Back in July before I came back to Utah, I was reading David A. Bednar's book, Act In Doctrine. I had just finished a segment about the character of Christ, and how the Savior "turned outward" in service, even when he was in intense pain and could have been preoccupied with his own mission (it's a great book and you should read it!).
As I boarded the plane bound for Salt Lake City, I put the book in my bag, ready to pick it up again once I found a seat. I found the first available window seat next to a gentleman in his mid-thirties. We sat a seat apart from each other, and I got my book out again to continue reading about the character of Christ.
But then the Spirit said to me, "If you want to try out this principle, you should 'turn outward' and talk to this man, rather than ignore him."
Point taken. I closed my book and started talking to the man. This was not the first time I had tried to be friendly to someone on a flight with the intention of sharing the gospel, but I hadn't had much success before, so I was dubious.
Jim (can't remember his real name) was returning home after a fishing trip in Alaska. We chatted amiably about a few things, but he seemed hesitant. As I told him I was a music student at BYU, his face lit up, "Wow, that's amazing! I really wanted to go into the music business, but it never panned out."
We talked freely then for 30 minutes about our lives, our goals, etc. Still, even though I used the principles in "The Power of Everyday Missionaries", such as using Mormon lingo like "Missionary Homecoming", "Temple Square" and "Missionary Training Center", he didn't respond to any of it. I can't remember what else I said, but Jim finally told me "I used to be Mormon when I was a kid but I haven't been to church since I was 12. My whole family is gung-ho about the church and they keep trying to get me to come back." He told me he lost a brother, that an old lady had offended him after he passed the sacrament for the first time, and a couple of other issues that he had with the church. I apologized, but he said "Nah, those concerns are really dumb, and they're just little things that keep me from going."
Me: "Oh, ok. So if you don't mind me asking, what keeps you from coming to church?"
Jim: "I just don't think I believe in God. I take comfort in the fact that I don't know if He exists."
Me: "Huh. That's interesting. At least you're honest about what you know and what you don't know. Do you have any desire to know if God is there?"
Jim: "Maybe I did at one point, but I feel like that's passed."
Me: "Ok. Well, Jim, I think you are a wonderful guy, and you are so honest about your beliefs, so I want to be honest with you. I know that God does exist, because I've taken the time to ask Him. Do you know how you can know that God is there, if the desire comes back to you?"
Jim: "Not really..."
Me: "Sometimes, in the church, we think that everything has to be picture-perfect. But what it gets down to is honesty with yourself and honesty with God. You said you like to be in nature. That's a wonderful place where you can be totally honest with God. Jim, if you want to know if He is there, just go out by yourself like you're going hiking, and spill your guts out to God. Ask Him if He is there, take some quiet time to listen, and I know you'll get a feeling of peace and comfort, telling you that He is real."
Jim and I talked about this for quite some time. I used the analogy from "The Power of Everyday Missionaries" about Heaven being a library, and that God doesn't just throw a book at our heads unless we ask for something. He softened in his countenance, and I could see that he was grateful for my brutal honesty about my knowledge of God.
I felt a surge of gratitude that I could be a witness for Jesus Christ. Jim and I continued our conversation, as I listened to all the concerns he had about religion in general, and society. Here are some of the concerns he raised:
Jim: "The problem with society is that we are so concerned with material things. Everyone wants to fill their houses with things that don't mean anything."
Jim: "People just aren't nice to each other anymore. What happened to common decency? I wish more people were nice to talk to, like you."
Jim: "All of these organizations don't do anything for you, they're all just social constructs that keep us from thinking creatively."
Me: "Jim, I submit to you that the cure for every single problem you named is 1) knowing that God exists 2) understanding your relationship to Him, and 3) knowing what God expects of you. If everyone would just talk to God, know that He is their Father, and then do what He asks, none of the problems with materialism, selfishness, decency, and corruption would exist."
I still can't figure out where those words came from. Ok, well maybe I can, because I know that the Holy Ghost prompted me to talk to him in the first place, but this was a missionary experience unlike I had ever had.
We walked together to get our luggage from the baggage claim when the flight was over, and it killed me to say goodbye. I could feel my heart feeling so full of the Lord's love for him. I left my phone number on a piece of paper for him in case he ever wanted to chat, and then I left.
We shall see what the Lord has in store for Jim. Maybe not in this life, but certainly in time to come.
As I boarded the plane bound for Salt Lake City, I put the book in my bag, ready to pick it up again once I found a seat. I found the first available window seat next to a gentleman in his mid-thirties. We sat a seat apart from each other, and I got my book out again to continue reading about the character of Christ.
But then the Spirit said to me, "If you want to try out this principle, you should 'turn outward' and talk to this man, rather than ignore him."
Point taken. I closed my book and started talking to the man. This was not the first time I had tried to be friendly to someone on a flight with the intention of sharing the gospel, but I hadn't had much success before, so I was dubious.
Jim (can't remember his real name) was returning home after a fishing trip in Alaska. We chatted amiably about a few things, but he seemed hesitant. As I told him I was a music student at BYU, his face lit up, "Wow, that's amazing! I really wanted to go into the music business, but it never panned out."
We talked freely then for 30 minutes about our lives, our goals, etc. Still, even though I used the principles in "The Power of Everyday Missionaries", such as using Mormon lingo like "Missionary Homecoming", "Temple Square" and "Missionary Training Center", he didn't respond to any of it. I can't remember what else I said, but Jim finally told me "I used to be Mormon when I was a kid but I haven't been to church since I was 12. My whole family is gung-ho about the church and they keep trying to get me to come back." He told me he lost a brother, that an old lady had offended him after he passed the sacrament for the first time, and a couple of other issues that he had with the church. I apologized, but he said "Nah, those concerns are really dumb, and they're just little things that keep me from going."
Me: "Oh, ok. So if you don't mind me asking, what keeps you from coming to church?"
Jim: "I just don't think I believe in God. I take comfort in the fact that I don't know if He exists."
Me: "Huh. That's interesting. At least you're honest about what you know and what you don't know. Do you have any desire to know if God is there?"
Jim: "Maybe I did at one point, but I feel like that's passed."
Me: "Ok. Well, Jim, I think you are a wonderful guy, and you are so honest about your beliefs, so I want to be honest with you. I know that God does exist, because I've taken the time to ask Him. Do you know how you can know that God is there, if the desire comes back to you?"
Jim: "Not really..."
Me: "Sometimes, in the church, we think that everything has to be picture-perfect. But what it gets down to is honesty with yourself and honesty with God. You said you like to be in nature. That's a wonderful place where you can be totally honest with God. Jim, if you want to know if He is there, just go out by yourself like you're going hiking, and spill your guts out to God. Ask Him if He is there, take some quiet time to listen, and I know you'll get a feeling of peace and comfort, telling you that He is real."
Jim and I talked about this for quite some time. I used the analogy from "The Power of Everyday Missionaries" about Heaven being a library, and that God doesn't just throw a book at our heads unless we ask for something. He softened in his countenance, and I could see that he was grateful for my brutal honesty about my knowledge of God.
I felt a surge of gratitude that I could be a witness for Jesus Christ. Jim and I continued our conversation, as I listened to all the concerns he had about religion in general, and society. Here are some of the concerns he raised:
Jim: "The problem with society is that we are so concerned with material things. Everyone wants to fill their houses with things that don't mean anything."
Jim: "People just aren't nice to each other anymore. What happened to common decency? I wish more people were nice to talk to, like you."
Jim: "All of these organizations don't do anything for you, they're all just social constructs that keep us from thinking creatively."
Me: "Jim, I submit to you that the cure for every single problem you named is 1) knowing that God exists 2) understanding your relationship to Him, and 3) knowing what God expects of you. If everyone would just talk to God, know that He is their Father, and then do what He asks, none of the problems with materialism, selfishness, decency, and corruption would exist."
I still can't figure out where those words came from. Ok, well maybe I can, because I know that the Holy Ghost prompted me to talk to him in the first place, but this was a missionary experience unlike I had ever had.
We walked together to get our luggage from the baggage claim when the flight was over, and it killed me to say goodbye. I could feel my heart feeling so full of the Lord's love for him. I left my phone number on a piece of paper for him in case he ever wanted to chat, and then I left.
We shall see what the Lord has in store for Jim. Maybe not in this life, but certainly in time to come.
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