Farewell Talk

Living more By the Spirit

It has been said, “A great public speaker will have his audience laughing and crying in the same speech.” I am going to attempt doing this today.

There is a certain process that every human being goes through; specific foods will cause this process. They will build up gasses in the intestines; the gasses will continue to increase, causing more and more pressure. Until that pressure is released out the rear end of the human, this process is more commonly known as a, “toot”, “passing gas”, or “letting one rip”. Giving a talk is like “passing gas”, everyone close to me will be affected, but only I will feel relief afterwards.

I have been given the grand opportunity to speak to you today on Living more by the Spirit. As I was studying the material for this talk, I felt the best way to truly explain Living more by the Spirit, was to break it up into three subcategories or questions. Those questions were, Why should I live more by the Spirit, How can I live more by the Spirit, and When should I live more by the Spirit.

Why?

Ezra Taft Benson said, “Spirituality—being in tune with the Spirit of the Lord—is the greatest need we all have. We should strive for the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost all the days of our lives. When we have the Spirit, we will love to serve, we will love the Lord, and we will love those with whom we serve, and those whom we serve.

“Several years after Joseph Smith was martyred, he appeared to President Brigham Young. Hear his message:

“ ‘Tell the people to be humble and faithful, and be sure to keep the spirit of the Lord and it will lead them right. Be careful and not turn away the small still voice; it will teach you what to do and where to go; it will yield the fruits of the kingdom. Tell the brethren to keep their hearts open to conviction, so that when the Holy Ghost comes to them, their hearts will be ready to receive it.’

“The Lord has prospered this work and will continue to do so. He is close to His servants, even within whispering distance.

“This latter-day work is spiritual. It takes spirituality to comprehend it, to love it, and to discern it. Therefore, seek the Spirit in all you do. Keep it with you continually. That is our challenge.”

Imagine getting a gift for your birthday, huge box, pretty wrapping paper, you know what this present should be, but you’re still not sure. Would you not open it? Would you just set it aside, and forget about it? Now imagine, you giving a present to somebody, and they thanked you, and set the present aside without opening it. How would you feel? Offended? Hurt? You would probably feel giving that present was a waste of your time and money?

In D&C 88:33, it says, “For what doth it profit a man if a gift is bestowed upon him, and he receive not the gift? Behold, he rejoices not in that which is given unto him, neither rejoices in him who is the giver of the gift.”

Let us not offend or hurt the Lord by not being in Tune with the spirit. Let us hope that He rejoices in us for obeying the promptings and teachings of the spirit.

How?

Henry B. Eyring said, “Heavenly Father has given a simple pattern for us to receive the Holy Ghost not once but continually in the tumult of our daily lives. The pattern is repeated in the sacramental prayer: We promise that we will always remember the Savoir. We promise to take His name upon us. We promise to keep His commandments. And we are promised that if we do that, we will have His Spirit to be with us. Those promises work together in a wonderful way to strengthen our testimonies and in time, through the Atonement, to change our natures as we keep our part of the promise.”

So those three, basic promises, Remember the Savoir, take His name upon us, and keep the commandments, we will receive the Holy Ghost, receive it, but how do we live more by the Spirit? Simply by keeping the commandments and listening and obeying the headings of the Spirit.

Last year, I had the chance to exercise the promptings of the Holy Ghost. I was coming home from work one day by the Frontrunner, my friend, who worked with me at the time, and I sat down together. As the train started to depart a man came and sat near us, he minded his own business for a while, then turned and started talking to me, my friend was resting her eyes, right of the bat I could tell that he was drunk, because he told me he was drunk. As the discussion progressed, it soon turned to the Gospel. He confessed that he was once a Latter-Day Saint, but grew inactive due to the services he rendered in the Army. At first, I have to admit, I was only talking back to impress my friend who sat besides me, but as the topic of the conversation stayed on the gospel, I could feel the Spirit inside me, guiding me, telling me what to say. I loved that feeling. Our stop came, and the man and I shook hands, I wished him luck, I have never seen or heard of him again. Yet I know he is doing better in his life.

When?

This question is fairly easy to answer, but, I am going to read a story first:

It’s titled “The File Room”

“In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index-card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemed endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read, “Girls I Have Liked.” I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match.

A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with my horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone were watching. A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I Have Betrayed.”

The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “Books I Have Read,” “Lies I Have Told,” “Comfort I Have Given,” “Jokes I Have Laughed At.” Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve Yelled at My Brothers.” Others I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I have Done in Anger,” “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.” I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped.

The sheer volume of the life I had lived overwhelmed me. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked “Songs I Have Listened To,” I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, ashamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked “Lustful Thoughts,” I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to text it’s size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke over me. One thought dominated my mind: “No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room!”

“I have to destroy them!” In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated an utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With.” The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled out its hand and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one?

Finally, He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

“No!” I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine, It was written in His blood.

He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.” I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.”

The answer is, as you all should know, is that now, now we should live by the Spirit. Now, not tomorrow, we should do what It tells us to do. Now. Let us not procrastinate the day of repentance, Brother and Sisters; let us rejoice in the Gospel of Christ. Living with his Spirit thriving through our veins.

I like to bear my testimony, I know the Savior loves me, I have been through so much, and he has always been my constant guide. I want to be more like my Elder Brother, I will strive throughout all my life, that is my eternal goal, become perfect like Jesus. I would like to thank my friends and family, you have touched my heart. You have been such good examples to me. I know that the Holy Ghost should be received continuously, and that we must seek its constant companionship.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ,

Amen