Unlike the relentlessly peppy fellows of the Broadway musical, I felt like a failure for most of my two years as a Mormon missionary.
Ever since I was a kid dreaming of going on a mission, I knew what a missionary was supposed to do: make converts. When I left on my own mission at age 19, I even had a feeling — which I took to be from God — that I’d make 84 of them, all gratefully uttering my name in reverential tones to their equally grateful descendants.
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