Mormon missionaries spread faith in the Bible Belt

CHESAPEAKE

Elder Neal Rappleye stood in the doorway of a Chesapeake home, knocking until the homeowner appeared.

Rappleye, a 20-year-old from South Jordan, Utah, had a message he wanted to share about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The man on the other side of the door interrupted.

"This is Southern Baptist country," he told the Mormon missionary. "You're going to have a tough time."

So Rappleye and Elder Davis Van Wagoner moved on, hoping to find someone receptive to the words of the restored gospel of Jesus, his prophet Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon.

"In the Bible Belt, it's tougher," Van Wagoner admitted as he walked door to door in a cold rain. A few houses later, a large, barking dog standing on its hind legs greeted the missionaries through a glass-paned door.

"This is our opposition - dogs," Van Wagoner said. "It's like everyone in Virginia has one."

Such is the routine of a missionary who sacrifices two years away from home to spread the gospel in unfamiliar places. It is a rigid religious commitment of scant meals and housing, and days starting at 6:30 a.m.

Not everyone is welcoming to the men in their trademark dark pants, white dress shirts and ties.

"Sometimes people are hospitable," Van Wagoner said. "I did have one lady who threatened to sic her dog on me."

This day, a Monday, started at dawn with Rappleye curling dumbbells for his required morning exercise in the living room of a small, second-floor apartment. Van Wagoner, 21, of Riverton, Utah, showered down the hall.

A tape by one of the church's 12 apostles filled the air with messages of atonement and missionary work. Area maps dotted the walls. Board games such as "Sorry," "Monopoly" and "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" were stacked under a table.

A sign near the door read: "Return with honor."

Rappleye settled on a breakfast of juice, banana, toast and a bowl of Honey Buzzers, a knock-off of Honeycomb cereal. Van Wagoner had Cap'n Crunch's Peanut Butter Crunch.

Their time, from 8 to 10 a.m., was spent in study and prayer. Then they were out the door, praying beforehand on where to go.

One place they won't go is the beach, at least from April to October.

"We have rules against the beach because there's a lot of temptation, I guess," Rappleye said.

They avoid "worldly influences." Home by 9:30 p.m. In bed by 10:30 p.m. On Christmas and Mother's Day they call home, the few times they get to speak with family 2,300 miles away. Van Wagoner did get special permission to call home the day before his sister married.

Any music must be church-produced. There's no television; no newspapers.

"We're pretty much cut off," Van Wagoner said.

Missionaries do face dangers. More than two years ago in Chesapeake, one missionary was fatally shot and another wounded as they walked door to door. Those events are few.

"A lot of it is just putting your trust and faith in the Lord that all of you will be protected," Rappleye said.

On the streets, Rappleye has had his pants leg gnawed by a dog. He suffered scrapes and needed stitches to close his lip once after he was hit by a car while biking in Portsmouth.

He spent three weeks at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, with about 3,000 others preparing for this day, he said. His older siblings and father served before him.

A brother went to Lithuania and another served in the Miami area. His sister was sent to the Czech Republic.

Rappleye has served in the Outer Banks, Richmond, Charlottesville, Portsmouth and Chesapeake.

"There's an excitement about starting this opportunity, but at the same time it's pretty scary," Rappleye said.

There are 53,000 young missionaries currently combing the world, including 170 who cover parts of Virginia, said Mark Millburn, president of the Virginia-Richmond Mission. Males are eligible to serve at 19; females at 21.

"It's hard work," Millburn said. "If you think about it, they work all day until 9:30 at night, six and a half days a week."

"No one gets paid to do this," Millburn said. "They finance their own way and serve out of love for the Lord and their fellow man."

Rappleye's family paid a typical sum of about $10,000 to finance his mission. He's baptized 12 people. Van Wagoner has baptized seven.

"I guess it's an OK number," Van Wagoner said.

Rappleye will go home in August and wants to attend Salt Lake Community College. He hopes to someday teach on the university level, he said.

Van Wagoner also wants to continue his education when he goes home in July.

"I'm going to go home, go to school, look for a job, look for a wife and start a family," he said.

They hope their two-year commitment will be a positive on their resumes and standing in the community.

Missions are tradition but not required. Van Wagoner's brother didn't serve. Many Mormons don't. And there's no set goal for bringing people into the church.

"Success isn't measured by the number of baptisms," Millburn said. "There's no quota. The whole purpose that drives them is to share the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and to tell the world that the heavens are once again open and that God speaks through living prophets in our day."

In the church back in Utah, young people discuss missions all the time, Van Wagoner said. They look forward to the day they are sent out.

"It's like a tradition growing up," he said. "It's talked about. I remember as a little kid looking up to the missionaries. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world."

John Hopkins, (757) 222-5221, john.hopkins@pilotonline.com