How We Treat Others Is More Important than the Task at Hand

This photo was taken a few years after this experience when we were on a camping trip at Fish Lake with our Lowry cousins. I think David and James were about 4 years old when we had our fathers and sons campout referenced in this experience.

Sometimes how we go about things is just as important as what we do. Anything we do can either build or tear down others based on our approach. Similarly, how something is said is often just as important as the words we use.

I was at a church-sponsored campout several years ago with my sons, David Ericson and James Ericson, where fathers and sons were camping together. My sons were probably about four years old at the time. A dear friend, Daniel Burr, was helping me take down my tent after we had already cleaned up most of the campsite to head home. One other remaining father was trying to encourage his sons, who were around the same age as my sons, to help him take down his tent as well. This father criticized and berated his sons as they tried to help him with their tent.

Wade Haggard and Dan Burr during a scouting camp to Goblin Valley, Utah. My sons were still Cub Scouts but were allowed to attend to fulfill a camping requirement for their Arrow of Light award.

Dan looked at me as we worked together and said, "sometimes it's not what you say but how you say it that matters." That moment is emblazoned in my mind, and I've always been grateful for Dan reminding me of that important truth. He lives according to this sentiment and has always been positive and encouraging with his own children and with hundreds of other youth he has led over the years.

How we treat others in word and deed is a reflection of who we are inside. Are we mean spirited and disagreeable or are we kind and patient? Do we respond in anger and defensiveness when someone crosses or challenges us, or do we maintain a peaceable, quiet assurance in who we are and what we value most? Our behavior should demonstrate who we are trying to become—our best selves. Most are striving to improve and want to be loving and kind in our interactions with others.

We should never objectify others—cajoling, debasing, manipulating, dominating, or abusing them in any way—as a means to our ends. The objectification of others, regardless of our relationship to them, is the ultimate manifestation of selfishness and demonstrates that we lack (or perhaps have simply forgotten) the love and respect required to follow an essential teaching of Jesus Christ:

"Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you: do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets." (Matthew 7:12)

Treating others as we would like to be treated is a simple practice of grace and selflessness that can improve any relationship.

From Knight in Shining Honor to Major Doofus

When I was attending BYU as a student, I worked as a telephone operator. My brother had my job lined up for me when I returned home from my mission. Some fun and amazing people worked in that office with us, including my future wife, Kelly. The director over customer service and support was Christine Oakes, a dear friend of Kelly's mother from high school.

We had a full-time supervisor over the telephone operators to help with scheduling, training, and other needs. A new manager, Louise Hatch, was hired for this position within my first year working for the telephone office. Louise was a single parent and just reentering the workforce. After a short time, I recognized that Louise was a good supervisor who was also kind and caring. She was easy to follow because she always wanted what was best for you as an employee in addition to fulfilling her duties to the organization.

At the time, BYU telephone operators had overlapping shifts that allowed the office to be open 24 hours. Graveyard shifts were brutal, and I had my fair share once I became a senior operator. Louise worked during normal business hours from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., and then duties were turned over to a student senior operator to manage the phone operators after hours and on weekends. At 11 p.m., one or two operators came into the office for the graveyard shift, which lasted until 6 a.m., when operations would ramp back up.

Being a telephone operator was one of the most coveted student jobs at BYU. You basically needed to be referred by someone in a position of trust to become an operator. Yes, this practice resulted in plenty of nepotism before new hiring policies were eventually adopted; however, this hiring also led to increased accountability and working with a tightknit group of peers in a high-trust environment.

My dad's cousin, Max Davis, was a director in the IT Department. He put in a good word for my brother to be hired. My brother, Dave, then put in a good word for me. I was basically hired while I was still serving a church mission in Argentina.

I had now worked for the telephone office for several months and had grown in my confidence and competence. One evening I was working after 5 p.m. with a handful of other operators when the conversation turned to our new manager, Louise. I was horrified to find two of my male coworkers mocking and criticizing our new manager. I had already developed respect for Louise and her abilities, so I was dumbfounded by what seemed to be unfair and unwarranted hostility. My shift soon ended, and I left on my trek home to my apartment. As I walked home, I wondered what I could do to improve this situation. I decided to do the brave and difficult thing—tell Louise what had happened, so she could take whatever steps necessary.

The next day while I was working, I asked if I could talk with Louise privately during my shift. She accommodated my request, and we moved to another room for our conversation. Once we were alone, I explained what had happened the night before. As I ended my account, I added, "I just thought you would like to know." My message delivered, I then relaxed and waited for an expression of gratitude for my demonstration of loyalty and coming forward with this information.

But instead of expressing appreciation for bravely snitching on my peers, Louise asked, "How did you respond?" I hadn't. I hadn't said a single word in defense of my manager. I explained that I was just ending my shift and that I didn't really have a chance. She said, "Well, there's nothing I can do about it now."

Instead of riding in as a valiant knight on my white steed to protect the honor of my manager, I had only made her feel bad. Immediately, I recognized what I should have done in the moment. Louise didn't need to know that others were gossiping and ripping on her. What she needed to know was that someone had stood up for her in the moment. I should have had her back, ended the conversation, and expressed my appreciation for her as a manager when I had that chance the night before. Now, it was too late for me—or anyone—to improve the situation. I failed miserably when given the opportunity to stand up against backbiting and meanspirited attacks.

While I'm not perfect in only saying nice things about people, I try to provide personal feedback to people directly and in private. When I need to share negative feedback to others in confidence, I try to be fair and honest. I always ask the question, "What will this person think when they learn about this conversation?" I strive to maintain my integrity regardless of the situation, which means speaking up when something isn't right.

I'll always be grateful to Louise for teaching me that invaluable lesson when I was a student at BYU.

Every Life Is A Sermon--No Preaching Required

I was at a funeral of the brother of a dear friend, Amber Gray Howard. She and her family were devastated by the passing of her brother, Christopher Richard Gray, after he had struggled with health challenges for years. Despite dealing with multiple health conditions, Chris was able to live a very fulfilling life before being "called home" at the young age of 22 after a final battle with cancer. I listened as a high school coach, his mother, and others paid tributes to this amazing young man who walked everywhere he went, despite being in constant pain. This man's mother, Jodi, talked about the book Charlie's Monument by Blaine M. Yorgason as she described how much her son had overcome.

During one of the addresses, the speaker referenced a scripture talking about how maladies were once seen as curses and the result of sin. I felt something deeply as this scripture was shared from Luke 9:1-3:

And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was ablind from his birth.

And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?

Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.

The Savior then declared, "I am the light of the world" and healed this man who was blind. Truly, this man's life allowed the power of God to be made manifest through him.

I sat at this beautiful funeral with a deep sorrow for a life cut show short but an appreciation for all of the lives he touched by "living a sermon" that could be seen and shared. Truly God's love and power had been made manifest by this wonderful man.

It was at this point in 2005 that I first had the idea that "every life is a sermon" with powerful teachings and that the cumulation of lessons we learn through life's experiences becomes a beautiful sermon that each of us we carry with us. Regardless of how flawed and broken we are as examples or recipients, we can all learn something from our interactions with others.

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My wife, Kelly, isn't in love with the preachy domain name, LifeSermons.com, but I assured her that the site wasn't about being preachy but rather celebrating the extraordinary acts of ordinary people in creating and leaving a legacy for others.

I don't have a great photo for this post, so I'll just introduce you to my family with a photo. You will learn a bit more about each of my children as this site progresses.