Lessons from Dad: Day 3

Here’s Lessons from Dad: Day 3

1.       Faith is a Principle of Action

My Dad always likes to tell us the story of his becoming a Chaplain. He had been praying about it, and really wanted to get accepted. However, my Dad decided that just saying he had faith in the Lord’s power wasn’t enough. So, when he went to buy some new scriptures, before he found out whether or not he was accepted, he asked for “Chaplain Shurtleff” to be the name engraved on the outside cover. It was his way of proving his own faith through his actions. I used to wonder what he would have done if he hadn’t ended up being accepted for the Chaplaincy, but eventually I came to understand that such thinking was missing the point. True faith means accepting that you don’t always know the end from the beginning, but you trust that things will work out the way God intends as long as you do your best.

Since my Dad got to attend and participate in various Protestant services as part of his job in the Chaplaincy, we learned a lot about the faith and beliefs of other Christians. Admittedly, we have always enjoyed singing their more upbeat hymns, complete with hand-clapping and the occasional, “amen!” At times, our family scripture studies are probably a little different than other LDS church members. We like a little pulpit-pounding “hallelujahs” to lighten the mood or emphasize the point. However, when it comes to doctrine, my Dad is firm on making sure we understand the differences. Faith was one area that he pounded into our heads, often referring us to James 2:16-17, “faith without works is dead, being alone.” True faith is a principle of action, we cannot claim to be true disciples of Christ until we “show our faith by our works.” That is how my Dad lives his life. As for his scriptures, he still cherishes them, though they are old and well-used. He calls them his “faith scriptures.”

2.       Finding Hope in despair.

I have a very close friend who I met one summer when I was fourteen. My family was getting ready to move with our Dad to Germany, so we were spending the summer at my Grandma’s house in Utah. She decided that us girls should attend the Stake Trek. Since I didn’t know any of the girls at church very well, I didn’t want to go, but my mom told me it would be a good thing…well, she forced me to go and it ended up being a good thing. I made a friend.

Over the years, through ups and downs, my friend and I formed a very close friendship that I still cherish, despite the fact that we have gone even two years at a time without seeing one another. Now, she is happily married and living in Missouri with her husband. She is also an active member of the Church—but it wasn’t always like that.

This friend was a convert to the Church. Her mother, who was also a member, passed away only a few years after I had first met my friend. After that, everything was a struggle for her. Eventually, she began to drift from activity in the Church and to participate in some activities that were harmful and spiritually degrading. It was frustrating for me because I really cared about her. We would spend long nights on the phone, often in tears, discussing her situation and her feelings. I spent many hours praying and fasting and doing everything I could think of to try and help her return to the peace that the Gospel brings.

Since my Dad is a Chaplain and does a lot of counseling (and because I think he’s the smartest man I know), I took a lot of my questions and concerns to him. He became a sort of third party to the whole situation (a truth I did not keep from my friend).

On Valentine’s Day of my Senior year, my friend came to Kansas to visit me. I invited a couple other friends over and we had a blast of a slumber party. Everyone got along so well and I was in high spirits. We were also all LDS. I hoped that it would change things. But after a private conversation with my friend the next morning, before she flew to her family’s home, I began to get discouraged again. She expressed to me her determination to stay the course that she had chosen and seemed unwilling to relent in any way.

My Dad and I dropped her off at her flight, and the mood was pretty solemn on the drive back. I started venting about everything, telling Dad that I was ready to give up and I had done everything in my power. There was nothing left to do. I was done.

I will never forget his next words, so simple and powerful, “Well, the Lord’s not finished with her yet.” He said them quietly, reflectively, and effectively silenced me. I was annoyed at the time, because that seemed like an elusive answer. But when I received a phone call from my friend just a week later, outlining her decision to return to Church, I started to think a lot about what my Dad had told me.

Often, I think that I can just do things alone. And if for some reason I fail, it is because it is impossible and there is nothing to do but despair and give up. But that line of thinking—one that preaches doubt instead of faith, always ends in hopeless failure because it fails to recognize the true source of strength and hope, and that is the Lord. What my Dad taught me was a lesson for a lifetime.

By ourselves, life could very well seem eternally hopeless and discouraging. But with God, all things are possible. He is ever mindful of us, and whoever we are or whatever we have done, he’s not finished with us yet. He has a work and a plan for us. I think my Dad’s words was also the Lord telling me that I could also use a little refining—a little hope, a little faith in the power of God. True victory is in Christ, and because of that there is no reason to despair. We can always have hope. The Lord’s not finished with us yet. He loves us and he will do everything in his power to bring us to him. That is the power of hope.