On Progress and Consistency

We're not big fans of blinking Christmas lights at our house.  I think I grew up with "blinkers" of various types — large and small, colored and clear.  But perhaps because of my wife's southern heritage and east-coast upbringing, we ended up with more simple and traditional decorations.  We use only steady white lights on our simple tree, and I like it that way.

I suppose the blinking of Christmas lights is intended to simulate the flickering of a candle (used as decorations when my mother was a child in Germany), or maybe the twinkling of stars.  Maybe it's just a gimmick to attract more attention.  But this year, another analogy came to my mind.

The Hosanna Shout

David Kenison, Orem, Utah, david@kenison.net
Written July 2001; updated September 2012, April 2020

---

Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints all around the world have been blessed by the remarkable wave of temple dedications in recent years.  Saints who longed to receive temple blessings but could only dream of doing so because of the time and expense involved, have had the chance not only to receive the ordinances for themselves but also to begin to serve by performing vicarious ordinances.  And tens, even hundreds of thousands have been privileged to attend sacred dedicatory services.

BEGINNINGS IN KIRTLAND

The Kirtland Temple

One of the special events associated with Temple dedications and other sacred occasions is the “Hosanna Shout.”  In our dispensation, this tradition started with the dedication of the Kirtland Temple in 1836.  Joseph shared the inspired dedicatory prayer, ending with these words:

"And help us by the power of thy Spirit, that we may mingle our voices with those bright, shining seraphs around thy throne, with acclamations of praise, singing Hosanna to God and the Lamb!
"And let these, thine anointed ones, be clothed with salvation, and thy saints shout aloud for joy. Amen, and Amen." (D&C 109:79-80)

Thoughts on Instinct and Conversion

[In September 2010, Bonnie and I had the privilege of spending a few weeks in England.  We enjoyed the visit tremendously, and had some great experiences.  Shortly after returning, I spoke at a stake fireside and shared thoughts related to one aspect of that trip and the lessons I learned from it.  This is a summary of that talk.]

Pinto station wagon, similar to my first
car – a 1973 model I drove through my
high school and college years

I recently had an experience that has given me much to think about.  I've been driving a car for over 37 years, and estimate that I have driven perhaps some 3 million miles during that time.  I've driven lots of different cars, but the fundamental aspects of driving have not changed much.  With minor variations on a given day, I have done the same things in the same way, time and time again, mile after mile.

I don't recall much of the experience of when I learned to drive (bless my mother's patient heart).  But it was interesting as an adult to help my children go through that time and watch their learning process.  Initially, for most new drivers, there is some degree of tentativeness and uncertainty, even trepidation and concern.  New drivers are so wonderfully cautious!  It seems that every action takes conscious thought – when do I lift my foot from the brake, how hard do I press the accelerator, when do I start the blinker, how sharply do I turn the wheel to make this corner, etc.  The effect is even greater if you watch someone learning to drive a standard transmission, where they have to coordinate pushing in the clutch, shifting the gears, letting out the clutch gradually, and applying just the proper acceleration at just the right time.

Two sides to every story

Each year on February 23, my mother used to have her own personal "day of mourning."  That was the anniversary of the day in 1945 when her hometown, Pforzheim (in southern Germany), was obliterated by an allied bombing attack.  That's now been 67 years, and Mom is no longer here to mourn.  So perhaps I'll stand in for her.

Mom had a book documenting the attack titled "Der Untergang Einer Stadt" (The Downfall of a City) that she would read and reread, looking at the pictures for hours.

Wonder and Awe

There's a lovely, poignant poem written over a century ago by a poet named Elizabeth Allen titled "Rock Me to Sleep" (read whole poem) that begins:

"Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!"

I feel that kind of emotion at this season. Christmas has so many blessings to enjoy, including the wonderful music and decorations and foods and traditions. But there's a special joy in observing the eyes of a child gazing on a Christmas tree, or a display of lights, or opening presents, or even better, watching them share a reenactment of the sacred story of this season. Much of the wonder and joy of Christmas for me has always been to feel the simple happiness of children and be blessed by it.

I'm now in that awkward season of life when my own children are too old to fill that role, and I don't yet have grandchildren to bless my life. So I am seeking in new ways to claim the wonder and awe of the season.

"Wonder and awe" – I love those words. In one of our familiar carols, we sing of the "wondering awe" that wise men must have felt to see the prophesied signs in the heavens. The scriptures don't actually tell us the wise men felt that – only that they saw the sign and came to inquire. We can imagine how it must have touched their hearts. When the star led them to the manger, they "rejoiced with exceeding great joy" (Matt 2:10). Certainly the shepherds in the fields felt strong emotion; at first, they were "sore afraid" (which is not the same as wonder and awe) but as they heard and understood the message of the heavenly choir, I think their feelings turned quickly to "wonder and awe" and they eagerly ran to seek the baby in Bethlehem.

Diligently

In a recent study session, I considered the word “diligently” in D&C 88. I was a bit surprised to notice that there are four different applications of the word within that single revelation:

• v. 63 - “seek me diligently”
• v. 78 - “teach ye diligently”
• v. 84- “labor diligently”
• v. 118 - “seek ye diligently”

I looked up the word “diligent” in an online dictionary via my Treo phone (lookwayup.com) and found this definition:

Quietly and steadily persevering especially in detail or exactness

As I applied that interesting definition to each of those four instances, in their context, I was amazed at the breadth of counsel and challenge being provided by the Lord! I’ve learned to appreciate the subtle power of words and how the meanings and definitions of the words chosen by the Lord can truly bless and help.

The smallest part which I feel

Early in the Book of Mormon, Nephi expressed frustration with the challenge of putting his thoughts into writing. He was more comfortable with speaking, noting that "when a man speaketh by the power of the Holy Ghost the power of the Holy Ghost carrieth it unto the hearts of the children of men" (2 Ne 33:1). I've never quite understood why Nephi seemed to believe that the power of the Holy Ghost couldn't perform the same service for written words; I have very many times felt that it has for me.

Communication is a fascinating concept. We start with a thought or a feeling or a belief. In order to convey one of those abstract items to another person, we usually formulate it into words, either written or spoken. Then we hope the recipient can "decode" those words into a thought or belief similar to ours.

Some thoughts are relatively easy to translate into words: my name is David, this is a car, today is cloudy. We're pretty sure the meaning of those statements is being received by a listener. But other things, perhaps the more abstract and complicated ones, are not so easy to communicate.

There are at least two challenges in the process of communication: the originator's ability to put his thoughts into words, and the recipient's ability to receive and translate the words into the proper mental images or understanding. We often assume as the originator that the message "gets through," when that's often not the case — as someone once quipped, “I know you believe you understand what you think I said, but I’m not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant” (attributed to Robert McCloskey).

Hence Nephi's hesitance about putting thoughts into writing. He apparently felt that the immediate feedback of a direct spoken conversation instead of a written record helped give the assurance of proper communication. And perhaps more importantly, the presence of the Holy Ghost as a communication aid gave a better chance of success in the process.