The niftiest walking cane I ever saw was carved by Bud Layton, a lifetime Scouter from Brigham City. It was sturdy and resilient, hacked from a gnarled piece of wood shaped by nature, then burnished to a fine gloss. The cane brimmed with character.

It was a metaphor for Bud himself.

He made it for his wife. And I don't think Bud ever saw it as a "crutch" at all. It was just something to help his wife along. It was a tool for a "Happy Wanderer."

Today, I see that cane as symbol of how I look at the LDS Church.

There are dozens of ways of looking at the church. Some see it as a pathway -- the straight and narrow route. Others see it as a beaming lighthouse or a refuge from the storm.



But for me, the church is like a giant toolbox. Each meetinghouse is filled with marvelous tools -- tools, like Bud's cane, waiting for us to put them to work.

And as with most toolboxes, there are tools we need at different times. Just as there are some tools we may never need.

Church athletics? Campouts? Choirs?

I know people who've never seen a need for such tools.

They prefer others -- family history and journal keeping, for example.

I like seeing the church house as a box of tools because it keeps me in the right frame of mind. It helps me focus -- not on programs, plans and projects -- but on living beings, both grand and eternal and small and mortal.

It keeps the focus off myself.

An evangelical friend of mine says, "I believe people are saved by a person, not an organization."

Mormons believe that, too. But the fact he couldn't see that means many of us probably focus a little too keenly on organizational needs, not people needs.

We should see Primary, home teaching, Boy Scouts and missionary work as tools to help us reach other people -- to dig them out of trouble, maybe, or help them with repairs and dreams.

Like the Sabbath, the church was made for man, not man for the church.

Our loyalty must be to other beings, not things.

In our temple work, offerings, honesty and fidelity we should see the image of someone else in our minds.

It's not about reaching goals.

It's about reaching others.

If there's not a living soul at the other end of our efforts, then our devotion and dedication can quickly become self-righteous.

Yes, Bud Layton's walking cane was a wonder. But he didn't make it to show off his craftsmanship. The task wasn't his interest. His wife was his interest. He wanted to make her life a little less daunting and dangerous.

Everything the church offers can be such a tool to make the lives of others less daunting and dangerous.

The chapel should not just be a destination each week. It's also a big box filled with implements for helping all others -- including the One who designed the toolbox.