Don't get me wrong - missionaries are called of God and their work is sacred, but two 19 year old boys are bound to irritate each other as they learn to serve. I sometimes felt like I had more than my fair share of "tough to love" companions. I took it as a compliment that the mission president thought I could handle them. Except Elder Moraes. He was the companion I couldn't handle.
Elder Moraes was my second companion in the mission field. I was in Irani and the small town didn't have a lot of members. When Elder Moraes met me in Irani and his first sentence was, "Elder Crawford, how many baptisms do we have this week?"
"Uh, None Elder"
"Huh. Well. How many baptisms are scheduled for later then?"
"Uh, None Elder"
"Well! Then how many investigators do we have preparing to set a baptismal date?"
"None Elder Moraes."
"And how many investigators do we have at all? Any contacts?"
"Not a one. Good to meet you Elder Moraes I'm Elder Crawford. How was the trip?"
"Yes. It's a good thing I'm here. It's time you learned what it means to be a missionary."
And it went downhill from there. As I shared the things my companion and I had been doing to find investigators he shared exactly why those methods were not working and offered his opinion on why we thought we should use them. I was a little taken aback, but interested to see a missionary who knew so much about how to work.We got to work. Just between you and me it looked a lot like what I was already doing. We walked through the town meeting people and inviting them to learn more. When they accepted our invitation we made appointments and taught them at their home. There was just one big difference: No matter how hard I tried I was completely unable to do any of it right. Elder Moraes insisted I share in the work because it would help me to practice. The more I practiced the more I did it wrong. Any spare time walking to appointments was filled with him telling me all the things I had done wrong and how I should have known it was a stupid thing to do.
As the third week approached I was getting tired of it. It didn't take a miracle for me to realize I was not a bad missionary, Elder Moraes was just being critical. I had decided to take it all in stride, but constant criticism wears down your soul. I found myself dreading the walk home at the end of the day. I tried to explain to my companion how tired I was being ridiculed, but as you can imagine this only gave him more things to pick on. I tried criticizing him back to show him how it felt, but it only ended in a war of degrading remarks. Finally with constant prayer I decided to ignore him and serve the Lord without considering his words.
But that is much easier said than done.
On our way to a zone conference we boarded a bus which was full beyond capacity. I found myself squished against the back exit door on the very bottom step. As the bus neared a stop there was a mass of people trying to exit. The only reasonable solution was to step off and let them exit before getting back on. What I didn't realize was that since this was the rear exit door on the bus it closed very quickly to avoid people sneaking on the bus without paying. When the door closed it nearly chopped my foot. Elder Moraes screamed at me through the door that I needed to get on right then.
Needless to say I ran to the next bus stop and found an irate companion waiting for me. It was a twenty minute walk to the zone conference from there. For ten solid minutes my companion told me how incredibly stupid I was and how I couldn't possibly serve the Lord when my brain was absent. After 10 minutes of this I finally turned to him and said a portuguese phrase that translates to "You are a jerk blockhead."
The next five minutes were spent telling me that I would never have the spirit when I used insulting words like that. The five minutes after that were spent informing me that my portuguese wasn't quite right, and I would never baptize people on my mission if I didn't learn the language. By the time we reached the conference I was not in a happy mood. The Zone Leader knew me from before and asked why I had a dramatic mood change. I informed him of what it was like to be Elder Moraes' companion. He sympathized, and promised me that transfers the next week would result in a new companion.
Transfers came. Transfers went. Elder Moraes never changed. I tried everything. I shined his shoes and made him food. I tried changing the subject. I prayed. I tried explaining how I felt. I tried asking him to say positive things as well as negative. I tried pointing out his faults. I tried asking him if we could not talk to each other anymore. I tried telling him I only wanted to discuss doctrine or scriptures. I tried to justify that I was not as flawed as he seemed to think. I tried being perfect and doing exactly what he wanted. I tried doing nothing. I made a point to thank him for his criticism, but ask him not to point out of my flaws with every breath. I tried telling him I was praying and unable to talk to him. I tried the silent treatment. I tried methods for days and sometimes weeks. For a second time transfers came. Transfers went. Elder Moraes never changed.
I consider myself thick skinned and non-violent, but I was starting to hit my boiling point. Elder Moraes had served in the Brazilian army, and he could have taken me, but I think I would gotten in at least two solid punches. I fasted and prayed and kept my cool, but I dreaded every moment of the day. The worst was after appointments when he would detail everything I said when it was my turn to teach. One day after a particularly fierce storm of criticism about the way I walked and the way I sat during discussions we approached a house for an appointment. Although we had scheduled the appointment only the day before I found myself praying that they would not be home. My prayers were answered. I felt ashamed. It was the only time I ever prayed for someone else to lose gospel light for my convenenience. I promised myself I would work to serve the Lord the best I knew how and I it did not matter if Elder Moraes was my companion for the last 20 months of my mission.
One night I realized there was one tactic I had never tried. It was the night we were scheduled to teach Ari and Sandra. They said they had enjoyed the lessons we had been teaching them, but they weren't sure if this was the church they should join. Elder Moraes began to tell them they needed to have more faith. I felt the spirit and I decided to say what was in my heart. I told them that their feelings were not unusual, and that I was glad they were taking what we had to say so seriously. I promised them that they could know that this was the path God wanted them to take, but it would require work: study, prayer, and honest seeking. I testified that as they humbly sought the Lord he would guide them. They thanked me, promised they would continue to seek the Lord, but they asked us not to return until they had made their decision. The look on Elder Moraes' face told me I was in for it.On the walk home Elder Moraes began to tell me that they would never be baptized now thanks to what I had said. He said my little speech made them expect an angel or a personal visitation from the Lord to be baptized. He told me the negative consequences that would come in their life would be on my head from now on. Of course I wasn't listening. I was thinking about the one tactic I had never actually tried. I broke down and cried. I thought of the saddest things I could think of. I remembered the day my cat died, my Aunt dying, and I thought of the past 2.5 months. For five minutes I forced myself to cry and in sobs I told Elder Moraes how I was trying my best and I knew I would never be the kind of missionary the Lord wanted me to be. It was the only night we walked home in silence.
This is the part of the story where I cleverly write some plot twist with a surprise. I'm afraid this paragraph will be a disspointment. I never did my crying trick again - for one thing I felt angry but not despondant. For another I refused to allow myself to be beaten down. It was the last form of rebellion I had. Elder Moraes never apologized, never thought twice, and after three months I was transferred away. His last words were "Elder, go and try to do something better with your mission than what you did here."
As I left I felt no sadness for leaving him. I knew I wouldn't miss him, and I remember pondering on the 7 hour bus ride as to what I should have done. To this day I have never figured out what the right thing would have been to fix that companionship. I felt victorious for having survived three months with him. I finnaly decided maybe - just maybe - not every story has a nice little perfect solution. Not every time has a cool "This was the magic solution to the problem".
Nearly a year later you can imagine my surprise when this story continued. I was transferred into a new district on the eastern edge of Santa Catarina. Elder Coulson was also being transferred into another city in the district. I didn't find out his companion was Elder Moraes until later. Within two weeks I was contacted by the District Leader: "Elder Crawford, I heard you were companions with Elder Moraes, is that true?"
"Yes, for three months."
"Really? Wow. Ok. Can you go on splits with him?"
"Sure."
I felt no trepidation. I had thought about him for a nearly a year. There was nothing he could say to me that would tear me down, nothing that would hurt, nothing that would surprise me.
What he said to me surprised me.
"Elder Crawford! It is so good to see you! It's such a relief to have a really good companion again."
I felt dizzy. Who was this guy?"My current companion is so lame, he doesn't know the first thing about how to be a missionary. I mean seriously! How do they let guys like that go on a mission? Didn't his bishop know that he doesn't have any skills with people and he knows nothing about teaching the gospel. It's been less than a month, but I can tell he won't make it."
Ah yes. That's more like what I remember.
"Why couldn't they be more like you? You were by far my best companion. That's why we were together for three whole months. I wish it would have been longer, but it rare for me to have a companion for more than a month. You knew what missionary work was supposed to be about. I keep trying to help this new Elder but I don't think he'll ever be at your quality. I only have two months left on my mission. I'd really like to finish them with some good work, but I can only do so much when my companion is a incapable of working. It is so nice to be with you again, isn't it?"
So many thoughts. So many things I could have said. He was my worst companion, but I was his best? How awful were his other companions? This was my chance to tear him down - to zing him the way he hammered me for so many months. This was my chance to make him change and stop being critical. But as I opened my mouth I could not tear him down. All I could say was, "Elder Moraes. It's good to see you."
Paul said this to Titus: "To speak evil of no man, to be no brawlers, but gentle, shewing all meekness unto all men." (Titus 3:2) I couldn't be like him. I couldn't decide to fight mean bullying by being a mean bully. The spirit told me this was not a battle that God would support me in.
The rest of the bus trip he talked about families he had taught, his plan after his mission, how wonderful I wan, and how awful his current companion was. I met a missionary I had never known before. It did not take long to realize that the problems with his current companion were not serious flaws, but more criticism. I asked him not to discuss his companion, and we talked about ideas for teaching investigators instead.
After transfers were over the district president pulled me aside.
"How are you handling him? What is the secret?"
"Elder, the secret is to not lose your mission worrying about him. I never found any way to help him be less critical. I do not know why he is like that. But I am glad he did not make me lose my focus, and I will not let him cause friction in our district. What I do want is to talk to his companion. Can you arrange us some time alone?"
It was done, and I met a defeated and ruined missionary. Elder Moraes was his trainer, and he admitted to me that he was on the edge of going home. He said Elder Moraes talked nonstop about how wonderful I was, and how terrible he was. He was not particularly interested in meeting me since I was a perfect missionary and I would obviously make him look terrible. I believe I actually laughed.
As I told him the stories I wrote above he interrupted with things like "Yes! That is exactly how it is!" "He said that to me! He's said that before!" and "You mean he was exactly like that with you?" When I told him my most shameful moment of praying that an investigator would be absent he admitted he had been praying for a debilitating illness. He asked me how I had made it for three months. I encouraged him to not worry about trying to change him. I encouraged him to just let his words bounce off him. I promised him it would not be that way with other companions.
I have always wished I could know what the right thing would have been to do with Elder Moraes. Looking back I now am glad I went through the experience. I have met people in my life who needed some major personality overhauls. Elder Moraes taught me that pointing out someone's flaws is not always the best direction. It can tear them down more than build them up. I believe this is one reason the Savior said, "And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?" (Matthew 7:3) It also may be beyond my power to change them. I have the power to change myself, and to find ways to improve my own life. One way I have tried to improve my life is by learning not to let criticism tear me down.
