Spoken Word Messages

It is said that if you lift weights with consistency, your muscles will grow. I’m still waiting for my muscles to get the memo, but the principle seems sound! Muscles must endure some resistance to get stronger. It’s the weight, the strain, and the struggle that make muscles grow.

For nearly 96 years, Music & the Spoken Word has been broadcast live here on Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah. Today I’m in the Tabernacle, where each of my three predecessors has offered timeless spiritual messages to the world. As I’ve studied their many messages, it has struck me that even though the world has changed dramatically since our first broadcast aired in July of 1929, the Spoken Word messages given are just as applicable today, even years later. God’s timeless principles remain the same.

Today is Easter Sunday—a day of sacred remembrance and joyful celebration!

The New Testament tells the story of Tabitha of Joppa, a disciple of Jesus, a woman “full of good works and almsdeeds.”1 Eventually, she became sick and died, and her body was laid in an upper chamber. Her friends heard that Peter, Jesus’s chief disciple, was near, so they called for him. When Peter arrived, he found not only the body of Tabitha but a room full of widows who were weeping. They showed to Peter coats and garments that Tabitha had sewed, piece by piece and stitch by stitch, for them. Undoubtedly the clothing she made had blessed the lives of the widows, and it was presented to Peter as evidence of Tabitha’s good works.

Juliet asked, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”[1] This famous line from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet is intriguing and correct; a rose smells like a rose regardless of what we call it. But when it comes to our Savior Jesus Christ, power is found in His very name.

“Kindness is a lovely force,” said author Anne O. Leavitt, “but it can only be powered by people. For all our magical gadgets, no appliance, instrument, apparatus, or device [can] extend kindness to another human being. That power is vested only in people.”[1]

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once observed, “The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.”[1]

A few years ago, a young boy in fifth grade was praying in the school hallway. His aunt had unexpectedly passed away earlier that week i, and the family had agreed to pause at 11:30 that morning to unite in prayer for all who were affected by the tragedy.

We live in a unique and challenging time. In fact, you don’t have to scroll far to read of the complexities that surround us. Natural disasters, societal tensions, and disinformation can breed uncertainty and anxiety. Additionally, we each deal with personal trials that are difficult and heavy that we often carry silently.

I recently spoke with someone who told me she had been attending cello lessons for six years. She described how to hold the bow and said that she knew precisely where to place her fingers to create the proper notes. “But,” she continued, “if I were asked to play the simplest song, I couldn’t do it; I’ve never touched the instrument.”

We were created to grow. Life is an adventure in learning and progress, becoming a little wiser and better each day. In this sense, without some kind of growth or improvement, we cease to live. And this life, where we are surrounded by fellow learners, is the best setting for learning.

Have you ever felt weighed down, heavy with pressures or concerns for a loved one? Well, if you have, you’re not alone. I certainly have, and I imagine these are feelings that at one time or another everyone has felt.

Music is a gift from heaven. It can bring peace to our hearts, lift our spirits, and give us courage.[1] The German priest Martin Luther once said, “Beautiful music is the art of the prophets that can calm the agitations of the soul; it is one of the most magnificent and delightful presents God has given us.”

A quarter of a century ago, Neal A. Maxwell made this statement: “Work is always a spiritual necessity even if, for some, work is not an economic necessity.”[1] This principle still applies today. As God designed it, good work—that which is valuable and contributing—is a necessity for happiness.

Prayer is a primary form of communication between God and His children. Since the earliest of times, men and women have called upon God for help and direction.[1] As we learn the true relationship we each have with God, namely that He is our Father and we are His children, prayer becomes natural and even instinctive on our part.[2]

Many years ago, our young family lived in a home situated on a cul-de-sac. Our home was the one in the center on the end, and we had a nice view of the circle of homes on either side of ours. To this day, I can perfectly recall what that neighborhood looked like, including the trees, the fences, the color of the homes, and even the cars that usually parked there.

Every great thing has a beginning. A new business grows from an idea. A piece of art develops from a moment of inspiration. A skillset or talent blossoms from a desire to try something new. Anything great or grand comes from something small and simple. In fact, the scriptures teach us “that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass.”[1]

A new year is here—a time for new beginnings, new goals, and new dreams, a time when we look forward to the future and consider what we want to accomplish and what we hope might come true.

Not long ago, I had the opportunity to serve as a lay minister in my congregation. One of my most enjoyable and meaningful responsibilities was to work with young people. These youth inspired me, they taught me, and they made me want to be better.

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.  

It was Christmas Eve, 1818, in the small Austrian village of Oberndorf. Just after midnight in St. Nicholas Church, the carol “Silent Night” was performed for the first time. The words had been written two years earlier by a young priest, Joseph Mohr, who recognized the effects the Napoleonic Wars had on his congregants.[1] These were dark and heavy times. But the wars had ended, and Joseph wrote from his heart the now famous words, “Silent night! Holy night! All is calm, all is bright.”[2]

Nearly every Sunday morning, I arrive early before the start of our weekly Music & the Spoken Word broadcast. I often take a seat at the back of the concert hall and watch as the choir loft fills, one by one, with members of The Tabernacle Choir.

The light from one candle is enough to spark new light in another. As Rabbi Davis taught, you and I have the same opportunity to share light. Our individual light may feel small, but it is potentially powerful—powerful enough to light the world!

Blessings come in numerous ways. Many are recognized immediately, while others seem to unfold slowly over time. Anything that contributes to our true happiness, well-being, or prosperity is a blessing, and these blessings come from God.[1]

Have you ever felt weighed down, heavy with pressures or concerns for a loved one? Well, if you have, you’re not alone. I certainly have, and I imagine these are feelings that at one time or another everyone has felt.

I want to share today a story, a true story, about the power of words. Whether spoken or written, words have power to inspire, to teach, and to encourage. Words also have power to belittle, to mock, and even to destroy. The words we use, whether directed toward ourselves or others, create and set the lens through which we view and navigate the world.

Yehudi Menuhin was one of the great violinists of the twentieth century. To him, playing the violin was a form of human healing, a way to make peace within oneself.[1] He said, “Peace may sound simple, . . . but it requires everything we have, every quality, every strength.”[2]

Not long ago, I had the opportunity to serve as a lay minister in my congregation. One of my most enjoyable and meaningful responsibilities was to work with young people. These youth inspired me, they taught me, and they made me want to be better.

We live in a society that often seems to value outgoing, adventurous personalities over others. In a variety of ways, our culture suggests that we need to be bold to be successful, talkative to be happy, even loud to be worth hearing. This message is so pervasive that those who are more introspective, private, and quiet can begin to feel ashamed of their personality traits. They may long to be the life of the party—not the one who sits in the corner, lost in thought. They might think they need to be the one with many friends, not the one who enjoys fewer but deeper relationships. The culture may lead them to think that it’s better to be the center of attention—not the one who is content to observe.

We live in an incredible era of information. Advances in technology have put the world’s collective knowledge literally in the palm of our hand. We can learn a language, read a book, and even connect with people thousands of miles away, while doing countless other things with a little tool we carry around in our pocket.