A humble man to save the worst men

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.

Faith in adversity

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?

Imperfections and distractions

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.

 

Faith is evidence

"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.

When we serve, we serve people

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!

Life Rafts

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.

Walking with Jesus

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.