When missionaries from our church first arrived in Utila they found five churches, five different denominations, all of them Christian. There were also five bars on the island and the bars were always filled with people every day. The churches only had people come on Sundays and even then not so much as the bars. So, there was some fierce competition for converts between the denominations.
But by the time we arrived a sort of truce or understanding had been agreed upon, and an uneasy peace had been established between the churches. Our arrival upset that delicate balance and introduced a lot of fear and tension into the pastors and leaders of the various denominations.
There was one church which was very open and kind to us and they invited us into their homes and asked us to visit their services. We would talk with them about their beliefs and they were very curious about us and what we were teaching and so we taught them about Mormons and what The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints believes.
Because rumor had preceded our visits with them, they didn't think that we were Christians at first. They were very relieved when they discovered that we believed in Christ and taught his gospel and they became friendly and supportive of us from then on. They would often attend our services and we went to theirs whenever we had the time.
But all of the other churches saw us as a threat and openly preached within their own congregations what they saw as the evils of Mormonism. We could hear some of their sermons from the street as we passed by and we were the subject of many sermons. For the most part they kept their opinions about us private and held them within the walls of their own chapels. But sometimes they would spill out into the street as we passed them. They were never violent, but they all let us know we were not welcome there and should leave at our earliest convenience.
There was one preacher and congregation for which I held a lot of compassion. This preacher truly hated us, not because he knew us or even anything about us, but because of what we had done to his congregation. All of the members of our church on the island had come from his congregation except one.
I don't pretend to understand how that must have made him feel and can only tell you that he hated us. But if pressed, I would have to imagine that he must have felt that he had in some way failed those he taught perhaps feeling that he had not insulated his flock sufficiently against our message prior to our arrival. Maybe he even felt foolish and humiliated beside his peers because only his church seemed affected by our presence. But even though I knew my kind and sympathetic thoughts would offer this man no comfort I truly admired him.
I held this man in such great esteem because I believed he was someone who truly taught the gospel of Jesus Christ more correctly than anyone else on the island. He had prepared the people who attended his sermons so well that when they heard the truth and felt God's spirit, they recognized and accepted it.
I wanted to tell him how much I admired him but I knew, because of the feelings he harboured for us, that I would never be able to tell him how I really felt. I would have loved to have sat in on some of his sermons and felt his spirit as he spoke of Christ. But I knew that would never be possible either.
We actually started teaching this man's sister and her family without knowing who she was. The discussion went so well and the spirit was so strong that both she and her husband invited us back for a second visit. She was so impressed with our teachings that despite her brother's sermons to the contrary, she told him about our visit and asked her brother to come and listen to what we had to say.
When we went by later for our second discussion her brother was there waiting for us on the porch and told us that he couldn't believe that we would actually try to proselytize his sister away from him and his congregation. We were very embarrassed because we had no idea until that moment that we had been teaching his sister.
We told him that we would not return again unless she and her husband both invited us back and asked for his forgiveness. But we did point out that both his sister and brother-in-law were adults, and if we were invited back, we would return.
This angered him and he assured us that that would never happen and he was right, it didn't. He then told us that we should leave the island and that there was no room on the island for men such as us who were so full of sin. I confessed to him that I certainly was not perfect and reminded him that all men sin and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23), and that Christ knew full well when the woman caught in adultry was brought before him that no man would cast a stone at her when He invited with He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her (John 8:7) because all men save Him have sinned.
He then informed us that he was one who had no sin and had been raised to a sinnless state through the grace of God. Well, my companion who hadn't said anything up to this point had heard more than he could bear and he asked this preacher if he was familiar with 1John 1:8-10. He said no and when my companion quoted it to him he became so infuriated that he couldn't speak at first, and after regaining his composure somewhat, he simply told us to leave and never return. We never returned there because we were never invited back. But we would have gone back if invited.
It was an impossible situation for both of us and one I deeply regret. I know this sounds cliche, but had we met under different circumstances, I like to pretend we could have been friends, but I'm not so naive as you might think and recognize the improbability of such a friendship occurring even under the best of circumstances given who we were and what we represented to this man.
What made our relationship all the more tense was that our church met in the building immediately to the right of this man's chapel. This was purely coincidental and at the time we retained the building we met in for our use, it was the only building on the island available and suitable to our needs. But being so close made our relationship with the church next door more difficult than it would have otherwise been.
Anyway there was this older gentleman on the island who was from Arizona (USA). He had retired there and although he had no interest in our message, around Christmas time he invited us into his house and over a glass of lemonade told us that he wanted to give us a Christmas present. He told us to ask for whatever we wanted.
He was very wealthy and we knew he was completely serious and willing to give us whatever we wanted (within reason, I guess...we never explored the true limits of his generosity as it was never in our nature to take advantage of others).
We told him that wasn't necessary but when he insisted my companion surprised me when he said okay, there was one thing we wanted. I turned to my companion and said what do we want Elder? And he informed both me and this generous gentleman that we wanted cement and sand and gravel to pour a walkway into our chapel. He felt that our chapel deserved the dignity of a walkway so that those attending our services wouldn't have to walk through the mud when it rained to get to church.
The man owned a construction company before he retired to the island and was tickled by our request and was curious how a couple of guys in dress shirts, slacks and ties would handle a cement job. We assured him that before our missions we were like anyone else and were sure we could handle the job.
I wasn't sure how much experience my companion had with cement but I had poured many yards of it with my father before my mission so I knew we could pull it off. He said he could never have guessed that we would ask him for such a gift and that it would be his pleasure to supply us with whatever we needed to pour our walk.
The next day all of the materials for our walkway had been delivered to the site and we began setting up the forms and mixing cement. By the end of the day we were finished and there was twenty five feet of the prettiest broom finished walkway that island had ever seen. It really was a beautiful walk and was the most professionally finished of any on the island.
It was cured enough by the next Sunday to handle foot traffic and as we stood at the head of the walk that first day we heard the preaching next door begin spilling out into the fresh morning air. We learned that day that although the streets in heaven are paved in gold, that the path to hell was most certainly paved with cement.
That day as we heard the opening refrains of another well crafted sermon we we were smug in our self righteousness and amused that something as small as a new walkway had elicited such a response from him. We were so blind and arrogant. We did what we felt was right but sometimes we were so imperfect in delivering the Lord's message. Sometimes our own feelings and the inexperience of youth left little more than good intentions, and I regret this now more than ever.
I was so young...only nineteen at that time and less than half the age of this good man. I would be so much more humble about missionary work now than I was then and would try to gauge my success less on the outward manifestations of success and more upon the way my work impacted those around me. But this is easier said than done and even now as I speak these words, I'm not sure I'd succeed. You see, the path to hell is also paved with good intentions...or so I'm told.
When the feelings of others gets lost in the work of the Lord, it ceases to be His work. I owe this man more than I could ever repay. Religion is such a sharp instrument that when mixed into the affairs of men, one can never quite be sure of the end result. It takes God's wisdom and guidance to wield it properly and well. Should we then who are imperfect be practicing religion at all? The answer is, of course, yes. How else can we learn anything from this important endeavor unless we try. But we should all check our egos at the door and seek God's wisdom and His glory and purposes before proceeding. Anything less than this is doomed to failure and is likely to hurt as much as help.
No one needs assume by what I've said above that I regret having served a mission. I don't. In fact, I'd do it all over again without giving it a second thought. I know what I did for the most part was right and I love my mission and the experience it gave me. I sincerely feel that God called me to do the things I did on my mission.
But the experiences gained certainly indicate a different tack in some instances. Practicing is what this life is all about. We learn by doing and hopefully, do more good than bad, provide more comfort than hurt and leave people better off for having known us. But because we are all imperfect, it is in fact merely practice; and sometimes it gets a little messy. I did do the best I could at that time. But hopefully, with the benefit of experience and hindsight, I could do much better now than I did then.
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