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.
2002Meridian Magazine. All Rights Reserved.
