May 22, 2017

"For he hath not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted; neither hath he hid his face from him; but when he cried unto him, he heard."
~Psalms 22:24

"If sometimes the harder you try, the harder it gets, take heart. So it has been with the best people who ever lived." Jeffrey R. Holland

 “There may be some among you who feel darkness encroaching upon you. You may feel burdened by worry, fear, or doubt. To you and to all of us, I repeat a wonderful and certain truth: God’s light is real. It is available to all! It gives life to all things. It has the power to soften the sting of the deepest wound. It can be a healing balm for the loneliness and sickness of our souls. In the furrows of despair, it can plant the seeds of a brighter hope. It can enlighten the deepest valleys of sorrow. It can illuminate the path before us and lead us through the darkest night into the promise of a new dawn.” Dieter F. Uchtdorf

 “Distancing yourself from the kingdom of God during a trial of faith is like leaving the safety of a secure storm cellar just as the tornado comes into view.” Elder Neil L. Andersen

“Peace comes from knowing that the Savior knows who we are and knows that we have faith in Him, love Him, and keep His commandments, even and especially amid life’s devastating trials and tragedies.” Elder Quentin L. Cook


Dear Family, and Friends,

In some of my emails this morning, I've heard that its been a pretty trying week. And I couldn't agree more. I got physically sick this week, but even more, lately I've been sick in my heart. Sick of trying so hard, only to find so seemingly few results. Sick of the weather, and the people, and trials and the constant struggle of missionary work. Sick of pretending to feel fine.

But its in times when you are being tried the most that the Lord gives you spiritual packets of sunlight that give you the strength to get through.

It was Saturday night, and I'd just about had enough. I was exhausted physically spiritually emotionally. As I drove up the drive to the member's home where we were planning to stay at for the final hour of the night, my thoughts were far away, back home in Utah, missing my family, my bed and my past self. In other words, like Lot's wife, looking back, and saying, "Man! This is hard! I don't know if I can keep doing this!" I was spiritually torn apart, and spiritually done. I was even a little bit mad at God, I'm sorry to say.

Where is the help that you promised me when I am at the end of my rope? The angry thought flashed through my head again and again, as I struggled to get out of the car, lock the car doors and trudge up to the house. I fought to suppress the thought, but I was practically in tears. Oh God, where art thou? I wanted to cry out.

But God hadn't forgotten me. And He was about to make good on His promises. After having sat down and struggling to keep it together through an impossible member inspire, something that should have been so easy but felt more like an emotional marathon, at last we finished with a prayer. But before we could turn to go, one of the kids in the family wanted to show us their 'trail' in the backyard. Together as a family they had worked to mow down an impenetrable wall of blackberry and boysenberry bushes (plants that run wild up here) and this cute little kid wanted to show me all the work that they had done. So, in quiet submission, my companion and I walked out to the back. As we walked, I couldn't help but enjoy the calming, quiet peace of the night, the wind caressing my face. As we walked, the mother of the children walked with us. Our topic of conversation changed from missionary work in the ward, to her own experience with missionaries, a story I had never heard before. This wonderful mother was a convert. And although I didn't have the energy to piece together too much of her story, she said something that touched my heart. And it was the miracle I had been searching for all week long. "I will forever be grateful," She said to us quietly, "for missionaries like you, who have sacrificed everything you have, and left your families, and everything you know, to save those who are lost. You could never guess what my life was like, before this," She said with a smile through her tears, gesturing all around her to her house, and her backyard, her husband, and her kids. "I was searching for something, but I didn't know what it was. And it wasn't until those missionaries knocked on my door, when I was at my lowest point all those years ago, that I was able to find the truth that changed my life. I am so grateful for men like you."

In that moment, I knew why I was on a mission. In that moment, all the pain and the trial and the suffering of the past few hours, of the past week melted all away, and for the first time in quite a while I was able to see clearly again why I was here. And all the pain that I had been struggling with, and all my own sadness and focus on the strugglings of my own inadequacies and inner self, all melted away. And for the first time that week, I felt free. I felt light again. And even though my legs still felt like lead, my throat still sore, and my body drained of physical strength, I felt like Nephi, as though I could do anything. Because I knew that the Lord was helping me and guiding me.

Just before I retired to bed that night, as I was saying my prayers, I fervently thanked the Lord for the strength that the Lord had promised, coming through a humble mother, in a time of a missionary's desperate need. And after I had thanked Him, I recommitted to the Lord that I would give my all to His work, and withhold nothing. For nothing is too much to give to the Lord. And what a great gift and blessing that is to me to be able to give my all to Him.

And that's why I am on a mission.

I have learned for myself that when we give everything of ourselves in order to help others in the work of the Master, that is true joy. And because of my obedience, He has given me wings to fly.

I love you all. Warmest wishes, and may you all have the very best week!

Sincerely,
Elder Jeffrey Robert Hakala