In 1973 Elder Hugh B. Brown, a
member of the quorum of the 12 apostles told a very poignant parable, he says,
"I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada,
and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears
and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until
there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming
daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what
appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of
simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and
smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that
currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to
me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree
and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down.
Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I
should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener
here.” That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so
much that I answered. I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener
here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree
or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant
bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr.
Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to
hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’”"
He goes on to tell about how later
in his life he was next in line to become a General in the Canadian army, but
was declined the opportunity because he was a Mormon.
He writes "When I got to my
tent, I was so bitter that I threw my cap and my saddle brown belt on the cot.
I clinched my fists and I shook them at heaven. I said, “How could you do this
to me, God? I have done everything I could do to measure up. There is nothing
that I could have done—that I should have done—that I haven’t done. How could
you do this to me?” I was as bitter as gall.
And then I heard a voice, and I
recognized the tone of this voice. It was my own voice, and the voice said, “I
am the gardener here. I know what I want you to do.” The bitterness went out of
my soul, and I fell on my knees by the cot to ask forgiveness for my
ungratefulness and my bitterness."
A few months ago, when I was going
through a hard time in Montufar, my dad sent me a copy of this article. I found
that I was able to relate myself significantly with the poor little currant
bush, who had been doing so well, and who had grown so high and so tall only to
be cut down by the gardener, humbled by the master.
This past week had a similar theme.
I felt like I was flying so high, and doing so well last week in Montufar, I
had an incredible comp, incredible investigators and was into a nice groove as
Financial Secretary of the Mision Sur. And then...in one day my whole world
changed.
Change is something necessary for
all of us, and sometimes it's pretty hard to do.
But, as the hymn says, we must all
press on.
My new Area: I'm here in El Tesoro
II, Zone 2 of Mixco, it's not actually that big of an area...but the
good thing is that there are quite a few houses and a good number of helpful
members. We live on the second floor our ward mission leader's house in the
entrance of a gated community. What really surprises me about this area is how
SAFE it is. We
live right across the street from a gigantic mall, Eskala, which has inside of
it one of three Walmart locations in all of this country.
So, it's nice.
We, Elder Argueta and I, got here
on Tuesday afternoon, dropped all of our suitcases off and started exploring
the area. We share our ward with two sister missionaries, Sister Saldaña (from
Peru) and Sister Valdiviar (from Utah). It's a fairly large ward of about 160
active members and a chapel that is going through some remodeling. We spent the
day getting to know a few families and the Bishop.
And then the next morning we woke
up....not exactly sure of what to do. My agenda was completely empty, I had no
idea where to go or who to visit...I only knew that we should probably walk
around knocking on doors until we found something.
After a few hours we talked with a
family in the street (they rejected us) but we saw in the window above
their heads a man leaning out and listening to us from the 2nd floor. I greeted
him from below and asked if he wanted to listen to our message, and he said
that he would be coming down in just a moment.
Elder Argueta and I looked at each
other, surprised, both under the impression that we had just witnessed a
miracle. The man came down and we began to talk: "I've already read your
book," he started.
"What book....The Book of
Mormon?" I responded.
"Yup...and let me tell you all
of the things that are wrong about it!" And from there on out we spent a
good 15 minutes trying to get away from this guy, who turned out to be the
pastor of an Evangelical church...and the author of a popular Ant-Mormon book.
"Sometimes, it's hard being a
missionary," as quoted Elder Holland, "because in that moment I
wanted to turn around, grab that little man and shout EXCUSE ME! ....but I
couldn't."
So we were 0 for 2 and at half
time....and things just started going downhill from there. It kept feeling like
every time I tried to do something good, two more Hydra-Heads would come out
and bite me back...until things came to a head on Sunday.
I woke up that morning really,
very, sick. I'm not sure what I ate on Saturday, but it was really not
sitting well in my stomach. We went to the church, but I kept having to slip
out the back door and to the bathroom. I felt defeated, tired, lonely and
finished.
We had worked our tails off the
whole week, but to little to no avail...how was I supposed to show a good
example to my new missionary companion when things were so rough?
We came home after church and I
collapsed on my bed for a half hour until we were going to go out and visit
some more.
And then came the rain.
I sat down, cross-legged on the
floor of my entryway and asked my Heavenly Father, "How could you do this
to me? I was doing so well! I was growing and learning! I thought I was working
so hard! Why is it that every time that I try to what is right things keep
getting worse?"
Then I heard a voice, it was my
father's voice, and it said "I am the gardener here, and I know what I
want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want
you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden
with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me
enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr.
Gardener."
Braving the rain and the
unfavorable conditions we went out to work again.
And we found a family, the
Geronimos, a mother, father and three children.
And they all want to be baptized.
Things are rough at the beginning,
but if we put our trust in God and keep moving forward...everything works out.
That's my testimony.
