When teaching the Gospel Doctrine class, I often
quote Church leaders from the fairly recent past. Even though they served within the lifetime of
our class members, I’m surprised that so few remember those men or can cite any
of their teachings.
I treasure my memory of those men because so many were my spiritual
mentors as I was growing in gospel knowledge and testimony.
One such mentor was Bruce R. McConkie, an outspoken witness
of and for the Lord. But some members react strangely when they hear his name. Their
eyes roll, they grin derisively, and their heads shake back and forth as if
they can’t believe I’m even quoting him. They feel he was a “loose cannon”
because he spoke with such boldness.
Truman Madsen said: “Living prophets can get involved in your life, changing it, giving specific commandments and counsels, rebuking, approving or disapproving, but dead prophets stay out of your hair” (Joseph Smith the Prophet, 18-19). Even though he passed away 31 years ago, Bruce R. McConkie is still “in the hair” of some members because he spoke with such plainness and boldness.
Elder McConkie died of cancer on April 19, 1985.
I commend to all the book, “The Bruce McConkie Story,” written by his son,
Joseph Fielding McConkie. It will
give you insight into a life dedicated to one thing: preaching the gospel.
Here are a few excerpts:
1. Criticism followed Bruce McConkie like a shadow. He expected
it and measured himself by it. “The measure of a man," he explained to his
children, "is not found in who speaks well of him but who speaks against
him. It is just as important to have the right enemies as it is to have the
right friends." He was an agent of the Lord. "Agents represent their
principal. They have no power of their own. They act in someone else's name.
They do what they are told to do. They say what they are authorized to
say—nothing more, nothing less." As the Lord's agent, he delivered the
Lord's message. If people were offended with him for having done so, so be it.
7. When a food faddist cornered Dad at a stake conference to
advise him that there were people in that stake who ate both ham and chocolate,
he responded, "You have no idea how widespread that problem is. Why just
last Thursday after our Temple meetings the First Presidency and the Quorum of
the Twelve ate a meal together in the Temple and were served both ham and
chocolates."
8. He wrote an article for the Ensign entitled "The Salvation of Little Children." In that article he noted that the scriptures promise the fulness of eternal blessings to children who die before the age of accountability. This article and the expression of that doctrine engendered more criticism than anything else he ever wrote. One writer demanded the right to meet him in a public debate over the issue. As is usually the case, that may have constituted more of a commentary on his critic than it did on him.
11. "We don't need to get a complex or get a feeling that
you have to be perfect to be saved. You don't. There's only been one perfect
person, and that's the Lord Jesus, but in order to be saved in the Kingdom of
God and in order to pass the test of mortality, what you have to do is get on
the straight and narrow path—thus charting a course leading to eternal life—and
then, being on that path, pass out of this life in full fellowship. I'm not
saying that you don't have to keep the commandments. I'm saying you don't have
to be perfect to be saved. If you did, no one would be saved. The way it
operates is this, you get on the path that's named the straight and narrow. You
do it by entering the gate of repentance and baptism. The straight and narrow
path leads from the gate of repentance and baptism, a very great distance, to a
reward that's called eternal life. If you're on that path and pressing forward,
and you die, you'll never get off the path. There is no such thing as falling
off the straight and narrow path in the life to come, and the reason is that
this life is the time that is given to men to prepare for eternity. Now is the
time and the day of your salvation, so if you're working zealously in this
life—though you haven't fully overcome the world and you haven't done all you
hoped you might do—you're still going to be saved. You don't have to do what
Jacob said, 'Go beyond the mark.' You don't have to live a life that's truer
than true. You don't have to have an excessive zeal that becomes fanatical and
becomes unbalancing. What you have to do is stay in the mainstream of the
Church and live as upright and decent people live in the Church—keeping the
commandments, paying your tithing, serving in the organizations of the Church,
loving the Lord, staying on the straight and narrow path. If you're on that
path when death comes—because this is the time and the day appointed, this is
the probationary estate—you'll never fall off from it, and, for all practical
purposes, your calling and election is made sure. Now, that isn't the
definition of that term, but the end result will be the same."
14. "Maybe in our efforts as a Church to ensure that
everyone knows we're Christian, we have gone too far. A while back we changed
our missionary discussions to make our first discussion a message about Christ.
It seemed at the time a good thing to do, given that Jesus is the Head of the
Church. But what was the result? A decrease in convert baptisms and a decrease
in the number of copies of the Book of Mormon placed by full-time missionaries
from one million per year to 500,000. We arenot teaching the Restoration as we
ought to."
What Elder McConkie said next changed the way many of us
who were present now teach. He stated: "We will never achieve the quantity
and quality of converts that President Kimball and the Lord have envisioned as
long as we continue to stress the similarities between us and those of other
faiths. It is only when we stress the differences that we are able to make our
distinctive contribution in the world and thus make our influence felt."
15. On another occasion, when Dad was speaking in the Saturday evening session of a stake conference, he felt a bit queasy when he stood to speak. In the course of his talk, it became evident that his stomach was about to reject his dinner. Sensing the moment was imminent, he invited the congregation to sing a hymn, while he bee-lined to the restroom. It was obvious to everyone what was happening. When he returned, he said, "I might be the only general authority in the history of the Church who gave a talk that was so bad that it even made him throw up."
16. In September 1970, after the mission presidents' seminar
in Osaka, Japan, Bruce and Amelia and Brent and Elaine Hardy visited the
World's Fair, which was being held in that city. The Mormon Pavilion, with the
film Man's Search for Happiness, had proved itself one of the most
popular exhibits. Mission president Edward Y. Okazaki and his wife, Sister
Chieko N. Okazaki, were their guides. At the Mormon Pavilion, Amelia observed a
beautiful little Japanese girl standing in front of the statue of Christ and
trying to pose in the same way. "That created," she said, "a
very touching picture."
After they saw the film at the Mormon Pavilion, the group
set out to visit some of the other pavilions. They were pleased to meet a
number of former Japanese missionaries who were employed as guides at various
exhibits because of their fluent Japanese and English. When they came to the
Christian Pavilion, Bruce said, "Come on. Let's go inside and see what the
opposition has."
As they entered, they were handed a pamphlet announcing
the theme of the pavilion as "Holy Emptiness." To dramatize the
theme, the cathedral was empty except for a few benches and an organ in the
center. An organ recital was given each day, and they had arrived just in time
for it. The organist was immediately identified by the missionaries as a Mormon
elder. Amelia said, "Let's get him to play some Mormon hymns." She
and the two elders went over to talk to him while Bruce and the Hardys walked
through the back of the cathedral.
In a few moments the elder was playing "Come, Come,
Ye Saints" and "We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet." People
began to assemble to listen. At the same time the pavilion director was on his
way to see what was going on. Learning that some Mormons were in his building,
he immediately approached Bruce and Elder Hardy. "Are you Mormons?"
he asked.
Bruce responded in the affirmative.
"Well," the director began, "I had not had
an opportunity to visit your pavilion until the other day when I went in to see
that film you show, and I want you to know that it made me furious."
"Is that so?" Bruce said. "Why?"
The man's face and neck got redder. "I did not take
occasion to look up the director of the pavilion and register my protests, but
since you are Mormons, may I tell you?"
"Certainly," was the response.
He then expressed his displeasure with the film Man's
Search for Happiness because it portrayed a continuation of the family unit
and the conscious identity of the human soul after death. He explained that he
had been in Japan for eighteen years as a Lutheran minister teaching at a
Lutheran school. "All these Buddhists by instinct think that the family
unit exists after death. I have spent eighteen years of my life trying to knock
this idea out of their heads and then I see this film that destroys all my
work, and I would like to know if this is really what Mormons believe."
Bruce said, "Sir, you are very perceptive; that is
precisely what we believe."
After some discussion of this matter, the pavilion
director inquired about the Apostasy. He said, "I get the idea that you
Mormons think you are the only true church."
"I assured him," Dad said later, "that he
was catching the vision of what was involved."
Then the pavilion director said, "I wouldn't mind so
much if your missionaries spent their time preaching to Buddhists, but I can't
understand why you preach to the Christians. At the school where I teach, your
elders come and pass out literature to my Christian converts. I would like to
know why you do this and can't operate like other churches do." In making
these expressions, he was getting quite exercised, so Dad "took off the
kid gloves," as he said later. He answered, "Reverend, I am delighted
to answer your question. The reason that our missionaries come and teach your
people is that we think it is just as important for a Lutheran to be saved as
it is for a Buddhist." To this he added the story of the First Vision,
after which they parted.
The missionaries remained behind for a few minutes, and
the director said to them, "I really didn't want to talk to him; I just
wanted to talk to you."
"My reaction to that," Dad said, "was that
if I were a Lutheran minister, I wouldn't want to talk to me either."
17. As to Bruce McConkie the preacher, Elder Packer observed:
"His manner of delivery was unique, something of an Old Testament
scriptural quality about it. It was not granted to Brother McConkie to judge
beforehand how his discourses would be received and then alter them
accordingly. He could not measure what he ought to say and how he ought to say
it by, 'What will people think?' Would his sermons leave any uncomfortable?
Would his bold declarations irritate some in the Church? Would they inspire the
critics to rush to their anvils and hammer out more 'fiery darts,' as the
scriptures call them? Would his manner of delivery offend? Would his forthright
declarations in content or in manner of presentation drive some learned
investigators away? Would he be described as insensitive or overbearing? Would
his warnings and condemnations of evil undo the careful work of others whose main
intent was to have the world 'think well of the Church'? Perhaps it was given
to other men to so measure their words in that way, but it was not given to
him. We have talked of this and when he was tempted to change, the Spirit would
withdraw a distance and there would come that deep loneliness known only to
those who have enjoyed close association with the Spirit, only to find on
occasion that it moves away. He could stand what the critics might say and what
the enemies might do, but he could not stand that. He would be driven to his
knees to beg forgiveness and plead for the renewal of that companionship of the
Spirit which the scriptures promise can be constant. Then he would learn, once
again, that what was true of the Holy Men of God who spake in ancient times
applied to him as well. He was to speak as he was moved upon by the Holy
Spirit. What matter if it sounded like Bruce R. McConkie so long as the Lord
approved. I knew him well enough to know all of that."
18. In the Saturday morning session on April 6, 1985, Dad
gave his final talk in a general conference of the Church. As he rose to speak,
his face was drawn and thin, his skin so yellow that many must have been
tempted to adjust the color on their television sets, his steps those of a man
many years his senior; nevertheless, he stood tall and spoke as he always had,
with confidence and power. The family prayer that he might have both the
strength and emotional control to give the talk was answered. The Spirit took
over as Dad had prayed it would, and one of the most powerful talks ever given
in the Tabernacle was delivered.
With a trembling voice, he concluded: "I am one of
his witnesses, and in a coming day I shall feel the nail marks in his hands and
in his feet and shall wet his feet with my tears.
"But I shall not know any better then than I know
now that he is God's Almighty Son, that he is our Savior and Redeemer, and that
salvation comes in and through his atoning blood and in no other way."