My Mission Experience
I can still remember sitting in my second grade desk, and at the request of my teacher pondering where I would go if I could go any where in the world. After much thought I thought of the perfect place. I pulled the plastic cover off my newly purchased Corolla water paints, and began to paint what I thought was the best thing since the Mona Lisa. Me standing on a beach in Kobe Japan. Gripped tightly in my hand was a copy of the Book of Mormon, and resting on the pocket of my freshly pressed white dress shirt was a black name tag which read the name Elder Barton. With my tiny hands and some of my face covered in water color, I went home to present my beautiful piece of art work to my father.
I can not remember my fathers exact response. But, I would imagine as he looked at the picture of his son dressed in missionary apparel and standing in the place where he served his mission, he was very touched. Due to the example of my father and many other great priesthood leaders that I have had growing up, a mission has always been something that I have wanted to do. I don’t know that I fully understood the spiritual side of a mission, but I was always very attracted to the adventure. I was so excited when I received my mission call! I had never been to the east coast before, and my mouth had never uttered a single word of Mandarin Chinese my whole entire life. This was the adventure that I looked forward to my whole entire life, and I did not want to waste a single moment of it.
The first day that I entered the MTC, the importance and seriousness of my calling as a missionary hit me pretty hard. I will never forget the first time singing called to serve with a bunch of well dressed young adults preparing to take the gospel to different places in the world. After which the MTC president got up and delivered a beautiful welcoming speech. All though I can not remember every word that he said, I can remember the feelings that I had. My stomach tied into a knot. I felt like an apple was lodged into my throat as I realized the great responsibility associated with my call to spread the gospel. This feeling of anxiety was magnified by a million the first time that I attended a Mandarin Chinese lesson. Everyone in my MTC district had Chinese experience. They were all capable of holding a basic conversation. I felt very discouraged as I compared myself to the other individuals in my district.
I will never forget after my first week in the MTC, laying down in my bed staring at the mattress of my companion laying in the bed above me. Thoughts of inadequacy and doubt began to hit me pretty hard. I began to feel that maybe this calling to speak Mandarin Chinese and be a missionary was all just a big mistake. Not knowing where else to turn, I rolled out of my bed and fell onto my knees. I offered the longest and most sincere prayer that I have ever said my whole entire life. I told Heavenly Father everything, that was on my mind. By the time I finished praying, it had been almost a half of hour. I kept waiting for this administering of angels, or thunderous voice to answer my questions and tell me that everything is all right, but nothing came. I got up from my knees and got into bed feeling some what confused. As I laid in my bed again, my thoughts began to wander. I came to the conclusion that there was something I was doing wrong, or everything I was assuming was correct. These thoughts were quickly interrupted by the most intense feeling of peace that I have ever experienced my whole entire life. It almost seemed to speak to me as a voice telling me that everything was going to be ok, and I was right in the place that I was supposed to be.
After that the MTC became an amazing place. My Chinese did not come easy, but after much hard work, it slowly began to come. I continued to have small glimpses of what the Chinese language was all about. I continued to pray harder than I had ever prayed my whole entire life. I never had the feeling that my trials where completely taken away from me, but I did feel guidance and strength from Heavenly Father has I continued to push forward. By the time that I left the MTC I was no longer the worst in my class. I was not the best, but I passed up several in my class. Even though looking back it was very hard, I am so grateful for the preparation that gave me to enter into the mission field.
My first day in the mission field is another one that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I came off that plane so ready to do missionary work. For some reason I was led to believe that after 3 short months of training, I was ready to take on anything. I thought that I knew every aspect of the gospel like the back of my hand. I remember telling my parents at the air port that my Chinese was good enough to hold a basic conversation, and teach principles of the gospel. Boy was I in for a huge surprise! I will never forget making my first street contacting approach, and being blown away by the language that came out of the mouth of the person I was talking with. I felt like for the last three months in the MTC I had been learning the wrong language.
There was one morning, me and my companion decided to go out to the track and do some running. As I was just finishing my last lap, I saw a man walking across the center of the field. He had large wooden stick draped across his shoulders. On each end of the stick swayed a huge bag of trash. He struggled to walk because of the immense pressure on his shoulders. I remember wanting to help him so bad, but I feared that I would not be able to communicate with him. By the time that I went to go ask my companion, he was already gone. I felt that same feeling every time that we went outside. Even though I could not visually see a burden resting on their shoulders, I could see it in the way that they carried themselves, and I still can to this day. They walked very slowly, head down, and arms like two dead fish flopping to the rhythm of their step. I could see the pressures of their new life in America weighing down on them heavily. I wanted so bad to bear a great testimony of the atonement of Jesus Christ, but was not able. I was very frustrated.
Through more sincere prayer and hard work, I slowly improved. I remember one day having a man stop to talk with me on the street. As we spoke, I remember not thinking anything of it at first. I felt like I was having a normal conversation. By the time that he walked away, it had been over 30 minutes. He gave me his phone number, and said he would love to come meet with us in the future. A few minutes after he walked away, it hit me that I was just speaking Chinese. I was so happy! I finally felt like I did something effective as a missionary.
Just as things began to feel like things were starting to settle down, transfers came. I had been in china town for merely 3 cycles, so I assumed I was in no danger of being transferred. I was under the impression that my companion would most definitely leave, and I would stay and enjoy the great success of that was soon to come from our teaching pool. The call came when I was in the middle of teaching English class. I answered standing in front of the whole class. My zone leader busted up laughing as he said, “Elder Barton, I am so glad that you answered the phone.” I was very confused by his comment. He then went on to say that I would be transferred to Danbury Connecticut. I literally froze. I was not able to speak! After giving the phone to my companion, I tried to explain to English class what had just happened. My already broken Chinese, turned into a mix of stuttering and cooing sounds. The English class busted into laughter, and another missionary came to replace me. I had heard many stories about missionaries loosing their Chinese in the English program and feared what would happen to the little Chinese that I had worked so hard to obtain.
My first few weeks in Danbury Connecticut were some of the hardest I have ever been through. My companion had been in the area for a long time, and was very sick of it. I felt like I was dragging him around with me all day. There were times when he would sit in the car and watch me street contact. Every time that a lunch break was over, it was a battle to get him to leave the apartment. We would spend long days tracting, and have two or three people open the door. They did not let us in, but they opened the door. I slowly began to understand why my companion was having such a hard time being there for so long. I wanted so badly to know my reason for coming to Danbury. It seemed like there was not any purpose.
My second Sunday attending the Danbury Ward, it became very evident why I was there. As I sat in the hall after church talking with a few members, I noticed someone out of the corner of my eye standing very close to me. I looked over to find a young Chinese girl staring at my name tag with a very intrigued look on her face. “Do you speak Chinese?” I asked in the best Chinese that I could. A big smile came on to her face, as she slowly nodded her head up and down. I spoke to her with the little Chinese that I knew, and she replied with the little English that she knew. We were not able to talk for long, but long enough to get to know each other a little bit.
When I came home that night, I asked the missionaries serving in her ward to tell me a little bit about her. They did not know much, besides the fact that she was a recent convert. The following Sunday I was able to talk with her again. This time I asked about how she joined the church and heard a wonderful conversion story. When came to America with her mother only a few years ago, she met a member of our church that attended her high school. This young lady made her feel very comfortable, in this new foreign and strange place. As time went on, she was invited to attend church activities, and then meet with the missionaries. Even though she did not fully understand all that the missionaries shared with her, she loved the feelings of comfort and happiness that came as the missionaries spoke with her. She eventually made the decision to be baptized, and from that point on her life was changed. I also came to find out that her mother was not a member of the church. The missionaries had attempted to teach her before, but because she was not able to speak English there was no way for her to fully understand the concepts being taught. One day I decided to give this young lady a call and ask if I could go visit her mother. She agreed, but told me her mother did not have the best feelings about the church.
The first time I went over to her house, I came ready to teach the gospel. I reviewed my Chinese phrases, and carried under my arm a set of Chinese scriptures that I had marked and prepared so that I could read with her. I knocked on the door with confidence and excitement awaiting the miracle that laid on the other side of the door. The door opened abruptly, and in broken and loud English yelled, “My daughter not here!!” in Chinese. I explained to her through the closed door that I could speak a little Chinese, and I would love to talk with her for a second. I waited for a few seconds, and because of the long silence I assumed that she was not interested in what I had to say. Just as I started to walk away, I heard the sound of the creaking door slowly swing open. I turned around to find the mother of this young lady standing in the door frame. She looked at me with her mouth dropped almost all the way to the floor, and said “You speak Chinese?” I said yes, and she invited me in right away.
We talked for about 2 hours. I have never felt the gift of tongues so strongly my whole entire mission. This lady was not only speaking Chinese, she was speaking with a very strong accent that comes from the northern part of china. There is no way I would have been able to understand everything that she was saying by myself. She told me everything. She explained to me some very hard challenges that she had recently faced. She was crying, and so was I. My companion that did not speak any Chinese I am sure was very confused. She told me that she had been needing to talk with someone for so long, but in the Connecticut area the Chinese population is very scarce. She was so grateful just to have the opportunity to share her feelings.
Although she was grateful for me listening to her, she still did not have much interest in the church. She had heard some strange rumors about our church, and did not want to associate her self with it. Each time that I would come visit her, her heart would soften a little bit more. Eventually she started to pray, and read the scriptures. Her once shattered heart was slowly put back together. The time came for us to invite her to be baptized. She thought hard about our invitation, but told us that she did not feel like it was the right time. She felt like there was just too much going on in her life at the time. Not having a clue what to say, I offered her a priesthood blessing and invited her to pray about this important decision. The blessing was interrupted by everything that you could possibly imagine, and I felt like I did a horrible job. I left her home with my head down feeling very discouraged.
A few days later I received a call from this woman. The conversation was straight to the point. “Elder Barton, I have decided that I want to be baptized. When can I do that?” she said. I started to make the stuttering sounds again, when I was interrupted with, “How does the 4th of September sound?” I told her that sounds great, and that I was so excited for her. Right after hanging up the phone I remember being very confused. I had no idea what caused this amazing change of heart. After a couple weeks she was baptized. I saw her life completely change after that. The contention between her and her daughter was replaced with feelings of love and unity. The feelings she had of loneliness and sorrow were replaced with peace. There was a new light to her, that was not there before. After her baptism, she introduced the gospel to several of her friends, and is now preparing to get married in the temple.
It is funny how a lot of people are under the impression that missionaries are called to be amazing teachers. Sometimes we wrap our head around this so tight, we forget missionaries are also called to be learners. After this experience my mission took on a whole new light. Rather than seeing what the investigator had to learn from me, I tried to see what we could learn from each other. It is so amazing how well God knows each and everyone of his children. He knows each and every one of our deepest desires. God knew there was a Chinese woman in Danbury Connecticut that needed to be taught the gospel. He also knew there was a young missionary in South Manhattan struggling to understand the concept of humility. When I met her, and when she met me, both of our needs became resolved.
I am not going to lie and say, from that point on I never had a hard day for the rest of my mission. Of course I continued to have struggles, but as I faced them, I felt much more prepared. Often times, I think that God will use a trial to prepare us for the next one that we are going to face. He will push us as far as we can go, and then give us some time to ponder about what we have learned. Then we will be hit with another trial. At first this trial will seem impossible to over come, but as we reflect on what we have learned from the previous situation, we will find ourselves being strengthened and guided by the hand of God.
My mission has been the best two years of my life. I have learned so much, and grown so much. I have no way of denying the existence of God. The miracles I was so fortunate to see on my mission were not merely coincidence. It is not happen stance that after people apply principles of the gospel their life is changed. This is the formula of happiness that our Heavenly Father has given to us. It does not have any flaws. It is perfect like He is. I am so grateful for this opportunity to share this amazing message with the Chinese people of New York. As I have shared it every day, with all my heart for the last two years, my testimony has grown. The great habits I have learned on my mission will not end when I get home. Although I will be released from being a missionary, I will not be released from being the best I can be. I am still not even close to being all that my Heavenly Father wants me to be, but I know through the atonement of Jesus Christ I will be able to improve a little bit at a time.
This was required by my mission president. I just figured I would send it out to you guys! Sorry it is so long!
