The Rescue
My mission president was Peter Dalebout (1968-1971). He was a native Dutchman who immigrated to
the USA when he was just a boy. He
started his new life in America as a dirt poor Dutch kid not even knowing
English. But, he had big dreams and
worked hard. He eventually owned and
operated a steel fabrication plant in Long Beach, California. He reportedly made a lot of money as a steel
tycoon. He was tough and expected exact
obedience. He motivated me.
The Netherlands Mission boundaries then were the same as
they are today. If I remember correctly,
there was 1 Stake in the mission covering the Rotterdam and Den Haag area. The rest of the units of the church in the
mission were wards and branches grouped into a number of member Districts. President Dalebout administered not only to the
affairs of the full time missionaries but he also administered, equivalent to a
Stake President, to the affairs of the member Districts. One of his councilors in the mission
presidency was Jacob de Jager, a terrific missionary and leader. He understood the Lord’s admonition:
“And ye are called to bring to pass
the gathering of mine elect; for mine elect hear my voice and harden not their
hearts.” (D&C
29:7)
I knew him and loved his stories and friendship. Jacob de Jager was a personable and dynamic
leader who traveled the world working as a top director for Phillips
Electronics. He was later called by
President Kimball to serve as a Regional Representative of the 12 and later a
member of the first Quorum of 70. He was
the first Dutch general authority in the church. I heard him on a few occasions tell the
following story:
“You never know whom you will save. To illustrate my point,
I would like to go back in thought to my native Holland where six generations
of my father’s ancestors lived in the little village of Scheveningen at the
seashore. They were fishermen or had other related vocations, like fishing-boat
builders, sail makers, or fishing-net repairmen. Many of them were also
involved in the voluntary but hazardous task of lifesaving. They were
stouthearted, experienced men who always were ready to man the rowing lifeboats
to go on a rescue mission. With every westerly gale that blew, some fishing
boats ran into difficulties, and many times the sailors had to cling to the
rigging of their stricken ships in a desperate fight to escape inevitable
drowning. Year after year the sea claimed its victims.
On one occasion during a severe storm, a ship was in
distress, and a rowboat went out to rescue the crew of the fishing boat. The
waves were enormous, and each of the men at the oars had to give all his
strength and energy to reach the unfortunate sailors in the grim darkness of
the night and the heavy rainstorm.
The trip to the wrecked ship was successful, but the rowboat
was too small to take the whole crew in one rescue operation. One man had to
stay behind on board because there simply was no room for him; the risk that
the rescue boat would capsize was too great. When the rescuers made it back to
the beach, hundreds of people were waiting for them with torches to guide them
in the dreary night. But the same crew could not make the second trip because
they were exhausted from their fight with the storm winds, the waves, and the
sweeping rains.
So the local captain of the coast guard asked for volunteers
to make a second trip. Among those who stepped forward without hesitation was a
nineteen-year-old youth by the name of Hans. With his mother he had come to the
beach in his oilskin clothes to watch the rescue operation.
When Hans stepped forward his mother panicked and said,
“Hans, please don’t go. Your father died at sea when you were four years old
and your older brother Pete has been reported missing at sea for more than
three months now. You are the only son left to me!”
But Hans said, “Mom, I feel I have to do it. It is my duty.”
And the mother wept and restlessly started pacing the beach when Hans boarded
the rowing boat, took the oars, and disappeared into the night.
After a struggle with the high-going seas that lasted for
more than an hour (and to Hans’s mother it seemed an eternity), the rowboat
came into sight again. When the rescuers had approached the beach close enough
so that the captain of the coast guard could reach them by shouting, he cupped
his hands around his mouth and called vigorously against the storm, ‘Did you
save him?’
And then the people lighting the sea with their torches saw
Hans rise from his rowing bench, and he shouted with all his might, ‘Yes! And
tell Mother it is my brother Pete!’”
(Jacob de Jager, (Oct 1976,
Ensign, You Never Know Who You May Save)
Elders and Sisters, you are serving full-time missions for a
short period of time. You never know who
you will save. It may be one tossed by
tempests on life’s billows or one missing with parents desperately praying for
a rescuer. In any event, it is your
brother or sister from the pre-existence.
Use your time wisely. To
accomplish this consider the following quotes from Elder Ballard when he
visited us on 11 September 2014 in Zoetermeer:
Always be the #1 finder. The missionary’s role is always finding even
with your Facebook project.
Teach the doctrine of lesson 1 to
everyone.
You must be master teachers and
know the doctrine. People must feel what
you teach.
Conversion always starts with what a
person feels.
We are at war. It is a spiritual work, we are dealing with
the spirits of the children of God. This
means we must touch their spirit. They
need to feel it.
Redding Boots (Rescue Boats) are a rich tradition in the
Dutch culture. They were run by brave
men with compassion driven by duty and determination to rescue their
fellowmen. If I were to characterize the
legacy of President Thomas S. Monson at this point, it would be his continued
call for the saints to engage in “The Rescue.”
No surprise, one of President Monson’s favorite paintings depicts the
rescue by redding boots symbolizing your task to rescue people by bringing them
to Jesus Christ.
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