You're an awesome sight from where I stand, and all the more so when I realize how many of you are listening in and viewing this fireside from points nearby and far away. I'm honored to be with you. We're assembled in many parts of the world for the first system-wide fireside of the year 2001. And I'm honored to be your speaker on this occasion from the campus of Ricks College at Rexburg, Idaho, which soon will become Brigham Young University-Idaho. I pray for the Spirit of the Lord to be with all of us assembled this evening. With the beginning of a new year, it's quite customary at many wards and stakes for the congregations to sing a hymn well suited to the occasion. You've heard it; let us review the words and ponder their message. "Come, let us anew our journey pursue, roll round with the year, and never stand still till the Master appear. His adorable will let us gladly fulfill, and our talents improve by the patience of hope and the labor of love, by the patience of hope and the labor of love." In the spirit of Ecclesiastes, or the Preacher, I quote: "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." This is your time; what will you do with it? Are you where you want to be with your life? If not, what are you going to do about it? To help us focus our answers, we may wish to consider this formula for success: be where we ought to be, be what we ought to be, say what we ought to say, and do what we ought to do. The Prophet Joseph Smith counseled: "Happiness is the object and [the] design of our existence; and will be the end thereof, if we [but] pursue the path that leads to it; and this path is virtue, uprightness, faithfulness, holiness, and keeping all the commandments of God." I've devoted considerable time reflecting on years gone by, when I was your age and facing your challenges, your objectives, your opportunities, your futures. There were, however, some major differences in our times. During mine, World War II was raging in full conflict. Every young man faced military service and an interruption of his schooling. The daily newspapers carried the news of battles raging, men dying, cities being obliterated, hospitals filled with grievously burned and maimed servicemen. They faced futures altered, dreams shattered, homecomings ruined. On a lighter note, it didn't seem to matter that gasoline was severely rationed; this was a catalyst for double dating and carpooling. Perhaps I should mention that the ratio of young men and young women enrolled at the University of Utah was about nine to one, with the young women being in the greater supply, men! Textbooks were delayed due to paper shortages. They weren't available until midway through our courses, and yet we were expected to know everything in them by final exams. The institute of religion there had only two teachers, Lowell L. Bennion and T. Edgar Lyon, but what magnificent teachers they were. It was the era of the big bands, and everyone enjoyed a date to the dance, although dancing then was quite different from dancing now. And almost every student had a part-time job. Looming in the background of every thought for every young man was the inevitable call to serve one's country. Left behind were the comforts of family and home, the teachings of classrooms, and of course a special girlfriend. (She and I have now been married for 52 years.) Whether speaking of your generation or mine, there are some constancies amid the changes of the times. The past is behind--learn from it. The future is ahead--prepare for it. The present is now--we must live in it. Years ago I discovered a thought which is true and in a way prophetic. It is this: "The gate of history swings on small hinges, and so do people's lives." This evening I've chosen to discuss three gates which you alone must pass through--each gate--if you are to be successful in your journey through mortality: number one, the Gate of Preparation; number two, the Gate of Performance; and number three, the Gate of Service. First let us speak of the Gate of Preparation. The Lord has counseled, "If ye are prepared ye shall not fear." Fear is the enemy of growth and accomplishment. It is necessary to prepare, to plan, so that we don't fritter away our lives. Without a goal, there can be no real success. The best definition of success I have ever found goes something like this: success is the progressive realization of a worthy ideal. Someone has said the trouble with not having a goal is that you could spend your life running up and down the field and never crossing the goal line. Years ago there was a romantic ballad that contained the words "Wishing will make it so, [so] keep on wishing and care will go." I want to state here and now that wishing will not replace thorough preparation to meet the trials of life. Preparation is hard work but absolutely essential for our progress. The Lord urged, "Seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith." The poet put it this way: "Books are keys to wisdom's treasure; books are gates to lands of pleasure; books are paths that upward lead; books are friends. Come, let us read." Concerning your preparation, let me share with you this time-honored advice, which has never been more applicable than it is right now: it is not the number of hours you put in, but what you put in the hours that counts. Have discipline in your preparations. Have checkpoints where you can determine if you're on course. Study something you like and which will make it possible for you to support a family. While this counsel would apply almost certainly to young men, it also has relevance to young women. There are situations in life which we cannot predict, which will require employable skills. You can't get the jobs of tomorrow until you have the skills of today. Business in the new economy, where the only guarantee is change, brings us to serious preparation. Make certain as you prepare that you do not procrastinate--you know, waste time, put off. Someone has said that procrastination is the thief of time. Actually, procrastination is much more. It is the thief of our self-respect. It nags at us, spoils our fun. It deprives us of the fullest realization of our ambitions and our hopes. In academic preparation, I found it a good practice to read the text with the idea that I would be asked to explain that which the author wrote and its application to the subject it covered. Also, I've tried to be attentive in any lecture in the classroom and to pretend that I would be called upon to present that same lecture to others. While this practice is very hard work, it certainly helps during test week! It is hazardous in the extreme to count on a situation typical of one I read about some years ago pertaining to a large ecclesiastical-oriented college in the eastern part of America where every student had to enroll in a class entitled Religion Number 1. The professor of that particular class had been there many years and loved the writings and teachings of the Apostle Paul. He loved them with such a vigor that that's about all he taught in Religion Number 1. Consequently, he would tell the class at the beginning of the semester, "I will not give any examinations during the semester except the final. The result of the final examination will determine your grade for the entire course." Now, that would be kind of overwhelming, except that every semester for 21 years he'd given the same examination in every class of Religion 1. The examination consisted of one question, and for all those years the question had been the same. Can you believe it? What a snap class! The question had always been, "Describe the travels and the teachings of the Apostle Paul." Some young people would come to class the first day, get their name on the roll, and that was about it until the final examination. Then they would come, having boned up on an answer to that question. One particular semester, three young men who'd followed that practice of registering and then absenting themselves until the end of the semester sat with their pencils poised as the professor went to the chalkboard and said, "I shall place on the board the question on which your entire grade will depend." To their great astonishment, even horror, he did not write the usual question. Instead he wrote, "Criticize the Sermon on the Mount." One young man said to the other, "I don't even know what book it's in." He closed his test book, left the room. The one to whom he spoke thought for a moment. He didn't know anything about the Sermon on the Mount either because he'd prepared for a different test question. He left the room, anticipating a failing grade. The third one of this trio stayed in the class. He wrote line after line and page after page. His friends were outside in the hallway, looking through the door window, wondering what he was writing. They knew that he had no more knowledge of the Sermon on the Mount than did they--that he'd prepared for the question that was not asked. They wondered what he was writing in that test book. He didn't tell them until the day the papers were examined and returned. The three huddled around to see what grade he'd received. There it was: he had an A on the test and in the course. As he opened the cover of the exam book, there he had written the question "Criticize the Sermon on the Mount." And here is what this enterprising young man had written: "I will leave to someone far more knowledgeable and experienced than I to criticize the greatest sermon from the greatest life ever lived. As for me, I would prefer to describe the travels and the teachings of the Apostle Paul." May I now turn to the Gate of Performance. Like the Gate of Preparation, you alone can open it. The Apostle Paul provided some sound counsel to guide our performance. He said, "Let no man despise thy youth; but be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity." Remember that the mantle of leadership is not the cloak of comfort, but the robe of responsibility. Accountability is not for the intention but for the deed. You must continue to refuse to compromise with expediency. You must maintain the courage to defy the consensus. You must continue to choose the harder right, instead of the easier wrong. The poet John Greenleaf Whittier expressed the truth when he wrote these lines: "Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: 'It might have been!'" Don't forget: one of the saddest things in life is wasted talent. It's a good idea to be ambitious, to have goals, to want to be good at what you do. But it's a terrible mistake to let drive and ambition get in the way of treating people with kindness and decency. The point is not that they then will be nice to you; it is that you will feel better about yourself. Whenever we're inclined to feel burdened down with the blows of life, let us remember that others have passed this same way, they have endured, and they have overcome. When we have done all that we're able, we can rely on God's promised help. You have access, my dear brothers and sisters, to the lighthouse of the Lord. There is no fog so dense, no night so dark, no mariner so lost, no gale so strong, as to render useless the lighthouse of the Lord. It beckons through the storms of life. It seems to call, "This way to safety. This way to home." Will you remember to choose your friends carefully, for you will tend to be like them and to be found where they choose to go. Consider the love of your parents, the love they have for you and that you have for them. Instead of simply asking them, "Where are the keys to your car?" you might add, "I'll be a bit late tonight." Often the clock ticks more loudly and the hands move more slowly when the night is dark, the hour is late, and a son or a daughter has not yet come home. A telephone call, "We're OK, Mom; we just stopped for something to eat. Don't worry; we're fine," is an indication of true love of parents and of the training of a Latter-day Saint home. Let me relate another example. At the funeral service of a noble General Authority, H. Verlan Andersen, a tribute was expressed by a son. He related that years earlier, he had a special school date on a Saturday night. He borrowed from his father the family car. As he obtained the car keys and headed for the door, his father said, "Remember, son, tomorrow is Sunday. The car will need more gas before then; be sure to fill the tank before coming home." Elder Andersen's son then related that the evening activity was wonderful. Friends were met, refreshments were served, and everyone had a good time. In his exuberance, however, he failed to follow his father's instruction to add fuel to the car's tank before returning home. The evening was so blissful, he simply forgot. Sunday morning dawned. Elder Andersen discovered the gas gauge showed empty. The son saw his father put the car keys on the table. In the Andersen family, the Sabbath day was a day of worship and thanksgiving and not for purchases. As the funeral message continued, Elder Andersen's son declared, "I saw my father put on his coat, bid us goodbye, and walk the long distance to the chapel, that he might attend an early meeting." Duty called; truth was not held hostage to expedience. In concluding his funeral message, Elder Andersen's son said, "No son ever was taught more effectively by his father than I was on that occasion. My father not only knew the truth, but he also taught the truth. He also lived the truth." In my view, youth need fewer critics and more models to follow. Your own personal performance in all aspects of your life, including reading the scriptures regularly and following their teachings, will help you to become such models for others to follow. Then the Gate of Performance will open before you as you proceed to gate number three--the Gate of Service. Albert Schweitzer, the noted theologian and missionary physician, declared: "I don't know what your destiny will be, but one thing I know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who have sought and found how to serve." I witnessed such an act of service one Sunday as I attended the sacrament meeting of a small branch which consisted of patients in a nursing home. Most of the members were elderly, somewhat incapacitated; you never know what they're going to say. They love to see young people come and perform, and they're liable to say, "Oh, your playing of the violin is beautiful! Play it again." And then you hope you have a second number. But during this meeting, a sister called out aloud, "I'm cold! I'm cold!" Without a moment's hesitation, one of the priests at the sacrament table arose, walked over to this sister, removed his own suit coat, placed it around her shoulders, and then returned to his duties at the sacrament table. After the meeting, this young man came to me and apologized for blessing the sacrament without his suit coat. Quietly I said to him that he was never more appropriately dressed than he was that day when a dear widow was uncomfortably cold and he provided the warmth she needed by placing his jacket around her shoulders. A simple act of kindness? Oh, yes, but much more: a genuine love and concern for others. May I also share with you another experience I had, this one with a dear friend of mine, Louis McDonald. Louis never married. Because of a crippling disease, he had never known a day without pain, nor many days without loneliness. One winter's day as I visited him, he was slow in answering the doorbell's ring. I entered his well-kept home. The temperature in save but one room, the kitchen, was a chilly 40 degrees. You can relate to that. The reason? Not sufficient money to heat any other room. The walls needed papering; the ceilings needed to be lowered; the cupboards needed to be filled. I was troubled by Louis's needs. A bishop was consulted, and a miracle of love, prompted by testimony, took place. The members of the ward--particularly the young adults--were organized and the labor of love begun. A month later, my friend Louis called and asked if I would come and see what had happened to him. I did, and beheld a miracle. The sidewalks, which had been uprooted by large poplar trees, had been replaced; the porch of the home rebuilt; a new door with glistening hardware installed. The ceilings were lowered, the walls papered, the woodwork painted, the roof replaced, and the cupboards filled. No longer was the home chilly and uninviting. It now seemed to whisper a warm welcome. Louis saved until last showing me his pride and joy. There on his bed was a beautiful plaid quilt bearing the crest of his Scottish McDonald family clan. It had been made by the sisters of the Relief Society with loving care. Before leaving, I discovered that each week the young adults would bring in a hot dinner and share a home evening with him. Warmth had replaced the cold; repairs had transformed the wear of years. But more significantly, hope had dispelled despair, and now love reigned triumphant. All who participated in this moving drama of real life had discovered a new and personal appreciation of the Master's teaching, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." The holy scriptures are replete with examples of service by the servants of the Lord and by Jesus Himself. Of Him it is recorded: "[He] went about doing good ...; for God was with Him." He made lame beggars to walk and blind men to see. He cleansed the lepers and healed the centurion's servant. He restored to the widow at Nain her dead son, who through Him now lived. He raised Lazarus from the tomb. He forgave the woman taken in adultery. He atoned for the sins of all of us. He died that we might eternally live. As we go about our daily lives, we discover countless opportunities to follow the example of the Savior. When our hearts are in tune with His teachings, we discover the unmistakable nearness of His divine help. It is almost as though we are on the Lord's errand; and we then discover the truth--when we are on the Lord's errand, we are entitled to the Lord's help. Through the years, the offices I've occupied have been decorated with lovely paintings of peaceful and pastoral scenes--I love nature. However, there's one picture that always hangs on the wall which I face when seated behind my desk. It is a constant reminder of Him whom I serve, for it is a picture of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. It's been with me a long time. When I was a bishop, stake presidency, mission president, Apostle, member of the Presidency--the same picture. On the back is written, "Personal property of Thomas S. Monson." When confronted with a vexing problem or difficult decision, I always sit back and gaze at that picture of the Master and silently, never audibly, ask myself the question: "What would He have me do?" No longer does doubt linger, nor does indecision prevail. The way to go is clear, and the pathway before me beckons. Such will also work for each of you as you focus on what the Lord would have you do. The noble King Benjamin counseled his many subjects after a lengthy but powerful sermon on the subject of service. He said, "When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God." At times some may think that no one cares, but someone always cares. Your Heavenly Father will not leave you to struggle alone but stands ever ready to help. Most often such assistance comes quietly, at other times with dramatic impact. Elder Marion D. Hanks, some years ago, related an account of one who received such assistance. He told of a young divorced woman, the mother of seven children ranging in ages from 5 to 16. One evening she went across the street to deliver something to a neighbor. She indicated later that as she turned to walk back home, she could see her house all lighted up. She could hear echoes of her children as she had walked out of the door a few minutes earlier: "Mom, what are we going to have for dinner?" "Mom, can you take me to the library?" "Mom, I have to get some poster paper tonight." Sound familiar? Tired and weary, she thought of all of those children who were home waiting for her to come home and meet their needs. She said that at that moment her burdens felt very, very heavy on her shoulders. She recalled looking through tears toward the sky, and she said, "Oh, my Father, I just can't do it tonight. I'm too tired. I can't face it. I can't go home and take care of all of those children alone. Could I come to You and stay with You for just one night? I'll come back in the morning." She didn't really hear the words of reply, but she heard them in her mind. The answer was, "No, little one. You can't come to me now, for you would never wish to return. But I can come to you." Think of that--"I can come to you." Seek heavenly guidance one day at a time. Life by the yard is hard, but by the inch it's a cinch. The help you need may not come just as you envision, but it will come. When we remember that each of us is literally a son or a daughter of God, we will not find it difficult to approach Him. Seek heavenly help, also to know how to serve others. There is no feeling so gratifying, nor knowledge so comforting, as to know that our Father has answered the prayer of another through you. I bear that witness to you, for I've experienced it. I close with a tender yet simple experience. Each time I would visit Mattie, a dear friend and an older widow whom I'd known for many, many years and whose bishop I had been, my heart grieved at her utter loneliness. One of her sons lived many miles away, halfway across the country. But he rarely visited her; he never wrote her. He would come to Salt Lake occasionally and take care of business matters, see his brothers and sisters, and then leave for his Texas home without visiting his mother. When I would call to see this mother, she would make an excuse for her boy and tell me just how busy he was. Her words did not carry power or conviction; they simply masked her disappointment and her grief. The years passed; the loneliness deepened. Then one afternoon I received a telephone call. That special son was in Salt Lake City. A mighty change had occurred in his life. He had become imbued with the desire to help others, to adhere more faithfully to God's commandments. He was proud of his newfound ability to cast off the old man and become new and useful. He wanted to come immediately to my office--his former bishop--that he might share with me the joy in service that he now felt. With all my heart, I wanted to welcome him and to extend my personal congratulations. Then I thought of his grieving mother, that lonely widow, and suggested, "Dick, I can see you at 4:00 this afternoon, provided you visit your dear mother before coming here." He agreed. Just before our appointment, a call came to me; it was that same mother. There was an excitement in her voice that words cannot adequately describe. She exuded enthusiasm, even over the phone, and declared proudly, "Bishop, you'll never guess who has just visited me!" Before I could answer--not that I would--she exclaimed, "Dick was here. My son Dick has spent the past hour with me. He's a new man; he's found himself. I'm the happiest mother in all the world." Then she paused and quietly spoke, "I just knew he would not really forget me." Years later, at Mattie's funeral, Dick and I walked to the grave location together, arm in arm, and I spoke tenderly of that experience. We both had tears in our eyes, for we remembered that we had witnessed a glimpse of God's healing power through the window of a mother's faith in her son. Tonight, my dear brothers and sisters, I pray earnestly that each of us may open wide the three gates of which I've spoken--the Gate of Preparation, the Gate of Performance, and the Gate of Service--and walk through them to our exaltation, for which I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.