The Savior taught His apostles an eternal truth when He said, "For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it" (Matthew 16:25).
For months after coming home from my mission, my mind and heart were full of regret and pain, especially as I thought of my future. At times, I heard people say that an individual's mission was a microcosm for the rest of his or her life, a predictor as to how faithfully they would walk the covenant path. That planted a seed in my mind that because I had not been my definition of the "perfect missionary," I could not be the faithful, contributing member of the Church that I had always envisioned being. I had had my chance, and I had blown it. I felt like I could only ever be a second-rate citizen in God's kingdom, no matter how hard I tried.
Writing that makes me flinch. It's embarrassing to admit that that was how I felt, when all my life I had been taught and, as a missionary, taught others, that the Atonement of Jesus Christ washes away our sins and heals our hearts, giving us a new page every day on which to write the stories of our lives. But the adversary had me. He had convinced me that the bright future I had hoped for as a disciple of Jesus Christ could never be. I feebly told myself his lies weren't true, that God still had a plan for me, but I couldn't feel it in my heart. And that lack of reassurance scared me and further compounded the conclusion I had reached that my future would always be shadowed by my past.
Then a call came to serve in my ward. It filled my time outside of school and work with visits and calls and planning and collaborating. I was getting to know lots of people in my ward—their hopes, their dreams, their disappointments, their struggles. I was praying and fasting for their needs and pleading with the Lord to guide and comfort and heal where and what I could not (so, basically everything!). Haha I remember feeling frustrated that I had to go to school and work because all I wanted to do was serve. It filled me with a motivating sense of purpose and fire.
And then one day, a few months later, I realized something amazing.
My mission didn't hurt me anymore.
Somewhere amidst the Tupperwared meals, the texts, the between-class conversations on campus, the evening talks on the swing seat, my pain had melted away. I was no longer plagued by the corrosive thoughts that had circuited endlessly through my brain in those months after coming home. I realized that for the first time in nearly a year, there were no nagging doubts, no clouding sense of permanent loss undergirding everything else. My mind and my heart were quiet, finally at peace.
Yet they were also filled with renewed enthusiasm. When I thought of my future, I saw endless opportunities to do and to be good. My calling was teaching me that reality. There were needs all around, and God trusted me to help fulfill them now and wherever they arose in the future. My calling even helped me to see that I was better able to serve because of the mistakes I had made as a missionary. I was more compassionate and able to reach out in ways I wouldn't have had it not been for my mission experience. I was given the opportunity to learn from those "failures" and to give the Lord and His work my heart in a new, complete way.
In that moment of realizing the memories of my mission did not hurt me anymore and that my future was as bright as I could hope for, my mind immediately went to the scripture in Matthew:
I guess I thought that the mission was the ultimate pass or fail test of losing my life. But since this experience with serving in my ward, I have realized again and again that the call to lose my life was not limited to the mission field. It is the call of a lifetime because it is the call given to disciples of Jesus Christ. Wherever I go, God gives me opportunities to forget myself in serving others, in even the most minute ways. I guess He had to make an official calling of it to get my attention, but He has it now, and I've tried to be a good student:) And the lessons have changed me forever. Life post-mission can be every bit as meaningful and wonderful as life during full-time service! God's children will always have need of helping, loving hands, and we all can be those hands, whether or not we wear a badge.
All this is to say that as I have tried to lose my life in the work of God—wherever and whenever He calls—
I have found a life worth living.
Writing that makes me flinch. It's embarrassing to admit that that was how I felt, when all my life I had been taught and, as a missionary, taught others, that the Atonement of Jesus Christ washes away our sins and heals our hearts, giving us a new page every day on which to write the stories of our lives. But the adversary had me. He had convinced me that the bright future I had hoped for as a disciple of Jesus Christ could never be. I feebly told myself his lies weren't true, that God still had a plan for me, but I couldn't feel it in my heart. And that lack of reassurance scared me and further compounded the conclusion I had reached that my future would always be shadowed by my past.
Then a call came to serve in my ward. It filled my time outside of school and work with visits and calls and planning and collaborating. I was getting to know lots of people in my ward—their hopes, their dreams, their disappointments, their struggles. I was praying and fasting for their needs and pleading with the Lord to guide and comfort and heal where and what I could not (so, basically everything!). Haha I remember feeling frustrated that I had to go to school and work because all I wanted to do was serve. It filled me with a motivating sense of purpose and fire.
And then one day, a few months later, I realized something amazing.
My mission didn't hurt me anymore.
Somewhere amidst the Tupperwared meals, the texts, the between-class conversations on campus, the evening talks on the swing seat, my pain had melted away. I was no longer plagued by the corrosive thoughts that had circuited endlessly through my brain in those months after coming home. I realized that for the first time in nearly a year, there were no nagging doubts, no clouding sense of permanent loss undergirding everything else. My mind and my heart were quiet, finally at peace.
Yet they were also filled with renewed enthusiasm. When I thought of my future, I saw endless opportunities to do and to be good. My calling was teaching me that reality. There were needs all around, and God trusted me to help fulfill them now and wherever they arose in the future. My calling even helped me to see that I was better able to serve because of the mistakes I had made as a missionary. I was more compassionate and able to reach out in ways I wouldn't have had it not been for my mission experience. I was given the opportunity to learn from those "failures" and to give the Lord and His work my heart in a new, complete way.
In that moment of realizing the memories of my mission did not hurt me anymore and that my future was as bright as I could hope for, my mind immediately went to the scripture in Matthew:
The Spirit confirmed to me in that moment that the peace that had, unbeknownst to me, filled my heart was directly correlated to my attempts to live this eternal truth.
All this is to say that as I have tried to lose my life in the work of God—wherever and whenever He calls—
I have found a life worth living.
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