Mission Presidents From Hell

Story 1: On my mission we had the weekly 'inspirational story' from mission headquarters. One week the 'inspirational story' was that two elders who had recently followed the mission presidents counsel to add reflectors to their bikes had a car swirve widely around them and crash into another car! When I asked the ZL what was inspiring about that he simply said "well they COULD have hit the missionaries".

Story 2: The other missionaries in one of my areas was teaching people from Nigeria that all lived in one apartment (Nigerians often lived with many non-related people in one apartment in Italy). One guy had already been baptized in the apartment and three of four people from the aparment later joined. The first guy to be baptized got up one testimony meeting and gave a very enthusiastic testimony. When I got home from the mission I found out from another missionary that the first guy was(and always had been) an actual pimp and two of the women baptized were prostitutes. I feel bad, since many poor Nigerians are forced into prostitution-but certainly an interesting tale. Funny too because I never thought much about the fact that the 'pimp' guy always dressed in much nicer clothes than anyone else in the apartment-and that we weren't very concerned about what he did for work.

Story 3: One guy being taught claimed to have seen Joseph Smith appear to him and tell him to become a Mormon. Later when one of the missionaries called him he yelled and threatened to kill them if they ever came to his house again.

	When upon your pillows your "cookies" are tossed When you are disgorging, puking 'til all is lost, Count your mission parasites, name them one by one, And it will surprise you what the germs have done.
	(Refrain) Count your bacteria, treat them one by one, Pluck your bloody leeches, see what they've undone! Count your fungi, spoors, each and every one, Count your many cooties, see what decay hath done!
	(Verse 2) When you look at others with their hands and toes, Think that leprosy has also rotted off your nose, Count your many lesions. Ask the Bishop why? The Church won't pay your medical bills, so high.
	(Refrain) Count your microbes, name them one by one, Scatch your crotch, feel what the rot hath done! Dab that ointment, all pleasure you must shun! To hell with those many blessings, you know the Devil won!
	(Verse 3) Are you ever bloated with a load of care? Does your anus feel on fire and about to tear? Count your toilet paper sheets then let it fly, While you keep spewing as the days go by.
	(Refrain) Count your plagues, tame them one by one, Visit the doctor, now stick out your tongue! Count your prescriptions, take them one by one, Count your tape worms, see what havoc they have done!
	(Verse 4) So, amid the disease whether great or small, Do not be contagious, don't splash it on the wall; Count your many injections, doctors will attend, So bow down and let them examine your rear end.
	(Refrain) Count your many curses, caught down in your craw, Count your rashes, scratch 'em til they're raw! Count your burps 'n belches, when's the final straw? Tell your mission prez, it's time that I withdraw!

Missionaries who entered the field in the late 1970s and went through the "one week" mission home experience in Salt Lake City across from the Church Office Building will remember Mission Home President J. Martel Bird.

J. Martel Bird was "the" reason why many of us thought the honorable thing to do right away was to admit we were unworthy to even live (much less serve a mission) and just go home - repent - serve our time in some public correctional facility and then get on with life as a rebuked but semi-worthy soul who "might" hope some day in the distant future that God would "maybe" forgive us for being who we were.

Every evening after a day filled with lectures from J. Martel Bird elders took the opportunity to go to "confession" to see if they had done anything bad enough to be sent home. I was one of those missionaires. While the only thing I'd ever done that I felt bad about was masterbating the night before entering the mission home, I was sure it was enough to get me sent home. It wasn't.

I was told, infact, that is was of such little importance that I should never think of it again and just to go have a good mission. I was very relieved. The week continued with J. Martel Bird preaching fire and brimstone and how we'd better confess "everything" we'd ever done wrong since emerging from the womb or we would have no sucess and be condemed forever - if not longer.

I was scared beyond my wildest imagination. I started thinking about when I decked a kid in the playground in grade school and bloodied his nose. When I stole that army action figure from my friend when I was three years old. I worried about the time I lifted up my girl friend's dress in second grade to see what all the fuss was about and stuck a crayon up her vagina. I agonized over the time I stole a Hot Wheels car from a store when I was eight and didn't confess it before getting baptised.

And I worried that because I knew of crimes committed by my friends in junior high and high school that somehow I was guilty for not turning them in. Over a couple of days I could hardly sleep and was in such mental pain all I wanted was for the whole thing to be over. Of course, I felt I was the only missionary with such issues and for some odd reason I was one of maybe two missionaires ever to serve that had such issues and problems in my life. That I was the only one stupid enough not to take care of the repentance business before getting out in the mission field. At least that's what J. Martel Bird would have missionaries believe.

Then came a statement by J. Martel Bird I will never forget. He said when he was called to be the mission home president by Spencer W. Kimball, the things he and his wife were told were of such a revealing and faith-promoting nature that he and his wife would have jumped off of the top of the church office building to their death if Kimball had required it of them. That, he said, is how worthy you should already be. I was devastaed.

Anyway, about a year-and-a-half later my mission president in Scotland was going home. As a joke in the mission we all started saying: "watch, our new president will be J. Martel Bird." We shuttered to think such a thing could happend to us. But, as I live and breathe, it was announced shortly that our new presidnet would be none other than J. Martel Bird. I kid you not. A collective sign of dread went through the missionaires and all thought the end must really be near.

I was very afraid. As a high-ranking missionary it was my job to pick up J. Martel Bird from the airport and kind of shaddow him a bit while he got settled. His first question to me was: "I'm not independantly wealthy like President Oscarson and I can't pay for missionary meetings and dinners and such. What should I do?" I sugested he have each missionary pay a fee. He liked the idea and made sure in our first mission-wide conference that it was my idea. I wasn't very popular for a while.

The first week or so we sat in meetings while J. Martel Bird preached. We were told things like: when we go home and on a hot day take our garmets off to do any thing like wash the car or swim it was a sin and we would be condemned. If we thought ill of any church offical we were condemned. If we looked at any "lassie (girl)" while in the British Isles and even thought about her in any sexual way we were condemned forever. The list went on and on to the point that it was obvious none of us could ever hope for salvation no matter what we did. We began to wonder, understandbly so, why we were even out there if nothing we did would help us.

I found out later that the Scotland Glasgow mission, which took in Northern Ireland at the time, had a reputation in Salt Lake City as a "mission out of control." That President Oscarson had lax standards and treated the missionaires too well. That he let them go sight-seeing on their day off instead of working them to death every day. That he had too many holiday gatherings giving the elders a break and enjoying the day. That Oscarson had a TV in his home (which J. Martel Bird put in the attic immediately) and was breaking mission rules by watching it. Needless to say I was stunned.

I had always regarded Roy Oscarson as one of the greatest men I'd ever known. I idlized him as a man of God who we loved. But no - he wasn't good enough for J. Martel Bird or the hacks in Salt Lake City. So J. Martel Bird was there to clean up the mission.

Well, I only had to endure J. Martel Bird for a few months. As a leader-type missionary I was able to steer clear of him most of the time.

In my exit interview I asked him a couple of questions about the church's claims that had plaqued me for most of my mission. I forget now what they were (since there are so many) but J. Martel Bird looked stunned. He told me that since I had been contemplating such things I must not have had the spirit with me as much as I should have and that I probably missed some golden converts and would be held accountable for my weakness. I explained I didn't dewel on the matters and I had had more than my share of baptisms. I then asked him if my entire mission was a waste of time and if I was now suppose to worry about condemnation or how I would ever make it up to the Lord? He said he didn't know. But if I was faithful to the end, paid my tithing, did everything asked of me, God would take that into consideration.

The next several years I felt that I was never going to be acceptible to the Lord. Nevertheless, for the next 20 yeas I did my best.

Until fairly recently I just accepted my fate until one day I decided to find out if all the Mormon stuff is even ture. I took God out of the equation and studied the scriptures from a secular point of view. By doing this I was able to rid myself of making excuses to explain God's bazzare, violent, or demented behavior. What I found was a religion set up by man to control man. And, it's not a bad money maker either.

Once I was no longer bound to the mind control aspects of reiligion in general, EVERYTHING MADE PERFECT SENSE. God had become, in my mind, what he always was - a creation of man with all too vulnerable traits and petty concerns of common people. The God described in the Old and New Testaments was nothing more than the result of folklore and fables passed down through the generations not unlike the tales that have been created over the past thousands of years. I found that I no longer believed in God for the same reasons I don't in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Elves, or any other of the hosts of man-made figures.

But, I digress. Yes, my mission was a good experiance for the most part. But in retospect, if I had to do over I wouldn't. It was mostly a waste of time.

I have to agree that Roy W. Oscarson was a lovely man and think of him often. He was just a wonderful inspiring and uplifting man. I actually sat and watched his T.V. with him.What people forget is that at this time the 1970's in Northern Ireland "the troubles" were taking place and the country was policed by the British Army as things were so bad. In fact I know missionaries who were nearly killed.

President Oscarson advised all missionaries to keep a radio in the flat in case of trouble and listen to the news. The T.V. was used to watch the national news, he was in fact being cautious. On the other hand I have no time for J. Martel Bird thought he was a strange man and most Elders did. When I met him he would not shake my hand as I did not have my name badge on!!!

Just like Jesus would do.I will always remember Roy Oscarson as a Godly man no matter what anyone in SLC says or thinks.

12/21/2006 - Wow, you can't be serious. You wonder what your problem is? The 15 years leading up to your mission caused you so much guilt and felt like President Bird couldn't understand your problem (theft, other uses for crayons, what ever else). Get over it.

You are still bitter 20 years after your mission. Is there a problem? Figure it out. Can't you find something positive about your life. You sound like you have lived a very productive life. (sarcasim, if you can't figure it out). President Bird passed away several years ago. Lucky for you.

Wouldn't your life be awful if you crossed paths with him again. I served under President Bird as well and I am grateful for the positive influence he had on my life. He inspired me many times. Was he strict. Oh yeah. Did I suffer unforgettable mental damage? Hardly.

If your going to write on a site like "mission presidents from hell." Have the courage to post your name. It really takes alot of courage to slam someone and not post your name-anon. I would love to hear who you are and help me better understand were you are coming from.

One, president of the Michigan Detroit mission told young men "..come on, put on that white shirt and tie and be a DORK FOR THE LORD for a couple of years.." He also played the guitar and sang at firesides.

The other I know personally. He is a professor of anthropology, believes in (preaches!) evolution, does NOT believe in the historocity of the OT, BOM, or BOA. I am serious as a heart attack. He helped refute the Kinderhook plates and other phony church relics.

After our freshmen year at BYU, my freshmen boyfriend (Brett) recieved his mission call-- to serve in the exact mission where my parents lived! He went into the MTC after Winter Semester while I went home to my parent's house during the summer. Sure enough, his first area was in my stake! My father was a new convert and my mother was taking the discussions, so Brett couldn't help but run into them. He and his companion taught my parents in our family home, but there was absoulutely no "funny business" going on. Brett was a completely obedient missionary, keeping all of the "white handbook" rules about communicating with members of the opposite sex, etc. But as he was teaching my parents and was ASSIGNED TO LABOR in our stake and ward, I couldn't help but run into him... I COULDN'T HELP IT!!! Which is why I was so ticked when, one early Monday morning, I got a phone call from the local mission president, chastising me for contacting Brett! He berated me up and down, saying that I had no business seeing my boyfriend, and didn't I want to help him be an obedient missionary? I was so taken aback (and it was rather early in the morning), that I just ended up agreeing with the mission president. He had me promise to attend the singles' ward (which was detrimental bc my parents were investigating the church and would obviously be attending the family ward), and he also had me promise to go back to BYU as soon as possible, so that my very existence would "no longer be a temptation."

It wasn't until later that I realized how absurd the whole situation was! The mission president is the one who assigned Brett to our area! This was not my fault! I was merely living at home with my parents during the summer, earning money before fall semester, like any other college student! What a prideful, arrogant man this mission president was to deny his own lack of discernment and instead lay guilt upon a 19-year-old girl. - 02/06/2004 - anon

My first missionary companion, my trainer, eloped 3 weeks after I arrived. I had been told (by the mission pres himself on my first day in Brazil) that my companion was the "most spiritual Elder." Spiritual my a$$! He was glum, somber and stupid. I hated every day of those first 3 weeks. When he left, I could hardly refrain from helping him pack! I then called my mission pres to tell him what happened. Something like 5 weeks later - after I thought it was all water under the bridge, I got this small handwritten note saying something like "Elder Fubeca, the day you let your companion leave was my darkest day in Brazil. Keep an eye on your companions. You are your brother's keeper. I wish I had known sooner"

Talk about a guilt trip! - and if it was so heartfelt, why didn't he send it right after it happened? He waited 5 weeks! Like it was all my fault. My companion was a native Brazilian and probably planned the whole thing in front of my face since I couldn't understand or speak Portuguese at the time! That, and the fact that I did notice he was pretty friendly with this one girl and told my DL (I'm ashamed to say now, I DID nark on him). So much for following prescribed procedures.

At the time this letter really tore me up. Now it just angers me. My Pres was king of emotional manipulation and I was his puppet. - 12/01/2003 - Fubeca

I remember how our mission pres used to "reward" us for baptisms. The missionnaries that got the most baptisms in the months were allowed to watch videos. I won the right to watch: Rocky 1, Rocky 2 and Rocky 3. The Karate Kid 1 and 2. Star Wars 1, 2 and 3. I went to see "The Miserables" three times :) :) :). And when you dis at least 10 first discussions in one week, you won a pizza!!!

What a fun (not really) time in the England London Mission!!!! - 10/05/2003 - anon

One of my Mission Presidents offered to give us a certificate if we achieved certain goals every week over a three-month period, including working x number of hours, teaching y discussions, and baptising z converts, etc. In principle, these were all worthwhile motivational goals. The problem was that the Prez couldn't have motivated a choir of nuns, and nobody gave a shit.

The only elder who actually got a certificate was the mission kiss-arse. The President made a big fuss over him at zone conference, but since everybody thought the elder was a crawling tosser, nobody gave a shit about that either.

I served a mission under His Royal Highniness, Walter Guedes de Queiroz in the Brazil Porto Alegre ("Gay Port"!) Mission from 1980-82. What a fucking nightmare.

First of all, Queiroz had been a hell-and-brimstone Baptist preacher before discovering "the True Gospel". He brought a lot of his preaching tactics with him into Moronism, unfortunately for us Elders. And I mean ONLY Elders, as Queiroz believed sister missionaries to be either totally weak or satanic, and he refused to have any assigned to his mission; the few that had been there when he came on board he had had reassigned to other missions in Brasil, so by the time I arrived there were only Elders in our mission.

Of the roughly 100 Elders, only 12 or so at any given time were North Americans, the rest being native Brazilians, some from Portugal, and 2 or 3 from Argentina. He thoroughly disliked us North American elders. At mission conferences, we all lined up like a military inspection and he would walk down the line giving little moments of inspiration or criticism to each elder, as the case may be. But invariably, each Brazilian elder received a hardy "abraco" (hug) but North American elders merely got a firm hand-shake. Okay, he wasn't that cute (and he was way too short for me), but I wanted my hug, dammit! NAs (North Americans) also had a much more difficult time getting into any leadership positions, because of his discrimination against us.

At least a dozen of us were also Gay (including yours truly), which made for interesting mission dynamics. Two of the Brazilians were totally out of the closet (one being a professional roller skate Queen) and the president's response to all of us was to keep us as far away from mission headquarters (and him) as possible. I personally was never allowed to hold any mission callings either - I never even made it to "Senior Companion"!!! And I could speak Portuguese better than most Brazilians....

But I was also consistently the lowest baptizer in the mission and was held up by the Prez, on more than one occassion, as the negative example. You see, I "only" came home with 157 converts (including two bishops, five RS presidents, a slew of branch presidents, and several youngsters who went on missions later). 157 is a lot for most missionaries. But not for our mission. During that era, we were consistently the highest or second highest baptizing mission in the world - 100 of us baptizing about 1000 people a month. I simply refused to go in for all the manipulative bullshit that other missionaries were using. I, a TBM, felt like the gospel should sell itself and I was interested only in finding people of faith. But other missionaries had fewer scruples than I; every Morg Chapel in Brasil had a BEAUTIFUL - but fenced in - soccer field which our Elders used as a petrie dish for breeding new invesigators.

Such spurious tactics leads to the other end of our mission spectrum: Elder Cano, the AP. He was given the formal title (by the Prez) of "Prince of the Mission" and we referred to him as such. He was the canon by which we were all to be measured. Cano was to be our standard, our goal, our dream. He went home with over 1000 converts (yes, one THOUSAND) under his belt. But I did some report typing (I could type 100 words a minute, no errors on a manual typewriter - I'm SOOOOO Gay!) in the mission home once and funny, but Elder Cano seemed to baptize ONLY 12-17 year old girls! So I asked him later if he'd ever baptized a man. Nope. Any woman over 30? Uh, one. Any woman over 20? Uh, a few. Then I had the supreme thrill of watching the Prince in action during a mission conference in which we all did tracting for a day. I got to be the Prince's temporary companion in the hopes that some of his magic missionizing would rub off on me - the mission embarassment. We took thre! e young women to an ice cream shop and basically had a date with them. Elder Cano was a Total Charmer and oozed sensuality out of every pore of his skin - he even kissed each one on the mouth when we said good-bye. Later, I heard rumors that the Prince had procreated a little princeling with one of his golden contacts. So those were the tactics I was to employ to get more converts to the Lord's Church?? I was disgusted at the hypocrisy of all this. Okay, okay, I admit that I did baptize one or two super-cute 18 year old boys who had crushes on me. But I never kissed, fondled, or boinked them!

In the meantime, I dropped by the mission office to file some papers and started to ask the fiscal secretary some rather pointed questions about mission funds. Like why were there only two cars in the entire mission (for a geographical area that was basically the size of a smallish Texas)? Why did we live in shacks in the "favelas" while the Prez lived in a mansion in the burbs? Why were there NO bicycles in our mission? Where were all the mission funds from Slick City going? The secretary flatly refused and told me to mind my own business. Later, we had a whispered talk at a quiet burger joint and he explained a few facts to me: (1) Queiroz had been a Baptist preacher all his life and that's all he knew how to do career-wise; (2) he had no way to make a living to support his growing family after his mission was up and he was SCARED; (3) US dollars could be gambled into a lot more money on the Brazilian "black market" so the President had received "carte blanche" from The Brethren to handle his own financial arrangements, with little documentation to back up his transactions. You do the math....

I do have to give him credit when it came to my "erectile problems". One of my companions was a Total Italian Dream Boat so I walked around with an erection for three solid days after we got assigned together. Finally I got "blue balls" so bad that I was screaming in agony and my hunky comp took me to the hospital. I sheepishly explained to the doc what was happening. Bless his heart, he called the Prez and informed him that if I didn't masturbate on a weekly basis that I could do severe damage to myself and become sterile or worse. So the Prez aquiesced (every Mormon a procreator, you know) and gave me official sanction to Do the Dirty while on the mish. The other Elders were totally jealous and wanted to know what my secret was. Of course I couldn't tell them that Elder Afonso was such a hotty that I couldn't see straight! (ahem)

I had several other minor run-ins with the Prezinator but I mostly stayed the hell away from him whenever possible. However we did have another huge battle over a district newsletter that I put together. The mission-wide newsletter put out by the Prez and his staff consisted of a brief message from Him and then PAGES of statistics, letting everyone know exactly where we all stood in relation to the Mighty Prince. This bored me to no end and was absolutely uninspiring. And being the Sunstone Symposium-Dialogue-Mike Quinn-Mormon Underground junky that I had been, I started a district newsletter called "The Kolob". I translated news features from Sunstone into Portuguese, wrote doctrinal expositions on the Pearl of Great Price, reviewed the conflicting versions of the First Vision story, ya know, things like that - anything to keep my intelligence even slightly fed, and all in Portuguese. The first issue was rather mild and I actually received a nice letter of praise from the Prez, which totally blind-sided me.

But then issue 2 came out and he immediately called me to the mission home (a 24 hour train ride away for me!) I walked into his office and he immediately COMMANDED me to cease publishing the Kolob. I refused to do so and he told me that I was wasting the Lord's time on "besteira" (drivel or junk). And I told him that I worked on it only during my P-Day activities and so it was MY time to waste. He again forbade me to publish another issue and I left in a huff. Of course a week later a new issue of the Kolob came out. Queiroz was livid. He yanked me from the very distant town where I had been and stuck me in one of the suburbs near Porto Alegre, where he could keep a close eye on me (the only time I served anywhere near him). He put me in a huge shack with five other Elders and he told them I was not to use any of my P-Day time for study or writing anything except letters to home - no typing under any circumstances. So the other obedient Elders made sure that I didn't have time or access to a typewriter during my P-Day and that was the end of the Kolob.

When The Holy Brethren made the change in 1982 from 2 year to 18 month missions for Elders, I had been out 20 months and so was given the option to leave or stay the remaining four months. I was so over Queiroz and his slimy policies and politics that I bailed. The best two years of my life? HARDLY.

I had personal experience with that on my mission. I guess all missionaries do to some extent, because whenever the GAs came to speak (even at the MTC) we were instructed not to tape record it. But specifically, Loren Dunn came to our mission not long after I arrived and was still a trainee. He called a special zone conference. Before he started, everyone was warned that they could not tape him. A few times, with a quick glance around the room for recorders. I turned mine off (feeling a little jipped - I knew something spiritually wonderful was going to be coming from this giant and I wanted to be able to hear it again) dutifully.

Then Loren proceeded to rip all of us missionaries up one side and down the other because we were one of the lowest baptising missions in the church (I think we were in the states the lowest at that time). He threatened, ranted, raved, (For example, I'll never forget one part of his tirade- he said in a quiet voice that the Lord had revealed to him who the most unworthy misssionaries were and then in very loud and angry voice that "Lord god of israel had shown them to him" and that if they wanted him to, he could stand them up in shame and hand them plane tickets home." At that point, most were afraid he was talking about them because anything- sleeping in 5 minutes, not opening your mouth to everyone you saw, etc., could be a serious offense according to the stuff he had told us earlier in the speach.

He also told us if we didn't baptise monthly (mission average was 1 per missionary per year) that we would fail the Lord, and then he would be sure that we "failed in life" and "failed in eternal life". Lots of hurtful things were said that day. It wasn't until I studied my way out of the church 10 years later, that I was finally free of the crap his emotional and spiritual abuse left in me- and I was actually a good missionary- left on my mission in love with the church, ready to serve, baptised several times the average, and served in leadership all but a couple of months my entire mission. But because of him I still felt I had failed and was haunted. When I returned from my mission I had gone from being in love with god, to being afraid of him. I wish to God that I had taped the times he visited the mission- that guy was nuts. He even had us doing a door approach that consisted of "Hello, we are representatives of the Lord Jesus Christ. He has sent us to you to tell you that he wants you to be baptised. We are having a baptism next saturday at 7pm, will you accept Jesus challenge to you to be baptised?". This was supposed to work because the field was white all ready to harvest (which is why we were such failures, if the field was white ready to harvest it must be easy to baptise, which can only mean we sucked) and he didn't want us wasting time on those who didn't have the blood of israel, and supposedly those with the blood of israel would respond to the spirit when we gave this Spiritual Giant's version of the door approach and accept.
LOL- can't believe I did that and can't believe the crap I swallowed for that guy.

BUT the worst of it is when I was dealing with it all years later, my folks wouldn't believe it was as bad as I said- and I had no proof because like an obedient idiot, I never taped it.

I had a mission president in Chicago that had us listen to mind washing tapes as we layed in bed to go to sleep. - 10/25/2002 - anon

...in the New England Mission in the early 1970s. All the missionaries were just transfixed by his greatness, and especially his great, interesting stories in which he was invariably the hero. Of course, it wasn't until a few years later that the truth came out --- thanks to an inquiring Salt Lake Tribune reporter --- who checked up on some of the dates and the like --- and proved beyond a doubt that many of Elder Dunn's stories could not possibly be true. Of course, rather than admit the truth, the LDS heirarchy simply put Brother Dunn on emeritus status, which quickly and effectively killed the scandal.

I served in the Argentina, Buenos Aires South mission from 87-89. I served under Presidents Abad and Aguero. Abad was the quintessential gentleman and Nary had a judgemental bone in his body. His service was ending just as I was arriving and fate couldn't have been crueler. Pres. Aguero had the short man's disease; he had to outdo the world. He was a native Argentine and was going to prove his worth to the Salt Lake Bretheren. Little by little the luxuries of the mission were replaced with hardships and menial petty rules.

He had the spirit flowing through him! My senior companion (another native) was determined to be noticed. We walked instead of taking buses and worked till 2 or 3 in the morning all to stack our hours worked. My companion required that he fill out my weekly report so that our reports matched. He rarely wrote less than 75 hours per week worked and always doubled or tripled our discussions. For Zone conference, we were paraded in front of the zone for our model work ethic and were praised by the president as the ideal missionaries.

Next came the baptisimal fiasco. The AP's planned a zone wide gathering where each set of missionaries (20 or so) would bring every interested convert for a big fireside type inspirational and baptisimal. Sensing the arena mentality, I opted to tell no one, but knew I had to drag at least one unfortunate soul out.

The AP had recieved direct inspiration from the lord about the seating layout (I kid not), in fact he let us all know that he had recieved revelation on most of the details of the promotional show and none of our suggestions were needed.

The seats were placed in rows with one seat behind the other so that no two people could sit side to side. He felt that this would only distract the potential baptisms. It was to be an hour long discussion with testimonies and teaching, with a final push to have a community baptism. The belief was that all would rush to be baptized as they saw their fellow brothers and sisters taking the plunge, and that there would be a sort of obligation if others were doing it.

About 70-80 people were packed in the small church, in this alienating seating arrangement and treated to a 3 hour marathon of crying testimonies and endless drone. As I looked at the kind, loving Argentine people on the verge of madness and dismay at the cultlike techniques employed, I felt a shame like never before. I truly hoped not a soul would give in to this transparent manipulation.

Finally the AP stood in front of all and challenged every person present to be baptized by raising the hand as indication of readiness and willingness. The place went stone dead silent and not a hand went up. He challenged again and nothing. After a long uncomfortable silence he asked again and a brave 9 Yr. old boy tentatively raised his hand in acceptance. The whole place cleared to the baptisimal room thankful that one brave kid spared them any more discomfort and agony.

The whole affair was a monumental flop. I was estatic to see the smug, self righteous AP eat every stupid word he had said that night to us "lower caste" missionaries. Mostly I was ashamed with the most unchrist like and impersonal method utilized by these "inspired men of God" to bring souls unto him. It was then that I realized a mission was NOT to convert and fellowship, it was about numbers!

The Arizona Tempe Mission, 20+ years ago, gave certificates to Elders that got the job done. If you baptized two people you got a certificate with a blue emblem, five got you a red. If you were a Wilford Woodruff you got a gold sticker and a trip to the Temple! WOW. - 05/27/2002 - Tom

I served in the Ireland Dublin Mission 1987-89. If you baptised 5 people, you got a specially-made necktie featuring the mission "rod of iron" emblem. My mission president sometimes would have the elect rodders sit on the stand with him when he would conduct meetings. There were 20-30 guys with the rod of iron award. I had zero baptisms, so I received the "piece of shit" award. There was no necktie for that. - 05/27/2002 - Makurosu

In our mission, the prez bought a hand sickle, spray-painted it gold and awarded it each month the the highest baptizing companionship. It was named after that retarded D+C chapter on the field being white and ready to harvest and he who thrusts in his sickle with all his might..blah, blah, blah.

I would just sit there and wonder if the prez and everyone else realized how off base it all was. I mean, if the church is true we should have to motivation to teach and baptize for the gospel's sake. - 05/27/2002 - brainbutter

In Australia the Prez ran an incentive for 2 months - - - a boomerang for the baptizing missionaries. Woohoo!!!! - 05/27/2002 - curious

My mission president had this WILD and CRAZY idea that the motivation for teaching the gospel was the gospel itself and "your concern for your lost brothers and sisters," which is the best and right motivation if you really believe it.

Of course my mission president was also a bit of a clown and had a "past" couched in the 60's, one of the truly and genuinely good, understanding and accepting TBM's I've ever met.

I loved when he would come back from Area Conferences bitching about how stupid and disingenuous the "star on the forehead" mentality of other mission presidents was. - 05/27/2002 - marty_klyman

Missionaries are not the only things getting sent home at the discression of mission presidents these days. Missionary letters are also subject to their scrutiny as to whether they are worthy to be sent home or not. No kidding.

My little brother recently came home from a mission in a country where there is a significant threat of violence against the missionaries. In order not to upset their parents, the mission president told the missionaries not to write any negative comments about the persecution or threats they might recieve. He actually had the missionaries sent their letters home to the mission office first for his approval. He would screen them for content and have the missionaries write the letters over if they were not up to his standards. Some months he would sent about half the letters back the the missionaries for another revision. But what bothers me the most is that most of the missionaries quietly complied with this outrageous overcontrol and violation of their privacy. I mean parents I could believe. But girlfriends???

Can you imagine writing to that special spirit back home planning a temple wedding upon your glorious return, knowing that your mission president is going to read and censure every word?

Fortunately I never served on a mission but I did briefly work for a stake president who was selling his business to an associate so he could be unemcumbered while serving as a mission president in Europe. And of course he had a to have a clean financial statement to go since you know the Lord would never call someone who had just declared bankruptcy to represent Him!

The reason I'm posting this is because I think the M.P. grossly took advantage of the employee he was selling the business to. I was brought in to be the comptroller for the business and it was evident what had happened. The M.P. had two different business, one a small manufacturing concern and the other a sales company. The manufacturing business had constantly been in the hole and the M.P. had siphoned off as much money as he could from the successful sales firm to prop up the manufacturing business. In order to keep the manuf. biz from going totally belly up he pretty much drained the sales company of its liquidity. Then, when the call came to be an M.P., he closed down the manuf. side, leased his patents to another company (making sure he retained some royalties)and then sold the sales company to his associate for a lot of money down and then sizable monthly payments which were going to the M.P. for the duration of his European sojourn.

Result? It didn't take long for me to figure out that the M.P. had stuck it to his associate. We were sending several grand a month to this guy in Europe while we struggled to keep the sales company afloat. While the M.P. managed to avoid bankrupting his manuf. business, the associate eventually had to bankrupt the sales business and himself personally. Returning from his mission in glory, the M.P. then went to a neighboring state, set up a sales company pushing the same products he did before and was back in the chips, his associate (a returned missionary) taking the fall for the M.P.'s prior business misjudgments.

I escaped, years ago, from Utah and the whole Mormon hoax. I worked hard at school, married a tall beautiful Lutheran girl from Canada and got a good job. We were able to buy a house in a nice neighborhood where, I thought, no faithful tithe paying Mormon could ever afford to live. I had it made, until the church bought the house next to me for a mission home!

I have watched several mission presidents come and go every three years like clockwork. They make fine neighbors because they have plenty of cheap labor to keep the grass cut and the yard in shape. They travel all the time and they don't make much noise.

I have not been able to stop the constant visits, but it is rather amusing to play the role of the mildly interested long-range investigator and coffee-table philosoher. It keeps me just about as close to the church as I want to be and it keeps a constant stream of cookies, casseroles and greeting cards flowing. I no longer have to fake ignorance about the church, I can now claim to have been a serious investigator for over a decade.

My kids play with the mission presidents kids. These families of mission presidents are remarkable for their rigidity and the latent anger and resentment in their children over control issues. But most of the time they endure silently and present a positive face to the public. The most recent mission president is really something else. He and his wife might have had a stable family before The Call. But once here they seem to think that they have been released from all the pleasant duties of parenthood. Their children have suffered miserably. Their college age girl may have had plans to attend BYU before their arrival and nothing about being the mission president's daughter (200 eligible young missionaries?) kept her here. Their high school age daughter didn't last a month before she headed back to Zion. Geting up at 5:00 a.m. for Seminary didn't sit too well with her. Next, the younger children became incorrigible. They had one of the sister missionaries called to be the mission nanny to take care of these brats. (Imagine paying $375.00 a month to be a nanny!) That didn't work and the little kids had to be shipped off to relatives. Finally their 8th grade boy ran away from home and turned up at a friend's place. It gave them quite a scare for a few hours. Now he is back in Utah.

I don't know what this mission president is doing to his kids but they can't stand being around him and everyone of them has left home. I can only speculate that the constant pressure to be perfect and live the gospel to the letter of the law is too much for them. Children need attention and perhaps the mission president and his wife have become so obsessed with the missionary work that they are not giving their kids anywhere near the emotional support that they need. It must have felt like hell to them or they wouldn't have all left.

About four months into my mission in Frankfurt Germany a little brown-nosing businessman from Utah was assigned to be the next mission president. Among other uplifting changes he instituted, he added a section to our weekly reports that required us to state whether we had received any mail from members of the opposite sex living within the mission boundaries and whether or not we wore our temple garments night and day. We then were asked if our companion had received similar mail and wore his garments night and day.

I'm now ashamed to say that I answered these questions about myself, but I at least had sufficient backbone to refuse to answer them about my companion. My standard responses were, "I don't read my companion's mail," and "I don't check my companion's underwear."

He hung a sign in the mission office reading, "This is a business office. Please conduct your business with the least possible interruption of the work." His idea of motivation was to tell us that he would be submitting a "blue report" on each of us to Salt Lake at the completion of our missions and that the contents of this report would follow us for the rest of our lives (is this actually done?).

Once when he came to our city to interview the missionaries he told us that due to a big push for more missionaries by the church, he had been told that he could have more missionaries assigned to his mission. But he had declined "because we had the fourth highest number of baptisms per companion pair in Europe" and he "didn't want to ruin the numbers." I almost fell off my chair. Here's a guy who presumably believes that the church offers the salvation of souls to converts and that more missionaries means more converts, yet he was willing to sacrifice souls for the sake of his baptisimal numbers!

The man was a dour, joyless, brown-nosing asshole.

I was in the Frankfurt, Germany mission from 1978-1980. I believe that one of the previous posters is talking about the same MP I had. He was a German and had served on the German side in WW2 (Ten to one he was a Nazi!)

Anyway, he made us wear businessman hats from October through March. Nobody but older men wore businessman hats. When he walked into the room he expected all of the missionaries present to stand up in honor of him. (This was discontinued when a visiting GA told him to stop it). And like the previous poster said, he tried his best to get us to buy a cassette tape, for $15, of "acceptable" songs sung by some of the office staff and was upset when we told him we weren't interested. I learned later that he had used mission funds to buy recording equipment and he needed the money from us to help pay off the debt. What a nutcase.

PS I would very much like to hear from the previous poster from the Frankfurt mission. My e-mail is simcon@wans.net.

I will always believe that these young people who serve missions are some of the best people that walk the face of the Earth. If you can judge a tree by it's fruits, then I would have to say that in general the caliber of young people serving missions is a plus for the collective. I have an incredible admiration and love for those missionaries that served with me, almost as if they are my own sons and daughters.

So it is with that preface that I tell you what it was like to send missionaries home for transgression. I had an occasional elder come to me with a belated confession (something that happened before their mission that they never confessed). Why do they come forward later? Because a mission is harder than they ever imagined, and they become convinced that their lack of success is because of their own faults, of which they must be purged. This is part of the heinous manipulation put upon these young people from a lifetime of mind control efforts beginning at their mothers knee. For the record I never perpetuated this manipulation, I didn't have to, the attitude that "I have to be better, I'll never be good enough" was already well engrained.

When I was a new mission president and the confession was of a "serious" nature I would dutifully call the area presidency and discuss the matter. They would look for my recommendation but essentially any decision regarding sending home was out of my hands. In ever instance I plead with the GA's to let the elders stay. What was my motivation for them to stay? First, I loved them and so I guess I would miss them, second, I wanted to save them from the embarrasment they didn't deserve by going home early, third, I felt that I could help them work through their repentance while continuing to serve.

Even in the most egregious confessions (usually something like having sex with their girl friend after they'd been through the temple and just a night or two before they left for the MTC) I believed that the blood of Christ was adequate to wash away the stains of the truly repentant, their attitudes of repentance being obvious by their unsolicited confession. I saw no need in humiliating them and disappointing their families. I saw no good that could come from such heavy handed and consequantial action against such great young men. And so I would beg the brethren to let them stay in the field and let me help them work through their feelings. I was unsuccessful twice in my pleas for mercy. After that, I quit reporting serious confessions to the brethren. I handled them myself. I made sure the elders understood it was a serious matter, and a couple of times I even told them I'd called the brethren, and amazingly they had given permission for the elder to stay.

And you know, an amazing thing happened. It was often these missionaries with the "tainted past" that really made a difference in the mission. I'm not talking about just baptizing, but about being mature influences, a little less naive and judgemental of others, more comforting to other missionaries who were struggling. I will never regret protecting them from the wrath of their Church. Like I said, I love them.

There is a phenominal shame in going home early. Young men become a pariah, their sins are speculated upon, magnified and guessed and gossiped about for months on end. The parents are treated as if their son had died. The social consequences pale in comparison to the psychological consequences. These young men, already laboring under a great burden of guilt, have now uterly failed a lifetime event. How can they recover from that, their pride and ego intact? They have been scared for life. And why???, because they are human living in a world of inhuman expectations.

Not every mission president is an overbearing, brown nosing oaf looking to be a general authority. In fact, I would say that of the dozens I know, only a small handful would fit in this category, but they are out there wreaking their brand of terror and guilt. It is a disgrace for which they and the Church should hang their collective heads in shame.

Thank you SLDrone for those inspiring remarks that have uplifted me and renewed my gratitude to one of my favorite companions. My mission president, a native Japanese man, was probably a good decent person but I never felt that I could trust him with anything that might result in the disgrace of being sent home.

I had a problem on my mission. It started when I was assigned to work with the most incredibly miserable and depressed companion. He would not get out of bed or speak to me for days and days. He would cry for hours at a time for no apparent reason. I would leave food beside his futon and he ignored it, although later some of it would be eaten. He drove me crazy. I had to leave the dark cloud that hung over our apartment just to pray. I put up with this for four long hot months.

One day I ran across K. She had been a golden investigator way back but she had not been baptized because she did not want to upset her parents. One thing lead to another and soon we were in love. We didn't go all the way, but we did indulge in some pretty heavy necking. She became my secret companion and she had very creative ideas about converting people. We started this brat English program in a big apartment complex and we organized a missionary baseball team. Subsequent missionaries mined these well-planned programs for many months, if not years, for converts that eventually numbered in the dozens. For the time I rode an emotional roller coaster of nightly lust and daily guilt so intense I thought I would die.

Then I found out another reason why missionaries shouldn't date. It was so cruel and unfair to be separated after only 3 weeks together.

My next assignment was about two hours away and K. started to show up at church there where her parents, who had friends in their local ward, wouldn't know she was attending. She never spoke to me and left me only one short note warning me that my new companion was very suspicious. He was a native Japanese missionary with a bad reputation for being a heartless machine. But we got along just fine. Too much work was far preferable to idle despair. Minor miracles blessed us; things like being able to memorize 10 pages of Lesson Plan in 5 minutes, or getting run over by a bus and not being seriously injuried, or finding good people to teach.

After one month I recieved the call to be a Senior companion for the first time and a DL to 8 of the top new missionaries in a new area that was being opened up. It was a dream come true for the kind of guy who was trying to make it up the ladder to AP. But I was so guilt-ridden by this girlfriend that I doubted my ability to even function independently. I felt entirely unworthy to even be a missionary and the only rationalization I gave myself was that I wouldn't hold a good companion back. I would sacrifice my soul and face the fires of hell trying to be a better companion than I had experienced rather than go home in disgrace because I couldn't carry the burden of my sins.

I told my native companion that I couldn't accept the assignment. "Why?" he inquired. In this unguarded moment I let her first name slip out. One word.

Damn! I thought to myself, now they will find out about everything and I will be on the next plane to Utah.

He looked at me narrowly and informed me that he was entirely aware of my unchaste liason with K. He explained that my sense of unworthness caused me to be humble and to realize that I couldn't do it myself. So I had come to rely on the Lord. And this reliance coupled with a willingness to work was what made us successful and would allow me to succeed in the next assignment. "What do you want?" he asked me. "Excommunication and disgrace?" "Forgiveness?" "I am your Branch President and I officially forgive you. Do you feel any different now? Of course not. The church can not forgive you, only the Lord. Now go get packed, and don't keep the Lord waiting."

"By the way, do you want me to call K. and give her the bad news or would you rather do it?" I let him call K. I said good-bye to her forever the next morning at the train station. He eventually married her.

I have never been entirely free from the dictated feeling that maybe I got away with something and that one day I will face a severe penality for what happened in Japan many decades ago. One stupid question in the temple recommend interview is always irritating to me. This in spite of continued success in a variety of church and career positions over many years.

Ultimately I came away from this experience with much ambivolence and distrust of organized religion. I am still active and I think a church can do much good. But I revolt at some of the claims that our church leaders aways know best and other authoritarian nonsense that trickles down to us. If the church leaders can't trust the judgement of mission presidents with common problems, then they ought to try running the missions themselves.

My mission president was a retired enlisted man and one of the biggest jerks I've ever met. For the six longest months of my mission I was stationed in the office with him. One morning, before leaving the apartment to report for duty, I got a call from a member who worked with us in the office part-time to help out with landlord negotiations. He had a quick errand that he needed me and my comp to run (since he didn't have a car). I made the crazy assumption that this brother had already approved everything with the prez. Oops!

So my comp and I show up 15 minutes late, which means we missed the daily status/prayer meeting entirely. Since nothing positive ever happened in these short meetings, I was just thinking how cool it was we had an excuse to miss one as we entered the office and the personal secretary got a funny look on his face and said the prez wanted to see me (since I was the sr. comp) ASAP.

I went into the office where Master Sergeant Butthole closed the door and proceeded to ream me a new one at the top of his lungs for over ten minutes. I lost count of how many times he said "at 8:30 a.m. you're #1 priority is your mission president!" I tried to explain, but instead of calming him down it just made him madder and just caused him to yell at the sweet old man who was just trying to help out some dumb American missionaries for free. I felt so guilty and wished I'd just taken the blame myself.

I had so many more problems with him before being transferred back into the field that--even though I hadn't lost my testimony yet--I knew that if the GA buddies whose names he loved to drop ever invited him to join them in the red seats in the tabernacle that I would leave the Church.

As I re-read my mission journals, I'm amazed that I not only survived those six months but stuck it out for the rest of my mission (almost another year) and managed to keep coming up with enough rationalizations for everything that I actually returned home with my testimony still more or less intact (assuming he wouldn't became a GA).

That was a long time ago. I don't go the Church any more (for plenty of other reasons), and he still can't figure out why he isn't a GA. What a beautiful irony!

I served as a missionary in Sydney, Australia 1983 through 1985. I served under President Watts after the infamous Loren C Dunn/President Wright days. During the 1976-1980 Sydney Australia baptised upwards of 1,000/year. To do this the mission President had Day of Pentecost discussions where people where frequently baptised after only one discussion. These mission Presidents had missionaries come to peoples homes and ask if they wanted to bless their home. The Aussies thought the missionaries were fanatics and they had the reputation of sticking their foot in the door and forcing their way in. Needless to say this made if very difficult for missionaries who came after. Less than 10% of the people who were baptized remained active during the 1976-1980 timeframe and the baptisms declined to 200-300 a year during the 1983-1984 timeframe.
- 10/01/2000 - Elsewhere

My son was on a mission is Australia. After he had been there for about a year, he called home very early one morning to tell us that he was having problems with his thyroid. He told us that the MP refused to let him go to the doctor and kept telling him that he would be alright. He kept getting worse and finally a sister in his ward, who was a nurse told him to go to the doctor and she would pay the doctor instead of the mission. He also informed us that morning that he had lost around 40 pounds, was so sick that most days he was unable to leave his apartment. When I arrived at work, I called the missonary department of the church, and was asked if I would be willing to call back at 2 pm, then there would be a conference call between the brother at the church office, the MP and myself. During the call, the MP agreed to let my son go to the doctor. Less than one hour later, the MP called back, said that he had spoken to the church doctors in SLC, and that my son would be on the next plane back to Utah.

A little more than 24 hours later my sone was home. It appears that the MP not only spoke to the church doctors, but also the church lawyers. His refusing to let my son go to the doctor could have been grounds for a huge law suit if my son had died. He was home for 7 months and finsihed his mission in Texas, where they send all of the "broken" missionaries. - 07/17/2000 - anon

Our mission president had several teenage sons and the second one was a wild one. When his father was released after three years they had a reception to welcome his replacement. They told the new president that J. Golden Kimball once said he'd "Rather go to hell than to Georgia in July."

The new mission president gently replied that he felt so thankful to serving the Lord and he didn't feel that way at all. The second son answered, "That's because it isn't July yet." - 07/15/2000 - anon

One of my Mission President's had a cleanliness fetish. I remember two particular instances where he had stepped way over the line of propriety in the name of cleanliness.

The first time was when we arrived in Amsterdam. He welcomed us as we entered the mission home. The sisters were shown to their room by his wife, and he walked us upstairs to the bunkhouse they had set up for the elders. He showed us the facilities, (shower and water closet were in seperate rooms!) When showing us where the toliet was, he started in on how to urinate.

"Elders, when you have completed your task here, I don't want you flipping little drops all over the floors and walls. Sister L******, shouldn't have to have the housekeeper come up here to clean this bathroom after every group of of elders. Just take a square of toliet paper, and dab the tip. Drop it in the toliet and flush. That's all you need to do!"

The second time was at the second set of Zone conferences we had after coming into the country. He stood up, and excused his wife and the sister missionaries, and then said the AP's had a very important topic to talk to us about. We then received a 30 minute lecture on the importance of using adequate amounts of toliet paper, to prevent skid marks in garments. They then proceeded to explain the true and proper way of wiping.

After the AP's were done, Prez L stood up, and said. "Elders, I don't want to get anymore calls from members about having to deal with your dirty clothes anymore. (Very few public laundries in the Netherlands, and members were volunteered to wash our clothes each week...bring the dirty ones to church on Sunday, and pick up the clean ones on Thursday at the church, right after Relief Society.)

Needless to say, he left a lasting impression on a lot of us! - 07/10/2000 - Broederboy@aol.com

My mission president in Germany was a real piece of work. The missionaries were strictly forbidden to have American armed services members buy anything for them at the PX including food. Yet, the MP would fill up his pantry every two weeks. When he arrived in Germany he was appalled that his car was a VW Rabbit. He said he was the Misson President and couldn't be seen driving it. So he got an Audi instead paid for out of the mission fund that we all had to pay into upon arrival. He redecorated his home again with mission funds and bought his visiting daughter-in-law a fur coat. The mission fund eventually dried up so he sold all of the cars in the mission, outlawed any music except Mormon Taberlacle Choir and then had any missionary that could carry a tune come to the office to make a recording of "fun songs" (he also had a couple of solos) then offered them to missionaries as approved music for $15 a piece. Once we had a zone conference in which we were going to visit some castles (hike up to them and take a tour). It was July and hot but we had to wear missionary attire. He showed up looking like a white trash used car salesman complete with white shoes, checkered sport coat, open collar, colored shirt and lime green pants. He made it clear that the reason he could dress like that was because he was our boss and he could do anything he wanted. One of the AP's was from Germany and knew someone who worked for BMW and so he and the MP set a buisness selling BMW's to Americans in which they could buy them cheaper but the MP got a kickback from BMW. All sports were forbidden except for the MP and office staff who played soccer every Monday. He told one of my companions (who was a zone leader at the time) that the GA's just had to make him a GA so that he could have more control over the German Stake Presidents and they would have to do whatever he said. He was psychotic but made me see the church for what it is...the biggest scam of the last two centuries. - 4/17/2000 - anon

Back in the late 70's I had a mission president in Hong Kong who was actually a great person. He was well respected by all, both missionaries and members alike. His only problem was he couldn't pick his AP's worth a damn! I had entered the mission field extremely naïve about human nature. I actually thought members of the church, and especially missionaries, had integrity, loyalty, and were trustworthy. I even thought they (we) lived spiritual lives, receiving guidance from the Holy Ghost in all we did. Boy, was I wrong! About four months into my ordeal I was assigned as junior companion to a thickheaded native elder serving as District Leader. He didn't have a clue about spirituality, and had no leadership ability or people skills of any kind. To make a long story short, try as I might, we just didn't get along real well. There was also another companionship sharing an apartment with us, also made up of one American elder and one native Chinese elder. They weren't getting along real well, either.

After a couple of months of this, my naivete came up hard against reality in the form of two AP's whose initials were Elder M. and Elder V.

In our mission the alarm clocks were set for 6:00AM. One morning at about 6:00AM and 10 seconds there was a loud knock on our front door. On the other side was AP Elders M & V, and on their way they had picked up and brought the Zone Leaders. The ZL's were looking rather sheepish, like they didn't really want to be there. I always thought it was a rule in the Hong Kong mission not to be out after 9:30PM, or to be out before 6:00AM. It must not apply to AP's and anyone they choose to drag around with them.

Upon entering our apartment, the AP's made themselves at home. We got dressed, had our joint Gospel Study, ate breakfast, then had a short goal setting meeting before hitting the street. At least that's what we thought we were going to do. The AP's took that short goals meeting and turned it into a four-hour mental whip lashing. Then they decided the apartment hadn't been cleaned properly, so we proceeded to perform a very thorough cleaning. After being thoroughly embarrassed, berated, humiliated, and made to feel lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut, I think we finally got out just before or just after dinner that evening. The end result? We American elders learned how to look Elders M and V in the eye put on a big smile and lie through our teeth! "Oh yes, everything's great in our District. We love our companions. The mission work is going great!" All while I tried very hard not to throw up!

I never did trust another AP, and often looked twice before believing a ZL, too. Upon returning to the States and re-entering BYU I soon ran up against the same idiocy (again) in the form of Branch Presidents and Bishops (see The Foyer, BYU Bruhaha, 08/10/1999 - KJL). Not long after that I took up brewing beer as a hobby. It is much more fulfilling.

Our new mission president was an older Samoan guy who had lived in Utah for many years and he did not have a very good attitude towards us American missionaries. One morning right after we got up, about 6:00 a.m. he took us over to the church gym. He set up a chair on top of a table so we could reach the support bar holding the basketball standard. He told the 8 of us working in the mission office at the time that if we could do more pull-ups collectively than he could, he'd let us go anywhere in the mission, do anything we pleased, get up whenever we wanted, etc. But if he could do more pull-ups than all of us put together, then we'd have to "work or little asses off" and do everything he told us to do with no complaints.

I did about 10 and a couple of the others could do no more than 6 or 7. I think our grand total was about 30. The Samoan MP cracked off 50 pull-ups as easily as if he was peddling a bicycle down a hill. Then he let go with one hand and did another 20 with only one hand! Finally he did 20 more with only the other hand.

He told us that if we had more faith we would be able to do more pull-ups and be able to tract more hours and convert more people. It was as simple as that. (I guess Pres Kimball could do thousands of pull-ups?) Something about the guy scared the hell out of me and I never relaxed until I was on the plane back to America. - 05/10/2000 - Faith and Pull-Ups

After 4 months of my mission in northern Cal I had lost 30pounds and was having a lot of intestinal problems. Some days I was to sick to leave the apartment. I decided to return home so I called the Pres. to see what I needed to do and how soon I could be home.He was very upset that I wouldn't take his offer of working in the mission office and living in the mission home. I told him I could wait till transfers in 1 1/2 weeks he agreed, but the next morning I got a call from him saying I was going home the next day because He didn't want me being a bad influence on the other missionaries. So the next morning the AP's picked me up and we headed to the airport on the way we stopped and picked up the Pres. The AP's were in the front and the Pres. and I were in the back seat he proceded to tell me of a covenant he had made to the Lord when he started his term as Pres. "none of my elders will leave the mission until there 2 years is up"(how nice of him to covenant for me:)well I said sorry and that I was going anyway. He then asked me if the Lord asked me himself to stay would I? I didn't respond right off so he proceeded to tell me how he was the Lords Representitive and that he was asking me to stay. I said Well the Lord would have to heal my illness but then I would... your blessing didn't heal me. the rest of the ride to the airport was very quiet.

One more thing He liked to brag about his wealth, he claimed to have sold his home to Larry H. Miller(Owner of the Jazz)when he left to be the "Prez". - 04/06/2000 - Doug L

This isn't a story about a mission president but it is a story about my old branch president which I always thought was strange and funny.

My older brother and I went to the same Midwestern state university several years apart. I joined the Church while in college and the branch president was one of the professors. As it turned out, nine years before he had been my brother's academic advisor. When my brother met him the first time as a freshman they went through the stock interview--what do you want to major in, when certain required classes would be available, etc. Then, out of the blue, the BP asked my brother if he was virgin! My brother was so taken aback by that rather unexpected question that he momentarily didn't know what to say. He did tell the guy that he wasn't a virgin and I guess it was left at that. The guy had a couple of marriage-aged daughters and there were only 100 Mormons in a 100 mi radius so perhaps he was just scouting for them.

When I was a member there was another Morg who was a professor in the engineering dept. This guy was so santicmonious that even some of the GAs would probably be put off by him. I will never forget an elder's quorum meeting where he very confidently said that it would be useful to study such things as geology since we'll need to know that stuff when we make our own planets someday! I thought they came in a kit of some sort! -03/30/2000 - anon

My Mission President told me that I didn't have a testimony because I told him I didn't think it was right that the MTC records telephone call conversations. - 03/25/2000 - anon

My second mission president was a big businessman before being "called to serve." He began micro-managing everything in true big business fashion. It got to the point where our time was pre-determined for us and broken down into 15 minute increments. Not only this, but assignments became pre-determined for which missionary would cook which meal which day, which missionary would clean which part of the apartment which day, and so on ad infinitum.

To add insult to injury, he was obsessed with statistics and performance, of course. At the monthy zone conferences, he would repeat the old saying that 20% of the missionaries accounted for 80% of the results, then added that in our mission it was more like 30/70, so we were doing better than most. Perhaps he thought he was being motivational, but I for one was among the many who hung their heads in shame, for, work as hard as I might, I knew which percentage I had been pigeonholed into. - 02/01/2000 - drshades

I remember being totally disgusted that my MP took his family waterskiing. I though, "what a hypocrite" we can't swim but he can. I believed he was as set apart as I was. - 02/01/2000 - anon

Comment Section

those are some pretty interesting stories. it's funny when you really think about these people in these stories, what kind of people are they really? many of the stoies seemed like someone had a bad experience with someone then decided that the church isn't true. people like this are always looking for someone or something to blame their promblems on. just to "get out", it's soooo sad. i've seen it happen many times before. those people NEVER had a solid testimony to begin with. if they did they would realize that people aren't perfect but the church is. these people have some seriuos issues to attend to. stop blaming others for your misfortunes and get on with life! - 03/27/2008 - wow!

I served in Perth Western Australia and have nothing but admiration and respect for the man under whom I served. My experience as a stake missionary in Sydney was completely different. When President Eral C. Tingy was released Elder Loren C. Dunn replaced him. Dunn proceeded to scared the snot out of his missionaries and forbade missionaries to dine with members. I remember being in a meeting with Dunn one balmy Sunday morning. It was 105 degrees and the bishop's office had no AC. The bishop asked Dunn if he would like to remove his coart. Dunn replied "no thanks, I'm fine. People freeze to death but I've never heard of anyone sweating to death". The amazing part was literaly not sweating. The rest of us were in our shirts and were drenched. He required the male msiionaried to wear their suit jackets at all times as the tracked Sydney streets in post 100 degree heat.

The obeideint missionaries wore their coats like a burka. He had the missionaroes terrified and convincced that iff they only read their mail on their day off, and fasted often God would bless them with baptisms. What happened was the missionaries lost weight from hunger and heat exhaustion. Later when I was a full time missionary in Perth Elder Dunn was the Regional Representative. He came to talk with our mission and said exactly the same sacry things he said in Sydney. I was petrified because he said "if you do not do absolutely everyting to warn each and every Australian in your area that they must repent and be baptized their sins will be on your shoulders". I was shaken because I was serving in the heroin infested red light district of Perth. We had sailors from all over the world engaging in all sorts of sexual activity and drinking themselves into stupers. I went to speak to my Mission Pres who told me "don't worry, Elder Dunn has a habit of overstating things that only he thinks is correct". In the very same meeting he repeatedly warned us not to record his comments. At one stage he began talking about spiritual transformation. He asserted that as one begins to become more and more like Christ one's whole appearence begins to change and "eventually takes upon the very appearence of Christ". It was an erie moment becuase he raised and stared at his hands while he said it. After I left for my mission in Perth, Elder Dunn's cousin replaced him as Sydney Mission Pres.

The new Mission Pres's name escapes me now but he was suddenly released early and sent home in shame. Apparently he was advising the feamle missionaries not to marry when they got home because they would be his wives in the after-life. One of them wrote a letter to her father who was a stake pres. He informed the GAs and they took action by replacing him with Joseph Wirtlin. The disgraced Mission Pres used to have them kneel and pray for confirmation that they would be his wife just like Dunn had investigators pray on the spot for confirmation that they should be baptized. It has always seemed strange to me that you cannot find anything online about this contraversial wife hungry Mission Pres and his disgraceful beliefs and behavior. - 11/10/06 - Cal

What good does it serve to focus on the these things that are posted if they do not offer a chance to feel confidence in your salvation. If any of you saw this last conference, one of the talks was about not letting the actions of another keep you from the blessings of the gospel. Please respect that there are many who do not have all the answers for you. You must learn to know what is right for you, and have faith in that. I am saddened that so many of you had bad experience. Know that one day, when you are older and the events of your life play before you as you begin to pass; know that you were an impact to this life, and it was up to you what you focused on. Do not remain idle in regret and frustration. You choose your destiny, and the perspective you have on this life, and the works that you do. You decide to believe someone, or decide for yourself. I know that no one is perfect, and that I do not feel bad about it. I also know that I will not let someone tell me what, or who I am. I know who I am, and that I continue to change because I am not yet perfect. It is as simple as a decision to laugh at how foolish I can be. What else should I do in this time of trial? If you follow your heart, you will be fine. Forget these things that set you back and focus on gaining understanding. - 10/06/2007 - anon