'Servants of the Lord'

Hunter Avenue is virtually silent on a recent Friday morning. The sky is gray. The air is glacial. It's the kind of morning when most students wake up and hit the snooze button, intending to stay in bed for at least another hour.\nBut Mormon missionaries Elder Stotlar and Elder Rosskopf awoke to their 6:30 a.m. alarm with energy and optimism. For the past year and a half, the 20-year-old men have dedicated each day to spreading knowledge of their religion by going door-to-door and organizing discussions with Bloomington residents and IU students. Mission work requires them to give up movies, music, family holidays and phone calls home. But local missionaries say those obligations are rewarded with a deep spiritual growth.\nAfter digesting breakfast with a daily dose of scripture, they're undaunted by the chilly air and eager to begin knocking on doors to inform people about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.\nStotlar, a tall man with hazel eyes, has lived in Bloomington for four months. He always pauses before answering a question, and when his thoughts surface, his voice is soft and deep. \n"I think in a sense we give up our old life," Stotlar said. "We become servants of the Lord."\nAdding God, subtracting distractions\nUnlike Stotlar, Idaho native Elder Brown has lived in Bloomington for a month. Two weeks ago, he was sent to Terre Haute after only a day's notice. Generally, 10 missionaries live in Bloomington at a time. According to the church's official Web site (http://www.lds.org), more than 60,000 people devoted their lives to missionary work in 2001.\n"When we turn 19, we have the opportunity to go out on a mission," Brown said, his dark brown eyes expressive. "We send papers to the prophet, and he tells us we're going to live for two years. (Elder Stotlar and I) got called to Indiana for our mission." \nBefore beginning their mission, missionaries spend three weeks intensively training in Utah. If they will do mission work abroad, they are required to spend eight to 11 weeks learning another language. Brown said the training teaches missionaries how to communicate.\n"It's a spiritual training and preparation," Stotlar said. "There are 3,000 missionaries at any given time. It's both exciting and exhausting." \nWhen the mission begins, rules envelope their lives. To recall all their requirements, Stotlar pulls out a pocket-size, white book, so worn it's held together with Scotch Tape. He thumbs through it while Brown begins to list activities that are prohibited during a mission.\n"There's no dating," Brown said. "No watching TV. No music -- that's one of the hardest ones. I'm learning to love church music, that's for sure."\nHe laughs at this admission, and Stotlar continues to outline their rules, verbatim from their little white book.\n"I've always been my own boss," Stotlar said. "I've never really had a schedule and have always done my own thing. There are so many rules -- no contact sports, no water sports, no winter sports, no motorcycling, no swimming.\n"There are rules on letter-writing too," he added, explaining they can write to their families only once a week. And they can call home only twice a year -- Mother's Day and Christmas.\n"It keeps us focused," Stotlar said. "If I were to call home, I'd be thinking more about home than my mission work."\nAnother rule: They are to address each other as "Elder" (or "Sister" for women). The two men have been working together for a month and have no idea what the other's first name is.\n"It's a title for those who preach the gospel," Brown said. Their mission is so demanding they don't have time for leisure activities, he added. He misses basketball and swimming, but he misses his family the most, he said. \nHe reaches into his jacket pocket to show a photo of his parents and two siblings; this way they're always close to his heart. Brown said he is sad he won't see his family for another year, but his mission has been rewarding and worth the commitment.\n"It's not always easy to be obedient," he said. "But I know if we are, we will be blessed. There's no greater joy than that -- having the Spirit with us."\nAnswering the door, answering God\nA typical day for a Mormon missionary begins with scripture study shortly after waking up at 6:30 a.m. from 9:30 a.m. until lunchtime, the missionary knocks on doors. He goes door-to-door again until dinner, then again until 9:30 p.m. Lights go out at 10:30 p.m.\nOn this recent Friday morning, Elder Rosskopf and Elder Stotlar plan to walk up and down Hunter Avenue, south of Third Street, knocking only on houses. They hit the apartments last week.\n"Sometimes you have bad days, sometimes decent and sometimes great," Rosskopf said, his round face erupting in a grin. "It just depends. The biggest challenge is keeping a positive attitude."\nRosskopf strolls along Hunter Avenue with lightness in his gait, as if he never gets discouraged or sad. And everyone who walks past him and Stotlar is privy to their positivity. The men greet those who pass with "Good morning, how are you today?" \nNo one is home at the first house they knock on. They try the next door and disappear inside the house for about 10 minutes, although the girl who lives there wants nothing to do with the Book of Mormon.\nThey arrive at a small, beige house and lightly knock several times. \n"Hi, how are you doing this morning?" Stotlar asks, his voice thick with sincerity. After some small talk, Stotlar asks how much the residents know about the Book of Mormon. The two students in pajamas stare back, unsure how to proceed.\nPJ Gindling, a senior, sips his coffee and tells them they're doing fine, but he has a test in an hour. His roommate, James Klaunig, a junior, is a little more forward.\n"Listen, I don't want to be rude, but I'm not really interested and I don't want to waste your time," Klaunig said. "I'm sure there are other people who would be more worthy of your time."\nRosskopf and Stotlar are undaunted by the lack of interest and chat with the students for several minutes. Turns out that Klaunig is from California, just like Rosskopf.\nAnd that's the hook. The missionaries don't immediately launch into a lengthy sermon about the Church or the Book of Mormon. Each time someone answers the door to the missionaries, the men seem interested in how that person is feeling. This morning, people respond to the missionaries' cheerful greetings, even if they have no interest in learning about Mormonism.\n"There are two main elements I love," Rosskopf said. "I love being able to be there to help people change their lives. Also the closeness to God. There's a special closeness that will never exist at another time in our lives."\nThe next house they approach embodies this. A small, elderly man opens his door and invites the missionaries in for a prayer. His house is warm and dimly lit with nearly every inch of the walls decorated with a painting or a photograph of his grandchildren. The three men bow their heads and share a prayer. \nBut 85-year-old Chester Terrell is an active Lutheran. Although he politely listens to Stotlar read a passage from the Book of Mormon, he rejects their offer for a free copy of the book. He points to a paper bag full of books that his neighbor dropped off just minutes before -- he has enough reading already.\nThey give him a postcard, which displays a toll-free number to call if Terrell changes his mind and wants a copy of the Book of Mormon.\nStotlar said it's impossible to quantify the impact they make as missionaries. Although only a handful of people convert to Mormonism each year, many more express at least an interest in learning more, and Stotlar said that is enough to make their mission memorable. \nThey go next door and try again. In two hours, they, like door-to-door salesmen, approach about a dozen homes.\n"But I don't feel like I'm selling something," Stotlar said. "Our religion is something that has brought us a lot of joy and happiness and can do the same for anyone else."\nCreating a missions team\nMormons divide each state into zones, and Indiana is broken up into nine zones. Every six weeks, missionaries gather for a zone meeting. \nEighteen people have met for a zone meeting on a recent Thursday morning at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 2411 E. Second St. The room is a little bigger than an average Ballantine classroom, and pictures of Jesus Christ adorn the walls, the podium and an easel. Gospel piano music wafts through the air, the sound speckled with cheerful, soft-spoken hellos. As more people arrive, their conversations drown out the music. \nElder Rich stands at the podium at the front of the room and begins the meeting by proclaiming he "loves you all very much. You're all wonderful." He tells the group members to open their hymnal book, and they sing, "I Love Thee Every Hour."\nElder Rosskopf then offers a prayer. Everyone bows his or her head, and the room grows so quiet the ticking clock seems deafening.\nAfter some opening announcements, Elder Johnston explains the meeting will focus on being a better missionary. Johnston passes out a handout that charts their collective weekly progress and offers praise. He then hands out the "Five Habits of Highly Effective Missionaries," which lists desire, obedience, love, testimony and faith as essential elements of mission work.\n"Why is desire important?" Johnston rhetorically asks. "Are we willing to get up at 6:30? To sit on a hard chair rather than the bed so we can stay awake and study? Am I here for myself or here for others? I really try to forget myself, but without desire it can't be done."\nJohnston then asks the group about their definition of love, and how they apply it to their mission work. Sister Dewey, who is completing her mission with her husband, is eager to express her thoughts.\n"I left 20 grandchildren at home, which was the hardest part (of starting a mission)," said Dewey, whose sudden tears muffle her words. "But since we've been here we have gained 200 grandchildren and we love you all."\nStotlar sympathizes with Dewey -- although he misses his old life, he said he believes his mission will prove valuable.\n"Sure it's two years, but it flies by," Stotlar said. "I look back at it and wonder where all the time went. It's an exciting time to talk about the gospel of Jesus"