I haven’t even watched “Heretic.” And let’s be real — I probably never will. I mean, I’m still not going into my basement alone after watching a Disney Halloween movie about a mummy last month. A psychological thriller about sister missionaries knocking on the wrong door? No, thank you.
The trailer alone sent my friend Sara and me down memory lane. We both served as sister missionaries — Sara in Estonia, me in Hungary — and we now juggle kids and life in northern Virginia. Watching that trailer, we couldn’t stop thinking about one theme: faith over fear.
The trailer shows two sister missionaries knocking on the door of what turns out to be a predator’s home. Even though it’s fiction and Latter-day Saint missionaries use other methods today to find people to teach, I felt this pit in my stomach as fear oozed back into my memories. Because here’s the thing: knocking on doors as a missionary is terrifying. I did it for 18 months, and it never got easier. Each time I raised my hand to knock, I’d feel this knot in my chest — what’s on the other side? Who’s on the other side?
It turns out, Sara felt the same way. I was so moved as she described the quiet strength that swelled inside her every time she overcame that fear. “It never went away,” she said, “but it made me stronger.” That resonated deeply. There’s something about choosing to walk into fear again and again — not recklessly, but with faith — that transforms you. We both agreed: if we could do that, we could do anything.
But we also had our share of scary moments.
I can still see him vividly. A large, angry man with a darkness in his eyes that froze me where I stood. My companion and I had knocked on his door without a second thought — until it swung open and his rage poured out. I don’t even know if I heard the scream for real or in my head, but I heard someone yell, “RUN!” I turned, and my companion and I bolted as fast as we could. The wind whipped through the trees as we ran, and we didn’t stop until we couldn’t go anymore. To this day, we both swear we heard that voice.
Sara shared about the joy of meeting a woman whose heart was open and eager to hear their message. But the next day, her teenage son threatened them, forcing them to flee. As they swiftly walked away, Sara saw the woman watching through the window, tears streaming down her face.
But for every moment of fear, there were countless moments of connection — moments where people were searching for answers, and it felt like a miracle to them (and to us) when we showed up at their door. These were the deepest connections, opportunities to love and feel God’s presence with strangers. Few words can describe the sacredness of those moments.
I’ll never forget when a young girl named Anikó opened the door and said, “I saw you walking down the street and wanted you to come to my house. And here you are!” Week after week, we sat on the dirt floor of their one-bedroom home, teaching her family of seven. It remains one of the most enriching memories of my life — a moment where I caught a glimpse of God’s love and care for His people.
These moments, both sacred and terrifying, left us reflecting on the women we met as missionaries — women whose hearts were open but whose circumstances kept them from moving forward. I think about the two women I taught English to every week. They were eager to learn, not just language but light. They’d ask questions about why we smiled so much, why we seemed so happy. But their sex trafficker wouldn’t permit them to learn more — just enough English to serve his exploitation. The church building became their refuge, the one place he wouldn’t go. For one hour a week, they felt safe, laughing and learning with us.
In a world where we are increasingly isolated, these moments of connection are more vital than ever. Knocking on doors wasn’t just about sharing our faith — it was about building bridges in a world that often feels so fragmented. Participating in organized religion, in a church community, offers that same gift of connection. The world needs more of this kind of connection, not less.
The reality is that the majority of people believe in God. They’ve felt the love of their Savior in some way. They’ve experienced faith not as weakness or delusion, but as a source of strength, joy, and purpose. Hollywood may think it’s clever to manipulate viewers into siding with the “bad guy,” but in doing so, they miss something profound about humanity: our innate desire to connect with the divine and with each other.
Sister missionaries are often portrayed in films and talked about as naive or helpless, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sara and I talked about how women in the Church are often the backbone of so much that gets done. Things happen because we make them happen. It’s not blind obedience — it’s faith. Faith brings confidence. Faith brings joy.
When we reread our journals from that time, we were struck by how much conviction we had at such a young age. We didn’t decide to serve because it was easy or safe. We decided to serve because we believed deeply in the light we wanted to share. That faith didn’t eliminate fear — it gave us the strength to move through it.
Faith over fear isn’t just a nice idea. It’s a choice we made every day as missionaries. It’s what kept us knocking on doors when we didn’t know what — or who — was on the other side. Hollywood may sensationalize those moments for thrills, but the truth is far more powerful: faith gives us courage to face the unknown, not with recklessness, but with purpose.
So no, we probably won’t watch “Heretic”. But if there’s one thing Sara and I know for sure, it’s this: sister missionaries aren’t defined by fear. We’re defined by faith — and that faith has shaped everything we are today.