In April, my mother-in-law suggested that I memorize a few hymns to help guide me as I serve in a new calling.  I wrote down a few hymn numbers but never followed through. Then last week, I asked her again.  By June, I was more motivated to follow through, so I did take the time to look at those hymns and a few others that I find comforting.

In particular, I decided to memorize Hymn #108 “The Lord Is My Shepherd,” which is based on Psalm 23.  I love the Koschat/Montgomery version.  Last week, I listened to the music and lyrics  of this version available on the church webpage (www.lds.org).  I shared the link to that audio file on the Relief Society Facebook page for our ward. Last Sunday, it was one of the hymns we sang during Sacrament, which touched me.  On Monday, I downloaded a version on my phone.

But I didn’t memorize the lyrics.

I figured that if I had my desktop computer at home or my cell phone with me everywhere I go, why would I need to push myself to memorize this hymn right away? I’d learn it over the summer if I played it frequently.

Then today I got a text at 4:30 am with an invitation to comfort another. After that tender meeting, I made a 6 hour round trip to another state to pick up my daughter from a week with her grandparents.  I was still trying to process my thoughts and feelings from earlier this morning, and I wanted to turn to this hymn. Because I had used my phone so much before my road trip, I was out of charge. And my back up battery was depleted as well.

This left me singing aloud mere fragments of “The Lord Is My Shepherd.”  I had relied too much on technology to support my memory.  I had no oil in my lamp.

This reminded me of a member of my church who spent years adding oil to his lamp.  Bro. Roberts from Wichita, Kansas had spent six decades developing a great moral character. He also was a man of many talents. He was a musician for most of his life and accomplished enough that he played in a few performing groups–including an army band. If I remember correctly, his instrument was the trombone.  He also enjoyed jazz, classical and many other forms of music. He had a notable record collection and spent significant time in his life enjoying great pieces of music.

During the last few months of his life, Bro. Roberts battled metastatic cancer, which affected all of his senses, including his hearing.  I had told his wife, Chris, that I was willing to come over and read to him or play symphonies, hymns or other pieces of music from his extensive collection. She thanked me for my willingness to do this. However, this offer was not going to work since his hearing now garbled sounds from the outside world.

Despite his limits, Bro. Roberts was not without resources. He had memorized many pieces of music—even complex music. This allowed him to use his memory to “play” these symphonies, hymns and other pieces of music. Doing so brought him great comfort while he struggled with a life-threatening illness.

What a great testament of the principle of putting oil in your lamp.

As this day draws to a close, I feel a renewed call to commit hymn lyrics to memory.  I have been singing these hymns for years, but I can sing more Broadway songs and pop songs from memory than I can sing hymns from the LDS hymnal.

If you see me walking the track at the gym with my ear buds stuck in my ears, don’t be surprised if you hear a few lyrics about green pastures and still waters.  The next time I need to find comfort for myself or I need to loan comfort to others, I hope to have a character with a stronger charge.