(Compiled by Dennis B. Horne)
[Editorial
Note: The below is a selection from the autobiographical writings of Glen L.
Rudd, a former member of the First and Second Quorums of the Seventy, now
deceased. The setting is the beginning of his first mission to New Zealand,
where he learned many important spiritual and life lessons. His mission
president was Matthew Cowley, who was later called into the Quorum of the
Twelve.]
Elder Dastrup said, “Run down the street, catch up with him, hold out your hand, and do the best you can to tell him you want that money.” I reluctantly did what he said. The old brother gave me his coin which was the last money he had in the world. He was happy and shed a tear. When I got back to Dastrup, I was embarrassed. He said, “What you just did is let him give a servant of the Lord the last money he had. He now has faith that the Lord will take care of him.” That was one of the first experiences I had in finding out I was not just a former cheerleader from Utah, but a respected servant of the Lord. . . .
About three
weeks after arriving in Hastings, Elder Dastrup and I were on our bicycles
going through the district and had traveled 30 or 40 miles. As it was getting
dark, we rode into a long driveway leading up to a Maori home. When we got
there, it was actually dark, and the family had already gone to bed because
there was no electricity. When we got to the house, they were all awake and
welcomed us in. The mother was about to have another child, but she got out of
bed, put new sheets on the bed, then told my companion and I that we were to
sleep in the one and only bed in their home and that she and the rest of her
family would sleep on the floor. I absolutely re fused to let her do that.
Elder Dastrup did not argue but just said, “Do what you're told.” So we slept
in the bed while the wonderful Maori family slept on the floor.
That night
I did not sleep well, but I began to realize that in their eyes I was a little
more than I had ever seen myself to be. As we rode our bikes down the old
gravel road through our district, about every mile or two we would come to
another home that was usually set back off the highway. By the time we rode
down the driveway to the house, the mother would have food cooking for us. It
did not do any good to tell them we had just eaten 30 minutes before because to
the Maori people the finest thing they could do was to feed the servants of the
Lord. On more than one occasion, we would eat six and eight meals a day, each
time making the family happy-and us gaining weight.
The Maori
people of New Zealand were magnificent souls. They had more faith than anyone I
had heard about. At least in my youth I had not seen faith being displayed like
I saw it in the Maori areas.
There were
very few doctors except in the major cities, so most of the Saints we lived
among were a long way from a doctor. They really did not have much faith in doctors
anyway—all they wanted was the priesthood and the blessings that came from
priesthood leaders.
All of this
added to the education of a city boy from Salt Lake who was gradually, but
surely, beginning to realize that missionaries are more than just high school
or college boys from America. This continued on during my entire mission, but
after the first month and a half I had an entirely different concept of who I
really was and whom I represented and why I was there. As a mission president
years later, I did my best to help every young missionary find out as quickly
as possible who he really was.
New
Zealand, a land where freedom is cherished; a land blessed with great natural
beauty; inhabited with a people possessing great strength of character; where a
temple has been dedicated to the Lord. This lovely country, by any standard, is
among the most beautiful countries in all the world. The vista of trees,
flowers, beaches, and mountains, hold visitors spell bound. All of nature's
loveliness seems to have been gathered from the far comers of the earth to be
combined in this land known to the ancient Maoris as Aotearoa: The Land of the
Long White Cloud. No visitor leaves these lovely shores with out the
conviction that here is a virtual “Garden of Eden.”
The pakeha,
or white inhabitants, are men and women of great courage. Most of them are
descendants of courageous pioneers who left their homes in the British Isles,
and elsewhere, to face the challenges of a new country where they could enjoy
religious, political, and social freedoms-where they could build a new way of
life to fulfil the dreams and ideals denied them in their native lands.
When the
first white men arrived in New Zealand they found the great Maori people. Maori
men have been known for many decades as the symbol of supreme manhood. In the
Smithsonian Institute in Washington D.C., stands a seven-foot statue to the
Maori. Under this statue is the inscription, “to the Maori, possibly the most
perfect physical specimen known to mankind.”
The Maori
of today are worthy descendants of the original Maori inhabitants of this
country. In modem New Zealand, the pakeha and Maori live together as one united
people, working together and inspired by a burning pride in and loyalty to
their country.
Korongata: my
first New Zealand home. I arrived disappointed, discouraged, homesick, and sad.
I was sick and skinny. I soon realized I wasn't as grown up or mature as I
thought I was. I stayed in Korongata only a few short months, but I learned
better how to pray, how to study, how to adjust to a new culture and way of
life.
In
Korongata I met fine Maori members full of understanding and patience, full of
love and forgiveness. They could have been insulted or offended by me, but they
smiled and let me grow up without unkind words or actions.
In
Korongata, I saw the gospel being lived by Saints with simple lives. I saw them
happy even in the depths of economic depression, with few of the luxuries of
life. I witnessed unity and brotherhood like never before. While no one had
much, all were willing to share so that none had while others had not. I heard
and felt testimonies from humble people.
In
Korongata, as a weak servant of the Lord, I received respect from a people all
stronger and more secure in the gospel that I. There I blessed the sick. I
comforted the distressed and used the priesthood with thanks and appreciation
that I had not known before.
In
Korongata, I was blessed through sickness and distress. The Saints fasted and
prayed for a strange, immature boy whom God had sent to receive special
blessings and some special lessons so badly needed. Their prayers were answered
and everyone shared in the results. When a transfer came to go where I had so
much wanted to go only a short while before, I felt like I was leaving home and
my closest friends.
My initial
disappointment had turned to appreciation; discouragement had vanished;
homesickness was under control; sadness had turned to happiness and love for
the finest Latter day Saints I had ever known.
Korongata—where
I read and studied the Book of Mormon in the early mornings by sunlight and in
the evenings, by candlelight.
Korongata—where
I saw death accepted and handled with tenderness and understanding.
Korongata-where I saw the priesthood in action and in
control of a simple, humble way of life and where I saw mothers and children
sustaining husbands and fathers with faith and true devotion.
Korongata—where
I grew up, never to forget that in my youth the Lord had seen fit to bless my
life and put me on a path of righteousness to follow “new loved ones” that
taught me the finer points of what it means to be a true Latter-day Saint.
After about
two weeks on that first bicycle trip, I suffered with a terribly bad chest
cold. It was so bad that I was taken to the doctor and he immediately informed
my companion that I had tuberculosis. I went to the hospital and had x-rays and
was told to go home and go to bed. President
Cowley was notified. The people fasted. President Cowley came and gave me a
blessing. I was made well.
About a
month after we arrived, Elder Ottley got the chicken pox. All of the elders
went to D'Urville Island to spend the Christmas holidays except Elders
Cardwell, Ottley and me—we were quarantined. I spent lots of time reading the
Book of Mormon.
One day
while we were cleaning out the water tank, Brother Randall rushed up in his old
car and said, “Come quick!” My companion and I jumped in the car wearing our
old work clothes and rushed to the home of Tori Reid. His wife had fallen and
had hurt herself and was prematurely giving birth to a baby. The Relief Society
president, Annie Krunau, delivered the baby and turned around and handed it to
me. I had never seen anything like that before. With the urging of Brother
Randall, we named and blessed this little baby, which died later in the day.
After a
couple of months, Sister Olive Edwards had a little baby and she and her
husband asked me to name the baby. I named her Marva, after my girlfriend at
home.
My diary
says that I arrived in Korongata weighing 122 pounds. Two months later, I
weighed 148 pounds. I had gained two stone six pounds. I continued to get
heavier, but more important, I gained love and patience and true Christianity.
When the time came to leave Korongata, I left as an entirely different person
than when I arrived—and I now had two real homes.
One of the
many discoveries that I made on my first mission is that repentance is real and
true. Among the Maoris I found that there were many transgressions. I also
discovered that repentance followed very quickly. There were a few, of course,
who did not fully repent. But, the majority who transgressed came back in full
Church fellowship. Many of our finest and strongest priesthood leaders had gone
through the process of transgression, repentance, and forgiveness and returning
to full activity. To my young eyes and mind this was a great testimony of
gospel principles.
I met a
fine couple in their early fifties. I thought they were nearly perfect. The
wife radiated a great spirit. Her husband seemed to be almost like one of the
faithful in the Book of Mormon. He lived up to his name.
One day the
wife told me of his riotous life prior to the time that I met them. He had been
a heavy drinker and done terrible things to his wife and family. Her prayers,
year after year, were finally heard. Somehow or other, he made a complete
change in his life. I could hardly believe the story she told me of his
previous life. Her testimony was that prayer and faithfulness had influenced
him and he was now a stalwart and true Latter-day Saint. I then thought of him
as Alma the younger who changed his ways completely and became a great leader
among his people.
In 1939,
after I had been in New Zealand about five months, I received a new companion
who had just arrived from northern Utah. One day we traveled with the mission
president to a city about 200 miles away. Afterwards we began hitchhiking
back. After a rough day, we found ourselves in a strange, small resort town
with no place to sleep and nothing to eat. By 8:00 p.m. we finally gave up and
decided to sleep in a shelter in a park.
As we
crossed the street, the same man who had given us our last ride saw us and
stopped. He took us to his home and fed us. Then he invited some neighbors over
so that we could have a meeting. He also said we could sleep in a new house he
was helping to build.
This man began the meeting by telling us that he had been a
minister for twenty-five years in the Church of the Brethren. He claimed to be
well versed in the teachings of the Bible and also familiar with many other
churches. He had a full wall of books; and while looking at them, I noticed a
Book of Mormon. He commented that he had read it a couple of times.
Our host
outlined the meeting: I was to talk first and explain Mormonism; then he would
take equal time to reply. I was then to have ten minutes to summarize, and he
would take the final ten minutes. No one was to interrupt us while we spoke,
and we were to be kind and courteous. We agreed that we would not argue or
debate—just explain and teach. (My new companion was scared and begged not to
be called on.)
We followed
the plan. I began with the Articles of Faith and briefly explained each one. He
then attacked what I had said in a masterful and methodical way. He was well
versed and really knew the Bible. In my next ten minutes I tried to correct his
misunderstanding, but he ruined my "fine presentation" in his final
ten minutes.
The meeting
concluded with everyone sure that this man had proven Mormonism to be anything
but the true religion of Jesus Christ. At that moment, it seemed that I had
suffered a crushing defeat. My five months in the mission field, pitted against
his twenty-five years as a minister, did not give me the confidence I needed on
that occasion.
Before
anyone left, I got up and asked for just five minutes more. My minister friend
did not want to let me have it, but his wife said that she thought it would be
all right. The minister consented to let me have my final say, feeling certain
that nothing I could say would overshadow his splendid work in disproving
Mormonism. A wonderful thought had come into my mind. I realized that I really
had twenty years of experience as a Latter-day Saint, though only five months
of it as a missionary.
With a
sincere prayer I arose and told the story of the first vision of the Prophet
Joseph Smith. I related it simply and
carefully. I talked of the visit of Moroni and the coming forth of the plates
and the Book of Mormon, a copy of which he had, and had claimed to have read. I
told of the martyrdom of the Prophet and Hyrum Smith. And then from the very
depths of my heart I bore my testimony of the divinity of all these things.
When I finished, the whole spirit of the meeting had changed. It was a
wonderful feeling, and the Spirit of the Lord was present to sustain the
testimony I had almost forgotten to bear.
The good
minister arose and, in a sweet way, closed the meeting. His concluding comment
was: "You didn't do very well explaining the articles of your faith; but I
would give all I own if I could stand and testify, as you have done, that I
know that what I teach is the truth." He admitted to all present that he
really did not know the truth, and expressed his hope that he would someday bear
such a testimony. There is no valid defense against a sincere testimony.
During the
administration I had one of my first great spiritual experiences. I blessed her
and promised her she would get well. As I said these words I had a strong
feeling of peace and comfort come which let me know that Marva's mother would
not die but would be made well.
I have not said anything about this experience over these
many years. As I write this in 1995, I am in my seventyseventh year. I want to share this testimony that men, even young men,
who hold the priesthood, and are living correctly, will receive direction from
the spirit and will have the assurance that the Lord will ratify the promised
blessing.
From that
moment in the hospital I never worried about whether Marva's mother would
survive. She lived until she was nearly ninety-years old and raised a fine
family, including my very special wife.
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