The Nauvoo Ward
There’s nothing like a good ward. After moving into our first apartment, Lynsey and I attended a ward with the idea of “checking it out.” Since we’re BYU students, we figured we might as well look at both the Provo and BYU wards that claim our house within their respective boundaries. We went to the Provo ward first, and by the time we left church I had a home teaching companion and three families, with a plan to meet them in a week and a half. Lynsey had discovered her great aunt is in the ward, and the Relief Society president to boot. Talk about following the prophet! President Hinckley has said that converts need three things: a friend, a calling and to be nourished by the good word of God. Lynsey and I weren’t just barely baptized, but we were new, and they sat right down and gave us what every new person needs—a friend, a calling and nourishment. We had a wonderful Sabbath. Talking together after church, we realized that we didn’t even have a desire to “check out” the other ward anymore; we had already found a home.
A good ward makes a huge difference. I can remember the ward from my childhood where no one would bear testimony on Easter Sunday. I also remember the first fast and testimony meeting after moving to California—I was amazed! There were no pauses! Everyone wanted to share their personal witness! I’ve since learned that this is usually how testimony meetings are, but at the time it made a huge impression on me. A good ward with faithful members can be a powerful instrument in the hands of God.
On my mission, I learned right off that members make all the difference. By far my best time as a missionary was the months I served in the Cheju Branch. President Kim was incredible! We couldn’t have possibly snuck in an investigator without them becoming close, personal acquaintances. And the rest of the ward was not a whit behind him as to things pertaining to righteousness. It was an incredible branch.
The Nauvoo Ward was one of those fantastic wards that you just feel welcome in the second you walk through the doors. I’m amazed they can do it. Can you imagine? What would it be like to have two thousand visitors at your sacrament meeting? How could you find your friends to chat with? How could you ask the lady you visit teach if Tuesday afternoon would be good? How long would it take to get the sacrament?
I don’t know the answers to these questions because I was in Nauvoo during the winter. Not too many tourists in the winter. But I imagine they handle it well, because they handled us well. Our arrival probably dropped the median age to twenty-two, and poor Brother Capener’s Sunday School class for singles shot up in population by a multiple of twenty. I can only imagine what happened to the Relief Society when it was flooded with young, out-of-state blood. None of that seemed to matter though; the members welcomed us. There was the guy who crushed each of our hands individually as we entered the chapel, rendering us unable to hold a program (probably a calling based on economic expedience). There was the token BYU-loathing guy, who teased me about going to BYU just to get married. (I swear I didn’t—it just happened.) There was the little kid who could explain with exemplary patience that he was a space alien. And all three of them smiled when they saw us at church, waved when they drove by us on Mulholland Street, and some of them even came to see us off when we left Nauvoo with our luggage, uncertain if we would ever be that way again.
Now, if I was a comic novelist and I had made all this Nauvoo stuff up instead of having actually experienced it, I could reduce everyone I met to cute and easily digestible stereotypes. I could laughingly describe the father-son comedy team, and the confusion that arises because they share a first name. Or maybe you’d like to hear about the hilarious but spiritually sober Elders Quorum president. And how about the humble, small town policeman who really believes that when Christ said, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,” what He meant was, “If you read my scriptures, I’ll put you to sleep.”
Yes, if I was a comic novelist I would probably do just that. But I am not a comic novelist, and the people I mention are real people. The son of the father-son comedy team is serving a mission in Las Vegas; I wrote him a letter while he was in the MTC. The Elders Quorum president was just as I said—spiritually sober. I’ll always remember his lesson on quorum unity my last Sunday in Nauvoo. This was a man who was truly leading his friends by following his God.
The policeman’s not a joke either; please don’t think of him in that way. We all thought he was kidding at first, but he was completely serious. And let me tell you this: when an honest, guileless, humble Elder in Israel tells you in all seriousness that every time he has taken Christ’s challenge he has indeed been blessed with rest, I can’t help but believe him. The testimony one man finds is not necessarily the same testimony his brother is blessed with. I suspect that the person who considers his testimony and understanding of Christ’s words to be better than another’s is floating towards serious trouble. You see, I know a humble officer of the law in Nauvoo, Illinois who has been blessed with needed rest by bringing his heavy-laden self to the Lord through the scriptures, and I also know an Elders Quorum that accepted his testimony, even if they initially thought it was a joke. That’s what really makes a great ward, the people—people who reach out and love their brothers and sisters, people who reach out to the Lord. We are all children of our Heavenly Father and I for one, have been blessed by others’ kind words and accidental examples—not least of all in a small town called Nauvoo.
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Thanks for revisiting Nauvoo with me. I would love to hear your thoughts.