DEVOTIONAL

One of the many things I love about Easter Pageant is the devotionals. We have a devotional every evening before a performance. It gives the directors a time to give notes & encouragement. Someone from the Pageant Presidency or the Missionary Dept. shares their testimony as well. My favorite part, however, is that every night they have a special musical number. The other night we were priviledged enough to hear from the Roberts sisters. They were in the Pageant with us when I was a kid. Their mom was the original voice for "Mary's Lullaby". They were truly wonderful.

We also have devotional in our family groups backstage. Last night was my turn & I condensed & paraphrased this talk by Elder Boyd K. Packer. I wanted to put it on here because I want to remember this talk. ENJOY!!

FEED MY SHEEP

Imagine that our bishop has appointed you and me to plan a picnic for all of the ward members. It is to be the finest social in the history of the ward, and we are to spare no expense.
We reserve a beautiful picnic ground in the country. We are to have it all to ourselves; no outsiders will interfere with us.

The arrangements go very well, and when the day comes, the weather is perfect. All is beautifully ready. The tables are in one long row. We even have tablecloths and china. You have never seen such a feast. The Relief Society and Young Women have outdone themselves. The tables are laden with every kind of delicious food: grapes, cantaloupes, watermelon, corn on the cob, fried chicken, hamburgers, cakes, pies—you get the picture?

We are seated, and the bishop calls upon the patriarch to bless the food. Every hungry youngster secretly hopes it will be a short prayer.

Then, just at that moment there is an interruption. A noisy old car jerks into the picnic grounds and sputters to a stop close to us. We are upset. Didn’t they see the “reserved” signs?
A worried-looking man lifts the hood; a spout of steam comes out. One of our brethren, a mechanic, says, “That car isn’t going anywhere until it is fixed.”

Several children spill from the car. They are ragged, dirty, and noisy. And then an anxious mother, leaving the car, takes a box to that extra table nearby. It is mealtime. Their children are hungry. She puts a few leftovers on the table. Then she nervously moves them about, trying to make it look like a meal for her brood. But there is not enough.

We wait impatiently for them to quiet down so we can have the blessing and enjoy our feast.
Then one of their little girls spies our table. She pulls her runny-nosed little brother over to us and pushes her head between you and me. We cringe aside, because they are very dirty. Then the little girl says, “Ummm, look at that. Ummm, ummm, I wonder what that tastes like.”
Everyone is waiting. Why did they arrive just at that moment? Such an inconvenient time. Why must we interrupt what we are doing to bother with outsiders? Why couldn’t they have stopped somewhere else? They are not clean! They are not like us. They just don’t fit in.

Three choices

Since the bishop has put us in charge, he expects us to handle these intruders. What should we do? Of course, this is only a parable. If it really happened, my young friends, what would you do?
I will give you three choices.

First, you could insist the intruders keep their children quiet while we have the blessing. Thereafter we ignore them. After all, we reserved the place.

I doubt that you would do that. Could you choke down a feast before hungry children? Surely we are better than that! That is not the answer.

The next choice. There is that extra table. And we do have too much of some things. We could take a little of this and a little of that and lure the little children back to their own table. Then we could enjoy our feast without interruption. After all, we earned what we have. Did we not obtain it by [our own] industry, as the Book of Mormon says? (see Alma 4:6).

I hope you would not do that. There is a better answer. You already know what it is.

We should go to them and invite them to come and join us. You could slide that way, and I could slide this way, and the little girl could sit between us. They could all fit in somewhere to share our feast. Afterward, we will fix their car and provide something for their journey.

Could there be more pure enjoyment than seeing how much we could get those hungry children to eat? Could there be more satisfaction than to interrupt our festivities to help our mechanic fix their car?

Is that what you would do? Surely it is what you should do. But forgive me if I have a little doubt; let me explain.

Called to be missionaries

We, as members of the Church, have the fulness of the gospel. Every conceivable manner of spiritual nourishment is ours. Every part of the spiritual menu is included. It provides an unending supply of spiritual strength. Like the widow’s cruse of oil, it is replenished as we use it and shall never fail (see 1 Kgs. 17:8–16).

And yet, there are people across the world and about us—our neighbors, our friends, some in our own families—who, spiritually speaking, are undernourished. Some of them are starving to death!

If we keep all this to ourselves, it is not unlike feasting before those who are hungry.
We are to go to them and invite them to join us. We are to be missionaries.

It does not matter if it interrupts your schooling or delays your career or your marriage—or basketball. Unless you have a serious health problem, every Latter-day Saint young man should answer the call to serve a mission. Even mistakes and transgressions must not stand in the way. You should make yourself worthy to receive a call.

The early Apostles at first did not know the gospel was for everyone, for the Gentiles. Then Peter had a vision. He saw a vessel full of all kinds of creatures and was commanded to kill and to eat. But he refused, saying they were common and unclean. Then the voice said, “What God hath cleansed, that call not thou common” (Acts 10:15). That vision, and the experience they had immediately following, convinced them of their duty; thus began the great missionary work of all Christianity.

Almost any returned missionary will have a question: “If they are starving spiritually, why do they not accept what we have? Why do they slam the door on us and turn us away?”
One of my sons was serving in Australia and was thrown off a porch by a man who rejected his message.

My son is big enough and strong enough that he had to be somewhat agreeable to what was happening or the man never could have done it.

Be patient if some will not eat when first invited. Remember, all who are spiritually hungry will not accept the gospel. Do you remember how reluctant you are to try any new food? Only after your mother urges you will you take a little, tiny portion on the tip of a spoon to taste it to see if you like it first.

Undernourished children must be carefully fed; so it is with the spiritually underfed. Some are so weakened by mischief and sin that to begin with they reject the rich food we offer. They must be fed carefully and gently.

Some are so near spiritual death that they must be spoon-fed on the broth of fellowship, or nourished carefully on activities and programs. As the scriptures say, they must have milk before meat (see 1 Cor. 3:2; D&C 19:22). But we must take care lest the only nourishment they receive thereafter is that broth.

But feed them we must. We are commanded to preach the gospel to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people. That message, my young friends, appears more than 80 times in the scriptures.