Chapter 19
United as a Family
One evening in June 1978, Billy Johnson returned to his home in Cape Coast, Ghana. He and other members of his congregation had been fasting, as they often did, but the fast had done nothing to lift his spirits. He was tired and discouraged because more believers had stopped worshipping with him and returned to their old churches.
Billy longed to feel spiritually and emotionally strong again. A couple of months earlier, a member of his congregation had told him about a revelation she’d had. “Very soon the missionaries will come,” she had said. “I have seen white men coming to our church. They embraced us and joined us in worship.” Another woman announced that she had received a similar revelation. Billy himself had dreamed of some white men entering his chapel and saying, “We are your brothers, and we have come to baptize you.” Afterward, he’d dreamed of Black people coming from far and wide to join the Church.
Still, Billy could not shake his discouragement.
It was getting late, but he couldn’t sleep. A strong impression overtook him to listen to the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) on the radio—something he hadn’t done in years.
He found the radio, a brown model with four silver knobs near the base. The radio crackled to life as he turned it on. He fiddled with the knobs, and the red pointer glided back and forth across the dial. But he couldn’t find the broadcast.
Then, after an hour of searching, Billy finally made out a newscast from the BBC. The reporter announced that the president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had received a revelation. All worthy men in the Church, regardless of race, could now hold the priesthood.
Billy collapsed, bursting into tears of joy. Priesthood authority would finally come to Ghana.
Like the vast majority of Saints, Ardeth Kapp, second counselor in the Young Women general presidency, celebrated when she heard that all worthy men could now receive the priesthood. “Another new revelation, and this one so beautiful,” she reflected. “How blessed we are, how thankful for a prophet to guide us in these latter days.”
The announcement of the revelation on priesthood came not long after Young Women general president Ruth Funk informed Ardeth that their presidency would be honorably released. The news had surprised everyone. Most previous presidencies had served for at least a decade. Her presidency would be ending after only five and a half years.
Now Ardeth was struggling to understand the Lord’s timing. Serving the young women had given her a new sense of purpose. Now that her calling was coming to an end, what did the future have in store for her?
“At forty-seven years of age, I don’t believe it’s all over—especially at a time when I’m better prepared than ever before to understand and see the big picture,” she wrote in her journal. She knew she had more to offer. “Yet,” she wrote, “I don’t see an opportunity at this moment to make a difference of much consequence.”
The release was particularly difficult because the Young Women presidency still had much more they wanted to do. The first years of their service had been slowed down by organizational adjustments in the Church. The name Aaronic Priesthood MIA had proven cumbersome, and it left people confused about how the young women fit into the program. After President Harold B. Lee’s death, the new First Presidency had retired the name “Mutual Improvement Association” and created two separate youth organizations, Young Women and Aaronic Priesthood.
Even after these changes took place, Ardeth and other Young Women leaders continued to be unsure about the place of young women in the Church structure. Initially, the changes created communication channels that did not allow for the general presidency to train or correspond directly with local Young Women leaders. Instead, they had to relay their messages through local priesthood leaders. Although communication with local leaders had since improved, the Young Women general president still had little contact with the First Presidency or Quorum of the Twelve, since most contact with them took place through a member of the Seventy acting as an intermediary.
The Young Women presidency had done their best to move forward. President Funk had decided early in her presidency to develop a program to help young women nurture their spirituality, achieve personal goals, and honor the roles of wife and mother, which she believed were under attack in popular media.
The new program debuted in 1977. Called “My Personal Progress,” it encouraged young women to develop skills in six areas: spiritual awareness, service and compassion, homemaking arts, recreation and the natural world, cultural arts and education, and personal and social refinement. It also encouraged young women to keep a journal, something President Kimball invited all Saints to do. That same year, Ardeth published a bestselling book, Miracles in Pinafores and Bluejeans, which told stories from her own life and the lives of heroic young women, past and present.
In late June 1978, Ardeth and other Church leaders were in Nauvoo, Illinois, for the dedication of the Monument to Women Memorial Garden. The two-acre garden featured twelve statues of women at different stages of life, with emphasis on motherhood. Along with a general women’s satellite broadcast to be held later that year—a first in the Church—the monument was designed to honor the significance of women in the gospel plan, affirm their contributions as wives and mothers, and commemorate the founding of the Relief Society in 1842. The day of the dedication was rainy, but twenty-five hundred women witnessed the ceremony from under a huge tent.
A few weeks after the dedication, the First Presidency honorably released the Young Women general presidency. Ardeth now felt better about it. “At this moment in time,” she wrote, “I feel more optimistic, more committed, more confident, and more grateful than I can express.”
Ardeth’s bishop soon called her to serve as the ward’s first-year Laurel adviser. She was eager to draw on her recent experience in the general presidency to teach and train these sixteen-year-old girls. In her journal, she wrote, “I really believe with the Lord’s help, I can reach each one.”
On September 29, 1978, President Kimball spoke in Salt Lake City at a seminar for the Church’s regional representatives. “We have an obligation, a duty, a divine commission,” he said, “to preach the gospel in every nation and to every creature.”
The Church now had more than four million members, and it was growing by well over one hundred thousand converts a year. But people everywhere still needed the gospel. He felt an urgency to reach them. “We have hardly scratched the surface,” he declared.
More than twenty-six thousand missionaries were now serving full-time across the globe, far more than could be trained in existing facilities. To prepare this vast group, Church leaders had recently built the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, where new missionaries would come for four to eight weeks to study one of twenty-five different languages, including sign language for the deaf.
New fields of labor were opening all the time. With President Kimball’s encouragement, David Kennedy, the First Presidency’s personal representative, had recently helped the Church become officially recognized in Portugal and Poland. Now he was working on doing the same in India, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, Hungary, Romania, and Greece. But there was so much more left to do.
In President Kimball’s talk before the regional representatives, he referred to believers in Ghana and Nigeria. “They have waited so long already,” he said. “Can we ask them to wait any longer?” He did not think so. “What of Libya, Ethiopia, Ivory Coast, and Sudan, and others?” he asked. “These are names that must become as familiar to us as Japan, Venezuela, New Zealand, and Denmark have become.”
China, the Soviet Union, and many other nations also needed the restored gospel, but they had not yet officially recognized the Church and had no local congregations. “There are almost three billion people now living on the earth in nations where the gospel is not now being preached,” he said. “If we could only make a small beginning in every nation, soon the converts among each kindred and tongue could step forth as lights to their own people and the gospel would thus be preached in all nations before the coming of the Lord.”
He wanted the Saints to pray and prepare. He thought barriers to the Church’s growth would remain until the Saints were ready for them to fall. The Church needed its members, young and old, to learn languages and serve missions. “The only lasting peace that can come is the peace of the gospel of Jesus Christ,” he told the regional representatives. “We must take it everywhere to everyone.”
The next day, the Salt Lake Tabernacle was filled to capacity for general conference. At President Kimball’s request, his counselor N. Eldon Tanner approached the pulpit and read the First Presidency’s statement announcing that all worthy men could hold the priesthood, regardless of race.
“Recognizing Spencer W. Kimball as a prophet, seer, and revelator,” he said, “and president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, it is proposed that we as a constituent assembly accept this revelation as the word and will of the Lord.”
He asked everyone in favor to raise their right hand, and a sea of hands rose into the air. He asked if anyone opposed. Not a single hand went up.
Shortly after the conference, President Kimball sat at the end of a long table in a boardroom of the Church Administration Building. Joining him were his counselors, several general authorities, and two older couples, Edwin and Janath Cannon and Rendell and Rachel Mabey. The Cannons and the Mabeys had just agreed to serve as the first missionaries in West Africa, though the call meant that Janath would have to be released as first counselor in the Relief Society general presidency.
The group discussed the missionaries’ assignment and the challenges they were likely to face as they made contact with believers in Ghana and Nigeria. When the time came to end the meeting, forty minutes later, President Kimball thanked the couples for their faithfulness.
“Are there any more questions?” he asked.
Elder Mabey looked at the other missionaries. “Only one for the moment,” he said. “How soon would you like us to leave?”
President Kimball smiled.
Rudá Martins was the first member of her family to learn about the priesthood revelation. When the news broke, the phone lines in their Rio de Janeiro neighborhood were down, so a family friend had traveled forty minutes by bus to tell her. The young woman had knocked on the door, calling out that she had news.
“I heard the Church received a revelation,” she said, telling Rudá that all worthy men could now hold the priesthood.
Helvécio was at work, so Rudá had to wait to tell him. “I have news, amazing news!” she said when he finally got home. “Helvécio, you will hold the priesthood.”
Helvécio was speechless. He couldn’t believe it. Then the phone started ringing and he answered it. On the other end was a colleague in Salt Lake City.
“I have the official declaration in my hands,” the colleague said, “and I’m going to read it to you.”
After Helvécio hung up the phone, he and Rudá wept as they offered a grateful prayer to their Heavenly Father. The dedication of the São Paulo Temple was only a few months away. And now they would be able to receive their endowment and be sealed together with their four children.
Two weeks later, Helvécio and Marcus received the Aaronic Priesthood. One week after that, Helvécio was ordained an elder, and he immediately conferred the Melchizedek Priesthood on Marcus. Marcus was engaged to marry a returned missionary, Mirian Abelin Barbosa, and they had already sent out invitations to their wedding. Yet they decided to postpone their marriage so Marcus could serve a mission.
In early November 1978, the Martinses attended the temple dedication. Rudá sat with the choir near President Kimball and other general authorities who had come for the ceremony. Helvécio was sitting in the congregation with their children. Missionaries from Brazil’s four missions had been given permission to attend the dedication, so Marcus, now a full-time missionary in the São Paulo North Mission, was able to attend as well.
A few days later, on November 6, Rudá, Helvécio, and Marcus received their endowment. They were then ushered to a sealing room, where Marcus served as a witness as Rudá and Helvécio were sealed for time and eternity. The three younger children were brought into the room, dressed in white.
“Mom,” the couple’s three-year-old daughter asked, “what will we do here?”
“We will kneel at this table,” Rudá said, referring to the altar, “and we will be united as a family.”
The little girl then said, “I’m glad I will really be your daughter.”
“You already are my daughter,” Rudá assured her.
The family took their places around the altar, and the sealer performed the ceremony. Of the children, only Marcus was old enough to fully understand the significance of the moment. But each of the children seemed to sense the wonder and happiness in the room. For Rudá and Helvécio, the sight of their family together in the temple was beautiful. Joy overwhelmed them.
“They are mine now,” Rudá thought. “They are truly mine.”
After her baptism, Katherine Warren often traveled to the city of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, some eighty miles northwest of her home in New Orleans, to study the Bible with her extended family. Many of them had recently begun attending a Pentecostal church in the area. Katherine would bring insights from the restored gospel to her study, but she was careful not to weary her relatives with her enthusiasm for the Church. “I don’t want to pile too much on you at once,” she told them.
When she learned about the priesthood revelation, however, Katherine could hardly contain herself. Katherine called her niece Betty Baunchand about the news. Betty’s family had been studying the Bible with her, but she didn’t know much about the Church and didn’t understand the significance of the revelation.
But Katherine’s bishop did. He called her up right away. “Sister Katherine,” he said, “are you familiar with what’s happening now?”
“Yes,” she replied.
The bishop didn’t quite know what to say. “You’re a good person,” he finally said. “I’m thinking about making you a missionary.”
One month after the announcement, Freda Beaulieu, the one other Black woman in the New Orleans Ward, traveled over a thousand miles to the nearest temple, in Washington, DC, where she received her endowment and was sealed by proxy to her late husband.
Although temple blessings were now available to her and so many others for the first time, Katherine did not go to the temple right away. But she did give thanks to her Heavenly Father.
One day, Betty Baunchand’s husband, Severia, saw a coworker reading a Book of Mormon. Having talked with Katherine about the Church, Severia struck up a conversation with him, and he asked Severia if he wanted to meet with the missionaries. “OK,” Severia said, “let them come by.”
The elders visited that night and taught the first of seven lessons from The Uniform System for Teaching Families, the Church’s latest series of missionary discussions. Published in 1973, the lessons were available in twenty languages, including English, and opened with an introduction to the First Vision, the Book of Mormon, and the restoration of the priesthood.
The family enjoyed the discussion and scheduled another visit with the missionaries. Both Betty and Severia were eager to learn more, and they invited other family members to attend the discussions. Soon, the Baunchand home was full whenever the missionaries were there.
On a weekend when Katherine was visiting the family, she overheard Betty talking on the telephone. “No,” Betty said, “we’ll go another time. My aunt is up here from New Orleans.”
“Who is that?” Katherine asked.
“Elders from the Latter-day Church.” They were inviting the family to attend Sunday meetings.
“Tell them yes.”
So that Sunday, everyone in the family attended the meetings in Baker, Louisiana. And during subsequent lessons with the missionaries, everyone made commitments to obey the Word of Wisdom and law of chastity, pay tithing, accept Jesus Christ as their Savior and Redeemer, and endure to the end.
About two weeks after their first visit to the church, the Baunchands called Katherine. “Guess what?” they said. “We’re getting baptized, and you’ve got to come to our baptism!”
On the day of the baptism, the meetinghouse was packed. One hundred and ten Church members came out to welcome Betty and Severia and eleven of Katherine’s other relatives into their ward. The cultural hall and baptismal font area were under construction, so the whole service was chilly. But the Spirit was powerful, warming everyone in the room.
Katherine wept as she wrapped dry towels around her newly baptized family members. “This was a moment for which I have waited and prayed for a long time,” she said afterward. She loved the Church, and she wanted Black members like her and her family to receive all the blessings it offered.
She knew the Savior had His eyes on the Saints.
On November 18, 1978, Anthony Obinna solemnly approached three Americans—one woman and two men—waiting for him at his congregation’s meetinghouse in southeast Nigeria. Anthony had come as soon as he’d heard about their arrival. He had been expecting them for more than a decade.
The Americans were Elder Rendell Mabey, Sister Rachel Mabey, and Elder Edwin Cannon. They asked, “Are you Anthony Obinna?”
“Yes,” Anthony replied, and they entered the meetinghouse. The building was about thirty feet long. The letters “LDS” adorned the wall above one door, and the words “Missionary Home” above another. Just under the roof someone had painted the words “Nigerian Latter Day Saints.”
“It has been a long, difficult wait,” Anthony told the visitors, “but that doesn’t matter now. You have come at last.”
“A long wait, yes,” Elder Cannon said, “but the gospel really is here now in all its fullness.”
The missionaries asked Anthony to tell his story, so he told them he was forty-eight years old and the assistant schoolmaster at a nearby school. He recounted how he had dreamed years ago of the Salt Lake Temple and then later happened upon a picture of it in an old magazine. He had never even heard of the Church before. “But there before my eyes,” Anthony said, his voice struggling with emotion, “was the very building I had visited in my dream.”
He told the missionaries about his careful study of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, his correspondence with LaMar Williams, and his sorrow over the continued lack of a Church presence in Nigeria. But he also bore witness of his faith and his refusal to give up hope, even when he and his fellow believers had faced persecution because of their devotion to the truth.
After Anthony finished his story, Elder Mabey asked to speak with him privately. They stepped into the neighboring room, and Elder Mabey asked if there were any laws in Nigeria that would restrict baptism because the Church was not yet legally registered. Anthony said there were none.
“Well,” Elder Mabey said, “I’m delighted to hear that. We must do a lot of traveling during the next few weeks to visit other groups like your own.” He said that visiting these groups might take five to six weeks and that the missionaries could return then to baptize Anthony and his group.
“No, please,” Anthony said. “I know that there are many others, but we have been waiting for thirteen years.” He looked into Elder Mabey’s eyes. “If it is humanly possible,” Anthony said, “go ahead with the baptisms now.”
“Are most of your people truly ready?” asked Elder Mabey.
“Yes, absolutely, yes!” Anthony replied. “Let us baptize those strongest in the faith now and teach the others further.”
Three days later, Anthony met with Elder Mabey to discuss how to lead a branch of the Church. Outside, little children sang a new song they had learned from the missionaries:
Soon, Anthony, the missionaries, and the other believers gathered on the bank of a secluded pool on the Ekeonumiri River. The pool was about thirty feet across, with dense green bushes and trees all around. Patches of bright sunlight filtered through the trees and danced on the water’s surface, while small, colorful fish darted back and forth near the bank.
Elder Mabey waded into the water and took Anthony by the hand. Anthony smiled and followed him in. After steadying himself, Anthony gripped Elder Mabey’s wrist, and the missionary raised his right hand.
“Anthony Uzodimma Obinna,” he said, “having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”
Anthony felt the water envelop him as Elder Mabey immersed him. And when he came out of the water, the crowd along the bank let out a collective sigh—followed by joyous laughter.
Once Anthony’s wife, Fidelia, and seventeen other people were baptized, the group returned to their meetinghouse. Anthony and three of his brothers—Francis, Raymond, and Aloysius—were ordained to the office of priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. Elder Mabey set Anthony apart as president of the Aboh Branch, with Francis and Raymond as his counselors.
By the authority of the priesthood he held, Anthony then set Fidelia apart as the branch Relief Society president.