Elder Neal A. Maxwell
Of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles
There are clusters of memories embedded in each of your lives. And these can help us to "remember how merciful the Lord hath been."
Brethren, please allow me to reminisce informally and gratefully. Hopefully
this will be done in a relaxed, almost conversational way by citing a few remembrances,
a few of life's little lessons—nothing spectacular. There will also be several
one-liners whose durability reflects their brevity. The focus of these remembrances
is upon being stretched by a merciful Lord (see Moroni
10:3).
If just one of these remembrances can be "likened" unto yourselves
(see 1 Nephi 19:23), there might be a brief father and son discussion later
on.
1. Let's go back 60 years. The minutes of the Wandamere Ward of the Grant
Stake for June 4, 1944, indicate the sacrament was administered by my friends
Ward Jackson, Arthur Hicks, and me to a congregation of 141. Then it was off
to war. In May of 1945, I was blessing the sacrament again—but in a foxhole
on Okinawa for a congregation of only one, myself!
The training of my youth took over without fanfare—something only partially
appreciated by me then—including abstaining from coffee in those same circumstances
when water was scarce and highly chlorinated.
I do not know what lies ahead of you young men, but my advice would be to
fasten your seat belts and hold on firmly to your principles!
2. In my Primary days, we sang " 'Give,'
Said the Little Stream" (Children's
Songbook, 236)—certainly sweet and motivating but not exactly theologically
drenched. Today's children, as you know, sing the more spiritually focused "I'm
Trying to Be like Jesus" (Children's Songbook, 78–79).
3. Back then, in family, neighborhood, ward, and school life, we were all
poor together, but we didn't know it. We made room for each other to grow,
to make dumb mistakes, to repent, and to begin to develop at least some spiritual
reflexes. Today, some anxious parents seem to insist on constantly pulling
up the daisies to see how the roots are doing.
4. Young or old, my priesthood brothers, be grateful for people in your lives
who love you enough to correct you, to remind you of your standards and possibilities,
even when you don't want to be reminded.
A dear and now deceased friend said to me years ago when I had said something
sardonic, "You could have gone all day without saying that." His
one-liner reproof was lovingly stated, illustrating how correction can be an
act of affection.
5. When loved ones exemplify, it is especially memorable. My sister Lois,
legally blind from birth, not only coped but served well as a public schoolteacher
for 33 years. She had that same reflex possessed by those pioneer souls who
quietly picked up their handcarts and headed west, a reflex we all need. So
if various trials are allotted to you, partake of life's bitter cups, but without
becoming bitter.
6. Soon after arriving home from World War II, I had "promises to keep" (Robert
Frost, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," in The Poetry
of Robert Frost, ed. Edward Connery Lathem [1969], 225)—meaning going
on a mission now. I grew tired of waiting for the bishop. And in
some early ark-steadying, I went to the bishop's home and said I had saved
the money and wanted to go, so let's "get this show on the road." The
good bishop hesitated, and then said he'd been meaning to ask me about going.
Years later, I would learn from that bishop's devoted ward clerk that the
bishop had felt I needed a little more time with my family after having been
away so far and for a tenth of my life. Hearing this, I chastised myself for
having been too judgmental. (See Bruce C. Hafen, A Disciple's Life: The
Biography of Neal A. Maxwell [2002], 129–30.)
No wonder the wise father of Elder Henry B. Eyring observed once how the Lord
had a perfect Church until He let all of us inside!
7. Two relevant memories for young fathers. When I was such, I had just received
a phone call telling me of a friend's death in an accident. I was sitting in
the living room with tears streaking down my cheeks. Our young son, Cory, saw
the tears as he passed in the hallway. I learned that he had anxiously assumed
the tears were because he had disappointed me in some way. He didn't know about
the phone call. Brethren, we underestimate how genuinely and frequently our
children want to please us.
8. Having virtually no quantitative skills, I was seldom if ever able to help
our children with math and scientific subjects. One day our high school daughter
Nancy asked me for "a little help" regarding a Supreme Court case, Fletcher
v. Peck. I was so eager to help after so many times of not being able
to help. At last a chance to unload! Out came what I knew about Fletcher
v. Peck. Finally my frustrated daughter said, "Dad, I need only
a little help!" I was meeting my own needs rather than giving
her "a little help."
We worship a Lord who teaches us precept by precept, brethren, so even when
we are teaching our children the gospel, let's not dump the whole load of hay.
9. In later years, I saw a few leave the Church who could then never leave
it alone. They used often their intellectual reservations to cover their behavioral
lapses (see Neal A. Maxwell, All These Things Shall Give Thee Experience [1979],
110). You will see some of that. By the way, do not expect the world's solutions
to the world's problems to be very effective. Such solutions often resemble
what C. S. Lewis wrote about those who go dashing back and forth with fire
extinguishers in times of flood (see The Screwtape Letters [1959],
117–18). Only the gospel is constantly relevant, and the substitute things
won't work.
10. Once when traveling with Elder and Sister Russell M. Nelson, we left our
hotel in Bombay, India, to catch a plane for Karachi, Pakistan, and then
on to Islamabad. When we got to the chaotic airport, our flight had been canceled.
Impatiently, I said to the man at the airline counter, "What do you expect
us to do, just give up and go back to the hotel?" He said with great dignity, "Sir,
you never go back to the hotel." We rummaged about the airport, found
a flight, kept the appointment in Islamabad, and even had a night's sleep.
Sometimes life is like that: we are left to press forward and endure frustrated
expectations—refusing to "go back to the hotel"! Otherwise, such "give-up-itis" will
affect all seasons of life. Besides, the Lord knows how many miles we have
to go "before [we] sleep"! ("Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening").
11. In 1956, after returning home from several years in Washington, D.C., and having declined several attractive offers there, I received an offer
to work at the University of Utah. My wife said I should take it. She said
presciently, "I feel if you go there, maybe you will have some influence
on students." I replied impatiently, "I'll be typing news releases,
not working with students." The subsequent opportunities included being
a bishop of a student ward, dean of students, and teaching hundreds of fine
students in political science. It wasn't status that mattered, of course, but
being stretched and being given opportunities to serve.
Our wives are often inspired but sometimes in counterintuitive ways—a reality,
young men, which your fathers may be brave enough to explain to you sometime.
12. It's interesting, too, how we create, cumulatively, expectations in the
lives of our grandchildren even when we are not aware of it. Some years ago,
when our grandson Robbie was about five, we dropped by to see his family in
Orem. He was asleep upstairs, and his mother called, "Robbie, Grandpa
Neal is here!" A tired little voice floated downstairs saying, "Shall
I bring my scriptures?"
Of course, he was too young to read them, but he carried them, as so many
do in the Church today in that fine new pattern!
Brethren, there are clusters of memories embedded in each of your lives. And
these can help us to "remember how merciful the Lord hath been" (Moroni
10:3). He certainly has been to me!
Brethren, as you submit your wills to God, you are giving Him the only thing
you can actually give Him that is really yours to give. Don't wait
too long to find the altar or to begin to place the gift of your wills upon
it! No need to wait for a receipt; the Lord has His own special ways of acknowledging.
I testify to you that God has known you individually, brethren, for a long, long
time (see
D&C 93:23). He has loved you for a long, long time. He not only
knows the names of all the stars (see
Psalm
147:4; Isaiah 40:26); He knows your
names and all your heartaches and your joys! By the way, you have never seen
an immortal star; they finally expire. But seated by you tonight are immortal
individuals—imperfect but who are, nevertheless, "trying to be like Jesus"!
In His name, even Jesus Christ, amen.
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