Spoken Word Messages - Page 55

One of the realities of this life is that everything is not as it appears; or more appropriately, everything is not as we perceive it. We filter what we see through our own imaginations, our own sentiments, through our own values and aspirations. We see, as Paul the Apostle noted, "through a glass darkly,"1 perceiving illusions as reality and at times reality as illusion.

Summer is an ideal season for mental, emotional and spiritual tune-ups. Just as a finely tuned engine needs adjustments to run most efficiently, so do our lives run more efficiently if we take time for needed adjustments and improvements.

The scriptures teach us that we are responsible to love one another, to care for one another, to be brothers and sisters to one another. For, as the Apostle John taught, "He that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?"1

One day as Jesus Christ roamed into a certain village, ten lepers approached him begging to be cleansed. Christ told them to pass in front of the priest and indeed when they did, they were healed. Nine rushed away, jubilant and self-centered, but one returned to the Lord to give thanks. And Jesus said, "Were there not ten cleansed? But where are the nine?"1 It was a plaintive question, typical of a lifetime of being used and then forgotten. But what is most interesting is that though Christ noticed the lepers' lack of appreciation, He did not remove the gift. How many others were healed who hurried off, forgetting the healer? How many beneficiaries of His kindness watched mutely while He was tried and crucified?

Not long ago a group of American college students arrived in an Eastern European city somewhat apprehensive. The country was not known for its political friendliness to America, and in addition, there were representatives from several other countries—some of which also were not particularly friendly to the United States.

The greatness of nations is made up of more than gross national products and technologies. So it is with this country. Behind the corporations, underlying the commerce and trade, supporting the stock markets—greatness is difficult to define, but an ever-present factor.

The pride and faith citizens of the United States of America have in their country is particularly evident at this time of year as flags are unfurled and fireworks puncture the evening skies. It's a time when Americans contemplate their citizenship—a citizenship many people throughout the world would be honored to share.

It is a platitude to say that best things may come from worst circumstances. And like most platitudes, this one is occasionally true. Disease may make us ill, but from that illness may come the immunity which protects us in the future. From what is now a blight may spring our greatest blessing.

One of the greatest messages the Savior taught and exemplified was love. Not only is he lover of our souls—did he love us enough to die for us—but he taught we should love one another. What power there is in that admonishment.

Of all man's questions regarding human existence, the problem of suffering seems to be one of the most perplexing. For some individuals, pain and suffering appears to be punishment from God for sins committed or laws broken. Others see it as an indication that there is no God: for surely, reason these people, an omnipotent God could have organized a universe without the presence of pain and sorrow. And for others, the question remains an unanswered riddle.

At first thought, Christ's injunction to "...let the dead bury their dead,"1 seems somewhat harsh. It may appear especially insensitive at this time of year as Memorial Day bids us to remember departed relatives and friends.

"Sunrise, sunset, swiftly fly the years. One season following another, laden with happiness and tears..." Those words—full of reminiscence and poignant with meaning—remind us that the years do seem to pass by with great speed. And they have particular meaning during the graduation season—a time when the hearts and minds of students and parents alike are full of memories of the past and hope for the future.

The Savior said, "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly."1 There is an abundance to righteous living that can be achieved by no other means, a satisfaction and security in knowing the truth and doing it.

A young boy known for behavior problems was pushed from one foster home to another until one family was found who kept him for many years. With this family he became obedient, responsible, and a good student in school. But at last, the day came when even they could keep him no more, and he was to be moved again. On his final day at school, he was rude, destructive, breaking crayons and throwing them, much unlike the boy he had become. By the end of the day his teacher was exasperated, and when she saw him out in the schoolyard digging, she ran to confront him. "What are you doing?" she asked, as he hid a small box behind him. Finally, he showed her. He was doing no wrong. The box was simply full of soil, earth to take with him from the place he'd been happy. He was carrying away a part of the only real home he had ever known.

Several years ago, a young athlete crouched poised in the starting blocks at the beginning of the high hurdles competition. Behind him was a good part of his lifetime spent in dreaming, training, working, planning and building for this moment. Ahead of him was a chance for the highest of all trophies, an Olympic gold medal. At the gun he shot out of the blocks and streaked down the track. But he misjudged a hurdle, fell, and in a fraction of a second the dream of a lifetime slipped out of his grasp.

The invigorating activities of the springtime season seem to be a natural reminder for us to alter and improve our physical actions. The annual renewal of nature that comes in the spring is a catalyst that encourages us to consider improving our own physical fitness.

Happiness—a universal goal. But perhaps some of us have a hard time remembering when we were really happy; remembering when we laughed for the sheer joy of living.

Perhaps the longest hours mortals have ever suffered were those of the Jewish Sabbath just after Jesus Christ was crucified. His disciples scattered.  His followers agonized. Where was the Master whose promise had been stronger than Roman tyranny? Where was the Savior whose words had moved them beyond dead tradition? He seemed gone forever.

Among the most poignant scriptures to be found in the sacred writings of Christianity is that which is recorded in the New Testament gospel of St. John.

In this universe of unique things, there is not much that is identical. Every pine tree, person and planet is ultimately unlike every other. But there is one thing that all things in creation share, they are all moving. Nothing in the universe stands still. From the most gigantic galaxy lumbering through space to the tiniest neutrino spinning inside a molecule, nothing is inert. Everything is active.

Those who have some clue that they are approaching death—the aged, the terminally ill—seem to gain an insight into the meaning of life. Their conclusion is universal. Live life to the fullest; live life as if each day were the last, as well it may be.

The German philosopher Thomas A Kempis once pointed out that "There is no peace in the heart of a worldly man, who is entirely given to outward affairs, but only in a fervent, spiritual man."1 And he observed that the stricter we are with ourselves, the greater will be our spiritual progress.

We live in an impatient world, a world in which the speed of our arrival seems to be valued even more highly than the importance of our destination. Fiber optics, bubble memory, communication satellites; even our communion with one another insists on speed. We telephone across the ocean nearly as easily as across town; we retrieve in milliseconds seemingly limitless information from our computers.

There is a question that haunts every human being, and it is “Who am 1?” Sometimes it wears other faces like, " Am I competent? Am I loved? Am I worthwhile?" But it rarely disappears altogether. And it is a question we each ask as life brings us our varied situations.

To some extent, what Charles Dickens concluded about his time in the Tale of Two Cities, is also true about the present age. These too, may be construed by some, to be “the best of times...” and “the worst of times”.1

Despite rumors to the contrary, there has been an upsurge in recent years. More and more couples—both young and old—are entering matrimony. And an increasing number of these weddings are being performed by the clergy. These are good signs of a healthy society; they are encouraging, hopeful signs in the face of many signals that would have us think marriage is becoming unpopular. Hopefully it never will.

Speak to one another of love. We all have feelings of love, of being loved, of being in love. Why is it that this means so much to us? It is because it is the essence of the human experience. Oh yes, love is fickle, and some think love is blind. But we will do for love that which we would never consider for any other purpose.

"There is such a thing as taking ourselves and the world too seriously, or at any rate too anxiously,"1 observed Henry Van Dyke. The song says, "We find them happy which endure in patience." Yet enduring to the end gives us a lot of worry. It seems, in fact, that worry is one of the great human pastimes. Indeed, we hardly consider ourselves fully responsible if we aren't worried about something. There is the constant anxiety about our performance, if we can measure up in what sometimes seems like an endless contest.

Someone has said that the optimist believes we live in the best of all possible worlds. The pessimist fears that this is true.

That which appears simple in theory is sometimes complex in its application. The principles of flight, for instance, were expounded decades before they were finally applied in that first manned flight at Kitty-Hawk. And Einstein's theories on spatial relativity may not find full application for years or even centuries.