COMPANION: ELDER COLLETT
For the first time this week, I stood on my chair, waved the Book of Mormon over my head, and testified that it is true to an investigator.
For the first time this week,
we left an investigator with chapter 29 in 2 Nephi. Some choice passages from 2 Ne. 29 include "Thou fool that shall say a Bible, we have got a Bible, and we need no more Bible." and "Wherefore murmur ye, because that ye shall receive more of my word?" It was a little bold.
For the first time this week, I taught a lesson in Spanish all by myself! Actually I taught three!!!! They did not go very well because I know about 12 words in Spanish, but I am comforted by the knowledge
that I don't know enough Spanish to accidentally have taught false doctrine either.
For the first time this week, I taught relief society! We also taught Sunday school and elder's quorum. We had to go on splits in church to accomplish all of our teaching assignments. That was new. You ever see a missionary pound the pulpit in relief society? That was fun.
For the first time this week I got to learn how to do plumbing! We spent all day under a house setting up their pipes. Well, Elder Collett did it. I fell asleep in a spider web.
Some of the people we are teaching are pretty unique. One 22 year old young man, Cody, looks like he's about 45. He is a miner, stands about 6'5" 300lbs, and has the most manly beard you can imagine. Cody's beard makes Paul Bunyan's facial hair look girly. We are going there tonight. I hope he doesn't eat me.
One story from the week is especially dear to me. It was raining, of course, and we had just gotten out of a 9 hour service project that had left me a little tuckered out. We had a genius plan to walk around in the rain and then knock on the doors of our most promising potential investigators, the idea being that we would look so wet and cold and pathetic that they would HAVE to let us in. We thought better of this particular flavor of deviousness at the last moment, which left us standing on a corner rather late in the evening, looking and
feeling exactly as wet and cold and pathetic as we had planned, with no idea what to do.
I have what could generously be referred to as an unquiet mind. Although it is easy for me to identify the presence of the Spirit, rarely in my life has there been a sufficiency of peace to allow the Holy Spirit to actually lead and direct my unconventional process of decision. This has often been a gift in my life, teaching me the importance of unquestioning and unwavering obedience and trust. But it has been a keenly felt handicap as well.
Standing on that street corner, I had a distinct impression to backtrack and walk down a particular road at a particular time. So we did. The road was empty, and darkish, and I stepped in what was either the world's biggest puddle or the world's smallest lake. I heard myself saying to the Spirit, "I don't know about this man..."
And of course this is a missionary's story so you know what happens next. A woman we have met several times but never accepted the lessons ran out into her yard, demanded we come in and get dry, poured out her
life story to us, accepted a Book of Mormon and a return appointment, and told us she has been looking for a church to go to.
We CAN hear the Spirit speak to us. Members of the church have the promise of that gift and it is accomplished in missionary work every single day. In all my weakness and in all the confusion of my heart and mind, even I can feel it. Even I. Even me. It is a tender miracle.
The mission president has instructed our companionship to work with the members of the ward. Probably as a response to our enormous amount of teaching and zero amount of baptizing. The activity rate in our ward is about 12%. So we spent a good part of this week calling every single male over the age of 16 in the ward and taking them all over town with us. The members are amazing. When we ran out of active members we brought the "less active" ones. When we run out of those we'll start taking investigators to our lessons with our other investigators. It's been a little wild.
And of course there was Easter. Easter is the end of the world as we know it. Easter is fantastic.
So often people people come up to us and tell us how bad the world is getting. So often I hear the weepings, and wailings, and gnashing of teeth. Men and women confront us with the sorrows and cares and embittered protests of the earth and I hear about how wretched things are, how much worse things are getting, how much worse we should expect them to be. After a particularly graphic recitation of atrocity, the teller will sometimes pause and stare at us, their eyes demanding an answer, their gaze expecting a reaction.
Jesus Christ is Risen. What sting does death hold for me? My Savior is my King. What suffering is there in pain? Because of my Messiah, hell itself trembles, haunted and hung by wretched impotency. Immanuel is come again. The sacrifice is done, and yet He lives. He lives and rules and reigns supreme. He directs this church and promises that it shall never fail. He gives peace in this life, and joy in the world to come. What is it to me how dark the night is? I stand at the open door of the brightest mansion of my Father, inviting all to enter in at the gate.
Sigh. I do not mean to minimize pain or trivialize the enormity of the task before my brothers and sisters in this probation. I only know that He is Risen. That the victory is already won. That the spoils are already ours. That the Kingdom is already come, and that my God and my King await with arms outstretched for anyone to come and go, to come and see. Even me! Even me.
Happy Easter.
~Elder Jorgensen
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