Fear and Loathing in Southern Siberia

Story time.

In 2003, I was a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in central Russia. I'd been in the country for about a year, having spent time in Krasnoyarsk and Novosibirsk (the center/HQ of our mission). I'd had some really great companions, met so many amazing and fun and delightful Russians and had a very smooth time overall.

Not everyone in Russia was receptive to hear the Gospel message we tried to teach.

In the summer of 2003, I was in the city of Omsk. My work companion at the time, JL Van Zyverden and I were walking in the area around the bus stop near our apartment. Three guys came up - maybe late teens, early twenties - and asked us if we were Americans. Yes, we said. They asked us if we were Mormon. Again, yes.

Out came the mace - Elder Van Z and I each flinched enough that the spray didn't get in our eyes, only the side of our face.* Immediately we took off running. Except for my slow self we might have gotten away, but the punks eventually caught up and started pushing us around.

Enter another group of young men, equally as sketchy looking. See, in Russia, it's not uncommon to see youths, especially males, going about their lives without much direction, just sort of existing rather than thriving or building something for themselves (though there are SO many incredible Russians who are the opposite, who take what life gives them and turn it into so much more). On literally any other day, I would have seen this second group of youths and not given them a second thought, judging them to be more losers headed nowhere in life, based solely upon how they looked and their demeanor.

But this day, the first time in my life I had been truly and literally attacked for my beliefs, they stepped in to help. They got the punks off us, smacked them around, ran them off, then stayed with Van Z and me until we caught our breath. We thanked them repeatedly, and when we'd regained our composure we took a cab home.

I learned two lessons from this moment. The first, you might guess, was about judging others. Guys who I would have written off any other day became our saviors in that moment. Maybe we could have fought the punks off, but maybe not (I bet Van Z could have, that dude was FIT, but not so sure about myself). But we didn't have to because this other group stepped in.

Maybe they wanted to really help, maybe they just wanted to smack some punk kids around. Regardless, I learned something valuable that day.

Elder Van Zyverden and I with the Makhmudov family (the sister on the right had just been baptized)

The second lesson came in the days after. See, as I said, this was the first time I was attacked, and it happened so close to where we lived, and I was afraid. I was truly afraid for the first time in my life. What if they came back? What if it happened again? What if they brought more than mace the next time?

I didn't want to leave the apartment. I didn't want to to the missionary work I was called to do. I did, thanks in large part to Van Z's confidence, but I hated every second of the fear I felt while I was out and about, and couldn't wait to get back to our apartment and lock the doors.

Eventually, after maybe a week or a little less, I couldn't hack it. I called up Elder Thomas Tucker, who with his wife were a senior missionary couple in Omsk. Van Z and I had become very close to them**, and he was the closest thing to a father or grandfather we had access to in person, and I needed that (we'd talked to our mission president about what happened, he was just hundreds of miles away in another city). 

I told Elder Tucker all about what happened and about the fear I felt, about how it was almost paralyzing for me. He, in turn, shared some incredible insights and very personal experiences about how he came to learn the Lord is at the helm and will not leave us to drown in our fears, anxieties or doubts. He then gave me a priesthood blessing, which was among the most beautiful and powerful I've ever received, and filled me with the light and peace of God and which helped me start to understand everything will ultimately be okay.

Glenda and Thomas Tucker, two of the greatest people I've ever gotten to know

My fear didn't go away altogether immediately, but it started to diminish significantly, and within a short time I was back to my doofy missionary self (and, for Van Z, super-annoying, probably).

What I learned is to trust in people - trust in their inherent goodness and so much more often than not, you won't be disappointed - and to trust in the Lord, who is able to save and so willing to walk with us along whatever paths we find ourselves on, be they mild and bearable ort awful and terrifying and overwhelming. He will never leave us alone, He will never take His eyes off us, and He will be with us always. One of my favorite hymns, "Be Still, My Soul," has one of my favorite lyrics that never fails to move me when I sing or think about it:

"Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below."

Maybe the winds and waves are light and small, but often they're large and strong and threaten to blow us off course. I know they still know and cannot but obey the Lord's voice, who speaks on our behalf more than we know.

#LightTheWorld

*Fun aside - we each got the mace in our eyes as we tried to wash it off, and it was straight AGONY. 15/10 would not recommend.

**I cannot overstate how much I love Thomas and Glenda Tucker. They absolutely became like a third set of grandparents to me, and every moment we had with them was a true joy.