I Put Moroni’s Promise to the Test

I had been in Argentina only two short weeks when I stepped off the bus into the cool, crisp air of a September evening after attending zone conference. As my companion and I walked down the quiet streets toward our apartment, my mind went over the words spoken by our mission president earlier that day: “No missionary should try to serve the Lord without a sure, unwavering testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.” I had read the Book of Mormon and I believed its teachings, but I couldn’t remember a time when I had truly put Moroni’s promise to the test (see Moro. 10:4). I wanted to be a successful missionary, so that evening I made up my mind to gain a sure knowledge of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.

Later that night, after my companion had fallen asleep, I went into the bathroom, softly closed the door, and knelt down on the hard, damp floor. Before beginning my prayer, I thought of all the things I wanted to say; then I closed my eyes and began to speak to my Heavenly Father, telling him how much I wanted a testimony of the Book of Mormon. I spoke for a few minutes; then, while switching my weight from one knee to the other, trying to relieve the pressure caused by the rock floor, I listened intently for the still, small voice that would give me the spiritual feast I was longing for.

Time went by slowly as I spoke, listened, spoke, listened, and listened some more. When I felt my knees could take it no longer, I closed my prayer and returned to my room. I felt discouraged, yet I was determined not to give up, for I knew Heavenly Father wanted me to succeed. Lying in the warmth of my bed, I made mental note of some of the things I might need to do to get the answer I was seeking.

The next morning came quickly, and I again found myself on my knees making the same petition. This time, however, I couldn’t take as long to pray because of our need to get to work.

My companion and I spent most of the morning tracting. Finally, just before lunch an older gentleman invited us into his home. We sat down, and after conversing for a moment, my companion began the first discussion. As a new missionary, my role was to bear witness to the things he was teaching.

While my companion was finishing the final part of the discussion, I began to feel an extraordinarily sweet spirit fill the room. It was a feeling I had experienced briefly before but never with the fulness that was then coming over me. I looked at the man sitting across from us, then back at my companion, wondering if they were enjoying the same sensations. My companion was nearing the part in the discussion where I was to bear witness to the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. Soon he stopped and indicated to me with his eyes that it was my turn to testify.

I don’t remember my exact words, nor do I recall how the man or my companion reacted. I do remember the delightful warmth of the Holy Ghost bearing witness to me, as I bore witness to our friend, that the Book of Mormon is the most correct book on the face of the earth. I also remember the tears sliding down my cheeks. At last I knew I had a sure, unwavering testimony of the Book of Mormon—a testimony that would help me greatly during my remaining two years in Argentina.

I don’t know if the man we taught ever joined the Church; I hope he did. But I do know, without hesitation, that one of our Heavenly Father’s children had his prayers answered that day in Argentina.