Looking Inside

The day before Holly graduated I went with her to the high school so she could pick up her cello and talk to her orchestra and drama teachers. We were on our way to run errands, and she didn't think it would take long to get her stuff, but I came inside anyway so I wouldn't have to sit out in the hot car. It may have only been the end of May, but it was sizzling outside.

While Holly gathered her stuff and talked to her teachers I stood around in the band room. A good looking young man struck up a conversation with me, and I enjoyed getting to know him. He was in band, and he sort of knew Holly.

As we talked, I asked him about himself, and he told me about band, high school, and his plans for the future. From the way he talked I figured he was a member of the same church as us, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Usually there was a big difference between the “Mormon” kids and the other teenagers. Mormons boys don't pierce their ears or other parts of their bodies. They don't have tattoos, they dress modestly, and although they joke around and have lots of fun, they don't tell off-color stories or use foul language.

“You're Mormon, aren't you?” the boy asked me, obviously thinking along the same lines as me.

“Yes,” I answered with a smile.

“I haven't hung out with Holly, but I figured she was,” he told me. “I think we were in the same seminary class a couple of years ago.”

“Did you like seminary?” I asked. I knew he would say yes, all the kids loved it.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, “Seminary's the best! I was the Seminary President this year, and we had a blast!”

“Well,” I said, “ the Seminary President! That's pretty cool.”

“Yeah, it was lots of fun, but it's kind of funny,” he continued, giving me a sideways glance. “I was really active in Seminary, I'm working hard and saving my money so I can go on a mission next year, but the people in my ward think I'm almost inactive.”

“Why,” I asked in surprise.

“Oh, I didn't really get into the scouting thing,” he told me with an ashamed look on his face. “I was always so busy with band and school stuff, I didn't have a lot of time for going on the camp-outs, or playing on their ball teams. I think they kind of figured I didn't like church.”

I looked at him in surprise, but also with understanding. Young-Men activities at church often centered around scouting or ball playing. I could see where someone who wasn't really interested in either of those activities could be labeled as inactive, but surely his leaders must have realized what a fine young man this was?

“When I turned 18 a few months ago and graduated from Young Men, my bishop called me and three of the other guys my age to teach primary,” he told me happily. “We teach the three-year-old’s, and it is so much fun! I hope I get to keep that calling until I leave on my mission.”

Teaching the three-year-old's? Fun? I was doubly impressed with this young man, and with his bishop who was able to see into his heart, and was inspired to give him a calling where he could feel needed.

I left the high school that day a wiser person, determined to look past the outward appearance of people. How many “inactive” people were there in the church, not participating in the usual way, but dedicated to the Lord just the same, simply waiting for a chance to be needed in a way they could serve?