While the Earth Remaineth – Sunday, December 13, 1942
When men are faced with the possibility of solemn and sudden events—when the accustomed. pattern of our living seems threatened—there is a tendency on the part of some of us to give up in our thinking and in our doing, and wait for eventualities. And where this attitude prevails, creative activity has a tendency to cease.
A man who is not sure there is going to be any tomorrow does not trouble himself to plan for tomorrow. He who has doubts concerning the continuance of life as he now knows it, finds some difficulty in bringing himself to make plans for a life the circumstances of which he does not know. And so, in time of worldwide disturbance, in time of war, in time of apprehension and uncertainty, there is a tendency to live from hand to mouth, mentally and physically and spiritually, and the creative processes of the world and its people slow down, and we all become losers. Furthermore, the loss is permanent, because, in a sense, we can never make up back work; each day brings its own fullness of things to be accomplished. And so by way of protest against this spirit of letting down—against the spirit of fatalistic resignation—perhaps we should remind ourselves that life still goes on.
Life goes on even when it seems intolerable. Even among peoples who are held in bondage, the sun still rises and sets, and the issues of the day must be met. Even where great tragedies occur, where armies are swept away, where pestilence and famine and tempest and earthquake, and all manner of judgments fall upon men, life still goes on—and there are still those left who live to build for the future. And what to many may seem to be the tragic end of cherished things, is not the end at all, but merely another sequence in an endless journey—which brings to mind these reassuring words from the Book of Genesis: “While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.” (Genesis 8:22) And even though we ourselves were certain of the time and manner of our departure, yet were it better for us always to plan and work for what lies ahead, because of the promise that “Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection.” (Doctrine and Covenants 130:18)
Life still goes on—if not here—then somewhere else. And so to all men, everywhere, it should be said: there will never be a time when we shall not have a future to look forward to, and we must work and plan for that future, which, though it may now seem likely to fall short of our dreams, will ultimately, exceed our hopes.
By Richard L. Evans, spoken from the Tabernacle, Temple Square, Salt Lake City, Sunday, Dec. 13, 1942, over Radio. Station KSL and the nationwide Columbia Broadcasting System. Copyright – 1942.
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December 13, 1942
Broadcast Number 0,695