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 | Wednesday, Jan 5, 2011, at 08:01 AM The Great Escape Original Author(s): averagejoe MISSIONARIES - SECTION 6 -Guid- | ↑ |
| In October 2000 I started university. I was 16 at the time and the youngest student there. My chosen field of study was Social Science, I intended to specialise in political science, in the end Economics become my major and politics my minor. Before university I had never really encountered anything that made me seriously question the faith of my upbringing. I knew about a lot of crazy doctrines, but I just accepted them, what other choice did I have? I was the Bishops son, the one who was never in trouble, who never mis-behaved in classes and the one with the longest patriarchal blessing. I was destined to serve an honourable mission and become a leader amongst the saints.
One of my first classes was entitled “The Sociology of Sexuality”. The lecturer was a woman who openly discussed her masturbatory habits as an object lesson and the tutor was the first openly gay man I’d ever met. I did not enjoy the class. It created too many problems, firstly given my age my own sexuality was not entirely decided upon and secondly, we studied the Kinsey studies in depth and I had a hard time believing that sexual practices outside of the Salt Lake City prescribed norm could be sinful. I simply put these things on the shelf, along with many, many other things I learned during my studies. Three years passed and it came time to go on a mission. I wasn’t forced or pressured into going, it just seemed like the next stage. I was conditioned into thinking that a mission was the thing to do. I duly sent off the paperwork to church headquarters and got sent to Germany. Ironic as German was the only subject I ever failed at school. I was sent to the MTC in Provo in order to learn the language before being sent to Frankfurt. I hated the MTC it was horrible. The food made me ill and the culture and regime were oppressive, humourless and grey. My early mission days were fine. I had good companions whom I liked. My first area was friendly and the mission regime was laid back. We were expected to do a job, but there were, unlike most missions, no pharisaical rules to keep. After some time I was moved from my first area to Bonn. Bonn is a beautiful town and I enjoyed the younger university town atmosphere, however after only a few weeks I was emergency transferred out and to the mission office in Frankfurt. Bonn was important to my exit as it was where i first noticed historical whitewashing. One day an elder in my district handed me a copy of the ‘King Follet Discourse’ that had been sent to him by his grandfather. In that there is a paragraph about child gods. I thought it would be a great idea for language study to compare the German and English versions of the speech. However when I got the german version in the Joseph F. Smith book, ‘Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith’. I immediately noticed a curious omission, where the child gods paragraph should have been there was simply an asterix. The note at the bottom of the page said that this had been removed because it was a transcription error. For two years there has been a couple in the mission office who dealt with the mission finances, they were due to go home. The church had sent another older couple, but the man told the MP that if he were made do the finance job, he’d have a heart attack. On the phone the MP told me that since I had a degree in Economics and had worked in banks for years that I was the best match for the job. I had only been in Germany four months but I did not mind. Life in the office was good. I liked the other elders, the MP and I developed a good relationship. He liked to talk politics with me because he knew I’d disagree with him. Missions are all about ass kissing. I was never into that so I’d disagree and he actually appreciated that he could have an intelligent conversation with me. Running the mission finances was a big job. We had a budget of more than €1.5m every penny of which needed to be accounted for. During this time I became known as mission cook. I hate bad cooking and can cook well, so I used the office to practise my hobby. I cooked for between 6 and 8 missionaries every day. This will become more amazing later in the story. I was quite able to do all the tasks required of me. It was weird though, my mission which was supposed to be a great spiritual experience had become something like a 9-5 job, only with longer hours. Spirituality was really not a high priority. Sometimes the car elder and his companion got out and did missionary work. I always had too much work to do. I was enjoying it all until after a while I stopped being able to sleep. My sleep patterns went to hell. It was really bad I was getting only a few hours of sleep a night. I could not function properly during the day. About this time moves happened and all the office elders changed except me. One of the new elders was a self absorbed ignorant arsehole who thought he received personal revelation about everything. The personality clash between us was a catalyst for major mood swings. One minute I was happy and the next furiously angry. I slipped into a general depression and was referred to the newly assigned area psychiatrist. The church psychiatrist in Frankfurt dealt with missionaries all over europe usually by phone. His office was in the area office a 10 min drive away. On my first consultation he diagnosed me, based on previous experiences and family history as having Cyclothymia, although this quickly changed to BiPolar Mood Disorder, Type 1 (BP1). Around the same time it was suggested that the office elders make a better attempt at the more ‘spiritual’ side of missionary life. For most this meant going out to appointments at night but more importantly for me, more personal study. I had always felt that church history was a little disjointed and slightly incoherant. I considered this to be a failing of my own knowledge. I started to study church history including the journal of discourses. All the usual suspects were new to me, blood atonement and adam-god etc... At this same time the church psychiatrist decided that some CBT would be useful, especially until the medication kicked in. I had been prescribed Zoloft, which although slightly lifted my by this time extremely dark mood, also increase the severity of my manic upswings. When manic I studied with great speed and intensity, I was devouring the Journal of Discourses. In my CBT sessions I discussed many things relating to the church. For years I had disagreed with all the political statements the church issued. Having studied world welfare systems I knew that the church welfare system and the principles upon which it are founded were based on a model of right wing conservatism for which I had no support. Politics became the first point over which my doctor and I bonded. He was a life long democrat from a line of democratic politicians in Idaho. He started to relate his feelings as I did mine. When during one session I said as a result of existing beliefs and the new information I had discovered I no longer believed the church was true, his response was “neither do I”. He went on to explain that he knew the church was in no way divine from his mission days too, and that for years he had said very little and never interacted with his wards. As a psychiatrist and a liberal, he always felt uneasy and unwelcome. Sunstone magazine would call him and his wife, ‘border landers’. From this point on I have believed that for most mormonism is nothing but a facade for most people. Their final straw was the excommunication of the September six. Although in a bad way I was very grateful to have a friend in whom I could confide. He and his wife were in my ward and I began spending more and more time with them. We are still in contact and very much friends. Soon after this, things took a turn for the worse. L. Tom Perry announced a mission tour to start his stint as area president. His letter to the MP stated that he wished to examine mission finance records and to ensure that everything was in order. I had managed to make some major innovations to our systems, but having been in a deep depression I had fallen well behind in everything other than paying bills. I had spent many a day sleeping under my desk unable to move. To get ready for L. Tom I worked 18 hour days trying to get months of transactions to balance, trying to file receipts and the thousands of bits of paper that were strewn around the office. I worked myself into the ground to get things into some semblance of order. The sisters from the neighbouring area even came round to polish and hoover the place for me. This frenetic pace lasted several weeks, my condition continued to deteriorate, and by this time I was suicidal. I was now on the highest possible dose of Zoloft and on mood stabilisers. I felt like shit. There was huge hype about the apostle coming to visit. At his talk in the Frankfurt Stake centre I sat next to the doctor and his wife. Perry spoke about time management. Where was the spirituality in that? I leaned over and told the doctor that this sounded exactly like a corporate training session I had been to two years earlier with the bank I worked for. Perry even talked about productivity rates. The whole thing was a load of shit and I said so to the doctor. He and his wife agreed. L. Tom then proceeded to meet with the MP and his staff in the office. His questions were incoherent. He continually asked questions about mission finances, but they made no sense whatsoever. He was unaware of mission accounting software or any procedures and continually asked about punch cards. I’m sure they were obsolete by the late 50’s. There was no inspection of financial records, no detailed questions which made any sense. I was pissed off. I had worked myself into the ground whilst suicidally ill for this man, and it appeared that he was too senile to have any concept of what was going on. I met L. Tom Perry several times, and I am convinced that he has early to middle stage dementia which goes unreported to the general membership. Throughout my illness, I have to say that everyone was quite understanding. Whenever the APs got haughty about me sleeping during the day or refusing to go to events the MP always straightened them out for me. However on day whilst paying invoices I came across the invoice from the pharmacy. All the medication for missionaries in Europe came from this one little chemist’s shop next to Frankfurt’s West Centrum and I got a copy of the invoice with the items for my mission highlighted. I suddenly realised that I was on more medication than any other missionary in europe. Added to this I knew that I was to be moved in six weeks to become a ZL after ten months in the mission office. Talk about an inspired calling! I went to see the doctor and in my session I told him I’d had enough and that if he did not send me home after training my replacement over the next six weeks. Evidently he did not take my threat seriously. Something he has since apologised for. His reports to the MP had been increasingly vague, and we had become such good friends that I think it would have been too difficult for him to send me home. His wife was a huge critic of the church, she was forever biting her tongue, and one day, shortly before my departure gave me a copy of ‘No Man Knows My History’. It was moves night, I was moving anyway and so my packing was in no way suspicious. I was up later than anyone else, not surprising given the length of time I had lived in Frankfurt. Over the previous couple of weeks I had used the office internet, my credit cards and some investments that I sold to buy an aeroplane ticket to my never-mo grandmother’s home in America. I even bought a car on E-bay. The deception involved was huge. I had experienced missionary disappearances before. I knew the APs were sent to Frankfurt airport and the ZLs in Düsseldorf to the airport there. I therefore bought a ticket for a night train to Zürich. At 1am I got up very quietly dressed in full missionary attire I lifted my suitcase rather than use the wheels and placed it in the stairwell. I then sat down at the table and wrote a letter to the Oberbürgermeisterin of Frankfurt to register my departure from the country. I left the letter and closed the door behind me, my heart racing. I crept down the marble stairs and out the front door to the street. I then drove the mission car to the office, directly next to a major train station. I locked the car and placed the keys in the office letterbox. I then boarded the train. I was sitting in Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof crying over the decision I had taken. A decision I felt I had to take. I could not have been a ZL or enthuse my zone when I myself had no testimony. I boarded the night train to Zürich, I had a compartment to myself. I watched through the darkness as I left Frankfurt and travelled south. I went through the most southerly town in our mission with elders in it. I imagined them sleeping peacefully in their beds as I struggled with my own feelings, moods and the horrific side effects from the medication I was on. As I sat alone in the compartment I slipped off my name tag and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. That morning I reached Zürich Flughafen. I checked in for the flight, the man addressed me in German the whole time until he saw my passport. He apologised and said he had thought I was German. For a fleeting moment I wondered if this was a sign. I dismissed it and boarded the flight to Newark. I was in a terrible state I am surprised I was allowed to fly, but as I am told constantly I cover up very well. The stress and my situation combined and I collapsed in Minneapolis Airport but was allowed to fly. Whilst flying across the atlantic I used the airphone and called the doctor. He was crying, not for any gospel or related reason but because I was alive and safe and that he cared. I explained where I was and where I was going and why. He realised I had been cornered without much choice. When I landed I phoned my parents, my head spinning I told them where I was. I regret that my mission ended the way it did. I am glad that I learned about the fraudulent nature of the church. I just wish it could have been better timed, not on a mission and not during a nervous breakdown. I spent eight months in America before I came home to Scotland, eight months before I felt well enough to return home, but not to the church. |
| | Wednesday, Jan 5, 2011, at 08:02 AM Flight Risk Original Author(s): runtu MISSIONARIES - SECTION 6 -Guid- | ↑ |
| The other night I was reminded that, when I arrived in Bolivia, I had to surrender my passport to the mission president for "safekeeping" in the small safe in the mission office.
The safe was in my companion's office, and the passports were all there, sorted by country in alphabetical order and held together in stacks with rubber bands. The vast majority were the navy-blue American, but we had missionaries from such places as Chile, Mexico, Canada, New Zealand, Germany, and Zimbabwe. Once I began working in the office, I realized that the "safekeeping" reasoning was just an excuse. All it would have taken was a break-in after hours or someone to sneak in during office hours to steal all those passports (the safe door was often left ajar all day). In fact, one missionary did sneak in and retrieve his passport. His companion started having paranoid delusions, and when he couldn't get any help from the mission president, he just hopped on a plane and left. But in general, missionaries are not allowed to go home unless they have committed a grave sin. In such cases, at least in our mission, they were shipped off immediately, though sometimes a disciplinary council was held before they headed to the airport. Another reason for going home was physical or mental illness. During my tenure as travel secretary, I sent more than a few people home for health reasons ranging from typhoid to septic strep and meningitis. But going home voluntarily was another matter entirely. You couldn't just go home because you wanted to go. For one thing, you had to go to the mission office to get your passport, which meant that you had to meet with the mission president, who would do just about anything to convince you to stay. And of course, if you aren't honorably released, you have to pay the airfare home. One of my companions had what he called "a nervous breakdown," but I'd say it was serious depression and a sort of psychotic break (it's a long story, and one I don't care to revisit). He desperately wanted to go home, but the mission president believed his psychological symptoms were just an act so he could go home. Soon, my companion's mother, bishop, stake president, and young men's leader called him on the phone and told him how much he would regret leaving and how disappointed they would be in him. So, he stuck it out, somehow, but I'm convinced he was suffering from major depression the rest of his mission (he once told me, "I barely made it out alive). Another missionary arrived in Bolivia and informed the mission president that he didn't want to be there, was only there because his girlfriend wanted him to serve a mission, and by agreement with her, he was only going to stay 3 months. As the 3 months approached, our mission president tried everything he could to get this guy to stay. Because he was going of his own accord, I was told not to do any of his visa papers, which meant that he would be delayed at least 2-3 weeks to do the paperwork himself. Nothing worked, from delays to guilt trips to pleading, and the guy went home on his own dime. And this was for someone who hadn't wanted to be there from day one. In short, it's not easy to leave a mission. But I wonder, why do they make it so hard to go home? |
| | Thursday, Apr 21, 2011, at 09:17 AM Inspired Mission President And A Capable God. Not. Original Author(s): fishsticklama MISSIONARIES - SECTION 6 -Guid- | ↑ |
Mission: MP letter to me about training a missionary
"The Lord has entrusted a new missionary into your care to be trained properly in every aspect of missionary service. Invite the spirit into your companionship by praying together, observing mission rules and following the mission study program. Teach the importance of prophesying, praying, planning, and setting goals for your companionship to achieve. Be humble and prayerful. Seek the Lord's direction as you train him to find, teach, baptize and to love the people."Note the prophesying part. This was a specific reference towards prophecy in setting goals to find and baptize investigators. Each transfer we would set goals for investigators confirmed and baptized and goals for a weekly quota standard to meet. We were told that if we set really low goals, say 1 baptism 1 confirmation, it was a reflection of our faith and testimony. Mission average was 1 baptism per transfer or lower in decimal form. Every transfer my companionship would usually "feel" (which is the whole prophecy concept) to put around 4 or more for our goal. Sometimes numbers went as high as 8 or 9 depending on the potential investigators we were working with that had a lot of promise. We would pray and feel inspired and directed that the Lord wanted those numbers and were prepared to reach those goals. Not once did the Lord ever help us meet those goals. Every transfer we were short and the same could be said to most other missionaries in the mission. The one time we would have reached our goals was a pre-transfer planning session. We had been working with a family with 4 baptism dates, and 3 other investigators with a date and ready to be baptized. 7 baptisms ready for the next 3 weeks in the following transfer, 4 others that were headed there but not a gurantee in any respect. The Lord inspired the mission president to white wash our area, close the sisters area down on the island and move them to ours. That transfer all the talk was how miraculous the sisters were doing in that area and how they were going to have the most baptisms in a transfer there had yet been. Sure enough they baptized all of our investigators and racked up 8 or 9 baptisms. Zone conference came and the mission president praised the sister missionaries in front of everyone explaining how all those baptisms were a blessing for their hard efforts, humility and obedience. I saw my companion and he was incensed. He was speechless and beyond pissed off that we didn't get any credit for all of that. The next 4 or 5 months they were the talk of the mission and how amazing it was they got so many baptisms. The president talked about it in 1 or 2 newsletters given to all the missionaries in the mission each transfer. My companion was PISSED OFF at the MP and lost a lot of respect for him. I thought it was unfair, but got over it. A couple of transfers later, I found out that the mission president was really impressed with me when I got to the mission. He had high expectations and hopes for me. I was new to the mission and put in an area that was doing very poorly for some time. Our first transfer we had found and baptized 2 people and the next few transfers we had at least 1 baptism, which was more than the area had in the last year. Well, I became good friends with the another missionary on the island that was leaving soon and the mission president did not like him. That missionary had consistently been in trouble throughout his mission and was not on the good side of the MP. We would do companionship exchanges 1 a week and apparently someone spread a rumor that I would go swimming with him on the beach regularly and do other things against the rules. I noticed my second transfer in the MP would always grill me about rules I was breaking and I always told him none. He found out I went out to eat regularly with members at restaurants(against the rules) because my companion had confessed and he lectured me for 10 or 15 minutes about it. That's the only dirt he could confirm, but he knew I was lying. His hopes for me were dead. When he found out we had so many baptisms and potential baptisms for the following transfer, he felt inspired to white wash us out of there and put the sisters into our area. He must have felt I was too disobedient to be trusted with so much success. He was planning on having me train just a few months in to my mission but the rumors he heard about me ruined all that. The Lord not only failed to deliver every transfer of my mission, but he failed to inspire and help my mission president detect falsehoods and lies. I didn't care about leadership, but I did care that the Lord didn't correct this leader about the lies and didn't direct him to baptize the people I had a great friendship and love for. I also didn't care for the false attribution of success to the sister missionaries just because a missionary rumor had spread that I always went swimming at the beach and he didn't want the mission to think disobedience could still bring about success. 6 months into the mission my suspicions were confirmed that the Lord's anointed were not very inspired, even when they would be in the best position to receive it. I could forgive my many youth interviews with bishops unable to detect my lies, but not a mission president who was devoting 3 years of his life wholly to the cause of the kingdom of God. How could this be? I thought these kinds of leaders specially called would be blessed by the Lord to discern correctly. I began to see the church for what it was, man made and ran by.. men not god. |
| | Monday, May 2, 2011, at 07:50 AM Family Court Of Horrorsm Original Author(s): Lost MISSIONARIES - SECTION 6 -Guid- | ↑ |
| In another thread, MIB was talking about the pressure for young men in the LDS church to go on missions. I posted about my Family’s horrible reaction to my deciding to go into military service in that thread. MIB made a follow up comment that it’s important for people to grasp just how tough it is on young men, especially those that just not to go. I agree.
So I thought I’d share my story so that perhaps those lurking will appreciate just what kind of stuff goes down when a young man chooses not to go on a mission. For me, Lost, my misery started when I was 19 years old. I was held back a year and so I was a Senior in HS. All during that year, I constantly heard about the need to go on a mission. There was some concern about what Lost would do, because basically I was the ward loser. I had only achieved Star Scout Rank in Scouting, I had never been a leader or in any presidency. I was never much of a success at Scripture Chases and was just plain average. To be honest, I was a pretty ugly boy/man-child. So there was a lot of gossip, which my mother in particular did nothing to help. Just to illustrate how messed up she was, she thought nothing of bearing her testimony telling the ward that her son had a problem with bed wetting and that through prayers and the guidance of the holy spirit, this was resolved. Actually it was resolved when I outgrew it, but hey since when has truth ever mattered when it come to faith (self) promoting stories? It was, however; grossly embarrassing and never forgotten: I was the guy who had pissed his bed. Gee, thanks Mom. The bishop had droned on and on as had my parents about how I must go on a mission. I didn’t want to go to college; I needed a break from school. What I really wanted to do was travel the country and see things, but that was impossible. I didn’t have any money and zero support. I was going to go on a mission, except that nobody asked my opinion. Or more accurately, didn't listen to it because it wasn't what they wanted to hear. I had two fantastic uncles on my father’s side who were both military men. My one uncle, who I will call John (not his real name) was a SEAL. He was the one who I confided in, who taught me how to defend myself and basically listened to me. I have a lot of wonderful memories fishing, hunting for gators and just having a grand time with him. I'll always consider John my surrogate father, because he ACTED more like a father than my real father did. John did not believe the LDS church. He told me that he believed in God, but that ultimately once on earth, its up to us. God doesn’t interfere and you’re on your own. Later in life, I now really respect that opinion. John told me great stories about his military service and I wanted to serve as well. I knew I’d never be a SEAL, but I liked the idea of getting into physical shape, having a job and seeing the world. So I decided I wanted to go into the military. I really looked into it, so this wasn't an off the cuff decision. All holy hell broke loose. My family unloaded all manner of crap on me once I told them my decision. All kinds of threats, punishments, and tons and tons of verbal abuse we heaped upon me. If there was a name to describe me, I was called it. Interviews and whispers at church. I was blacklisted. I was shunned. I wasn’t allowed to date any good LDS girls. My girlfriend at the time broke up with me, because she would only date someone who, “ Wanted to marry in the temple.” I wanted this too, but since I wasn’t going on a mission, it wasn’t likely to happen. All manner of nasty whispers and viciousness occurred. Vandalism, etc. Unpleasant. You would have thought I was a murderer. During this mess, I became a man. I discovered deep inside myself steel that I didn’t know I had. I was going to decide what I would do with life and that was final. My uncles were both away serving, but their survival lessons really got me through it all. I simply hunkered down and weathered the storm. Despite all efforts, my family and ward couldn't break me or change my mind. They couldn't buy me off either. The bishop even offered to make me 1st Assistant to Priest's Quorum if I would just commit to going on a mission. Serious stuff for a 19 year old to deal with. But I knew what they were up to and wasn't buying it. In desperation, my parents turned toward the Bishop and Stake President claiming I had an evil spirit. I repeated over and over that I felt a mission wasn’t right for me. I wanted to serve my country. "What did I know?," the adults would say? "I’m only 19 and a fool." The military was full of drug addicts and sex maniacs. I was throwing my life away. Hmm. How could honorable service to my country be throwing my life away? I was getting experience in a trade. I was seeing the world while getting paid. At the end of my service if I didn’t stay in, there would be money for college. It was perfect for me, I felt. No, you fool—only a mission will do. But I would have none of it. Once my military service was over, if I wanted to go on a mission then, I could do so. At least I would have the money to pay my own way. Not acceptable. You will go at 19 on a mission, period. Mission calls are not granted to young men over 20. Finally, all the screaming and shouting culiminated with a command appearance before a GA. I won’t give his name for privacy reasons, but he was well known. He was pompous, arrogant, bombastic and a complete jerk. He kept calling me “son” trying these little power head games. I calmly and rationally told him that I felt going into military service was the proper thing in my life. He disagreed. I was disobeying the prophet. God would punish me if I went into military service. There would be a mighty battle (after all-Jesus second coming is right around the corner) and I would die horribly. He went on and on about the wounds I would suffer and how someone would castrate me! Un-frickin-believable. However, if I went on a mission I would be transformed. I would become handsome. (Gee Thanks, dude) I would baptize many many people. I would return from my mission and marry a beautiful daughter of Zion. She would be so beautiful that the heavens would weep. (I kid you not, he said this) He wanted to give me a speshulblessing right on the spot. I told him, “No-Thank you.” I appreciated what he had to say, but I had made my decision and I was sticking to it because it was the right thing for me. My family went ballistic aftwards as did my ward. I was shunned. My parents refused to talk to me. My sisters ignored me. My maternal grandparents ignored me. Gossip at church was flung high and low. School became hell. But they had seriously underestimated me. I was going to serve my country. Many more visits and interviews occurred. Many sad faces and head shakes. Finally my father threatened that if I went into the military that I would be unwelcome to return home. Fine, I said. “That is your choice.” No, he said. “It is your choice for choosing this wicked path and not following the advice or your parents and elders. “ “Your mother and I have failed, but sometimes there is nothing good parents can do.” Then he hit me and left. As I stood there bleeding I knew that I would never return to my parent’s house again once I left. Is this a Forever Family? Not a chance. Finally, it was my day to report for service. I was excited and nervous. Basic training was reported to be tough and my uncles had prepared me with pretty much what to expect. I had been working out and running a lot, so I felt prepared. Then came the last little hitch from my parents. They refused to drive me to the induction center. I had to walk the 30 miles on foot. I didn’t have cab money. So I started walking and fortunately a good Samaritan gave me a lift so I made it on time. Basic training was tough, but considering what my home life had been, it was a breeze. Then came mail call about 10 days into basic training. It was a letter from my family. I was certain they had finally accepted that I was serious about serving my country. Yep--Unfortunately for me. They had held a family court of love in absentia. I had been excommunicated from my family. Wow. My Family had all signed the letter (those that could sign it) and I cried. Even though life had been miserable growing up a mormon-they were family and I loved them. Now they were gone. I never saw them again to this day. (I saw them, but they acted as if I was dead) My squad mates in Basic Training were terrific and I had a lot of support. A Forever Family??? Only if you do exactly what you are told: Pay, Pray and Obey. Every young man MUST go on a mission. Otherwise, you may lose your family. Brought to you by your friends: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints |
| | Wednesday, May 25, 2011, at 10:58 AM Zone Leaders Tasked With Reading Missionary Mail Original Author(s): Dave J MISSIONARIES - SECTION 6 -Guid- | ↑ |
| I was in the Costa Rica San Jose Mission in 1987-88 where the Mission President, Mervyn B. Arnold set a private policy that the Zone Leaders are to open and read the mail of any missionary receiving mail from anyone of the opposite sex living within the mission boundaries.
I personally witnessed a missionary's mail being opened and read by a Zone Leader without the missionary's knowledge or consent. I was a District Leader reporting to that Zone Leader, and that Zone Leader was handing off the mail to me for the missionaries in my District. Before this, I did not know of the policy. When I saw the Zone Leader opening the mail, my jaw almost hit the floor. I asked him what he was doing. He said he was opening and reading the missionary's mail, because the letter was from someone of the opposite sex within the mission boundaries, which is against the rules. When I told him to stop, and I pointed out that it's illegal and an invasion of privacy to open and read other people's mail, he said it's the mission rules, and that I could follow up with the Mission President if I had a problem with it. I told him I would do that, so I immediately contacted the Assistants To The President (the AP's, they are senior to the Zone Leaders and report directly to the Mission President) to schedule a time when I can talk to the Mission President. I also informed the missionary in my district that his mail had been opened, and that he should talk to the Mission President to discuss why. I met with one of the Assistants to the President, who reiterated that it is the mission rule for all Zone Leaders to open, read and report all mail received from anyone of the opposite sex living within the mission boundaries. The Assistant to the President warned me not to make waves on this, implying that I was getting myself into trouble. I told him I will discuss it with the Mission President. Shortly thereafter, I received a call from the Mission President, Mervyn B. Arnold. I received an over-the-phone shout-down from him for at least half an hour, where he attacked me for 'stabbing my leaders in the back', 'backbiting' and 'going outside the chain of command'. He told me he was aware of the letter-opening, it is mission policy, it is his policy, and he praised the Zone Leader for doing what he was instructed, praised the AP's for supporting him, and attacked me for interfering with the inspired instruction of my leaders. When I again stated that the policy is illegal, he became hysterical and screamed things over the phone like 'Gods laws are greater than our laws!', and gave some example of speeding or some other traffic violation which would be OK if a General Authority felt inspired to ask it. He screamed that I was doing a great disservice to the Elders in my district because if there is any such mail in the future, they are much better off to have the Zone Leader screen it, rather than calling the missionary in to the Mission Office and making him open, read and explain the letter directly to the Mission President, which he said is the only alternative. Still screaming, he threatened to send me home, and/or transfer me to another mission, and/or demote me to Junior Companion, if I ever question my leaders again. Very shortly after this, I was removed from my District Leader position, and demoted to Junior Companion to the Zone Leader I had argued with in the Mail incident. Ostensibly this was because I proactively told the Zone Leader that there was a woman at church who I was having trouble dissuading from aggressively trying to flirt and making unwanted physical contact with me, and I had suggested that maybe it would be wise to transfer me out before she creates a problem (I was clear that nothing ever happened, I was just having trouble convincing her to back off). However the demotion to Junior and assignment to the same Zone Leader I argued with in the Mail incident (in a location still very nearby the female pursuer) seemed like an obvious reminder what this was really about. Some related items to be aware of: 1. The Costa Rica San Jose Mission (including Panama at that time) had various other rules which were also completely out of line, if not illegal, all on order from the Mission President including: a) The Office Elders confiscated the missionaries passports, visas, immigration cards and other related documentation and kept them in the mission office. Note: This resulted in my being arrested, hauled off the street and handcuffed in the back of a pickup truck, threatened and interrogated by the Panamanian Military in a windowless room, during the US standoff with the Noriega regime, which is one of the worst experiences in my life. When I wrote the Mission President detailing the arrest and requesting my documents, I received a similar shout-down and threats of being sent home. Later on, he had the Mission Office send me (and other missionaries) photocopies of our official travel documents, which is pointless because they are not accepted as valid anywhere. b) The Office Elders confiscated some missionaries checkbooks, credit cards and other financial instruments and kept them at the mission office, for missionaries who repeatedly violated the mission rule which restricted their budget to $185/mo in 1988 dollars. This was $65/mo less than the amounts we were told to budget in our initial Mission Calling papers (we were told we should expect to spend $250 a month), which did not mention any restriction of access to our own money. (Note, after the Mission Office made mandatory deductions for Book of Mormon fund, Bike Repair fund and Travel fund, the missionaries only had $160 for all other expenses for the month). The Mission President dictated it to be against the rules to cash any checks outside the Mission Office, and then only allowed the missionaries to cash 1 check per month through the Mission Office, and then declared it against the rules to receive any checks, money or even to pay to have your photos developed through the mail (ie. any cash flow going across mission borders... although some people just ignored this with regards to the photos). He also had his Finance Elder(s) track check numbers and amounts, and the Zone Leaders would report any incoming commercial parcels, to detect anyone in violation of the budget. Anyone in violation of the budget received repeated shout-downs and threats to be sent home, while various rumors circulated that violating the budget rule was the cause of some specific early returns. Note: I was transferred out of my position as Branch President and again threatened to be sent home, because I spent some of my own money to buy a Christmas Tree and Snacks for a Christmas party that I held in my branch. Only after my weight had dropped from 175 pounds down to 135 pounds (I'm over 6'3" tall) causing absolute panic in relatives who would not back down with the mission office, I was finally allowed an extra $25/mo for food during the last few months of my mission. (Remember folks, for less than $1 a day, you too can keep a missionary from starving to death...) c) The Office Elders returned-to-sender any care packages exceeding the mission limit of 2 packages per missionary per year. The Mission President eventually had to rescind his rule on this, as there were too many complaints from families to the Missionary Department in Salt Lake. 2. During my mission, Mervyn B. Arnold completed his Mission President assignment and was soon promoted to the Director of Training and Field Services of the LDS Mission Department in Salt Lake. (I discovered this when I finished my mission and then called the Mission Department in Salt Lake in order to report what I had experienced. Since Mervyn B. Arnold was now in charge from the Mission Department in Salt Lake, they simply forwarded me to his voice mail.) After that, Mervyn B. Arnold was promoted to the Second Quorum of the Seventy, and now he is a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy. Note: The Quorum of the Seventy are considered to be above criticism or question by the church members due to the Temple Covenants, where members raise their right arm and swear 'Before God and Angels' that they 'Shall not speak evil of the Lord's Annointed', which Mormons consider to be any questioning, criticism or accusations against The Prophet, his two Counselors, the Apostles, and the Seventy. That means for most members, Mervyn B. Arnold and his policies are now officially beyond reproach. The mail-opening incident, and related policies infringing on travel documents, financial instruments and packages, was back in 1987-88, and I have no idea how things went after that. However since Mervyn B. Arnold is now a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy, with previous Director level ties to the Training and Field Services the policies of the LDS Mission Department, I would suppose that his unquestionable policies are still in effect and probably greatly expanded, across a vast swath of the LDS hierarchy, including his original stomping grounds of the Costa Rica San Jose mission, of course. |
| | Wednesday, May 25, 2011, at 11:04 AM There's A Reason They Assign Missionaries A Companion Original Author(s): DataHavok MISSIONARIES - SECTION 6 -Guid- | ↑ |
| Snooping and tattling on non-conformists is reason #1.
What can a Mission President do with his non-conformist missionaries? He can make their life Hell for two years, and actually much longer than that: 1 - Verbally abusing them; Screaming, name calling and threats in public forums, private interviews, and over the phone, etc. 2 - Eliminating their privileges; Bye Bye Senior-companion, Leadership positions, having a mission car, permission to use the bus or taxi, dining out (ie. having a hot dog, a piece of pizza, a can of soda), preparation day hours, receiving care packages, receiving your developed-by-mail photos, forwarding your mail, having a companion who speaks English, getting 8 hours of sleep, etc. 3 - Confiscating financial instruments; Checkbooks, Credit cards (I'd say Passports, but that's already taken when you arrive...), etc. 4 - Giving an Area Transfer; Someplace with violent crime, riots, america-hating military forces pointing guns at them, arresting them. Someplace with rats, mosquitos, cockroaches, wild dogs in the street, no hot water, no clean drinking water, no phone, no transportation, no mail drop, etc. 5 - Sending them Stateside; Bringing an early end to their 'inspired' destination, creating huge self-doubt, sense of failure, and leaving folks at home wondering whether the missionary was undisciplined, home-sick, mentally or physically ill, or just too stupid to learn the language. 6 - Sending them Home Early; Cutting their mission short and send them back dishonored. Making their parents cry. Sending a damning release letter to their Stake President, ruining their reputation, their home life, their future church callings, their social life, their ability to date Mormon women. Wrecking their chances of LDS college admittance. Wrecking their marriage plans with their Must-Marry-An-RM-Brainwashed fiance. Easy to blame the victim if you've never been the victim. Easy to encourage resistance if you've never experienced the punishment for that. The reality is, if you resist in the mission, and if your Mission President is a control freak, thanks to the narc-on-your-comp system he has all the knowledge and position to tighten the screws until you surrender and/or until those two years and possibly some years after that are the worst hell of your life. For anyone considering allowing your kids on a mission, consider yourself warned. |
| | Tuesday, Nov 15, 2011, at 09:23 AM So I'm Traveling In China When I'm Asked Original Author(s): just a thought MISSIONARIES - SECTION 6 -Guid- | ↑ |
| So I'm traveling in China when I'm asked....
where did I learn to speak Chinese? So I'm give a brief background of how I spent two years in Taiwan as missionary for the mormon church. I take another sip of coffee and without going into detail, I say my religious beliefs have changed a lot since that time. Suddenly the air rushes out of the room. Someone mentions Jon Huntsman, there is an awkward silence and the conversation moves on to other subjects. I feel the sting of a slight loss of face. Just one second earlier, I was glowing in their appreciation of my attempts to speak their language. Now I am not sure if my audience is embarrassed by my apparent change of once deeply held religious beliefs or by my former association with mormonism, which as educated adults they recognized as a complete scam on a scale similar to scientology. Huntsman made mainland Chinese very aware of white people from Utah who can speak Chinese well. I think it was more of the latter. I can't help but feel a little humiliated and frustrated. I told the truth. I didn't pretend to be someone I wasn't. I could have lied and said I studied Mandarin in college. But then I would have had to lie about being from Utah. And why should I lie? Outside of Utah, there is something shameful about being mormon. After years of "recovery", why do I still feel shame about my identity? I couldn't help being born in Utah into a mormon family. There was enormous expectations for me to serve a mission. I didn't choose to go to Taiwan. I served prior to the internet and before many great books about real mormon history had been published. Besides, I wasn't the kind of nineteen year old kid that would have read those books and asked himself those kinds of questions anyway. I liked going to church. As a kid, it all seemed good. As an exmo adult, it all seems shameful. My identity is tied up with a religious order founded by a sexual scoundrel. My background involves a church that has clung onto it parasitic power and influence in state government. A church now trying to extend its influence into the federal and judicial level. It is a state theocracy with invasive control over it's members time, money and spirit. It's a evolved into a business order using the legal structure of a church in order to avoid paying taxes. And of its current leaders continue to hide the real church history and hold on to claims that require members to deny facts, science and common sense. It IS shameful. The whole thing is tied together by a history of scandal, violence and lies. The one action in my life that truly required integrity was to leave the damn organization. But that is all hard to explain to someone in a foreign language and culture 7000 miles away from Salt Lake City. |
| | Tuesday, Jan 3, 2012, at 08:06 AM The Difficulties Of Leaving A Mormon Mission Original Author(s): Formerly known as TBM MISSIONARIES - SECTION 6 -Guid- | ↑ |
| This title may be a little misleading. For me, it was not difficult at all emotionally to leave my mission because I knew it not to be true, and that leaving would have no consequences on my "eternal salvation". Instead, I'd like to talk a little bit about how I was forced to stay an extra month, and was heavily pressured by friends, family, MP, and comp to "stick it out".
I'll start with the beginning. About 7 weeks into the MTC, after studying the book of mormon, the bible, and praying constantly, I told my Branch President that I didn't believe it. I told him it wasn't too hard being in the MTC, because I wasn't really teaching anyone, but it was going to be hard once I got out of there. His response - "You'll believe it when you get down there". I didn't argue with it much, because even if I didn't believe it, I still wanted to see what this place was like. I'd never been out of the states and was called to the Dominican Republic. I wanted to experience things, learn some Spanish, eat some fruit, basically vacation. So I didn't say anything more about it and left the the DR. When I got there I thought I'd made the right decision. I loved the place. I grew up in Utah and always hated the cold, so this heat and humidity was amazing. I didn't have a hard time at all with the teaching because I couldn't understand much of what was being said. But after about a week I could understand most of what my companion was saying, and I couldn't take it anymore. I knew it wasn't true, and I was being forced to lie and tell people it was. And try and convince them to change their whole lives. I couldn't do it anymore. The first P-day there, I e-mailed the MP and told him I was going home. I sent this email before telling my comp anything of the sort. After we got back to our apartment, I told him, and he flipped out. I knew exactly why too. He was my trainer, if I went home, his reputation would be ruined. He had me call the MP right then, and set up an interview. When I got to this interview, I realized it was not going to be an easy process to get out of that country. The MP had me call my parents, and tell them what was going on. I talked to my mom, and she pulled the ole guilt trip, saying that if I came home I'd disappoint everyone who helped me, gave me money, etc. And that I would be exiled from the family. I think she was just scared. I then talked to my SP back at home. He told me basically the same thing, told me I'd be setting a bad example for my brother and sister, and that I was wasting the 19 years of my life leading up to this. (I asked him about what he meant by this when I got home, and he completely denied saying it) He told me he talked to the MP, and they were going to have me stay until the end of transfers, which was about 5 weeks from then. I told him I didn't want to, that it would be pointless. But that didn't seem to matter. At some point, about 3 weeks in, I had an interview with the MP where he tried to convince me that I had a serious transgression that I wasn't confessing, and that was causing my disbelief. I told him I had cleared everything up with my bishop prior to leaving, but he insisted that I still had something I hadn't confessed. He then had me recount every serious sin that I had told to my bishop. I thought this was a little excessive. After I had told him this, he had me call my parents again. As I was talking to my mom, he took the phone, and continued to tell my parents that I had not confessed all of these sins! Absurd! He then gave me back the phone and told me over and over again to tell my parents exactly what I had done. Even though it had already been cleared up. This upset me. The next 4 weeks consisted of constant fights between me and my companion. Mostly about him trying to convince me to stay, or telling me to leave because he couldn't handle it anymore. He was an extremely emotional guy. I am the opposite. Eventually it got to a point where I thought I was depressed, so I went to visit the Mental Health professionals from the church. This guy was awesome. He was a convert, and had only converted 6 years earlier because of his wife. He knew where I was coming from. He suggested to the MP that I be sent home immediately. (This was about 3 weeks in). Of course, the MP didn't pay attention to this, and still tried to convince me to stay. Please remember that the entire time I kept telling the MP to send me on the next plane home, but he wouldn't because it would inconvenience him, and that I would have to wait until transfers. Ridiculous. During the 4 weeks after I told my parents that I was coming home, I received countless emails and letters from friends and family trying to convince me to stay. Some even confessed that they didn't believe it while they were out too, but still stayed because that's what their parents wanted, and that they gained a testimony after a year or so out. Again, just trying to convince me to stay. The sort-of-girlfriend also sent some emails, mostly understanding, until the last one, where she stated that she was furious that I was coming home. When I got home, she had a boyfriend. ha. After 4 and a half weeks, I got in a huge fight with my companion, called the MP, and told him to send me home immediately, or I would be making my own arrangements to leave. He said he had a meeting a week later, and he would talk it over with higher authority then. I was pretty upset at this point. After 5 weeks, I couldn't take it anymore, and just left my companion and went to use internet at an internet cafe. (This was during our lunch break). He called the MP, and freaked out some more. Later that night, while we were on exchanges, I got a call from the MP saying that I would be leaving the next day. Finally! I was leaving! I got picked up by the APs that night, stayed the night there, and was home the next day. Apparently the MP didn't really have to "talk it over" once he realized that I was serious and no longer cared to follow his rules. Well, that's just a short account of my mission experience. I hope it gives you a little insight on what it's like to come home early from a Mormon mission. |