Magnifying Your Calling

Today, I've been asked to speak on magnifying our callings. I would like to start by what it means to magnify something. Colloquially, when I think of magnifying I think of a magnifying glass or a telescope; something which enlarges what we see. Which can make it seem like magnifying our calling is about making ourselves look larger, or making our callings more important. Interpreting "magnify" as visually enlarging could also as mean we need to go over-the-top and devote large sums of time to our duties. It could also feel like magnifying a calling is about looking at the small details of our calling and correcting flaws and imperfections.

But, historically "to magnify" means "to make great". The term magnify was applied to lenses because lenses make smaller things appear larger, or greater. So, to magnify something is to make it great, as in "important", "influential", "enlarged", "extended", or "seen" and it is not a word inherently designed for light and the visual space.

In the scriptures, writers have penned phrases like "magnify the Lord", "magnify God", and "magnify his holy name". In other words, "make the Lord great" or "enlarge God" or "esteem Him greatly". In relation to our work within the Church, the Lord commands us to "magnify [our] office" or "calling" (D&C 24:3, 66:11, 84:33, 88:80). Since each calling within the Church is there to help build the Church and Kingdom of God, magnifying our calling is actually a commission to magnify our Heavenly Father and His work.

So, how do we magnify our Heavenly Father through our callings? How does He shine through us toward the other people we serve, especially when we are so imperfect?

I am an extrovert. This means that I get energized and enlivened in groups of people. Whereas an introvert is typically drained when in groups of people for extended periods of time, but energized by spending time alone. If you put me in a room by myself for a long time then I will get depressed. As a software engineer, staying happy when I am expected to work by myself for days on end is a serious problem.

Even though I am an extrovert, one of the toughest callings for me is Home Teaching. I've been called as a Home Teacher ever since I was ordained a Priest. I've done okay as a Home Teacher when my companion is driven to meet with our families. But when my companion is not driven, my reliability in that calling suffers tremendously. To me, Home Teaching feels like I'm injecting myself into other people's lives. From calling people to getting and keeping an appointment, I am putting myself into their routine or plan. In my mind, most people have plans already such as studying the scriptures, napping, or cooking with their family. I do not feel important enough to interrupt their life. And if we are not friends beforehand this struggle is compounded. Even though I am happier when I am with people, I have a great deal of anxiety relative to getting people to allocate time for me.

Over time I began to see the families I home teach as groups of people, and I love people. I like learning about what they are interested in, and hearing their stories. I became more social with them at church and at the store, just chatting for a bit when I see them. My Home Teaching companion and I would alternate scheduling appointments so that I did not feel wholly responsible for calling people up. And, even if I do not have a formal family visit, I can still drop off a note or a small gift to show that I am thinking of them—a tiny interruption for them, but it means a lot to me.

Another calling which used to be very difficult for me is teaching children. When my wife and I were first married, we were called to teach the 8-year-olds, a calling which she loves and I dreaded. I'd been called as a teacher before but I was always working with other adults; my peers. A calling to teach children put a lot of responsibility on my shoulders which I did not feel prepared for. The trust to care for children, present topics in ways they can grasp, manage the energy in the room and direct it toward the lesson are aspects of classroom management which I counted on society and time to help get into place before I was asked to teach.

After a couple of months teaching together, one day, my wife needed to step out of class for a few minutes and I had to teach them without her. Can you imagine a guy in his thirties terrified of a bunch of 8-year-olds? That was me. And class went terribly. Those kids were off the walls; I couldn't help them focus or stay on topic. By the time she got back I was practically cowering in the corner with a look of utter fright on my face.

Thankfully, over time, I got better at teaching children because I could rely on my wife's skills to help carry the class forward. The most important thing I learned from my wife is that I needed to love those children. I needed to show them that I could see their efforts and express genuine appreciation for their work. She and I set up structures in the class to help those children succeed: opportunities to lead and to serve, a reward system to augment focus and encourage participation, a program for memorizing the Articles of Faith, and rules that promote respect for self and others. The students could feel loved through consistency in class structure and expectations, through the challenges and rewards, and through the praise we extended when students did things that were difficult for them.

Along the way I learned how to see the world from the perspective of each child. I could see what interested them, the kinds of connections they were making to their home lives, and how truly capable and advanced they could be in drawing connections from the Gospel and learning from the scriptures. I could also then help them relate to the scriptures in ways which were engaging and useful.

And each time I could see how a child sees, I could love myself a little more. I could appreciate my earnestness to be a good example for other people. I could perceive the small steps toward connecting with other people which I make. I could love the vulnerability of not knowing if a thought could be accepted by others and stepping forward with it anyway. I could feel my willingness to grow my skills of compassion, teaching, and loving. By loving those I serve, I learned to appreciate undernourished, vulnerable parts of myself, which, in turn, expanded my capacity to love.

If magnifying our callings is magnifying our Heavenly Father, and to magnifying our Heavenly Father we need to do the things that he would do if he were here, and everything that God does is out of love, then what we are asked to do is love and grow our love through our callings. There are a lot of ways which people give and receive love: praise, shared time, gifts, service, or even just a touch, such as a handshake, hug, or pat on the back.

Showing our love can be as simple as showing up to church to support others in their callings, because it is all we can do. It might mean persisting with a rowdy class of kids. It can be as out-of-your-mind crazy as preparing goodie bags for every single person you've ever taught, even if it means delivering Christmas gifts in July although the process started in September. It could be as simple as calling someone out of the blue to let that person know how important he or she is, or offering a hug or a friendly smile. And, love may be evident in the struggle to ask for a small piece of time.

I may never be 100% comfortable with Home Teaching. But uncomfortable is fine; it's part of learning and growing. In our discomfort, weakness, imperfection, and vulnerability, we can express more profound empathy, compassion, and care for others.

And, as long as we love and show our love in our callings, we magnify God.

(Note that this talk was given by me in church several years ago and I did not employ AI at all.)