One night in our early married years, the phone rang after we’d turned out the lights and gone to bed.  I leaped out of bed and ran in the dark from one end of the house to the other to answer it before it woke the baby.  On the way, I stubbed my toe.  I answered the phone in the pleasantest voice I could muster, and found that I was speaking to the bishop.  I don’t remember what the conversation was about, but I distinctly remember the pain I was in from my throbbing toe.  I’m sure Bishop Jarman would have been greatly distressed to know that I was suffering while talking to him, but I didn’t let him in on my secret.

When I’d hung up the phone and moved my foot, I realized that I was standing in what felt like a puddle of water.  I flipped on the light, and found that the water was actually a pool of blood from my injured toe.

The problem stemmed from walking (or in this case, running) in darkness.  Walking in darkness is a dangerous thing to do.  We may think that we know the way through the dark.  We may even think that we’re seeing sufficiently, but we’re in peril when we walk in the dark.

I would like to think that I’m an organized person.  I can get up on a perfectly black night and know right where to find my slippers, my glasses, a flashlight, my robe, or my sweat suit.  I can walk from one end of the house to the other in the dark without turning on a light and waking anyone.  I can do that night after night without mishap.  The only times I run into trouble is when someone leaves some shoes or a step stool in my path, or perhaps leaves a door partially open.

On my nightly dark walks I always think of L. Tom Perry’s father, and of the Prophet Joseph F. Smith.  While attending high school in Salt Lake City, Elder Perry’s father lived with, and worked for, President Smith.  He wrote:

“Most great men that I have known have been deflated by intimate contact.  Not so with the prophet Joseph F. Smith.  Each common every day act added inches to his greatness.  To me he was a prophet even while washing his hands or untying his shoes.”

“My father tells of one experience,” L. Tom Perry says, “in which the prophet taught him a practical lesson late one night as he entered the Beehive House.”  Again, quoting from his father’s life history:

“I walked with guarded steps through the office, then into the private study to the door at the foot of the steps that led to my bedroom.  But the door would not open.  I pushed and I pushed to no avail.  Finally, I gave up and went back to a rug that I had noticed in the hall with the intention of sleeping there until morning.

“In the darkness I bumped against another partially opened door and the collision awakened the prophet.  He turned on the light and, seeing who it was, came down the stairway and inquired concerning my difficulty.

“‘The door is locked that leads to my room,’ I explained.  He went to the door and pulled instead of pushed and the door opened.  Had he been disturbed by my foolish blunder I would not have been surprised, for I had robbed him of a precious night’s sleep by a thoughtless act.  He only smiled and stopped to inquire of a strange stable boy what I had stumbled into.  I pointed to the half open door at the other end of the hall.

“‘Let me show you something.’  He took time at midnight to explain, ‘When in the dark never go groping with hands parted and outstretched, that permits doors to get by your guard and hit you.  Keep your arms in front, but hands together, then you will feel with your hands and not your head.’  I thanked him and moved to my quarters.  He waited until I reached the rear stairway and then he retired.”

Elder Perry says, “Isn’t a prophet someone who teaches us to open doors we could not open ourselves—doors to greater light and truth?  Isn’t a prophet like a pair of hands clasped together in front of the body of the Church, helping members navigate through the dark corridors of the world?  Isn’t a prophet someone who watches and waits for us patiently while we get to where we need to be?”  (L. Tom Perry, The Ensign, November 1994, pp. 18-19).

On my dark walks I hold my arms in front of me just as the prophet instructed.  Following the prophet’s counsel has saved me from many a nasty bump on the head.  The problem, though, is with my toes.  I know of no existing prophetic counsel that will protect my toes except the Lord’s repeated warnings to be sure to walk in the light.  I repeat:  Walking in darkness is a dangerous thing to do.

I must give one more illustration.  We live on a farm about 300 yards from the woods.  Many wild animals live in those woods including the ones you worry about whenever you’re out in the dark—like bears, cougars, and coyotes.  Our farm also had many domestic animals like sheep and chickens.  The sheep belonged to my daughter, Amy, and she had to lock them in a pen each night to protect them from coyotes.  The chickens needed to be locked up in their house every evening after they’d gone to roost or else raccoons would help themselves to a chicken dinner every night.  One or another of our children was always assigned to make the 200-yard hike over toward the woods to lock up the chickens before night fell.  It was no big deal unless the job was procrastinated.  It then sometimes became a very big deal, indeed, because who knew what animal might be lurking in the dark.  If I felt sorry for the procrastinator, and did the job myself, it was often necessary to even give my adult mind a talking to as I set off in the dark.

Heidi was a particularly good procrastinator.  She was also brave, and never took a flashlight.  One night her worst fears were realized.  In the dark she ran into a black bear.  It was by the sheep, and had obviously been attracted by them.  She could see its shape waiting about six feet in front of her.  It was black and hairy.

“Did you scream, or run?” I asked.

“Neither!  I didn’t want to attract attention to myself.  I froze.  I was terrified, and just stood there watching it until it finally went ‘Baa.’  It was Amy’s black sheep.”

Walking in darkness is a dangerous thing to do.  As a young man I was walking in darkness, and never even realized it until I was given a Book of Mormon.  Reading that book became all that I wanted to do.  Having to go to work was painful.  I wanted to be at home, in my room, reading that book.  As I read, I could literally feel the darkness being pushed out of my head.  Up until then I didn’t know that my head was filled with darkness, but I could feel the light coming in.  It began at the front of my head and pushed the darkness to the back until it exited completely.

The Lord gave a revelation to Joseph Smith wherein He said, “But behold, verily I say unto you, that there are many who have been ordained among you, whom I have called but few of them are chosen.

“They who are not chosen have sinned a very grievous sin, in that they are walking in darkness at noon-day.”  (D&C 95:5-6).

These are holders of the priesthood.  They think they see, but they’re walking in darkness.  They’re like me before I joined the Church.  They’re not aware that their heads are filled with darkness.  I ask myself, how can this be?

It could be that they’re making no effort to put light in their heads.  Lights don’t come on unless you flip the switch.  The more switches you flip, the lighter the room becomes.

There are three switches that control the lights in our kitchen.  I get up before daylight, go into the kitchen, and turn on a switch.  The room becomes light.  I turn on another switch.  The room becomes brighter.  I walk over and turn on the third switch, and the room becomes brighter yet.  I could theoretically keep turning switches on until I had a room as bright as the sun, yet I still wouldn’t have reached ultimate brightness.  Joseph Smith saw “a pillar of light exactly over (his) head above the brightness of the sun.”  He said he “saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above (him) in the air.”  (Joseph Smith-History 1:16-17).

That’s ultimate brightness.

How is it that priesthood holders could be walking in darkness at noon-day?

They’re obviously neglecting the scriptures, for one thing.  Diligent, daily reading of the scriptures can’t help but turn on lights.  Temple attendance does the same thing.  So does service.

Are these priesthood holders coming home from work and flipping on the TV instead of helping their wives with dinner, playing with the kids, or helping with homework?  Even worse, maybe they’re flipping on their favorite video or Internet game and ignoring their wives for hours on end.  This is an epidemic, and a serious addiction, that is putting unnecessary strains on many marriages.  These men are walking in darkness at noon-day.  How much lighter would their own worlds be if they would work to put a light in their wives’ eyes by conversing with them, by cleaning up after dinner, and by interacting with the children?

Is a holder of the priesthood walking in darkness at noon-day if he neglects doing his priesthood duties?  Jesus told of a certain man who asked his two sons to go work in his vineyard.  One said, “I will not:  but afterward he repented, and went.”  The other said, “I go sir:  and went not.”

Jesus asked, which did the will of his father?  “They say unto him, The first.  Jesus saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, that the publicans and harlots go into the kingdom of God before you.”  (Matt. 21:28-31).

The priesthood holder who says he’ll go home teaching and then consistently fails to do so is surely walking in darkness at noon-day.  He thinks he sees, but is stubbing his toe in the darkness month after month.

Such husbands, fathers and home teachers are not chosen, and can’t be, until they begin working to turn the lights on in the lives and eyes of their wives, children, and the people they home teach.

My eldest brother and sister remember when electricity came to our farm and replaced the kerosene lamps.  Dad wired the old farm house, and hung a single light bulb in the center of each room.  The lights were turned on by pulling a string that hung from each.  My 7-year-old brother and 9-year-old sister entertained themselves every night for a week by going into a dark room, spinning around until their hand contacted the string, and then exclaiming over how bright the room became.

“How were we even able to see before?” they asked one another in amazement.  The contrast between the light emitted by a kerosene lamp and a single light bulb is extreme.  My brother and sister thought that they could see clearly when they were living by the light of a kerosene lamp.  After electricity came they realized they had been walking in darkness.

Baptized members of the Church have turned on a single light.  They were given the gift of the Holy Ghost when they were confirmed.  From my own experience I can testify that the light thus provided is as extreme as the difference between a kerosene lamp and electricity.

But there are so many more lights to be turned on, and there is so much darkness that can yet be eliminated from our lives.  We would do well to ask ourselves whether each activity and influence in our lives is contributing to, or diminishing, our light.

Doctrine and Covenants 50:24 says, “That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day.”

It is my prayer that each of us will do a luminosity test on each of our activities, and eliminate the step stools and stumbling blocks that we’ve put in our own paths.  Each holder of the priesthood has been called, but can’t become chosen until he turns on the lights, and ceases to walk in darkness at noon-day.

—8 May 2012