"And we have entered into their houses and taught them, and we have taught them in their streets; yea, and we have taught them upon their hills; and we have also entered into their temples and their synagogues and taught them; and we have been cast out, and mocked, and spit upon, and smote upon our cheeks; and we have been stoned, and taken and bound with strong cords, and cast into prison; and through the power and wisdom of God we have been delivered again. And we have suffered all manner of afflictions, and all this, that perhaps we might be the means of saving some soul; and we supposed that our joy would be full if perhaps we could be the means of saving some"
These sentences bring back strong, sweet memories of my time as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I served for 18 months in and around Baltimore, Maryland. I met people from all different walks of life, with different religious backgrounds, social experiences, ethnicities, and most importantly, with different ideas of what is right and wrong. During this time I was able to talk to hundreds, if not thousands of people about my belief in Jesus Christ as the Savior, and of His restored Gospel and Church upon the earth.
Some people wanted to listen, and they appreciated the beliefs I shared, but nonetheless declined to learn more. Some people were rude, and had no desire to see me let alone listen to me. Some were mean hearted, and treated me as if I had personally wronged them. Yet, some wanted to listen. Wanted to learn. They felt the Holy Spirit moving inside them, and desired to be in the fold of God. They felt the truth as the Holy Ghost spoke to their spirit of the eternal truths I shared. These people, I will never forget. These people made the ones who hurt my heart seem like distant memories. These people acted as a healing balm to my bruised soul.
When people ask if I loved my mission, if it was hard, if it was worth it, I remember those who listened and learned of the truth, and changed their lives for good.