Ok. Here is a highly atypical post for this blog, but I’m feeling kind of light-hearted today. So here it goes. This is my missionary farewell from 23 years ago. I was asked also to read it in front of 3,000 missionaries in the MTC. Had a lot of fun with it. Without further ado:
I had been taking Mormonfu for quite a few years now, since I was about eight years old, being trained in the school of Sunday and Seminary. Having had many good instructors and coaches and knowing some great moves and stances, my coach and I decided it was time for my title match. This was not a national title, state, city or even block title. It was something far more important to me and to those who knew me for if I won this I would be able to practice in the celestial dojo with the best masters ever.
As I walked into the locker room I saw my opponent putting his murky black karate uniform on. His name was Lucifer D. Satan. He’d been around for a long time. He was a small, quick, deceptively powerful and an unbelievably dirty fighter.
From the moment I walked in he began taunting me trying to provoke me into not keeping my first estate; trying to make me attack him in the locker room and get disqualified before the match began.
I kept my cool and said, “you putrid particle of pond scum, I do my talking in the ring.”
“I do my talking in the ring,” he mimicked.
As they led us into the ring I could see my small crowd in the top ten rows of the 500 row stadium and could tell it was going to be a rough crowd.
As the referee went over the ground rules, some of the crowd jumped in the ring, knocked the ref unconscious and dragged him away.
As I watched helplessly, the bell rang and the Devil landed a vicious blow to the head, full of hate and malice.
While I lay on the ground, he swung at me with evil rock and roll songs left and right. This took a little out of me but in an unprecedented move I stood and bore my testimony, but he slashed through with a mini-skirt knife hand.
I stumbled back and leaned heavily against the ropes but I acted more dazed than I was and as he came in I spun and nailed him with a church hymn. He struck blindly with a fast car but I blocked with our sputtering Volare station wagon and countered with the power of prayer.
He tried hopelessly to hit me with evil urges but I sidestepped with a family that cared for me and gave an uppercut with the power of the priesthood.
He was bleeding from several places now but as I attacked with a good friend who had a solid testimony of the Word of Wisdom, suddenly he sidestepped and grabbed me with a boring speaker into a sleeper hold. I slid out with a good spiritual Fast and Testimony meeting, but I was noticeably hurt.
He tried to feint with a fishing trip on Sunday but that was his mistake – I don’t fish.
I began to pepper him with quick youth trips to the temple interlaced with baptisms for the dead. He was on the run now as I threw scriptures from the Book of Mormon.
In my haste to finish him off I ran right into a sports on Sunday. I swung with Sister Merrill taping the Wimbledon final for me but I was noticeably stung again and bleeding in a few places.
He attacked strong with drugs and pornography and anything he could lay his hands on, but his arsenal was shrinking quickly.
He thrust with an old one – evil urges and I blocked with a cold shower and hard physical exercise, and counter attacked with the Boy Scout Encampment of 1984.
We both stood back for a second, blood was dripping from both of us. The cleaners by K-mart were going to have a fit.
All of a sudden my inner strength swelled and I hit him viciously with my mission call. I swiped the signature of the prophet Ezra Taft Benson across his forehead and knocked him down.
I now beat on him with numerous interviews with the Bishop and Stake President.
I leaped onto him – saliva flying out of my mouth with spiritual fluidity. I reached back and felt the bulk of my missionary farewell. I swung down with all my might and … To be continued…