I was a dancer in
college. When we were learning a new dance, the choreographer or teacher would
start by teaching us the steps, counting out the rhythm. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. She or he would
demonstrate, and we would follow, stumbling over our feet, trying to get the
sequence straight. First we would just “mark” the sequence, just move through
the steps at half effort, not really jumping or gliding. Once we got the
sequence in our mind (or in our feet, really), we would start doing the steps
“full out,” jumping, twirling, focusing on the technique required of each step.
Jete, tendu, pas de chat, battement.
But when we quit counting and added the music-- that is when
we started to dance. In the music we could hear how the steps came together in
phrases, the joy or the longing or the sweetness of the dance. As we continued
to dance, the individual steps ceased to matter so much—what mattered was embodying
the spirit of the music. We would still be corrected, of course, when we didn’t
master the steps as the director wanted, and sometimes we needed to take a
phrase and work it through, counting out the rhythm, making sure we were
unified and on the beat and kicking to the same level.
But then, finally, the performance. I would stand in the
wings of the stage, just behind one of the big black side curtains, listening
to the music, waiting for my cue. At that moment, I wasn’t thinking of the
individual steps. I would think of the music, the message of the music and the
dance, and that now I could share that message with others. I would lift my
chest and spread my arms and dance out to share the love I felt in the music.
This all came back to me as I read again Elder Wilford W.
Andersen’s talk, “The Music of the Gospel” . He
explains, “The dance steps of the gospel are the things we do; the music of the
gospel is the joyful spiritual feeling that comes from the Holy Ghost.”
Just like learning
the ballet, first we may need to do the steps without the music. We may come to
church, do our visiting teaching, even read scriptures because we know we
should or because we feel compelled by others. But then the music of the spirit
will be heard. Maybe in a Sunday School class, or as you teach the Sunbeams, or
when you take a casserole to a new mom, or as you take the Sacrament or
especially as you pray or study the scriptures, in that moment what you are doing will make
sense. You will see it as part of a larger, more meaningful whole.
And
eventually, as you continue to pray and study and serve, you will come to see
that it is all part of one joyous symphony, and you will not be so worried
about each step, because the steps will come naturally. You will study and pray
and serve because that is what the music leads you to do, and you will only
want to dance along to that glorious music.
“Even when performed well, the
music will not solve all of our problems. There will still be crescendos and
decrescendos in our lives, staccatos and legatos. Such is the nature of life on
planet earth. But when we add music to the dance steps, the sometimes
complicated rhythms of marriage and family life tend to move toward a
harmonious balance” (Wilford W. Andersen, “The Music of the Gospel,” April LDS Conference,
2015).
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