President Thomas S. Monson
First Counselor in the First Presidency
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: "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.
NOTES
1. Matthew 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 Timothy 4:12.
5. D&C 76:5–6.
6. 3 Nephi
11:10–11.
7. D&C 110:4.
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