Upcoming Adventures of Elder Elder and Elder Benjamin

This is just a small announcement. Up to now, I've written four adventures for Elder Elder and Elder Benjamin. You can catch up and see all of them here.

And I have thirty more episodes planned. Yeah ... that's right. Thirty. I finished up a planning session today, and I've laid everything out over the full five-month period from 1989-12-14 to 1990-05-09.

Up to now I had chosen four random stories that stuck out -- some of my more favorite episodes -- to get things going. But now I will start going in chronological order for more continuity. And yeah -- I'll probs put this together into a book when I'm done. 

The stories to come will show even more aspects of the mission life -- some good times, some not-so-good times. Some happy moments and sad moments, and even having to deal with everyday items in a strange land. And you'll get to learn more about the Elders and their roommates. In some cases, these other minor characters can be quite interesting -- something I may have failed to capture, but don't worry -- it's on the way.

And I'll warn you now: the last episode is going to be a tear-jerker. Seeing how that'll most likely be a couple of years away, you'll probably forget this warning, but yeah -- I warned you.

In the end there will be 34 episodes of Elder Elder and Elder Benjamin, and the world will NOT be the same. As I add more episodes, you can always see the full list here.

Now it's time for me to get back to writing!

Can a Rich Man Enter Heaven?

Here's another big question I've had growing up in the Church. What does it mean when Jesus says it's hardly possible for a rich person to enter heaven? This seems to be a big paradox to me, which I'll explain...

First, in Matthew 19, a rich man approaches Jesus and says he's followed the Law of Moses and the commandments. He asks: "what lack I yet?" (verse 20). And then Jesus suggests that he sell everything he has and give it to the poor.

In response, the rich man walks away in sorrow.

And Jesus says to his disciples:

... a rich man shall hardly enter into the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 19:23)

Ouch! Sounds a little harsh. Jesus continues on ...

... It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. (Matthew 19:24)

Pouring salt on that wound! I'm not sure what the definition of a rich man is -- but I'm getting a little worried here. It's worth noting: many believe the words "eye of a needle" refers not to an actual needle, but rather a small passageway in some walls of Jerusalem. It's small enough for a human to pass -- but good luck getting a camel through there. This changes the meaning of His statement: rather than basically saying "impossible," he refers to a concept in which a task is feasibly possible with enough effort.

And if "rich" means: "anyone who is not poor, homeless, etc.", then a lot of us are in trouble. But this doesn't make sense. If everyone were to sell everything they own -- well, for starters, who would buy the stuff (as they wouldn't be going to heaven)? And how could any meaningful society function?

Perhaps the disciples were thinking along the same lines when they asked:

Who then can be saved? (Matthew 19:25)

And Jesus' answer:

With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible. (Matthew 19:26)

Okay: so we have a chance?

In my case: I'm richer than some, but there are many who make hundreds and thousands times more what I do. I give a chunk of my money to charity. I also have a mission, which is to help change lives and help to raise others up through music and the written word. This all requires money. I need to be able to support my family, and my mission is evidently not a self-supporting steady stream of income, so I must get "rich" through other means if I have any hope of succeeding in my mission.

And I observe many rich people in my Church. Following its teachings -- especially those centering on self-reliance, it's easy to become successful and "rich." And many of these members also donate a large chunk of their money to charity. And I often see them providing service without pay -- helping neighbors in need, participating in service projects, etc.

Surely all of these people aren't doomed to fall short of heaven because of their successes.

Then again, if I flip my view outside the Church ... outside of Christianity ... outside of any religion, I see a big correlation between richness and a lack of faith. I've seen many who feel no need to believe in any kind of God. Maybe they give to charity, or maybe they're just too busy living their extravagant life style. Why does one need religion when they already find happiness in all the things and events surrounding them in their everyday life?

Perhaps this is what Jesus is talking about?

But then again, the rich guy visiting Jesus seemed to already believe and was already taking action to show his faith -- like what I do. So, then I start worrying again. I can't sell all my stuff. I can't do that to my family. I can't give up my stewardship. I can't turn myself into some hermit monk who'd have absolutely no power to help others while selfishly cutting myself off from interacting with others while trying to obtain some enlightenment that would maybe gain me entrance into the kingdom of heaven. That doesn't sound like the way one should gain salvation.

Okay -- I'm still trying to figure this whole thing out. Y'all got any ideas?

P. S.: After I had typed up this quick post -- it kept bugging me: hadn't I already written about this? Sure enough -- two years ago, this is what I wrote. A lot of it is the same, but there are enough differences that this version is worth publishing.

The Adventures of Elder Elder and Elder Benjamin: The Ugly Ties

 

The Ugly Ties

April 16, 1990

I realize the main reason you read these stories is to get a healthy dose of Elder Benjamin, but today’s story is going to be mainly about me, Elder Elder, but don’t worry. I’ll bring in Elder Benjamin a little later on — I promise.

But first, we need to go way back into the past near the beginning of my mission, at a time I could hardly speak the language, when I had to rely on my senior companions.

Early 1989 or maybe even late 1988? You’ll never know.

Yeah, I’m going to obscure the date in this story, because I’m going to talk about one of my senior companions, Elder Scrooge. And yeah — that isn’t his real name, but you can probably guess which way this story is going to go. I’m not going to reveal his identity, and giving an exact date would do just that. And by the time I’m done with him, I don’t think you’re going to like him.

Though, I should let you know upfront: He was actually a good guy. Everyone has their Elder Scrooge — someone you just don’t get along with. Some missionaries just brush off the experience and move on, but for others it can be a devastating event, even leading to PTSD. It’s not necessarily that the companion is a terrible person, but rather just a simple clash of personalities.

I may have mentioned that Elder Benjamin was by far my favorite companion in my entire mission. Well, Elder Scrooge was the antithesis of this. He was two months of pure torture. And if I had my choices, I would have chosen another companion.

However, in another way, the lessons I learned in those two months were tremendously valuable later on in life — for all the times I must interact with people who don’t quite like me. Because of Elder Scrooge, I now know how to gain the respect of people who disagree with me, and how to find ways to push forward.

It took me nearly the whole two months to realize Elder Scrooge was indeed a good person, after which I came to understand him, and I believe he finally came to understand me. And you know what? I was probably his Elder Scrooge as well.

So — now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s get back to the story. Let’s destroy Elder Scrooge.

I first met him when the whole district picked me up on Transfer Day.

The tallest missionary held out his hand. “Hi Elder Elder. I’m Elder Patterson, the district leader.”

I shook his hand. “Hey, Elder Patterson.”

“And this is your new companion, Elder Scrooge.”

He shook my hand. “Hey Elder Elder. Good to meet you.”

Then Elder Patterson said, “And this is my companion — still green. Elder Bob.”

I shook his hand, too. “Hey Elder Bob. Is that really your last name?”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “It confuses people back home. So many people call me Bob. And what about your name? Elder Elder? That’s not confusing. At least in Korean it’s Elder changno.”

“I know. Otherwise it would be: Elder Elder Elder Elder Elder …”

Elder Bob laughed, but Elder Scrooge frowned. “All right, stop it you guys. We need to act like Elders.”

That interaction didn’t phase me much at the time. As the senior missionary, he was simply guiding us greenies in our interactions. But I did find it weird that he said nearly nothing to me on our bus ride back to our household.

I didn’t fully realize I was in trouble till the next day when we had our morning household prayer. Throughout my whole mission, we missionaries did this every morning — a quick prayer, hymn, and reading out of the missionary handbook, and sometimes a spiritual thought.

And here, I always shined during the hymn singing. As I may have mentioned before, I’m musically inclined — perfect pitch, good sight-reader, composer, and contagious. While most missionaries sang the melody in unison, I would get them to sing in parts. Most of the time, all it took was for me to sing bass, and eventually another would throw in tenor, and sometimes a modified alto. And it would become a thing in these morning hymn singings. It was always a positive experience, and no one ever complained — all the many times I had done this before and after my mission as well.

Well — except for this one singular time …

The hymn was 243 (149 in Korean), “Let Us All Press On,” which is famous for it’s dividing lines in the chorus. As the sopranos continue the melody with “Fear not, though the enemy deride,” the other three parts sing entirely different rhythms — a rather cool effect not present in most hymns.

So, I did what I did best. When it came to the chorus, I followed the bass. The others kept singing the melody while I sang my own distinct rhythms. Halfway through the chorus, Elder Scrooge elbowed me, and said, “Sing harmony.” And he went back to singing.

Interesting. Wasn’t I hitting the bass notes perfectly? And I heard the others singing better. What was he talking about? So I kept on singing the bass. And again he elbowed me, this time harder. “Sing harmony with the rest of us.” The other two elders eyed us disapprovingly.

I stopped and said, “I am singing harmony.” 

“No you’re not.”

“Right here …,” I said, pointing to the music. “I’m singing the bass notes.”

“That’s not harmony.” Needless to say: the hymn had fallen apart.

“Yes it is,” I said.

In an angry mock-quiet whisper, he said, “You’re making a scene. We’ll talk about this after our meeting.”

It was good I wasn’t the one to say the prayer next. Elder Scrooge knew nothing about music. The word he meant to say was: “unison.” That’s what it’s called when everyone sings the same note — usually the melody. Harmony is when people sing different notes, but together, the whole sounds nice. Cacophony is when people sing differently and none of it makes sense. For some reason, I guess that’s what he heard — like I was destroying the Spirit showing off my skills. Ironically, it was he who had introduced cacophony when he talked and interrupted a perfectly nice thing.

When I tried to explain it to him, he would have none of it. He wasn’t interested in a music lesson, so he cut me off, reminding me that he was the senior, and I had to do what he said.

From that day forward, at the suggestion of Elder Patterson, I decided to sing unison in an effort to keep the peace. But in my stubbornness, I allowed it to be a daily reminder of my resentment; and also my frustration, as I knew I could be sharing my special talents to strengthen the Spirit and our relationships. But as it was, the Spirit would be visiting other households for the next two months.

A couple of weeks later.

We received a phone call, and Elder Patterson handed it to me. It was the ponbu (the mission office). Elder Simon, the AP (another missionary as assistant to the President), told me there was a nationwide music contest in Pusan, and they wanted me to enter in the spirit of outreach.

“So, what do you think?” asked Elder Simon. “Can we enter you into this contest?”

“Sure,” I said. “But I don’t have any music with me. I’ll have to compose something. That’s going to take some time.”

“Well,” he said. “You have a week. Is that enough time?”

“Maybe. I’ll have to find time throughout the day. Elder Scrooge calls the shots.”

“We can arrange it. Please put your companion on the phone.”

I was probably smiling too much when I handed Elder Scrooge the phone. He didn’t look happy. I couldn’t help feeling a little vindicated. This time he had to do what I needed to be done.

“But we’re incredibly busy,” said Elder Scrooge on the phone. “We have new member discussions, and we’re behind on our Mormon Gyeong’s.” This was a half-truth. We didn’t really do that much beyond hanging around a newly baptized high school kid, Kang-su. He had a lot of questions about the Church, supposedly, but somehow it always turned into sightseeing.

“Okay,” said Elder Scrooge. “I understand. It’s important. Sure. We’ll find time.”

A win for me! Keep in mind that we were required to accompany each other 24 hours of the day. This is true of all missionaries worldwide — taking to heart the scripture references of “two by two.” So, I didn’t have the option to disappear alone to the church and compose all day long while Elder Scrooge proselyted.

As I was to find out, these orders from the mission office still didn’t give me the authority to take over. As the senior companion, Elder Scrooge still had to dictate when I got to compose. It also meant nothing was going to happen that day, because he had to think about when I could compose.

The next day, Elder Scrooge found time for us go shopping for music paper. When I had started my mission, I had promised myself that I would set aside composing over the next two years so I could concentrate more on the Lord’s work. So, I had left all my music at home. But since I was now given a special mission to compose, it was okay to break that promise — or rather, adjust it.

We went to a cheap bookstore, and I found a cheap spiral-bound notation book. It said AMADEUS in English on the front and featured a pointillistic depiction of a conductor. On the inside: twelve staves per page (much better than the popular ten), and cute Korean markings at the top for titles and composer names.

Immediately afterward, we went to the church. While I composed, Elder Scrooge had arranged to meet Kang-su to give him the next new member discussion. So, I sat at the piano in the makeshift chapel, on the second floor above a grocery store. At the same time, Elder Scrooge sat in the same chapel with Kang-su, pretending to give a discussion. To me it looked like their usual playing around: telling jokes and stories to each other.

And so I composed. I chose an arrangement of A-ri-rang, the most famous Korean folk tune. They told me to do something Korean, and I had already announced that I would arrange a “traditional folk song.” It was going to be short, and it wouldn’t take me long to compose. All I would need was three hours tops. In a way, it felt that I was in heaven again: putting pencil to paper and shaping music.

After just one hour, Elder Scrooge cut me off. “It’s time for lunch. Let’s go. Did you finish it?”

“I’ve just started.”

“Seriously? How hard can it be? I thought you were a composer. Maybe we can come back tomorrow. We have a busy day today.”

A busy day doing nothing, really. And I didn’t get any time to compose the next day.

I suppose I could continue giving all the gory details, but I think you get the picture. At this time, you’re probably wondering, “What does any of this have to do with ugly ties?” and we’re already halfway through the story. We’ll get there. I may not be the best story teller, but I promise to bring everything together by the end. But yeah — let’s skip the next few days.

One week later

I didn’t get my three hours to compose. I did get in one more session that didn’t last long. In the eyes of Elder Scrooge, I had had sufficient time.

The day of the contest, I went over Elder Scrooge’s head and arranged with Elder Patterson to get us all there one hour early so I could finish the arrangement. Since all four of us got to go, it was Elder Patterson’s decision.

Unfortunately, the trip to Pusan took a few minutes longer, and it took us at least twenty minutes to find a piano where I could compose, so that hour quickly became less than half an hour. And I hurried to finish the composition — I had already written down the beginning and the end. I also had most of a middle part, which imitated the Chopin music I heard every day in Korea as students practiced with their windows open. However, I didn’t have the transition from middle to end. If I had 30 uninterrupted minutes, I could have pulled it off, but all three elders were talking — about me — and my procrastination till the last minute. Very distracting, and I couldn’t compose well when I was angry.

When I wasn’t finished yet, Elder Patterson said, “We’re being called in. Time’s up.” Dang! The idea was in my head — I could probably ad-lib the last transition into the ending, but on national TV? And I was already feeling butterflies in my stomach. No — I couldn’t trust myself. I would have to do something drastic: play something else I had memorized. But what?

I didn’t make my final decision until I was on stage. The host asked where I was from, and then he said, “I hear you’re going to play variations on a famous folk song. What are you going to play?”

I smiled and answered, “See if you can guess.” I still didn’t know. It wasn’t too late for A-ri-rang. I could still wing the transition. But as I sat, I found myself pushing my music aside, and I played the third movement of my sonatina, which sounds a lot like Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. In the style of Mozart, I played it up - doing all the faces and dramatics. There was laughter, and then clapping at the end.

The host said, “That was great. Thank you!” and he motioned for me to leave the stage.

I made my way up to where the elders were sitting in the balcony. All three of them seemed to ignore me while at sat down. About a minute later, Elder Scrooge said, “I though you were going to play A-ri-rang.”

I answered, “I went with another folk song.”

No one else spoke: not even a “good job.” Maybe it was because the next act had started.

The talent show continued. A woman danced while playing Korean drums. Some people sang. One guy did a magic trick. A kid played the piano — something classical — cute but a few mistakes.

When the show was over, the awards came. There were twelve contestants and six prizes to give. They started with sixth place, so I was happy not to be one of the first ones called. After third place, I was getting a little nervous. The kid who played piano got second place. So, this was it. I either got the big prize: first place, or I got nothing. And it was … the Korean drums lady.

What? That classical kid wasn’t really that great.

“Oh well,” said Elder Patterson.

Elder Scrooge said, “You really should have stuck with A-ri-rang.”

Elder Bob said, “Is it time to go yet?”

On the way out, some Korean producers caught up to us. He excitedly said something fast — too fast for me to understand him. Then he turned to Elder Patterson and tried again.

Then Elder Patterson explained to me. “They messed up. They called the wrong piano contestant. It was you who really won second place. He wants to show you the prize you won.”

The producer led us into the department store section of the building, which had several floors. In the clothing department, he showed us an expensive fashionable jacket — very nice. However, by American standards, it was very feminine, and I didn’t want to wear it. The producer understood, and then gave us equivalent store credit. “Buy whatever you want.”

Elder Scrooge groaned, but he had no choice but to tag along while I chose my gift. I knew I had to choose quickly, but I also knew what I wanted. To the electronics department!

I found it: a nice compact, cool radio/tape player — the kind you could put in your pocket. However, it didn’t cost enough. I had to get something else.

So, I shopped sheet music. I found a copy of George Winston’s December, something that wasn’t available yet in the US. I also bought a Prokofiev book and a Chopin book, and that wiped out the rest of my credit.

Eventually Elder Patterson did say, “Good job, Elder.”

After which, Elder Scrooge said, “I can’t believe you wore that ugly tie today.”

And you know what? I really couldn’t argue on that point. All of my ties were ugly. They were either all strange colors or super fat. I don’t think I owned any skinny ties. I had perhaps one decent black tie, but when combined with my usual black suit, it looked like I was going to a funeral. For the contest, I chose a tie that had a lot of red, yellow, and blue to honor the Korean flag. The funny thing was, the colors were so disorganized, I don’t think anyone ever saw it as being “Korean.”

Right before my mission

My mom bought most of my ties. Before my mission, most of my ties were clip-ons. But when I became a priest at 16, my mom figured I needed to upgrade to real ties. She took me in to buy a new suit, and the guy in the store taught me how to tie a Windsor knot, which I picked up very quickly. My mom bought two ties on the spot, and those replaced my clip-ons. To this day, I use nothing but the Windsor, as I still don’t know how to do the half-Windsor or any of those other knots.

And as you could guess, fat ugly ties with full Windsor knots are fat blobs of ugliness under the neck.

Over the next couple of years, I would help pick out a couple more ties, and they would always be full of crazy bright colors. And when my mother went mission shopping without me, she bought a whole bunch of similar ties. So, I’m not sure if I should blame my mother or myself. At the time, it didn’t matter, as I personally loved those ties, and I always wanted to stand out.

My favorite tie had all the colors of the rainbow. It reminded me of my favorite musical at the time: Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. But alas, that tie didn’t survive Elder Heimuli. One day he accidentally spilled something on it, and he felt so bad he tried to fix it himself. He put it through the washer and then tried to dry it with an iron. It didn’t work.

And oh — I’m sure you’ve heard about the common missionary tradition of tie exchanging. About every 4-to-6 weeks, we would have transfers. And whenever anyone left to another area, we were supposed to exchange ties. It was a way of remembering each other while building up a larger variety of ties.

Well … during my entire two years on my mission, not a single one of my districts participated in this tradition. One time a greenie suggested it, but the other two missionaries in the house shot down the idea quickly with some lame made-up excuse. In hindsight I can see why. And to be honest, I didn’t want to part from my unique ties.

Back to Elder Scrooge

Anyway, you get the picture. Elder Scrooge didn’t like my ties, and it seemed like he didn’t like me either. But it did get better. He started going out of his way to be nice, and he even allowed me to sing harmony. So, the two worst months of my best two years weren’t in vain. He could have done better, and I could have been less stubborn, but ultimately we did learn to have respect for each other. Valuable lessons learned.

And the best part: I had my own fancy radio tape player to remember it all.

Now that you have the background, we can finally get to our real story.

Back to April 16, 1990

“What are you thinking about, Elder Elder Elder Elder Elder …?”

Yes. There he is. Elder Benjamin! The four of us were returning home after a fun P-day. That’s short for Preparation Day, which was the one day each week we got to rest from proselyting, giving us time to write letters, sightsee, and whatever else we felt we needed to do to relax and prepare. Today it had been another hike on Apsan Mountain.

“Oh, nothing,” I responded. “I’m not thinking about anything.”

“You’re staring at nothing,” said Elder Benjamin.

Elder Riley asked, “Did you get a Dear John letter?”

“Thinking about those Mormon Gyeong goals?” asked Elder Johnston as we approached our new apartment.

“Come on,” I said. “I’m not …”

“Hey — wait guys,” said Elder Riley. “Look at our window!” He pointed up to our second-story apartment and broken glass.

“What? How?” said Elder Johnston. “Somebody’s in there? Let’s get ‘em!” 

Elders Riley and Johnston charged toward the stairs, but then Elder Benjamin yelled, “Stop!” which shocked all of us. He never yelled.

“The Spirit tells me not to go in there.”

“What?” said Elder Johnston. “Why? Too dangerous?”

“The Spirit says we need help.”

“Seriously?” said Elder Riley. “They’re taking our stuff. What about all that money we just pulled out of the bank? We can’t afford to lose it. And we still haven’t finished unpacking after our big move. They’re going to take everything!”

“Something bad will happen if we go in there,” said Elder Benjamin.

“Somebody followed us home from the bank,” said Elder Johnston. “And they waited for us to be gone a long time. Maybe they’re already gone.”

Elder Benjamin’s eyes were wide — his usual spiritual face. “They’re still in there. I know it.”

I said, “No Ji-su lives near us. Let’s go get him. He’ll know what to do.”

We went to apartment of Ji-su, who was one of the church members — a strong man in his early thirties. He answered the door quickly, and when he heard of our plight, he grabbed a baseball bat and went with us back to our apartment.

Our door was wide open. Ji-su went in first. He yelled something in Korean — something I didn’t understand. We missionaries weren’t taught very many words that didn’t relate to our work or everyday living. After half a minute, we felt safe to go inside, while Ji-su continued his search through our rooms.

The several moving boxes we had laying out in the main living room were open, and stuff was thrown everywhere: mostly clothes and books.

“Nobody’s in here!” yelled Ji-su from our room. “They went through everything.”

“They heard us outside,” said Elder Benjamin. “When we left to go get help, they left. And no one stopped them.”

“We could have stopped them,” said Elder Riley.

“No,” said Elder Johnston. “I think Elder Benjamin just saved our lives.”

Ji-su left to go fetch the police, and we went through all our stuff, taking inventory.

Elder Benjamin and I went to our room. Every drawer in my dresser was opened. The first thing I looked for — my radio tape recorder — was gone. Two of my wallets were emptied of their money, but all other cards and pictures remained. That was nice of our assailants. And yeah — I don’t remember why I had so many extra wallets. My mother was going to be upset, as we weren’t really any kind of rich, and I had just taken a month’s worth of money out of the bank.

“They took all my money,” said Elder Riley from the other room.

“They took my suits, and left me with just one,” said Elder Johnston.

“They got all of my ties,” said Elder Benjamin.

“Me too,” said Elder Riley.

“Let me look,” said Elder Johnston. “Oh, crap! Seriously?”

I ran to my own closet and said, “Interesting. They didn’t take any of my ties.”

Elder Riley laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”

Stayed tuned for more adventures coming soon!

Full list of stories available here.

Why Is Jesus Our Center?

This year, our church reading assignments are back to the New Testament. And I've been feeling somewhat bombarded by Jesus -- almost as if being reminded that He is the one most important thing in our religion.

At the end of last year, the weekly reading centered on specific "Christmas" verses from the Old Testament, sprinkled with some New Testament verses. Prophecy vs. fulfillment. And at the beginning of this year, we start with Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, read in intertwining mostly-chronological order. So, for the first couple of weeks, we've read even more details on the Savior's birth.

On top of all this, I went to the temple for the first time in a while, and I got to witness the recent changes, which now includes many more pictures of Christ and additional words added to emphasize His role in everything.

Also, in the past few years, the Church has undertaken steps to show the world that Jesus is the center of our religion.

First, note the logo I grew up with:

In 1996, it was updated to put Christ in the center, and bigger font:

And finally in 2020, the logo was changed to include the picture of Christ:

Also, we should mention that President Nelson has recently urged us the importance of using the full name of the Church -- as "Jesus Christ" is the most important aspect of our name.

So, yeah -- Jesus is the center. But have you ever stopped to wonder why this is?

Like most Christian denominations, we believe in the Godhead. There is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

The Father is -- well -- the one at the top. Without Him, nothing could exist at all -- not even the Son and the Holy Spirit. Sounds kinda important. I can think of at least one denomination that puts the Father at the center.

The Son is the one who came down to Earth as Jesus.

And the Holy Spirit is a spirit or influence whose identity is unknown.

Each of the three serve an important aspect. Remove any one of them, and we're toast. Like I said above, take away the Father and no existence. Take away the Holy Spirit, and we lose our spiritual connection to everything. But what about the Son?

To us, the Son, or Jesus, is the most important, because He is the one who paid the ultimate sacrifice so we can return to heaven where the Father dwells. Without the Son, we would still exist, and we would have our spiritual connections, but then we would doomed to spend an eternity in hell. With nothing to save us from even our tiniest sins, we would never be worthy to enter heaven.

However, Jesus does exist, and he chose to pay the price of our sins so that we can become worthy, become perfect, and enter into heaven.

So, it's not that Jesus could exist alone, and the Father and the Spirit are not so important. But rather, it's that of all the things and aspects of our religion to consider, to us there is nothing nowhere near as important as understanding this atonement -- what Jesus did for us, and what we need to do to receive this gift. Because without this one thing -- nothing else matters to us.

In other words -- we must first do what it takes to ensure our own salvation -- believing in Christ and following His counsel -- and only then should we need to worry about all the other aspects and mysteries of God. And as we learn these other things, we will need these constant reminders as to what should always remain at our center -- because without shoring up our own salvation, nothing else matters. If we keep our eyes on the prize, we can and will succeed.

What are your thoughts -- why is it so important to keep Christ at the center?

The Adventures of Elder Elder and Elder Benjamin: Lost in Taegu

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 Last Visit

Analyzing the Apostles' Creed

Recently, my good friend asked me, "Does your church believe in the Apostles' Creed?" So, I figured -- this is a perfect time for an analysis. Yay! Put on your seatbelts and enjoy the ride.

As a general rule of thumb my church does not believe in the call and response tradition we see in many Christian churches. This is where the pastor reads from a script, and at the appropriate time the congregation responds. I saw this when I went to an Episcopalian summer camp. They have a book of prayers, and also a calendar as to which prayers need to be read on a specific day.

Much of the material comes straight from the Bible, but some pieces were created after the genesis of the original Church. These are summaries and commentaries based on scripture, which may or may not be in harmony with the original scriptures. My Church doesn't recognize any of these later artifacts, mainly because they didn't exist with the Original Church (first century).

My church also sees these call and response traditions as "vain repetitions" (Matthew 6:7). The concern is that if you keep repeating the same words, they may become meaningless sounds recited by rote. So, instead of call and response, the standard Latter-day Saint church service concentrates on discussions and instruction that apply to our everyday life.

As for creeds, the closest we have is a set of 13 Articles of Faith. We're supposed to know them, but even these don't get recited in our church services. Knowing them is not a prerequisite for salvation, but they do serve as a good summary to help guide us in our paths.

What this all means is that most Latter-day Saints don't know the Apostle's Creed exists. It's not from the Bible, and didn't show up regularly until somewhere around the 3rd to 5th centuries. I only knew of this creed from visiting Episcopalian and other church services. And I do have to admit that today I've learned more about this Creed in a one-hour research session than I have in my entire life. For example, I didn't know that it has 12 lines, each one supposedly coming from a different apostle.

So, here goes -- let's see what the Creed says ... (I'm using the version presented in Wikipedia, though I see in that same article that slightly different versions also exist) ...

#1) I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth,

Yes -- we believe this. There may be some nit-picky differences in details, but in principle this is correct. Where we might differ: we believe that Jesus (the Son) was already in existence at the time, and that He helped the Father to create our world.

#2) and in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord,

Yes -- and again there are tiny details. The Father is Elohim, and the Son is Jehovah, the last of which is often translated as LORD in the Old Testament. Though the term LORD and GOD can be interchangeable between the two entities, we tend to use LORD to refer specifically to Jesus (the Son).

#3) who was conceived of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary,

#4) who suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried, 

#5) descended into hell, rose again from the dead on the third day, 

#6) ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of God the Father almighty, 

#7) who will come again to judge the living and the dead.

These are all straight from the Bible -- so yes, this is all true. In fact, each of these are very important aspects of Jesus that should always be remembered. I should point out that so far, any member of my church would be in full support of all these lines, and we're taught all this in our youth.

#8) I believe in the Holy Spirit,

Yes -- and I should further point out: my church sees the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit as three distinct entities, one in purpose. The Apostles' creed seems to support the idea that these three are separate in being -- though I suppose it could also apply to the Trinity concept as well (where the Three are different manifestations of the same being).

#9) the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints,

This one is kinda funky, because it has that "catholic" word in there. It threw me off the first time I ever read this, but then I learned the word "catholic" is lower-case, meaning "universal." In fact, that's where the name of the Catholic Church comes from. It is supposed to be the One True Church that is the same here, there, and everywhere.

We believe in the One True Church as well. But of course, you'd probably guess that we disagree as to the identity of that Church. (What good is a church that doesn't claim to be that One True Church?)

But then again, all of our many denominations branch from the same Original Church of Jesus Christ. We can't logically all be "right" with all our differing nit-picky points of views, but in our fundamental beliefs, we are probably more than 95% in sync. The One Truth is indeed eternal and "catholic," and each of our churches are given a portion of that Truth. We all have the same core beliefs.

The second clause is also very important. Some believe that we don't need church, but rather just a relationship with God. However, my church teaches that this relationship is nothing without our relationships with our fellow friends and family. The "Church" is US, under the direction of God. We meet together, learn, and help each other. And this is the "communion of saints." 

One more minor detail -- I see "saints" here being defined as "followers of Christ." This is the same meaning of the word in "Latter-day Saints." Thus we can see that even in the name of our church, the concept of Church and communion is very important to us.

#10) the forgiveness of sins,

#11) the resurrection of the body,

Again, these are core Christian doctrines straight from the Bible. So, yes. About the resurrection, we believe that this is a literal, physical resurrection, and not figuratively.

And finally ... 

#12) and the life everlasting. Amen.

Most definitely -- we see our goal in life is to obtain the life everlasting that Jesus has promised.

In summary, even though most Latter-day Saints don't know what the Apostles' Creed is, they'd most likely believe its precepts. They'd probably get stuck on #9 with that "catholic" word, but when the meaning is explained, they would then nod their heads in agreement. Some nit-picky differences exist in the periphery, but in principle, this Creed may indeed be a good representation of the core doctrines that unite ALL Christian denominations.

For comparison, I invite you to check out our 13 Articles of Faith. In particular, the first 4 are very similar to the Apostles' Creed.

I hope you've enjoyed this quick analysis. In a couple of weeks, I'll release the next installment of the Adventures of Elder Elder and Elder Benjamin. Until then, keep on searching for truth!