Music and the Spoken Word

When We're Wrong - Sunday, August 5, 2018

We know that nobody is perfect—the evidence is all around us. It’s not hard to notice faults and errors in other people. But we are often less eager to admit our own faults, our own mistakes. It’s sometimes embarrassing, uncomfortable, even risky. Will others think less of us if we confess to being wrong?
A student once approached his teacher after class to dispute the low score he had received on an essay. Instead of brushing him off, the teacher read the essay again carefully and realized she had undervalued his work—she had made a mistake. After correcting his grade, she not only felt better about herself but made a lasting impression on the student. Rather than resenting her mistake or losing confidence in her abilities, he gained new respect for a teacher who was willing to take responsibility for her errors.
Admitting mistakes is not shameful. It simply means we are learning—that we are now wiser than we were before. Everyone who has achieved anything meaningful—great inventors, scientists, artists, athletes, entrepreneurs—experienced many failures on the path to success. But those failures are only beneficial if we’re willing to accept them as such.
Those who are too proud to acknowledge their own imperfections are fooling themselves—and usually nobody else. They are inventing an image that blocks their view of the road to improvement. And they miss the peace that comes from living with honesty—which always means living with imperfection.
When someone admits a mistake, we feel a rush of admiration. We also feel safe acknowledging our own shortcomings and confident that we too can improve. Imagine the effect on a child who learns from observing a parent that when we make mistakes, we own up to them, and we do better next time. How much better that is than pretending that we never make mistakes.
It isn’t until we accept that we are all works in progress that we actually do make progress. It’s a beautiful paradox that we cannot move forward until we admit that we’ve been moving backward. Owning our weakness is, in reality, perhaps the best way to show strength.
August 5, 2018
Broadcast Number 4,638

Mormon Tabernacle Choir
Orchestra at Temple Square

Mack Wilberg
Ryan Murphy

Andrew Unsworth

Lloyd Newell

Down to the River to Pray
American folk hymn; arr. Mack Wilberg

In the Garden
C. Austin Miles; arr. Ryan Murphy

Processional in E-flat Major
David N. Johnson

Gloria in Excelsis, from Grand Mass in C Minor
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

On a Clear Day, from On a Clear Day You Can See Forever
Burton Lane; arr. Arthur Harris

High on the Mountain Top
Ebenezer Beesley; arr. Mack Wilberg