Becoming Like My Scripture Hero - Character Planning Sheet Template (Page 23 of 39) in pdf

Tongues of Angels

A Builder or a Wrecker?

Like all gifts ―which cometh from above,‖ words are ―sacred, and must be

spoken with care, and by constraint of the Spirit.‖

I passed one day through a lonely town

It is with this realization of the power and sanctity of words that I wish to caution us, if caution

And saw some man tearing a building down

is needed, regarding how we speak to each other and how we speak of ourselves. …

With a ―heave‖ and a ―ho‖ and a husky yell

….Continuing the imagery of the bridle, he writes: ―Behold, we put bits in the horses’ mouths,

They swung a beam and a side wall fell

that they may obey us; and we turn about their whole body.

―Behold also … ships, which though they be … great, and are driven of fierce winds, yet are

I asked the foreman ―are these men skilled?

they turned about with a very small helm.‖

They type you’d hire if you had to build?‖

Then James makes his point: ―The tongue is [also] a little member. … [But] behold, how great

―Oh no‖ he chuckled, ―Oh no‖ indeed,

a [forest (Greek)] a little fire [can burn].

The common laborer is all I need

―… So is the tongue [a fire] among our members, … it defileth the whole body, … it is set on

Why I can destroy in a day or two

fire of hell.

What builders have taken weeks to do.‖

―For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of things in the sea, … hath been

tamed of mankind:

I thought to myself as I walked away

―But the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison.

Which of these roles have I tried to play?

―Therewith bless we God, even the Father; and therewith curse we men, which are made after

Am I a builder, who works with care,

the similitude of God.

Making his tools a ruler and a square

―Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not so

Shaping my peers to a well made plan,

to be.‖4

Helping them be the best they can

Well,

that

is pretty straightforward! Obviously James doesn’t mean our tongues are

always

everything

iniquitous, nor that

we say is ―full of deadly poison.‖ But he clearly means that at least

Or am I a wrecker who walks around

some things we say can be destructive, even venomous—and that is a chilling indictment for a Latter-

Content with the labor of tearing down?

day Saint! The voice that bears profound testimony, utters fervent prayer, and sings the hymns of Zion

can be

the same voice that berates and criticizes, embarrasses and demeans, inflicts pain and destroys

the spirit of oneself and of others in the process. ―Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and

cursing,‖ James grieves. ―My brethren [and sisters], these things ought not so to be.‖

Is this something we could all work on just a little? Is this an area in which we could each try to be a little more like a ―perfect‖ man or woman? …

So, brothers and sisters, in this long eternal quest to be more like our Savior, may we try to be ―perfect‖ men and women in at least this one way now—

by offending not

in word, or more positively put, by speaking with a new tongue, the tongue of angels.

Jeffrey R. Holland, ―The Tongue of Angels,‖ Ensign, May 2007, 16–18

“I had the opportunity to serve the young women of my ward in Redmond, Washington several years ago. We decided to have a talent

share for mutual one evening. As we prepared for this even we encouraged each young man and young woman in the ward to participate.

We held it in the cultural hall. We had a spotlight on the stage to illuminate those that were performing. Around the cultural hall were the

displays of those that were artistic and creative. We had youth that sang, played the piano, displayed paintings, shared crafts they had

made, read poetry, and told jokes – and yes, that is a talent. It was turning out to be a very successful night. In the audience were the

youth, the young men and young women leaders, and the bishopric. And on the back row, in the corner, leaning on the back on their

chairs, were the priest age boys of our ward. 6 or 7 young men who were less that thrilled about being at a talent share activity. As we

neared the end of our evening – someone tapped me on the shoulder. „Sister Bradshaw, I decided to do something – is it ok?‟ I turned

around to see Christine, a brand new beehive. „Of course Christine, we would love to hear from you.‟ I responded, assuming that she

would be singing. She came from a family of 11 children, who loved to sing. I passed the word to our MC that our final performer would

be Christine. Now, I would like you to picture in your minds. Christine. 4 foot, 10 inches tall, 70 pounds soaking wet – long red hair. As

she approached the stage – the lights in the cultural hall were dimmed, I sensed groans from the back row priests who had to sit through

one more number. Christine surprised us all when she walked out onto the stage with a music stand in one hand and a trumpet in the

other. I didn‟t know Christine played the trumpet. And as it turned out, she had only been taking lessons for a few weeks. As she raised

the trumpet to her lips – there was silence in the cultural hall. As she blew into the instrument – there was still silence. She tried again –

silence. She tried again –still silence. She tried once more and this time something close to a few notes came out. Her face began to match

her red hair. I wanted to do something but wasn‟t quite sure what it was I should do. I glanced back into the dark at that row of boys and

hoped that they caught my glare – I didn‟t want anyone to laugh or tease or cause Christine more discomfort than she was already having.

As she continued to try to blow air into that trumpet and make something come out – she looked into the dark cultural hall where the

audience was seated. And then one of those boys – sitting in the dark corner leaning back on his chair called out „Hey Christine –come on –

you can do it!‟ I knew by the look on Christine‟s face that she recognized the voice of her 16 year old brother David. „Come on – I know you

can do it‟ he repeated. David then got out of his seat and walked right up to the stage so she could see his face. Christine then put the

trumpet up to her lips and played the most beautiful trumpet solo any of us had ever heard.” (Barbara Bradshaw, Centering in the Peace of

Private Prayer: He knows my Heart, BYU Women‟s Conference, 20060

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