What does a good sacrament meeting talk look like, or sound like? I believe a congregation might be able to pray a poor speaker into a better one, and a mediocre one into a good one.
Imagine watching someone carrying a fragile, priceless vase or other significant artifact across a room littered with obstacles and extension cords. If you can imagine the feeling of concern you would have over the vase if the person carrying it began to chuckle, stagger, trip, carry the vase casually with one hand, or fail in anyway to safeguard the priceless item, then you can imagine the way I sweat when anyone approaches the podium on Sunday with the stated purpose of sharing the gospel. They all close their talks "in the name of Jesus Christ," but I sometimes wonder what Jesus would have said to us.
There are about 2500 pages in the LDS scriptures, and yet most speakers open them infrequently. Hugh Nibley has asserted that if Jesus or an angel were to appear, they would simply quote from the scriptures to us. It is disappointing when speakers end a travelogue, romance, tragedy, or personal album promotion in the name of Christ. Lest I become to critical, I will get to the main reason I wrote this blog: The joy of hearing good speakers in church.
D&C 50:17-22: "Verily I say unto you, he that is ordained of me and sent forth to preach the word of truth by the Comforter, in the Spirit of truth, doth he preach it by the Spirit of truth or some other way? And if it be by some other way it is not of God. And again, he that receiveth the word of truth, doth he receive it by the Spirit of truth or some other way? If it be some other way it is not of God. Therefore, why is it that ye cannot understand and know, that he that receiveth the word by the Spirit of truth receiveth it as it is preached by the Spirit of truth? Wherefore, he that preacheth and he that receiveth, understand one another, and both are edified and rejoice together."
This is the bar we are called to clear when we get up in front of the members of the congregation on Sunday. It is also the bar we as listeners are called to clear—both must have the Spirit. We cannot help putting our minds on parade when we stand up and speak for ten minutes. "...out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh" (Matt. 12:34). If our hearts are set on the things of this world, or the things of eternity, it will show through when we speak.
There are things we can do to improve the messages we deliver on Sunday. Here are my suggestions:
1. Obtain a witness of what the Lord wants us to speak about. Rather than assemble an op-ed piece, or think of the things most important to US, we have the privilege as members of the Church to kneel down in prayer and learn for ourselves what God wants the congregation to hear. It has been my experience over the last decade that the Lord cares deeply about each member of the congregation, and so will give me firm, direct promptings about what to include AND exclude from my talk. I whimper as I throw away what I consider to be my wittiest remarks and best insights into the scriptures, but it feels right to do it. I believe it is not enough to simply regurgitate a dictionary definition of the subject we are asked to speak on, or to dazzle the audience with our personal charm, magnetism, wit, and charisma. The gift of the Holy Ghost is given to each member, and we can know for ourselves what we should say in any given setting, let alone something as meaningful to the Lord as "feed[ing] [His] lambs." Follow the Spirit when deciding what to add to, or take away from, your talk.
2. Show up. I remember falling asleep on the sofa one Sunday as I was preparing to speak. When my cousin awoke me, it was fifteen minutes to the hour when the meeting began. I came through the door in the middle of the opening hymn, and walked up to my seat near the podium. It would have been better to arrive on time. Even worse is the knee-jerk Jonah-like reaction, in which you abandon your post and leave the bishopric to fend for themselves and improvise. A sister in the Young Women's organization of my home ward once asked me years ago if I would pose in front of her class as King Mosiah. I refused because I felt stage fright, but the guilt of the refusal still stings. If only I could go back and correct that action, or inaction, and agree to go along with it.
3. Say what the Lord prompts us to say. I have revised my talk while sitting on the stand before, adding or crossing out things, because of last-minute promptings. Sometimes the main point of the talk does not enter my mind until the "very hour" I am supposed to speak. This does not mean I am not prepared with a talk; rather, I am prepared to alter my talk to suit the promptings that come from the Lord. I have often had the experience of hearing great ideas come out of my mouth that I never heard before, and wish someone were writing them down for me, because I know the Lord is speaking through me. "And it came to pass that they would not suffer that he should enter into the city; therefore he went and got upon the wall thereof, and stretched forth his hand and cried with a loud voice, and prophesied unto the people whatsoever things the Lord put into his heart. And he said unto them: Behold, I, Samuel, a Lamanite, do speak the words of the Lord which he doth put into my heart..." (Hel. 13:4-5).
An adversarial college professor, critical of the Church, once asked which members of the class were "good Mormons." I failed to raise my hand because I got hung up on the word "good." Am I a good member of the Church? I frantically began reviewing my behavior, rather than raise my hand. One young man at the front of the class (BRAVO!) had the guts to raise his hand and absorb the mockery she dished out. I would give worlds to be able to go back and raise my hand with him.
4. Stop talking when the Spirit stops. Igor Stravinski lamented that some pieces of music end long before the musicians stop playing. I once sat on the stand holding a talk I gave next Sunday, because the speaker before me took all the time. He said nothing worth hearing, sadly. The bishopric told me I would speak first next Sunday, and that I should take all the time I wanted. I was miffed, and so prepared to deliver an even longer talk than the one I had planned. "I deserve" was the general feeling I had. But the next Sunday when I spoke, I felt prompted to stop speaking far earlier than I had planned. I had said enough, and enough was enough.
There are a few other points I might suggest. The above paragraph reminds me of a heuristic, a rule of thumb I devised for being able to tell when your talk is on target—when you overuse the word "I," as well as "me," "my," and "mine," it may be a sign that you are off target. Absence or minimal use of scripture may also be a red flag. It is also tempting to mistake intense emotionality for the Spirit. I remember a documentary about a tragic, horrible event, and how moving it was, but when I tried to distil a message, a therefore-what, instructions for better living, or even nuggets of new knowledge from the stories, I realized that I was coming away empty. It was empty calories for the spirit. Yes, it is moving that so-and-so had such-and-such traumatic experience, but the deep emotions evoked by the recounting of the story do not necessarily qualify it as a fitting subject for sacrament meeting.
I fear for myself, having written the barbed and blunt words above. The Lord smites hypocrites, and will not tolerate unkindness in His children, especially members of His Church. Being critical of others, rather than merciful and kind, is a dangerous state to be in. Recently, a speaker in Church gave a good talk, and she cleared all of the criteria listed above. She mentioned something wise her father had said, and I wondered if she gained her knowledge like Nephi, from "goodly parents." I was grateful for her edifying talk. Nephi was willing to kill Laban to get the scriptures to his posterity, and I repressed the urge to commit a lesser violent act myself a few weeks ago to make certain that investigator got an undiluted, uncontaminated dose of gospel knowledge, confirmed by the witness of the Holy Ghost. He deserved nothing less; the speaker had no right to deprive him of it while avoiding the generous ocean of scripture (2500 pages deep) collecting dust next to his hands on the lectern.
Of course, I lost the Spirit as I refused to be patient with this well-intentioned brother, the way the Lord is patient with me. And it was a learning experience for me, though not necessarily the kind I was expecting from sacrament meeting.
Imagine watching someone carrying a fragile, priceless vase or other significant artifact across a room littered with obstacles and extension cords. If you can imagine the feeling of concern you would have over the vase if the person carrying it began to chuckle, stagger, trip, carry the vase casually with one hand, or fail in anyway to safeguard the priceless item, then you can imagine the way I sweat when anyone approaches the podium on Sunday with the stated purpose of sharing the gospel. They all close their talks "in the name of Jesus Christ," but I sometimes wonder what Jesus would have said to us.
There are about 2500 pages in the LDS scriptures, and yet most speakers open them infrequently. Hugh Nibley has asserted that if Jesus or an angel were to appear, they would simply quote from the scriptures to us. It is disappointing when speakers end a travelogue, romance, tragedy, or personal album promotion in the name of Christ. Lest I become to critical, I will get to the main reason I wrote this blog: The joy of hearing good speakers in church.
D&C 50:17-22: "Verily I say unto you, he that is ordained of me and sent forth to preach the word of truth by the Comforter, in the Spirit of truth, doth he preach it by the Spirit of truth or some other way? And if it be by some other way it is not of God. And again, he that receiveth the word of truth, doth he receive it by the Spirit of truth or some other way? If it be some other way it is not of God. Therefore, why is it that ye cannot understand and know, that he that receiveth the word by the Spirit of truth receiveth it as it is preached by the Spirit of truth? Wherefore, he that preacheth and he that receiveth, understand one another, and both are edified and rejoice together."
This is the bar we are called to clear when we get up in front of the members of the congregation on Sunday. It is also the bar we as listeners are called to clear—both must have the Spirit. We cannot help putting our minds on parade when we stand up and speak for ten minutes. "...out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh" (Matt. 12:34). If our hearts are set on the things of this world, or the things of eternity, it will show through when we speak.
There are things we can do to improve the messages we deliver on Sunday. Here are my suggestions:
1. Obtain a witness of what the Lord wants us to speak about. Rather than assemble an op-ed piece, or think of the things most important to US, we have the privilege as members of the Church to kneel down in prayer and learn for ourselves what God wants the congregation to hear. It has been my experience over the last decade that the Lord cares deeply about each member of the congregation, and so will give me firm, direct promptings about what to include AND exclude from my talk. I whimper as I throw away what I consider to be my wittiest remarks and best insights into the scriptures, but it feels right to do it. I believe it is not enough to simply regurgitate a dictionary definition of the subject we are asked to speak on, or to dazzle the audience with our personal charm, magnetism, wit, and charisma. The gift of the Holy Ghost is given to each member, and we can know for ourselves what we should say in any given setting, let alone something as meaningful to the Lord as "feed[ing] [His] lambs." Follow the Spirit when deciding what to add to, or take away from, your talk.
2. Show up. I remember falling asleep on the sofa one Sunday as I was preparing to speak. When my cousin awoke me, it was fifteen minutes to the hour when the meeting began. I came through the door in the middle of the opening hymn, and walked up to my seat near the podium. It would have been better to arrive on time. Even worse is the knee-jerk Jonah-like reaction, in which you abandon your post and leave the bishopric to fend for themselves and improvise. A sister in the Young Women's organization of my home ward once asked me years ago if I would pose in front of her class as King Mosiah. I refused because I felt stage fright, but the guilt of the refusal still stings. If only I could go back and correct that action, or inaction, and agree to go along with it.
3. Say what the Lord prompts us to say. I have revised my talk while sitting on the stand before, adding or crossing out things, because of last-minute promptings. Sometimes the main point of the talk does not enter my mind until the "very hour" I am supposed to speak. This does not mean I am not prepared with a talk; rather, I am prepared to alter my talk to suit the promptings that come from the Lord. I have often had the experience of hearing great ideas come out of my mouth that I never heard before, and wish someone were writing them down for me, because I know the Lord is speaking through me. "And it came to pass that they would not suffer that he should enter into the city; therefore he went and got upon the wall thereof, and stretched forth his hand and cried with a loud voice, and prophesied unto the people whatsoever things the Lord put into his heart. And he said unto them: Behold, I, Samuel, a Lamanite, do speak the words of the Lord which he doth put into my heart..." (Hel. 13:4-5).
An adversarial college professor, critical of the Church, once asked which members of the class were "good Mormons." I failed to raise my hand because I got hung up on the word "good." Am I a good member of the Church? I frantically began reviewing my behavior, rather than raise my hand. One young man at the front of the class (BRAVO!) had the guts to raise his hand and absorb the mockery she dished out. I would give worlds to be able to go back and raise my hand with him.
4. Stop talking when the Spirit stops. Igor Stravinski lamented that some pieces of music end long before the musicians stop playing. I once sat on the stand holding a talk I gave next Sunday, because the speaker before me took all the time. He said nothing worth hearing, sadly. The bishopric told me I would speak first next Sunday, and that I should take all the time I wanted. I was miffed, and so prepared to deliver an even longer talk than the one I had planned. "I deserve" was the general feeling I had. But the next Sunday when I spoke, I felt prompted to stop speaking far earlier than I had planned. I had said enough, and enough was enough.
There are a few other points I might suggest. The above paragraph reminds me of a heuristic, a rule of thumb I devised for being able to tell when your talk is on target—when you overuse the word "I," as well as "me," "my," and "mine," it may be a sign that you are off target. Absence or minimal use of scripture may also be a red flag. It is also tempting to mistake intense emotionality for the Spirit. I remember a documentary about a tragic, horrible event, and how moving it was, but when I tried to distil a message, a therefore-what, instructions for better living, or even nuggets of new knowledge from the stories, I realized that I was coming away empty. It was empty calories for the spirit. Yes, it is moving that so-and-so had such-and-such traumatic experience, but the deep emotions evoked by the recounting of the story do not necessarily qualify it as a fitting subject for sacrament meeting.
I fear for myself, having written the barbed and blunt words above. The Lord smites hypocrites, and will not tolerate unkindness in His children, especially members of His Church. Being critical of others, rather than merciful and kind, is a dangerous state to be in. Recently, a speaker in Church gave a good talk, and she cleared all of the criteria listed above. She mentioned something wise her father had said, and I wondered if she gained her knowledge like Nephi, from "goodly parents." I was grateful for her edifying talk. Nephi was willing to kill Laban to get the scriptures to his posterity, and I repressed the urge to commit a lesser violent act myself a few weeks ago to make certain that investigator got an undiluted, uncontaminated dose of gospel knowledge, confirmed by the witness of the Holy Ghost. He deserved nothing less; the speaker had no right to deprive him of it while avoiding the generous ocean of scripture (2500 pages deep) collecting dust next to his hands on the lectern.
Of course, I lost the Spirit as I refused to be patient with this well-intentioned brother, the way the Lord is patient with me. And it was a learning experience for me, though not necessarily the kind I was expecting from sacrament meeting.
