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Hymns
Unlock the Windows of Heaven
by
Claudia Goodman
We
all recognize the vast power of music as the universal language.
We can be working in the other room during a TV show or video and
know almost precisely what is happening without ever hearing a word
or seeing a picture, because of the music playing in the background.
Music of all kinds has a profound effect upon our lives; however,
this article will focus on using the hymns to bless our homes.
The
First Presidency has told us, "Music has boundless powers for moving
families toward greater spirituality and devotion to the gospel...We
hope the hymnbook will take a prominent place among the scriptures
and other religious books in our homes." (Preface to the Hymnbook,
p. x, 1985) Why not take advantage of this powerful tool in shaping
the spirit in our families? We can use the hymns to enhance family
scripture study, family home evening, and family prayer. We can
sing hymns as we work, play, and travel. And we can use them to
express the deepest feelings of our hearts.
Hymns can be
used in countless ways. So many resources are available to assist
us: beautiful recordings, arrangements of our favorite hymns, recorded
accompaniments that we can use to help our families learn, simplified
arrangements of the hymnbook for budding young pianists, and so
on. With so many possibilities at our fingertips, it is very easy
to use the hymns to enhance our daily lives.
In addition,
we can make sure that we have at least one copy of the hymnbook
in our homes, perhaps several, to be used at family home evening,
family scripture study, and other activities. Small leather-bound
hymnbooks can be carried along in a scripture case and make great
gifts for family members of all ages.
Perhaps home
is the best place of all to become thoroughly familiar with the
hymns. It doesn't really matter whether you can sing or not. Even
if you can't carry a tune, you can sing along with an accompaniment
tape, recording, or piano. The main thing is to raise your voice
in praise to the Lord with your family. Young children love repetition,
so you can use the same hymn for several days or weeks until they
have it memorized. Everyone enjoys singing hymns they know well,
and the words are powerful. The more hymns you can memorize, the
greater the number of times you can call upon them in times of need.
When some of
our girls were in high school and college, they decided to learn
as many hymns as they could. They sang them on the way to and from
school, and over time it was amazing how many they learned. It seemed
they were always singing.
There is no
way to measure the full impact that the hymns have on our lives.
But as we implement them we will find that they are valuable tools
which maximize our efforts in many areas:
First, hymns
invite the spirit. They set the tone wherever they are used.
A rousing hymn can be a wake-up call for early-morning family scriptures.
A reverent hymn can be a signal that it is time for family home
evening to begin. Often hymns change the mood without you ever saying
a word. Quiet recordings can provide gentle "go-to-sleep" or "time-to-wake-up"
music. Hymns can invite children to feast on the spirit almost without
realizing it.
Every time we
walk around the Mesa Temple grounds, my husband Steve takes me over
to the east side among a grove of orange trees. "This is where I
was standing," he says softly, "when I got my testimony of Joseph
Smith. I was only eight years old, and we had come to do baptisms
for the dead. (Back in those days eight-year-olds were allowed to
do baptisms for the dead.) As I stood there with the group I had
come with, we sang the hymn 'O, How Lovely Was the Morning.' I was
overcome with a strong burning witness that Joseph Smith was a prophet.
I have always loved that hymn, because each time I sing it, it bears
witness to me again that Joseph Smith is indeed a prophet." A beautiful
hymn had created an atmosphere where the spirit could bear witness
to a young boy of the truthfulness of the gospel.
Second, hymns
enhance learning. It is a well-proven fact that putting words
to music greatly increases the retention rate. A few examples are
the Articles of Faith and books of the Old and New Testaments and
Book of Mormon set to music. Anyone who knows those songs has the
Articles of Faith and the books of the Bible and Book of Mormon
memorized for life. Also the song about Latter-day Prophets commits
the names of all the modern prophets to memory. As we memorize the
hymns, our capacity to memorize and retain what we have learned
increases, and the music adds feeling and power.
Third, hymns
reinforce gospel principles. "I am a child of God, and He has
sent me here." "The spirit will guide, and deep inside I know the
scriptures are true." "Ere you left your room this morning, did
you think to pray?" "As I have loved you, love one another." The
list could go all the way through the hymnbook. Do you ever recall
a general conference where at least one hymn was not quoted? The
hymns are doctrinally correct and teach us countless true principles
in fresh ways that we can internalize and remember.
When I was in
college I was assigned to intern in the first grade. A few days
before we were to start, the supervisor called me in, explaining
that one of the other student teachers wanted my position in first
grade and asked how I would feel about switching to another grade.
I replied that I really wanted to stay in first grade, but that
I was willing to support their decision.
After I left
the room, I went out to my car and bowed my head over the steering
wheel. For some reason I had very strong feelings that I was supposed
to be in that first grade class. I pled with the Lord to help things
work out the way they were supposed to, because I was powerless
to do anything more. Then the words to a hymn I had memorized a
few weeks earlier gently filled my mind: "So trusting my all to
thy tender care, and knowing thou lovest me, I'll do thy work with
a heart sincere. I'll be what you want me to be." My heart was filled
with peace. I knew that the Lord was watching over me and that I
didn't have to worry anymore. He would take care of me. The next
day the supervisor informed me that they would be leaving me in
first grade. Even more important than the answer I received was
the trust I developed in my Heavenly Father, a trust which I discovered
through the words of a hymn.
Fourth, hymns
create memories. So often hymns we learned or sang at special
times in our past bring back those special feelings every time we
hear them. Whenever I sing "O Ye Mountains High," I involuntarily
look up, picturing the clearing in the trees at a family reunion
held up in the mountains. The sky was the bluest I had ever seen,
framed by tall pine trees pointing to heaven and accompanied by
a clear, bubbling stream. I felt the power of our pioneer ancestors
who had paid such a high price for the saints to build their settlements
in those mountain tops, and I rejoiced with them.
Once as we sang,
"I Love to See the Temple," my young son said, "Oh Mom, that's my
favorite song. Grandma always sings that as we drive by the temple."
Without realizing it, my mother had instilled in her grandchildren
a deep love of the temple and a testimony of its importance.
One of my children's
favorite Christmas traditions is one they invented themselves—just
singing the carols together—the "real" Christmas songs from
the hymnbook. They don't even need an accompaniment. They just sing
together for the joy of singing and being together! And amidst the
fun they are creating priceless memories.
Fifth, hymns
express joy. How many accounts are in the scriptures of those
who were so filled that they could not contain the joy they felt,
and they burst into song? The angels at Christ's birth could not
be held back from singing their praises to God. When our hearts
are ready to burst with gratitude, what better way to express that
joy than through music?
I smile every
time I remember watching our grandchildren, three-year-old Lucy
and two-year-old Nathan, perform their version of the Christmas
nativity. Lucy, draped in a bath towel, came in riding on Nathan's
back. "This is my donkey," she announced, beaming. Then as he ducked
his head so that she slid off, she added, "I think he's tired."
Most of the rest of the pageant consisted of the two of them dancing
and running at top speed through the house waving make-shift batons
(sticks) and singing at the top of their lungs, all the verses of
at least eight of the Christmas carols found in the hymnbook. I
was absolutely amazed. They knew more of the words than I did!
I asked our
son Shawn and his wife Amy how their children had learned so many
carols. They shrugged and said they had merely played the church's
CDs containing the hymns at bedtime each night. Children have the
most remarkable memories. If we just fill them with good things,
their minds are free to express the great joy they feel.
In preparation
for bedtime each night, our daughter Melissa and her husband Slate
play some of the more rousing hymns for their children to dance
to. What a great way to use up all that bottled energy that seems
to have no end! As I watch Bresciana and David dance enthusiastically
and tirelessly around the room, I see their exhuberance expressed
in joyful celebration.
Sixth, hymns
build love and unity. The Lord has told us explicitly again
and again that "if ye are not one, ye are not mine," and that "contention
is not of me." Many things in life can make us feel a little distant
from each other, but there is something about the hymns that often
instantly dissolves the abrasiveness and replaces it with love and
closeness.
I first discovered
the tremendous effectiveness of the hymns in restoring love and
unity while we were driving on a long car trip. It was past bedtime,
and with a car full of children, there was no way for anyone to
get comfortable enough to sleep. (I'm sure most of you have experienced
this situation!) There were a few jabs, some tears, and a lot of
complaints. I had admonished the children time and time again to
share, to love each other, to speak kindly, etc. etc., etc. There
were really no good options left that I could see. Then for some
reason I began to sing a hymn. In less than a minute all the contention
stopped, and soon other voices joined mine. There was no complaining
for the rest of the trip. After that, singing in the car became
one of our favorite pastimes. We all loved it and felt so close
to one another. It truly created a bond of love between us.
One night I
was very frustrated and discouraged about something—I don't
even remember what. Finally I walked outside and sat on our porch
swing to be alone. I didn't want to rub off on anyone else at that
point. After a few minutes my daughter Andrea slipped out and sat
down beside me. I wasn't in any mood to talk to anyone, and I definitely
didn't want to be cheered up. After a brief exchange Andrea suggested,
"Why don't we sing a hymn?"
"I don't feel
like it," I replied. Andrea thought for a minute and then said,
"Do you mind if I sing then?" I told her I didn't feel like listening
to anything either, but after a few moments she began to softly
sing some hymns. Before she got through the first verse, I felt
tears running down my cheeks, and by the second song I joined her
in singing. Without a word, without an admonition or suggestion,
my daughter had filled me with the love in her heart and pointed
my thoughts to heaven, to the ultimate Healer. My unhappy feelings
dissolved, and I felt valued and loved.
Finally, hymns
bring peace and comfort. It is significant that one of the last
things the Savior and Joseph Smith both did before their deaths
was draw on the strength of the hymns. Joseph Smith asked John Taylor
to sing "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief" for him twice, just before
the mob came. And Jesus Christ sang a hymn with His disciples before
they entered the Garden of Gethsemane. When those times of greatest
difficulty and suffering come, the hymns can speak peace to the
soul in a way that nothing else can.
Five
years ago our family was involved in a tragic car accident that
claimed the lives of three of our children, David, age 12, Peter,
age 11, and LeAnne, age 10. In addition, my husband Steve and two
other daughters were not expected to live and were life-flighted
to two different hospitals. I came upon the scene about a half hour
later. Gradually all our family members were contacted and gathered
together at LDS Hospital, where my husband and one daughter hovered
between life and death. The following account is taken from my book,
Parting the Red Sea One Bucket at a Time.
When
the family all arrived, they suddenly realized that Julianne was
missing. She had gone to the annual Christmas Fireside on Temple
Square a few blocks away. Rick Wooden, a friend of the family, had
for some reason felt compelled to follow them to the hospital. He
kept telling himself that he didn't belong in such an intimate setting,
yet he couldn't ignore his feelings. When he realized that Julianne
was not there, he knew why he had come. She must not hear about
the accident on the radio as she traveled home from the fireside
with her friends. He must find her!
He
hurried to Temple Square, wondering how he could possibly locate
her among the seven thousand people attending the fireside and milling
all over the temple grounds to view the Christmas lights. Another
more immediate problem presented itself: where would he park?
As
he drove, a peaceful calm settled over him, and the anxiety left.
Just as he reached Temple Square, a car pulled out in front of him.
He steered into the empty parking space and gratefully hurried toward
the Tabernacle. He approached the first man he saw standing outside
one of the doors. After he explained his concern, the man informed
him that he was the main security officer on Temple Square and the
only one who could help him. The fireside was almost over, so he
hurriedly wrote a note and had it delivered to President Hinckley,
who was conducting the meeting.
Julianne
described what happened next:
Just
before the closing prayer, President Hinckley announced, "There
is an emergency message for Rick Wooden. Please go to the west gate."
"Rick
Wooden?" I mused. "He's in my home ward." My curiosity and hope
that everything was okay lasted only through the closing prayer.
Then I quickly jumped up, anxious to rejoin my friends outside the
Assembly Hall.
As
I started to push through the crowd of people in the doorway, the
loudspeaker came again. "The last message was in error. There is
an emergency message for Julianne Goodman. Please meet Rick Wooden
at the west gate."
My
pulse quickened. Of course, I knew nothing was terribly wrong—was
it? I quickly yet mindlessly walked to the gate. Rick was not there.
I breathlessly questioned the sister missionaries who were standing
nearby. "I'm Julianne Goodman. There was an emergency message for
me to meet Rick Wooden at the west gate. Do you know where he is?"
One
of the sisters gently said, "This is the east gate."
I
didn't wait for explanations. My knotted stomach forced my legs
into action, and I ran across Temple Square to the west gate. My
anxious face scanned the crowd until my eyes met those of Rick Wooden.
"What's
wrong?" I pleaded.
Rather
than answer my question, Rick inquired, "Did you come here with
a friend?"
"Yes,"
I responded impatiently. What did that have to do with anything?
"Do you know where she is?"
"I'm
supposed to meet her at the fountain outside the Assembly Hall,"
I responded, unsure.
"Let's
go find her." As we walked, Rick asked me conversational questions
about the devotional. I answered each calmly, but it was all I could
do not to burst out, "Why don't you just tell me what happened?
Is our house burned down? Or worse, is somebody hurt?"
After
an eternity we reached the fountain where Emily waited, forehead
creased in worry. Rick invited her to come with us, and suggested,
"Why don't we go sit down in the Assembly Hall?" He guided us to
the bench in the very back row. The building was mostly empty—only
twenty or thirty people remained inside.
I
sat on the bench and focused my question-filled eyes on Rick's face.
It was quiet a moment before Rick took a breath and began.
"This
isn't something someone your age should have to deal with." I looked
at him wordlessly, not understanding.
"You
know that intersection at 11400 South and 700 East? Well, your dad
was driving home this afternoon, and there was an accident. Your
dad, Andrea, and Aimee are in stable, but critical condition—and—David,
Peter, and LeAnne—" I waited for him to say they were okay,
"—went Home tonight."
My
ears filled with the bitterest, soul-deep cry that I'd ever heard.
No, not a cry, but the noise of anguish. With a start, I realized
that I was making that noise. Everyone in the room was staring at
me, but I didn't care. Didn't they know that the world had died
tonight?
This
awful thing couldn't be true—it wasn't supposed to happen that
way! My mind desperately groped for a hope that somehow this unbearable
pain wasn't true. I remembered church lessons where, to prove a
point, the teacher had said things like this. Desperately I pleaded,
"You're just saying this to see how I'll react. It's not true, right?"
"I'm
sorry," was all he said.
After
sobbing a few minutes longer, I brokenly cried, "Take me to the
hospital. I want to see Dad, Andrea, and Aimee."
Rick
responded that I'd have to stop crying first. After a few attempts,
my will to see my family overcame my sobs. Supported on one side
by Rick and on the other by Emily, I stumbled out of the Assembly
Hall and across Temple Square. "LeAnna Banana," was all I could
get out before I broke into sobs again, vaguely aware of the staring
crowd. LeAnne was "my baby"—how could she be gone? All three
siblings were so much a part of me. How could this happen?
As
we drove the five minutes to the hospital, my sobs gradually became
subdued cries. Rick assured me that everything would be all right.
"There are already miracles happening."
After
Julianne arrived, she couldn't stop crying. Everyone else had had
a few hours to mourn and then compose themselves. They kept trying
to reassure her, "Julianne, it's going to be okay. Heavenly Father
will take care of us. It's right." But Julianne couldn't feel at
peace. She sobbed and sobbed. Suddenly she knew what she had to
do. She just had to sing. Her heart was bursting inside,
and she had to let it out. She grabbed two of her sisters, and together
they searched for an empty room. There were none. In desperation
she led them into a small bathroom down the hall. Huddled there
together, they sang the hymn she had memorized just a week earlier:
"Be
still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side;
With
patience bear thy cross of grief or pain.
Leave
to thy God to order and provide;
In
every change he faithful will remain.
Be
still, my soul: Thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through
thorny ways leads to a joyful end...
Be
still, my soul: The hour is hastening on
When
we shall be forever with the Lord,
When
disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow
forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be
still, my soul: When change and tears are past,
All
safe and blessed we shall meet at last."
Peace
enveloped Julianne and soothed her aching heart. Her healing had
begun.
No
matter what we are called upon to endure, the hymns can be one of
our greatest resources. Indeed, they can unlock the windows of heaven
and invite the sunshine to come streaming in to brighten up our
lives and our homes.
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