Teaching with our Feet in the Dirt

Scott-

Kathy and I have been out teaching with our missionaries. Mostly, we listen to them teach and wait for a nod when it’s our turn to add something. At first, I worried that our presence might overwhelm investigators—five people converging on their home: two missionaries, one local ward member, and us. But they aren’t overwhelmed at all. They seem honored to have us in their very modest homes or sitting on their front porches.

Missionary discussions have changed a lot since I served in Australia in the early 80s. Back then, we had a limited number of memorized discussions that we worked through one at a time in precise order. That’s not the way it’s done any more.

Our missionaries in Sierra Leone might teach people 30 different lessons over several months. At each lesson they follow up on the prior lesson, teach one simple concept, and invite them to do something, like read a chapter in the Book of Mormon or attend church. If they didn’t read the chapter assigned during the last lesson, our missionaries might just sit with them and read the chapter, one verse per person around the circle, pausing every few verses to explain it. Many of the lessons they teach are designed to answer a question from the prior lesson. The lessons run just 10-15 minutes long. No one is hurried. At recent zone conferences we talked about teaching simply. Our missionaries practiced teaching simple lessons in less than five minutes. It felt like they were learning to develop and deliver elevator speeches.  

The style of teaching we use slows down the process to ensure they understand what is being taught and are more converted prior to baptism. It requires a lot of planning on the part of our missionaries. Many of them spend an hour every morning organizing their lessons for the day.

I took the picture above after a lesson with the woman hugging Kathy. We had just sat in this woman’s front yard on a short, old wooden bench and plastic chairs set in a circle, our feet in the dirt. The yard felt like community space. Yet it felt private. The weather was nice. Everyone was out. Neighbors walked past, swept their front porches with sticks, lingered. But no one seemed to notice us. Nothing was out of place. Just a group of people talking about God and reading the Book of Mormon on a July afternoon. What could be more normal.