trying to answer some of her questions. Pam had been trying to share these answers with her still unaffiliated husband for about five years, but Ricky was absolutely closed. He may not believe in the Witnesses anymore, but he definitely still believed what they had told him about the Mormons - what he himself had taught others.
The Mormons were evil. They were anti-God. The front gate of their famous temple in Salt Lake City had a ram's head and a pentagram on it. No way would Ricky touch anything that had to do with the Mormons.
Today, though, something was different. Maybe it was the Christmas season. Ricky had finally gotten over his aversion to the major holidays. Maybe it was just that he was too tired today to put up a fight. Whatever the cause, Pam's repeated attempts finally paid off, and Ricky agreed to go with her to see the Christmas lights at the Mesa Mormon Temple.
___________________________________________
Something hit Ricky the moment he stepped on the temple grounds. Sure, he'd been reluctant to come, but so far he hadn't seen any pagan symbols, the lights were beautiful, and the feeling was...incredible. To tell the truth, Ricky recognized it. Just as he had all those years ago when he'd left the Witnesses, today Ricky acknowledged the Holy Spirit.
The feeling only intensified when Elder Lewis showed up. He was a young missionary in both senses of the word: nineteen years old, and only a few months in the mission field. Nevertheless, he was one of the most knowledgeable people Ricky had ever met where the scriptures were concerned. He readily handled all of Ricky's questions about the prophecies of Isaiah and other Old Testament prophets. Plus he had plenty to say about new scripture.
It was a fairly brief conversation, but Ricky and Elder Lewis had made a trade by the time it ended. The missionary had gotten a piece of paper with Ricky's information on it. Ricky had gotten a promise that the missionaries in Tempe, where he lived, would be visiting him soon. The other thing Ricky got was a single, undeniable conviction: God was speaking to him. God was telling him to be a Mormon.
_______________________________________________
On the drive home, Ricky resolved to put God to the test.
"If God wants me to be a Mormon," he told his wife, "then He wants me to have a Book of Mormon, and He wants me to have it tonight." It was about nine when the couple arrived at their apartment, but Ricky immediately opened the local phone book to the heading "Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints." He couldn't believe his eyes. The church could have had a phone book all its own, there were so many numbers. It went on for pages and pages.
Undaunted, Ricky told himself, "If God wants me to be a Mormon, then I'll get what I need within the first ten numbers." On the second one, someone picked up. It was a bishop in a neighboring city, working late in his office. Ricky explained why he was calling, and the bishop invited him down to his chapel.
The bishop gave Ricky a tour of the facility, including the chapel, the meeting rooms, and a large water font for baptisms. Then he gave Ricky a Book of Mormon. When Ricky asked what time services were, however, the Bishop told him that there was a congregation closer to him in Tempe that he should probably attend. They looked it up, found the hours and address, and Ricky went home convinced that he had finally found his church.
__________________________________________
Sunday found Ricky and Pam walking into the church just as Sacrament Meeting was about to start. The congregation was apparently huge. Every seat was filled. Well, almost every seat: there were two ownerless bags on one of the pews. At a loss for what else to do, the Giles moved the bags and sat down.
Services were interesting. Near the beginning two babies were blessed, which seemed like a special occasion. The Sacrament was beautiful. The individual testimonies of ordinary members were both remarkable and inspiring. Then it was over and neither Ricky nor Pam knew what to do. They had both heard that Mormon services were longer, but since about half the congregation seemed to be going home and no one offered to show them differently, the couple left unsure as to what the next step might be.
Part 3
Elders Figueira and Hansen came home Sunday night needing a miracle. Not much had gone as planned that day. Jose hadn't showed up, he didn't look like he ever intended to come, Brother Smith was mildly upset with them, and on top of it all, they'd lost their seats at Sacrament Meeting. Elder Figueira in particular was terribly confused. Hadn't he felt the need to visit Jose so strongly? Hadn't that idea had a divine source? Then why had nothing happened? Why hadn't Jose been there? Why had he been made a fool of in front of his companion and a ward member whom he respected? Did he even know how to recognize the voice of the Lord anymore? Could he perform his duties as a leader among the local missionaries if he couldn't even get one prompting right?
Carrying these questions and others, the two tired Elders planned, prayed, and went to bed.
By Tuesday things weren't much better. The only glimmer of hope came in the mail that afternoon. It was a referral from the temple lights last week - one Rick Giles. Even though it came from Elder Lewis, a trainee and good friend of Elder Figueira's and an excellent missionary, the Elders were only too familiar with how these things generally went.
A person went to the lights where the beauty of the environment and the Spirit of the temple combined with the general goodwill of the Christmas season to soften hearts just enough for a referral to be given. Most of the time it was from an eager member wanting to share the Gospel with an unsuspecting friend. The person in question had usually cooled enough by the time the name got to the right missionaries that the window had largely closed. Time was of the essence, and too much of it had usually passed.
Still, Christmas light referrals were better than media referrals by a long shot, plus Elder Lewis wouldn't have intentionally sent a dud. There was that occasional miraculous story that got all the Elders and Sisters at the temple pumped up to go out bearing testimony and taking names. And faith preceeded the miracle didn't it? Elder Figueira decided to call on it right away.
Someone picked up. The Elder introduced himself as a missionary from the LDS Church.
"Oh, yes!" said the voice. "I've been waiting for your call."
Part 4
It had taken the Elders several days to call, and Ricky had begun to worry that the message he'd sent at the Christmas lights hadn't gotten through. His fears had proven false, however, as the missionaries had called earlier that day. They would be at his apartment soon. His wife, who had been a Mormon in her heart for years, was just as excited as he was, but Ricky was also nervous. What if the local Elders weren't as good as Elder Lewis? What if he didn't feel that same confirmation - that sense of familiarity and truth? After so many seemingly miraculous events, what if it was all just too good to be true?
The doorbell rang, and Ricky answered. If he had needed further confirmation, he got it as the missionaries sat down. Ricky realized that he already knew these young men. It wasn't by their names or faces that he knew them: not by any past acquaintance with their persons. Ricky recognized the bags.
Two weeks later he and Pam were baptized. Mormons.
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