It is sincerely a privilege for me to be on the BYU–Idaho campus this afternoon. I must admit that it is somewhat uncomfortable for me to address this student body in a devotional setting. For many years this institution has had the reputation of maintaining the highest standards for not only speakers to deliver a devotional talk but also for the students to receive the message.
Former President David A. Bednar shared a devotional on the BYU campus four years ago. During the opening hymn, I noticed that an unusually high number of students were dressed in Church clothes for this devotional. My recollection is that President Bednar talked briefly about the tradition of devotionals at BYU–Idaho. He then requested those students in the audience who had their scriptures to hold them up. It seemed like a third of those in attendance were holding scriptures high in the air with a broad smile on their faces. These students also were those who were appropriately dressed for the devotional. They were obviously former students of your institution and had been taught how to receive a devotional message. At that moment I was beginning to understand the high standards expected at BYU–Idaho devotionals.
Now you can understand why I feel more than a bit intimidated by this experience. It’s only because of the message that I have selected, one in which I have great faith, that gives me confidence to share a few thoughts with you today. My talk is entitled, “Personal Revelation—An Expression of God’s Love for His Children.” We are children of a loving Heavenly Father who wants us to find joy in this life and return to Him for eternity.
President Gordon B. Hinckley has stated: “God is the one sure source of truth. He is the fount of all inspiration . . . We are His children. Out of the love He bears for us, He will guide us if we will seek, listen, and obey.”[1]
One of my favorite stories that illustrates God’s love for His children is told by President Hugh B. Brown, former counselor in the First Presidency. President Brown begins:
I was living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying . . . I looked at it, and smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.” That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much that I answered . . . “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’”
. . . Years passed, and I found myself in England. I was in command of a cavalry unit in the Canadian Army. I had made rather rapid progress as far as promotions are concerned, and I held the rank of field officer in the British Canadian Army. And I was proud of my position. And there was an opportunity for me to become a general. I had taken all the examinations. I had the seniority. There was just one man between me and that which for ten years I had hoped to get, the office of general in the British Army . . . [When] this one man became a casualty . . . I received a telegram from London. It said: “Be in my office tomorrow morning at 10:00,” signed by General Turner in charge of all Canadian forces. I called in my valet, my personal servant. I told him to polish my buttons, to brush my hat and my boots, and to make me look like a general because that is what I was going to be. He did the best he could with what he had to work on, and I went up to London. I walked smartly into the office of the General, and I saluted him smartly, and he gave me the same kind of a salute a senior officer usually gives—a sort of “Get out of the way, worm!” He said, “Sit down, Brown.” Then he said, “I’m sorry I cannot make the appointment. You are entitled to it. You have passed all the examinations. You have the seniority. You’ve been a good officer, but I can’t make the appointment. You are to return to Canada and become a training officer and a transport officer. Someone else will be made a general.” That for which I had been hoping and praying for ten years suddenly slipped out of my fingers.
Then he went into the other room to answer the telephone, and I took a soldier’s privilege of looking on his desk. I saw my personal history sheet. Right across the bottom of it in bold, block-type letters was written, “THIS MAN IS A MORMON.” We were not very well liked in those days. When I saw that, I knew why I had not been appointed. I already held the highest rank of any Mormon in the British Army. He came back and said, “That’s all, Brown.” I saluted him again, but not quite as smartly. I saluted out of duty and went out. I got on the train and started back to my town, 120 miles away, with a broken heart, with bitterness in my soul. And every click of the wheels on the rails seemed to say, “You are a failure. You will be called a coward when you get home. You raised all those Mormon boys to join the army, then you sneak off home.” I knew what I was going to get, and when I got to my tent, I was so bitter that I threw my cap and my saddle brown belt on the cot. I clinched my fists and I shook them at heaven. I said, “How could you do this to me, God? I have done everything I could do to measure up. There is nothing that I could have done—that I should have done—that I haven’t done. How could you do this to me?”
And then I heard a voice, and I recognized the tone of this voice. It was my own voice, and the voice said, “I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to do.” The bitterness went out of my soul, and I fell on my knees by the cot to ask forgiveness for my ungratefulness and my bitterness. While kneeling there I heard a song being sung in an adjoining tent. A number of Mormon boys met regularly every Tuesday night. I usually met with them. We would sit on the floor and have a Mutual Improvement Association. As I was kneeling there, praying for forgiveness, I heard their voices singing:
It may not be on the mountain height
Or over the stormy sea;
It may not be at the battle’s front
My Lord will have need of me.
But if, by a still, small voice he calls
To paths that I do not know,
I’ll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in thine:
I’ll go where you want me to go.[2]
I arose from my knees a humble man. And now, almost fifty years later, I look up to him and say, “Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.”[3]
I first read this talk by President Brown as a teenager living in Provo, Utah. I later shared this talk many times with missionaries when I was teaching at the Missionary Training Center. Several years after my graduation from BYU, it became an inspired answer to my prayers at a pivotal point of my professional career when deep disappointment turned into faithful acceptance.
President Brown’s story of the gardener and the currant bush also teaches us another principle about revelation. Many times we think that Heavenly Father inspires us only about spiritual matters – giving a talk in church, understanding a scripture, or nudging us to bear testimony to a nonmember friend. I’m convinced that He is interested in all aspects of our life and is willing to reveal truth and wisdom if we are willing to listen.
President James E. Faust teaches:
Personal revelation comes as a testimony of truth and as guidance in spiritual and temporal matters. Members of the Church know that the promptings of the spirit may be received upon all facets of life, including daily, ongoing decisions.[4]
Recently I was invited to read the autobiography of Elder John A. Widtsoe, entitled In a Sunlit Land. It was fascinating for me to learn principles of administration at large universities through the eyes of an apostle. Elder Widtsoe presided over the Utah State Agricultural College, now Utah State University, followed by the same assignment at the University of Utah. He was highly accomplished in his own academic career, receiving his undergraduate degree at Harvard University and doctor of philosophy in Germany. Elder Widtsoe performed extensive research in the areas of agriculture and irrigation.
Like all great men, his life was not without challenges. The following excerpt from his autobiography illustrates the importance of personal revelation in Elder Widtsoe’s professional life.
The temple is particularly a place of revelation. Many experiences have proved it. Perhaps the most impressive is this: For several years, under a federal grant with my staff of workers, we had gathered thousands of data in the field of soil moisture; but I could not extract any general law running through them. I gave up at last. My wife and I went to the temple that day to forget the failure. In the third endowment room, out of the unseen, came the solution, which has long since gone into print.[5]
As students of BYU-Idaho, you are in an environment where you are being taught secular knowledge through the light of the gospel. I believe that a loving Heavenly Father continues to reach out to each one of you as you observe the intersections of secular and spiritual knowledge. This principle is illustrated by a letter from a BYU student to Elder Merrill J. Bateman when he was president of Brigham Young University:
Recently I sat in a physics class and had the Holy Ghost teach me. We were discussing fiber optics and how light travels perfectly through strands of plastic without losing energy. I realized as the lecture proceeded that all things point to Christ. Christ has all power and never “loses energy” as he influences our lives. I sat in awe at the understanding that came to me; not a physical understanding but a spiritual enlightenment filled my soul. I came out of that lecture on a spiritual high.[6]
The exciting and yet challenging aspect of personal revelation is we don’t know when or under what circumstances whisperings of the Holy Ghost will come. In January 1992, I attended a fireside where Gerald Lund, now a member of the Seventy, was the speaker. His topic was personal revelation. He shared the following statement that I have applied many times in my own life and in counseling others. “The Lord alone decides when revelation is given, to whom it is given, how it is given, and what is revealed.” I have found this statement to be totally consistent with gospel truths. Revelation is a gift from God, a perfect Father who loves each one of us.
Because our Heavenly Father determines when revelation will be given, it is our responsibility always to be prepared for receiving revelation. May I share four principles that will help us be prepared for the time when revelation comes to us.
First, be worthy – the Lord “doth not dwell in unholy temples.”[7] Perhaps it’s because of my affiliation with the Hawaiian saints that I’ve always liked the personal experience of Joseph F. Smith to illustrate the importance of worthiness. At the age of fifteen, Joseph F. Smith was called on a mission to the Hawaiian Islands. This future prophet of the Church relates the following personal revelation:
I was very much oppressed, once, on a mission. I was almost naked and entirely friendless, except the friendship of a poor, benighted, degraded people. I felt as if I was so debased in my condition of poverty, lack of intelligence and knowledge, just a boy, that I hardly dared look a white man in the face.
While in that condition I dreamed that I was on a journey, and I was impressed that I ought to hurry – hurry with all my might, for fear I might be too late. I rushed on my way as fast as I possibly could, and I was only conscious of having just a little bundle, a handkerchief with a small bundle wrapped in it. I did not realize just what it was, when I was hurrying as fast as I could; but finally I came to a wonderful mansion, if it could be called a mansion. It seemed too large, too great to have been made by hand, but I thought I knew that was my destination. As I passed towards it, as fast as I could, I saw a notice, “Bath.” I turned aside quickly and went into the bath and washed myself clean. I opened up this little bundle that I had and there was a pair of white, clean garments, a thing I had not seen for a long time, because the people I was with did not think very much of making things exceedingly clean. But my garments were clean, and I put them on. Then I rushed to what appeared to be a great opening, or door. I knocked and the door opened, and the man who stood there was the Prophet Joseph Smith. He looked at me a little reprovingly, and the first words he said: “Joseph, you are late.” Yet I took confidence and said:
“Yes, but I am clean – I am clean!”
When I awoke that morning I was a man, although only a boy. There was not anything in the world that I feared. I could meet any man or woman or child and look them in the face, feeling in my soul that I was a man every whit.[8]
Are there things – even small ones – in your life that prevent you from being worthy, that don’t allow you to have confidence in the presence of the Lord? If the Lord were to speak with you today, would you feel worthy to receive His counsel?
Principle number two—revelation usually comes line upon line. The prophet Nephi declared,
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.[9]
Elder Neal A. Maxwell reaffirmed this principle of measured inspiration:
We have a notable lack of capacity to appreciate things that, like water out of a fire hydrant, come in a rush. Hence the Lord meters out divine disclosure according to what is deserved and usable.[10]
A former colleague of mine, Alan L. Wilkins, was serving as Academic Vice President at BYU when he shared this insight as part of our University Conference. President Harold B. Lee was [his] grandfather. [Alan remembers] going to him as a young man, just finishing [his] senior year at BYU, trying to decide what [he] would be when [he] grew up. [Alan] took to [President Lee] [his] patriarchal blessing and asked him to read it and counsel [him]. [Alan thought] in [his] heart of hearts, though [he] would not have admitted it at the time, [he] expected that [President Lee’s] counsel would operate something like a crystal ball—that he would help [Alan] find [his] occupation or, even better, [his] wife, whom [he] still hadn’t found at that time.
[President Lee] read the blessing and then paused for a minute and said, “Alan, I think you worry too much about the future.”[11]
Alan related to the group that in hindsight he could see that the Lord was answering questions about his occupation and his eternal companion, line upon line, precept upon precept. Stating that it was one of his grandfather’s favorite hymns, Alan then recited the first verse of “Lead, Kindly Light”:
Lead, kindly light, amid th’ encircling gloom;
Lead thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home;
Lead thou me on!
Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene—one step enough for me.[12]
Do you have questions about your future? Do you have the patience and faith that your questions will be answered line upon line – or do you insist on knowing the end from the beginning?
Principle number three – ask the right question. We are better prepared to hear and understand the Lord’s answer when we ask the right question. In the Doctrine & Covenants, the Lord teaches,
And if ye are purified and cleansed from all sin, ye shall ask whatsoever you will in the name of Jesus and it shall be done.
But know this, it shall be given you what you shall ask . . .[13]
If we want to receive the right answer to our prayers, we need to ask the right question of the Lord. Many times the Lord inspires us to know which question to ask. May I share the following experience in my life.
Eight years ago we were living in Provo, Utah, and our young family was active in church and school programs. As a result of my calling in the stake, I was expected to attend a temple session one evening in preparation for a ward conference. Earlier that afternoon, I was to have a meeting in the Commissioner’s Office in Salt Lake City. My son’s high school team was playing in the state basketball tournament also in Salt Lake City. I felt like I should stay in Salt Lake and support him in the tournament, which meant I would not be able to attend the temple session that evening in Provo.
I was fixing a quick sandwich at home on my way to Salt Lake when I shared this conflict with my wife. She listened patiently, as she always does, and simply asked the question, “Does it really matter if you don’t go to the temple with the ward?” Like most wives, Debbie has the way of making complicated issues seem very simple.
I left for my meeting, but her question kept echoing in my ears. Did it really matter whether I was with the ward that evening in the temple? By the time I was halfway to Salt Lake City, I knew what I should do. I called the bishop on my cell phone, explained to him the situation, and asked to be excused from the temple session that evening. He encouraged me to support my son in the state tournament and reaffirmed to me the importance of putting families first.
I must admit that I remember neither the meeting in the Commissioner’s Office nor the basketball game at the Huntsman Center, but I do remember driving home with my 17-year-old son after the game. He was excited, even surprised, to see me at the game. We had a wonderful talk together.
The story doesn’t end there. I also remember the talk given by the bishop in sacrament meeting at the ward conference that Sunday. He was a wise priesthood leader with many years of leadership experience. His message that day in sacrament meeting was a familiar theme taught by President David O. McKay. “No other success can compensate for failure in the home.” He encouraged each of his ward members to put their families first and to have faith in the Lord’s promises through the sealing covenants.
It was my opportunity to share some remarks to close the meeting. My prepared talk was put away and I spoke from the heart, reaffirming the teachings of love and loyalty to the family we had just heard from this inspired bishop. How grateful I was that a loving Heavenly Father had given me the courage to do the right thing and miss a priesthood assignment to be with my son. This courage came because my wife had suggested the right question, “Does it really matter if you don’t go to the temple with the ward?”
Before I end this story, I suspect that some of you are bothered that I went to a basketball game instead of the temple. Let me add that I attended a temple session later in the week to complete my preparation for that ward conference.
Do you try to simplify your concerns into a single question? Do you tend to answer that question before the Lord touches your heart?
Remember that a young 14-year-old boy went to a grove of trees with a question to ask the Lord. When he asked a specific question, perhaps the right question, the heavens were opened and the last dispensation commenced.
The fourth and final principle is to act with faith. We need to exercise our faith and act on these spiritual impressions with a determination to carry out the Lord’s will. I believe we are more able to receive revelation if we already have decided to do what the Lord commands when He speaks to us.
This principle is illustrated in a dramatic fashion in the first chapters of the Book of Mormon. Nephi had just proclaimed his unwavering faith in the Lord, “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded . . .”[14] only to have that faith challenged by a remarkable test.
You’ll recall that Nephi and his brothers returned to Jerusalem to obtain the brass plates from Laban. After unsuccessful attempts, Nephi went alone and “was led by the Spirit . . . And as [he] came near unto the house of Laban, [he] beheld a man, and . . . found that it was Laban.”[15] Nephi beheld Laban’s sword and drew it from the sheath. Then Nephi reports:
And it came to pass that I was constrained by the Spirit that I should kill Laban; but I said in my heart: never at any time have I shed the blood of man. And I shrunk and would that I might not slay him . . .
And it came to pass that the Spirit said unto me again: Slay him, for the Lord hath delivered him into thy hands;
Behold the Lord slayeth the wicked to bring forth his righteous purposes. It is better that one man should perish than that a nation should dwindle and perish in unbelief.[16]
With this important insight, Nephi was able to understand the purposes of the Lord and obey His command with exactness. Nephi “took Laban by the hair of the head, and (he) smote his head with his own sword.”[17]
Sometimes we don’t have the luxury of understanding the Lord’s purposes before we need to act. Nevertheless, we are still expected to exercise our faith and respond obediently to the spiritual impression. May I share a personal example that, although it’s not nearly as dramatic as Nephi’s experience, has given me satisfaction that maybe once I had the courage to follow the whisperings of the Spirit.
About ten years ago I was serving as a stake president. During one of my visits to a sacrament meeting, a young priest struggled with reading the sacrament prayer for the bread. After four unsuccessful attempts, he asked one of the other priests to say the sacrament prayer. As the deacons passed the bread to the congregation, I glanced at this young priest who sat embarrassed with his head down. Since we had just moved into the stake a year before, I did not know him or his family.
In an instant, two thoughts came into my mind. This young man must not have negative thoughts or experiences related to the sacrament. Second, he should say the blessing on the water. I turned to the bishop at my side and asked him to invite the young priest to say the sacrament prayer for the water. The bishop looked at me surprised and asked, “Are you sure?” I nodded my head, yes.
The bishop leaned forward and caught the attention of one of the other priests. He nudged this young priest, who looked at the bishop. The bishop clearly whispered, “Say the prayer on the water.” I glanced at the young priest out of the corner of my eye. This young priest had the same look of surprise that the bishop did just a moment before, but the young priest’s face also had a look of terror.
Then the reality of what I had initiated began to sink in. What if the young priest were not able to say the blessing on the water successfully? At what point do we have him stop trying? Was I right to put this young man in a position of further embarrassing himself?
I knew that the impressions that I had felt were from the Holy Ghost, but questions such as these continued through my mind. So I began to pray. I suspect that I was not the only one on the stand who was praying while the bread was being passed.
The deacons returned with the bread trays. The priests reverently placed the bread trays on the sacrament table. The cloth was lifted to cover the bread trays and uncover the water trays. Then this young priest knelt down to pray. I listened to each word as it came clearly from his mouth. I would not have been paying more attention if I were giving the prayer myself. As he finished the blessing on the water and pronounced the final word “amen,” the congregation seemed to give their approving “amen” with more clarity and conviction than normal. This congregation, filled with experienced Church leaders and loving families, had recognized the situation and were grateful for this young man’s success.
In the next two years, I had the opportunity to interview this young man to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, prepare his papers for full-time missionary service, interview him to enter the House of the Lord, and set him apart to serve in the North Carolina Charlotte Mission. With each opportunity of meeting with him, I asked the young man if he remembered the experience at the sacrament table. He always answered, “Oh, yes.” And it was always with a smile and a look of gratitude for priesthood leaders who had confidence in him to perform the sacred ordinance of the sacrament.
My reflection on this and similar experiences reminds me that when I allow doubts about following the Spirit to enter my mind, it’s because I fear man more than God. In other words, I’m more concerned about the outward consequences of embarrassment or ridicule from another person than to follow the sacred impressions from our Heavenly Father.
This important lesson was taught to the young prophet Joseph Smith when he allowed the 116 pages of the original manuscript to be lost. The Lord’s counsel to him included the clear principle “you should not have feared man more than God.”[18]
When you seek the Lord’s counsel, do you have the determination of Nephi to do whatever the Lord commands? Do you become distracted by the effects of possible consequences? Do you fear God more than man?
As part of the great plan of happiness, we have knowledge that each of us is a child of God. Our Heavenly Father wants us to be happy in this life and prepared to live with Him as families forever. As a loving Father, He reaches out and communicates with us, spirit to spirit, through personal revelation. Personal revelation is a divine expression of His love to each of us, His children.
In summary, four steps we can take to be ready when revelation comes are:
- Be worthy
- Remember that knowledge is usually revealed line upon line
- Ask the right question
- Act with faith
May each of us be prepared for receiving His counsel and then may we obey with exactness, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Notes
[1] Teachings of Gordon B. Hinckley, p.555
[2] Hymns, no. 270
[3] Hugh B. Brown, “The Currant Bush,” New Era, Jan. 1973, p. 14
[4] “Communion with the Holy Spirit,” Ensign, May 1980, p. 13
[5] In a Sunlit Land, John A. Widtsoe, p. 177
[6] “Learning in the Light of Truth,” Merrill J. Bateman, BYU Annual University Conference, 21 August 2000
[7] Alma 7:21
[8] Gospel Doctrine, p. 542-3
[9] 2 Nephi 28:30
[10] Quotes from Neal A. Maxwell, p. 289
[11] “Reaching the Heights Prophets Have Envisioned for Us,” Alan L. Wilkins, BYU Annual University Conference, 26 August 1996
[12] Hymns, no. 97
[13] Doctrine & Covenants 50:29-30
[14] 1 Nephi 3:7
[15] 1 Nephi 4:6-8
[16] 1 Nephi 4:10, 12-13
[17] 1 Nephi 4:18
[18] Doctrine & Covenants 3:7