Three decades ago, my husband and I made the mad dash to the hospital in the middle of the night. I was in early labor with twins. They were due April 10th but this was February 10th – cold and blustery. Like most expectant mothers, I worried that my child, in this case children, would be born with all their fingers and toes. Would they look like their Dad or me? Would they have hair or be bald? (I was bald until I was three.) I never worried that my child might die.
Immediately following the emergency delivery, doctors stabilized the boys and then whisked them away to a specialty unit in another hospital. They couldn’t breathe and as further diagnosis progressed, there were many more problems. They were identical; each weighed only three pounds and was about the size of my hand. Christian was born first; Cameron seven minutes later.
My husband had been alone through the night with the boys at the hospital across town. He and a physician had administered to them and by the power of the priesthood had called upon the heavens that they might live. They made it through the night. But as the morning progressed, reports of their critical condition stacked up and seemed overwhelming. Our first-born child, Christian, faced odds seemingly insurmountable. My husband asked if there was someplace he could go to be alone. Ushered into the doctor’s office in the Intensive Care unit, he knelt down to talk to our Father in Heaven. He told him how badly we wanted those little sons. How long we had waited for them. How he appreciated the Lord honoring the blessing given that enabled both to live. But then, with all the strength he could muster, he put them in the Lord’s hands: “Not my will but thine be done.”
He walked from the room to the isolette just as the monitor on Christian’s heart flattened out. He died that fast. I had never held him while he was alive. Come, the Lord beckoned. Come home.
I remember those days as if they were just last week. I remember the lights in the Newborn Intensive Care Unit and the sound of the machines sustaining life, buzzing intermittently with alarms. I remember the looks on the faces of other worried young fathers and mothers and the notes they wrote on their cribs, the pictures of family they tacked on the clear walls of the little isolettes. We covenanted then that if the Lord would save Cameron we would serve with devotion, we would hearken to every call. In the months that followed, Cameron fought valiantly for his life astounding the doctors with the grit he could muster from his frail little frame. Today Cameron is 30 and in a medical residency in Kansas City training to save premature babies.
Come. The Lord has said to his people. Come unto me. Come ye that labor and are heavy laden. Come. He has drawn us out of the world one by one since ancient times with the call. Come. Think of the times already in your young lives when you have been drawn in His direction. “Blessed are those who come unto me.”
Elder Neal A. Maxwell taught this powerful truth when he said:
The submission of one’s will is really the only uniquely personal thing we have to place on God’s altar. The many other things we ‘give,’are actually the things He has already given or loaned to us. However, when you and I finally submit ourselves, by letting our individual wills be swallowed up in God's will, then we are really giving something to Him! It is the only possession which is truly ours to give!
Such a remarkable teaching of how we become like Christ. In the Garden of Gethsemane he wondered if there were some other way, “if possible, let this cup pass from me” the Lord said, but then, with full purpose of heart he continued, “Not my will but thine be done.”[1] As we learn to submit our will to God, we find his loving hand guiding us, protecting us and reaching out to us.
In Matthew we read of Peter and the other disciples out on the Sea of Galilee in a ship. Jesus had just taught the people, fed them with five loaves and two fishes and had gone off alone to pray.
“The ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with the waves for the wind was contrary.”[2]
The wind and the waves—contrary. It reminds me of the account in Kings when Elijah says, “And the Lord wasn’t in the wind.” Whenever we are about the Lord’s work, and the disciples were, the wind and the waves are contrary; the adversary stirs things up all around us. Lash out at us
The next verse:
And in the fourth watch of the night, Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea.
And when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled saying, It is a spirit, and they cried out for fear.
But straightway Jesus spake unto them saying, Be of good cheer; it is I. Be not afraid.
And Peter answered him and said, Lord, it if be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.
And [Jesus] said, Come.[3]
I love this account. I love the simplicity of the Lord’s invitation. “Come.”
Peter – at the call of the Lord – leaps over the side of the ship and begins to walk on the water. Come unto Christ means more than simply following him, it means yielding our hearts to him that we may become one. And it usually requires walking on unfamiliar ground.
“But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid. And beginning to sink he cried saying, Lord save me.”[4]
When he looked down he might have thought, “I am walking on the sea. What in the world?” And that’s the key. The minute we think of our divine potential in mortal terms, we feel the waves lapping and the wind blowing and we begin to falter.
The Lord reached out his hand and caught him.
Time and again the Lord has so blessed his children. In 2 Nephi we read: “Come unto me; for mine arm is lengthened out all the day long, saith the Lord God of Hosts.”[5]
I think of your president being asked to leave his post at Harvard Business School and come to BYU–Idaho. Did he question? Not one bit. Through years of submitting his will to God, he knew the voice of the Lord – Come. Come where you haven’t been before. Over the side of the boat and walking – in this case – on a crop of potatoes.
When you felt impressed to attend BYU–Idaho, you were hearing the call, “Come.” Step out onto unfamiliar ground. This is where the Lord would have you come to prepare for your future and to strengthen your knowledge of the true Messiah. But, as with Peter, the water still churns below each of us.
Yes, here you will learn great truths from equations and proofs to the sonnets of Shakespeare to the history of Manchurian tribes. But in balance, you will learn the wisdom of King Benjamin, the zeal of Alma, the lonely devotion of Moroni. Come listen to a prophet’s voice will take on new meaning as you are taught by members of Quorum of the Twelve–including your previous president, Elder David A. Bednar.
The Prophet Joseph Smith taught us much about yielding our hearts to God. I think about the experience of Liberty Jail. It was a dreadful place: dark, damp, and dirty. Did Joseph shake his fist at the sky? Did he holler, “What did I do to deserve this?” Have we asked that question in much lesser circumstances?
This was a man whose whole life was focused on the will of God. Joseph turned to the Father and pleaded, “Where art thou and where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?”[6]
Often, we turn to this section in the Doctrine and Covenants, to make sense of suffering or draw strength for our own difficult days. We read the litany of challenges Joseph faced: “If fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness and all the elements combine to hedge up the way”; and this one – “if the very jaws of hell shall gape open . . . know thou my son that all these things shall give thee experience and shall be for thy good.”[7]
I have to admit, that admonition “all these things shall give thee experience and shall be for thy good” is not always the solace and comfort I am seeking. But the phrase just two verses later, that’s the call to arms for me.
“Hold on thy way,” the Lord challenges Joseph.[8]
In other words, you have yielded your heart to God, now don’t falter. Joseph had come unto Christ with full purpose of heart. Now, his charge was to hold that course. He was to hold not only to the iron rod but the virtues being shaped in his soul. He could not risk becoming like his captors – harsh, impatient, hardhearted and vindictive. He had to follow the example of the Savior and hold on to the goodness inherent in him. So must we.
I love Liberty Jail. I love the shabbiness of the scene. The walls are rough stone; the ceiling so low Joseph couldn’t stand straight up, the jailers were crass and belligerent. The scene was so below the majesty of the prophet of God. But the circumstances did not define Joseph any more than our circumstances define us. You may be single and wish you were married, an average student and you dream of being at the top of the class. You may be missing your mother’s home cooking or the rigor of the mission field. You may be floundering in finding a major or suffering from a broken courtship.
Joseph Smith was the prophet of God no matter where he was or with whom he was associating. “I am a lover of the cause of Christ,” he said of himself and “of an upright steady course of conduct and holy walk.” When counseled by the Lord,“Hold on thy way,” he knew what that meant. “Steady course, holy walk – even though the ceiling made it impossible to stand tall.”
Come. The call comes from the Lord. And not always when we expect.
Last October I was sitting at my computer on a Tuesday afternoon. Life was good. Looking out my window I could see the grass being rolled into place for our new home. I could see where the flowers would bloom each spring in the beds. My books filled the bookcases and the windows looked up at the mountains. We had been in our new home only two months. My husband had been released from callings that required that we live in the same neighborhood all of our married life. I was musing about our new life on a quiet cul de sac, it was smaller than the rambling 100 year old house where we had reared our children.
And then the phone rang. It was my husband saying that one of the apostles wanted to meet with us the next day. My heart stopped. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t need to. It was fall; The Brethren were beginning to talk to potential mission presidents. The situation in my mind edged precariously close to the Lord’s words to the young man, “Sell all that thou hath and follow me.” Not now, I thought. We just built our house. This wasn’t just a new house. It was a dream put on hold for thirty years.
Let me back up. My husband and I had moved from 5 years of apartment living in central Salt Lake to house sitting on the north bench with a beautiful view of the valley while my brother-in-law finished a graduate degree in the East. We had purchased a lot just a few blocks away and plans for our house were out for bid. We would build our new home and move in when my brother-in-law returned in the spring. We were just waiting for my husband to be released from his calling in the bishopric of our old ward when we received a phone call inviting us to meet with the stake presidency the next night. We thought it curious.
“What could they call you to do? I asked. “Not serve on the High Council, that’s just for old men. And anyway, we’ve moved.” I still remember walking in and sitting down. The Stake President looked at us. Asked about our precious little baby home from the hospital and weighing nine pounds at nine months. And then he turned to my husband and called him to serve on the high council. My jaw dropped. “We’ve moved,” I thought to myself. He looked at me and said, “I know you‘ve moved. I am asking you to move back. The Lord needs you here.” Back to a stake where few people owned homes; where the buses and fire engines were your neighbors. “Someday”, the stake president said, “you will build that house”. Come. We sold the lot, and moved back.
Thirty years later the promise of the stake president was fulfilled. We had a new home. But note, he didn’t say how long we would get to live there.
The interview last October culminated in a call from the First Presidency for my husband to preside over the England London South Mission. Come. Leave your house – no different than leaping over the side of the boat. This July, we will walk on English soil.
So much of the strength of the Church traces back to the British Isles. “Listen to the call of the good shepherd,” Brigham Young counseled as he encouraged the saints abroad to gather to the new Zion. Come. British convert John Jaques wrote,“When [the Lord] calls his saints to do anything, if they will rely upon Him and do the best they can, He will fit the back to the burden and make everything bend to the accomplishments of His purposes.”
But that doesn’t mean it will be easy. The first three handcart companies of 1856 arrived in the valley just days before General Conference. The last two were not so fortunate. They started late from England and were delayed in Iowa. Little did they know what lay ahead. Unfamiliar ground it was indeed and soon it was covered in snow.
“Our old and infirm people began to droop,” John Chislett of the Willie company wrote, “and they no sooner lost spirit and courage than death’s stamp could be traced upon their features. Life went out as smoothly as a lamp ceases to burn when the oil is gone.”
Children chewed on bark, leaves, twigs and even the tattered leather from the boots of those–who had died. Wrote Elizabeth Horrocks Jackson of the Martin Company, “I listened to hear my husband breathe – he lay so still. I put my hand on his body, when to my horror I discovered that my worst fears were confirmed . . . He was cold and stiff – rigid in the arms of death.”
Come home.
The daily journal of James Bleak, Martin Company gives us a glimpse of their suffering.
Thursday 23rd October. We traveled 5 miles. For several days we have been weather bound in consequence of a heavy fall of snow.
Friday 24th. No traveling.
Saturday 25th. No traveling. Our rations reduced to 8 oz of flour for adults and 4 oz for children.
Sunday 26th. No traveling
Monday 27th. No traveling.
Tuesday 28th October. No traveling. Joseph A. Young, Abel Garr and one other [Daniel Jones] were met from the valley. When they first made their appearance I do not think there was one in camp but shed tears of joy.
“Many declared we were angels from heaven,” recalled Daniel Jones of the rescue party. “I told them I thought we were better than angels for this occasion, as we were good strong men come to help them [come] into the valley.” Among those who reached the valley was Susanna Stone Lloyd of the Willie Company who wrote, “Our toilsome journey . . . was hard to endure, but the Lord gave us strength and courage.”
It is not likely you will face the challenges of the handcart pioneers, but you will be tried and tested in many other ways. Things won’t always go the way you want them to. Hardships will take their toll and will find each of you in time. But if you are willing to submit your will to the will of your Father in Heaven, the results will be sweet. Now, while you are at this University, covenant with the Lord to submit to his will. May we be heard to say, “Here’s my heart, Lord.” My husband and I made that commitment in the newborn intensive care unit. Don’t wait to be compelled in a moment of crisis. Fix your focus today. Determine to let your will be swallowed up in God’s will “even to the purifying and sanctification of [your] hearts, which sanctification cometh because of [your] yielding [your] hearts unto God.”
And the blessings will pour down from the heavens. This I know.
President Ezra Taft Benson promised,
Men and women who turn their lives over to God will discover that He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace.
Could any of us ask for more?
Consider this poetic image as you turn your life over to the Lord:
My life is but a Weaving, between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily.
Oftimes He weaveth sorrow, and I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.
Not till the loom is silent, and the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why
The dark threads are as needful in the Weaver's skillful hand.
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.
Trust the Lord. Trust his ways and his words. Listen for the still small voice calling you to come. And then act upon it with whole-souled devotion. Take to heart the words of the Savior: “Come unto me, ye blessed, there is a place prepared for you in the mansions of my Father.”
I bear testimony that Jesus Christ lives and that he loves us. He guides us and patiently prepares us for the work the Lord would have us do. I know that my Redeemer lives; I know that he has called Gordon B. Hinckley to lead this Church today and I count it a privilege to place on the altar my heart and my hands.
In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Notes
[1] Matthew 26:39
[2] Matthew 14:24
[3] Matthew 14: 25-29
[4] Matthew 14:30
[5] 2 Nephi 28:32
[6] Doctrine and Covenants 121:1
[7] Doctrine and Covenants 122:7
[8] Doctrine and Covenants 122:9