I served a mission.

I have felt inadequate for far too long about my mission.  I want to get my feelings down so I can get them in order.  I want people to be able to see the struggle that it was to get to the point where I would serve and how without that, I wouldn't have the desire to do more now.

I did not have the advantage of a two-parent home.  Even when he was alive, my father was almost never home.  There are very few memories of him that I possess that are positive.  Then he died and my family was left without a leader.  My mom had to take on both roles.  God never intended the family to be a one-parent deal.

Boys need fathers.  They just do.  And the death of a parent has a devastating effect on a child.  I became an angry, angry child.  I was more than just a handful and I'm sorry for it.  Had I a dad, I would be different today.  But I didn't, and as a result of my poor choices during my upbringing, I feel like a bad person sometimes.

I had to work for my testimony.  I didn't get to sit in Family Home Evening every Monday night with a father and a mother with a designated lesson, prayer, treat, and game.  Instead, I'd watch as my brother would refuse to come up for dinner, I was completely uninterested in a church lesson from the Ensign, and I just couldn't wait to get back downstairs to play videogames.



My mom and sister would invite the missionaries over to try to get my brother and I interested in serving missions.  I met some good missionaries, and I met some really, really, really bad missionaries.  These bad ones were the men who didn't go because they wanted to go.  They were the ones who were coerced by the promise of marriage, college tuition, a new car, or people leaving them alone about serving a mission.

I hated Seminary when I was in 9th grade.  I hated it so bad.  I dropped out halfway through the year so I could learn geometry better.  But then in 10th grade, I decided to enroll in Seminary again.  It was hard.  I disagreed with things, I agreed with things, and I had weird ideas about things.  I had begun earning my testimony.  I chose to attend Seminary.  I didn't do it because I was expected to and I didn't do it because someone coerced me into it.  I decided that I was going to attend Seminary, and I did.

I remember at once point during Seminary I was handed a stack of talks regarding missionary work.  I distinctly remember all but one of the talks saying to go for marriage and women.  I only recall one saying to go for God.  I did not then and I do not now feel like the promise of marriage is the right reason to go on a mission.  I will not and I would not serve a mission just to get married.  That is a horrible reason and I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life than to waste God's time by serving a mission for the wrong reasons and by doing so with the wrong attitude and desire.  Extrinsic rewards are not the reason to serve a mission.

In my senior year, I was encouraged to attend BYU-Idaho by a Seminary teacher.  He said that it would be good for me to get out of Utah for a while, so I applied and went to BYU-Idaho.  My first set of roommates weren't the best.  But I also wasn't the best roommate myself.  One roommate was convinced that he was still a full-time missionary and felt it was his responsibility to pressure me into serving a mission.  I hated it.  I was angry.  I told him that I didn't want to go and that I never would go.  I didn't tell him about the anxiety because I didn't even recognize it myself.  But still, he was constantly trying to get me to go, and I would either patiently listen or I'd tell him to go away.

At the beginning of my third semester at BYU-Idaho, I suffered a massive anxiety attack.  As a result, I was pretty useless for about three months or so.  I just couldn't do it.  I couldn't get out there, I couldn't go back, I felt anxious, scared, and awkward.  I felt like a failure.  There is no doubt in my mind that this would have happened in the mission field, and I would have felt much, much worse as a result.

I had been told by bishops that my anxiety does excuse me from missionary service, but who honestly believes that?  I can tell you that very, very few church members believe that one is excused from missionary service for any reason.  In fact, I did research on it at BYU-Idaho.  My ex-girlfriend and her family certainly didn't believe that anxiety was a reason not to serve a mission.  It baffles me how otherwise intelligent people could be so ignorant of a common and manageable condition.  It's anxiety, not psychosis.  It's anxiety, not nymphomania or borderline personality disorder.  Anyhow, I've been told by bishops that I'm okay; that I might not have even been accepted for full-time missionary work due to the medical condition of anxiety.

After the anxiety attack at BYU-Idaho, I attended the University of Utah for two semesters.  This was a time when I realized how important the Gospel is to me.  I walked into a classroom to find a man dressed from head to toe in women's clothing, smiling as proud as can be.  In that same class, we were required to watch two rated-R movies, with no way to avoid that assignment (which is illegal, because there always has to be a way for a student to get out of an assignment if it is against his or her core beliefs or religious beliefs; it's an infringement on their rights).  It was then I decided that I needed to be in a place where I could grow spiritually.  Because I didn't know that USU was such a haven, I decided to go back to BYU-Idaho.

Every bishop I've had in college with the exception of one told me that the second I decided to serve a mission, they would expedite my papers to get me out as soon as possible.  I thanked them and told them that I was not going to serve a mission.  These bishops saw my testimony growing and saw my ability to teach and serve.  I did not see the same things that they saw.  I had thought that maybe, just maybe, I'd serve a service mission for one year after getting my bachelor's degree.

When I graduated from college in April of 2011, I found myself yet again anxious regarding a mission.  I found myself anxious in general.  I had no home.  I had nowhere to turn except for living in my mom's house with her husband, which was an unfamiliar place.  I contend that the Spirit is not and cannot be felt in that home.  It is such a contrast from the home where I grew up.  The house that my mom lives in now with her husband is a place of darkness.  The basement is the quintessential den of iniquity, with pornography, cigarettes, marijuana, and all manner of Spirit-deterring things.  The television is always, always on.  It is a place of noise.  The home I grew up in, however, was full of light.  My mom played music.  She kept it clean.  She would sing and enjoy herself.  But ever since she got married, she rarely listens to music, and I haven't heard her sing.

When I moved into that environment, I found myself enduring temptation.  Teamed with my anxiety regarding a mission, I decided to focus on finding a job.  I couldn't find a thing.  I wasted so much time searching for a job, when I could have been serving the Lord.  I'm sorry. Anxiety strikes again.

I hated my ward during that time.  It was terrible.  I got a reputation for being desperate and just wanting any girlfriend, all because I had asked out a whopping 5 women in the ward.  I was incredibly unhappy.  The last thing I wanted was to serve a mission while living with my mom and her husband in a place where I could not feel the spirit.

Finally, I landed a job and moved out.  I moved into my own apartment and it was wonderful.  I began to feel happier.  At this point, I was no longer mission-ready, but I was attending church and liking my ward.  My bishop was loving and forgiving toward me.  I was happy!  My apartment was filled with light, I kept the place clean, and I was able to enjoy the solitude.  I didn't always have the Spirit there, but I knew that I could have it there.

Finally, I was accepted to BYU for grad school, and I moved to Provo.

Provo was a terrible place for me.  I felt more anxiety there than I had in the past.  I was horribly depressed and I lamented my life and all of my decisions.  As I continued on my first semester in graduate school there, I found myself more and more unhappy.  Finally, I dropped out of my program before I could be kicked out by a department chair who was eager to remove me from the school.  When this happened, I realized that I had time between when school ended and the next fall, when I could attend graduate school.  I had a large sum of money from my previous job, and I felt like it was the right thing to do.  With the time, money, and motivation, I decided to go forth and serve a short-term church-service mission.

I served as soon as I possibly could.  My bishop signed off on me going to the temple and getting endowed, and so I took my recommend to my stake president.  I was on the cusp of being endowed and serving a mission.  It was a very exciting and nerve-wracking time.  I questioned if I was ready to be endowed.  Looking back, I definitely was ready.  But my stake president said no.  He'd rather see me get married, he said.  But what woman would want to marry me if I wasn't endowed and didn't serve a mission?  Women were already avoiding me based on those reasons, so how was I to be married?

I was still allowed to serve.  This bothers me.  If I was worthy to go forth as a representative of God, then shouldn't I be worthy to fulfill my potential as a son of God?  And why is it that everyone else just gets to decide that they're going to the temple, but I don't get to make that decision.  Instead, I do the right thing and I'm denied blessings.  I'm not denied blessings from God.  I'm denied my spiritual progress from men.  It is only men who stand in my way.  God does not now nor will he ever stand in my way of spiritual progress.

So I served my mission.  And ever since, I have felt two things.  The first thing I have felt is that my mission is not good enough.  The term "real mission" is thrown around.  Even a sister on my mission repeatedly said to me with hatred and contempt "you're not a real missionary."  What a heartbreaking thing to say to a man who is just trying to do his best.  A man who just wants to serve the Lord to the best of his ability.  A man who never, ever thought that he would go on a mission, and then when he does, he is told that he's not good enough.  And as a result of this, I feel almost ashamed to tell people about my mission, but I try to do so with pride.  I served a mission.  Screw what that sister and all the others think.

The second thing I have felt since my mission is that I am capable of serving a full-time two-year mission preaching the Gospel.  Well, I'm internally capable.  I'm actually too far along in life to be able to go forth and serve in the manner I would like.  My time has passed.  I wish that this feeling had come so many years ago because I could have gone out and served.  But when I was of age and in a position to do so, I did not have the right feelings and I did not have the right testimony.

I accomplished something by serving my mission.  I demonstrated to myself that I was capable of serving the Lord.  As a result, I am happy that I was able to do it.  I am also regretful that I did not serve in the manner of other men.  That I did not serve "a real mission," like so many say to me in a derogatory and hurtful way.  I am really, really sorry.  Lord, I am very sorry that I did not meet expectations.  I'm sorry that I have suffered anxiety and I'm sorry that I did not have the testimony that more righteous men than I had at the time.  I am really, really sorry.  I just want to be forgiven for my struggles and decisions.  I am really, truly sorry.

I'm sorry, women of the church, that I fail to meet your expectations.  I'm sorry that I'm not as knowledgeable as the other men.  I'm sorry that I'm not as good as they are.  I'm sorry that I've had problems in my life.  I contend that if I had a father, my life would be incredibly different.  But as it stands, I had to earn my testimony.  I had to foster the desire to serve a mission within me.  I have had to work hard to be in the spiritual position that I am today, and I am sorry that I am not perfect.  I only hope that you can be as forgiving to me as God has been.

-Closing Notes-

Job 6:8 has been a feeling of mine.   Job 6 describes my lamentation in regards to serving a mission.  It has been an internal struggle ever since I was as young as eight years old, when I tried to trade my two-year mission for a girl's 18-month mission.  It has been a struggle since 16 when I began to be heavily pressured to go.  It has been a struggle since 12 when I met so many bad missionaries.  And it has been a struggle every single time a girl turns me down and every time a girlfriend says "God told me no."  And I hurt every single time missionary work is mentioned in General Conference, and every time I see the smiling face of a missionary.

I have kept my faith.  I have kept it because I choose to do so.  It would be too easy for me to just decide that I don't want to be judged anymore.  It would be easy to walk away from it.  Well, it wouldn't be easy, but I could choose tomorrow to no longer follow God, but I don't.  I choose to follow God because I know that this is His true church and I know that He is there.  I intend to always hold firm my testimony.  It's what I want.  I want to keep church in my life.

The Sons of Mosiah rebelled against the church for a time.  But then they became strong and mighty in the Lord.  While I may not have rebelled against the church, I certainly was not clinging to the iron rod as a teenager.  But now I have a firm testimony of God and His church.

In Conference today, it was said "It's not where you serve, but how."  How did I serve?  Faithfully.  Diligently.  To the best of my ability.