C. David Belt's Blog, page 28

The back cover art for The Penitent is finally done!  Check it out at: http://www.unwillingchild.com/book2.html  Ben Savage does great work!

We didn’t see much of Milwaukee.  We saw a lot of the inside of the theatre where we performed and the hotel where we ate and slept, but not much of anywhere else.

When we arrived in Milwaukee, the busses delivered us (the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra at Temple Square and our “entourage”) directly to the venue.  It was a magnificent old theatre: the grand old lady, gilded and decorated in the ornate style of a bygone era, has graced the city for a century and been the chosen venue for musicians of renown and presidents of the United States.  We rehearsed at the theatre, and then were instructed to walk directly to the hotel for dinner.  After dinner, we walked directly back to the theatre.  After the concert, we picked up our luggage from the busses, and walked directly back to the hotel, checked in, and went to our rooms.  We had been given a strict injunction, like that given to Bilbo and the dwarves: “Stay on the path!”  We were told to stay together in one large group, go directly between the theatre and the hotel, and only when directed to do so.  Once we were checked into our rooms, we were not to leave the hotel until our assigned times to board the busses for Madison, WI. 

As we traversed the well-worn path between our two authorized destinations, police officers lined the streets, reminding me once again of Mirkwood in “The Hobbit”, the police standing like the great trees, sentinels along the only path through a dark and foreboding forest.  Actually, the people in Milwaukee were universally friendly, but the police requested that, for our safety, we not venture outside.  The morning of our departure from Milwaukee, I saw a mounted officer sitting atop a magnificent brown quarter horse.  It was obvious from the reaction of the local residents that the officer and his horse were anything but a normal sight.  I asked the peace-keeper, as I petted the neck of his great horse, if it were customary for mounted police to be in this area.  He said, “We always try to maintain a strong presence, but we are here today to protect your group.” 

I want to emphasize that the people we encountered in Milwaukee were, without exception, very friendly and very helpful.  And while I appreciate the concern for our safety—I really do, by the way—I have to wonder: how bad does an area of the city have to be to require a police escort for 600 people? 

Have you ever wondered what the Mormon Tabernacle Choir does while traveling on the Sabbath day while on tour?  We have the most incredible sacrament meetings, for one thing.  We also had a wonderful fireside on Sunday night, and while I cannot share the details, it was a real treat.  On other tours (i.e., not this one), we have visited Nauvoo or some other sacred site.  But at the end of the day, it is not your typical Sabbath at home; we are a small army that is travelling, so we stay in hotels, eat, and perhaps travel in buses.  In other words, we are employing other people to host, feed, and transport us, causing them to work on the Sabbath day, and it’s unavoidable.

Some meals are catered or provided by the hotel, feeding us en-masse.  At other times, that is simply not practical, so we are issued per-diem money and left to buy meals on our own.  Such was the case on Sunday.  Lunch was “per-diem”.  Our hotel, though magnificent, was not within walking distance of any non-hotel restaurants, so we had two choices: the expensive steakhouse or the small coffee shop (with sandwiches) in the hotel.  Most of us opted for the less-costly coffee shop.  My wife and I split a sandwich, a yogurt parfait, and a lemonade.  The coffee shop sold a popular brand of coffee and our lemonade came in a cup sporting the coffee logo.

As I exited the coffee shop, I spotted the member of the First Quorum of Seventy (one of the Church’s general authorities) and his wife who are accompanying us on this tour.  They were sitting at a table, enjoying the same meal as we.  I held up my cup to the Seventy and his wife and said with a big grin, “Join the Mormon Tabernacle Choir!  Get a drink from Starbucks on the Sabbath day!”

The Seventy’s wife smiled at the joke and said, “You’re such a rebel!”

It is a long-standing tradition, when the Choir goes on tour, to have a guest conductor come to the podium and lead the Choir in an encore number.  Usually, this guest conductor has no musical experience.  The whole thing is done for fun and to add some local flavor to the performance.  Our guest conductors have been local politicians, celebrities, community leaders, or non-LDS religious leaders, and they are selected by a committee from the local community.  We’ve had some memorable experiences with our guest conductors.

Yesterday’s guest conductor, however, was truly special.  Navy Lt. Commander James Gennari is a Navy nurse.  In January, 2012, Lt. Commander Gennari and another brave medic risked their lives to remove a LIVE rocket-propelled grenade from the leg of a wounded Marine.  The RPG had impaled itself in the Marine’s leg, but had not gone off.  Lt. Commander Gennari was able to remove the grenade, save the life of the Marine and the Marine’s leg.  For his act of uncommon courage without regard to his own personal life or safety, Lt. Commander Gennari was awarded the Bronze Star.

LtCm Gennari pointed out that he was there to represent all the men and women, past and present, of our armed forces, and believe me, that would have been enough to bring tears to the eyes of this old B-52 pilot, but his personal courage was truly inspiring.  Lt. Commander Gennari is a hero.  I thank my God for men and women like him.  In extraordinary and horrific circumstances, he did not hesitate to lay his life on the line for another.

This morning, the Choir assembled for sacrament meeting in the huge ballroom of our hotel.  I was privileged to pass the bread and water, the sacred emblems of the selfless and atoning sacrifice of my Savior, Jesus Christ.  One of the men officiating at the improvised sacrament table was Collin Jeffries.  Regular readers of my blog will recall that Collin is a stagehand with the Tabernacle Choir.  Unable to serve a proselyting mission for the Church due to physical limitations caused by meningitis, Collin was honorably excused from missionary service.  However, he chose to serve a local mission as a service missionary, and he was assigned to serve as a stagehand for the Choir.  This assignment came in spite of the fact that Collin walks with a pronounced limp and has no use of his right hand.  His missionary service is now completed, but Collin continues to serve as a volunteer.

I watched in awe as Collin used his good hand to press the bread against the balled and immobile fist of his right hand, tearing the bread carefully and meticulously.  Then Collin blessed the broken bread.  Tears spilled from my eyes as I helped pass the bread and water to assembled members of the Choir and Orchestra.

Collin could never serve in war.  He doesn’t have the physical capacity.  One would think that he wouldn’t be able to serve as a stagehand, but that was where he was assigned to labor, where he continues to labor, and he doesn’t let his physical limitations slow him down.  He will never receive the accolades that Lt. Commander James Gennari has so deservedly received, but like James Gennari, Collin Jeffries is a hero, if a quiet and, ironically, unsung one.

As we rode our bus through the urban areas surrounding Chicago, on our way to the concert venue at the Ravinia Festival, we had the privilege to observe many interesting store fronts.  “Beef and Pizza” (I’m not sure I want to know what that means…), a men’s fedora shop, “School of Italian”, a White Castle (I haven’t seen one of those in ages!) with a marquis declaring, “WIN A TRIP TO THE BET HIP HOP AWARDS”, a hookah shop, a Polish bookstore, “Ribs, Chicken, Gyros, Vienna Beef Sandwiches” (once again, I don’t think I want to know…), “Fifth Third Bank” (OK, that one was on the south side of Chicago, but the name struck me as funny), the tavern right next door to the day-care center, “NOW RENTING LARGE 1 BEDROOMS” (isn’t that an oxymoron)), “VENTAGE CLOTHING” (that’s how it was spelled), a bar right across the road from “Physician and Surgeon” (in case you get hit as you stagger across the street), and many others. 

But the best one of all?

The building is about the size of a small fast-food restaurant.  Nestled between gas stations boasting prices nearly a dollar higher than we are currently paying in Utah, the one-story yellow brick building sported windows all along the street, each festooned with white letters: “SURGICAL CENTER: Lap Bands, Vascular Surgery, Hip Replacements, etc.  WALK INS WELCOME”

As I communicated in my last post, transporting, moving, and herding the 600 people of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra at Temple Square and our “entourage” while on tour is a daunting task.  Perhaps, not quite as daunting, but still no mean feat is FEEDING that many people in a timely and courteous (and palatable) manner.  Most of the time, the massive meals come off without a hitch.  And typically, the food is bounteous and delectable.  (The tale is told of one sister in the Choir who returned from tour, marched angrily into the general manager’s office, tossed one of her wardrobe dresses on his desk, and declared, “It doesn’t fit anymore, and it’s YOUR FAULT!”) 

Having traveled straight from the airport to the concert venue (a hockey arena) in Columbus, OH, we were greeted with the delicious and inviting aroma of barbequed pork.  (Well, what else would expect in the mid-west?)  Right there at the arena, a sumptuous and mouth-watering feast was prepared: pulled-pork sandwiches, salad, home-style macaroni shells and cheese, potato salad, cookies, and of course all the bottled water and soda we could drink.  Actually, I’m listing that in reverse.  It was the bins of ice-cooled drinks that greeted us as we entered the buffet area.  We found orange soda, lemon-lime soda, diet and regular caffeine-free cola.  Now there is no strict prohibition against good Latter Day Saints drinking caffeinated soda.  Some drink it, and some don’t.  (I’m in the “don’t” category.)  Still, it was gratifying to find that the caterer was sensitive to our Mormon sensibilities. 

However, the first iced bin that greeted the mob of thirsty Mormon troubadours was filled to the brim, untouched (except perhaps by our wonderful bus drivers).  When I arrived, one choir member had his cellphone out.  He was taking a picture of the contents. 

With a big grin on his face, he snapped a picture of the numerous cans of iced-tea and said, “I’ll bet that’s not a big seller.”

As some of you may know, I am currently touring with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and the Orchestra at Temple Square.  When we go on tour, we require 3 airplanes, 11 buses, 2 luggage trucks, 4 semi-trucks, and 8 support vans.  Apparently, it’s a major undertaking to move 600 people and their luggage, sound equipment, risers, musical instruments, and organ.  (The 600 people include 300 choir members and 100 orchestra members.  The remainder are stage crew, support staff, and a limited number of spouses.  And yes, if your spouse comes along, you have to pay for him or her.  But I digress, as I often do.)  This tour, we are performing concerts in Columbus, OH, Indianapolis, IN, Chicago, IL, Milwaukee, WI, Madison, WI, and Minneapolis, MN. 

My wife got to come along on the last tour (two years ago).  She had wonderful experience, even if she did have to listen to the same concert night after night.  She described it as living in the temple for eight days.  I am very grateful that she was able to accompany me on this tour as well. 

Yesterday, we got up at 3:50 AM to board one of the chartered jets.  We flew to Columbus, OH for our first concert.  Needless to say, when we arrived, we were very tired, and possibly not looking our best. (I certainly wasn’t, but that’s not much of stretch.)  Now, the wonderful folks at the airport in Columbus arranged for the busses to meet the planes right on the tarmac so we could bypass the terminal.  Our luggage was transferred from the planes directly to the busses as we walked down the mobile stairs and boarded our assigned motor carriage. 

Our bus drivers are the best.  Most of them request the assignment to drive with the Choir every time we go on tour.  They are courteous and helpful and very friendly.  The driver on our assigned bus is no different. 

However, he left the radio on. 

As we wearily clambered aboard the bus, we were greeted with the melodious strains of AC-DC screeching out, “We’re on a highway to hell!” 

I hope that’s not an omen.

When I was a cadet in the AFROTC program at Brigham Young University, I once had the privilege of hearing Colonel Bernard F. Fisher, USAF-retired, give a speech. Colonel Fisher is a genuine war hero of the Vietnam War, the first living Air Force recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor. As cadets, we all knew the story, how he landed a prop-driven A-1E close-air-support aircraft, call sign Hobo-51, on a cratered runway, under heavy fire, in the A Shau Valley. Dodging shell holes and debris, he taxied his two-seat aircraft to the hiding place of downed fellow A-1 pilot, Major D. W. “Jump” Myers, loaded Myers aboard the aircraft, and managed to take off again, all the while suffering numerous hits on his aircraft.

I didn’t know it at the time, but Bernard Fisher had been awarded the Silver Star for bravery only the day before the dramatic rescue of Jump Myers.

To say that we cadets were inspired by Bernard Fisher’s courage under fire would be like saying that a hurricane is a bit breezy. We all sat in awe and listened as this humble man from Clearfield, Utah, made light of his heroism. He recounted the incident, sure enough, but then he got really quiet.

He said that he wasn’t the true hero of that day. The true hero, he said, was a Marine who fought on the ground at A Shau that day. Sadly, I cannot remember the man’s name. This Marine lost both legs when a shell hit his gunnery position, slaughtering his entire squad. He removed his belt and the belt of a fallen comrade and improvised tourniquets around the ruin of his legs. Then he manned the machine gun and provided cover fire for Colonel Fisher and other embattled Marines, allowing them to withdraw.

He died at that machine-gun post.

I wish I could remember his name, but I can’t.

But our Heavenly Father knows who he is.

I am a veteran.  I and my family have made sacrifices for the cause of liberty.  But tomorrow is not about veterans.  Many of us will visit the graves of loved ones tomorrow, and it is fitting that we should do so on any day, but tomorrow is a day to remember those who gave their lives to defend our freedom and the freedom of others. 

So while you are enjoying a day off from work (if you are fortunate enough to do so), while you are barbequing with family and friends, going to the movies, or just resting at home, take some time to thank your Heavenly Father for the sacrifice of those who purchased your freedom with their blood. 

Perhaps you have strong feelings about the Vietnam War or the current war against the forces of evil who want to destroy our freedoms and force us all to live as they according to their twisted belief system.  You may or may not agree with how the war is being fought.  You may think it is past time for our troops to come home.  You may believe that we should not be fighting this war at all, that we should never have fought it. 

Tomorrow, please remember and thank God for those who willingly paid the price so that you are free to express such an opinion without fear of punishment, prison, or loss of life. 

Non nobis, domine, sed nomine tuo da gloriam.

That is the text of one of my favorite songs that we sing in The Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  It translates roughly to “Not for our glory, Lord, but to Thy name be all the glory.”  (For all you Latin purists: I DO know the exact translation, but what I have rendered is close enough.)  The song is on our “Glory!  Songs of Joy and Rejoicing” CD.  It expresses precisely how I feel about singing in the Choir.  Before every broadcast and every concert, I say a silent prayer, “Not for my glory, not for our glory, but for Thy glory.”

Sometimes it takes a lot of work to get 360 voices to start singing precisely together.  Once, when we were working on a particularly tricky rhythm for an especially difficult entrance, Brother Wilberg said, “Now as you hear the orchestra play that introduction, what are you thinking?”  The proper answer was:  “Inner rhythm!” or “One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and.”  (I.e., he wanted us to concentrate on the rhythm so we could get the entrance right.)  But to be honest, what I was thinking is what I often think: “Don’t screw up!  Don’t screw up!”

On those occasions where a cameraman parks his high-definition camera five inches from my face, that particular mantra goes frantically through my mind.  I watch the broadcast each week when I get home, not because I love seeing my unique face on TV, but because I’m terrified that I might have been caught picking my nose or something.  (Sidebar, your honor?  I’ve never actually picked my nose during a broadcast, but you get the idea: I don’t want to be caught with bubbles of saliva on my lips or a surprise zit on the side of my nose.)  It’s not about me; I just don’t want to do anything that might detract from the miracle that is wrought with each broadcast or concert.

False modesty aside, I know that, like all members of the Choir, I have a decent singing voice.  I also know that each and every one of us in the Choir has to work very hard to make our voices blend, to make our vowels match, to get every “s” and every “t” to start and end precisely together, to suppress our natural vibrato.  (Sidebar?  I’ve listened to “We Are the World”.  All those singers with different styles and approaches.  Can you imagine 360 voices doing that?  Together?  It makes me shudder to think of it.)  But all that effort is worth it, because, with divine help, together we can create something truly beautiful.

And in order to create that beauty, we have to surrender our wills and our egos.  Some of the people with whom I serve in the Choir are amazing professional musicians in their own right.  Some have solo recording careers.  Some are professional choir conductors.  (Me?  I’m just a software engineer and novelist.  I’m not even in their league.)  But once we climb the steps into the choir loft of the Tabernacle or the Conference Center or the arena or concert hall, none of that matters.  We have to move and act as one.  There are no stars, no divas, no maestros.  We have to follow Mack Wilberg or Ryan Murphy with precision and discipline.  We don’t complain and we NEVER offer suggestions.  (Imagine if 360 people made suggestions.  It would be like… 360 voices singing in their own individual style.  Visions of 360 Mormons singing “We Are the World”, each screeching, crooning, groaning his or her own way.  Gross.)

And when we surrender our own individual wills and egos for the time that we are in the choir loft, miracles happen.

When we’re not in the loft?  We can sing our hearts out using our own individual styles.  There is a time and a place for that.  And God loves “the song of the heart”.

Each and every member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir is a volunteer.  We are extremely blessed to be members.  We worked hard to be here and it takes hard work to stay, and we know we didn’t get here without the Lord’s help.

Today after the broadcast, we attended the retirement ceremony for twenty-eight members of the Choir and one founding member of the Orchestra at Temple Square.  These twenty-nine had reached the mandatory retirement age or length of service (age sixty or twenty years of service, whichever comes first).  I know that there was not a one of them that wanted it to end.  When we sang, “God be with you till we meet again,” one final time, there was not a dry eye in the place.

My time will come all too soon.  I don’t know how I’ll be able to face it.

Mack Wilberg is a genius.  But more important, he is inspired.  I have seen firsthand evidence of this on a number of occasions.  I don’t know if he’s the greatest choir director who has ever lived or not (although I suspect he very well might be), but it doesn’t matter: he is the director of the Choir right now.  He was called and appointed to that position by President Thomas S. Monson.  When I’m in that loft, I will follow Brother Wilberg’s direction to the best of my ability.

So, hypothetically, what happens if there is something that Brother Wilberg does musically that I’m not sure I agree with?  What if I want the Choir to perform a song I wrote or do a rap and Mack Wilberg refuses to go along with it?  What could I do?  Complain?  Write anonymous letters or emails? Protest?  Sign petitions?  Go to the news media or post my “reasonable suggestions” on Facebook?  I know!  Maybe I could write an expose on the Mormon Tabernacle Choir!  Maybe if I bring enough social or political pressure to bear, I can force the prophet to get rid of Brother Wilberg!  Then maybe I could force the prophet to make the changes I want.  I could reform the whole organization from within!  Remake the Mormon Tabernacle Choir to be what I want it to be!

On the other hand, hypothetically, if I don’t think the Tabernacle Choir is an organization directed by divine inspiration, but simply a man-made, man-conceived, and man-directed institution (however venerated it might be), why in the world would I want to change it?  Why not just leave if I thought it was just the work of man?  I could found my own choir or join one that better suits my taste.

But of course, I don’t want to do ANY of those things.  I love being in the Choir.  (REALLY!  I’M JUST TRYING TO ILLUSTRATE A POINT!  DON’T KICK ME OUT OF THE CHOIR PLEASE!)  I have my own voice and my own style of singing and I am free to sing in my own way outside of that choir loft, but when I’m in the loft, I do my best to follow the direction I’m given.  I thank my Heavenly Father for this great blessing in my life.

So why in the world would anybody be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints if they thought it was not led by a prophet of God?  If they thought they could bring pressure to bear that might actually convince the prophet to make fundamental “common-sense” (at least common sense in their own eyes) changes, wouldn’t that mean that he WASN’T a prophet?  Wouldn’t that mean it was simply a man-made, man-conceived, and man-directed institution?  If so, why would you care to “reform” it?  Being a Latter Day Saint is HARD.  If it’s not divinely inspired and directed, why put yourself through that?

Why would Abraham take Isaac to Mount Moriah and place him on the altar?  Abraham didn’t know it was a test.  He didn’t understand why the Lord asked him to sacrifice Isaac.  He simply KNEW that the Lord had commanded it.  So he placed his trust in the One who created heaven and earth.  Abraham passed the test and was blessed without measure.

I testify that Lord Jesus Christ directs this Church.  I testify that Thomas S. Monson is the prophet of the living God.  I will follow his counsel.  If the Lord wants to make a change, He will make it.  I will trust in the Lord.  I will do this because the Holy Ghost has born witness to me of the truth of these things.

Because, you see, it isn’t about me.  It isn’t about advancing my ideas or “reforming” the Church in my own image.  I’m not smarter than God.  I trust that He will make all things clear to me, if not in this life, then in the life to come.

Lucifer thought he had a better plan.  It made sense to him.  It made sense to a THIRD of the children of God.  They tried to reform the plan according to their own desires.  And there was war in heaven.  And they lost their divine inheritance.

So I say, “Thy will be done,” and not mine.  I say, “Non nobis, domine, sed nomine tuo da gloriam.”

Non nobis, domine, sed nomine tuo da gloriam. 

That is the text of one of my favorite songs that we sing in The Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  It translates roughly to “Not for our glory, Lord, but to Thy name be all the glory.”  (For all you Latin purists: I DO know the exact translation, but what I have rendered is close enough.)  The song is on our “Glory!  Songs of Joy and Rejoicing” CD.  It expresses precisely how I feel about singing in the Choir.  Before every broadcast and every concert, I say a silent prayer, “Not for my glory, not for our glory, but for Thy glory.” 

Sometimes it takes a lot of work to get 360 voices to start singing precisely together.  Once, when we were working on a particularly tricky rhythm for an especially difficult entrance, Brother Wilberg said, “Now as you hear the orchestra play that introduction, what are you thinking?”  The proper answer was:  “Inner rhythm!” or “One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and.”  (I.e., he wanted us to concentrate on the rhythm so we could get the entrance right.)  But to be honest, what I was thinking is what I often think: “Don’t screw up!  Don’t screw up!” 

On those occasions where a cameraman parks his high-definition camera five inches from my face, that particular mantra goes frantically through my mind.  I watch the broadcast each week when I get home, not because I love seeing my unique face on TV, but because I’m terrified that I might have been caught picking my nose or something.  (Sidebar, your honor?  I’ve never actually picked my nose during a broadcast, but you get the idea: I don’t want to be caught with bubbles of saliva on my lips or a surprise zit on the side of my nose.)  It’s not about me; I just don’t want to do anything that might detract from the miracle that is wrought with each broadcast or concert. 

False modesty aside, I know that, like all members of the Choir, I have a decent singing voice.  I also know that each and every one of us in the Choir has to work very hard to make our voices blend, to make our vowels match, to get every “s” and every “t” to start and end precisely together, to suppress our natural vibrato.  (Sidebar?  I’ve listened to “We Are the World”.  All those singers with different styles and approaches.  Can you imagine 360 voices doing that?  Together?  It makes me shudder to think of it.)  But all that effort is worth it, because, with divine help, together we can create something truly beautiful. 

And in order to create that beauty, we have to surrender our wills and our egos.  Some of the people with whom I serve in the Choir are amazing professional musicians in their own right.  Some have solo recording careers.  Some are professional choir conductors.  (Me?  I’m just a software engineer and novelist.  I’m not even in their league.)  But once we climb the steps into the choir loft of the Tabernacle or the Conference Center or the arena or concert hall, none of that matters.  We have to move and act as one.  There are no stars, no divas, no maestros.  We have to follow Mack Wilberg or Ryan Murphy with precision and discipline.  We don’t complain and we NEVER offer suggestions.  (Imagine if 360 people made suggestions.  It would be like… 360 voices singing in their own individual style.  Visions of 360 Mormons singing “We Are the World”, each screeching, crooning, groaning his or her own way.  Gross.)

And when we surrender our own individual wills and egos for the time that we are in the choir loft, miracles happen. 

When we’re not in the loft?  We can sing our hearts out using our own individual styles.  There is a time and a place for that.  And God loves “the song of the heart”. 

Each and every member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir is a volunteer.  We are extremely blessed to be members.  We worked hard to be here and it takes hard work to stay, and we know we didn’t here without the Lord’s help.

Today after the broadcast, we attended the retirement ceremony for twenty-eight members of the Choir and one founding member of the Orchestra at Temple Square.  These twenty-nine had reached the mandatory retirement age or length of service (age sixty or twenty years of service, whichever comes first).  I know that there was not a one of them that wanted it to end.  When we sang, “God be with you till we meet again,” one final time, there was not a dry eye in the place. 

My time will come all too soon.  I don’t know how I’ll be able to face it. 

Mack Wilberg is a genius.  But more important, he is inspired.  I have seen firsthand evidence of this on a number of occasions.  I don’t know if he’s the greatest choir director who has ever lived or not (although I suspect he very well might be), but it doesn’t matter: he is the director of the Choir right now.  He was called and appointed to that position by President Thomas S. Monson.  When I’m in that loft, I will follow Brother Wilberg’s direction to the best of my ability. 

So, hypothetically, what happens if there is something that Brother Wilberg does musically that I’m not sure I agree with?  What if I want the Choir to perform a song I wrote or do a rap and Mack Wilberg refuses to go along with it?  What could I do?  Complain?  Write anonymous letters or emails? Protest?  Sign petitions?  Go to the news media or post my “reasonable suggestions” on Facebook?  I know!  Maybe I could write an expose on the Mormon Tabernacle Choir!  Maybe if I bring enough social or political pressure to bear, I can force the prophet to get rid of Brother Wilberg!  Then maybe I could force the prophet to make the changes I want.  I could reform the whole organization from within!  Remake the Mormon Tabernacle Choir to be what I want it to be! 

On the other hand, hypothetically, if I don’t think the Tabernacle Choir is an organization directed by divine inspiration, but simply a man-made, man-conceived, and man-directed institution (however venerated it might be), why in the world would I want to change it?  Why not just leave if I thought it was just the work of man?  I could found my own choir or join one that better suits my taste. 

But of course, I don’t want to do ANY of those things.  I love being in the Choir.  (REALLY!  I’M JUST TRYING TO ILLUSTRATE A POINT!  DON’T KICK ME OUT OF THE CHOIR PLEASE!)  I have my own voice and my own style of singing and I am free to sing in my own way outside of that choir loft, but when I’m in the loft, I do my best to follow the direction I’m given.  I thank my Heavenly Father for this great blessing in my life. 

So why in the world would anybody be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints if they thought it was not led by a prophet of God?  If they thought they could bring pressure to bear that might actually convince the prophet to make fundamental “common-sense” (at least common sense in their own eyes) changes, wouldn’t that mean that he WASN’T a prophet?  Wouldn’t that mean it was simply a man-made, man-conceived, and man-directed institution?  If so, why would you care to “reform” it?  Being a Latter Day Saint is HARD.  If it’s not divinely inspired and directed, why put yourself through that? 

Why would Abraham take Isaac to Mount Moriah and place him on the altar?  Abraham didn’t know it was a test.  He didn’t understand why the Lord asked him to sacrifice Isaac.  He simply KNEW that the Lord had commanded it.  So he placed his trust in the One who created heaven and earth.  Abraham passed the test and was blessed without measure. 

I testify that Lord Jesus Christ directs this Church.  I testify that Thomas S. Monson is the prophet of the living God.  I will follow his counsel.  If the Lord wants to make a change, He will make it.  I will trust in the Lord.  I will do this because the Holy Ghost has born witness to me of the truth of these things. 

Because, you see, it isn’t about me.  It isn’t about advancing my ideas or “reforming” the Church in my own image.  I’m not smarter than God.  I trust that He will make all things clear to me, if not in this life, then in the life to come. 

Lucifer thought he had a better plan.  It made sense to him.  It made sense to a THIRD of the children of God.  They tried to reform the plan according to their own desires.  And there was war in heaven.  And they lost their divine inheritance. 

So I say, “Thy will be done,” and not mine.  I say, “Non nobis, domine, sed nomine tuo da gloriam.”