Monday, May 16, 2016

Living in the moment ...

It was so good to see you guys last week. You all look great. I enjoyed the few minutes we had to talk.

Thank you to everyone who wrote this week. It really doesn't seem like I've been gone very long... but life is changing so quickly! It's exciting to see how each individual life merges and diverges onto separate and unique paths.

This week has blown by. I'm loving the work, and I'm loving the area. Brother Ha is still progressing... but slowly. We are working with him. We are hoping for a baptism by the end of the transfer.

We had a lot of time on our hands this week, so we spent much time searching for new investigators. We want to find somebody to teach so badly. We did meet a few people who invited us to come back, but it's been difficult to make contact with them again. We will keep trying, and praying, and working.

There is a homeless man that lives near our house, and I see him a few times a week. The first time I saw him was about 12 weeks ago, while I was still with Elder Stoker. It was late at night, and on our way home we approached him and tried to share a message. I remember very clearly the look in his eyes as he lifted his head slowly and held our gaze for a few seconds. I could feel this man's sadness, and it shook me. Since then, I made it a point to look for him each night and say hi.

A few days ago, while on exchanges, I saw him in a different part of town and approached him. When he saw me, he grabbed my hand with both of his, and this old, weathered man shook me until I couldn't see straight. With his toothless smile, he thanked me for saying hi to him every day.

It was a simple encounter, but it made my week. There are a million and one ways to do missionary work, but smiling and saying hello I think is one of the most effective.

A few nights ago, after returning home after a long day of knocking on doors out on the island of Hansan, Elder Harkness and I changed our clothes and lay on the roof until it was about time for bed. It has been a long time since I have seen stars. There isn't much countryside like this left in Korea, making Tongyoung one of the few places where you can see a few starts at night, if the air is clear enough. It made me think of my favorite scripture, the one I put on my mission plaque.

Ferry ride to Hansan Island

Psalms 8

When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;

What is man, that thou art mindful of him? And the son of man, that thou visitest him?

To me, the night sky is one of the biggest testimonies of God and Christ. Worlds without number, and here I am, just a speck. And yet, God is aware of me personally.

It's sad to me that Koreans never really get to see the stars. In a way, I think it is symbolic of their (and the world's) distance from God. Right above their heads is the universe in its infinity, and yet they go about their lives completely unaware of it, because the sky is blocked out by air and light pollution. The creations and the industry of man has placed him ever farther from the heavens. It's too bad that it sometimes takes a rainy day to clear up the air and make the night sky visible once again.

I am grateful I am here. There really is no where else in the world I would rather be. This is the work of the Lord, and it will go forth until it has "penetrated every continent, visited every clime, swept every country and sounded in every ear (Joseph Smith)." It's moments like seeing the stars, being thanked by a kind homeless man for smiling and saying hello, and occasionally getting a door slammed in your face that affirm to me that this is the work of God, and that it indeed must roll forward.

I love you all!

Elder Sorensen