As I step into the room, I drop my suitcase on the floor, my duffel bag sliding off my shoulder and falling on top of it. Six bunk beds are crowded into the tiny space, each bed made neatly with a thin comforter stretched tautly across the mattress. It reminds of the dorm rooms I’ve seen in movies and TV shows throughout the years. Except, instead of posters of half-naked women and sports stars adorning the walls, there are pictures of Jesus Christ. Instead of math books and dirty laundry strewed about, there are scriptures and pamphlets about the church.

So, yeah, it’s just like a dorm room—if the dorm room were in a parallel universe where teenage boys read the Bible and The Book of Mormon instead of play video games and drink beer.

Welcome to the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.

Elder Scott, the leader of the district I’ve been assigned to, points to the bottom bunk on the left side of the room, indicating I should put my stuff there. All the missionaries in this district of the MTC are going to be serving in the California Los Angeles mission or somewhere in the vicinity. We’re split by the area we’ll be serving in, by the language we’ll be speaking, and, of course, by sex. The sister missionaries are housed in a separate part of the MTC with clear guidelines of what will happen if those borders are breached after hours.

I pick up my bag and toss it onto the bed before leaning over to grab my heavier suitcase with both hands. Elder Scott bends over to help, and together, we lift the monstrosity onto the bunk.

“You can hang your suits in the closet,” he says, pointing to a tiny accordion door next to the beds on the right. “Each of you has one drawer in the dresser. Yours will be one up from the bottom. Go ahead and get your things unpacked. I’m going to head to Elder Burke’s class and see if I can borrow Elder Daniels. He’ll be your companion while you’re here.”

Without another word, Elder Scott turns and exits the room, leaving me in the silent, foreign room by myself. An all-too recognizable pang fills my chest as I look around, and once again, I’m left wondering if I’ve made the right choice.

It’s just nerves, my inner Jiminy reminds me, trying to soothe my budding panic.

Or it’s the fact that you’re a total fraud, and you have no business being here, his less than delightful counterpart retorts.

I shake my head as I sit down on the edge of the bed, grateful for the moment alone. It might be the last one I get for the next two years. Once your companion is assigned, the two of you stick together like the pages of a dirty magazine.

I chuckle softly at my poor attempt at a joke, but then guilt immediately sets in at the thought, considering my surroundings. I can almost feel Jesus’s disapproving eyes boring into me. So, instead of lifting my head to meet his gaze, I unzip my suitcase and begin to unpack my things.

The room is too quiet, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall. It looks like the ones you’d find in a high school classroom, a place where I spent most of my time for years. It is a slight comfort, seeing the familiar clock face. Time passes the same way here as it did in the classroom. And I somehow managed to endure thirteen years of that. Two years in the mission field should be cake.

After a few moments, Elder Scott returns with a tall, lanky beanpole of a guy standing next to him. He introduces the man as Elder Daniels before leaving the two of us to get to know one another.

Elder Daniels looks like he should be on the After poster for acne medication. His skin is clear of pimples, but the scarring on his cheeks is awful, some of the pockmarks so deep that I’m pretty sure I could fit my finger inside one if I poked at it. But the smile on his face is friendly, and the warmth in his eyes as he extends his hand to me quickly overshadows any flaws in his appearance. The guy looks positively joyful at the prospect of meeting me.

“Nice to meet you, Elder Barker,” he says with a surprisingly deep voice.

I take his hand, trying my best to give him that firm missionary handshake I’ve been practicing over the past few weeks. I’m still not sure I have it down, but I have been working on it.

“Likewise, Elder Daniels,” I respond, noticing the slight quiver in my voice.

From the look on Elder Daniels’s face, it doesn’t go unnoticed by him either.

He grins at me. “Nerves still getting to you, huh?” he says lightly, his tone jovial instead of judgmental.

Some of the tension leaves my shoulders as I exhale. “Is it that obvious?” I say with a smile, running my hand through my closely cropped hair.

Elder Daniels’s smile spreads. “Just a little bit. But probably because I was in the same boat myself just last week. I thought I was going to crap myself on my first day. It’s so different here, you know? Compared to what I’m used to at home. I had to realize I wasn’t in Kansas anymore pretty darn quick; that’s for sure.”

I chuckle, relief at his words spreading through me. If he felt these things just last week and already seems so at home now, maybe there’s hope for me after all. Surely, all I’ll need is a few days here, and the spirit will guide me and help me through.

Elder Daniels grabs some of the suits I carefully packed into my suitcase, the garments folded gently around the hangers they’ll reside on, before stepping over to the closet and hanging them for me. When he turns, he smiles at me again. He just might be the happiest person I’ve ever met in my entire life.

“So, where are you from, Elder?” he asks as he grabs another armful of clothes.

I have to stop myself from telling him to call me Jaden. For the next two years, I’m Elder Barker. This is something else I’m having trouble getting used to. We’re not allowed to use our first names, not even with each other. We forgo our Christian names and are simply referred to as Elder out of respect for the work we’re doing, for we’re all equal in the Lord’s plan.

All pawns in the church’s game, Jafar grumbles in my head.

I shrug off the thought as I turn back to Elder Daniels, hoping the longer I’m here, the quieter Jafar will become. “Right here actually. My parents live in Lehi, just about twenty minutes north of here.”

He nods. “Must’ve been nice, growing up around here with so many people who share your values.”

You have no idea. So nice being told what to believe and having any questions met with admonishment rather than being welcomed and explained.

Shut up, I snap back in my head. Where the hell is Jiminy? Who left Jafar unsupervised with my thoughts? Today is not the day for him to run rampant in my mind.

“Where are you from, Elder Daniels?” I ask, trying to distract myself from my conflicting thoughts.

“Kansas,” he says with another smile.

“Ah, so when you said you weren’t in Kansas anymore, you weren’t just quoting Dorothy?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nope. Though I did have a dog named Toto when I was growing up. No red heels though. Never did learn how to walk in them.”

For some reason, this strikes me as incredibly funny, and a laugh bursts past my lips as I imagine Elder Daniels with his lanky frame and awkward limbs attempting to walk around in red sequined heels. I’m sure Elder Scott wouldn’t find the idea of one of his missionaries cross-dressing nearly as funny as I do.

The next ten minutes pass quickly as I finish unpacking my belongings. Elder Daniels and I spend the time asking each other questions, the banter between us growing easier by the minute. I find out his family has only recently joined the church, his parents making the decision when he was fourteen. He can remember every single one of the lessons the missionaries taught him, and he’s been anticipating this moment ever since.

“I admired them so much, you know? They had so much faith, so much wisdom, even though they were only four years older than I was at the time. I couldn’t wait until that was me. I wanted to be able to bring someone as much joy as those two men brought to my life. And, now, it’s finally my time. I finally get to enrich others’ lives by bringing them the gospel.” He speaks with such passion, with so much conviction, that it’s hard to imagine anyone closing the door in his face.

Elder Daniels is going to be a great missionary, his story of conversion being a powerful connector to any potential investigators. He’s been where they are. He’ll be able to bridge that gap, unlike those of us who have been lifelong members.

Strike one against me.

I also learn that, in his free time back home, he likes to build computers. Yeah, not just play games on them. Actually build the dang things. Some of the words he uses make my head spin, and I realize Elder Daniels is way smarter than I’ll ever be.

Strike two.

And, when he’s not reading the scriptures or creating ultimate gaming machines out of spare parts, he spends his time at an animal shelter where he bathes, feeds, and walks all the animals nobody wants.

So, basically, this guy is everything I’m not.

Strike three.

I tell him a little about myself, but it feels like nothing in comparison to his extracurricular activities. I play a little basketball with friends sometimes. I was on the debate team but was never any good. I’m pretty sure they only let me on the team to fill a spot. And, when the weather is nice on the weekends, I like to spend as much time as I can up in the mountains—camping, fishing, four-wheeling. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing just as long as I’m outside.

Elder Scott returns while Elder Daniels is telling me about the one time he went camping and ended up with poison oak all over his body. He smiles when he sees the two of us laughing together, Elder Daniels reenacting the way he itched for days after his run-in with the plant.

“Glad to see you boys are starting to bond. That’s good; that’s good. Your companion in the field will be your closest confidant. It’s great to start preparing for that now.”

It’s unlikely that Elder Daniels and I will ever be companions in Los Angeles, but it’s not impossible. He’s been here a week, which means he’ll probably be leaving in just a few short days. English-speaking missionaries only spend about two weeks at the MTC, not needing the added time other missions require when there’s a second language involved. Even then, those missionaries are only here about eight or nine weeks, just long enough to learn the essentials of the language needed to be able to communicate with the residents of whatever country they’re being sent to.

It’s a crash course on religion, teaching, and proselytizing, and the next two weeks of my life are going to be intense. I realize the fun is over when Elder Daniels gets to his feet, and he and Elder Scott indicate that I should follow them out of the room.

Within five minutes, I’m settled behind a desk, my combination Bible, The Book of Mormon, and The Doctrine and Covenants open in front of me. I glance around the room at my fellow missionaries. Their heads are bent over their scriptures as they listen to the Elder at the front of the room, their hands furiously underlining and highlighting along with what he says.

I lower my head to my own scriptures, my eyes scanning the page until I find the verse he’s reading from. Popping the lid off my pen, I begin to underline, making notes in the margins when he says something that strikes me as important to remember.

And, just like that, I’ve become a Mormon missionary.