I was mulling a couple different ideas for this week’s blog and I read an article that made the decision for me. Deseret News recently came out with their latest in a series of articles about teenage anxiety. This particular article was on early return missionaries. You can read the entire article here. I’m grateful for these types of articles as they promote dialogue on a difficult topic facing many young Latter day Saints.

Let’s go back some. I grew up the youngest of six kids. I was the spoiled one. I don’t know if I was any more trustworthy, or if I was any more obedient, or if my parents were just tired when I was a teenager, having raised six kids, and just starting to foster a younger set of four siblings, but I don’t really remember having a curfew, or rules that were strict and I always had a truck to drive. That always bugged my siblings. My parents were the best. Mom was justice, Dad was mercy. We experienced so much of life from them, and they are truly saints. They had six kids; two girls, then four boys. My dad never went on a mission and it always bugged him. He drove the importance of a mission to each of us boys. Even my oldest sister was set on going on a mission before she met her husband. Two of the three of my brothers went on missions. There was pressure to go and serve. It was a topic that came up enough that we knew what the expectation was.

I attended a semester of BYU-Idaho, which was somewhat of a family school, with 6 out of the 8 members of my family having attended at least a semester. I turned 19 and it was expected I would go on a mission. I had taken a Russian language class, as well as a Mission Prep class, where we were expected to memorize passages of scripture. This was my first time away from home and I wasn’t too focused on school, and often attended church with friends. But, I put my papers in, not really internalizing what I was signing up for. I was called to Samara, Russia. Everyone was excited for me and I started to prepare. Let me tell you, if you are starting to prepare for a mission after you’ve received your call, you’ve procrastinated it far too much. I spent 10 weeks in the MTC, which was spiritually edifying and was the first time I really started forming an idea of the kind of missionary I would like to be. I also started to realize how much I didn’t know. I loved the Gospel, but I’ve never been one to try and teach something I didn’t really know myself. I had lots of the Church theory under my belt, but the practical experience wasn’t there.

I remember one evening in the MTC, our district went around talking about each other’s strengths and weaknesses. It was an effort to learn and grow. I cannot remember my strengths, but the common theme when talking of my weaknesses was my commitment level. That I might testify of Christ, but then be okay with someone rejecting it. Maybe it’s my upbringing, or the fact that I live in Canada amongst a plethora of cultures, or maybe it was my testimony of Agency, but I was totally okay with someone rejecting my testimony of Christ. That was their right. They would be exercising their agency. At that time, I decided what kind of missionary I would be. I wanted to be someone who would discuss the things of God, who would serve, and who would testify of gospel truths but not be overbearing. I try to be that person today. I learned about the power of fasting, and the power of hymns. My favourite hymn is “I Need They Every Hour.” My district sang it for the entire MTC as part of an evening devotional. I was asked to lip sync. I knew I wasn’t a good singer, but it made my worship through song no less valid. I feel like my standing there and mouthing the words wasn’t genuine, and it didn’t sit right with me. I did mouth the words, and I still love that song to this day and I believe it was a microcosm of the kind of missionary I was asked to be in the field.

Anyway, I made it to Russia. The culture shock was one thing. But moreso than the Russian culture shock was the mission culture shock. My trainer was great, he was also the district president and he worked with me in companionship study and language study. I spent Ten weeks in Russia before I decided it was time to pull the plug. I had a couple experiences in the field that ruined my opinion of missionaries, and I had some unresolved repenting to do. When I tried to deal with them, I felt like I was being let off easy, or maybe the confession was being taken too lightly. This affected my opinion of the Mission President. On top of that, I had hurt my back and was struggling with the daily routine of missionary service. I recall listening to my companion call a Taxi driver to repentance for having two wives. The man was Muslim. It was a natural thing for him. I couldn’t be this kind of missionary, chastising people for how they were socialized. I remember another elder talk about the mission and how they would get a car if they served a mission, admitting to not being into the work, but their family expected them to go, so they would take this two year adventure to Russia, get home, and have a new car. I couldn’t be this kind of missionary either. I realize now that these were wedges that I allowed to come between me and my missionary service. What was unfortunate and probably more of a personality quirk than anything, is I didn’t let on to anyone that I was struggling. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I struggled silently, until I couldn’t do it anymore and I made the decision, and once I make a decision, I tend to commit.

When I announced I was going to come home, my Dad begged me to stay, and I dug my heels in. The Mission President faxed me talk after talk from Jeffrey R. Holland about the importance of missionary service and I dug my heels in. Friends called and emailed trying to convince me to stay, and I dug in. My trainer pointed out that with all the trials I had experienced that first few months, Satan definitely didn’t want me serving, that I would be an instrument in the Lord’s hand in Russia. That one almost got me. I almost broke. It reminded me of my Patriarchal Blessing and the two paragraphs that spoke of my mission. But then the Mission President talked to me and after our discussion, I was definitely going home. Not that it was the Mission President’s fault I came home, but where my trainer was compassionate and caring, the Mission President was business-like, letting me know that my family would have to pay for the flights and that he’d never had a missionary choose to go home before.

When I got home, I prayed. My biggest concern with this decision was that I would still be an active member. I would still live up to my potential. I prayed often, reading scriptures, and had some very special spiritual experiences in that first week home. I met with the Stake President as part of my coming home. He took away my temple recommend because of my unwillingness to serve a mission. That was the first time I thought I might not be welcome back at home.

One of my brother’s had returned from his mission a short time before I did and we both moved to Lethbridge, a small fairly predominantly Latter Day Saint city in Southern Alberta. The main reason for the move wasn’t the looks and questions I got in my home ward about being home, about it being too hard for me, about not really having a testimony. I learned early not to worry about what anyone else said, that the only people I would worry about were my family. But something had changed there too. My dad looked at me differently for a little while and that hurt more than anything some random member could say. Maybe he didn’t think there was a wedge, but there was. I don’t blame my dad for struggling with my return, he begged me to stay and I didn’t. The wedge would go away over time and with distance. Anyway, Lethbridge was a breath of fresh air, despite the occasional question about why I wasn’t on a mission as a 19-20 year old, life was pretty good. I lived with two of my brothers and some friends. Also, I had a Bishop in YSA who explained that I had only missed out on an opportunity for growth, that it was not a requirement for salvation or a commandment. That helped alot, still does to this day.

About a year after I came home, I met the girl who would become my wife. When asked if I regret coming home from my mission, I will always say no. If I had not been home, I might have missed the opportunity to meet my wife when I did. To regret is to not like where you are in life, and I love my life. I love my wife, my children, my job, my friends. My circumstances are a result of the choices I have made and one of those choices was to come home early, so how could I regret it.

The one thing that bothers me though, is the two paragraphs of my Patriarchal blessing that talk about the people I would serve on my foreign mission. The changes and growth I would experience, and the life I would live as a result. How much of my Patriarchal blessing had been irreparably been altered. I read somewhere that to have your calling and election made sure, all you have to do is look at your Patriarchal blessing and see how accurate it is. If that’s the case, then I am in trouble. But, I love my family and where I am in life, so I am choosing to do my best, and let the chips fall where they may.

I have served in various capacities in the church, but not in the callings listed in my Patriarchal blessing, except as a teacher, which my blessing lists as the most important calling I will serve in. I have taken this as a victory, I will teach whenever I can. I have worked with young men who haven’t served and young men who have come home early, and I ask them 3 questions followed by a statement. Do they believe in God? Do they believe God loves them? Do they believe in the Gospel of Jesus Christ? Then I tell them to forget the rest. Forget the members, the callings, the expectations the judgment. If they can focus on what they know about the Gospel, that is enough. God doesn’t expect us all to be equal or to serve equally. He asks us to serve. If that service doesn’t come on a mission, who is to question it. “Spiritual experiences have little to do with what is happening around us and more to do with what is happening in our hearts.” And the condition of your heart is between you and the Lord.

I’m 35 years old. I’m old enough and seasoned enough that I can stand up and speak out about expectations the Church or Parents or Leaders place on Young Men or Women. That these expectations are dangerous. I don’t get hurt feelings very easily. But I have seen the damage caused by a hurtful statement. I have seen the judgmental looks. I have seen the lists that Young Women are encouraged to make when looking for a spouse, #1 is usually ‘Returned Missionary’. I am grateful for a partner who has experienced enough of life to know that no one is perfect, and has accepted me in all my unpolished glory. These things don’t bother me because I’ve passed those experiences by, but there are many who have not, who are still being judged on what they have not done.


I’m grateful to a Saviour who has taken the burden of opportunities lost away from me and loves me regardless of my flaws and shortcomings. I’m grateful for wise leaders who have helped me along in the Gospel, gently nudging and reminding me of the things I could be doing. I’m grateful to leaders who expressed gratitude for what I could offer. I’m grateful for my 5 month mission and for the experiences and growth I have had since entering the MTC and am equally grateful for the growth I’ve experienced since coming home early. I appreciate Jeffrey R. Hollands comments about coming home early, he said, “When someone asks you if you have served a mission, you say yes. you do not need to follow that up with, ‘But it was only four months.’ Just forget that part, and say yes you served a mission, and be proud of the time that you spent.” I will no longer qualify my mission service. I served. That is enough.

If anyone asks me, I would say that every young man and every young woman who wants to serve a mission, should definitely serve a mission. If they don’t want to serve at 18, or 20, or 22, that’s ok too. We should accept all who serve and in whatever capacity that is. Not choosing to serve a mission, or choosing to come home early does not disqualify anyone from eternal blessings and from the Love of God. Let us treat each other as brothers and sisters. Let us encourage and uplift, help and bouy each other. In short, let us treat each other as God would have us treat each other.

~ Todd Bruce

(edit… A few thoughts I’ve had since I submitted this write-up… I don’t want this blog to take away from those who had great missions or were great missionaries, nor do I want it to reflect poorly on the Russia, Samara mission as there were great Elders and Sisters there too. I don’t want this to seem like I had to come home, it was a choice. I hardly had it terribly rough. I wanted to reflect on my lack of preparation and effect since. Also, I am grateful to the friends and family who called and urged me to stay on my mission, they were coming from a place of love, I would’ve been mad at them if they made no effort. When I came home, I don’t blame people for being caught off guard and want to talk to me about it. But it was tough on 19 year old me to handle when I was already on shakey ground. For the record, I currently live in the ward I grew up in, so everyone has gotten over it:), I’m also sorry if my coming home took away any of the thunder of my brother just returning, but I’m grateful he was part of my support network.)