Teaching

Many of us struggle with effective ways to teach those around us the things we know to be true. We don't want to be perceived as "preachy" or make the person feel belittled in anyway and fears such as these often make us not say anything at all about our beliefs. There is a wonderful article in this month's Ensign entitled "Teaching True Doctrine" by President Henry B. Erying. He outlines powerful reasons to share our beliefs as well as meaningful ways to do so. He encourages us to keep messages simple and begin teaching early and sharing often eternal truths with the young.

I love these and many other lessons in his message, but I felt most strengthened in his counsel regarding those who are not necessarily receptive to hearing what we have to teach. President Erying says, "truth can prepare its own way. Simply hearing the words of doctrine can plant the seed of faith in the heart. And even a tiny seed of faith in Jesus Christ invites the Spirit." I am grateful that in teaching, as well as all other efforts in the gospel, we do not have to rely upon our merits alone to succeed. As President Erying has reminded us, eternal truths, simply upon being heard, will plant a seed in the recipient that will invite the Spirit into that person's life. I know that it can sometimes be overwhelming to teach others, but I also know that we can simply and surely plant the seeds of truth that can lead others to true happiness.

His Help

Challenges seem to come in all forms, but my current hurdles are approximately the sizes of large garden gnomes. To be more specific, they are my four-year-old and two-year-old. Please don't get me wrong - I love my children dearly. I love being a mother more than anything else that I have been able to do. However, it never ceases to astonish me how these two rambunctious beings can continually throw me for a loop. For me, parenting is a constant lesson to try and learn more patience, creativity, and love. And, sometimes after a full day of attempting to teach difficult skills like sharing and kindness, I feel utterly exhausted.

After one morning of particularly loud sibling rivalry, a sweet hour of nap-time quietness came. Picking up the Ensign (March 2009), I had the chance to read an interview with Sister Julie B. Beck, Relief Society general president. She enthusiastically spoke of all the wonderful things that women have the opportunity to accomplish and when asked how women can do all of this she responded, "If she is helping the Lord with His work, she is entitled to His help." On this particularly hard day, Sister Beck's message powerfully struck my tired soul. One of the things that I know to be true is that families are the work of our Father in Heaven. He wants children reared in homes filled with love and compassion. My work as a mother is His work. Therefore, I am entitled to His help. To me, this is an amazing gift to know that I have a Heavenly Father who wants me to succeed and who is constantly trying to help me. Thank goodness, because I need all the help I can get trying to keep these two on the garden path.

In Shepherds’ Field

In Shepherds’ Field

By Annie Tintle

While attending Brigham Young University, I studied in Jerusalem with approximately 170 students during the fall of 1998. As the Christmas season approached, we began to focus our studies and field trips around the birth of the Savior.

It was cool and windy the evening that 40 of us pulled up to our last and most anticipated stop for the day. Tradition held that Shepherds’ Field, located just outside of Bethlehem, was the place where the ancient shepherds sat watching sheep on the night of the Savior’s birth, never anticipating what would soon be proclaimed to them.

The field was nothing like I had imagined. I saw a terraced hill with hardly any greenery. We walked down a rocky path, and each of us found a quiet place to sit and write in our journals. I finally found a large rock to sit on. It was cold, uncomfortable, and surrounded by thorns.

When we were told we would be able to see the local shepherds and their sheep, I wasn’t prepared to see children in rags. But even though they were dressed in worn, secondhand clothing, their eyes were bright. Open-palmed, they approached our group’s chaperone. After asking the children their names, she gave each one a few shekels. One of the children carried a newborn lamb. He approached me and offered to let me hold it.

As I took the warm baby lamb in my arms, I began to see the situation differently. The Savior knew about the life of a shepherd. He knew about the cold nights, rocky trails, and danger of thieves and predators. He knew shepherds sometimes held the baby lambs in their arms, standing watch while waiting for the darkness to pass.

While the Wise Men were able to bring the Christ child gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, the shepherds could offer little in the way of material gifts. Their sacrifice was simply in coming to offer humble hearts and joyful spirits in partaking in the celebration of their infant Lord.

The Savior has brought the gift of joy to our cold and dreary world. He has promised to stand watch through the long, dark night, despite the terrors and hardships this life can bring. He knows us, His sheep. He is our Shepherd.

That night, for the first time, I began to understand the promise in the gift of our Savior.

Annie Tintle's, “In Shepherds’ Field,” appears in the Ensign, Dec. 2008 on page 19.