I don't want to preach at anyone, so I'm not going to.
Today some missionaries stopped me when I was walking home from the Trax stop after work. They were very polite and introduced themselves and then asked me if I was a student at the U (yes), if I went to church (yes, it's called The Mount and it's on 3900 South), if I knew anything about missionaries and the LDS church (yes, I actually have a few friends that are returned missionaries and we've had some lengthy discussions, and I know quite a bit at this point). Then they asked me if I wanted to have some missionaries come to my house to talk some more or if I knew anyone who "needed help" and would benefit from them and their teaching. I replied with something to the effect of, "No, not really. I really don't agree with a lot of what you believe in, and so I probably wouldn't send my friends to you." Upon reflection, that seems rather harsh. I didn't mean it to be, I just wanted them to know that I was in no way interested in being part of the LDS Church. Then they asked if there was anything they could do for me (no, thanks for asking), and then went on their way (have a good night!).
This isn't the first conversation I've had with missionaries and I'm sure it won't be the last. Part of the reason I kept it short was because it was cold outside, and part of me just didn't want to get into the whole ordeal of arguments and frustration and awkward fake politeness that occurs in this kind of situation. However, here's what I wish could have happened.
I wish I could have spoken to those boys (yes, they are boys, probably no older than 19-21) with God's love in my voice. I wish I would have invited them inside (even though that's generally not allowed) for hot cocoa and edamame. That we could have sat around my table enjoying the warmth and comfort of good food, drink, and company, and just for a moment, we could share life together.
I'll admit that I wouldn't want religion to feed very much into this conversation. I'd rather just talk about me and ask them questions about themselves. And honestly, if you're a follower of Jesus, that's going to show up in your character. You don't need a nametag to let people know, though some choose to do that, and that's fine for them. I wish we could have talked and I could have asked them about their lives and their histories and how that affected their beliefs. I wish I could have treated them like real people instead of an obstacle in my way.
Eventually, we would get to the topic of religion, and inevitably, I would tell them that I'm angry at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, their church, for a number of reasons. I wouldn't go into great detail, because they've heard it all before. But I would tell them that many friends of mine have been burned by the Mormon Church. I, personally, have been burned by the Mormon Church. The way that it dominates and dictates the way the culture operates in an entire state is horrendous, but I know it's not their fault. I would add that I have certain problems with the authenticity of Joseph Smith's claims and the validity of the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, Pearl of Great Price, etc, but that those issues were extremely time-consuming and now was not the time.
I would ask them about how their mission was going, how long they had been serving, how long they'd been companions, things like that. I would ask them if they were tired. Not sleepy, not exhausted, not bored, but heart and soul tired. I would tell them that I know the feeling of being soul tired. I know it well. I would tell them that even though it wasn't for as long, I served a similar mission at Lake Tahoe called Summer Project through Campus Crusade. That I understand all the work, courage, and disappointment involved in sharing the gospel (I don't agree with the entirety of the gospel they share, but each of us has our own idea of what our gospel is).
I would tell them that I am saddened by people in Utah who think that the Mormon Church is all their is (this isn't to say that this is the commonly shared view point in Utah, it is just one of the many). I would tell them that I wish Utahns, and for that matter, anyone who has grown up in the Mormon Church or any conservative church, that I wish they could see Jesus without religion. Christianity with no strings attached. They might give me puzzled looks or knowing looks, I don't know, but either way, I know the subject would soon arise of what I believe. And this is what I would tell them:
Love God.
Love others.
I would add that if you believe that Jesus died on the cross for you, "if you confess with your mouth and believe in your heart," then you're saved. And that's all. Of course that's not all, and yet it is. If you seek first the kingdom of God, then all else will enter, and things will fall into place. I would go on to explain something really important that Donald Miller taught me through his beautifully written novel "Blue Like Jazz." Not only do you need to love God and love others, but you need to learn to accept God's love and others' love.
Everybody has one of those friends who, when you say "you look really nice today," they come back with, "yeah right," or "whatever, I look terrible," or "shut up." Or when you try to buy them lunch or give them something they say "no, I'll feel bad!" Just take the damn compliment, or present or lunch or whatever it is I'm trying to give you! I'm not trying to "heap burning coals on your head." I'm trying to love you! Just let me! Or at least, that's what I wish I've said a million times. Anyway, I would tell these missionaries, that in the same way, if we can't let ourselves be loved by God, we can never truly open ourselves up to him and everything he has to offer us, and we can never love with his kind of love. Likewise, if we cannot let ourselves accept love from others, we put up a wall in our relationship and inhibit our ability to break bread together and share life.
At this point, I would look these missionaries in the eye and say something to the effect of this: "I truly hope that you two can experience Jesus without religion, whether it's through hiking in the wilderness enjoying nature, reading your scriptures and having a profound sense of knowing God, helping someone be able to eat in a soup kitchen, or just enjoying the scent the rain leaves behind. I hope your are happy. If what you believe right now satisfies the craving in your heart, how wonderful! If so, I am happy for you. However, if you're not satisfied, I encourage you to keep looking, because I promise you, if you look long enough, you will find what you are looking for. God loves you a great deal and wants you to find him your own way, whatever that may be."
At this point, I imagine the hot cocoa would have grown cold or be gone, and we would be finishing up the last few shells of edamame. The missionaries would look at each other, adjust their jackets, and get ready to leave. I would shake hands with each of them again, and look into their eyes and sincerely thank them for coming over to talk. As we said goodbye, I would wish them a good evening, and tell them to come back anytime they wanted, knowing I would probably never see them again. However, I would be satisfied with the sense that I left nothing unsaid.
That's how I wish the conversation went. But it didn't. There's always next time.
I guess that ended up being a little more preachy than I meant, but it is what it is.
Peace.
