13. Set Apart and Setting Out
- L Rshaw
- Aug 4, 2019
- 6 min read
Updated: Nov 13, 2022
"As they ministered to the Lord, and fasted, the Holy Ghost said, 'Separate me Barnabas and Saul for the work whereunto I have called them'."
In this blog post, you will be introduced to some terminology of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. As you will read, in the context of the Church "to set apart" someone has to do with a person's ecclesiastical assignment and responsibilities. You will also learn terminology for local congregations and their leaders.
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I met with my Stake President’s counselors to be set apart as a full-time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (See "Church Organization"). As previously mentioned in, "Prophets and Callings to Serve", all callings in the church are non-paid, assigned by inspiration, and accepted voluntarily. Almost all callings are temporary and may last anywhere between a few weeks to a few years as determined by inspiration and circumstance.
STAKES, WARDS, BRANCHES
I grew up in a Ward. A "Ward" is the terminology used to describe a local congregation of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Congregations of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are organized geographically and members attend worship services near their homes. Whereas other denominations have "Pastors" who lead the congregation, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has a "Bishop" who presides over the Ward (See "Bishops and Shepherds"). The calling of a Bishop, as mentioned above, is non-paid, assigned by inspiration, accepted voluntarily, and is a temporary calling. The Bishop of the ward calls 2 men to be his counselors. Together, they constitute a "Bishopric". In the Ward where I grew up in Utah, there were several hundred ward members who attended every Sunday, which included people of all ages, children and adults alike.
In some places around the world, there are not enough members of the church within a geographic boundary to constitute or function as a "ward". In this case, the congregation constitutes a "Branch". Instead of a "Bishop", a man serves as the "Branch President". He and his two counselors constitute a "Branch Presidency". Otherwise, in most ways, a Branch is functionally equal to a Ward.
A collection of Wards is called a "Stake". The person called to oversee the Stake is called the "Stake President". He calls 2 men to serve as his counselors. Together, they constitute a "Stake Presidency". The Stake President receives inspiration through the Holy Ghost on how to serve the members of the Stake, which includes calling Bishops to serve in the Wards. As part of his responsibility, the Stake President usually "sets apart" missionaries serving from his Stake (Acts 13:2-3). When he is unavailable, he may ask one of his counselors to do it, as was the case with me because my Stake President was out of town.
SETTING APART
To "set someone apart" means a priesthood holder with the proper authority can place his hands on someone's head to delegate authority in a calling (including missionaries in the case of the Stake President) and to bless us with what the Holy Ghost inspires him to (kind of like a prayer).
I showed up to his office at our local chapel building in the summer calm of the night before my departure, after my parents and I had gone to the temple, and then went to eat delicious Chinese food. Both of the counselors in the Stake Presidency were there, as well as my Bishop, Robert Bodily. My family also went into his office with me. But let me say that the counsel and conversation shared before being set apart is different for each person; in my opinion, the counsel that was shared with me was sacred and emotional and should stay personal in this instance.
It was an emotional night, to say the least. My bishop walking back to his truck turned and said, “Bye, Elder Robertshaw!”. It was like a dream in the sense that I couldn’t believe that that day had come at last after eighteen years. I was finally “Elder Robertshaw”, the fifth to be called such to my understanding since my dad, Uncle Tom, grandpa, and cousin Daniel were all “Elder Robertshaw” at some point in some language.
It was like my past was being swept to the side of my mind’s existence, buried under the blanket of the black night and replaced by a million thoughts about the future. It was so surreal but at the same time, it felt like any other night. Like I'd go to sleep, wake up, and life would be as it always had been. But we know that wasn’t going to happen.
When I went home that night, I was officially a missionary; that included obeying the missionary manual. I couldn’t get on YouTube or Facebook or watch movies or turn on the radio because those were against mission rules. But even if there was nothing to do, it was late, and I wanted to be well-rested for the next morning when I would leave for the Provo MTC (Missionary Training Center). I closed my eyes for what would be the last night in my bed for a hundred weeks.
DAY ONE OF BEING A FULL-TIME MISSIONARY
August 6th, 2014— Waking up was easy. Getting up and out was a bit harder. It was a bittersweet thing leaving it all behind. When I found heart enough to do so, I sported my cotton white dress shirt and bright red tie, shaved, stared myself down in the bathroom mirror, and thought, “I’m gonna look like this every day for the next two years.” No more t-shirt and jeans. As far as casuals went, I think I only took two t-shirts and shorts for P-day and bed, and a pair of jeans for service projects. Other than that, a missionary’s wardrobe is generally simple because that’s all they really need. That’s why some colorful ties are good to break the monotony of a white top and black bottom.
I felt like an astronaut after takeoff with all the familiar comforts of home zooming past his peripherals and ascending into the great unknown; even though that astronaut has had simulated training, it's a little unsettling knowing that you're on your own now once you're in strapped into that rocket. I wasn't very talkative. My family tried to make light of it all but I knew we were all in the twilight zone—that sweet spot between tears of happiness and tears of sad departure. I'd describe it as a tingling in my head and clenching of my stomach. Paralyzed stiff yet restlessly fidgeting.
We went to Chick fil’ A for lunch at University Mall in Provo but I wasn’t hungry. I couldn’t even finish their chicken nuggets from the kiddie menu. I wasn’t full but my vacant belly was full of butterflies. I felt somewhat lightheaded and I still had a full day ahead of me. As we sat there, me in my missionary attire, everyone else in regular clothes, I felt all eyes of the mall courtyard on me, proud eyes, but too many for comfort.
We took photos in front of the Provo Temple across the street from the MTC. We said our goodbyes and I did my best to hold back salty tears despite feeling like I was choking on a tennis ball. My mom had been preparing herself leading up to the day so as not to be an emotional wreck. She was ready to let me go. My sister was the same. But then I let go of their embraces, turned around, and saw my dad bright pink and bawling and I just about lost it. I will never forget that plummeting feeling in my heart seeing my dad cry like that for the first time. I went in for one of the fiercest hugs my dad had ever given me. And when I went to let go, he forcefully reeled me back in and hugged me even longer and harder, all the while wailing loudly. It felt as if I were in my father’s embrace for several minutes of utter heartache. I waited until he was ready and we took off. He pulled himself together and I did my best to hold myself together too.
At times, I think we forget that God the Father really is our father. So often is He thought of as a God before our Heavenly Father. He is a being capable of all emotions like us, but probably even to a greater extreme because His love is perfect. He's not an emotionless robot of knowledge and power. I think we underestimate the love a father has for a child. How hard it must have been for us to leave the presence of our Heavenly Father when we were born, but how hopeful it must have been! I think we have a tendency to think about our side more; how hard it must have been for us to choose to be born and tested and so forth. But I think we don’t understand just how much faith our Father had in us to let us go for a time and trust that we would do everything possible to one day come back to Him. If it was that hard for my dad, it must have been harder for my Heavenly Father. Do not underestimate a father’s love. While I’m at it, do not underestimate a mother’s love either. There is nothing stronger.
Ponder Question: Eventually, every child has to leave the nest. How can we best prepare our children to go out into the world on their own? What do you wish you knew when you were younger?
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