Friday, September 12, 2014

Walking in His Shoes

Life would be a lot easier if I wasn't a missionary.

Usually I consider myself a pretty optimistic person.  Always finding something to laugh at or a reason to smile.  Being sure to always write about the good stuff that happens in the mission.  that's been going on for the past 10 months now.

I've decided it's time for a reality check.

The mission is not all fuzzy feelings, miracles, and baptisms.  I believe every RM and devoted fan of "The Best Two Years" would agree with me in that statement.  Far too often we tell those future missionaries, "Oh, the mission will be the best time of your life!  It will be hard, but so fantastic!"  Why don't we ever talk more about the hard parts?  Why don't we talk about the rejection?  Or mention all the tearful prayers in the bathroom so your companion doesn't hear?  How about those ward members that think your inadequate, or being stood up for appointments.  And then there are your investigators, who you've learned to love and worked so hard for, that tell you they don't want any more to deal with you.  Why do we avoid mentioning these moments?

Others then say, "The missionaries have such a great portion of the Spirit with them."  But forget to add how hard we have to wok to be worthy of that Spirit.  I have never before been so self-conscious of my sins.  Take away every little thing that could impede me from having the companionship of the Spirit.  It's exhausting.  "Should I have said something different?"  "Is it bad that I'm slightly enjoying overhearing the neighbors playing Bruno Mars "Treasure".  "I shouldn't talk so much to the members after church, we should go contact instead."  "Am I praying right?"  "Is this the right lesson to teach?"  The list goes on and on.  The call is to be a representative of Jesus Christ.  The only perfect being to ever walk the earth.  How easy it is to pose the question, "What more do I lack?"

And so, as I walk in the blistering sun, dust covering my aching feet as we walk away from the tenth "Soy catolica" of the day, don't be surprised when I say that often the thought comes into my mind, "Life would be a lot easier if I wasn't a missionary."  But let me tell you, that thought is always quickly followed by another.

"His life could have been a lot easier too." 

The Savior had a choice too.  He had is agency.  He could have chosen another life.  But He remembered His calling.  He was rejected, spit upon, laughed at, and scorned.  Let's not forget that at one point, after experiencing so much rejection, He even turned to His apostles and asked them if they would leave Him too.  And as for being worthy of the Spirit, His whole life mission depended on it.  Not one single mistake could He make.  

Yes, my life could be a lot easier if I wasn't on a mission.  It could be a lot easier to sit at home, eat cookies, and see what's new on Pintrest.  

The mission is hard, because His life was hard.  The only things we can expect from a mission are not soccer jerseys, foreign candy, and a second language.  If we plan on stepping in His shoes, picking up His calling, and slapping His name on our chest every morning we better also expect to experience a little of the emotional, physical, and spiritual turmoil that He had to experience.  It's not fun.  It's not easy.  But it's love.  Love for Him and what He did for you and every other person that has and will ever live.  

If I learned anything during my time in Jerusalem it's that Christ was a lot more human than we think He was.  He wasn't  perfect because He was naturally born that way.  He had a choice.  I have a choice.  There's a reason why we've chosen this path.  It's hard.  But it's also the best thing worth doing in this life.

"Behold this is my work and my glory, to bring to past the immortality and eternal life of man."


After 10 months my shoes finally quit on me.  They're really great and help me with my flat feet so I did my best to try and save them.  First I attempted krazy glue but that didn't work. Next step was the Plasti Loka that they use for patching up holes in the plumbing.  Thats what the green stuff is.  To avoid the apearance of gum on my shoe I decided to cover it up with good ole' sharpie.  Today we headed out and I was so sure that the Plasti loka would hold, but not five minutes of walking and it ripped open again.  It's hopeless.


  1. This is beautifully written, Eden. And I'm glad you shared. Now I know what Uncle Miles and I should be specifically praying for with our darling missionary nieces. I never served a mission so really have no concept of what it is like. But I tell you this. I sure am proud of you. Because that does sound hard, but you still go out there and you still find things to joke and laugh and smile about and you are still spreading the gospel. Love you to the moon and back!

  2. Whatever you do SAVE THOSE SHOES! They are a testimony in themselves and you will use them constantly as a visual aid in your seminary teaching moments. Even more than your black badge those shoes will speak for you before the LORD someday. Now you have an even better understanding of the "washing of the feet" that the LORD performed. Broken feet, broken heart, contrite spirit, all are offerings on the altar. Love you!

  3. What a great testimony, thanks for sharing Hermana Lance.