Chapter 4
The Mission of the Church
On the morning of September 2, 1958, President David O. McKay gazed down at the earth from nineteen thousand feet. Four months had elapsed since he’d dedicated the New Zealand Temple, and already he was on another airplane, flying to the United Kingdom to dedicate the temple in London. Although soaring among the clouds was nothing new for the prophet—since leading the Church, he had flown more than a quarter of a million miles—he was still awed by the ease and speed of air travel. No Church president before him had traveled so far or so fast.
The view from the airplane prompted him to reflect on the rapidly changing world. In the last year, the Soviet Union and United States had launched satellites into orbit around the earth, and now the whole world seemed captivated by the idea of space travel. Yet President McKay believed that even more remarkable changes would unfold over the next several decades, especially for the Church.
“Its great growth of the last twenty-five years can go on to even greater growth and good to the world,” he told the Saints flying with him, “if we are truly well qualified for the opportunities which the Lord is opening up.”
President McKay was especially optimistic about the British Mission. Apostle Heber C. Kimball had opened the mission in 1837. Since then, some 150,000 people had joined the Church in the British Isles. More than half of them, including President McKay’s parents, had emigrated to Utah. President McKay himself had served two missions there—first as a young missionary in the late 1890s and then as the European Mission president in the early 1920s.
But continued emigration, two world wars, economic depression, and lingering public misconceptions had long kept the Church from growing significantly in Britain, and only about eleven thousand Saints now lived there. Still, the new temple had recently sparked immense local interest in the Church.
President McKay arrived in London on September 4, and three days later, Saints from the British Isles and other places in Europe assembled for the dedication. The temple was situated on the grounds of an old English manor in the countryside south of London. The thirty-two-acre site had spacious lawns, ancient oak trees, and an array of shrubs and flowers. A shallow pool nearby reflected the temple’s simple stonework and copper steeple.
President McKay wept when he saw the building. “Imagine me living long enough to build a temple in England,” he said.
Before offering the dedicatory prayer, the prophet spoke with emotion about the Church in Britain. “This is the opening of a new era,” he said, “and we hope and pray for a new era of better understanding on the part of honest people everywhere.”
“More spirit of charity, more spirit of love, less contention and strife,” he declared. “That is the mission of the Church.”
Early in 1959, Sister Nora Koot and her mission companion, Elaine Thurman, boarded a train with a group of Latter-day Saint youth from Tai Po, a rural district in northeast Hong Kong. There was a Church dance that evening at a rented hall in the city, and the youth were nervous about attending. They were all new members of the Church, and none of them had spent much time in the city. They did not know what to expect.
Nora did not really know what to expect either. The dance was the Church’s first Gold and Green Ball in Hong Kong. The Gold and Green Ball, which took its name from the official colors of the Church’s Mutual Improvement Associations, had been a popular annual event for Latter-day Saint youth since the 1920s, especially in areas where Young Men’s and Young Women’s MIAs were well established. The dances provided a good opportunity for young people to meet other Church members, and the American missionaries wanted to introduce the tradition to the Chinese Saints. Over the past year, after all, the Church in Hong Kong had grown by more than nine hundred people.
The train ride to the city took about an hour. When Nora, Elaine, and the Tai Po youth arrived at the dance, they found that the mission’s MIA board—composed wholly of American missionaries—had done everything possible to make the dance like a Gold and Green Ball in the United States. Gold and green streamers arched down from the ceiling, and five hundred balloons hung high above the dance floor, ready to be loosed with the pull of a string at the end of the evening. For refreshments, there were cookies and punch.
But once the ball got underway, something seemed off. There was a loudspeaker rigged up to a record player, and the missionaries were playing popular American dance music. The organizers had set up only a few chairs in the room, hoping a lack of seating would coax the young people onto the dance floor. But the ploy wasn’t working. Hardly anyone was dancing.
After a while, a few Hong Kong Saints started playing the kind of music they liked, and everything changed. The missionaries, it seemed, had not considered local tastes. They had been playing instrumental tunes when what the Chinese Saints wanted were songs with vocals. The Saints also preferred to dance to slow waltzes, cha-chas, and mambos, which the missionaries weren’t playing. Once the music changed, everyone in the room crowded onto the floor and danced.
Despite its rocky start, the Gold and Green Ball was a success. A little before the dance was supposed to end, though, someone released the balloons overhead, sending them tumbling down onto the crowd below. Thinking the ball was over, the Chinese Saints quickly headed for the door. The missionaries tried to call them back so they could at least have a closing prayer, but it was too late. Most everybody was gone.
All evening, Nora had enjoyed watching the Saints from Tai Po mingle with the other young people from the region. Working in Tai Po had been one of the highlights of her mission so far, and the time she spent there had strengthened her testimony.
But a few months after the Gold and Green Ball, she found out it was time to move on. President Heaton was sending her to Taiwan, an island four hundred miles to the east.
That same year, Elder Spencer W. Kimball of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles was enchanted by his first glimpse of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Its towering green mountains and beachfront skyscrapers were draped in an early-morning mist. But from the deck of their ocean liner, Elder Kimball and his wife, Camilla, could easily spot the city’s most famous attraction: Cristo Redentor, a resplendent 125-foot statue of the Savior overlooking the harbor.
Rio de Janeiro was the Kimballs’ first stop on a two-month tour of the Church’s South American missions. Around eight thousand Saints lived in South America, and branches across the continent were growing steadily. Eager to support these congregations, President McKay and his counselors had recently approved the expansion of the Church’s building program into South America, authorizing the construction of twenty-five chapels there.
As Elder Kimball visited with the South American Saints, he wanted to learn their needs and identify ways the Church could help them carry out the work of the Lord. Both he and Sister Kimball had grown up around the Indigenous peoples living on the border between the United States and Mexico. And a few years after being called to the Twelve, Elder Kimball had received a special assignment from President George Albert Smith to minister to Indigenous peoples around the world. He had since taken part in conferences and programs for these Saints in North America, and he hoped to do similar work in South America.
Perhaps more than anything, though, Elder Kimball looked forward to talking with the many Saints he would meet on his tour. A year and a half earlier, doctors had removed cancerous vocal cords from his throat. For a time, he worried he might never be able to speak again. But after many prayers and priesthood blessings, he learned to communicate in a raspy whisper. He was grateful to his Father in Heaven for the miracle.
After staying briefly in Brazil, Elder and Sister Kimball visited Argentina, where the Church had twenty-five branches and about 2,700 members. Since the arrival of missionaries in Argentina in the 1920s, branches of the Church had spread to other Spanish-speaking countries in the region. In the 1940s, missionaries entered Uruguay, Guatemala, Costa Rica, and El Salvador. More recently, in the 1950s, the restored gospel began to be preached in Chile, Honduras, Paraguay, Panama, and Peru.
After several days in Argentina, the Kimballs headed west to Chile, where the Church had seven branches and around three hundred members. Chile had been a part of the Argentine Mission since 1955, and many missionaries believed the country was the most receptive area in the mission.
From the Argentine Mission, the Kimballs traveled to Uruguay to meet with Saints in Montevideo and other cities and towns. They then returned to Brazil for a closer inspection of the mission. Traveling through southern Brazil, they stopped in the city of Joinville, where the Church had first taken root in the country. There Elder Kimball met a Church member who could not hold the priesthood because he had African ancestry. The man was discouraged, sure that the priesthood restriction prevented him from serving in any Church calling.
“I can’t even be a doorkeeper, can I?” he said.
Elder Kimball felt his heart sink. “You can serve wherever priesthood is not a requirement,” he said, hoping this assurance gave the man some comfort.
At other meetings in Brazil, Elder Kimball did not see many Black Saints, leading him to think the priesthood restriction might not be an immediate obstacle for the Church there. But he recognized that almost 40 percent of Brazil’s population had African ancestry, and that raised questions about the future growth of the Church in the country, particularly in its northern states, which had a larger Black population.
The Kimballs’ tour eventually brought them to São Paulo, where they met Hélio da Rocha Camargo and his wife, Nair, who had joined the Church not long after her husband. The couple brought their one-year-old son, Milton, to Elder Kimball for a priesthood blessing. Milton had been born healthy, but lately his limbs had lost their strength and coordination. Doctors feared he might have polio, a paralysis-inducing disease that was afflicting many children and adults around the world. Elder Kimball blessed the boy, and the next day the Camargos were overjoyed when Milton gripped the rails of his crib and stood for the first time.
Elder Kimball received many other requests for priesthood blessings in South America, and he was happy to serve people in this way. But he was surprised to discover that, contrary to Church practice, many eligible boys and men were not being regularly advanced in the priesthood. Hélio, for instance, had brought his son to Elder Kimball for a blessing because he did not hold the Melchizedek Priesthood himself, even though he had been an active member of the Church for nearly two years.
Further, Elder Kimball learned that missionaries were often reluctant to delegate branch and district responsibilities to local Saints. Consequently, few Church members in South America had any experience leading and teaching in the Church. And missionaries were so busy doing work local Saints ought to be doing that they had little time to preach the gospel.
By the end of his tour, Elder Kimball believed some changes were in order. Many Saints outside North America attended branches overseen by district and mission leaders, who often came from the United States. Establishing stakes in these areas would give more Saints the freedom to administer the Church locally.
In May 1958, a month after the dedication of the New Zealand Temple, the Church had organized a stake in Auckland. It was the first stake organized outside of North America and Hawaii. Elder Kimball believed a few places in Argentina and Brazil would soon be ready for a stake as well, and he encouraged mission leaders to work toward that goal. He also concluded that the Church was ready to organize a new mission in Chile and Peru and a second mission in Brazil.
“We are but ‘scratching the surface’ in our work in this land,” he informed the First Presidency shortly after his tour. “Certainly the time is ripe to vigorously proselyte the South American countries.”
Nora Koot arrived in Taiwan in late July 1959, about three years after President Heaton had sent the first group of Latter-day Saint missionaries to the island. With a membership of fewer than three hundred Saints, the Church in Taiwan was neither as large nor as organized as the Church in Hong Kong. Still, the missionaries were finding people to teach among the island’s large population of Chinese refugees, who mainly spoke Mandarin, which Nora also spoke.
After settling into her new area, Nora and her companion, Dezzie Clegg, called on Madam Pi Yi-shu, a member of Taiwan’s chief lawmaking body. Madam Pi had attended school with Nora’s stepmother, who had given Nora a letter of introduction to her old friend. Nora was eager to help Madam Pi see the blessings the Church had to offer the people of Taiwan.
At their meeting, Nora and Dezzie showed Madam Pi the letter of introduction, and she invited them to sit down. A server brought out a beautiful tea set, and Madam Pi offered some Earl Grey tea to her guests.
Although drinking that kind of tea was against the Word of Wisdom, Nora knew it was offensive in her culture to openly refuse tea from her host. But over the years, missionaries and members had devised polite ways to avoid drinking tea when it was offered. For instance, Konyil Chan, a Chinese Saint in Hong Kong who was well versed in social etiquette, had recommended that missionaries simply accept the tea and then discreetly set it aside. “The Chinese people will never force their friends to drink tea,” he had assured them.
Nora and Dezzie graciously declined the tea and explained to Madam Pi that they had come to Taiwan to teach people to be obedient and be good members of their community. Madam Pi, though, kept inviting them to have some tea.
“Begging your pardon, Madam,” Nora finally said, “we don’t drink tea.”
Madam Pi seemed shocked. “Why not?” she asked.
“The Church teaches us to follow a principle called the Word of Wisdom to keep our bodies healthy and our minds clear,” Nora replied. She then explained that Church members did not drink coffee, tea, or alcohol and did not use tobacco or drugs like opium. Church leaders and publications at this time also cautioned against any other drink that contained habit-forming substances.
Madam Pi pondered this for a moment. “Well, what can you drink?” she asked.
“Lots of things,” Nora said. “Milk, water, orange juice, 7 Up, soda.”
Madam Pi asked her server to remove the tea set and bring the missionaries some cold milk. She then gave them her blessing as they taught the people of Taiwan. “I want our people to be better community citizens, to be healthier and more obedient,” she said.
In the days and weeks that followed, Nora shared the restored gospel with many people. Chinese Christians showed the most interest in the Church, but some Buddhists and Taoists were drawn to it as well. Some people in Taiwan were atheists and showed little interest in Christianity or the Church. For others, not having the Book of Mormon or other Church literature in Chinese was an obstacle.
Growth was slow in Taiwan, but the people who joined the Church firmly grasped the importance of the covenants they made at baptism. Before becoming Latter-day Saints, they had to receive all the missionary discussions, attend Sunday School and sacrament meetings regularly, obey the Word of Wisdom and the law of tithing for at least two months, and commit to keeping other commandments. By the time they set a date for baptism, many people meeting with the missionaries in Taiwan were already actively participating in their branches.
One of Nora’s primary responsibilities on the island was to strengthen the Relief Society. Until recently, American elders had led all Relief Societies in Taiwan. This changed in early 1959 when President Heaton sent a missionary named Betty Johnson to set up Relief Societies and train female leaders in Taipei and other cities on the island. Now Nora and her fellow sister missionaries carried on Betty’s work, traveling from branch to branch to give the Relief Society any support it needed.
Nora’s mission ended on October 1, 1959. During her service, she had gained a greater understanding of the gospel and felt her faith increase. For her, the Church’s growth in Hong Kong and Taiwan was a fulfillment of the prophet Daniel’s dream.
The Church was indeed like a stone cut from a mountain without hands, rolling forth to fill the whole earth.
At the time Nora Koot was finishing her mission, forty-seven-year-old LaMar Williams worked at the office of the Church’s Missionary Department in Salt Lake City. When stake or mission leaders needed Church literature or some kind of visual aid, such as a photograph, he shipped it to them. If someone requested general information about the Church, his office mailed them something to read, along with instructions for how to contact the nearest missionaries.
LaMar did not handle every request personally, but he asked his secretary to notify him whenever something came from an uncommon place.
That was how he learned about Nigeria. One day, his secretary brought him a request from a reverend named Honesty John Ekong in Abak, Nigeria. Honesty John had received a pamphlet about Joseph Smith’s story from a Protestant minister, and he filled out a form asking for more information about the Church, a visit from the missionaries, and the location of the nearest Latter-day Saint meetinghouse.
LaMar did not know exactly where Nigeria was, so he and his secretary found it on a map in his office. Since it was in West Africa, they knew right away that the request would be difficult to fulfill. The only congregations in Africa were thousands of miles away on the southern tip of the continent, so he couldn’t send missionaries or provide a meetinghouse address. He also knew that if Honesty John were Black, he would be eligible for baptism, but not the priesthood.
“We’ll have to kind of tread carefully,” LaMar thought. He boxed up some pamphlets and Church books, including six copies of the Book of Mormon, and shipped them to Honesty John’s address.
The reverend replied a short time later. “I have to thank you for the generous gifts you sent to me,” he wrote. From the letter, LaMar could infer that Honesty John was part of a congregation of believers in the restored gospel.
Over the next few months, letters between LaMar and Honesty John crisscrossed the Atlantic Ocean. Honesty John invited LaMar to come to Nigeria and teach his congregation. LaMar wanted to accept the offer, but he knew it would take time for the First Presidency to approve sending anyone to Nigeria. He kept Church leaders aware of the Nigerians’ hunger for more information, though, and went on corresponding with Honesty John and others who contacted him.
In February 1960, LaMar wrote to Honesty John to ask if he had access to a tape recorder. If the Church was not calling missionaries to Nigeria, he could at least send recordings of gospel lessons to the reverend and his congregation. Unfortunately, Honesty John did not have a tape player or the money to buy one. But he did send LaMar his photograph. The image showed a young Black man sitting between his two small children. He wore a suit and tie and had an earnest look on his face.
Honesty John also informed LaMar that his congregation had begun calling themselves The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They longed to meet LaMar and be members of the Church. “If every soul were with wings,” Honesty John told LaMar, “all would like to fly to Salt Lake City to listen to and see you in person.”
“I feel honored that you have a desire for me to come to Nigeria,” LaMar responded, “but I would have to be assigned by the presidency of this Church for such a responsibility.”
“I appreciate the confidence that you have in me, and in your great desire to serve your people,” he continued. “I will do all that I can by correspondence.”