Like so many members and friends of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I was heartbroken by the May 11 death of Elder W. Mark Bassett. As tributes from around the world have poured into social and mainstream media, and with his funeral now concluded, I’ve been reflecting on an experience I had with this man that changed me.
In January 2021, Elder Bassett, a General Authority Seventy, called to check in on a missionary-related initiative we were experimenting with in our ward and stake in Virginia. I dove into my observations and lessons learned, and he quickly interrupted me. “Bishop Wright,” he said. “How are you? How’s your family?”
Somewhat surprised, I fumbled an awkward answer. Then, after acknowledging that the pandemic still had a hold on so many aspects of our lives, Elder Bassett asked how the young men and young women in our congregation were faring.
Only after covering what must have mattered most to him did we pivot to other topics, including the original purpose of the call. But by then, that seemed like almost a postscript to his real concern.
Later, I sat at my desk and realized that Elder Bassett cared so much more about the “who” than the “what.”
Since then, I’ve noticed that pattern with others. Men and women of deep faith ask the best questions first. And those questions demonstrate how often their priorities mirror Jesus Christ’s.
When my wife and I recently bumped into Elder Thierry K. Mutombo, who along with his wife served near us as leaders of the Maryland Baltimore Mission, he asked first about our children.
When I’ve crossed paths with writer, publisher and former counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency Sheri Dew, she’s led with, “How’s your family?” instead of “What are you working on?”
In a world this tired and divided, that question may matter more than ever.
We live in a season of performance. Highlight reels. Curated posts. Bios that read like trophy shelves. Even casual conversations can feel like auditions.
So, when someone breaks the script and simply asks how we are, then waits for the real answer, something inside us softens. We remember we are more than our output. We remember we’re divine.
Each time I see or speak to Kevin Calderwood, a friend who served as our stake president 20 years ago in Northern Virginia, then as a mission president, area seventy, and president of the Provo Missionary Training Center, he is relentlessly curious about “how the Wrights are doing.”
This same habit is visible in other friendships. My local Lutheran pastor pal always asks how I am, not how my career is going. My Methodist minister friend has never once asked about my accomplishments, but he has asked about my heart.
And then consider prominent Utahn and philanthropist Gail Miller. With everything she balances each day, she’s never started a conversation with business. She asks first, every single time, about my family. Those she works with on her business and philanthropic teams do the same.
These men and women focus on people before resumes. Souls before schedules. Ministering before administering.
Over the years, I’ve also been blessed to know remarkable people in other circles: artists, athletes, politicians and entertainers. They have offered me advice I still lean on, encouragement when I need it most, and friendships I treasure deeply. But I have noticed that their check-in questions often feel different.
“What are you working on?”
“What’s next for you?”
These are also kind, caring questions, and they come from people who genuinely want to celebrate good things. But they look through different lenses. One view sees the work first. The other sees the worker.
Both lenses matter. The world needs people who stand ready to cheer on our accomplishments. But something happens inside us when someone asks who we are becoming instead of what we’re building.
Instead of asking “What do you do?” try instead asking someone: “How are you?”
I don’t pretend to have mastered this. Like many, I’m better at admiring busy people than I am at sitting still with hurting ones. But Elder Bassett’s voice on that January day has stayed with me for almost five years.
People over plans. Faces over phones. The person in front of you over the next thing on the list.
Late last summer, as Elder Bassett traveled to Thailand, he promised to keep an eye out for my son, Elder Koleson Wright, who had just arrived in the Bangkok West Mission. Even then, in the midst of a whirlwind global trip, this humble leader was looking past the work to the worker. Still asking the question that mattered most.
Long after we forget titles and accomplishments, disciples like Elder Bassett remind us that what matters most isn’t the what, it’s that three word question. And it’s one that now feels almost sacred.
“How are you?”