Book of Mormon: Day 196: The Worth of a Soul

Today’s Reading: Alma Chapter 29

“Where do you think you’ll serve your mission?” As a soon-to-be missionary, it was a question I heard almost daily. My canned response went something like this: “I don’t know. But I hope it’s to a foreign country or at least speaking a foreign language. . .in fact, I would be floored if I get called English speaking”.

You see, I had recently returned from Romania where I volunteered at a children’s hospital and orphanage. I had arrived in the country knowing a mere five words of Romanian and after 3 ½ months I had picked up enough of the language to be proficient at holding a conversation. The taxi drivers and ward members along with the hospital and orphanage workers were often astounded at my ability to communicate with them. The question came to mind: “why does the language come so easily to me?” I concluded that it must be in preparation for me to serve a mission in a foreign language–Romanian most likely. Or perhaps I’d speak another Latin-based language like French or Italian? Surely the Lord had given me this “gift of tongues” for a reason! What other reason could there be?!

Finally the long-awaited day came when that white envelope arrived in the mailbox. I summoned my family to witness this epic, life-changing event. I opened the package with nervous anticipation–I felt like a six-year-old girl with a wrapped gift on my lap, wondering if Grandma had gotten me that easy-bake oven I always wanted. After clumsily removing the contents and opening the booklet, I read the words aloud:

“. . .You are assigned to labor in the **drumroll please!** Arizona. . .Tucson. . .mission. . .in the. . .English language.” I stared at my mission call feeling like Grandma got me socks.

All sorts of thoughts ran through my mind: “Huh?! What?! Could this be a mistake?” “Was this call meant for someone else?”  “Maybe this call is evidence that Heavenly Father has a sense of humor–sure, the United States is technically a ‘foreign country’ when you live in Canada, but it sure isn’t exotic!”

Standing before my family, I tried to swallow my pride and channel my thoughts to something more positive. My twin brother had recently returned from his mission in Mesa, Arizona. How nice that we would have Arizona in common! Then, a nugget of truth came to my mind that I had known all my life, but had yet to fully understand: “God knows me and he knows the best road for me to take”. I tried to hold onto that thought with all my might, not wanting to let go, not wanting to face the disappointment that might creep in.

When I entered the MTC, however it was hard to stay optimistic. Everywhere I looked there were missionaries donning the familiar name tag–many indicating they would be speaking a foreign language. I met the missionaries who would be serving in Romania, some of them laughed about how they had no natural language ability whatsoever. My lips stretched into a wry smile, but I felt my stomach churn with jealousy. Like Alma, I felt to cry out:  

O that I were [a foreign language missionary] , and could have the wish of mine heart, that I might go forth and speak with the trump of God, with a voice to shake the earth, and cry repentance unto every people! Yea, I would declare unto every soul, as with the voice of thunder, repentance and the plan of redemption, that they should repent and come unto our God, that there might not be more sorrow upon all the face of the earth (verse 1).

But my dreams were wrapped with guilt as I, like Alma, recognized that I should be submissive to the will of the Lord:

But behold. . .I do sin in my wish; for I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted unto me (verse 3).

So I sought to move forward with faith as I hit my first area in the mission: Thatcher, Arizona, a small Mormon town. As missionaries, one of our daily goals was to talk to at least 20 people on the streets. In my first area, this turned out to be a daily struggle. With regular temperatures of 110 degrees, the mostly residential area resembled a ghost town–not a soul in sight. One particular day, we walked out of our apartment looking for someone to talk to. We looked across the street to the Post Office–no one. We walked over to the only other public place in the vicinity–a gas station. No one was around, BUT there was a car parked at one of the pumps. . .and his window was rolled down. Opportunity was calling, so we approached the vehicle. My companion and I introduced ourselves and started making small talk. As the young man responded, I could make out an accent.
“I like your accent! Where are you from?” I asked.
“Romania” was his reply.
“Ba nu!” (no way!) I responded and proceeded to speak with him in Romanian.

My companion stood there a little dumbfounded, not quite sure how she could be of use at that moment. In hopes of finding someone else to talk to, she looked around to see a young lady walking toward the car. As my companion conversed with her, she found out a handful of interesting things:

1) This girl (Jenny) and the Romanian (Michael) were dating {names are changed}
2) She was a member of the church
3) He was not a member of the church
4) Her parents had tried multiple times to convince him to take the lessons
5) He was not in the least bit interested
6) In hopes of having them stop bugging him to take the lessons he offered a “compromise” which would surely leave them powerless: “If you find me a missionary who speaks Romanian THEN I’ll take the lessons.”

. . .Well. . .there I was.

Recognizing that he had kinda painted himself into a corner, he agreed to take the lessons. As I taught with a limited Romanian vocabulary, my wonderful companion prayed for The Spirit to be there and that the right words would come to my mind. We continued to teach the lessons and to watch him progress little by little, but eventually we parted ways. My companion and I were transferred out of the area and Michael and Jenny moved away. I was grateful that the Lord allowed me to plant a seed, but was unsure if or when it would ever blossom. However, one day as my companion and I were getting ready for bed, we received a phone call, letting me know that Michael was getting baptized! As I hung up the phone, my heart filled with gratitude and peace as my own words echoed in my mind: “Surely the Lord had given me this ‘gift of tongues’ for a reason!” As it turns out, Michael was enough of a reason. Truly, the worth of [a soul] is great in the sight of God.

“Sadly, in today’s world, a person’s importance is often judged by the size of the audience before which he or she performs. . . That may be why roles such as father, mother, and missionary seldom receive standing ovations. Fathers, mothers, and missionaries “play” before very small audiences. Yet, in the eyes of the Lord, there may be only one size of audience that is of lasting importance—and that is just one, each one, you and me, and each one of the children of God. The irony of the Atonement is that it is infinite and eternal, yet it is applied individually, one person at a time.” – Elder M. Russell Ballard

Other suggested verses:

Jacob 4:10
Alma 29:8