Lost in Taegu
March 4, 1990
The day had come to an end, and the four of us stopped at a small convenience shop near our apartment.
Elder Johnston, “We have 15 minutes, so get only what you need.”
I grabbed a couple of Choco Pies — the good kind. They're similar to our American moon pies, but in some ways better.
Elder Benjamin picked up a bottle of Canada Dry seltzer water, which was strange for two reasons. Number one: after almost two years, it was the first time I saw Canada Dry in Korea, and number two: it was usually used for mixing drinks, and we weren’t allowed to drink. A customer gave us a funny look.
“Elder Benjamin, are you sure you want that?” I asked.
“Um yeah. I love Canada Dry. I can’t believe they got it!”
“Isn’t that a picture of a cocktail right there?”
“It doesn’t have alcohol, so I’m buying it.” He took it to the cashier, who also gave us a funny look. Elders Johnston and Riley looked at us from a distance, but they were too far away to know what was going on. What they didn’t know didn’t hurt them.
Later on, Elder Benjamin would report, “Yuck. This tastes nothing like ginger ale,” and we would have a good laugh.
The cashier rang up my Choco Pies. So cheap and yummy! The other two elders were still picking out their needful things. We were faster than them. Heh!
I grabbed my bag, Elder Benjamin grabbed his, and he said, “Hey, check out that guy who just walked in.”
A skinny lonely-looking guy in his late 30s walked toward the back of the store. “What about him?” I asked.
“I’m going to go talk to him.”
“What? Why?” It was almost time to go. The other two were headed our way, about to ring up their purchases.
Elder Benjamin made like a bee toward the skinny guy, and the cashier gave him another funny look — a little miffed that he was going the wrong way out of the store?
Elder Johnston looked over at the cashier and then over at Elder Benjamin with a sense of alarm. He asked me, “What’s he doing?”
“He’s going to talk to that guy back there.”
“Oh, no he isn’t.” He rushed a little closer to Elder Benjamin. “Hey, let’s not bother the customers. This isn’t the place. We’ll get in trouble.”
Elder Benjamin ignored him and pursued the customer a little faster. He waved with a big smile, saying in Korean, “Hi! I’m Elder Benjamin. What’s your name?”
At first the skinny guy shrunk back, but then his face brightened. “My name is Nam Do-gyon. Are you a missionary?”
“Yes, I’m with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” At this point, Elder Johnston backed off. There was now no way to stop the interaction without creating a more embarrassing scene.
“I can see that,” said the skinny guy with a very soft and shy voice, pointing to Elder Benjamin’s name tag. “I’m a poet.”
“A poet?”
“Yes,” the man said in English. “I speaky little English.”
Elder Benjamin also switched to English. “Wow. That was good.” And then back to Korean. “Where did you learn English?”
“At school. And I’ve also tried to read a few books. But it's harder to speak. Do you happen to teach English?”
“Sure,” said Elder Benjamin. “Would you like us to come teach you? We can also teach a little about our church while we’re at it, if you’re interested.”
“That sounds like fun. Will you give me your business card? I can call you and invite you over to my place.” Koreans were really big on business cards. Most of them carried several everywhere they went, even if they didn’t own a business.
Elder Benjamin reached down into his kabang and pulled out a paper-back Mormon Gyeong — dark blue with a lightly laminated cover. He wrote his name, my name, and our phone number on the front page and then handed it to Do-gyon. “Here’s a gift. You can read this book and we can talk about it, too.”
Do-gyon took the book, and said, “Thanks. I’ll give you a call.” Then they shook hands.
While Do-gyon continued his shopping, Elder Benjamin returned to the three of us waiting at the door, smiling his usual crazy grin. The cashier shot another nasty look at us.
As we left, Elder Johnston said, “You have a unique style, Elder Benjamin.”
March 5, 1990
Do-gyon wasted very little time. He called us the next day and set up an appointment for the coming Friday evening. The plan was to do a quick English lesson, and then we would present a quick presentation on our church — in English.
He gave Elder Benjamin directions. Ride bus 175 to its very last stop, head west, and then when we saw a collection of houses, we would turn right and find his road.
Seemed simple enough. Little did we know what awaited us.
As the phone call came to an end, Elder Johnston gave us a thumbs-up. He still couldn’t believe that we had gotten a Discussion out of such a goofy introduction.
March 9, 1990
Our appointment was for 7:30PM, so the sun had already set, and it was getting darker. We got off the bus when the rest of the people did. A cool breeze welcomed us outside.
First step: head west. We thought we had a good sense of which way that was. The bus had taken us to a north-western sector of the city, next to a large industrial area. So, we kept going in the same direction the bus had been going.
Along the way, there were a couple of houses here and there, but not really any “collection” of houses. In the dusk, it was hard to see too far away. After about five minutes of walking, we finally came to something like a collection, and turned right.
Next step: find Do-gyon’s road. After another five minutes, we saw no other houses or connecting roads, and we came out into a big open area — the industrial section of town.
We had clearly taken a wrong turn.
“Well, Elder Elder,” said Elder Benjamin. “Do you see any houses anywhere near here?”
“No. It’s too dark. And look. It’s already 7:30. Any ideas?”
Keep in mind that we had no cellphones. There was no way to reach out to our investigator, and no pay phones anywhere in sight.
“Let’s go back and try again,” he said.
And so we went. We got back to the collection of houses, and I asked, “Are you sure he said to turn right? Maybe he meant left?”
“It’s worth a try.”
So we went the other way. By this time it was getting too dark to read road signs. We passed several streets, but from what we could make out, none of the names matched. This is when we realized we should have brought flashlights.
After another ten minutes of useless searching, we decided to give up. We went back to the collection of houses … however …
“Is this the same collection of houses where we go back?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. I forgot to count the streets.”
“Heck.”
Elder Benjamin said, “Let’s keep going down this road back to the open area. Then we’ll see where we are and where we’re going.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” I said. “Then we can head south and east until we find a bus stop.”
Our watches now said 8:00 and the coolness had dropped to a piercing chill. The wind cut through our trenchcoats.
The road took us back to the open industrial area. As we left the trees, and walked out into the open, there were no signs of residential life — no bus stops, no houses — not even the usual busy sounds beyond a distant rumbling. Just factories and parking lots.
The street lights were too bright for us to see the North Star, so we had to guess which way was southeast. We figured it was to our right — toward where we had come. We saw a tree line in that direction, and followed it, thinking we’d come back to something we’d recognize.
In hindsight, that decision had probably taken us in more of a northeastern direction, taking us deeper into factory territory, and further away from the bus stops.
“I can’t believe we messed this up,” said Elder Benjamin. “Do-gyon’s gonna be mad at us. We stood him up.”
“We’ll tell him the truth,” I said. “We got lost.”
“It’s not just that. This is just like my birthday, when we were in the middle of nowhere. They’re going to split us up this time. Do you think we can get back before 9:30?”
I looked at my watch, holding it just right in the ambient light. 8:26. We had just over an hour left, and still no signs of bus stops ahead of us. “Maybe. It’s going to be close.”
We continued walking through what appeared to be one large empty parking lot with factories sprinkled here and there. Did no one work this late on a Friday night? At which one did our lonely friend from the boonies work? If most people rode buses in this city, why were there such large parking lots?
As the temperature continued to drop, Elder Benjamin said, “I could certainly use a flaming pillar of fire right now.”
I laughed. “You know — it’s funny. You’d think if God were leading the people of Moses like that, they would have gotten to the Promised Land a lot sooner?”
“They went the way God wanted them to go.”
“If they were following instructions, wouldn’t God reward them? What if the pillar of fire was a comet in the sky, and they didn’t know the right way to follow it?”
Elder Benjamin stopped, so I did, too. He was going into spiritual mode, his face emanating uber seriousness. “But they weren’t following instructions. They rebelled all the time. Always complaining. They received bread from heaven, and they still complained. Remember that God told them the older generation wouldn’t make it into the Promised Land? They needed time so that the younger generation would get old enough to take over. God led them where he wanted them to go.”
I laughed again. “So, God wants us to be lost right now?”
“Maybe.” He always stared into nothingness when he waxed spiritual. “Perhaps one of the Three Nephites will visit us and lead us in the right direction.” He started walking again, so I followed.
“The Three Nephites?” I said. “Really? I don’t think so.”
“Think about it. They asked Jesus to allow them to tarry on this earth until He returns. They could be anywhere.”
“Weren’t they taken back up during the Great Apostasy?” I asked.
“No.” He looked at me with a face that told me I was about to be corrected. “They’re still on the earth, as to take them up would contradict what Jesus had promised them. The Book of Mormon only says they were removed from the land of Zarahemla because of the wickedness of the people. But they’re still here, and they can appear to any of us at any time. They can even look like someone else.”
“Wait — they can change their faces? I’ve never heard anything like that. Besides, they’d never waste their time on us. Don’t they have more important things to do?”
“You never know,” said Elder Benjamin as he stopped again. “My Grandmother plays the violin. When she was young, her dad told her to go practice outside because it was terrible. So she sat on the front porch, holding her violin, crying. A perfect stranger saw her, walked up to the porch, and asked to see the violin. He played it masterfully — the most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard. Then he handed it back and said, ‘Keep it up and you can play like that.’ And she did. She even got to play in the Utah Symphony.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. I think it was one of the Three Nephites who visited her.”
I rolled my eyes. Another one of those crazy stories that wasn’t helping us get home. “Well, I don’t see anybody at all right now. Just empty factories and parking lots. It’s 9:00, and we have 30 minutes to get home. We’re not going to make it. It’s already too late.” This time I was the one to start walking.
But he didn’t follow.
“Wait, there’s one thing we haven’t tried,” he said. “Remember the Liahona? It pointed the way for Lehi to go only by the faith of the people.”
“Well, we certainly won’t make it back if we don’t keep moving. I have faith. We’ll find the way. I can feel it. Let’s go.” I pushed forward and again he didn’t follow.
I turned around, sighing, and was ready to lecture about faith in action, but then Elder Benjamin said simply, “If we ask, God will point us in the right direction.”
How could I have forgotten one of the most basic principles? And it had not even occurred to me. “A prayer?” I said. “At this point, anything’s worth a shot. You want to go ahead and say it?”
In the middle of a massive parking lot, he went down on one knee, and I followed, the coldness chilling through my pants leg as it touched the ground. After a few seconds of silence, he started his prayer. “Oh, Father in Heaven. We are grateful for this opportunity to serve thee. And as you can see, we are lost. We made a wrong turn. Please forgive us of our shortcomings, and please show us the way. Please send us thy inspiration. Deliver us from this coldness. And if it be thy will, please let us get home on time. Please open our hearts, and our minds, so that we will be receptive of thy Spirit. And please bless Do-gyon. Let us have another opportunity to meet with him and teach him the gospel. With thee, anything is possible. We know that thou can deliver us, and show us the way. We ask these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”
I answered, “Amen,” and then we got back up. I looked around, and said, “Okay. What comes next?”
“Shhh. Just listen,” he said.
I heard the wind blowing, picking up, cutting through our overcoats again. I heard silence in the wind. No cars, no signs of humanity. And then there it was — an overwhelming sense of comfort. Everything was going to be all right. I said, “I think we’re going to be home by 9:30.”
Elder Benjamin said, “Look behind us.”
It was impossible, but there it was. Headlights coming our way!
“How in the world?” I said. “Who would be travelling here at this time of night?”
“We asked,” said Elder Benjamin. “And God has delivered.”
Well, only if the car stopped for us. I wondered: the car had to have already been on its way before we said our prayer. What if we had not said it? Would the car still come? Would they see us? Perhaps the prayer helped alert us to the car’s presence — behind us? Now, Elder Benjamin was waving it down, and it did seem to be correcting its path to come directly toward us. Still, God had to have known beforehand when we were going to say the prayer. Perhaps one day we’ll understand how it all works. But one thing was for sure. God certainly seemed to listen to Elder Benjamin.
As the car got closer, we saw that it was actually a bus. Number 256-1. One I wasn’t familiar with. I knew of 256, but not 256-1. We really were in a strange place. The bus came up to us and stopped, and the front door opened.
We stepped in, and Elder Benjamin took point. I was too dazed to think. The bus driver was a happy old man, and behind him across the aisle, sat an old lady minding her own business. The rest of the bus was empty.
Elder Benjamin said to the driver in Korean, “Thanks for stopping. We’re lost. Which way are you heading?”
The driver answered, “I’m going home. Where are you going?”
Elder Benjamin told him where our complex was, and the driver said, “I’m going right past there, so sit down and I’ll take you there.”
We tried to put bek-won coins into the box (their version of quarters), but the driver wouldn’t let us. “I’m not on duty. It isn’t necessary. Come on. Sit down and we’ll go.”
We sat down behind him, and I looked at my watch. 9:10. We were going to make it!
Across the aisle, the old lady smiled at us, and then turned to look out her window as the bus started moving.
In our seat, I sat next to the window, and Elder Benjamin had the aisle. He smiled and said to me in English, “See? We asked and we received. But the night isn’t over yet.” Of course. I should have known what was coming next. I was just thankful that we were on a bus going home, and part of me wanted Elder Benjamin to leave the nice bus driver alone. After all, he was giving us a free ride. But one thing I had learned: Elder Benjamin will do what he does, and there’s no stopping it.
He turned to the driver. “Thanks for taking us home. What were you doing in this area? Buses don’t run around here.”
The driver laughed heartily. “Taking a shortcut.”
I did the math in my head — calculating the odds of this being true.
“Have you been driving buses very long?” asked Elder Benjamin.
“Not really. This is just something I wanted to do after a long life.” The man constantly exuded incredible happiness. “What do you two gentlemen do?”
“We’re missionaries,” said Elder Benjamin. “From the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“Wow. That’s an impressively long name. Tell me more.” It was at this point I realized he wasn’t going to throw us off the bus.
Elder Benjamin talked briefly about how we came from the US, living in Korea for two years to share our message. And he worked his way toward the Book of Mormon, as we were behind our goals of handing them out. The driver seemed to be very interested in the people of the book: the Nephites and the Lamanites. The old lady continued smiling, staying out of the discussion.
As we neared our stop, Elder Benjamin went in for the kill. “We’d like to present this book as a gift to you. Please receive it.”
And then the driver said, “No, no. I don’t need it. I’m okay.”
“It’s okay,” said Elder Benjamin. “It seems you’ve enjoyed our discussion, and we have a lot of these. Please take it.”
And again, the driver held up his hand. “No. I’m sure it’s a good book, but I don’t need it. You can give it to someone else.”
Elder Benjamin looked to me. A puzzled face asking me to say something. I wasn’t sure what I could say, and asking a third time seldom worked, but it was worth a try. I said, “We have to give you something for your kindness.”
Then the driver then said, “Okay. I’ll take it,” and he held out his hand behind his back.
Elder Benjamin gave him the book. “Okay. Here you go. I’ve written our number in there. So if you have any questions, you can give us a call. We’d love to hear what you think about it.”
This whole time, the old lady kept up her smiling. She was listening. Elder Benjamin handed another book in her direction, and she raised both her hands, shaking her head. Then Elder Benjamin put the book back in his kabang.
“You are working very hard,” said the bus driver as we neared our stop. “Thanks to you both for serving the Lord. And may you receive many rewards.”
We got that a lot from people who were already Christian, and who had already decided not to join our church — saying something nice to appease us. He might as well have said, “Nice try. I’ll call you. Don’t call me.” And it was a shame. He did seem interested when Elder Benjamin talked about our church. You can’t always satisfy everyone.
The bus driver opened the door for us to exit, and we said thanks. We waved as we exited, and he waved back.
We walked around the back of the bus so we could cross the street from behind. That’s what people did in Korea — never cross in front of the bus.
However, we didn’t hear the bus leave just yet. Was the driver finishing up paperwork? Waiting to see we crossed the street safely?
With the bus behind us, Elder Benjamin said, “This had to be God’s doing. This man was inspired to show up when and where he did, and to be an answer to our prayer. God knows everything and he will always provide a way.”
“Yes,” I said. “There’s no way he drives that way every …” and I turned around. The bus was gone. “Whoa!”
“What?” said Elder Benjamin. He also turned around. “Where did the bus go?”
We looked down the road, which stretched ahead of us at least half a mile, and there was no bus.
“That’s impossible,” I said.
“No,” said Elder Benjamin. “It happened.”
And somehow we knew the bus driver would never call us back.
Next Adventure: The Cake and Gidgiddoni
