Today was one of the most spiritually fulfilling days of my mission. We had a Zone Conference all about Jesus Christ and the doctrine of baptism. I learned so much. I gave my departing testimony that I'll write up later. Afterwards, a missionary came up to me and pulled me to the corner. He pulled out a purple pencil. I had gone on exchanges with this missionary and he had just started his mission three weeks prior. He said, "a little girl came up to me and gave me this pencil and said, 'you gave me hope.' Now, I want to give you this and tell you, you gave me hope." Another elder with whom I just got off the phone told me it changed his mission and his life and gave him new perspective. Now, my testimony was not all that. However, maybe it touched someone in a place they needed? I hope so. I was so nervous about it. But these little confirmations spoke peace to my soul. Both President and Sister Palmer cited my testimony in theirs (Sister Palmer even mentioning the time I showed up in flip flops to my first trainers' meeting). Thinking back on the mission leader who told me the spirit left when I bore my testimony in Zone Conference to this response today, I am amazed at what God has done. Afterwards, I did a personal study about baptism. It was revelatory; one of the best of my life. After asking a deep question about why baptism was chosen to be the ordinance by which we make a covenant with God, President Palmer had cited an inspiring scripture in Moses. After the meeting, I talked with him and said, "the scriptures often talk about the what; rarely talk about the how; but the why comes through revelation." We said the last part simultaneously. Today was another crazy busy day. From 6:30 on it was ward council, church services, coordination meetings, and member lessons. I now have a minute to finally write about my moving exchange with another elder recently. He and I had had an exchange previously in which he told me how his motive for being on a mission was to appease his parents and that he didn't actually believe the church is true—though he saw the doctrine as sound, he didn't feel it. Before the exchange, Elder Peña and I were lying in our beds. I said, "well, I went with this elder last time, I'm guessing I'm going with his companion this time?" There was a silence—something felt out of line. I could tell Elder Peña felt the same. I said, "actually, I'll go with him again this time." He said, "yea, I felt the same." I met with him and we had an interesting companionship study. I opened with a prayer and thanked God for being on missions and asked to understand him better. He didn't say amen. I asked him how he was and how he’d been feeling. "Not much has changed," he said. "Well," he added, "I've told my parents." "Oh, wow," I said surprised. "How did that go?" He said, "well, at first they just thought I didn't know enough about the doctrine. Then, I did a thing for a youth in the ward, and I showed them how I could move people to tears with words that I hate. Now they don’t know what to think." It was a somber feeling. He expressed to me how agency is the biggest lie in the church and how God insists that He knows the plan, and we are to just submit--don't think too hard. To him, God is a tyrannical dictator. He expects obedience and in return for obedience maybe we will receive joy. It's like the leader of the crazy group in Mad Max: Fury Road. I listened. It was deeply moving; it was dark. He lived such a depressing life. I told him I felt for him. If I held his beliefs, I too would act like he acted. I said, "David O. McKay says reverence is the essence of religion, and that religion is profound respect mingled with love. You don’t have that profound respect mingled with love for God or the church. No one shows you that love or respect in the way you like to receive it. That must be hard." I continued, "other missionaries have that reverence, so it's easier." He responded with some passion, "missionaries are the most irreverent people in the world! They can’t muster a single grain of reverence. I had a friend email me about how he was going through this Ugandan revolutionary war museum and the entire time these missionaries just goofed around—even the mission president. They just have no respect for those things." Often, people in the church do not respect the things this elder holds dear, thus creating an emotional separation. I felt for him. He has such a great mind and I loved many of the things he loved! I said, "you know Elder, I look up to you." That stopped him in his tracks. A rare smile peered from underneath a usually stony face. "Why," he asked, "why would you—. What?" I answered, "I love your mind! I love how you think critically. I love your love for detail and your reverence for the good others may overlook in the world. I really look up to your sense of humor and your wit; it's so cool. I really just appreciate you." Taken aback, he said, "well, thank you." We walked to a lesson and on the way I street contacted a few people. He despises this (and I would too if I was roping people awkwardly into something I believed brought mostly pain into my life). On our long walk back, we walked though a skinny, overgrown trail winding its way along a train track to our apartment. I asked, "so, you'd go home if it didn't take so much convincing of others, right?" "Yes," he replied. I said, "in all likelihood, you'll be here for the next 8 months." He agreed. I said, "well, while you’re here, what's your goal?" "Survive." he said. "That's been the goal for a long time now." I said, "well, why not make more of it? You have these eight months, so why not? Now, I know you've been told countless times before about finding out if the church is true and you've done those steps...how has it gone?" "I'm sick of the cycle," he said, "I've done it so many times. I get humbled, I pray, and nothing happens." I said, "I recognize that that's true. That must be so annoying then, to be told this over and over. So, will you do something new this time? Will you simply pray to feel God’s love? As much study as we do and knowledge that we may attain, we can justify and find loopholes in anything. The reason I believe, Elder, is only because of the spirit I've felt. No logic could prove it definitively." "The spirit is the convincing power. I agree with you and so many of your points! It's hard for me to feel it too sometimes. As I've prayed to feel it, it has come. Will you pray to want it?" He expressed concern about how that was a psychological trick to get you to believe, which I also think about sometimes in regard to meditation and such. The difference is the spirit. Seriously, it is the defining difference. I asked him how he felt about it. He said, "you know, it makes sense; it seems like the next logical move." I said, "I want you to know something, I have no interest in tricking you into anything or keeping you active in the church. Whether or not you stay in the church, I still want to be friends! In fact, anyone who thinks otherwise is not acting as Christ would." He told me earlier that he felt like God gave just one way and that's it; any other way leads to eternal hell fire. He said, "I'm damned. I'm a horrible member. As far as the church is concerned, I'm hell-bound." I said, "I can understand that feeling." Christ says something a little different, though. It took me a few minutes, but I found the scripture. "Nevertheless, ye shall not cast him out of your synagogues, or your places of worship, for unto such shall ye continue to minister; for ye know not but what they will return and repent, and come unto me with full purpose of heart, and I shall heal them." "Whenever you feel it, Elder, Christ is excited to heal you. As far as I'm concerned, your activity in the church has no impact on my appreciation of you. You're welcome whenever." He said "thank you." I could tell it touched him. "I love you Elder. Do you believe me?" He paused, then said, "yes. You don’t say it like most do; you seem genuine." At the end of the exchange, I prayed for him. I asked that he may feel God’s love and find happiness. I thanked God for his good character. At the end, he said amen. Though it was spiritually straining to be with someone who felt so numb, it was an incredible shift. It might have only been just a little bit, but it was worth it. Later we were at a big meeting and a missionary was bearing her testimony and said, "you wouldn't come out here unless you believed the church was true!" I looked over at this elder who was already turning to look at me. I smiled. He smiled. He had someone. That brought me so much joy. All I wanted as a young missionary was to not feel so alone. Today, we taught a lesson using sidewalk chalk and another lesson in which I used a Karl Sagan quote. We were driving by a group of kids playing Spikeball and one screamed, "Elder Whiteley!" We pulled over and played a few rounds with him and his friends. It was so great! I could stay here another year. That's what is so wonderful about the mission. You fall in love with the area, the companion, and the people. Everyone keeps asking, "how do you feel about home?" I'm happy to be so sad to leave. If I were happy to leave, I'd be sad! What a waste of time this would have been. I wouldn't have fallen in love with all of these fantastic people and places. Friends I'd sacrifice for—have sacrificed for—are bonded to the history of my life forever. Including J. She's 70 years old and struggles with her health, so she texted us and asked us how she could come to church. Per usual, we found her familiar street. We parked and walked up to her house: a small, part-trailer-part-building with a long, skinny yard. In the yard rest three pitbulls and two chihuahuas. We walked up to the fence; white paint peeling, with plastic and tin blocking the bottom to keep the chihuahuas contained. The dogs came rushing out. We said hi, they calmed down, and we made our way to the crabapple tree. We sat down, as we had done many times before. She had such a glow to her. Under the crabapple tree, we taught truth that brought the light of Christ as we were shaded from the heavy light of the sun. As I held her hand and walked her back to her home, I explained that I'm leaving for home on the fifth. "Would you mind moving your baptismal date up so I could be there?" "Oh, sure," she said. "How soon?" I told her only a few days. She agreed. On my last day as a missionary, I get to help someone make their first covenant with God. What a joy! When I picture her, she stands in her front yard watching her late daughter's grandson. This week, though tired and with her grandson, she still got herself to church. The entire congregation greeted her and she was so happy. In my testimony I talked about how we're asked to love everyone—not just for their sakes—but our own. Today I fasted in gratitude for my entire mission. Today was great. A year ago, Nebraska was the pivot point in my mission. It changed me. It took all this raw material of mistakes made and how I had adapted to mission life and helped me form myself into a cohesive mass for doing good far more effectively and charitably than I had previously been capable. Today I've just been serving others all day; I feel so full. If you ever feel empty...study, pray, then go out and forget yourself and serve. Nothing can replace it. The wastelands of this life—freeway-side trailer parks, apartments next to halfway housing, a crammed basement apartment in the Casper winter—have truly become a paradise to me. They are places of immense joy—joy beyond description. These places, these people, this purpose has brought me fulfillment, happiness, knowledge, and progression more than anything else. God truly has orchestrated this beautiful arrangement for this act in my life. As the dramatic emotions, companion relationships, people coming to God, missionaries finding their testimonies, members coming back to Christ, and finding myself in Christ, come to an end in this season of my life, we'll follow this storytelling rule my dad always told me: "leave ‘em wanting more." See you soon, dad.
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