A New Bishop

It was an eventful weekend in my ward. Not only did we have ward conference, a favorite meeting for me because I love to be taught by my bishop and stake president, but our good bishop was released, together with his counselors.

I felt an unusual tenderness that day. Part of it is knowing a bit how the newly released bishop feels, having been there twice myself. The closeness one feels to his counselors and to ward members changes with the release in a way that is difficult to describe. The passing of the mantle of bishop is very real, and being without it is something one has to get used to.

Part of it is the release of this particular bishop – a man we’ve known for years. He served as ward clerk when I was bishop. Our sons have been in the same classes in church for fourteen years. His wife has taught our daughters piano. They are good friends of ours. And he was an awesome bishop. He humbly faced his responsibilities as bishop and worked tirelessly to meet the needs of the members of his ward.

All bishops work harder than anyone realizes. Even harder than they themselves realize. I can remember hearing him talk about meetings and visits and service and phone calls from a particular weekend and thinking, “How could one person do all that?” And then realizing that I’d done the same thing when I sat in that chair. Just as any bishop would. And every bishop does.

No, he wasn’t perfect, I suppose. But don’t ask me how. I could not tell you. What I do know is he was a humble servant of the Lord and servant to our ward. He was firm in his testimony, firm in his command of the gospel and its principles, firm in defense of truth, and firm in his leadership. At the same time, he was kind and compassionate. When I served on the ward council with him for a time, I observed that he actively sought the views of all the council members. He regularly led out praising ward members for the good work they did.

We live in one of those wards with lots of leadership experience and potential. I have joked that you can’t swing a dead cat in our ward without hitting an ex-bishop, and it’s true. Our ward contributes its membership to many stake callings, as well. I’m sure that there are probably many men who could serve as bishop.

I’m glad to know our stake president is careful enough to listen for whom the Lord has called to serve as our new bishop. As soon as his name was read, it was easy to see the Lord’s hand in his call. He will certainly be different from our former bishop, and that is just how it should be – different gifts for different times. But there is no doubt in my mind that he also will serve faithfully and carefully. He is thoughtful, prayerful and faithful. He’s also a friend, and our home teacher (or was, anyway; I suppose maybe that will change).

Of course these changes are now well institutionalized in the church. We have processes to follow, forms to file, permissions to receive. And still I know that at the heart of that effort is the revelation to properly authorized servants to call others to serve. And I’m grateful for that organization, and for the service that results from it.

By the way, if you like, you can check out my latest post at Real Intent, "In the Tunnel" here.

The other mission

I’ve written recently about how happy we are that one of our daughters has chosen to serve a full time mission. It is exciting news and it’s an exciting time as we (and by we I mean my lovely wife) help to get her ready to leave in a couple of weeks.

At the same time I’ve reflected on another daughter who chose not to serve a full-time mission. Her decision was not taken lightly. She had many friends who served and she worked at the MTC in a support function, so she had plenty of thoughts about missions and missionaries at that time. But as she prayerfully considered whether to serve, she felt it wasn’t the right thing for her to do.

Of course there is nothing wrong with her thinking, either. Instead she finished her degree at BYU, and during those last years there served in a Relief Society presidency in her ward. After graduation she began working for a magazine in Northeastern Pennsylvania. She attends a very small ward of the church (what would probably be a branch if it were a new unit), and presently she serves as the Young Women’s president.

Because of who she is, my daughter throws herself completely into her service. She is working hard to shepherd the few young women in her charge, to learn how to be an auxiliary president (actually, she’s really good at it), to live by example as she works to complete the Young Women Personal Progress program (again; she did it when she was a young woman, too), to support her bishop and other members of the ward council, to attend the temple whenever she can (whether as a leader on a youth trip, or for her own temple service), all on top of doing her best at her job and trying to live a gospel-centered life.

While she did not serve a full-time mission, there is no doubt she is serving as hard now as she would be if she had. Having lived in these small units before, I know the value of having young energetic people move in to liven things up, bring new perspective, and just maybe reach one or two people who otherwise wouldn’t have been reached. As her parents, we know (because she tells us) how hard she works in her calling, and how much physical, spiritual and emotional energy she invests in the young women she serves. And we are pleased that she is so willing to serve; surely it would be easier to sit back and enjoy her chosen forms of recreation rather than working so hard. We are grateful that she recognizes that blessings don’t necessarily flow from the easy path, but rather from the path of service.

I’m reminded of my parents who never served a mission. They were in their 30’s when our family joined the church. By the time they were old enough to serve a senior mission together, they were serving so much in their stake that perhaps going on a mission would have provided a rest! In one stake, Dad served on the high council and was responsible for all the family history centers in the stake, and Mom was the director of one of those centers. When they retired again, Dad quickly because branch president in his rural unit of the church (and for a while he served simultaneously as branch president and branch mission leader). Mom served in a variety of callings during those years, too. Coincidentally I served with a brother several years later who was a bishop in my parents’ stake at the time Dad was branch president; he thought my parents were a senior missionary couple! Although they never served a full time mission, their service was as valuable as any senior couple’s would have been.

Elder Uchtdorf taught us several years ago to lift where we stand. Yes, some will be called to distant shores to preach and lift and serve. And others will serve quietly at home. My lovely wife and I are of an age where we’ve begun to look forward to a senior mission or two or three. We dream of serving in a temple or in family history or in some exotic location. Whether and how we serve will certainly be influenced by our own preparations, financially, physically and spiritually. But it may also be influenced by local needs wherever we live at the time.

I Need A Hero (or do I?)

My 14-year old son has taken a liking for movies about unlikely heroes. With the help of his Clear-Play DVD player and Netflix, he’s watched Schindler’s List and Hotel Rwanda. In both, unlikely heroes surface to do something they would not have assumed they could do beforehand.

In sacrament meeting last week, one of the speakers talked about Ester and her being in the right place at the right time to serve her people in a heroic way.

I think stories of accidental heroes appeal to us because they reflect on the innate goodness of someone to do the right thing, and that the right thing may have a significant impact. (I’d be tempted to quote 1 Nephi 16:29 in which we read, “And thus we see that by small means the Lord can bring about great things,” except that I’ve always been struck by the irony of that statement. The liahona may have been small in size, but certain not in technology or impact!)

I don’t know if my son wonders if he will be an unlikely hero someday, but he does like to be the one to buck the system in his teenage version of righteous indignation (just like his father, some might say). It’s striking to me that according to the book (I’ve never seen the movie) Oskar Schindler seemed to be an unremarkable man before and after his work to save Jews from the Holocaust. Paul Rusesabagina, the real-life hotel manager and hero in Hotel Rwanda seems to have done the only thing he could at the moment – to save the lives of over 1,000 people in his war-torn city.

My mother told her own story of heroism, though she never couched it in those terms. One morning she set out to do her visiting teaching and came to the home of one of the sisters on her list. The door was open, and the woman was passed out on the kitchen floor. My mother entered the house and called an ambulance, and probably saved the sister’s life (the sister certainly credited Mom with that). My mother would say all she did was what anyone would have done. And she points out she was only doing her visiting teaching, not responding to some remarkable prompting to go on that particular day.

Bertolt Brecht did not accept larger than life heroes, and did not write them into his plays. In Galileo, the title character is presented as decidedly human. One of my favorite moments in the play is when Galileo explains to a student that a scientist proves nothing is true. In fact, he says, the scientist creates a hypothesis and then does all he can to prove it wrong. Only in failure to prove himself wrong does he believe he has found truth. This anti-hero succeeds in failure.

The Savior’s teaching about the first being last and the last being first, the leader being the servant, and the unlearned being wise suggests that the prideful view of hero-as-pinnacle is probably not the celestial view. Indeed the Savior’s most heroic act was one no mortal witnessed (as those closest to him slept).

Perhaps it is not good for us to try to be heroic, but to be, as President Hinckley taught, the best we can be. If we do, it is likely that along the way we may be heroic to someone, as my mother was, and maybe to many.

Don't we (already) have an app for that?

We believe in the same organization that existed in the primitive church, namely apostles, prophets, pastors, teachers, evangelists, and so forth. (Articles of Faith 1:6)

Most people who have been around the church for a while get a pretty clear view of how things work. The global organization is pretty centrally run – First Presidency, Quorum of the Twelve, Seventies. Locally we have stake presidents and high councils, and bishops in our wards.

At the retail level, in the wards and branches, the heavy lifting is done in the day-to-day work of priesthood quorums and Relief Society. Quorums help folks move, cut lawns and trim trees for widows, visit and bless the sick. The Relief Society sends in meals, helps families in crisis manage home duties, and does its own work of visiting the sick and needy.

Some of this work comes by assignment in a ward council or priesthood executive committee meeting. Some is arranged by presidencies who see needs and fill them. Some is simply performed quietly by visiting teachers and home teachers who see needs and meet them. And some is done by caring neighbors who don’t wait for an assignment to be actively engaged in a good cause.

Still, in nearly every council of the church I’ve participated in at the ward and stake level, we’ve taken up the question of how to reach The One, how to rescue One Who Has Gone Astray, how to reach out to Youth In Need, how to build testimony where it is weak and how to lift up those hands that hang down. Sometimes I’ve led those discussions.

From time to time there will be a new program of choosing some number of families for a quorum or group to consider prayerfully for reactivation, priesthood advancement or temple preparation. Once in a while auxiliary and quorum leaders will be asked to identify in presidency meetings those who need extra attention and concern. And all of that is good. One doesn’t have to spend much time in President Monson’s recent biography to remember the value of reaching for The One.

What’s interesting to me, however, is that President Monson’s example is not in the creation of a new program. It’s in his personal efforts to reach out to The One. His visits to hospitals. His calling on his widows. His personal interviews. His hallway and sidewalk conversations.

Many times as I’ve sat in those ward and stake meetings, I’ve thought, “Isn’t this what home teachers are for?” (In fairness, I should as often have thought, “Isn’t this what visiting teachers are for?” but I didn’t for two reasons: first, I’m not a woman, so my thoughts don’t automatically go to visiting teaching, and second, in every unit of the church I’ve lived in, the visiting teachers ran circles around the home teachers, so -- right or wrong -- I automatically assigned deficiencies to home teaching.)

How much work of rescuing could be done by home teachers if they would just do it? And how much is being done? Probably a lot, over a long period of time.

Two examples:

1. A brother I know came back to church a few years ago after having been away nearly 30 years. His home teacher had visited him faithfully for years (like 5-10 years), and when he finally decided it was time to come back, he knew where to come because he knew his home teacher.

2. Another brother was my 20-something son’s home teacher. This particular son hasn’t been to church in nearly 10 years. This brother home taught him for a couple of years after my son moved out of our house on his own. My son moved from our town three or four years ago, but every time my son is in town, this brother arranges to have lunch with him. He’s still shepherding him, even years after his home teaching assignment ended.

I served a few years ago in a bishopric with a counselor who would regularly bring us back to what the Lord has given us instead of trying to reinvent the wheel: “Couldn’t the home teachers do that?” “Couldn’t we do that in ward council instead of having a special meeting?” “Does Brother Smith already have a connection to someone in the ward with whom he’s comfortable? Wouldn’t that be a good place to start?”

It wasn’t that this counselor was trying to squash innovation. He was happy to be guided by the spirit to do new things. But as often as not, the spirit guided him to use the tools the Lord had already given us.

A consecrated life -- an example from the front lines

One of our sacrament meeting talks this past week referenced Elder Christofferson's "A Consecrated Life" (from October 2010 conference). As I listened to the talk in church (our speaker focused on Enoch as an example), I thought of other examples.

The first that sprang to mind was my own father. He was not a perfect man, but he was a good man, an honest man, a hard working man. My father was a convert to the church in his early thirties. He and my mother had four children (I was the youngest) and were doing their best to rear us in a good way. Dad worked professionally as an engineer, and they were active in their Presbyterian church.

When my father heard the gospel, he accepted it as we all did. He had a struggle to give up certain habits that were not consistent with church membership, but he did it. He developed the faith to pay his tithing. And he dedicated himself to service in his new church.

During those years of young and growing children, Dad worked more than he wanted to, was away more than we wanted him to be, and still served faithfully wherever he was called. He was not the most eloquent high council speaker, but he was sincere and devoted to the Lord. My mother often helped him with research for his talks, and I traveled with him on multiple occasions over his years of service. He was diligent in his other assignments, whether shepherding his assigned ward (which he attended every week) or planning a youth conference, establishing family history centers, organizing stake temple trips or whatever else he was asked to do.

He worked hard to provide for us. His traditional thinking firmly rooted him as provider and protector of our family, and provide he did. He also repaired and improved our home, and enjoyed laughing with his kids. At some family nights, when we had all reduced ourselves to giggling uncontrollably after singing many, many hymns (at his insistence), he would finally suggest that we let Heavenly Father in on the joke as we said family prayer.

He taught me mostly by example, rarely by lecture. He encouraged me to believe I could do anything if I worked hard enough, and that I should not assume deficiencies in myself. He warned me the night before my wedding that my new bride should finish her degree or he would be most disappointed.

About the time I left on my mission, my parents moved with Dad's work to West Africa, before the church sent missionaries there. That time away from the mainstream church (my folks held a sacrament meeting in their living room each week for themselves and another expat or two who would attend at times; later, after the revelation on the priesthood, the senior missionary couples would sometimes join them) gave my father a chance to rethink and renew his commitment to living the gospel and serving in the church. Upon his return to the US, he also returned to service on the high council, and I heard him speak in a ward conference the week I came home from my mission.

Even in his most senior years, he served. In retirement he was a branch president in West Virginia, serving many hours each week to meet the needs of his little flock. (He was released after a stroke disabled him for a time.) And years later from his assisted living facility in Michigan, after my mother's death to cancer, he traveled with another member of the high priest group leadership monthly to the Chicago temple to work as an ordinance worker.

I don't know that he was a great scripture scholar. I don't think he considered himself a great teacher. And his approach as often as not was decidedly pragmatic rather than mystical.

But if he had something to give, he gave it. If he could serve, he did. And I would do well to follow his example.

My father passed away three years ago this week.

On new missionaries

Another nephew entered the MTC this week, and one left the MTC for his field of labor. How cool is that? I'm glad that these young men, who come from great families and are well prepared, will serve missions. They are part of a tradition in our extended family that includes many, but not all, of their similar aged cousins.

I'm excited for them because of what they'd do and what they'll learn. Their serving causes me to reflect on my own missionary service. And it causes me to reflect on the missionaries who taught my parents and me over forty years ago. And it reminds me of young men and women whom I interviewed as a bishop several years ago prior to their serving.

The rite-of-passage missionary service can be a remarkable thing in the life of the missionary, especially if the blessings to the missionary are incidental to his or her efforts. It was true on my mission and it is true now in my life: some of my greatest lessons come when I least expect them, and some only upon reflection of what has already happened.

I had a companion whose brother (with permission from our mission president) visited us for lunch late in my mission. The brother observed that one of the best kept secrets in the church is what a mission is really like, implying that the hardest parts of a mission are often not discussed in priest quorums or homecoming talks. My companion and I agreed, and also suggested that at least part of the reason for that is the need to "be there." Just as an inside joke is funny only to those who share the experience, just as only women who have experienced childbirth really understand it, so are there parts of a mission that only those who live it will know and understand it.

I'm grateful that young people choose to serve. I remember while teaching in the MTC years ago that there were lots of reasons missionaries came on their missions. My own service showed me that my greatest success (however you define that for missionaries) came when I served out of love for the Lord and for His children. I trust my young nephews will learn that lesson, too.