GODLY SORROW By Bishop Vaughn J. Featherstone
Shortly after I had been called to the Presiding Bishopric,
an Arizona stake president told me he had a young missionary candidate who
needed to be interviewed for worthiness.
As I invited the young man into my office, I said to him:
"Apparently there has been a major transgression in your life. Would you mind being very frank and open and
telling me what that transgression was?"
With head held high and in a haughty manner he responded,
"There isn't anything I haven't done."
I responded: "Well then, let's be more specific. Have you been involved in fornication?"
Very sarcastically, he said, "I told you I've done
everything."
I said, "I would to God your transgression was not so
serious."
"Well, it is," he replied.
"How about drugs?"
"I told you I've done everything."
Then I said, "What makes you think you're going on a
mission?"
"Because I have repented," he replied. "I
haven't done any of these things for a year.
I know I'm going on a mission because my patriarchal blessing says I'm
going on a mission. I've been ordained
an elder, I've lived the way I should this past year, and I know that I'm going
on a mission."
I looked at the young man sitting across the desk:
twenty-one years old, laughing, sarcastic, haughty, with an attitude far
removed from sincere repentance. And I
said to him: "My dear young friend, I'm sorry to tell you this, but you
are not going on a mission. Do you
suppose we could send you out with your braggadocio attitude about this past
life of yours, boasting of your escapades?
Do you think we could send you out with the fine, clean young men who
have never violated the moral code, who have kept their lives clean and pure
and worthy so that they might go on missions?"
"What you have committed is a series of monumental
transgressions," I continued.
"You haven't repented; you've just stopped doing something. Someday, after you have been to Gethsemane
and back, you'll understand what true repentance is."
At this the young man started to cry. He cried for about five minutes, and during
that time I didn't say a word. . . I just sat and waited as this young man
cried.
Finally, he looked up and said, "I guess I haven't
cried like that since I was five years old."
I told him: "If you had cried like that the first time
you were tempted to violate the moral code, you may well have been going on a
mission today. Now, I'm sorry. I hate to be the one to keep you from
realizing your goal. I know it will be
hard to go back to your friends and tell them you are not going on a
mission."
"After you've been to Gethsemane," I continued,
"you'll understand what I mean when I say that every person who commits a
major transgression must go to Gethsemane and back before he is forgiven."
The young man left the office, and I'm sure he wasn't very
pleased; I had stood in his way and kept him from going on a mission.
About six months later, I was down in Arizona speaking at
the institute at Tempe. After my talk
many of the institute members came down the aisles to shake hands. As I looked up I saw this young man--the
nonrepentant transgressor--coming down the aisle toward me.
I reached down to shake hands with him, and as he looked up
to me I could see that something wonderful had taken place in his life. Tears streamed down his cheeks. An almost holy glow came from his
countenance. I said to him, "You've
been there, haven't you?"
And through tears he said, "Yes, Bishop Featherstone,
I've been to Gethsemane and back."
"I know," I said. "It shows in your
face. I believe now that the Lord has
forgiven you."
He responded: "I'm more grateful to you than you'll
ever know for not letting me go on a mission.
It would have been a great disservice to me. Thanks for helping me" (A Generation of
Excellence [Salt Lake City: Book craft, 1975], pp. 156-159).
