#1
So Elder Rex and I have been going to the Shopping Centre here in
Coff's to do our finding. We stand between the main entrance and the car
park and try to stop people to talk to them about who we are and what
we are doing. Well this week we had been talking to a lot of people (its
school holidays and Everyone is at the shopping centre for activities)
Long story short, this massive security guard came and told us we had to
leave because we aren't allowed to preach here. We were just talking to
people, but we didn't want to cause any problems so we left. I felt
kinda like Alma and Amulek, except I didn't get thrown in prison, only
kicked off the property. Maybe well get thrown in prison next week who
knows. (knock on wood)
#2 This one also has to
do with the same parking garage. Elder Rex and I parked in it and went
to our dinner appointment, not realizing that the upper levels closed at
8. Well we got back to the car after 8 and all of the exits and
entrances were chained closed. I was at a loss, I didn't know what to
do. So we drove around the parking garage for probably 10 minutes hoping
that one way would be open, but to no avail. We were trapped and it was
getting close to curfew. We decided that we might be able to drive the
car UNDER one of the chains if Elder Rex held it up. So we picked one
and he got out and lifted it. I went really slow hoping I wouldn't hear E
Rex say it was too short. Well the chain dragged on the roof a bit but
we made it. It was such a relief. Elder Rex and I were doing high fives
all the way home. We thought that was the funniest thing. WHO GETS STUCK
IN A PARKING GARAGE.
I found this yesterday in a box one of the members gave us of missionary stuff. Hope you like it.
I had been taking Bible-Fu for quite a few years, since I was eight years old being trained in the School of Sunday
& Seminary. Having had many good instructors and coaches, knowing
some great moves and stances, my coach decided it was time for my title
match. This was not a national, state, city , or even block title. It
was something far more important to me and to those who knew me, for if I
won this, I would be able to practice in the Celestial Dojo with the
best master ever.
As I walked in to the locker room, I saw my opponent putting on his murky black karate uniform. His name was Lucifer D. Satan. He'd been around for a very long time. He was small quick, deceptively powerful, and an unbelievably chatty fighter. From the moment I walked in, he began taunting me trying to make me attack him in the locker room and get disqualified before the match even began. I kept my cool and said "I do my talking in the ring." "I do my talking in the ring," he mimicked.
As they led us into the ring, I could see a small crowd in the top ten rows of the five hundred row stadium and could tell it was going to be a very rough crowd. As the referee went over the ground rules, some of the crowd jumped in the ring, knocked the referee out and dragged him away. As I watched helplessly, the bell rang and the devil landed a vicious blow to the head, full of hate and malice. While I lay on the ground, he swung at me with evil music left and right. This took a little out of me, but in an unprecedented move, I stood up and bore my testimony, but he slashed through with a brunette in a mini-skirt. I stumbled back and leaned heavily against the ropes, but I acted more dazed than I was and as he came in I spun and nailed him with a church hymn. He struck blindly with a fast car, but I blocked him with our dying Ford and countered him with the power of prayer. He tried hopelessly to hit with evil urges, but I side stepped with a family that cared for me greatly and gave an uppercut with the power of the Priesthood.
He was bleeding from several places now, but as I attacked with a solid testimony of the Word of God, suddenly he side stepped and grabbed me with a boring speaker in a sleeper hold. I slid out with a good spiritual Fast and Testimony Meeting, but I was noticeably hurt. He tried to drop me with a fishing trip on Sunday, but that was his mistake, I don't fish. I began to pepper him with a few quick trips to the temple interposed with baptisms for the dead. He was on the run now, as I threw a few scriptures from The Book of Mormon. In my best to finish him off, I ran right into a sports on Sunday. I swung with a friend taping the Super Bowl for me, but I was noticeably stung and bleeding in a few places. He struck back again and again with drugs and pornography and anything he could get his hands on, but his arsenal was shrinking quickly.
We stood back for a second. Blood was dripping from both of us. All of a sudden my inner strength swelled, and I hit him viciously with a mission call. I swiped the signature of Thomas S. Monson across his forehead and knocked him out by serving a successful and honorable mission. I knew that was not all. True enough, I had won this match, but I knew there would always be a rematch and he would be back again, only more powerful next time.
