General Conference has always been an exciting time for me. As a child, it was exciting because I did not have to go to Church on Sunday. At some point, though, I came to love Conference itself, rather than loving it for displacing a chore.
Attending Church once every six months in my pajamas, sitting in front of the television with my family and a bowl of cereal, was a welcomed change from the normal routine of getting dressed up for three hours. True, five two-hour sessions of conference in the course of two days was a marathon for a boy, but I felt free to doze off, assuring myself that I would watch, listen to, or read what I had missed "later." Sometimes I did, sometimes I did not.
As I got older and began attending Priesthood Session, the tradition of inviting extended family to the home on Saturday night developed. Cousins attending college nearby would drop into the home, relatives attending the Conference would come from far and wide. We would eat a finger-food meal on disposable dishes, discussing the talks we had heard that day. Conversations lasting into the wee hours of the next day often ensued, and I remember one such night when priesthood blessings were given by uncles to nephews. It was very dear to me, sacred. Traditions added spice
What would Jesus' original Church have looked like if it had not been swallowed up in a universal apostasy? You can hear the fabric of the Church tearing in the background of Paul's epistles as he frantically tries to correct false doctrines creeping into the Church. If he could have turned his epistles into world-wide satellite broadcasts, or internet transmissions, I feel certain he would have done so.
Before the saints were driven from Nauvoo, Joseph Smith proposed building a tabernacle, a large oval tent meant to seat eight thousand people. It was meant to sit right in front of the Nauvoo Temple. The canvas was purchased, but never used for the tent—instead, the Russian duck canvas was employed to cover wagons used in the forced exodus from Nauvoo. Regarding meeting houses, Joseph said that you could never get all the saints under one roof. The Tabernacle on Temple Square became a permanent version of the canvas tent intended for Nauvoo.
Now the only canopy capable of containing the saints is the sky itself, and technology has become the trump of God, allowing the leaders of the Church to keep the doctrine pure by reaffirming it every six months. "They say the same thing every time," a young friend of mine complained years ago. I said something like, "That's probably because we keep committing the same sins." New members of the Church need to hear some things familiar to me, because they are new for them. Review never hurts me, either. Beyond that, I have found that the indispensable ingredient of the teaching/hearing/learning process is the Holy Ghost. To listen to General Conference without it is like trying to drive a car without gasoline in the tank—it goes nowhere, and frustration results. The Holy Ghost brings the simple, familiar lessons to astonishing vibrancy, and makes new information available between the lines for individuals.
"Yea, wo be unto him that saith: We have received, and we need no more!...For behold, thus saith the Lord God: I will give unto the children of men line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little; and blessed are those who hearken unto my precepts, and lend an ear unto my counsel, for they shall learn wisdom; for unto him that receiveth I will give more; and from them that shall say, We have enough, from them shall be taken away even that which they have" (2Ne. 28:27, 30).
I find that new information and revelation is proportional to our willingness and readiness to receive it and live it. What do I need to get rid of? What do I need to obtain? What do I need to do? Answering these questions with action removes obstacles to personal revelation.
Bring several questions with you to conference, and listen for the answers. I showed up, somewhat reluctantly, for a priesthood meeting that was scheduled in the middle of the week last year. As I sat listening, I received a personal witness about something that had been troubling me. The inspiration had nothing to do with what the speaker was saying, but I knew I had been blessed with the knowledge I needed because I had showed up to do my duty by attending my meetings.
I think about how high of a stack of institutions General Conference rests on, and it is harder to take for granted. Freedom of speech and press, freedom of worship and religion, technological modern marvels, infrastructure for all the electricity and signals, satellites orbiting the planet, an army of technicians and translators, intercontinental air travel to bring authorities from their assigned fields of labor, and on and on. These things are all amazing in themselves, and yet they are not the central feature of Conference; without the Holy Ghost, it is all hollow. "...to whom shall we go? Thou has the words of eternal life" (John 6:68). Peter was not following Jesus for miracles or free bread, but because he felt the confirmation that what Jesus was teaching was absolutely true. I feel this way to a certain extent about the general authorities of the Church—they are representatives of Christ, standing in His place to say what He would if He came today. As such, the Spirit confirms the truth of their messages to me, and it engenders good feelings towards them, as well as a desire to do what is right.
"For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them" (Matt. 18:20). I do not know why, but interacting in a discussion of the gospel tends to bring the Spirit more strongly than private study. I do not discount private study; it is essential. But it seems that since heaven is "an innumerable company," the Lord confirms our person-to-person group study and discussion because it is preparation for heaven.
Anti-mormon protesters who congregate in the streets to harass the members attending conference are unwelcome evidence of the truth of the work. If it were false, there would be limited opposition. Strangely, people who generally hold to the idea that a belief in Christ is the same as a free ride into heaven come to tell fellow believers that they will be damned regardless of their belief. Meanwhile, the stringent Mormons who advocate obedience to the laws of the gospel as necessary for salvation speak messages of healing and forgiveness, teaching the mercy and grace of Christ toward sinners. It is very backward and counter-intuitive. If persecutors would rephrase their accusations in the form of sincere questions, they might be surprised to find that there are answers, and be surprised by how sweet and satisfactory they can be.
Pre-Conference opposition afflicts me more from the other side of the veil than from mortal antagonists. It seems that the law of "opposition in all things" applies to the abundant outpouring from heaven that characterizes General Conference. I get rain and snow from unworthy sources before getting to bask in the sunshine of love and light. Problems in life always seem to sharpen just before Conference weekend.
General Conference is an ingenious mechanism for keeping the doctrines of the Church, and the direction of its development, pure and true. Every time the Church has grown, technology has kept up pace to match
the growth, enabling cohesiveness that Paul and Peter and the early
church leaders could only dream about. And it is not dumped on people against their will. It is amazing to see people, especially young people, congregate with such eagerness to "feast upon the word." I am pleased to herald in a new installment of talks to ponder and study for the next six months.
