The Real Elder Price, Part 7: To Boldly Go

Editor's Note: This is the first in a series of essays that examines the real world of Mormon missionaries and the real Elder Price. Read the author's Introduction. At one point in The Book of Mormon Musical , my eyes teared up. It was when Elder Price, singing "I Believe!", leaped into the Ugandan village and declared "Satan has a hold on you!" It wasn't his declaration that moved me, but his leaping into the unknown. It reminded me of Elder Henry Lisowski, who reported his growing bravery in these words: One other change I've noticed is how much I like and am able to just talk with people about the Gospel. Before, I was shy, wouldn't talk to anyone, was AFRAID to, and just didn't bother anyone because I was afraid they'd get upset at me. After a year and a half of praying, it would seem that all of that fear finally just... disappeared. And now, things like this happen: Walking through the quartier, I see an open door. Me: "Target locked!" Elder Wagman: "What?!" Me: "Target locked, we're going in! Stay on target!" Elder Wagman: "What!?" (*walk through the door*) Elder Wagman: "We can't contact them, they're eating togeth..." Me: "HELLO! We're the missionaries and we're going to sit down right here and talk to you about the gospel. Where are some chairs?" (I may not have said it EXACTLY like that, but that's what HAPPENED....Wait, the whole target lock stuff I did actually say). Basically, realizing that this week has made me happy. Missionaries holding church sign In that same song ("I Believe") is the line that has impacted current politics more than any other: "I believe that God has a plan for all of us. I believe that plan involves me getting my own planet."" So sings the fictional Elder Price. This line apparently inspired a "man on the street" interview sequence from a Memphis talk show host. In early July, the host asked various people which GOP candidate believed he'd get his own planet after death. (The answer was Romney.) In August, an ex-Mormon on CNN said that Mormons indeed believe that good behavior on earth will be rewarded planetarily—and that Mormons will (of course) be in charge of pretty much everything. Actually, the idea of God divvying out planets to souls who have metaphorically graduated summa cum laude from mortality originated with the controversial anti-Mormon film, The God Makers. Mormons do believe that every person on earth is eternal, a child of God, formed in the image of God, and that each has limitless potential. We believe in Christ, and that through Him we may partake of the divine nature as "co-heirs" (Rom. 8:17). But what this ultimately means is incomprehensible. We are far better served to focus on the here and now. Missionary work is very "here and now." Mormon missionaries preach, work, and learn to care about those they teach. They seek to baptize converts and thus invite them into the community of Latter-day Saints, where they will assume responsibilities of their own. Jared Wigginton baptizing Carmella One such convert was Bala Foe Crepin, who joined the Church in 1993, and later became one of Cameroon's greatest missionaries and the branch president in Yaounde. President Bala participated in the arduous pilgrimage of Cameroonians to the Nigeria Temple, two weeks after it was dedicated. Among other challenges, these Mormon pilgrims had to rescue their mini-buses from wheel-engulfing mud on slippery, unpaved roads, and to walk when necessary. (See it on YouTube here.) The journey lasted nearly three days. President Bala, his shirt completely caked with mud, smiled as he helped push his mired bus. Such are the journeys and sacrifices Mormons make to get to sacred ground. Sometimes these journeys are physical, and sometimes they are spiritual. They may include wading through real mud, or symbolically washing away the deep dust of tradition and cynicism. Elder Price with President Bala The essential counsel to all who accept the name of Christ through baptism—to bear one another's burdens and stand as witnesses of Christ—is the starting point of membership in the Church, and the context for all that comes afterward. Both tragedy and miracle are inevitable. Tragedy is usually apparent. Miracles can be harder to identify, though they often shine when considered in retrospect. Some miracles, however, are clear and even astonishing. Elder Lisowski reported on a polio epidemic in November 2010—just a month before his mission ended. Over a hundred people had been affected; most had died. Government officials were dispensing vaccinations in a three-part series. Doctors would simply stand in a street and yell "Vaccinations!" and lines would form. On Sunday, November 28, the branch president in Pointe Noire (Pres. Caillet) announced that one of the members—Prince, a young man the missionaries' age, had become seriously ill with polio. He had been admitted to the small hospital with another stricken man—both the same age and at the same stage of the disease—but only one oxygen mask was available. The other man got it, and died soon afterwards The doctors expected that Prince—already becoming paralyzed in all four limbs—would also die. Elder Lisowski describes the scene: The front door to one of the wings was locked shut with a big iron bar door, and people were sitting on the grass outside, because their family members were in quarantine. We were told no one was allowed in. We kept pushing for authority to go in, and we eventually were allowed two people... President Caillet was going to give Prince a healing blessing, something anyone ordained to the Melchizedek priesthood can do, but had not himself completed the inoculation series. He was forbidden entrance, and so he asked Elder Gates, a senior missionary, and Elder Lisowski to bless Prince. Elder Lisowski wasn't entirely sure he had been immunized, but entered the hospital on the assumption that he had, and winged with faith that he would be protected regardless. "We had a prayer together outside," he wrote, "then someone unlocked the gate for us, and we walked in. We gave the blessing (Elder Gates anointed, he doesn't speak French yet) and everyone else was across the lawn outside, joining us in prayer." Henry Lisowski pronounced a healing blessing, telling Prince that angels were surrounding him right then, that he would be healed, and that many would yet hear the gospel proclaimed by his voice. A couple of hours later, the Branch President called the missionaries, announcing that a miracle had happened. Prince was up and walking, and would soon be released. Elders Gates and Lisowski with Prince Of course, most endings are not so tidy and sweet. All of the missionaries in Douala, Cameroon helped teach a particular family, that of David and Fridah, their twin sons, Rodi and Dodi, and the older son, Derrick. Elders Wigginton and Acorda were the first to contact David. Wigginton describes the scene: As we leave the dark alley and come into the day's light again, I see a man sitting on a chair emanating that light I saw in my head: a middle-aged man with a sharp haircut and moustache. The gold chain around his neck was glistening in the light. As we talk to him, he welcomes the proposition of a short lesson. We learn he is a non-practicing Catholic. He has a happy marriage of twenty-six years, ten-year-old twins, and a nineteen-year-old son. He loves his family. Finishing our short lesson, I feel impressed to talk about The Book of Mormon. As I do, his facial expression changes. "The Book of Mormon is a good book?" he asks. He walks into his house and brings out a copy, explaining his friend (a Catholic priest) cleaned out his library and told David he could take any books he wanted. He took this book. He said there was something special about it. That moment—the clearest spiritual guidance I have had in contacting on this mission—was not only a hope-building experience for me, but a faith-building one for David, an igniting of fuel he thought had burned out in his life. Our appointments became weekly, and I quickly fell in love with his prodigy twin sons, Rodi and Dodi. Dodi, a brilliantly talented comic book artist, and Rodi, a sensitive poet. Quickly, Rodi and Dodi became the most interested in the Gospel and in attending church. Soon, David and his wife Fridah developed a rotation system in taking the boys to church. They, too, grew to love what was taught and the feelings they had in attending. I talked about baptism with them before I was transferred to Yaounde. I left with so much love for that family. And as I headed to Yaoundé, I remembered how we met—a day of holiness for me. David with twins Rodi and Dodi Elder Seth Lee reports on the subsequent events: For our baptism service on Saturday, a man whose kids I taught in English class, David, committed to being baptized, which made us all excited because it really was a group effort to bring him and his family to church. After seeing the baptismal service, he felt the spirit so strongly, he committed to baptism. But that baptism was not to be. Elder Chirwa continues: David, a very gentle, loving man, died the day he openly accepted baptism. The funeral service will be tomorrow evening. I want to be there to support, but dread having to look into Fridah's eyes as they are filled with pain. I wish I could stretch out my arms and embrace her, but that is against the rules. Sometimes the only way we have found to express our love and support is to hold her hands in ours and reassure her with words. We will be there tomorrow and do what we can to support her. David, in his early 40s, had died of a diabetes-related problem, something which would have been easily resolved with better medical care. Elder Wigginton describes his next meeting with the family: As I spoke to Fridah on the phone, I offered my condolences and told her I would be able to see her and the kids in just two days, as I would be in town for zone conference. In that very zone conference, we bore testimony as we regularly do, going in a circle. As my turn came, my eyes preemptively watered and I felt the choking feeling of literally swallowing tears. I spoke of Shakespeare being right, that when sorrows come they come in battalions. Yet, regardless of the battering rams and armed assaults that have been flooding in over the past weeks, I bore and bear testimony that Christ has made me a fortress capable of enduring so much. And though I acknowledge the forces working on me, and though I feel them, I have become something that will not be crippled. I will bow my head in reverence and ache, but I will always move forward knowing that there is so much more yet to be realized. That night, when I saw Fridah sitting in the corner of her living room on a mattress, she began wailing and lamenting, telling the story of what happened to David. When she had spoken to him at the hospital, he did not respond. His eyes just stared straight up into space. I clasped her hand in mine and looked her in the eyes, praying for her. She was comforted enough to breathe and listen. I bore witness to her that David was not far from her and her family and that she would see him again. I promised this, something beyond understanding in a world of hopelessness and skepticism, and I know that it was and is true. Rodi and Dodi came in, eyes and bodies tired from tears, and gave me hugs. Elder Acorda and I sang hymns, and then Elder Acorda sang a beautiful solo ("Where Can I Turn for Peace?") with his angelic voice. I was pricked with power, as I heard Dodi singing before we started together: "Oui, je crois au Christ:" "I believe in Christ." Weeks later, Elder Price had an important conversation with the oldest son, Derrick: Monday night, we decided to pass by Fridah's house. Fridah and the twins weren't there, but Derrick was. He is my age, two months older than me. We've never taught him, but just exchanged little convos here and there, so this was a good opportunity. We didn't know at all where to go with the lesson at the beginning, and it was kinda awkward, but it ended really well. He opened up, and I opened up, and there was just a really good feeling there at the end. His great question of the night was about why God didn't answer his prayers when his father was dying. I didn't know really what to say at the beginning, but the spirit does prompt and give you 'in the very hour what you should say'. Fridah and her sons were not baptized, though they will surely remember the missionaries who loved and grieved with them. Elder Wigginton with African missionaries This is missionary work—sometimes triumphant and miraculous, and sometimes heart-wrenching. No missionary who loves the people will serve his mission without having his muscles stretched, his heart broken, his soul enlarged, and his vision adjusted to include a world he had never imagined. In a way, he does get a planet as his reward for being a good missionary. It just happens to be the planet he was born on, seen with new eyes. Elder Lisowski put it this way at the end of his mission: "I feel like I'm fully awake, and now that I see what's around me, I'm ready to make a difference."