The Importance of the Anonymous

“America the Beautiful” is one of my favorite songs, and we sang the hymn in sacrament meeting this past Sunday. One line jumped out at me: “Oh beautiful for pilgrim’s feet, whose stern, impassioned stress a thoroughfare of freedom beat across the wilderness!” In my mind, I saw an image: thousands of nameless, forgotten pilgrims traveling along a trail in the wilderness, and with each step widening and leveling the road a little more for those who would follow. Each footstep stresses the ground, making the path a little more permanent and a little more sturdy. However, it is only in the aggregate that a difference can be seen.

According to Dale Carnegie (in his famous book, “How to Win Friends and Influence People”), the “deepest urge in human nature” is the desire to be important. We’ve all aspired to be known, to be important, to be needed, to be wanted. I’ve touched on this recently in a post I wrote about a shift in my own values. The idea of being a pioneer, of being the first person to walk a trail, has a massive appeal. Being a pioneer means that you’ll be remembered by name. Being simply one of the subsequent crowd that widens and levels the trail likely leads to anonymity, as far as the history books are concerned. And it’s hard to be anonymous and feel important at the same time. Missionaries will often measure their worth in how far up the chain of command they move while in the mission field. In the same way, Latter-day Saints will sometimes measure their importance by how public their callings are.

I don’t know the names of all the people who walked across the plains to the Salt Lake valley. I don’t know the names of the missionaries who taught my mother. I don’t know all the names of the people who taught primary 40 years ago, when my dad was a child. I don’t know the names of the home teachers who regularly visited my grandparents. Maybe I should. Maybe they’re written down somewhere. But that’s not my point. They were important, even though right now they are anonymous. The same with the primary teachers who diligently teach their lessons in church each Sunday, the visiting teachers who unfailingly visit their assigned sisters, the young man who quietly prepares the sacrament each week. None of them will likely ever become stake presidents, apostles, or prophets. Most of them will likely remain anonymous to the world at large (although not to the individuals they help and serve). Yet, in the aggregate, they are quietly paving the path towards Zion and preparing the world for the Second Coming of Christ.

I’m reminded of my favorite song in Dreamwork’s Prince of Egypt, called “Through Heaven’s Eyes.” At this stage in the story, Moses is accustomed to being a prince in Egypt, and having the power to command an entire nation, and to be adored by them. Now, he is simply a shepherd in a small tribe in the desert. Compared to his earlier position, he doesn’t amount to much. He is depressed about no longer feeling significant or important. Jethro shares some words of wisdom with him:

Through Heaven’s Eyes

For those who can’t access the video, here are some of the lyrics of the song:

A single thread in a tapestry
Through its color brightly shine
Can never see its purpose
In the pattern of the grand design

And the stone that sits on the very top
Of the mountain’s mighty face
Does it think it’s more important
Than the stones that form the base?

So how can you see what your life is worth
Or where your value lies?
You can never see through the eyes of man
You must look at your life
Look at your life through heaven’s eyes

A lake of gold in the desert sand
Is less than a cool fresh spring
And to one lost sheep, a shepherd boy
Is greater than the richest king

Moses heeds Jethro’s counsel, and comes to terms with his new, local, and not-so-powerful position as shepherd in a lonely tribe in the desert. However, he eventually discovers that God has plans to make him one of the most famous persons in all of human history. Moses’s actions would be retold millions of times by millions of people until the end of days.

In contrast, most of us will simply remain the shepherd in the lonely tribe in the desert. We won’t be called to do heroic deeds that will be written into song and verse. Rather, we’ll be called to serve quietly and diligently in local wards and local congregations. Many of our duties may remain anonymous to even our local congregations. Many of us will be called simply to be good fathers and mothers, husbands and wives. And that’s not just something to come to terms with. That’s excellent. Being one of the anonymous many who level and widen the road to Zion is just as important to God’s work as being the pioneer who first forges the path. I’ve decided that’s where I’d rather be. I’m content with being a single thread in the tapestry, invisible, anonymous, but important.