My Mission - Leaving the LDS Church (Part 02)

The MTC was pretty much what I expected. A complex, similar to what I imagine a small university would be like; where you follow strict rules, learn the lessons you are going to be teaching potential investigators, grow your testimony and eat food that gives you the worst stomach ache imaginable.

Seriously, I don’t know what they put in their food there, but it kills your stomach. I’ve never been in as much pain, before or since, than what I felt twenty minutes after eating the MTC’s food. I dreaded eating lunch, because of the inevitable pain that was to follow. It didn’t help my companion either, who had IBS and had to stop to “play statue” every few minutes.

Elder Ebeglin (or something like that) was his name; A portly fellow with a distinct laugh. He was a really cool guy. I liked him. He was (probably still is) a semi-pro paint baller who loathed potatoes, because he was from Idaho and was sick of them.

So after the long 2 or 3 weeks the group of us, set to serve in Sacramento, California, loaded into a van and traveled to the Salt Lake International Airport, where my Mom and 2 brothers surprised me with a small farewell. It was a nice moment to say one last goodbye, for what was supposed to be 2 years.

Flying into Sacramento is 100% different than flying into Los Angeles. In LA, it’s just buildings and freeways for miles. You might see a park if you’re lucky. Surrounding the Sacramento Airport is nothing but green fields as far as the eye can see, in the distance is downtown Sacramento and behind that are the snow capped peaks of the Sierra Nevada’s. It’s a beautiful area and I highly recommend driving past it on the way to San Francisco.

I’m joking. Sacramento is a beautiful place. The downtown area has a similar vibe to downtown Salt Lake. On the banks of the Sacramento River is Old Sac. A pretty cool, old western touristy spot and there’s the old Sutter’s Fort as well, which has its perks. Other than that, it’s your average small-medium sized city, with a Hard Rock Café and other things that Missionaries aren’t allowed to partake in.

photo from Rigley Realty Group

After stepping off of the plane, the group of us grabbed our luggage and made our way to the escalators. At the bottom was a group of kids and an old man, dressed in suites that didn’t fit very well. I can’t be one to judge, I have yet to meet a missionary that fits his suit, myself included. It’s always too big or too small, depending on how long they’ve been serving. I blame the guys at Mr. Mac and myself for listening to their recommendations.

The old man stepped forward and introduced himself as President Huff, our mission president for the time being. He ran a tight ship. Everything about us had to be completely conservative; no flashy ties and a part in our hair big enough to land a 747. President Huff was a retired lawyer and apparently a member of the Quorum of the 70. So basically he was a big dog and he made us very aware of it.

I immediately knew that I was going to have a difficult time respecting this retired lawyer with an ego complex. The very first words out of his mouth were, “Welcome to Sacramento gentleman. Look over there,” he turned and pointed to an attractive young woman, dressed in flip flops, jean shorts, a yellow tank top over a black bra, looking over a magazine stand. It sounds like I’m describing a normal human being doesn’t it. “That right there is the enemy.” He said turning back with a subtle grin as every single missionary, except for me, condoned with a laugh. I glanced around just to see if I was actually alone, in my disagreement with this statement and sadly, I was.

He continued speaking for a short time afterwards, but I had tuned him out. I continued to look at this woman, this daughter of God, trying to figure out what he could possibly mean by her “being the enemy.” I know why he said it now, he’s a misogynistic ass hole, but that wasn’t the point.

After he ordered the group to follow him, I made my way over to this woman, determined to prove this prick incorrect. You might think that I’m being too harsh, dramatic, rebellious or just plain disrespectful about this leader, appointed by God, but stick around and you’ll see.

I tapped her on the shoulder, “Excuse me.” She turned and quickly responded that she wasn’t interested.

“I don’t blame you.” I said. This must have intrigued her, because she turned around again and let out a little smile. “I only have one question.”

“Yes I found Jesus.” She quipped.

I laughed and pointed to President Huff, who had halted the group and was staring at us now. “Do you know that elderly man over there?” I asked.

“No. Why?” She was understandably confused.

“He told us that you were the enemy and I was a little confused by that.” The mixed look of confusion and being offended is a difficult look to describe, but I continued “You see, I don’t agree with him at all.” I said with a raised volume, aimed in his direction, “I think you are a beautiful human being, whom I would love to get to know, so hopefully I knock on your door and you actually answer. If not I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

She, confused but politely, thanked me and we shook hands. I rejoined the group, to a clearly irritated mission president and we followed him out. I gave one last look, over my shoulder, to the woman, who was now giving the biggest hug to a recently returning army veteran.

We loaded in to two vans. President Huff rode in the leading van and I, having been asked by the Zone Leaders, rode in the trailing van. We took the freeway through downtown Sacramento and into a very nice suburb, where we joined President Huff’s wife and son for a quick welcoming and one on one interviews.

I hung out in the backyard waiting for my turn with the Mission President. When Mrs. Huff let me know it was time, I walked over and stepped into his office. He put on a pleasing smile and shut the door behind me. We sat at his desk and he asked me to pull my chair next to him, so I did.

“What was your intention today at the airport?” He asked.

“I could ask you the same question.” I responded. Clearly agitating him some more. One thing I’ve learned, is when somebody is used to being in control or dominating others and you show them they aren’t, they lose their patience very quickly. Since he was a lawyer, he lasted a little longer and didn’t quite break his composure.

“Attractive women are a distraction to young men. I said it as a way to relax you boys and remind you to remain focused.” He said through a gritted smile.

“And you thought calling a child of God the enemy was the best way to do that?” At this point his jaw became clenched and his face became a little red. “I thought Satan was.”

I remember him trying to explain himself for a brief moment then quickly changing his strategy. He went for more of an intimidation tactic.

“If you have a problem with the way I do things, bring it up to me in private not in a public display of rebellion. Obey my requests or I will send you home without a moment’s hesitation.”

Obey. Like I was a dog or something. I had just got there and I still wanted to prove to myself and to God that I could do this, so I took this threat very seriously. I muttered out a “Will do.”

We spoke a little longer, mostly him asking about my past transgressions and what sins I was dealing with. I don’t remember the exact details. I actually don’t remember most of that first day. I remember day 2 sitting in a church, listening to President Huff give a speech about what a great work we are doing and him calling out our new companions, like he was the sorting hat from Hogwarts.

I was introduced to my first companion, Elder Welker from Texas. I don’t remember much about him, except that he drove me absolutely insane. He was extremely lazy and always walked around in just his garments. Gross. “I don’t want to see that, put on some gym shorts or something.” I would say several times throughout my first transfer.

Photo from lds.org

My first area of service was in Florin and Elk Grove, before being transferred to East Sac. I enjoyed my mission for the most part. I had some really cool roommates and some not so cool ones. The weather was amazing, except for the monsoon like rains that hit us in November/December. It was weird having a Christmas and Thanksgiving without some snow, but I enjoyed it.

I was able to meet some really amazing people during my time in Sac-town, but I was constantly being reprimanded for my actions. I could laundry list them, but that would get annoying. So I’ll share the highlights.

In Florin there’s a street called “Young Street”. At the time it was one of the worst streets in the Sacramento area, full of drug dealers, gangsters, you name it. “Not a place for a white boy.” One of the residents would soon tell me. Well my first trip to through that street, I didn’t know that and I was heckled by a kid hanging out on the porch. I stopped to talk to him; my companion was not comfortable with it and urged me to keep following.

Long story short, I made friends with most of the people living on that street and when somebody, who didn’t live there, wanted to start some trouble with us the entire street had our back. It was a cool feeling and an interesting event. None of them wanted a book or to learn about the church, but they did enjoy talking with the white boy from Utah who let them know that they still had a future, even if it didn’t seem like it at the present time. When word of this got back to the District and Zone leaders, I got in trouble for wasting time, not teaching a lesson and not trying to convert them.

Another time we were in a church for some meeting and the Bishop’s daughter was chatting with a group us. When she had to leave, I shook her hand and she did one of those two hands over my one, type of shakes. My companion acted like it was a huge deal, because apparently that was the “missionary hug” and he never got one of those from her. Yes, she was very cute, but the way he was acting about it was ridiculous. So I asked her if that’s what it was and she said “yes,” so I gave her a normal hug. I’ve always been a hugger and it’s never been anything more than just a hug for me. It even has health benefits like releasing endorphins, creating a feeling of respect or love, it’s also a way to say hello in many cultures... Anyway, I was scolded and told that I’m “not allowed to hug members of the opposite sex.”

When I asked “why,” I was given the most idiotic answer I’ve ever heard. “Hugs give off a sexual feeling and missionaries aren’t allowed to experience those emotions.” My response was along the lines of “Maybe if you’re an immature adolescent they do.” I tried to explain to President Huff there was no ulterior motive to my hugs and of course he didn’t care, I wasn’t allowed to hug females… but males are just fine, because… reasons. These were just some of many confrontations I had with President Huff.

Every few weeks we could have special one on one time to ask him anything. I thought this was going to be a special opportunity to learn from an elite member of the church. Well I was wrong.

Every morning or evening, depending on the day’s schedule, missionaries are granted personal study time. I had delved deep into the Bible and Book of Mormon and had quite a few questions, so when the opportunity arose to gain some clarification, I was grateful and a little excited.

My first legit question was, “The wedding that Jesus is in attendance for; is that his wedding for his marriage to Mary Magdalene?” He let out a breath and it seemed like he didn’t want to answer me at first, for some reason. I reassured him it was for my own personal knowledge and not something I would be teaching prospects. His answer was the most information I would ever receive in these meetings with him. “The church doesn’t have an official stance on this matter and I don’t want you to focus on it anymore.”

To which I responded, “Then what’s your opinion on it?”

“It’s possible.” It wasn’t much, but it was more than the rest.

For anything else I was curious about, I would get the exact same response of, “When you’re mature enough or ready to know, then I’ll tell you.” That was the most infuriating response I could ever receive. If I wasn’t ready to know, then I wouldn’t have asked.

I asked about Noah’s flood and how it was possible. “When you’re ready to know, then I’ll tell you.”

I asked why God changed his mind about black people after apparently cursing them. “When you’re mature enough or ready to know, then I’ll tell you.”

If God loves all of his children, why would he only allow one particular group (religion) into heaven? – “When you’re ready to know, then I’ll tell you.”

These questions spanned over several meetings with President Huff, but they all ended up the same way, me getting frustrated and stating that I didn’t have any more questions and walking out. I eventually got fed up enough that I decided to have some fun. In one of my last meetings with him I asked where Dinosaurs fit into God’s plan.

This one he finally switched up. He started out with the usual “God has his reasons for doing things.”

“Which is?”

“If you really want to know, then you need to pray and find out.”

“Let’s say I did that.”

“Then what was your answer?”

“To ask you.”

This witty banter went back and forth for a couple minutes, before I finally said, “If you don’t know, then just say so. I’d have more respect for you if you did.”

“I don’t need your respect.” Was his answer. All my respect vanished and I stood up and immediately walked out the door. I got in trouble for that as well. "Leaving without being excused."

That night, while my companion slept, I prayed asking for help. I needed any kind of answer and nothing came, so in the morning I decided that I was done serving a mission.

The next meeting I pulled him aside and told him I wanted to go home. We discussed why and he let me have his honest opinion of me. It was a very sad moment and I even broke down crying. I felt like a failure, but worse, I felt like everything about this church was a lie. I asked him if I could call my mom. I needed a trustworthy person to talk to. Nothing was making sense. He denied my request and sent in my companion to comfort me... I think it was more of a way for him to be out of my presence and to pass the buck.

The next day he offered me one last option. To see a professional counselor and work out whatever it was that was bothering me. I agreed to do so and he made another condition; if the counselor recommends or prescribes any medication I must take it or be sent home. I can’t even deny taking the medication.

Photo from www.nomorestrangers.org

I agreed to do so and the family we were staying with drove me down to Stockton to meet with the counselor. It was a pretty short meeting, but I felt like it didn’t matter what I said, he was going to prescribe something either way.

Now if any of you know me well enough, you know that I loathe medication and doctors. Taking a poison to mask the problem doesn’t fix the problem, it makes it worse. So when I was prescribed Zoloft, since I had “anxiety” issues, I had my reservations. Especially since Zoloft is an anti-depressant that has led to the deaths of a lot of kids and teens.

The first time I took the pill was the worst day ever. Everything became numb and I slowed way down. My reaction time was delayed, I had tunnel vision and I had absolutely zero motivation. I just kind of existed with no real purpose in a meat suit. So I immediately stopped taking the pills and then did what I knew would help, I called my mom. Talking to her helped out enough that I could focus again and was happy to get the Lord’s work back on track. Super-mom to rescue once again!

Shortly after that, President Huff found out that I had stopped taking my medication and called me up, reminding me of our deal. We argued back and forth, but eventually I gave up. If he wanted me to take the medication I would. That evening, I took the remaining contents of the pill bottle and when I closed my eyes, I didn’t expect to wake up the next morning.

When I did, however, it was to my body having chills and the shakes. We went through the usual morning routine and later began knocking doors. Even in the direct sunlight with the temperature being in the mid-high 80’s I was still shaking like I was freezing. My companion called up the District Leader, who called the Zone Leaders who then called President Huff and I told him what happened. The next day he called to tell me I was going home, because I was too much of a liability.

On March 18, 2008 I returned home and began the third part of my journey.