How do you feel about that experience now?

For me, it was more than 40 years ago, so I rarely even think about it. I don’t have any strong emotions connected to my mission, but I suppose it was a significant experience.

I’m fortunate that I don’t have any guilt about convincing anyone to join the church. I did teach one young couple that decided to get baptized, but a truly unusual combination of circumstances (including a military coup) forced them to quickly move away to an area where there were no missionaries. Not only was I never in a companionship that had a baptism, I was never in a district that had a baptism, and it wasn’t until late in my mission that I was even in a zone that had a baptism.

I suppose there were some aspects of serving a mission that were good for me. Prior to my mission, not only had I never travelled internationally, I had only been to a handful states, all in the western US. Sill in my teens, I traveled halfway around the world. Learning a new language, experiencing a different culture, appreciating different sights, sounds, foods, etc. helped me grow as a person. When I was 19, seeing the world didn’t motivate me, now I have been to dozens of countries on five different continents. I don’t know that I would have travelled that much if it weren’t for my first foreign trip. So, it wasn’t all bad, but...we worked so hard and I was usually frustrated and often felt unworthy.

Bottom line: if I could go back in time, I would tell my 19 year old self to not go.

I'll just get this out of the way quickly: I went because I thought it would do ME good. And I was right.

And going through the temple just before leaving was a real blessing, in that it showed me that if there was a ghawd, he had nothing going on with the mormon church.

So it was "EOD Does a Two-Year Road Trip!" I was a piss-poor emissary of the mormon church, but screw them.

And I did do some growing up, but given from where I was starting, it would have been very difficult not to have made some progress.

So for me it was time well spent. Hooray, May, 1965!

Someday I'll tell you about making out with an LM from my mission in Ogden, in 1974, after she'd come out as gay ... Wait! I just did!

My mission been bery bery gud to me. If I had to do it all over again, I'd bring condoms.

Truly the Muggsy Bogues of Mormon missionaries. . .

I went because I didn't see options that were really viable for my situation in the early 80s.
Those options did certainly exist, I just didn't value them enough compared to the mission. What did I know?

I was very glad to go european over central/south america for the more modernized conditions.

It was tedious and dull. The religious aspects were pretty light weight as the locals had largely taken religion culturally, not spiritually and were on a path away from even that. So we rarely did anything deeply religious leaving time for other discussions and cultural experiences. I did not have a testimony prior to my mission. I openly said as much in the MTC to my roommates. I did not have a testimony afterward.

I baptized no one though I taught five people who did get baptized at some point. I never bought baptismal clothing or spent any money for Books of Mormon or pamphlets. I never gave any one a BoM. I never gave a baptismal challenge.

I learned to posture culturally to remain in the good graces of the culture and family I knew just like the people I "served". I still didn't really know myself to a productive degree.

I did figure out some lifepaths I was seriously considering were not a good match for me. And that was beneficial as the time obligation was even higher than a mission overall. I figured out that I wasn't interested in being involved with mormonism.

I don't think I would tell myself not to go. Sure there are other faster cheaper ways to get to where I am. But I don't know that those other ways would have been as effective or personally illustrative at instilling the necessary identification of my authentic self. And as you'll note above, posturing religiously was my lifestyle. Adaptive mimicry to pass without notice.

I would tell myself to ignore the rules even more. And I was a comparatively rebellious missionary for my mission. Which was still pretty obedient as against other stories I've read.

I served for two years in Samoa, 50 years ago. Most of my stay was on the back sides of the islands, meaning no running water, no electricity, and of course, no real means of communication. It was hot, humid, and I was in culture shock. I was beyond homesick. I was deeply depressed, and literally counted the days until I would come home.

I remember being sick with dysentery within hours of arriving. It would last days. I would look at the calendar and realize that in a year, I'd still have a year left.

We couldn't phone home, there was no TV, we did have a radio station, which was used by the mission president to communicate to his elders if a transfer was coming, etc. I lived in grass huts with mats on the floor, and no furniture. I ate taro, fish, and some nice papaya. And of course, all the coconut you would ever want. I paid the family I stayed with $2.50 per week, which included the hut, two meals per day, and full laundry service.

But by the time my mission ended, I was fluent in Samoan, made many, many friends, and really enjoyed the culture I was living. I love the South Pacific and am very glad that I was lucky enough to be sent there, rather than a stateside mission where I'm pretty sure I would have failed. Everyone in Samoa knew the Mormon Missionaries, and pretty much accepted what we had to say. Didn't mean they would join, but many did. But in short, I worked hard to make the best of a really sad situation.

I went on a mission because I didn't know what to do with my life. I was a good missionary in one sense, but totally uncommitted to the church in another. Soon after my mission, I was drifting away, but it took eight years to finally escape.

So, no possible way I would go again. Like many of you, I have often dreamed that I am either still there, or going again. These are nightmares.

I was not really wanting to go on a mission, neither my parents or my girlfriend were pressuring me to go, but everywhere else there was enormous pressure from professors, family, friends, etc. This was in the 70s during SWK's every young man must go on a mission. I had two problems I did not buy the church being true and I thought that the B of M was a fraud, and I had the feeling that I did not have a testimony because I was not "worthy", I was too cynical and trusted my own judgement and learning.

The turning point came when I came home for the weekend and attended three missionary farewells for my closest friends on a single unday. I went outside the Church as was talking with a girl that I had really liked in high school, we'd known each other since 7th grade and she asked me if I had changed my mind about not going. She said something like, "if you don't go, you'll ruin your whole life, as your girlfriend won't stay with you, you'll be distrusted when looking for a job, etc etc etc. I finally decided I might as well go sign up. When I told my dad he said "be careful that's how I got sent off two WWII."


I lucked out and got sent to a beautiful country, where the people had no f...ing interest in being Mormons. My mission president was an overbearing dictatorial a$$hole who made us work day and night, and took away most allowable P-day activities, or phone call homes or letters to friends. I also lucked out after about 3/4 through I got very sick and eventually got sent home.

So all in all the good side is I learned the Church was based on a 19th century forgery and con man, but I wasted a couple of years of my life and a few more of my health. In the end I've been able to get into the culture of my mission country and made many friends there (some of them exmos).

Post script - the girl from highschool had two wonderful sons, both were gay, and both have committed suicide. I talked with her a few times at high school reunions and she seemed to be leaning towards the Exmo side of the meter, but I have not seen her since hearing about her sons.

“I also lucked out after about 3/4 through I got very sick and eventually got sent home.”

I was hospitalized twice during my mission, but going home early was never even discussed. I wonder to what degree my health (or lack of same) over the past 40+ years is due to my mission.

Mission president kept me locked up in the mission home for three weeks after a doctor in Norway said I should go home or quit being a missionary. ( He was new and did not want a missionary going home reflecting badly on his chance of becoming a GA>) I finally got to talk to my doctor and my parents by phone. My doctor was a doctor for several general authorities. My MP got a phone call about an hour after I talked to my doctor and told me I would be going home, he seemed quite shaken up. My friend who worked in the office later told me it was a member of the first presidency, but my doctor denied that is who he called. He did tell me he pulled some strings.

Did being LDS relate to the suicides ?

Sorry in any case, that is...

I doubt she had anything to do with putting evil pressure on them, always seemed very kind and understanding to me. I have suspected her very vocal TBM ex-husband was gay since I first met him. Probably lots of drama behind the scenes.

The pressure the church puts on gay children both directly and through a parent here or there is one of Mormonism's greatest evils. Countless lives have been destroyed, countless others impaired by a sense of guilt and inadequacy.

That alone is enough to prove there is no loving God behind the LDS church.

My mission was difficult. On the last day of my 18 month sentence I was grateful that I had finished. I wasn't necessarily grateful that I had "served" but grateful that I had made it to the end, kind of like making it to the end of a grueling marathon.

I loved the experience of living in a European country, meeting interesting people and forming new friendships, but the approximately 2,700 hours spent knocking on doors was a huge waste of time. It was tedious and tortuous - - a lesson in "enduring to the end" that I really didn't need to learn.

There were some positives of my mission, but if I could go back in time I wouldn't have gone and I wouldn't encourage anyone to go. For me it was more damaging than helpful. At least the negative experience started my exit out of LDS Inc.

Learning to live on my own was useful (arranging apartment rental, learning bus routes in unfamiliar cities, that sort of thing).

Portuguese was a delightful language, and I still work a bit to keep my skills up. Even easier than Spanish for an English speaker, IMHO, and very melodic.

I got to see a lot of Brazil, and saw life under a military dictatorship. That was useful.

Otherwise, waste of time. Would I do it again if I could go back in time? Hell, no.

> I got to see a lot of Brazil, and saw life under a
> military dictatorship. That was useful.

How timely that experience is proving.

Ain't that the truth. Except this time the US military seems to have rather emphatically NOT bought in. Nor have we reached the stage of political opponents and reporters being assassinated, unless you consider the Russians and Saudis subcontractors, which I do not. Yet.

I genuinely considered living under a military dicatorship to be instructive. It was one backed by the US, so I was in very little danger of arrest. They weren't going to pick a fight with the hand that feeds them. I knew Brazilians who had been arrested and tortured. During some of the protest periods, there were roving squads of soldiers patrolling the downtown area, armed with automatic rifles.

There were a few Mormons in the US Army Special Forces who were down there as military consultants. They warned us to keep our butts as far from the protests as possible. We generally ignored them. We were young and stupid.

As long as you didn't get crosswise with the government, life went on more or less as normal, though the import and export laws were pretty bizarre. Unfortunately for Brazilians, it did not take all that much to get crosswise with the government. If I were there then as a Brazilian, with the attitude I have now, I likely would have been in trouble.

Come to think of it, Jair Bolsonaro is a pretty good reprise of the 1960s-70s in Brazil.



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 09/22/2020 03:58PM by Brother Of Jerry.

The US military surely "bought in" when the president decided to attack Lafayette Square or at least did not refuse to be "brought in."

I know what you mean about living under a tyranny. I've spent several years in a couple such countries, learned a ton, and seen some horrible things. You are right that most of the people in those countries are fine most of the time. But one stumbles unwittingly into trouble with the authorities, or an authority takes offense at you for personal reasons, or you suddenly need justice but can't get it.

One of the things that disturbs me is the very large number of Americans who have no idea what the descent into authoritarianism means. Some don't know the value of a constitution and a republic until it is gone.

It kept me out of Viet Nam. I still laugh about having scammed the scammers and used their mission program to dodge the draft. As an old man I'm happy I did that. Viet Nam was idiotic. I lost friends there that were still teens. I learned a foreign language that I still keep up on a bit and I had some excellent fishing in the Punta Arenas area. I learned how to play their game well enough to fly below the radar and got to live in a foreign country that was in turmoil. All enlightening experience. Mostly it cemented my suspicion that there was no discernment and that it was all a bunch of hooey. It wasn't long after I got back that I was out at a young age and for that I have always been grateful and had a wonderful life as a result. Knowing what I now know I wouldn't do it again and I would have dealt with the draft differently, but at the time it seemed like a good choice. I do not encourage young folks to do the mission gig as it seems even more damaging and preposterous than it was 50 years ago.

It was an escaspe from the small farming community, 20 miles from the nearest gas station. I was glad to have a reason to go. I came home from 2 years of whatever. The biggest city I had been to was a population of around 70,000. So going stateside to a big city was great. When in rural areas i would always go help local farmers with whatever they were doing in the season. I loved university towns, with all the young people to inter-act with. Overall it was a pretty good experience. Our MP was pretty chill. He just didn't want any trouble or confilct. Pretty well he was a whatever kind of guy. Had some absolutely moronic companions. Has a good knock down drag out battle with one of them.A farm kid pretty well showed him where the bear bear crapped in the forest.Next day he caught a bus to the mission home. Never did see him again. As far as teaching and stuff-whatever. If there was something more interesting to do we were on it. Teaching girls our age-all over it. that was about 50 years ago.

I went to the Philippines Manila Mission 86-88. I'm not sure I regret it now. I DO regret baptizing dozens of Filipinos into a cult, but I'm pretty sure most of them are out now, except for a couple who are very TBM and on facebook. If they talk to me I tell them how I feel about the mormon cult and that usually ends the conversation.

Boy was I young, arrogant, and ignorant. I got sick right away and was in the hospital a few times with Amoebas and Typhus fever. Still I felt that I would be fine because I was doing the lord's work and I wouldn't die. Idiot. Same thing goes for running into armed gurellias in the jungle. Never occured to me they might kill me thinking I was with the CIA or something like that. Then there were the Typhoons. Those killed several thousand people per storm. I was on this island with no power and running water and the typhoon went right over us. We were in the eye for what felt like an hour. Still, I wasn't worried because I had god on my side.

Looking back I was stupid and lucky. I did learn a lot about how most of the world lives. I felt what it was like to live in poverty, washing my clothes by hand and scrounging up whatever food I could find. I remember being hungry all the time. Perhaps it was just the Amoebas.

I've since learned to forgive my young mormon self. I've learned from it and I've moved on. It was a process that took years once I realized that I was in a cult.

Off topic, but the other day I mentioned that I'd had some close calls in a handful of developing countries. One of those, albeit one that turned out well, was on an outlying island in the Philippines where I was doing some work at a refugee camp.

On a free afternoon a friend and I went to a deserted beach. My friend disappeared for ten minutes to relieve himself and I was alone. A man of 40 or 45 appeared in a pair of shorts, flip flops, and a straw hat. He said he was a general and that the beach was permanently closed.

He spoke decent English but I thought since there were no signs and he was dressed so casually, he might be lying. I suppressed the urge to say something rude because he seemed friendly enough, and then he said it would be okay if my friend and I stayed there. So we proceeded to discuss some common interests and I realized he was very intelligent and well educated.

About ten minutes later a jeep emerged from the jungle on a dirt road and three solders in full dress dismounted, saluted the man, and asked his instructions. He spoke to them, then turned and said goodbye to us, climbed into the vehicle and drove off with the soldiers. I realized then that the officer could have killed me and no one would ever have objected.

No one, in fact, would ever even have heard.

Crazy right? It sounds like you might have been on Palawan. I never went there. I was on Cebu, Masbate, Samar, and, of course, Luzon.

I did get to see a lot of things on my mission and I learned to speak a little Tagalog. Still, I probably should have paid more attention in school and gotten my degree. I dunno. Looking back I'm actually glad I got to experience life from a completely different perspective.

Palawan indeed. Several hours by jeep truck, with pigs and chickens hanging and squawking from the back, north of Puerto Princessa.

The Philippines is, in my limited experience, a great place. By contrast, I saw some ugly things over the years in Malaysia and especially Indonesia. In one instance I saw the police beat a man nearly to death and then explain that they had to do that because his gang might buy him out of jail before his hearing the next day. I was also once staying with a friend when her father, a politician, went out on the campaign trail--with two suitcases full of cash.



ETA: I share your mixed feelings about your mission. I absolutely hated mine but learned things about the world that changed my life.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/23/2020 12:52AM by Lot's Wife.

My mission was hell. I still have nightmares and it’s been over 30 years. The upside is it was the beginning of my journey out. Had plenty of time to start questioning the crazy theology, and being exposed to the command and control was eye opening. Nothing like being a 23 year old woman with a 19 year old DL that nearly got me killed then laughed about it. Long story, but the two guys he brought to church told him they wanted to have sex with me and my comp. they were following us home making threats, and the DL refused to get us safely home. We literally slammed the door just before they were able to harm us.

When I confronted him the next day, he laughed, put his fists up and asked me if I wanted to fight him. I threw my scriptures down, kicked him in the groin and walked away. I’ll let you guess who got in trouble for that one.

How do I feel about the experience now?

Sort of "ugh." I was one of those that went on a mission because I really didn't have much else going on...and I had just gone through a phase of my testimony strengthening. Seemed like a good idea.

I went to Texas. First day in the mission field, I was asked to learn Spanish. No resources except one book (the missionary training manual I would have gotten in the MTC) or help. I eventually did and it's served me well my whole life being fluent from that point on. I use Spanish every day now.

I didn't have any real nightmare situations on my mission. I tried to be a little more laid back, not take things seriously, but still worked pretty hard for the cult.

Went home and lived my life. The only regret is that it kept me in longer.

Do I wish that I hadn't gone? In a lot of ways, yes. But nobody pressured me--in fact nobody in my teens ever asked, lol--so it was my decision. Waste of time? Yes, except for learning Spanish.

I tell this story much too often, but it does me some mental good to talk about it. I went on a mission just over 50 years ago, during David O. McKay's administration. I went to Italy, where I wanted to go (and yes, they asked me back then where I wanted to go, but never guaranteed it; I had already had college Italian). It was right at the time when they went from 2 1/2 years for a mission there, to opening up language training at Allen Hall, on the corner of 700N and 100E in Provo. I was among the very first.

It was a better and far easier time then. No pressure to go, and far more mature missionaries; all kinds of guys got in one or two years of college, or even more. Many had to serve in Vietnam, and then went on a mission afterwards. We had a 26 year old guy who had been a Marine sniper in Vietnam. A friend was companion to a guy who had already served as a fighter pilot in the Canadian Air Force. Our women missionaries seemingly all late 20's, early 30's. One was a registered nurse.

We got to do things that are forbidden today. We wrote home from our apartments, so all relatives knew where we were. We went on transfers -- LOOOOONG transfers -- all by ourselves, sometimes spending 2 days on a train. (Some missionaries would travel from France to the island of Reunion. Think about that. Or would transfer from Switzerland to Lebanon, also a pretty big trip.) We watched movies on P-day, D-day back then, and would go out to eat afterward as a district. We wore suits, but they didn't have to be dark or conservative suits. I had a tan wool summer suit, and would wear flashy ties with it. We got to call home whenever we wanted, as long as we could gin up the money for the very expensive call.

My mission was marred by personal problems, some of which dog me to this day, so there is a very bitter taste in my mouth which I have never successfully rid myself of. Still, despite that, as today's missions go, it was a walk in the park due to the independence we had. And yeah, I wish I had not gone. I think my life would have been somewhat better, and my marriage less stressful.