Ruddy-cheeked, white-shirted and back-packed, the two young men got me in their sights about a block away. Latter Day Saints on a mission. It seems that in the warmer months our region hosts many of them.
They wander, knock on doors, confront and woo with their little blue book. Self-supporting. Courteous. Far from Mom and Dad. Calling themselves “elders”. I never see a Testament, only Joseph Smith’s book. This is the text which presumably he pulled out of the ground and had the angel interpret for him. A history of lost tribes of Israel dispersed to the New World and visited uniquely by Christ.
I smiled and asked them of the progress in their mission. Only three days here. I told them of my hope in Christ, a present assurance of salvation, needing none of my own striving to be held secure. I spoke of election and my responding wonder and love for the Man of Galilee.
They sensed that I had a firm set of beliefs. They had been trained to suggest a certain commonality in our positions, but all the while they were setting things up to throw in a couple of inspiring shots from the Book of Mormon. I told them that I did not consider it to be reliable scripture. The portion which they read to me sounded like plagiarism from Matthew 25: 31-40.
That is when I fouled up and really started to joust with doctrine. Perhaps I could persuade these young men, so seemingly loyal to the faith of their fathers. WRONG! Better to have simply affirmed the sufficiency of Christ, then give a clear single portion of scripture and state that I would not be drawn to their way. Confidence. Courtesy. Calm.
The Lord did not need my advocacy or sales spin. If they are His, the process is already in motion. I had been presented to them, simply as one more testimony to the praise of Christ, to "the faith which was once delivered unto the saints" and to the hazard in any purported New Gospel. Confrontation was a mistake.
I will know better next time.
