I would follow Thee
I wasn't in a very good mood during sacrament meeting yesterday. Our bench was crowded and S-Boogie wasn't cooperating much with the "sit still and keep your clothes on" rule. Little Dude had been up for most of the night screaming about his ear and we'd all woken up late. Then testimonies started, and yesterday honestly wasn't much of an uplifting meeting. We had the guy who had a talk he really wanted to give to the youth, the random non-member (I think) relating her really long life story in broken English, and the bitter ranter who gets up frequently to engage in his own form of group therapy from the pulpit. We started to go overtime and my butt started to hurt from the bench. Then we finally got to the closing song:
Savior, may I learn to love thee,
Walk the path that thou hast shown,
Pause to help and lift another,
Finding strength beyond my own.
Who am I to judge another
When I walk imperfectly?
In the quiet heart is hidden
Sorrow that the eye can’t see.
I would be my brother’s keeper
I would learn the healer’s art
To the wounded and the weary
I would show a gentle heart
Savior, may I love my brother
As I know thou lovest me
Find in thee my strength, my beacon
For thy servant I would be
Lord, I would follow Thee
I love this hymn; I often repeat the second verse to myself to remind me that most of us carry sorrow in our "quiet hearts" and that I should be softer with my judgement of other people. I'm not very good at that. In Sunday School we talked about the story of Christ and the Samaritan woman at the well. Someone pointed out that her language to Christ was rather challenging, perhaps even sarcastic. She did not treat him with reverence or respect. But his response was gentle, kind, and humble. I realize that I could have used my time in sacrament meeting to perhaps try and understand those on the pulpit. To really listen to them and figure out what needs lie below the surface of their words. I could turn that opportunity into a chance to meditate and pray in a search for compassion. I don't often remember my choices at these times. It's usually easier to simply judge, label, and perhaps even whisper some sort of remark to Master Fob sitting next to me. But perhaps next time I will remember. Because I would like to follow the Savior, even if I lose my focus so often.
Savior, may I learn to love thee,
Walk the path that thou hast shown,
Pause to help and lift another,
Finding strength beyond my own.
Who am I to judge another
When I walk imperfectly?
In the quiet heart is hidden
Sorrow that the eye can’t see.
I would be my brother’s keeper
I would learn the healer’s art
To the wounded and the weary
I would show a gentle heart
Savior, may I love my brother
As I know thou lovest me
Find in thee my strength, my beacon
For thy servant I would be
Lord, I would follow Thee
I love this hymn; I often repeat the second verse to myself to remind me that most of us carry sorrow in our "quiet hearts" and that I should be softer with my judgement of other people. I'm not very good at that. In Sunday School we talked about the story of Christ and the Samaritan woman at the well. Someone pointed out that her language to Christ was rather challenging, perhaps even sarcastic. She did not treat him with reverence or respect. But his response was gentle, kind, and humble. I realize that I could have used my time in sacrament meeting to perhaps try and understand those on the pulpit. To really listen to them and figure out what needs lie below the surface of their words. I could turn that opportunity into a chance to meditate and pray in a search for compassion. I don't often remember my choices at these times. It's usually easier to simply judge, label, and perhaps even whisper some sort of remark to Master Fob sitting next to me. But perhaps next time I will remember. Because I would like to follow the Savior, even if I lose my focus so often.
Comments
I used to get pretty impatient with "testimony" meeting since it seemed more like an AA meeting, but somewhere along the road I realized that people's testimony's weren't really for the congregation, they were for God and themselves. Whether we "got" it or not wasn't important, but it was important just to sit, smile, and thank the crazy old lady for getting up and weeping about her dying lawn for 25 minutes of the meeting. Hopefully they are just as tolerant of me when I get up and blather incoherently for 5 minutes.