The greatest success in missionary work comes as we act in normal and natural ways; the same is true in ministering.

I invite you to contemplate how you can:

[T]here will always be those who attack the Book of Mormon. I can remember before my mission when a university professor of American literature quoted Mark Twain's pronouncement in the book Roughing It that if you took "and it came to pass" out of the Book of Mormon, "it would have been only a pamphlet." He said that with humor. I could see that his comment concerned some of my classmates.

It was interesting to me a few months later, while serving a mission in London, England, that another professor, a distinguished Oxford-educated teacher at London University, took exactly the opposite position. Dr. [Ebeid] Sarofim, an Egyptian by birth and an expert in Semitic languages, read the Book of Mormon, which he had discovered by accident, and sent a letter to President David O. McKay asking for permission to be baptized. President McKay referred him to the London Mission Home.

Dr. Sarofim met with the missionaries and said he had an intellectual testimony of the validity of the Book of Mormon because he was convinced that it was indeed a translation of the learning of the Jews and the language of the Egyptians for the periods described in the Book of Mormon. One of the many examples he used, and there were a lot of them, was the conjunctive phrase "and it came to pass," which he said mirrored how he would translate phraseology used often in ancient Semitic writings.

The most effective missionaries, member and full-time, always act out of love. I learned this lesson as a young man. I was assigned to visit a less-active member, a successful professional many years older than I. Looking back on my actions, I realize that I had very little loving concern for the man I visited. I acted out of duty, with a desire to report 100 percent on my home teaching. One evening, close to the end of a month, I phoned to ask if my companion and I could come right over and visit him. His chastening reply taught me an unforgettable lesson.

"No, I don't believe I want you to come over this evening," he said. "I'm tired. I've already dressed for bed. I am reading, and I am just not willing to be interrupted so that you can report 100 percent on your home teaching this month." That reply still stings me because I knew he had sensed my selfish motivation.

I hope no person we approach with an invitation to hear the message of the restored gospel feels that we are acting out of any reason other than a genuine love for them and an unselfish desire to share something we know to be precious.