Let's hope the church isn't smart enough to actually do something like this. Why, this would be like being a real missionary! Just like other christian group in the world!

The best part of my mission was the service. NOT the teaching of the "gospel". I always thought it was super stupid when they cut the real service down to hours a week. I never understood it. It didn't benefit the church I guess or more missionaries would rather help people than teach them so less people were being taught?

ehttp://www.sltrib.com/sltrib/blogsfaithblog/57390741-180/missionaries-church-mormon-fowles.html.csp

I saw this and had a good laugh over it, then wrote an appropriately inappropriate comment to the article.

Now go and do likewise. This is funny stuff. the comments are amazing. And those Mormons who do respond have some very thin skin.

I love this idea! But I also love the fact that the church would never, ever do something this service-oriented and practical. They are insulated from innovation by their hubris.

And, I think the author of the original blog post may find himself in a leetle ecclesiastical hot water over this. Come to the dark side, Brother Fowles! We have wine and rated R movies!

I was really disappointed when I found out we weren't allowed to do more than 4 hours a week in service activities. Half of that time was spent by missionaries screwing around or being disorganized. And they hardly pushed service either.

While it would a great thing and probably more effective at promoting Mormonism and making connections with people who might become interested in the lds church, I have such a difficult time believing lds inc would ever commit its missionaries to doing any significant amount of time doing real charitable work.

When I was a new convert, I sort of became the "foster mom" to the mishies serving in our area. The mishies who taught me didn't have a phone in their apartment (which was ridiculous) so I gave them the key to my mobile home and told them they could come in during the day when I was at work, raid the pantry or refrigerator, and use my phone for business purposes.

I deliberately baked goodies for them (it was such a kick to come home from work and find that missionary mice had been into my cookie jar!) and I never knew, on P-day, how many of them I would find at my home. Might be two, or ten. It didn't matter. I was happy to see them. They were good kids. We would pool our money, get a couple of pizzas and sodas, watch a movie that was within the rules, or just hang out. I remember one youngster from New Zealand saying wistfully, "When we're here, it almost feels like being at home."

Living in a mobile home in the Deep South, my home developed a serious growth of moss or something on one side It looked tacky. I'd had shoulder surgery so I couldn't reach up high enough to scrub it off by myself.

One day, about half-a-dozen mishies appeared on P-day, dressed in grubby clothes, armed with buckets, brooms and detergent. They scrubbed that moss off in no time. I had mentioned it, but it never occurred to me to ask for their help. They just DID it on their own.

One of them explained later, "You do so much for us, we thought it was a way to pay you back." Funny thing - I never thought I was doing anything for them. It was a joy to have them around.

My own son - who was just a few younger than these kids - had been taken from me in a brutal divorce. Having the company and friendship of these mishie kids helped to dull that pain.

Even though they represent a church that sucks, I still have a soft spot in my heart for the mishies. Most of them are really nice kids if you can get through that pompous-assed Mormon veneer.