I got a text message yesterday asking for prayers for my friend’s missionary daughter. She is having some cognitive dissonance about the church and some doctrines and my friend is in a panic. My friend texted that her daughter’s position is “a difficult and dangerous spot for a missionary.” She’s worried. Her daughter is having difficulty teaching things that she suddenly doesn’t believe in.

I am grateful that my friend reached out because, you see, I had the same experience almost a year ago with my son who was serving in a faraway country. In fact, when I told this same friend last year that my son was coming home and the reasons, she said some really hard and judgmental things to me. Yesterday she apologized. She is now living it. We don’t talk about these returned missionaries who come home early, not because of physical illness or transgressions or mental health. They are not homesick. They are those who feel torn teaching doctrines or ideas that they don’t believe in and are sent home. They are the silent ones. They are invisible.

A survey was done at Utah Valley University that asked why returnees come home early. The most common reasons were:

Mental health (36%)

Physical health (34%)

A previously unresolved transgression (12%)

Disobeying mission rules (11%)

That leaves us a small leftover perentage we don’t know anything about. In this survey, 35 percent of female missionaries returned early and 29 percent of males did. The number of early returning missionaries is on the rise.

This study omits a small percentage that have a different reason for coming home early – one in which my son was a part. I admit we are an unorthodox LDS family. We have taught our children to ponder doctrine, study it out, fast, pray, and get their own answers from God. While that is not unorthodox in itself, we tell them to do that about everything – from polygamy to LGBTQ issues to finding out if each individual member of the apostles should be sustained as a prophet, seer, and revelator. It works for us. We tell them consistently that what is important to us is that they have a deep relationship with Jesus Christ and to work to be able to hear His voice. When my son called last Mother’s Day and explained that he had fasted and prayed and fasted and prayed to get an answer about the newly appointed President Russell M. Nelson and was struggling, I was very proud of him. He was actively seeking an answer. He said that he could not sustain Nelson in General Conference and he could not go out and teach that Nelson was a prophet because he didn’t know. He didn’t want to be a hypocrite. He loved his mission. He loved teaching about the Savior and baptizing others to come to Him. He wanted to teach from the Book of Mormon, explain the Doctrine of Christ and help people understand the Baptism of Fire and Gift of the Holy Ghost, but he did not have a testimony of Nelson. My son was being transferred the following day and told us that he was going to let his new companion know the situation so his companion could teach that part of the lesson.

On Wednesday of that week, I got a call from my son who was sitting with the Mission President in his office. He said he had been there all day. (Later, I heard the awful details of that day). It seemed he had told his companion about his issue. The companion brought him straight to the President. We were told that our local Stake President would be contacting us. Friday morning we had a visit from our Stake President to our home (he hadn’t talked to our son yet), and we were asked to call our son and tell him Nelson was a prophet and to get on with the work. We told our SP that we couldn’t do that and that we believed our son needs to figure things out for himself. He needed time to contemplate. We also said that it wasn’t important to us whether our son had a testimony of a man, but only the Savior. That is what is needed for eternal salvation. There was disagreement. After an hour conversation, our unhappy SP said that our son would be put on a plane that night. And he was. The next day at noon, my glowing, beautiful son was in my arms – happy to see us, but confused and in a bit of a state of shock. They had him in “lock down,” as he explained. He wasn’t allowed to leave the apartment until he was taken to the airport, in case he spoke about his thoughts to prospective new members. We were also put in “lock down,” and warned not to tell anyone publicly of what had happened or “action will be taken against us.” (I’m not making this up).

Now there are more details than this, but in a nutshell, that was it. Nine months of service and sacrifice and eleven baptisms and he came home to silence. Crickets. No missionary homecoming talk. I don’t even know what I expected it all happened so fast. There were a few scattered texts from ward members saying how sorry they were for my son and were praying for him. There was the angry response from close family and friends who told me stories of countless missionaries who did horrible things on their missions and were never sent home, but they had no words to discuss my son’s situation. My son felt no shame at first. Our own Bishop was so kind to him. He was so proud of his mission and the work he did. However, things didn’t stay that way. Soon, the dramatic change of lifestyle and cultural stigmas got to him and he has suffered. Where does he fit in now?

What can we do better as Saints when our children come home early from their missions for what many would label as apostasy? Many missionaries have socially acceptable reasons for returning early such as, “I got sick,” or “I am suffering with depression,” or “I needed to clear some things up,” but the sisters and brothers who are doctrinally searching are labeled and put in a totally different category. No one knows what to do with them or how to speak of them. Hence, they are brushed aside. I would like to see more open dialogue, respect, and understanding about this topic. It’s not that these young adults are just cherry-picking which doctrines to believe, but after contemplating their faith in depth, seem to have completely different viewpoints and perspectives on what is important to them in their spiritual journeys. (See an interesting article here).

I wish my friend could see that her daughter might be in a “difficult” spot, but it is not “dangerous.” Thoughtful contemplation and exploration is an important part of spiritual growth. It is important to wrestle and then discard and then embrace ideas, especially those we hold in our deepest and most sacred spaces. It is something we as Saints should celebrate rather than punish, as salvation is a continual lifetime work. An early return for our children is not “the end.” And if my friend’s daughter is eventually sent home like my son was, I would hope she would be welcomed with open minds and very open arms.