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| Source As we follow that Man of Galilee—even the Lord Jesus Christ—our personal influence will be felt for good wherever we are, whatever our callings. |
My dear brothers and sisters, both within my view and
assembled throughout the world, I seek an interest in your prayers and your
faith as I respond to the assignment and privilege to address you.
More than 40 years ago, when President David O. McKay
extended to me a call to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, he warmly welcomed
me with a heartfelt smile and a tender embrace. Among the sacred counsel he
extended was the declaration, “There is one responsibility that no one can
evade. That is the effect of one’s personal influence.”
The calling of the early Apostles reflected the influence
of the Lord. When He sought a man of faith, He did not select him from the
throng of the self-righteous who were found regularly in the synagogue. Rather,
He called him from among the fishermen of Capernaum. Peter, Andrew, James, and
John heard the call, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” 1 They
followed. Simon, man of doubt, became Peter, Apostle of faith.
When the Savior was to choose a missionary of zeal and
power, He found him not among His advocates but amidst His adversaries. Saul of
Tarsus—the persecutor—became Paul the proselyter. The Redeemer chose imperfect
men to teach the way to perfection. He did so then; He does so now.
He calls you and me to serve Him here below and sets us
to the task He would have us fulfill. The commitment is total. There is no
conflict of conscience.
As we follow that Man of Galilee—even the Lord Jesus
Christ—our personal influence will be felt for good wherever we are, whatever
our callings.
Our appointed task may appear insignificant, unnecessary,
unnoticed. Some may be tempted to question:
“Father, where shall I work today?”
And my love flowed warm and free.
Then he pointed out a tiny spot
And said, “Tend that for me.”
I answered quickly, “Oh no, not that!
Why, no one would ever see,
No matter how well my work was done.
Not that little place for me.”
And the word he spoke, it was not stern; …
“Art thou working for them or for me?
Nazareth was a little place,
And so was Galilee.” 2
The family is the ideal place for teaching. It is also a
laboratory for learning. Family home evening can bring spiritual growth to each
member.
“The home is the basis of a righteous life, and no other
instrumentality can take its place or fulfill its essential functions.” 3 Such
truth has been taught by many Presidents of the Church.
It is in the home where fathers and mothers can teach
provident living to their children. Sharing of tasks and helping one another
set a pattern for future families as children grow, marry, and leave home. The
lessons learned in the home are those that last the longest. President Gordon
B. Hinckley continues to stress the avoidance of unnecessary debt, the fallacy
of living beyond one’s means, and the temptation to let our wants become our
necessities.
The Apostle Paul’s exhortation to his beloved Timothy
provides the counsel that will enable our personal influence to find lodgment
in the hearts of those with whom we associate: “Be thou an example of the
believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in
purity.” 4
When I was a boy, our family lived in the Sixth-Seventh Ward
of the Pioneer Stake. The ward population was rather transient, which resulted
in an accelerated rate of turnover with respect to the teachers in the Sunday
School. As boys and girls we would just become acquainted with a particular
teacher and grow to appreciate him or her when the Sunday School superintendent
would visit the class and introduce a new teacher. Disappointment filled each
heart, and a breakdown of discipline resulted.
Prospective teachers, hearing of the unsavory reputation
of our particular class, would graciously decline to serve or suggest the
possibility of teaching a different class where the students were more
manageable. We took delight in our newly found status and determined to live up
to the fears of the faculty.
One Sunday morning, a lovely young lady accompanied the
superintendent into the classroom and was presented to us as a teacher who
requested the opportunity to teach us. We learned that she had been a
missionary and loved young people. Her name was Lucy Gertsch. She was
beautiful, soft-spoken, and interested in us. She asked each class member to
introduce himself, and then she asked questions which gave her an understanding
and insight into the background of each. She told us of her girlhood in Midway,
Utah, and as she described that beautiful valley she made its beauty live
within us and we desired to visit the green fields she loved so much.
When Lucy taught, she made the scriptures actually live.
We became personally acquainted with Samuel, David, Jacob, Nephi, Joseph Smith,
and the Lord Jesus Christ. Our gospel scholarship grew. Our deportment
improved. Our love for Lucy Gertsch knew no bounds.
We undertook a project to save nickels and dimes for what
was to be a gigantic Christmas party. Sister Gertsch kept a careful record of
our progress. As boys with typical appetites we converted in our minds the
monetary totals to cakes, cookies, pies, and ice cream. This was to be a
glorious event. Never before had any of our teachers even suggested a social
event like this was to be.
The summer months faded into autumn. Autumn turned to
winter. Our party goal had been achieved. The class had grown. A good spirit
prevailed.
None of us will forget that gray morning when our beloved
teacher announced to us that the mother of one of our classmates had passed
away. We thought of our own mothers and how much they meant to us. We felt
sincere sorrow for Billy Devenport in his great loss.
The lesson this Sunday was from the book of Acts, chapter
20, verse 35 [Acts 20:35]: “Remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said,
It is more blessed to give than to receive.” At the conclusion of the
presentation of a well-prepared lesson, Lucy Gertsch commented on the economic
situation of Billy’s family. These were Depression times, and money was scarce.
With a twinkle in her eyes, she asked: “How would you like to follow this
teaching of our Lord? How would you feel about taking our party fund and, as a
class, giving it to the Devenports as an expression of our love?” The decision
was unanimous. We counted so carefully each penny and placed the total sum in a
large envelope. A beautiful card was purchased and inscribed with our names.
This simple act of kindness welded us together as one. We
learned through our own experience that it is indeed more blessed to give than
to receive.
The years have flown. The old chapel is gone, a victim of
industrialization. The boys and girls who learned, who laughed, who grew under
the direction of that inspired teacher of truth have never forgotten her love
or her lessons. Her personal influence for good was contagious.
A General Authority whose personal influence was felt far
and wide was the late President Spencer W. Kimball. He really made a difference
in the lives of countless individuals.
When I was a bishop, the telephone rang one day, and the
caller identified himself as Elder Spencer W. Kimball. He said, “Bishop Monson,
in your ward is a trailer court, and in a little trailer in that court—the
smallest trailer of all—is a sweet Navajo widow, Margaret Bird. Would you have
your Relief Society president visit her and invite her to come to Relief
Society and to participate with the sisters?” We did. Margaret Bird came and
found a warm welcome.
Elder Kimball called on another occasion. “Bishop
Monson,” he said, “I have learned that there are two Samoan boys living in a
downtown hotel. They’re going to get in trouble. Will you make them members of
your ward?”
I found these two boys at midnight sitting on the steps
of the hotel playing ukuleles and singing. They became members of our ward.
Eventually, each of them married in the temple and served valiantly. Their
influence for good was widespread.
When I was first called as a bishop, I discovered that
our record for subscriptions to the Relief Society Magazine in the
Sixth-Seventh Ward had been at a low ebb. Prayerfully we analyzed the names of
individuals whom we could call to be magazine representative. The inspiration
dictated that Elizabeth Keachie should be given the assignment. As her bishop,
I approached her with the task. She responded, “Bishop Monson, I’ll do it.”
Elizabeth Keachie was of Scottish descent, and when she
replied, “I’ll do it,” one knew she indeed would. She and her sister-in-law,
Helen Ivory—neither more than five feet tall—commenced to walk the ward, house
by house, street by street, and block by block. The result was phenomenal. We
had more subscriptions to the Relief Society Magazine than had been recorded by
all the other units of the stake combined.
I congratulated Elizabeth Keachie one Sunday evening and
said to her, “Your task is done.”
She replied, “Not yet, Bishop. There are two square
blocks we have not yet covered.”
When she told me which blocks they were, I said, “Oh,
Sister Keachie, no one lives on those blocks. They are totally industrial.”
“Just the same,” she said, “I’ll feel better if Nell and
I go and check them ourselves.”
On a rainy day, she and Nell covered those final two
blocks. On the first one, she found no home, nor did she on the second. She and
Sister Ivory paused, however, at a driveway which was muddy from a recent
storm. Sister Keachie gazed about 100 feet (30 m) down the driveway, which was
adjacent to a machine shop, and there noticed a garage. This was not a normal
garage, however, in that there was a curtain at the window.
She turned to her companion and said, “Nell, shall we go
and investigate?”
The two sweet sisters then walked down the muddy driveway
40 feet (12 m) to a point where the entire view of the garage could be seen.
Now they noticed a door which had been cut into the side of the garage, which
door was unseen from the street. They also noticed that there was a chimney
with smoke rising from it.
Elizabeth Keachie knocked at the door. A man 68 years of
age, William Ringwood, answered. They then presented their story concerning the
need of every home having the Relief Society Magazine. William Ringwood
replied, “You’d better ask my father.”
Ninety-four-year-old Charles W. Ringwood then came to the
door and also listened to the message. He subscribed.
Elizabeth Keachie reported to me the presence of these
two men in our ward. When I requested their membership certificates from Church
headquarters, I received a call from the Membership Department at the Presiding
Bishopric’s Office. The clerk said, “Are you sure you have living in your ward
Charles W. Ringwood?”
I replied that I did, whereupon she reported that the
membership certificate for him had remained in the “lost and unknown” file of
the Presiding Bishopric’s Office for the previous 16 years.
On Sunday morning Elizabeth Keachie and Nell Ivory
brought to our priesthood meeting Charles and William Ringwood. This was the
first time they had been inside a chapel for many years. Charles Ringwood was
the oldest deacon I had ever met. His son was the oldest male member holding no
priesthood I had ever met.
It became my opportunity to ordain Brother Charles
Ringwood a teacher and then a priest and finally an elder. I shall never forget
his interview with respect to seeking a temple recommend. He handed me a silver
dollar, which he took from an old, worn leather coin purse and said, “This is
my fast offering.”
I said, “Brother Ringwood, you owe no fast offering. You
need it yourself.”
“I want to receive the blessings, not retain the money,”
he responded.
It was my opportunity to take Charles Ringwood to the
Salt Lake Temple and to attend with him the endowment session.
Within a few months, Charles W. Ringwood passed away. At
his funeral service, I noticed his family sitting on the front rows in the
mortuary chapel, but I noticed also two sweet women sitting near the rear of
the chapel, Elizabeth Keachie and Helen Ivory.
As I gazed upon those two faithful and dedicated women
and contemplated their personal influence for good, the promise of the Lord
filled my very soul: “I, the Lord, am merciful and gracious unto those who fear
me, and delight to honor those who serve me in righteousness and in truth unto
the end. Great shall be their reward and eternal shall be their glory.” 5
There is one, above all others, whose personal influence
covers the continents, spans the oceans, and penetrates the hearts of true
believers. He atoned for the sins of mankind.
I testify that He is a teacher of truth—but He is more
than a teacher. He is the Exemplar of the perfect life—but He is more than an
exemplar. He is the Great Physician—but He is more than a physician. He is the
literal Savior of the world, the Son of God, the Prince of Peace, the Holy One
of Israel, even the risen Lord, who declared:
“I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall
come into the world. … I am the light and the life of the world.” 6
“I am the first and the last; I am he who liveth, I am he
who was slain; I am your advocate with the Father.” 7
As His witness, I testify to you that He lives! In His
holy name—even Jesus Christ, the Savior—amen.
References:
1. Matt. 4:19.
2. Meade MacGuire, “Father, Where Shall I Work Today?” in
Best-Loved Poems of the LDS People, comp. Jack M. Lyon and others (1996), 152.
3. First Presidency letter, 11 Feb. 1999; quoted in
Liahona, Dec. 1999, 1; Ensign, June 1999, 80.
4. 1 Tim. 4:12.
5. D&C 76:5–6.
6. 3 Ne. 11:10–11.
7. D&C 110:4.
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