BYU Speeches

To understand the necessity of defending religious freedom, we must first understand the central role of religion in history, culture, and humanity.

The prophets are our watchmen. Following their counsel will bring blessings and save us from the painful repetition of history.

I invite you to join me in engaging in the conditions of uncertainty that are a divinely designed part of what it means to be on earth.

To learn truth: Become a seeker—do not fear questions; love and respect all; and learn and share the vital principles and practices for knowing truth.

Tim McClain shares how feedback from the Holy Ghost, loved ones, and even our own failures can help us navigate our way through life.

Religious freedom is crucial for our nation. By being informed, speaking up, and getting involved, we can preserve religious freedom for everyone of faith.

D. Todd Christofferson, 26 June 2016

Many years ago, as a high school ­student, I had the opportunity to become acquainted with several Catholic nuns who lived in a convent in my hometown and worked in the nearby Catholic hospital. As their schedules permitted, I often spent time with them, walking in the park or visiting in the parlor of the convent. One afternoon I happened to be talking with Sister Columba. She was a tiny, elderly woman who had been a member of the Irish Army before she became a nun. That day she was sharing with me the profound love that she had for our Savior, Jesus Christ, and as she spoke, tears were streaming down her face. It was a powerful spiritual moment that touched me in the deepest center of my being. After I left that day, I pondered Sister Columba’s testimony of Christ. I had grown up as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I had attended my church meetings and seminary classes. I had frequently borne testimony that the gospel of Jesus Christ was true. And yet I couldn’t comprehend how it could be, with all of this truth, that I had never felt anything for Jesus Christ—certainly nothing like the level of worship and gratitude that I had experienced from Sister Columba. That afternoon with this frail nun in the quiet parlor of the convent became the definitive moment of my spiritual growth, as it launched a quest to know my Savior that has shaped my entire life. The most critical point, which I have at last come to comprehend, is the absolute centrality of Jesus Christ and His Atonement to every aspect of our lives. Because of that centrality, the most significant challenge for us is to learn to grasp this center and to build our lives upon this secure foundation. This injunction is nothing new. If we really look at it, this one fact—the centrality of Christ and the Atonement—builds the focus for all the religious instruction that the Church conveys. The question that I have been grappling with is this: Since Christ and His Atonement are so clearly the center toward which all our religious experience leads, why is it often so difficult for us to actually connect with that center and to make it our own in an active way? Of course there are many ways to answer this question, but today I would like to share some insights that I have found as I have pondered this ­question in my own life. Mortal Perception and Spiritual Perception We are born into this world as somewhat awkwardly composite beings in which an eternal spirit has been enclosed in a mortal, physical body. This dividedness comes, I believe, because these two disparate elements—mortal body and eternal spirit—provide us with two distinctly different mechanisms for comprehending the world. I will call these “mortal perception” and “spiritual perception.” Mortal perception is the means of understanding that is provided by our physical body. […]

I would like to share one personal observation: I have been associated with seven different universities over the course of my career. In my experience, there is nothing even remotely similar at any of those other institutions to what we are doing here today. It is remarkable what we do here each Tuesday morning. We share our testimonies and we share our experiences, and I am grateful for what I have learned from all of you as I have attended devotionals over the last twenty-two years. What I add today to that library of devotional wisdom is not new. I am acutely aware that I am merely revisiting truths that have been taught by many others with different words, by different means, and through different personal experiences. The seed for my thoughts today was planted more than a year ago as a successful family reunion came to an end. Even though our children are all grown, as their parents we feel some misplaced obligation to be on the last flight out and to see them all off safely. This usually gives my wife and me some extra time to visit more adult attractions while waiting for a later flight. Our preference seems to be for art museums. On this occasion we chose a museum not too far from the airport, in which one of the traveling exhibits happened to be of sixteenth-century engravings. My general lack of enthusiasm or appreciation, probably brought on by equal measures of ignorance and fatigue, was tempered by the observation of a theme throughout many of the engravings. Series after series of engravings depicted the seven virtues and the seven deadly sins. Almost all contained precisely the same compositional elements derived from scripture. And here is the seed that was planted: a representation of hope in many of the engravings. There were commonalities in all of these portrayals of hope: There was always a young woman looking longingly toward heaven, perhaps envisioning a brighter future in this life or in the next.  There was always the symbolism of the anchor, which is referred to in scripture in numerous places, but none so directly as in Hebrews 6:19: “Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast.” I have always been curious about hope and how we obtain it. It is something we all desire. In scripture it is always sandwiched between faith and charity. What is this hope, how does it act as an anchor of our souls, and how do we obtain this hope that we all seem to so desire? I will endeavor to address, if not answer, some of those questions today. I wish to dismiss rather quickly two worldly notions regarding both hope and anchors. Hope in the scriptural sense is not wishing. We use the word hope far too often in that shallow context and thereby confuse ourselves into believing that hope is a transitory state that can be achieved in times of duress through mere desire […]

Because of your royal identity, you will one day have more power than the most powerful superhero or princess. You have the potential to become limitless.

Blake E. Peterson urges students to turn to God for answers to their questions and to align their actions with their faith in order to "really believe."

The text for this speech is not available. However, please enjoy watching or listening to it through the links provided.

March 20 of this year was a beautiful day. It was warm and the sun was shining. Some of the trees had started to bud, and early blooms were visible. I had been anticipating this day with great excitement and a good deal of apprehension from the time I received a phone call three months earlier asking if I would play the organ at one of the Provo City Center Temple dedication sessions. I had never dreamed I would have a chance to serve in this capacity, for I knew there were scores of talented and accomplished organists in our temple district, and I was also keenly aware of my own inadequacies. Surprise and shock were some of the feelings I had when I got the call, but in the few seconds it took me to stammer out an acceptance of this assignment, I felt my Heavenly Father’s love. And even though I was very nervous, I sensed that this was one of His tender mercies. I was to have an experience similar to one that my beautiful paternal grandmother, Ethel Taylor Robinson, had had, and this created a sense of connection to her that I had not felt before. I never met her, as she died in her early thirties, but I knew of her and of her many talents. My home teacher made sure of that. He repeatedly told me what a wonderful musician she was and how much she was loved and missed by our community. In October 1927 my grandmother directed a stake choir that sang at the dedication of the Mesa Arizona Temple. Although four of the songs she performed with her choir in that dedication were different from the ones I played at the Provo City Center Temple dedication, we both performed the “Hosanna Anthem.” Realizing that we would both perform the same song in a temple of the Lord almost ninety years apart was a very sweet experience. I had other sweet experiences while our choir prepared and rehearsed. Choir members shared their testimonies and tender feelings about the temple, the gospel, and our Savior both in words and song. Everyone was focused on offering his or her very best to the Lord. In my personal practices I often felt inadequate and worried when I thought about performing in the celestial room, only a few feet away from the Lord’s apostles and in front of millions of viewers. I tried to calm myself with the feeling that if I put the time into my practice, the Lord would help me. I therefore practiced every day. The footwork with the organ pedals was my biggest challenge. I drilled the arpeggios and foot crossings over and over and over and over—slowly at first, and then I would attempt to speed them up to the performance tempo. Some repetitions went well, and I thought, “I can do this!” But on the very next repetition I would land on a note just adjacent to the one I was aiming for. So […]

When we choose to exercise our agency to learn, grow, and accomplish good in this world, our influence will naturally increase.

Our thoughts determine our destinies. We must keep our thoughts clean and pure.