We spent a crazy week finishing up the loose ends of preparing to leave our home for two years; packing our bags, and putting together an open house for family and friends in the area. Sunday we spoke in our church meeting to our home congregation. Our bishop asked Virginia to speak about her conversion. She has been a member all her life, while I was a convert at 16-years of age. But the truth is we all must find Christ in our lives, even those raised since early childhood. I was asked to speak about our responsibility to share the gospel with others after we are converted. I decided to share my talk as this weeks blog post. What follows is pretty close to the exact text from my talk. I’ve added a few pictures for interest. Our next post will come from Hawaii.

Michael’s Farewell Address

“And when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren” (Luke 22:31–32).

Feed my sheep, feed my sheep, feed my sheep (John 21:15-17)

Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. (Matthew 5:15)

These scriptures teach a responsibility to share our light, our testimony, and our blessings with others. In fact, there is this mandate in which “he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.” (Mark 16:15)

As a young father, I served as Blazer Scout Leader. I pondered my responsibility and prayed to know how to best meet the Blazer’s needs. In answer to my prayers, I received a dream. I was shown what it would be like to give small particles of light to the sun. I held on my arm a basket that shown brightly with these particles of light. With my thumb and forefinger, I would pick up a piece of light and place it upon the surface of the sun - the sun burned brighter with each particle I put in place. I then was shown the same is so when a truth is taught to a child. A small portion of light is bestowed. I am no dimmer than before by giving away this light because the light wasn’t mine to begin with, but the glory of God is that much brighter. Nothing is lost, only light is gained. Whenever there is truth, there is light, whenever there is light there is that much less darkness. In whatever church calling we hold we have opportunity to impart light. And then the dream ended (Journal Dec. 30, 2001).

I came to work at BYU in 1988 as a stage lighting designer. I was trained to use light to create drama and enhance storytelling in plays, dance, opera, and special events. Over the years I had countless opportunities to affect the emotions of theatre patrons. I witnessed the power arts had in touching an individual spiritually. I practiced it regularly as my talents grew and expanded. Over my 40 plus years in the theatre I learned to draw upon the Spirit to influence my decision making and design choices. The Spirit became my greatest collaborator. By the end of that career, I was so dependent on the Spirit guiding my choices that I felt more like the tool in the master’s hand than the craftsman.

 I toured Morocco with one of our performing groups. In Fes, an ancient walled city, we set up our show at an old portal that dated to 1306. Our backdrop was a magnificent arch of stone and mosaic. The lighting was archaic, and the sound echoed in that open space, but the setting was delightful. When it was over, we could see joy in everyone’s faces. I spoke with our sponsor who was overflowing with happiness. He grabbed me by my shoulders, hung on to me and attempted to express his feelings. He pierced my soul with his dark round eyes and asked, “Do you realize what you have done”? My mind raced back through the day of the many things I could have done wrong. Did I break a law, cause an offense, crossed a cultural barrier? I couldn’t imagine what I did. In his broken English and with tears rolling down his cheeks, he told me that we had opened a window for the people of Fes, and they had look out. It was an odd expression to process at first, but eventually I understood what I came to understand countless times after one of our performances. It happened in Brazil, Argentina, and Paraguay, all across Europe and the Soviet Union, in the Islands of the Pacific, in China, and throughout America. We had caused a situation in which the Spirit of our Savior Jesus Christ could be felt. Audiences rarely articulated clearly what happened. They felt joyful, they were joyful. I knew it wasn’t the dancing or singing of our students alone that caused these expressions time after time, although our students were talented. This joy transcended an enthusiasm for a stage performance. If it was merely the raw talent of the student, it would have manifest itself in an ovation at the culmination of the performance and the patrons would know exactly what they were responding to. But too often, our patrons were left speechless, unable to articulate their source of joy. I knew it was the power of the Spirit that brought this joy into their hearts and into their lives. They wouldn’t let go of us. They clung to us, afraid that if they let go, the joy would dissipate. Our role was to open a door, or in the case of Morocco, a window and allow the Spirit to enter and be present. Missionaries and local members then had opportunity to step in after we were gone to answer questions and further teach.

The culminating project of my career at BYU was a production of BYU Spectacular that we toured to China. I was the producer of this show. It was the biggest “thing” I have ever done, the most “money” I have ever spent, involving the most “people” I’ve ever worked with, and by far the most complicated logistics one can imagine. It simply eclipsed everything I had done to that point. We were careful not to say or do anything political or controversial. We couldn’t refer to religion in any overt manner. We centered the production on the principle of love and a connection to family. In our show a young man poses the question, “What is my purpose in life, and, in a world filled with distractions and noise, how can I find my way?” Through our production of songs, dance, and basketball acrobatics, this young man finds guidance and influence from the voices of his ancestors who walked before him. We took inspiration from words of the Native American Poet, Linda Hogan:

Walking, You are listening to a deeper way…

…All your ancestors are behind you…

…Be still, they say, watch and listen…

…You are the result of the love of thousands.

How remarkable a statement, to realize that each one of us is the result of the love of thousands. “Their” eyes are upon us, the fulfillment of their dreams rest upon our shoulders, and if we listen, we can hear them whisper in our ear. We are not entirely distant from them, and what happens to us in our mortal journey matters to them. These thoughts and ideas resonated with the Chinese people in a profound way. After months of laborious translation involving native speakers from the university, from the church, and from our sponsors in China, our concepts held up under government scrutiny, with civic leaders, religious supporters, and the citizens of Beijing, Sian, Shanghai, and our broadcast audience to the nation. The message came through. After the show, we heard comments of, “How did you know to communicate such profound ideas in our language, How are you able to touch us so deeply?”

We are all voyagers through time and space. The people we spend our time with on this trek are invaluable to our passage. We grow, we give, we touch the lives of everyone whose path we cross. Life is a tapestry, and we are the threads. A single thread may seem inconsequential, plain, and ordinary. If we concentrate on the thread, we miss the overall pattern. As one thread weaves in and out and around others, somehow a beautiful pattern emerges.

What will we do on our mission to the Polynesian Cultural Center? In many ways, I am returning to my old work in the theatre. I do not know what my day-to-day activities will involve. I’m taking my “mission statement” from Isaiah 35:3 Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees. Each day I’ll seek the weak hands and feeble knees and strengthen those who need help and guidance.

I’ll close with this thought: When my children were young, we visited the Trilobite fossil beds in western Utah.We found the quarry at the end of a long dirt road in the West Desert. The Trilobites were dispersed throughout the area in varying sizes.  I pondered, if such a simple animal as a Trilobite can leave an impression on this earth for 550 million years and it barely had a brain, what kind of impression can a man leave behind? If we apply ourselves to President Nelson’s charge to gather Israel on both sides of the vail, and serve faithfully and humbly, we will leave an impression that will last through the eternities.