I have two reasons to write this blog. First, I enjoy writing and want to write better, so I want to practice. Second, and more importantly, I want to dwell on spiritual things and writing about them seems to work for me. Hopefully, someone else can benefit from this, too.
I work as a correctional officer in a medium security prison. In that prison are incarcerated some very bad people. They have done loathsome things, things which seem to indicate that their souls are lacking in some essential spiritual nutrient. Inmates also act differently, at least in prison: they are demanding, capricious, scheming, conniving, and generally unpleasant. Most constantly try to tease whatever advantage out of whatever situation they can.
They are the worst people our society creates. And Jesus Christ values them so much, He was willing to die for them.
Soon we will celebrate Christmas, the holiday when we picture the birth of our Lord. He was the Messiah, chosen before the world was to be the very Son of God, but He did not come with resplendent glory. He did not come with a train of angels, but in one of the most humble circumstances known to man. What does that tell us of the glory of humility?
There are but few of us who can not be redeemed from the prison we have constructed around us. We can have our shackles loosed, but we need the keys of the priesthood to do so, the ordinances and covenants which will bind us to Christ and allow Him to slowly and surely change us, to "fit us for heaven to live with [Him] there."
So should we loath the criminal? We loathe his crimes, of course, but the man? No, we shouldn't. Though few may choose it, all men have before them the Way to heaven and have the chance to be saved. All can be glorified and redeemed far above what we are. And all were, in the estimation of the Man of Holiness, valuable enough for Him to be born in a barn and to lie in straw, to live a life of penury and labor, and to die an ignominious and painful death. May we always remember that He values us all.
In the first century A.D., Judea was a Roman province. The Roman governor, supported by a legion of troops, imposed Roman will on the Jewish people. The Jews sought for deliverance; first, zealots sought to rebel from Rome, but were stamped out. They looked for a Messiah that would deliver them from their oppressors.
Then Jesus Christ was born in the city of David. He was the Messiah, but He came to deliver the Jews (and all others) from a more serious, though less immediate, enemy. He saved His own from death and hell, and made atonement for their sins.
Most Jews were expecting a political Messiah. They got a better one, but didn't most recognize Him. Do we sometimes do the same? Do we expect God to deliver us from the small enemy in front of us when in reality He is defending us from the bigger enemy farther away? Do we sometimes murmur because we are not saved in precisely the manner we want to be saved?
Having faith in adversity means accepting that the Lord is in the process of saving us, and that what pain we are experiencing is for our own benefit. Having faith in adversity means that perhaps the Lord will deliver us from the fiery furnace, but if not, then we will still be faithful unto death. Then, having died, we will be saved in heaven.
When we have faith in adversity, we tell God that we accept His will for us. We acknowledge that we are in His hands. But really, were we ever anywhere else?
Today at church, I was afraid my family was distracting others. It was stake conference, so rather than sit through and hour and a quarter of talks and other boring-to-toddler happenings our three kids, aged 3, 2, and 8 months had to sit through a full two hours of it. First the youngest, then the middle child "had" to be taken out because of their behavior (and for potty breaks).
Specifically, I was afraid that we were distracting the the family behind us. After the closing prayer, I apologized and was surprised when they said my kids were actually remarkably well behaved. They had noted that after an hour and a half, the kids were less inclined to behave, but that this was to be expected due to their habits and development. Furthermore, the family said they had probably been the distraction for our kids.
After choir practice, I had a conversation with another brother who mentioned that our children were so well "managed" that he was afraid they weren't getting a chance to be kids. I've thought about that some, and I think I've uncovered one of the subtle lies the adversary uses to discourage us.
Sometimes we see our imperfections too clearly. The devil throws our ugliness and sins in our faces so often that we don't see much else. That's half the victory for that old toad: when all we think about is sin, and spend no thoughts at all on virtue, there isn't much room for grace in our hearts.
When those imperfections are or could be public and well-known, sometimes the devil makes us fear men. We fear that others will not like us because of our imperfections (either real or pretended) or that we'll distract others, or disrupt the service, or not follow the lesson, or answer the question wrong, or any number of embarrassing possibilities. To diminish these possibilities, we create facades.
Of course, it is important to refrain from actually distracting others. We shouldn't be a stumbling block on another person's path. Yet when we start worshiping from a position of artificiality, when we start pretending to be what we are not just because we fear what other people will think, we're letting something artificial come between us and our relationship with the Lord. In a sense, we're creating our own idol.
At its best, the Church serves as a place where people won't judge you for your imperfections, but will help you overcome them. In a hospital, people aren't surprised or offended when they see sick people. So also should you not be surprised or offended when you see an imperfect person at church, nor should you believe that others will be surprised or offended when your imperfections are shining through. Rather than distracting others, perhaps you're inspiring them to help you, or reminding them that all people have a place in church.
"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."
Evidence is strong stuff. With it, we can change the course of history, expand our minds, and change lives. Without it, little can be done. Acquiring evidence is a long process which is sometimes very difficult and always very deliberate. No true scientist just happens to have evidence of his theories fall into his lap while he sits on his laurels.
Instead. scientists set up experiments to test their theories. They control for external variables, set up their experiments with care, then analyze and publish the results of their experiment, even if those results are inconclusive or puzzling. Without such a robust scientific method, the technological leaps our society has made in the past centuries wouldn't have been possible.
In other words, scientists examine something important, ask questions about it, then strive to receive their evidence. Shouldn't we approach our faith the same way?
Shouldn't we, when we learn more of God, ask important questions then set about to receive answers? How do we receive that evidence of things not seen? Both the apostle James and the prophet Moroni give us the answer: ask God. God, the source and fount of all knowledge, can give us that evidence, but we have to seek it deliberately, as deliberately as if we were conducting an experiment in a laboratory.
So experiment on the Word: apply it in your life, as much as you can, study it out, and ask God what the truth is. As long as you're willing to hear the answer, He will give you what He wants you to hear.
One of the duties that the Lord tasks us with is to serve our fellow man. Like any duty He gives us, we quickly find that it is solely designed to improve us and make us more like Him. We should understand that duty and do our best to fulfill it. One thing that I've noted about service is that when the Savior asks us to serve our fellow man, he's not telling us to come up with a theoretically perfect service project. Often, He isn't going to give us perfect conditions, perfect weather, perfect timing, or serendipitous circumstances. Sometimes His loving-kindnesses make these things possible, and greatly reduce our burdens, but in the end our duties are still required of us, not as an academic exercise but in our practical reality.
We need to have
charity, not in a vacuum or in a snow globe but in the lone and dreary world in
which we now live. We need to forgive,
not as an mental exercise but here and now, even if we’ve been hurt and are
still hurting. We need to give other
people our love and our time, even if it’s inconvenient and we think we have
better things to do.
In the end, we're not serving God except when we serve our fellow man. And when we serve our fellow man, we're bound to bump up against delays, imperfections, character flaws, and sins. We're going to get impatient, bored, confused, frustrated, and even angry.
The end result, however, is worth it. We live in the world as it is, so we're going to bump into the delays and imperfections anyway. True service can truly mitigate the frustrations of mortality, blessing both them serving and them being served by shining a light into the divine potential in each of us. By highlighting what is good and great in each of us, service turns us toward God and makes us better than if we were turned around gnawing on our little morsels. It gives us a feast of godliness and holiness to consume, and makes us part of something greater than ourselves.
So in the end, when we devote our lives to serving God and our fellow man, we are not simply turned into ourselves, with our own base lusts and our own petty hurts; instead, we are sons and daughters of the Most High, animated with the greatest principles and blessed with the highest ordinances an almighty God has to offer. Let us serve!
Imagine yourself in a rubber inflatable life raft. Tragedy has struck, and you are among a small group of survivors in a handful of these precarious craft bobbing in the middle of a vast ocean. Resources are limited.
Now imagine that a huge luxury cruise liner pulls up beside you. The Captain announces over the bullhorn that He is offering you free passage to a paradise destination, and all you must do is climb the ladder they are lowering to you.
However, some of the other survivors don't seem to understand the choice before them: they are consumed with making what they believe are life-and-death choices, such as which life rafts have fewer holes in them, which holes should be patched using the limited repair kits, and how to make extra fishing line. When asked about the cruise liner, several people stated they couldn't understand what the Captain had said over the bullhorn. One person stated that it was unreasonable to ask a survivor to climb such a distance. Another said that since only one person could ascend up the ladder at a time, that the system was prejudiced and unjust.
Another survivor mocked the ship, saying that he couldn't see for certain that the people so far up were any better off. Another cursed the liner for blocking the sun and making such a huge wake; this, he said, made it harder for the survivors on the water's surface to make their own decisions.
You decide to climb the ladder to the ship's deck above. It's a tiring journey, and at first, it appears dangerous. As you climb, however, you realize that the ladder is also being pulled up. The people above are helping you climb.
It's still fatiguing, though, both physically and emotionally. As you pass many portholes on your way up, you see beautiful people enjoying sumptuous meals and several types of engaging entertainment. You wonder how you will fit in and whether you even want to associate with them, You are, at once, jealous of their comfort, and angry that some of them don't see you. Some do see you and shout encouragement. This keeps up your motivation, and you start to approach the top.
This is the most difficult part of the climb. The ladder doesn't appear to be moving anymore, you have blisters on your hands and your bare feet are cut up. It would be easy to slip back down to the world you know rather than go on...so you have to make a choice. Do you give up the life raft entirely? Once you go over that railing, there's no turning back. What do you do?
When we decide to follow Jesus Christ, we embark on a road that is both hard and easy. As the Lord said, "For my yoke is easy, and my burden in light." He tells us strait off the bat that there is a burden associated with following Him, but it is a light burden. And why is it light? Because it is only temporary. Eventually we arrive at the deck above, and our souls are saved. Eventually (though it seems like a long time) the exertion is done, our trial is over, and we are headed to paradise.
So let's stay on that strait and narrow road, even if some people on it don't quite meet our expectations. Let's climb the ladder to be rescued, and in the end when we tumble over the railing, we'll find peace and healing beyond compare. Let those who want to remain on the water--our home is far above.
In the hymn above, the singer pleads to the Lord that Jesus walk with him through the many phases and facets of his life. There are good sentiments in it, but I suggest that perhaps it's a bit wrong-footed. Instead of praying that Jesus walk with us, we should be praying that we walk with Jesus.
I remember that when the Savior walked the earth, He did not batter down doors offering to heal the embittered souls who blamed God for their misfortune, nor did He allow those who were spiritually healed to sit on their laurels and do nothing but praise. Instead, He called on men to forsake all to follow Him; He had a blind man wash mud out of his eyes, a centurion beg a Jew for a favor, and he had Jairus to go to the social trouble of putting out the professional mourners. He constantly required people to stretch, to move, to change.
Does this mean that by following the commandments we're buying our salvation with good works, that somehow we are creating or deserving the grace of God? Of course not. But just like a baby being born is, in its own way, working to twist and turn and assist in birth, so we have to turn our souls toward God to fully accept the grace the He would freely give to us, if we would but let Him.
The devil, of course, cannot create anything. He can't innovate, update, produce, design, or form. The most he can do is take what God has already made and alter, dilute, adulterate, take out of context, subvert, and change it.
For example, the Lord has stated that discipleship to Him is as an easy yoke, and that His burden is light. "Come ye, all who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." So if God does not laden us with heavy burdens, who does?
I find that one of the tools the devil uses is to manipulate God's moderate reality into two seemingly opposite extremes, then claim a false dichotomy. Either man should be heavy laden with a hedge around the law, or man should not be laden with a law at all. Either man is saved entirely by grace with no human intervention, or we must listen to hellfire and brimstone at church every week. Either we can cavort like pagans on Fat Tuesday or we must mortify the flesh days afterward. Even better if we can be convinced to do both.
The reality God has created, however, does not lie comfortably in any such dichotomy, simply because the adversary has co-opted the discussion and is controlling both sides of the debate. Neither the ascetic nor the hedonist are in the right; instead, the right is somewhere in the middle, and most likely off to the left a little bit, away from where the devil has convinced us the issue lies.
As a result, real discipleship doesn't conform to what the world understands. It's a stumbling block to them, it's foolishness...yet it is also eternal reality, so we need to understand what discipleship is, what it means, and what happens because of it. It's hard, because our individualistic society doesn't get why we have to devote ourselves to anyone other than ourselves; it's easy because once we do, we know exactly where we can get hope and salvation. It's hard because we have to kill the natural man; it's easy because the natural man isn't what we want to be anyway, and we see such a better alternative. It's hard because everything that surrounds us calls us to think as the world thinks; it's easy because One calls us to think as He thinks.
So ultimately, it's an easy yoke, but it is a yoke. It's a light burden, but it is a burden. Only when we accept the idea that medicine really does taste yucky, but not too yucky, will we finally arrive at the middle ground the Lord created in the first place.
When Jesus taught the parable of the talents, he made an interesting point. Three servants are given sums of money by their Lord, who goes on a long journey. Two of them are faithful and work hard with the money that is given to them. One of these faithful servants had been given five talents; the other had been given two. When the Lord returned, he found that the servant who had been given five talents had, through trade, made five more, for a total return on investment of 100%. He responded:
21 His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into thejoy of thy lord.
Next, the Lord finds that the servant who had been given two talents had, through trade, made two more, for a total return on investment of 100%. He responded:
23 His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithfulservant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
Both servants were awarded exactly the same thing. In other words, these servants' rewards didn't depend on what they had been given, nor even on how much they had, but on how much they made in relation to what they had been given, their return on investment.
Similarly, while it may seem unfair that some are dealt a poorer hand in this world, in the end that won't matter. It won't matter in the eternities if you were rich or poor, but whether you were productive or not. It won't matter if you were popular or ignored, but whether you were kind or ignoring.
So let's create, let's build, let's inspire, and let's make the most out of what we've been given. In the end, when this world and everything in it passes away, all we'll have is our ability to create.
I’m a correctional officer. I work with male offenders in a
medium-security correctional institution and have met some very shady
characters. I’ve dealt with drug cartel
leaders, murderers, terrorists (though only minor ones), drug dealers, child
molesters, and white supremacists, among others. I’ve stopped reading their files because
seeing the particular crimes for which they are incarcerated can make the bile
rise up and the rational mind float away.
And in the nearly three years I’ve done this work, I have come up with
one troubling conclusion: God loves them just as much as He loves me.
On the one
hand, I see them up to their worst: gambling, running with gangs, assaulting
one another, lying through their teeth, and generally taking everything they
can con from a staff member. On the
other, I’ve seen them be honest, patient, gracious, loyal, and even
grateful.
Inmates,
regardless of what they have done, are still fundamentally human and have
access to the grace that Jesus Christ offers.
They have done vile things that both separate them from God and that
spread blood and horror on the Earth. In
the end, though, are we non-inmates fundamentally different? We don’t molest children, but non-inmates can
also be jealous, adulterous, and selfish.
We, too, find ourselves light-years from the perfections and glories of
God. The fact that we’re inches or even
yards closer than some other person won’t matter much if we don’t get closer to
Him.
Each of us
needs God’s love, and each of us has been given the freedom to decide what we
want: freedom and life eternal, or captivity and eternal death. Each of us can embrace the work of God (“For
this is my work and my glory, to bring to pass the exaltation and eternal life
of man”) or we can wander in strange places and do the works of the devil, and
reap the rewards thereof. In other
words, we can love all men, including inmates, or we can damn ourselves with
our own hate.
True love,
the love of God, strengthens and ennobles men.
True love may not be gentle if gentleness would tempt to predation, as
it would in prison. True love may even
be “tough love” if that is what wisdom calls for. True love is acting as the Savior did,
serving wholeheartedly and teaching unabashedly, for only when we love like our
Savior can we truly say we love at all.
So
when I’m giving inmates their meals, or their laundry, or listening in
consternation as they ask the same question for the hundredth time, I have to
love them. God, after all, gives us our
food, our clothes, and listens as we ask the same question for the hundredth time. So let’s love one another, for if God loves
inmates, then we should too.
I must admit, I am taking the title of today's post from a book I'm seen. You see, we shouldn't be fans of Jesus Christ.
A fan will do a lot of crazy things for the object of his/her fanaticism, whether it's midnight releases, standing in line for hours, attending conventions, or any such self-imposed rigors. Fans, however, just do the outward motions. They'll buy the toys, but leave them in mint condition; they'll dress up as their favorite characters, but not truly examine what those characters teach; they'll speak loudly in favor of a social virtue but do little or nothing in their own lives to make that virtue more common.
In short, we shouldn't be fans of Jesus Christ--instead, we should be His disciples.
To the uninformed, the disciple may seem just as illogical as the fan. The disciple, for example, will donate large amounts of money and time to an organization with far more money and manpower than the disciple has. He/she will give up previous or potential habits, will, at great effort, deliberately avoid seemingly harmless, socially acceptable behavior, and will, quite literally, change his/her life in order to accommodate the teachings of a lot of dead people.
Today, it seems like it's easier to be a fan than a disciple: the fan just has to jump and shout a lot, while the disciple has the quiet job of changing human nature.
Both will be highly visible efforts. No one camps out days before a book signing without understanding that people will see you; no one gives up gluttony or vulgar speech without coming to terms with its social ramifications.
Of the two, discipleship is the hardest, and it is discipleship which is asked of us. We're not asked to go about an occasional, herculean effort; instead, we're asked to work day-in and day-out.
We've been taking monthly temple trips this summer; unfortunately, due to my own inattentiveness we weren't able to this month, Although that particular day didn't end up a complete disaster, it was nevertheless frustrating because we had been looking forward to it. Being in the temple is such a positive experience, you can't help but be disappointed when the chance is lost.
Being in the temple is like being enveloped in purpose. Everything is in its' proper place and context, and in its' proper strength and priority. In a world where our priorities are increasingly disjointed, where good is called evil and evil good, the temple is a balm and a refuge.
Where else can we be endowed with such power? Where else can we be so cleansed? Where else can we commune with God at such a personal level?
So let's take the temple less for granted, and make each trip a pilgrimage, whether that pilgrimage lasts hours or just minutes. Let's make our homes more similar to the temple, and prepare ourselves to fully receive the blessings of the temple.
We American Mormons have a patriotic kick about us, don't we? Thing is, we see how good we have it. Yes, other countries are good too (maybe not quite as good, but good). Other countries are blessed by the Lord and have good people in them. But this country, specifically, is where the Restoration took place. Our freedoms, given to us by God, enabled the gospel to come forth (also from God).
So when I look at the freedoms, blessings, and just plain goodness of our country, I have to thank the Good Lord for it. Sure, we have our faults, our telestial cultures, our eccentricities and our collective sins. No country doesn't. But there is goodness and truth in this country, and I love America for it.
For most of us, fatigue is a far too common state of affairs. Not just physical, but emotional, intellectual, or spiritual fatigue can be draining, especially if prolonged over periods we feel are unreasonable. Fatigue can not only sap our ability to do work now, but can insidiously lessen our ability to do work later.
Often, however, we cannot decrease the amount of work we are required to do. We must do enough work to make a living; we must follow the Savior and work for the Kingdom; we must continue to be husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers. The vast majority of sources of work cannot be honorably abandoned. So how do we decrease our fatigue without decreasing the amount of work we must do? Let me suggest three things.
First, we should realize that work is a natural state of affairs. A good portion of fatigue sometimes comes from the unrealistic expectation that work is just a temporary inconvenience, and that life is most complete and joyful when it is filled exclusively with leisure. Society tells us that we can indeed retire and live only for ourselves, and when reality is cruel enough to dampen this dream, we leave disappointed. When we accept that work is a natural part of a joy-filled life, then the false expectation does not leave us disappointed.
Second, we should look carefully at the type of work we do. When we can change what work we do, we should do what we feel is the best work for us. This can mean that we enter a field of employment where we are challenged and inspired, or that we can conduct our personal relationships and service in ways that are consistent with the principles of the gospel. When circumstances dictate what type of work we must do, we can always find a way to be inspired by it, to find the best in a bad situation and see God's loving kindnesses all around us.
Third, we should seek renewal in equal portions to work. A weight lifter on a crash diet does not become stronger. Rather, without the nutrients to repair his muscles after lifting, he only injures himself and weakens his ability to lift more. With adequate nutrition, people can work out for hours a day on strenuous regimens, building large amounts of strength in relatively short amounts of time. Similarly, we can do large amount of physical, emotional, or spiritual work should we provide ourselves with the needed fuel. For physical work, the answer is food and water. For spiritual work, especially that involved with the work of salvation, the renewal we need can be found in personal or family scripture study, temple worship, or personal prayer or reflection.
So let's get to work! Our work is important, and cannot be shirked, and when we commit ourselves to lives of joy and work, when we prioritize the most important work, and when we give ourselves the renewal we need to continue working, we will find that we are far stronger than if we were simply seeking amusement and leisure. "For behold this is my work and my glory, to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man."
From the time of Adam to the time of Moses, and from Moses to Jesus Christ, the Lord's covenant people were commanded to sacrifice the first fruits of the field and the first-lings of the flock unto the Lord. Upon the death, Atonement, and Resurrection of the Lord, sacrifice by the shedding of blood was ended, for no greater blood could be shed than that of the Lamb of God.
However, while we do not perform burnt or wave offerings, the law of Sacrifice is still in effect. Instead of sacrificing livestock, we sacrifice money, time, talents, and anything with which the Lord has blessed us.
Most of all, we sacrifice a broken heart and a contrite spirit. What are these things? The ancients zealously and exactly adhered to the sacrificial ordinances they were given; how do we sacrifice as zealously and exactly? In other words, what is the nature of a broken heart and a contrite spirit?
First, a broken heart recognizes the need for the Savior and His Atonement. It is a feeling of remorse for the way we've messed up our lives, and a recognition that we need to be somewhere else. A broken heart does not try to hold onto a little bit of sin, but is willing to put it all away, even when it is uncomfortable.
Second, a contrite spirit is the willingness and desire to start accepting the grace that the Lord would give to us, to accept the Lord's sovereignty over our lives and to start acting according to His commandments. A contrite spirit makes and keeps sacred covenants with the Lord without trying to impose one's owns conditions, timelines, or exceptions to such covenants.
Together, a broken heart and a contrite spirit make us give up the things of the world. Perhaps the most difficult sacrifice we are required to make is to sacrifice control over our own lives. No longer are we able to walk our own paths; with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, we are forced to abandon our own strange paths and walk the strait and narrow path defined only by God.
Indeed, the greatest sacrifices, the most difficult, all entail a loss of control: Abraham was willing to sacrifice Isaac, even though he wouldn't be able to control his legacy afterwords; Peter and his brethren sacrificed their fishing despite the financial uncertainty this created for their families, and so on.
The end result of these sacrifices is more and greater joy than we ever have here, but in the temporal blinders of the here and now, the eternal consequences sometimes seem distant and/or opaque. So giving up control of our own lives and defining them based on the will of the Lord is difficult. But it is worthwhile, even necessary.
Of all the perfections the Lord exhibits, I think I like mercy the best. Merriam-Webster defines mercy as "compassion or forbearance shown especially to an offender or to one subject to one's power," as well as "a blessing that is an act of divine favor or compassion." Both definitions seems to be very applicable to my life: on the one hand, I need mercy because of the myriad ways I fail and fall short of God's glory. I also need mercy just to get through the day. God provides both types of mercies: the great mercy that forgives me at Judgement Day, and the small mercies that make this life the joy that it is.
In order to accept that mercy, though, we need to be merciful ourselves. I'm not sure how it works, but I know it does. It seems that we are able to receive just as much mercy as we're able to give. If we can't forgive another person their debts, then God will not forgive us our own debts. If we are willing to take a couple of extra minutes to bless someone's life or make their day go easier, God often does the same for us. In other words, by reflecting the virtue we see in God, even imperfectly we come to know such virtue better and are better primed to receive it. If we turn to the Lord, we will become more like Him; if we lose our life, it will be saved.
Isaiah 58:13-14: "If thou turn away thy foot from the Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day; and call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honorable; and shalt honor him, not doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words: Then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord; and I will cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.
Six days in the week we grind away--sometimes it's work, sometimes it's play, sometimes it's something in between, but for six days our attentions are focused on our day to day lives.
Yet we are eternal creatures having a mortal experience. Our day to day lives, while they are important, are not the most important thing. So we are given the blessing of the Sabbath, a day to concentrate our attentions on things that matter more, but which are less immediate.
One day a week, we stop our labors and do not add to the labors of others. One day a week, we get the chance to change ourselves and have a holy day.
As a child, I thought of the Sabbath day mostly as a day with prohibitions. I thought it was a difficult day, and if the only thing one concentrates on is the prohibitions then the Sabbath is onerous. Nature abhors a vacuum, and if the only thing you concentrate on is what to remove you'll find you won't be able to. Instead, focus on what to substitute. Focus not on what daily tasks you should avoid, but what godly tasks you should do. Concentrate not on the day to day concerns, but on the eternal problems, and then you will find that the Sabbath becomes a true joy.
This is because by concentrating on the things that matter most, our minds become prepared to receive all the blessings that rain down from heaven toward us. By observing the Sabbath day (and by engaging in all the holy habits) we reorganize and re-prioritize so that we are capable of receiving more than we otherwise would. And when the Sabbath day is a holy day instead of a holiday, when it is a delight, a day to do the work of the Lord, then we will be fed with "the heritage of Jacob [our] father."
How do we remember? When your spouse tells you to "remember to grab a gallon of milk," is she only telling you to think about grabbing a gallon of milk? Or does remembrance require more than mere thought?
Remembering does require thought, but it also requires more. It requires that we retain something in our minds, and that it changes who we are and what we do. When we remember to do a chore, we do it. When we remember our beloved departed, we experience joy, grief, fondness, and pain.
And when we remember the Lord our God, it changes who we are and what we do. Rather than blithely walking along our own strange paths, when we remember the Lord we return to His paths, acknowledge His sovereignty, and accept the grace and healing that He would send us through His new and everlasting covenant. In a sense, remembering, like faith, first requires thought, then leads to action, then culminates in result. And when we remember the Lord, we inevitably become closer to Him, for we are drawn to him as sheep called by the Good Shepherd. So let us remember Him.
Today during a special stake conference we heard from our Stake President, who quoted the following verse from 3 Nephi 1:
But there were some who began to say that the time was past for the words to be fulfilled, which were spoken by Samuel, the Lamanite. And they began to rejoice over their brethren, saying: Behold the time is past, and the words of Samuel are not fulfilled; therefore your joy and your faith concerning this thing hath been vain. And it came to pass that they did make a great uproar throughout the land; and the people who believed began to be very sorrowful, lest by any means those things which had been spoken might not come to pass. But behold, they did watch steadfastly for that day an that night an that day which should be as one day as if there were no night, that they might know that their faith had not been vain.
What the people of God hear from the Great and Spacious Building is different variations on the same theme: your faith is in vain. Yet faith in the Lord Jesus Christ is never in vain; instead, it is faith in the only historical inevitability that we mere mortals can know.
Here on earth we have very short vision: we see the past with difficulty, and we can't see the future at all. Only through the prophets and apostles can give us true visions of the future. Consequently, it may appear like all is failing, that the light is falling, and that it may never grow brighter again. Yet we have been called to have faith in Him regardless of whether we prosper or not. We have been called to be witnesses of God in all times, in all places, and in all things.
To paraphrase the Master, consider the lilies of the field. They do not wilt when they consider their short lives, or mourn that they are planted in mud or dry ground. Wherever they can, they gloriously bloom, and in so blooming, make the world a richer place.
So let us, even in times of despair, bloom with the love of God and man, being patient for the Second Coming of our Lord, even when the Great and Spacious Philosophies keep telling us that the time of religious faith is past.
On Palm Sunday, Jesus rode triumphantly into Jerusalem, heralded by a "very great multitude" of people who obviously believed in him. This was one of few events of the Savior's mortal ministry that was recorded in all four gospels.
What I wonder is what it would have been like to be in that crowd. At that time, believing in Jesus wasn't very popular. One man, blind since birth, had been expelled from the synagogue because he testified to the Sanhedrin that Jesus had given him sight. The ruling leaders, the Pharisees, and the Sadducees all publicly opposed Him, and within the next few days, a crowd of angry residents of Jerusalem would prove more bloodthirsty than the Romans and call for Jesus' death by torture. And while all would forsake Him the night in Gethsemene, now they didn't. Now they shouted for joy, they waved palm branches, they spread their garments in the street.
They made it known that Jesus was important to them. Do we do that? Do we take the time to share with others what we think and feel about the Christ? Do we allow ourselves to be counted among the believers, even in ways that will be inconvenient? This Restoration is only a second Triumphal Entry, a time when we can prepare for our Lord and share with words, deeds, and symbols just how much Jesus means to us. The battle is won, the victor decided on that Sunday we will celebrate in a week. Now, we're just awaiting the victory lap and deciding whether we want to side with truth and life or misery and death.
Verse 4: Note that of the things Lehi leaves behind on his journey are valuable things, but things which can be afforded to be left. Lehi is, in a sense, re-prioritizing. He takes only his family and the things they need to survive. While many of the things he leaves behind are beautiful and precious, they can't come along because of the weight. Lehi forsakes them, and becomes richer for it.
I think that we sometimes mistake how precious some things are. There's a story out there about a very righteous man, who also happens to be very rich, and who convinced the Lord that he should be able to take some of his riches with him to the next life. To prepare for his death, the righteous man packed a suitcase full of gold bullion, worth about $1 million. When he arrived at the pearly gates, he reminded St. Peter of his deal. Peter acknowledged that such was his right, and asked to see what was inside the suitcase. The righteous man obliged, very proud of owning something so valuable. Peter looked in, smiled a little, then said: "Why in heaven would you bring pavement?"
Later in the Book of Mormon, the Lord acknowledges that he blesses the righteous with beautiful and precious things; as examples, he specifically mentions gold and silver. So their possession by the righteous isn't a problem. Yet when a person or nation is embarking on the type of journey that Lehi is undertaking, such precious things become less useful, and thus less valuable. When we engage in the sacred journeys the Lord sends us on, what do we have to give up? Do we have to give up possessions only, or do we also have to forsake habits and behaviors?
Verses 9-14: Laman and Lemuel's reaction to this journey (Lehi's sacrifice of the good for the best) is ambivalent at best and hostile at worst. They recognize, rightly, that the things they've left behind are good and valuable, but because they don't understand the current situation as well as Lehi, they don't see how the value of gold has changed. With the destruction of Jerusalem looming, the treasures aren't worth as much; from Laman and Lemuel's point of view, however, there is no destruction coming.
What Lehi does in these verses is try to convince Laman and Lemuel to move past the good and accept the best, to sacrifice as he is sacrificing. Again, we're talking about behaviors here and not just things--sacrificing things is hard, but sacrificing behaviors is both harder and more rewarding.
Verse 15: Initially, this verse may seem rather incongruous with the rest of the chapter. Because of our cultural background, it seems to come out of left field. Yet the fact that Lehi dwelt in a tent shows a significant humility on the part of Lehi. It may seem obvious-what else would Lehi dwell in while he was in the wilderness?-but to Nephi, this had some significance beyond the type of dwelling Lehi abode in.
Verse 16: Here Nephi had a choice. He could have sided with Laman and Lemuel and focused so much on the good things he was missing out on rather then on the best things he could be achieving. Instead Nephi chose to ask of the Lord.
Verse 17-18: Once again, we see Nephi choosing to follow what he feels is his duty. Upon feeling the Spirit and being converted, Nephi felt it was incumbent upon him to share his experiences with his brothers. Sam accepted his testimony, but Laman and Lemuel did not.
Verses 19-24: Remember, these promises come because Nephi is crying out to the Lord on behalf of his brothers Laman and Lemuel. Like so many prophets in the Book of Mormon, the Lord truly opens the windows of heaven once his son begins praying for his "enemy." Only then does the Lord grant these blessings, and explain the larger context behind Laman and Lemuel's rebellion.
Laman and Lemuel weren't bad people at the start of all of this. Instead, they simply concentrated on pavement too much. The consequences of that didn't just affect Laman and Lemuel's salvation but made their entire posterity to be a scourge and be cursed. Cursed with what? A mark (a setting apart as less spiritual than the Nephites). Thus does materialism work to separate us from God: it makes us jealous, spiteful, removes the knowledge of God from among the materialists, and makes a wholesome and delightful people into a grasping, petty nation.
While at BYU, I had a religion instructor who had us write a 10 page research paper on a single chapter of scripture at the end of each course. I must have been a glutton for punishment, because I took three of this professor's classes.
While the following series of posts won't be ten pages long, I do think it might be helpful for me to write about each chapter of scripture as I read them. The purposes would align with those of the larger blog: to give me writing practice about gospel topics, expose me to the gospel more, and possibly help someone else in their day.
1 Nephi 1
This is probably the most often read chapter in the Book of Mormon; it is also one of the most profound. This was one of the chapters I did the famed 10-page reports on for my Book of Mormon class with Prof. Gaskill. I won't go into the same depth I did for his paper, but I just wanted to write some notes about what I thought while rereading it this morning.
Verse 1: 10 pages could be written about this verse alone. First, Nephi's penchant for seeing the silver lining is obvious here. Yes, he had a rather dysfunctional family, yes he was forced to flee his home for his life (several times), yes he suffered in the wilderness, but he chose to recognize the blessings of the Lord rather than harp on how difficult it was. Second, Nephi notes that because he had goodly parents, he had been instructed in the learning of his father, and that because he had been instructed in learning, he had an obligation to record the proceedings of his days. What sort of obligation does this teach that we have? First, if we would be goodly parents, we have a duty to teach our children (or at least see that they are taught) about all that we know. Second, when we have learning and skills, we also have an obligation to use them. Third, part of the reason for writing is to pass information from one generation to another; journaling, evidently, is more important that I had realized.
Verse 3: Why does Nephi include this verse? Maybe to provide a certificate of authenticity, and allow the reader to know where the text is coming from.
Verse 5-7: What started Lehi's prophetic career was concern for his people. Lehi prays on behalf of his people; evidently he had believed the prophets who had come before him. In response to his selfless prayer, Lehi receives a vision on the rock in front of him, then goes home and receives another vision.
Verse 11-14: This book intrigues me. In it is written the judgments of God about Jerusalem--that it should be destroyed, and the denizens of that city either killed or carried away captive. Yet right after he reads these things, Lehi praises God for being merciful. I think the reason for this is because Lehi rightly saw the reasons behind the destruction of Jerusalem. Here on earth, surrounded by our mortal environment, and enveloped in a finite, time-bound point of view it can seem unfair, unjust, or even petty for the Lord to condemn an entire city as He did Jerusalem. In reading this book of the Lord, however, Lehi overcame (through the grace of God) his own mortal constraints and saw a portion of what God intended. Lehi saw Jerusalem as it actually was, and Lehi saw the destruction of Jerusalem for what it actually accomplished.
I think the Lord has a longer view on death and destruction than we do. When we see such tragedy, we mourn, but I think the Lord doesn't always make as big a deal of it, simply because He sees the eternal consequences of such acts.
One such consequence that Lehi infers is made evident when Lehi praises God by saying "because thou art merciful, thou wilt not suffer those who come unto thee that they shall perish!" Might one reason the Lord destroyed Jerusalem be because they were willing to kill, either physically or spiritually, any trying to come closer to the Father? At what point does culture become so anti-religion that God needs to set things right with such disruptions?
Verse 18-19: Once again, we see the obligation of the learned. Because Lehi had seen such great and marvelous things, he was obligated to warn those who surrounded him. This obligation, I think, is equally incumbent upon ourselves.
Verse 20: Finally, Nephi's unflagging optimism comes to the fore. Yes, the Jews wanted to kill Lehi, but Nephi sincerely believes that Lehi is better off now than before. Some might say the Lord's tender mercies might be put to better use if they were to prevent the threats to Lehi's life. Yet Nephi recognizes that it's better to be involved in the Lord's work and be persecuted, than to be uninvolved. The Lord' tender mercies, in fact, simply allow Lehi to better serve Him, and to accomplish His work. These tender mercies (a protected flight into the wilderness, and a promised land) don't exist to make Lehi comfortable, but to bless Lehi. Blessings, sometimes, are difficult pills to swallow.
For those who aren't familiar with the LDS conception of the Restoration, some background might be helpful. When our Savior Jesus Christ created Christianity during his mortal ministry, he organized a Church with specific offices, functions, and doctrines. After His death, Resurrection, and ascension, the apostles lead the Church with the help of continuing revelation from God. For multiple reasons, however, the apostles were all killed off; originally, new apostles were ordained to replace dead ones, but after a while this stopped. With the death of all the apostles, revelation left the earth and Christianity was left to play a centuries-long game of Telephone. The Fathers did their best to teach only what they learned from the apostles, but the doctrines and ordinances started to change as the Apologists and Theologians started to explain, then to conceptualize Christianity in reference to the pagan (Western) philosophy and society which surrounded them. Essentially, Christian leaders were becoming Westernized, and this wrought a change in Christianity from its' original, pure form.
Whereas some Christian theologians see this evolution as Christianity coming to understand itself, Mormons claim that this change was a falling away, an apostasy. Much like the Protestant Reformers, we see the philosophies of men accreted on Christianity's hull, making it appear to be something it is not. Unlike the Reformers, we do not believe that mere study of the Bible can correct these errors--one key error was the acceptance of the closed cannon. Where Reformation must fail, however, Restoration would be successful. Instead of straining really hard to hear the message from mortal lips (or to understand the Hebrew or Greek) we should be going to the source of the message itself.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is that Restoration. God has restored revelation back on the earth again, and is endeavoring to spread His gospel in its' fullness and purity. We are a part of that Restoration, because while many of the miraculous and moments events have already taken place, the Restoration is still ongoing.
So what role do we play in the ongoing Restoration? The Book of Mormon is translated, the priesthood restored, the Church organized; what's left? Plenty. The work of salvation is the work of Restoration, so any time we share the gospel, do family history or temple work, or better our understanding of the gospel, we are participating in the Restoration. When we serve missions, magnify our callings, make and keep sacred covenants, and otherwise spread the stakes of Zion we are spreading the Church, if only in our own hearts; that is Restoration.
There will also be plenty of the miraculous and momentous to come. We've seen the number of temples around the world explode. We've seen the number of missionaries also increase drastically. How long until we hear the announcement that the New Jerusalem will be built? We don't know, but we can have faith that our contribution, however small it may appear, will be sufficient (somehow, it always is) and will help bring the work to fruition.
To quote the Lord in the Doctrine and Covenants, section 4:
Therefore, if ye have desires to serve God ye are called to the work;
For behold the field is white already to harvest; and lo, he that thrusteth in his sickle with his might, the same layeth up in store that he perisheth not, but bringeth salvation to his soul;
And faith, hope, charity and love, with an eye single to the glory o God, qualify him for the work.
Today in Sunday School our lesson was on the Lord's Covenant People--in other words, about us. Two seperate points struck me.
First of all, we all make covenants with the Lord, but why are we called a covenant people? I think it is because the Lord recognizes that we are social creatures. Our salvation is calculated individually, but it is achieved collectively, as we embark in the company of saints on this lifelong migration toward God.
As a result, not only do the covenants we make change who we are individually, they change who we are collectively, including how we interact with each other.
So what does this mean for us personally? It means that the Mormon sitting next to you is also a pioneer heading their way toward Zion. It means that each is equally valuable--from the Bishop to the deacons to the semi-active member, each can participate and add to the company's success.
The second major point is that becoming a covenant people involves a whole attitudinal shift. Rather than concentrate soley on the distance that separates one from God, the covenant people concentrates on the progress they make. The difference lies in which direction one looks: if one is obsessed with the sin that divides us from God, even if looked at with the lens of guilt, then one is not looking toward God. The covenant people instead acknowledge their sin, but do so with their faces pointed toward the God that saves them.
In other words, covenants change everything about us. They change how we interact with others, how we view our sins, how we view ourselves, how we view the world around us. No wonder covenants and the physical ordinances that teach us of those covenants are so vital to the gospel.
Today's Sunday School lesson on the Priesthood brought home an important point for me. Hell is no other people.
Our greatest triumphs in life come through other people. When we are truly successful in life, it is because we have served others and made their way a little easier; in so doing, we become greater than we otherwise would be because we become part of something bigger than ourselves. Consider some successful people: doctors (who heal other people), firemen, (who save other people), musicians (who entertain and inspire other people), or policemen (who protect other people).
When we truly fail in life, it is because we have turned inward and acted solely for our own entertainment, desires, or interests. Consider some famously bad people: corrupt politicians, greedy businessmen, gangsters, or the like. All make sure they take care of #1 first.
In reality, the #1 doesn't need our help. Instead, He taught that we should love our neighbors as ourselves; neither they nor I are more important. Instead of ignoring others or wallowing in misplaced asceticism, the Lord would have us moderate, seeking our individual salvation in the company of others.
When we are surrounded by people we love, we are in heaven, for we are exalted by the bonds between us which in turn both stretch and mold us. When we are alone, or when we are alienated from those around us, then we are in hell, an isolation so complete that we shrivel up into our own nothingness.
That's why the Priesthood can only be used to bless another. Joseph Smith couldn't baptize himself; he needed Oliver Cowdery. I cannot bless myself, I can't even give myself the sacrament--instead, I need others as they need me, and together we can advance as a company on our lifelong migration toward God.
A wealthy man walked down a squalid alley, approaching four men and women huddled around a trash can fire. All four were poor and sick, some had handicaps, and all had large amounts of debt they owed to merciless creditors. They were at the point of despair.
Upon greeting them, the wealthy man announced that he would like to lift them each out of poverty by granting them-free of charge-a substantial gift.
"How much is this gift?" one of the poor asked.
"Seven hundred billion dollars each" the benefactor replied.
"I can't carry that much money" another of the poor exclaimed, "and you can't either. You obviously don't have it with you." The benefactor explained that he would write each of them a check. Because the check was so large, he went on, it could only be cashed at a bank far away. The benefactor added that the recipients would have to walk across rugged winter terrain to get there, but that he himself would accompany and help them. During the journey, he would give them lessons on how to use the money-how to save, invest, make it grow, and how to live so they would not further indebt themselves.
"No thank you" the first poverty-stricken soul said, laughing bitterly. "You don't have the money, and even if you did you'd just be stringing us along. And even if you did give us the money, then we could only use it like you want us to. No thank you."
The other three agreed, however, so the benefactor wrote three checks and they started to make their way up the dingy, steep streets. At first, they were all cheerful, even as they slipped and fell in the drifts. Their benefactor was always there, helping them up, talking about how they should manage their soon-to-be fortunes.
As the minutes grew into hours, though, the recipients started to tire. They realized that the benefactor had never told them how long they would have to walk. One of the recipients asked the benefactor: "How much farther is the bank?" The benefactor would only respond, "Soon enough."
After several more hours of this, the recipient who had asked how long, decided she had had enough. "Maybe I'm not ready for this journey just yet. I have all my life to make it--I have the check in my pocket, and I know what general direction the benefactor is going. I'll be fine if I stay behind for a little while and then catch up. Besides, what sort of benefactor is he if he will only give the gift in one way?"
The benefactor quietly said, "It doesn't work like that. You think you know what direction I'm going, but without me by your side you won't have the ability to even know what direction it is. Gradually, you'll misplace your direction and end up on strange paths." But the recipient was not to be persuaded, and she fell behind.
The hours continued, and the city gradually melted into quieter suburbs. One of the remaining recipients got more and more disquieted by their direction, asking "I thought the bank was supposed to be in the city."
"I never said that," responded the benefactor. "The bank is far away from the city, and after you get your fortune you will have little to do with that city anymore."
"But I love the city!" the recipient protested. "It has brought you nothing but grief," the benefactor explained. "Your love of the city gave you addictions, disease, and the inability to work or save. In order to further your education, you will have to forsake the city and live in a far green country."
The recipient didn't like the sound of that at all. He was thoroughly urbanized, and in his youth he had enjoyed what little of the night life he had been able to afford. He wouldn't get the sort of parties he was accustomed to out there, he was sure of it. He fell behind.
The final recipient had been the quietest of them all. Still limping badly from her lame leg, and coughing violently, she kept on plodding along with the benefactor. She fell many times, and each time, she let the benefactor lift her up. She had been the slowest of them all, and even when she was crawling along her benefactor kept up, sometimes saying a word or two of comfort or encouragement, sometimes remaining silent.
As time went on, the benefactor started to help less and less, and started to lecture more and more, giving her lesson after lesson about money management. Most of the time, he was actually reciting the same things over and over again, until the recipient could recite them by memory. Sometimes, he would strike a new topic that fascinated her.
As the hours turned into days, and the days into weeks, the benefactor finally asked the recipient, "Have we gone far enough?" The recipient was startled. "I thought I was following you." "You were, and are following me-if you had been walking your own paths you never would have made it here. What I'm asking is why you are continuing?"
The recipient thought for a moment. "This is what I do now. You've given me more than just a check I can't cash right now--you've given me purpose, direction,and companionship. Most of all, you've given me a goal that doesn't move."
"That is right" the benefactor said, smiling. "Soon enough you will achieve your goal and deposit the check. By then you will have mastered the principles I am teaching you now. Even after you arrive, however, I will continue to teach you until you are as rich as I am."
Thus is our redemption. Our works do not create salvation; instead, our works accept salvation. By repenting and calling on God in the name of the Son, we are taking a journey with Him, learning from Him what He would have us do with our eternal lives and exaltation. I pray that we may humble ourselves and make that journey with patience.
It's the small things that count. Big things can get forgotten or explained away, but if someone does small, loving things for you every day you know they love you. Like how my 8.5 month pregnant wife insists on taking a turn with a kid who won't sleep, or how she works and works and works at home even when it would be incredibly easy to just play with the kids and slack off just a little.
Like God. The big things that He does for us do come, but sometimes we can forget or explain them away with doubt and fear. It's the little things, though, that truly prove His love for us.
Because these loving-kindnesses are small, though, they aren't obvious. We have to look for and concentrate on them for us to truly understand how extensive they are. Like newly seeing the beauty of a familiar landscape, looking for the Lord's loving kindnesses can make us see the world with new eyes. We can look at a calm morning, a job well done, or a pleasant experience and see so much of the Lord's handiwork undergirding it that the only course of action I can see is to thank the Lord for all the small things, for the myriad ways He loves and blesses us.
