JUNGLE SECLUSION

The following story was told to me by a missionary. I will put it in my own words:

I had been on my mission to Ecuador for about four months. Revolutions against the government seemed to be happening almost monthly but, so far, the government had been able to put down insurrections. As my companion and I approached our preparation day we got permission from the mission president to go into the jungle in search of some Mayan ruins that we had heard were not far from a jungle road. It would require that we leave at 5AM on our off duty day, but we felt it would be worth it.

We had borrowed a vehicle that was in good working order and the two of us were looking forward to a day without our shirts and ties. We put on our grubs and headed out. We arrived at one of the densest spots and decided to stop for awhile and have lunch. After eating, we climbed to a vantage point to see how far we were from a farmhouse or civilization of any sort. We saw none. We also looked for any signs of ancient ruins but were disappointed. We then returned to our vehicle, but when attempting to start it up, it just cranked but would not start. My companion and I had some basic skills in fixing vehicles but could not get it to start.

I finally suggested to my missionary companion that we pray that the vehicle would start so that we could return to our living quarters. I had complete faith that the Lord was watching after his missionaries and that the vehicle would begin working again, however, it would not. This filled me with deep disappointment and then anger. Why would God abandon his loyal servants? By then it was beginning to get dark and the idea of spending the night in the jungle, sleeping in our vehicle was not attractive. We had brought no extra food or equipment with us. Why is this happening? I thought that perhaps God was testing us.

At about 2AM, a farmer, driving a battered old truck, drove by and we told him of our problem. He offered to bring us back to our hut. As we got there the landlord’s wife said, “Oh Elders, it is so fortunate that you were not here. The rebels were looking for you at 6AM yesterday saying you were really American spies and that they wanted to take you hostage. At about 2AM, government troops drove them out and now I see you have safely returned.”

What if God had granted my prayer to start the car? We would have been captured or killed. By staying in the jungle, we were kept safe. Why would a “farmer” be traveling at 2AM on a deserted road in an area where we had seen no farms? Why had he disappeared after our landlord’s wife told us of the rebels? We had not even time to thank him. On later occasions we walked right past mobs of revolutionaries and they did not even see us. Sometimes it is better that God not answer our prayers in the way we would like.

THE BEGINNING

I was raised Roman Catholic and attended catechism from 9th to 12th grade; what we would call seminary today, except it wasn’t early morning, but rather, afternoon classes after public school. I was an altar boy and at one time aspired to attend theological school to be a minister or priest. This desire soon faded however, and I went to Church out of duty. There were so many things I didn’t understand. I thought my feelings were unusual but really, they had been asked by millions before me.

Where did I come from? Why am I here? Where am I going after this life is over? Life made no sense to me. Is it all about seeking pleasure and avoiding pain? Why is God, three beings in one? Is He some sort of formless glob? How do we pray to such a Being? I thought that if this is the best religion has to offer, I want none of it. After I was old enough to leave home, I did not darken the door of any church and finally joined the military.

My conversion to the Gospel of Jesus Christ began after I returned from Vietnam. I had married a Mormon girl by then, but my wife and our two year daughter were not home at the time the missionaries came by. We had visiting teachers and home teachers, but I thought they were part of “her religion.”

Two LDS missionaries knocked on my door during the fall of 1973. (I later learned that my wife had sent them). I invited them in and listened to their message, at first, because I wondered how they justified having more than one wife, which shows where my knowledge was at that time.
My spouse and my in-laws had told me a few things about the Church and I had attended sacrament meeting and ward socials, but really knew next to nothing of the doctrine.
The Elders happened to call on me when I was attending education classes so I had much more free time than when I was working twelve hour days on the aircraft flight line.

The Book of Mormon had been filed under science fiction in the public libraries I had been to. Back then I read a lot of science fiction novels; so I was shocked to discover it was really a sacred book that testified of Christ. The missionaries gave me a few verses in that book to study along with some pamphlets; and said they would be back with more reading in a day or two.
After they left, my wife and daughter came home and I explained what happened and she admitted she had sent them. I decided to just skim what the Book of Mormon was about, but the more I read, the more fascinated I became. My wife read with me that evening, but eventually fell asleep. I read all the pamphlets and was reading the Book of Mormon late into the night. For the most part, I found the Book of Mormon much easier to read than the Bible and the Spirit bore witness that it was true, although even my experience with the Bible was extremely limited.

Before long I had completed the missionary lessons and was baptized and confirmed by my home teacher. Since then, over 35 years ago, I am the happiest I’ve ever been and strive with all my heart to keep God’s laws. The Church has been my lifelong companion ever since and I’m immensely proud to be a member.