Let us consider our callings, let us reflect on our responsibilities, let
us determine our duty, and let us follow Jesus Christ our Lord.
One of my most vivid memories was attending priesthood meeting as a newly ordained
deacon and singing the opening hymn, "Come, all ye sons of God who have received
the priesthood."1 Tonight, to the capacity audience
assembled in this magnificent Conference Center and in chapels worldwide, I echo
the spirit of that special hymn and say to you, Come, all ye sons of God who
have received the priesthood, let us consider our callings, let us reflect on
our responsibilities, let us determine our duty, and let us follow Jesus Christ
our Lord.
While we may differ in age, in custom, or in nationality, we are united as
one in our priesthood callings.
As bearers of the priesthood, we have been placed on earth in troubled times.
We live in a complex world, with currents of conflict everywhere to be found.
Political machinations ruin the stability of nations, despots grasp for power,
and segments of our society seem forever downtrodden, deprived of opportunity,
and left with a feeling of failure.
We who have been ordained to the priesthood of God can make a difference. When
we qualify for the help of the Lord, we can build boys. We can mend men. We
can accomplish miracles in His holy service. Our opportunities are without limit.
Though the task seems large, we are strengthened by this truth: "The greatest
force in this world today is the power of God as it works through man." If we
are on the Lord's errand, we are entitled to the Lord's help. That divine help,
however, is predicated upon our worthiness. To sail safely the seas of mortality,
to perform a human rescue mission, we need the guidance of that eternal mariner--even
the great Jehovah. We reach out, we reach up, to obtain heavenly help.
Are our reaching hands clean? Are our yearning hearts pure? Looking backward
in time through the pages of history, a lesson on worthiness is gleaned from
the words of the dying King Darius. "Darius, . . . through the proper
rites had been recognized as legitimate King of Egypt; his rival Alexander [the
Great] had been declared . . . legitimate Son of Amon--he too
was Pharaoh. . . . Alexander[, finding] the defeated
Darius on the point of death. . . , laid his hands upon his head
to heal him, commanding him to arise and resume his kingly power, . . .
concluding . . . : 'I swear unto thee, Darius, by all the gods
that I do these things truly and without faking. . . .' [Darius]
replied with a gentle rebuke: 'Alexander my boy . . . do you think
you can touch heaven with those hands of yours?'"2
An inspiring lesson is learned from a "Viewpoint" article which appeared some
time ago in the Church News. May I quote:
"To some it may seem strange to see ships of many nations loading and unloading
cargo along the docks at Portland, Ore. That city is 100 miles from the ocean.
Getting there involves a difficult, often turbulent passage over the bar guarding
the Columbia River and a long trip up the Columbia and Willamette Rivers.
"But ship captains like to tie up at Portland. They know that as their ships
travel the seas, a curious saltwater shellfish called a barnacle fastens itself
to the hull and stays there for the rest of its life, surrounding itself with
a rocklike shell. As more and more [of these] barnacles attach themselves,
they increase the ship's drag, slow its progress, decrease its efficiency.
"Periodically, the ship must go into dry dock, where with great effort the
barnacles are chiseled or scraped off. It's a difficult, expensive process that
ties up the ship for days.
"But not if the captain can get his ship to Portland. Barnacles can't live
in fresh water. There, in the sweet, fresh waters of the Willamette or Columbia,
the barnacles die and some fall away, while those that remain are easily removed.
Thus, the ship returns to its task lightened and renewed.
"Sins are like those barnacles. Hardly anyone goes through life without picking
up some. They increase the drag, slow our progress, decrease our efficiency.
Unrepented, building up one on another, they can eventually sink us.
"In His infinite love and mercy, our Lord has provided a harbor where, through
repentance, our barnacles fall away and are forgotten. With our souls lightened
and renewed, we can go efficiently about our work and His."3
The priesthood represents a mighty army of righteousness--even a royal army.
We are led by a prophet of God, even President Gordon B. Hinckley. In supreme
command is our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Our marching orders are clear.
They are concise. Matthew describes our challenge in these words from the Master:
"Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the
Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost:
"Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and,
lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world."4
"And they went forth, and preached every where, the Lord working with them."5
The call to serve has ever characterized the work of the Lord. It rarely comes
at a convenient time. It prompts humility; it invites prayer; it inspires commitment.
The call came--to Kirtland. Revelations followed. The call came--to Missouri.
Persecution prevailed. The call came--to Nauvoo. Prophets died. The call came--to
the basin of the Great Salt Lake. Hardship beckoned.
That long journey, made under such difficult circumstances, was a trial of
faith. But faith forged in the furnace of trials and tears is marked by trust
and testimony. Only God can count the sacrifice; only He can measure the sorrow;
only He can know the hearts of those who serve Him--then and now.
Lessons from the past can quicken our memories, touch our lives, and direct
our actions. We are prompted to pause and remember that divinely given promise:
"Wherefore . . . ye are on the Lord's errand; and whatever ye do according
to the will of the Lord is the Lord's business."6
Many in this vast audience of priesthood bearers are holders of the Aaronic
Priesthood--even deacons, teachers, and priests. Young men, some lessons in
life are learned from your parents, while others you learn in school or in church.
There are, however, certain moments when you know our Heavenly Father is doing
the teaching and you are His student. The thoughts we think, the feelings we
feel--even the deeds we do in boyhood--can affect our lives forever.
When I was a deacon, I loved baseball. In fact, I still do. I had a fielder's
glove inscribed with the name Mel Ott. He was the premier player of my
day. My friends and I would play ball in a small alleyway behind the houses
where we lived. Our playing field was cramped, but all right, provided you hit
straightaway to center field. However, if you hit the ball to the right of center,
disaster was at the door. Here lived Mrs. Shinas, who, from her kitchen window,
would watch us play; and as soon as the ball rolled to her porch, her large
dog would retrieve the ball and present it to her as she opened the door. Into
her house Mrs. Shinas would return and add the ball to the many she had previously
confiscated. She was our nemesis, the destroyer of our fun--even the bane of
our existence. None of us had a good word for Mrs. Shinas, but we had plenty
of bad words for her. None of us would speak to her, and she never spoke to
us. She was hampered by a stiff leg which impaired her walking and must have
caused her great pain. She and her husband had no children, lived secluded lives,
and rarely came out of their house.
This private war continued for some time--perhaps two years--and then an inspired
thaw melted the ice of winter and brought a springtime of good feelings to the
stalemate.
One evening as I performed my daily task of watering our front lawn, holding
the nozzle of the hose in the hand as was the style at that time, I noticed
that Mrs. Shinas's lawn was dry and beginning to turn brown. I honestly don't
know, brethren, what came over me, but I took a few more minutes and, with our
hose, watered her lawn. I continued to do this throughout the summer, and then
when autumn came I hosed her lawn free of leaves as I did ours and stacked the
leaves in piles at the street's edge to be gathered. During the entire summer
I had not seen Mrs. Shinas. We boys had long since given up playing ball in
the alleyway. We had run out of baseballs and had no money to buy more.
Early one evening, Mrs. Shinas's front door opened, and she beckoned for me
to jump the small fence and come to her front porch. This I did. As I approached
her, she invited me into her living room, where I was asked to sit in a comfortable
chair. She treated me to cookies and milk. Then she went to the kitchen and
returned with a large box filled with baseballs and softballs, representing
several seasons of her confiscation efforts. The filled box was presented to
me. The treasure, however, was not to be found in the gift but rather in her
words. I saw for the first time a smile come across the face of Mrs. Shinas,
and she said, "Tommy, I want you to have these baseballs, and I want to thank
you for being kind to me." I expressed my own gratitude to her and walked from
her home a better boy than when I entered. No longer were we enemies. Now we
were friends. The Golden Rule had again succeeded.
Fathers, bishops, quorum advisers--yours is the responsibility to prepare this
generation of missionaries, to quicken in the hearts of these deacons, teachers,
and priests not only an awareness of their obligation to serve but also a vision
of the opportunities and blessings which await them through a mission call.
The work is demanding, the impact everlasting. This is no time for "summer soldiers"
in the army of the Lord.
Each missionary who goes forth in response to a sacred call becomes a servant
of the Lord, whose work this truly is. Do not fear, young men, for He will be
with you. He never fails. He has promised: "I will go before your face. I will
be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts,
and mine angels round about you, to bear you up."7
Brethren, we have no way of knowing when our privilege to extend a helping
hand will unfold before us. The road to Jericho each of us travels bears no
name, and the weary traveler who needs our help may be one unknown. Altogether
too frequently the recipient of kindness shown fails to express his feelings,
and we are deprived of a glimpse of greatness and a touch of tenderness that
motivates us to go and do likewise.
Two thousand years ago, Jesus of Nazareth sat by a well in Samaria and talked
there to a woman:
"Jesus . . . said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall
thirst again:
"But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst;
but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing
up into everlasting life."8
Should there be anyone who feels he is too weak to change the onward and downward
course of his life, or should there be those who fail to resolve to do better
because of that greatest of fears, the fear of failure, there is no more comforting
assurance to be had than the words of the Lord: "My grace," said He, "is sufficient
for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves
before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong
unto them."9
Through humble prayer, diligent preparation, and faithful service, we can succeed
in our sacred callings.
Remember how the captains of oceangoing vessels burdened by the weight of barnacles
set a course to the fresh waters of the Columbia and Willamette Rivers to rid
themselves of these impediments of progress? Let us, in our own lives and in
our service in the Lord's work, shed the barnacles of doubt, laziness, fear,
and sin by plying the living waters of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We know their
names: faith, prayer, charity, obedience, and love--to identify but a few. The
lighthouse of the Lord Jesus Christ marks the way. His beacon light will guide
our course to celestial glory.
May we be wise mariners as we go forth on such a voyage. Let us be pure vessels
before the Lord. Let us recognize and respond to the needs of the widow; the
cry of the child; the plight of the unemployed; the burden of the sick, the
confined, the aged, the poor, the hungry, the lame, and the forgotten. They
are remembered by our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ. May
you and I follow Their divine examples. Heavenly peace will then be our blessing,
in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
NOTES
1. "Come, All Ye Sons of God," Hymns, no. 322, text
by Thomas Davenport.
2. Quoted in Hugh Nibley, Abraham in Egypt (1981),
192.
3. "Harbor of Forgiveness," Church News, 30 Jan. 1988,
16.
4. Matt. 28:1920.
5. Mark 16:20.
6. D&C 64:29.
7. D&C 84:88.
8. John 4:1314.
9. Ether 12:27.
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