Study of 1 Nephi 3: The sin of Despair

Reading through this chapter, it struck me (rather uncomfortably) at how familiar some of Laman and Lemuel's behavior is.  It seems to me that they aren't out and out villains: rather, they're lukewarm Saints, whose failings may be very similar to some of our own.  Consider that in this chapter alone, Laman and Lemuel are both persuaded to go to the effort to go back to Jerusalem.  Laman went alone to Laban to ask for the plates.  Furthermore, both Laman and Lemuel are persuaded to trade everything they own for the plates.  Had that one transaction been successful, they would have still been impoverished.

Think about that for a moment.  Laman and Lemuel were consciously cutting off their last ties with Jerusalem.  They didn't have their father there, they had already tried to get the plates.  By attempting to purchase the plates with the family fortune, they were literally giving what they thought was their all to the work.  It was a hard thing they had been commanded to do (Lehi didn't object to that part) and they were willing to trade treasures and riches in order to do it.  What caused them to backslide?  What caused them to betray the angelic visitation they had seen?

In a word, despair.  The medieval theologians referred to one of the deadly sins as "ascedia," something that is sometimes translated as sloth, but can also be translated as despair.  This spiritual malady is derived from a lack or misplacement of faith.  When Laman returned empty handed from his first attempt, all of the brothers, Nephi included, were "exceedingly sorrowful."   For Nephi, that failure didn't affect his motivation.  For Laman and Lemuel, it made them want to return to their family camped in the desert.  Note that they didn't try to resume their lives in Jerusalem.

Nephi, however, convinced his older brothers to trade all of their gold and valuables for this one set of the scriptures.  They agreed, and helped haul all of the stuff to Laban's.  They had to know that if Laban had agreed to the deal, that they would never again be able to live in Jerusalem.

Laban, of course, reneged on the deal and stole all of their treasures, perhaps teaching Nephi and his brothers (if they were wise) to not trust in treasure and mammon to do the Lord's work.  The brothers fled, and hid in a cave.

What happened next is a very human and natural failing: Laban and Lemuel despaired.  They were without their treasure (that was going to happen anyway) but now they had nothing to show for it.  They assumed that because things didn't appear to be going their way, that the Lord wasn't going to be with them.  They were faithless in the face of adversity, willing perhaps to give their "all" in the light of day and when things made sense.  Real faith, however, is willing to give our all in the dark of night and when things don't make a lot of sense.

In reality, Laban's sudden windfall caused him to celebrate, and drove him into the drunken stupor that killed him.  Those treasures caused his downfall (lesson, anyone?), though Laman and Lemuel couldn't see that.

How often do we despair?  How often is our faith tied to our perceived success?  We can't see all of the Lord's handiwork; how often does our effort seem to depend on how much we see the Lord do?

Laman and Lemuel had cold-blooded faith.  When things were warm and favorable (like hearing a powerful sermon, for example) they could be convinced to follow the Lord.  When things went badly, they spiraled down into selfishness and faithlessness.  Let us remain warm-blooded, and have our testimonies kindle our success, rather than the other way around.

Gloria!

Today's a rainy day.  I'm tempted to think that it's gloomy, and that I'd rather just waste my time on Facebook reading (very) mildly entertaining articles.  Also, that I'm hungry and have run out of ideas for this blog.

But then I thought about each raindrop that is falling from the sky.  Each drop is a collection of water molecules that have likely circled the globe (or at least a wide swath of North America and the Atlantic).  Each drop can nourish plant life or us; each drop, if frozen, can dazzle with beauty and symmetry.  Each drop is a gift from God.

He makes the rain fall so that the environment which surrounds us is the most conducive one for the benefit for our souls.  He is giving me now hundreds of thousands of tiny gift-wrapped parcels of H20 in order to create and maintain this physical space which, in turn, allows me to become a better person.

Each drop is wisely placed, in both time and location.  Each drop is carefully measured, and given with the most profound care.

So also for everything else.  The air we breathe, the food we eat, even the electrical impulses which course through our synapses, are all gifts from above.  Our luxuries, our trials, our leisure, our work; all come from Him.

Even our own efforts are marbled with His gifts.  I can type a blog post, but how much of that is really mine?  God gave me the Internet, this laptop, fingers, a working nervous system, a rudimentary amount of intelligence, the training to become literate, and a little bit of experience in writing.  He also gave me a commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy, and time on that Sabbath to think and to write.  Really, what do I own of this?

The only things that AREN'T a gift, the only things that we can claim as purely our own are our own choices.  And that agency, that ability to choose our path, was also once a gift.

So let's choose wisely.  Let's look for the beauty and the blessings of a gloomy afternoon.  Let's see what God would have us see rather than be content with the inane ramblings of Babble-on.  Most of all, let's praise God, not just in word and in song, but in our hearts.  Because he's giving us hundreds of thousands of presents right now, even if it doesn't seem like it.

But I'm angry!!!

Yesterday evening I had the...pleasure...of working with an inmate who was being disruptive.  He had been promised the opportunity to work, but circumstances made it such that he couldn't.  He was told he wouldn't be able to, but that he could work the next day.

The inmate got angry.  More angry, in fact, than any rational person ever needs to be.  When the chips settled, he was in paper clothing, sitting on a concrete bunk, with hard restraints on his hands, feet, and around his waist.  I accompanied the lieutenant as he spoke with the inmate, trying to convince the inmate to just settle down so they could take off the restraints.

What the inmate said was troubling and may reflect some of the opinions we hold here on the outside.  Over and over again, the inmate repeated, "I was angry," as if that explained and even excused his aggression against staff and other inmates.  It seemed to me that the inmate believed that he had been required to act on his anger by engaging in highly disruptive behavior.

Do we believe that our emotions require action?  The vast majority of us won't end up in prison, nor will we do the things inmates do.  But do we also do self-destructive things simply because we are angry, confused, lonely, or upset?  Do we allow hunger, thirst, lust, fear, or even boredom to dictate our actions?

I believe that the main purpose of mortality is the have us learn to experience, and to master, these impulses.  They are given to us by God, so they are important, and we have much to learn from them.  But we must learn from them, and not be directed by them.  Instead, we are directed by reason and by faith.

When our Lord and Savior was on the earth, he lived a normal life perfectly.  It was filled with fear, hunger, thirst, and even despair ("My god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me?")  He felt all things we feel, and yet He had the goodness to do the right regardless of what mortal impulses were yelling at him to do.

He is our Exemplar.  When we have a trial we do not want to face, a hunger that must be sated NOW, regardless of consequences, when we are tired and don't want to bother with the next difficult thing the Lord would have us do, we should remember His example.  His willingness to master Himself saved us all, and now He gives us the chance to do so ourselves.

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.