So, why a mission?

Well, this is it. I’m about to embark on an incredibly amazing, incredibly difficult 18-month journey. In just a few short hours I will be set apart as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. After spending six weeks in the Missionary Training Center learning as much Spanish and teaching skills as possible, I’ll get on an airplane and fly to Argentina where I’ll spend the remainder of my mission. I will get two phone calls home a year, on Christmas and Mother’s Day. My only source of contact with my family and friends at home will be through letters and emails, which I’ll only be able to check once a week. The other six days I’ll spend knocking on doors, talking to people in the streets, visiting member and less-active families, serving others whenever possible, walking several miles a day, praying, studying, planning, celebrating, crying, pleading, singing, laughing, and rejoicing – all so I can share the precious message of the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ with people I have never met and would never meet under any other circumstance. Now why in the world would I choose to do such a thing?

I thought this post would serve as a good prequel to the series of entries that will come throughout my mission, updated on my behalf by my wonderful mother. I want to share how I came to know that serving a mission was something that I really wanted to do, and more importantly, something that God wanted me to do.

A mission was never something that was expressly written into my plans. In high school it was a big maybe, like “Maybe if I’m not doing something else (read: married) when I’m 21 (the age for sister missionaries at the time – now it’s 19), I’ll go on a mission.” Then in college it turned into an “I don’t think so and I don’t think that’s what God wants for or needs from me anyway.” To be fair, I didn’t just come up with that on my own. A couple months before I turned 21, and right before the mission age was lowered to 19 for women, I started considering serving a mission. I still didn’t really want to go, but I resolved that if Heavenly Father wanted and needed me to serve, I would gladly go. This was during a time of enormous spiritual growth for me and I knew that I could share His Gospel with excitement, conviction, and love. Then one day during church I had a very distinct impression/thought that Heavenly Father had a different work for me to do and that I should not serve a mission at that time. I won’t pretend that I wasn’t relieved. I didn’t really want to go, and now I knew I didn’t have to go. My reasons for not wanting to go weren’t exactly the best. I feared missing out on some other opportunities (finishing my accounting degree, getting an internship/job with the Big Four, meeting Mr. Right), and I didn’t want to miss out on life in general here. I was really enjoying myself, my friendships, my schooling. I was relieved to be able to let the thought of a mission go.

Then a few months later it all seemed to make sense why I wasn’t meant to go. I was dating this boy. He was amazing; his family was amazing. I thought, “You know this might actually work out. It just fits so well.” Life was wonderful. Fast forward a year or so and we were engaged. I was over-the-moon happy. I could not believe how lucky and blessed I was.

A month later my world came crashing down. Our engagement was over. I was left wondering what in the world I should do now. I had lost everything that was so dear to me. The future looked so bleak. I just didn’t understand why I would feel so good about something for it not to work. Why did I keep moving forward so confidently with something that would ultimately end so painfully? I knew I had to figure something out because I was graduating in a couple months. I had accepted a job offer in Salt Lake, thinking I would be staying there while my husband finished school. I had done an internship in California so I thought about going back there. I had a lot of friends going there, which could make it easier and more fun. But I just couldn’t wrap my brain, or my heart, fully around the idea. Staying in Salt Lake didn’t feel any better, but that’s where I was headed if I didn’t figure something else out.

Shortly after breaking up, the thought of a mission popped into my head again. I didn’t really give it any merit though, because I realized I was in desperation mode. Going on a mission to escape from my problems was not a good reason to go. Nevertheless, I didn’t completely shove the idea from my mind. It was an option to consider, but one that would take a considerable amount of thought and prayer. Over the next few weeks I learned some very tender lessons from a loving Heavenly Father, which I actually wrote about in my previous post (click HERE to read those). These really set the stage for my decision to go. The most important thing I learned, for myself, was that I love my Heavenly Father and my Savior more than anything or anyone, and I wanted to do Their will for me. Like really, really, really wanted to. I realized that, for me, the best way to demonstrate my love and my willingness to follow the Savior was to give up 18 months of my life, hand myself completely over to Him, go where He wanted me to go, and focus completely on His work. I would give up my job, my friends, my family, and the pursuits I enjoy. I would give up my imagined, or maybe real, opportunities that I saw in the near future. But at this point, I knew that what I would be giving up was so unbelievably small compared to the blessings I and others would receive. Absolutely it would be worth the sacrifice.

What sealed this desire though was actually a funeral I attended. Her sons told stories of the faith this woman exhibited, including serving a mission. I knew that her daughter-in-law had served one as well, and her granddaughter, a friend of mine, was out serving at the time. What a legacy of missionary work there is in that family. I decided right there that that kind of legacy is something I want in my own family.

The burning desire was there, and the following Sunday I met with the Bishop and started my mission papers. I still hadn’t received any sort of confirmation that this was what God wanted me to do, but I made my decision and moved forward with it. During the process of filling out my papers I came to know, without a doubt, that I had made the right decision. This was exactly what God wanted me to do. The joy, peace, and excitement were undeniable. I could not wait to be on a mission. I could not wait to be teaching, serving, and loving those people. When I received my mission call to the Argentina Bahía Blanca Mission I again knew that this was exactly where the Lord needed me. Can you tell I’m just a little thrilled to be doing this?

I still don't understand why everything had to happen the way it happened. Maybe it was the best way Heavenly Father could instill in me a desire to serve a mission. Maybe this boy needed to learn something and I was the one Heavenly Father needed to help him grow. I really don't know the answer. But that really doesn't matter. What I do know is that going on a mission is the right path for me to take right now. I believe it is what Heavenly Father wanted for me all along, and through His loving guidance it has become what I too want for myself.

In answer to the question posed at the beginning, I chose to go on a mission because I love God and His Son, Jesus Christ. I love the plan of salvation They have prepared for us to return and live with Them again. I want to spend every day for 18 months sharing that message with others, in a place where God needs me to share that message. I know my call was divinely inspired. It is no chance that I am going to Bahía Blanca, Argentina. The Lord knows that I will grow the most there, as well as do the most good there. This is His work, and I am privileged and honored to be a part of it. I am in no way suggesting that those who choose not to serve missions love God any less than I do. A mission is a very individualized choice. Everyone’s plan is different, but the goal of all our plans is the same – to become like our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, our Savior, so that we can live with Them again, and enjoy the kind of lives that They do. I testify that They live and that They love each and every one of us, with a love that cannot be fully comprehended. You are a child of a loving Heavenly Father. You are His work and His glory. You matter to Him.

Con mucho amor,

Hermana Chipman