FAITH: Trying to be like Jesus

Death is a time of examination. We examine the deceased’s life. We examine our lives. We compare. We wonder: When will I see them again? How much time do I have? Will I ever be as good as they were?

With our faith in the Lord we can have confidence that our loved one lives on in the care of Jesus.

We mourn, celebrate their life, give thanks that we have known them, and miss them terribly.

Recently, I have lost two people to death. One was a woman I have known for many years. The other was Thomas S. Monson, president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormon) Church, whom I’ve also known for many years. One I have worked with, laughed with, visited in her home, and swapped stories with. The other I never met personally, but I have listened to his many talks, and read about his activities. Both I had prayed for. Both I love. Both I miss.

Examining both their lives has taught me, yet again, about what is important. President Monson was famous, yes, as head of the LDS Church. He gave masterful sermons in an effort to bring people to Christ. He told great stories and had a boyish sense of humor—once even wiggling his ears as he addressed a congregation of young men. He was the head the church for almost a decade, and served on its governing councils for 45 years before that. He traveled around the globe teaching, assisting new leaders, consulting with government officials and overseeing humanitarian projects.

But when I took an informal survey of a group of young women and asked them what they remembered best about President Monson, their responses were similar: his service to others. His visits to the sick, the infirm, and especially the elderly were something he did his whole life. His autobiography is full of stories of selfless giving—suits and even shoes given to church leaders in cash-strapped countries (more than once he flew home wearing his bedroom slippers), chickens raised to become chicken dinners for widows under his care, and regular visits, even in his late 80’s, to old folks’ homes. One associate recalled President Monson’s visit to an invalid friend in a foreign country. The friend resided many floors up, the building had no elevator, and President Monson was recovering from a recent foot surgery. He climbed the stairs anyway, (albeit slowly) and shared a delightful visit. He found joy in serving as Christ served, once commenting: “I want the Lord to know that if He needs an errand run, Tom Monson will run that errand for Him.” Their goals were the same.

My friend also found joy in serving as Christ did, but on a simpler scale: she raised a family, grew flowers, and was an avid reader. She taught adults and children at church and loved to laugh. Yes, she received some deserved recognition: an article about her in the paper, and the Silver Beaver (one of Boy Scouting’s highest awards) for her tireless work in Scouting. But her life is celebrated for the “ordinary” service she gave: hot meals to the ill, handmade gifts to “her” young women at church, book talks with grandchildren, gentle instruction to volunteers, songs sung with children. Her journals are full of people and purpose, her love for Christ demonstrated daily.

At her funeral, a daughter shared that, as she unsuccessfully looked though my friend’s journals for a recent testimony of Christ, another family member gave perspective: my friend didn’t have to write about her belief in Christ, she lived it every day. This thought was reflected in the song her grandchildren sang at her funeral:

Love one another as Jesus loves you,

Try to show kindness in all that you do,

Be gentle and loving in deed and in thought,

For these are the things Jesus taught.

In a poignant moment, the children sang a modified version: “For these are the things Grandma taught.” The supreme compliment was that both versions meant the same thing.

At some point both of these people made a conscious choice to mirror the Savior’s actions. They knew they would “see [themselves] through a glass darkly,” (1 Corinthians 13: 12 KJV) but they hoped what they saw, though imperfect, was a representation of the God they loved. Like Christ, these followers also “went about doing good.” (Act 10:38 KJV). All three wanted the same thing.

When my life is finished will it be clear that my goals are the same as Christ’s? Will I be able to see his countenance in my reflection? Would it be clear that my approach and Christ’s are identical?

In the bittersweet time of death, I am grateful for the chance to be taught by another’s life—and to examine my own.

Kristin Fry teaches music in the valley and is happily married with children and grandchildren across the country. Kristin also volunteers for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.