A Reason For Hope

I've Moved To a New Blog!

2011-04-18T18:17:00.001-07:00

Hello, Friends!

I've had a wonderful time blogging these past few years. And this blog has been good to me. At this point, though, I'm afraid I've outgrown it. This blog, that is, not blogging in general.

I've created a beautiful, shiny, brand-new blog, with a little help from my favorite web designer. I even managed to export all my old posts over to the new blog--indexed and fully searchable.

Please, go on over there and check it out! And if you're a blog follower, or you have a link to my blog in your sideblog, livefeed, or RSS reader, please update your links. The new address is:

http://toeveryonethatbelieveth.blogspot.com/

While you're over there, check out some of the great new features. Tabs along the top of the page will take you to different topical areas. There's a great video that a friend and I made about Passover and the Last Supper, along with a Hagaddah booklet and instructions for holding your own Passover Seder. There's a section with essays on Holy Week, from Palm Sunday to Resurrection Morning. And there's a compendium of all my essays from my time in Jerusalem. I plan to put up many more things, including book reviews and guest posts, and maybe even a few lesson plans, as soon as I can talk someone into doing the web design for me.

From now on, all my new posts will go on my new blog, which I've called "To Everyone That Believeth," a nod to Paul's statement in his epistle to the Romans, "For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth." I, like Paul, believe that the gospel of Christ really is the power of God unto salvation, and that God embraces all who believe in Him and seek to do His will.

Happy Holy Week, everyone!

The Stones Cry Out: Hosanna in the Highest!

2011-04-16T19:44:00.000-07:00

The scene was enough to interest the rest of the city's inhabitants, whose numbers had swelled tremendously in anticipation of the Passover, which would be celebrated in just a few days. Newcomers wanted an explanation, and Matthew records that "all the city was moved, saying, Who is this? And the multitude said, This is Jesus the prophet of Nazareth of Galilee" (Matthew 21:10-11). The disciples were not shy about proclaiming the greatness of their Master, as Luke records, "the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen" (Luke 19:37).

All this adoration bothered the Pharisees immensely, as Luke records: "And some of the Pharisees from among the multitude said unto him, Master, rebuke thy disciples" (Luke 19:39). But despite their plots against His life, and the harm He knew would come from so much publicity, the Savior refused to rebuke those who acknowledged the truth: that He who then descended the Mount of Olives was about to descend below all things, to rise above all things, that He might be in and through all things, the light of truth (Doc. & Cov. 88:6). He was and is the "light [that] shineth in darkness; and thedarkness comprehended it not" (John 1:5). And though that week did not end as the disciples then expected, by the end of it they knew even more powerfully that Christ was the Lord, "for they shall not be ashamed that wait for me" (Isaiah 49:23).

Instead, Jesus rebuked the Pharisees, and testified that He was the promised Messiah: "And he answered and said unto them...if these [disciples] should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out" (Luke 19:40).

I feel driven to echo the testimony of these disciples, and to speak for the mute stones that would cry out if I were silent. Like the disciples, I praise the Lord for the mighty works that I have seen. Like them, I cry Hosanna!--Oh, save me! My heart shouts praises to the Holy One of Israel. I praise Him for His light, which pierces the darkness of my heart. I praise Him for His healing power and mercy. I praise Him because He weeps, and because He laughs, because He smiles and sings and loves and teaches and heals me and the whole world. I praise Him because He died and because He lives. I love Him. I have given my life to His service.

Blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

2011-03-10T16:41:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the first day of the liturgical season of Lent. Lent is a season of penitence, reflection, and preparation for the week of Christ's Passion. In many traditions, disciples "give up" something for the duration of Lent, as an exercise in self-control and in fulfillment of Christ's admonition to "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there shall your heart be also" (Matt. 6:19-21).

Last evening I attended a lovely service at a Presbyterian church in the area. At the conclusion of the service, we were invited to come forward and receive a blessing and the imposition of ashes. It was a beautiful and humbling experience to be reminded of my own mortality, my own fallen nature and need for a Redeemer. As the priest gently drew an ashen cross on my forehead, she called me by name and quietly intoned, ‎"One day through Christ we may live eternally with God. But in this sphere we are mortal, and must remember that we came from dust, and to dust we shall return. We are made from ashes, and ashes are all that will remain." Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. The life cycle of mortals continues. The eternal soul lives on.
After the service, I went to a meeting with friends. It was interesting to me to watch people's puzzled double-takes when they saw my appearance. I watched as their eyes darted to my forehead, quizzical, then to my eyes as they attempted to ignore it, then distractedly back to the black smudge above them, their lips twisted in a bemused smile. It was hard to see past the ashes. Conversation was awkward initially. The ashes came between us all evening.

Now, I don't fault my friends at all--outside of chimney sweeps and coal miners, ashes aren't a typical adornment to faces. But it made me think about how we treat others who walk around in this world with ashes on their foreheads--with something we see that makes them strange or fallen or dirty. Kristine wrote a beautiful essay at By Common Consent about feeling "marked" living as a divorced woman in the church. Divorce is certainly one thing that can make us feel unworthy or broken--and I bet you can think of several other circumstances that might cause you to recoil from the company of another--or that have caused others to recoil from yours.

Sometimes it can be hard to see past the ashes on the foreheads of those around us. It's so easy to see the brokenness and fallen-ness of our fellow mortals, so easy to forget that we, too, are fallen, that we, too, are broken, that we, too, sin. It has changed the way I view others as I have come to understand that Christ's Atonement is enough for my sins--and that it also applies to everyone else around me, that Christ's grace is sufficient for me, AND that it is sufficient for everyone else, that I don't have any business judging others, because they are saved by the very same power that saves me, healed by the very same Lord who heals me, and redeemed by the very same atoning sacrifice that I rely on to redeem me. But when I fall victim to that all-too-common tendency to judge others, to see in the faces of my fellow men only the ashes, and not the glorious immortal beings of eternal potential behind the ashes, it humbles me to realize that I, too, am but ashes and dust, but that the Lord sees past all that, and invites me to "awake, and arise from the dust" and "by the grace of God...become holy, without spot" (Moroni 10: 31,33).

This Lenten season, I'm going to work on extending that same grace to others. I'm going to try harder, in my interactions with others, to see past their failings to their great potential, past their mortality to the glorious fact of our mutual redemption, past the ashes to the spark of divinity within.

Lord, How Is It Done?

2011-02-27T19:10:00.000-08:00

I was asked to speak in my ward today on the topic of exaltation. Big topic, I know. This is the talk I gave. It was fairly well received, I think. The best comment I got was from a friend who asked me, "What business does an engineer like you have using a word like 'soteriology?'" I just laughed. Enjoy.

Good afternoon, brothers and sisters. I take as my text today a statement of Enos, who spent the whole night in prayer to God for the remission of his sins. Somtime during the night, he tells us, “And there came a voice unto me, saying: Enos, thy sins are forgiven thee, and thou shalt be blessed. And I, Enos, knew that God could not lie; wherefore, my guilt was swept away. And I said: Lord, how is it done?” (Enos 1:5-7).

That’s the question I’d like to try to answer today. When we’re talking about redemption, about salvation and exaltation, “Lord, how is it done?” It’s a central question to all religions, what scholars call “soteriology”--what does salvation consist of, and how is it accomplished?

I’d like to argue that there are three conditions necessary for salvation and exaltation: First, we must have a divine potential. Second, those who are saved must be obedient to God’s laws and enter into a covenant relationship with Him. And third, we need the enabling, saving, and exalting power of Christ’s atoning grace.

I’d like to elaborate on each of these in more detail.
1. Divine potential (theosis)
First, in order for exaltation to be a possibility, we must each have a divine potential--that is, there must be something in us able to be exalted.. Mormon theology is very vocal in affirming that we are spirit children of God, with the potential to become like Him. This doctrine of theosis--of divinization--of man-becoming-like-God, is a strange one to those of other faiths--but it gives us hope. The idea that, as Paul says, “we are the children of God. If children, then heirs, heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ” gives us something to strive for, gives us a limitless view of our possibilities. (Romans 8) The Christian theologian C.S. Lewis wrote,

“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship...There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal...Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbour is the holiest object presented to your senses...for in him also Christ...Glory Himself, is truly hidden.”

When we understand our divine origin and divine potential, it changes the way we act towards others and towards God. John said, “Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the [children] of God...Beloved, now are we the [children] of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is. And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is pure” (1 John 3:1-3).

When we have hope that we are the children of God and can become like Him, it leads us to Godly living, to purify ourselves as God is pure.

This leads us to the second condition necessary for exaltation--Godly living, faith, repentance, obedience, and entering into a covenant relationship with God.

2. Faith, repentance, and obedience to covenants

The Prophet Joseph wrote, “There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated.” (D&C 130:20-21) If this is true for everyday laws--for instance, if keeping the word of wisdom allows us to run and not be weary, and walk and not faint, and if paying tithes and offerings opens the windows of heaven to us, then surely the bigger things like exaltation are also predicated upon keeping God’s laws.

Obedience isn’t the end of our obligation, though. We also need to make and keep covenants with God.

In the sacrament we just participated in, we each renewed a covenant we made to take upon ourselves the name of Christ, to be called His people. This covenant relationship with God requires certain actions on our part--mourning with our brothers and sisters, comforting the afflicted, visiting the sick and the widowed and the fatherless--being God’s hands in doing his work.

The establishment of this covenant relationship demonstrates our obedience to God, but it also increases our desire to obey the Lord in anything He will command in the future. It means that our dedication to the Lord is not temporary or for as long as it is convenient, but that we are ready, as was Peter, to go with our Savior “both into prison, and to death” (Luke 22:33).

C.S. Lewis said, ‎"The work of devils and of darkness is never more certain to be defeated than when men and women, not finding it easy or pleasant but still determined to do the Father's will, look out upon their lives from which it may seem every trace of God has vanished, and asking why they have been so forsaken, still bow their heads and obey."

The Lord said of His covenant people, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.” By making and keeping covenants we become Christ’s “sheep,” we become His people--He comes to know us, and we come to know Him. We hear His voice and learn to follow it.

Our personal righteousness, covenant-making and covenant-keeping, are necessary, but not sufficient, conditions of exaltation.

Or, in Abindai’s words, “Salvation doth not come by the law alone; and were it not for the atonement, which God himself shall make for the sins and iniquities of his people...they must unavoidably perish, notwithstanding the law” (Mosiah 13:28).

This leads us to the third, and most important, condition of exaltation: the mercy, grace, and love of God as manifest in the Atonement of Christ.

3. Christ’s grace, mercy, and love

Mormons have historically been uncomfortable with the concept of grace. Maybe that’s because it sounds too Baptist to us, or perhaps it’s because we would prefer to emphasize the more concrete concepts--all the things we need to do, and not do, in order to be good enough to return back to God.

But the scriptures repeatedly testify that while our works are necessary, we can never be good enough to deserve exaltation. You can never do enough home teaching, you can never deliver enough casseroles, you can never go to the temple enough or read the scriptures enough or turn down enough alcoholic beverages to be good enough to merit God’s presence. Or, as King Benjamin would say, “if ye should serve [God] with all your whole souls yet ye would be unprofitable servants” (Mosiah 2:21).

Well, that sounds depressing. But it turns out that that’s okay. Because ultimately we’re not saved by our works. We don’t work our way to heaven. Christ was the only one who managed to work His way to heaven, and I promise you’re not going to be the second. We are saved, not on our own merits, but on the “merits and mercy and grace of the Holy Messiah, who layeth down his life according to the flesh” (2 Nephi 2:8).

Paul put it simply, “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God. Not of works, lest any man should boast” (Ephesians 2:8-9). Eternal life is “the greatest of all the gifts of God,” and it is a gift, not a salary. If we are exalted, it will be because of Christ, not because of us.

Now by this point, some of you are probably thinking, “Hey, wait a minute!” and quoting the other half of the couplet we like to use when we talk about grace, Nephi’s statement that “by grace we are saved after all we can do” (2 Nephi 25:23).

It’s an intruiging statement. In context, Nephi says, “For we labor diligently to write, to persuade our children, and also our brethren, to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God; for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do. And, notwithstanding we believe in Christ, we keep the law...and look forward with steadfastness unto Christ...wherefore the law hath become dead unto us, and we are made alive in Christ because of our faith.” (2 Nephi 25:23-25). It’s clear his emphasis is on salvation through the grace of Christ, irrespective of the law, which he says is “dead.”

But we’re still left with an interesting problem. That couplet hasn’t fully been explained. “By grace we are saved after all we can do.” What does he mean, “after all we can do?”

Well, let’s rule out some things he doesn’t mean. He doesn’t mean “after we keep every commandment perfectly, after we do all that is possible for us to do, then grace will save us,” because if he meant that, none of us would qualify--there is no one in this room who has ever done “all they could do,” who has ever kept the commandments perfectly, who has NOT “sinned, and fallen short of the glory of God.”

OK, so if “after all we can do” doesn’t mean that, what does it mean?
Anti-Nephi-Lehi, the king of the pacifist converted Lamanites, gave us some insight into that phrase. He spoke to his people, uring them not to go to war, “And I also thank my God, yea, my great God, that he hath granted unto us that we might repent of these things, and also that he hath forgiven us of those our many sins and murders which we have committed, and taken away the guilt from our hearts, through the merits of his Son.

“And now behold, my brethren...it has been all that we could do...to repent of all our sins and the many murders which we have committed, and to get God to take them away from our hearts, for it was all we could do to repent sufficiently before God that he would take away our stain” (Alma 24:10-12).

“All we can do,” it seems, involves repenting of our sins and allowing God to take them away from our hearts. “All we can do” is to repent sufficiently before God that he will take away our stain. And when we have done “all we can do,” the grace of Christ saves us, according to what Moroni calls “the covenant of the Father unto the remission of your sins.” And that, brothers and sisters, is a covenant that cannot be broken.

In order to meet the conditions of that covenant, we have to repent. And in order to repent, we have to be humble, to recognize our fallen nature and our need for an atonement. It’s a very human tendency, among Christians who are trying to live good lives, to think, “Of course we all need the Atonement, I just need it a little less than most, thank you very much. I’m doing pretty well on my own.” But in order to repent we have to have the attitude of King Benjamin’s people, who “viewed themselves in their own carnal state, even less than the dust of the earth. And they all cried aloud with one voice, saying: O have mercy, and apply the atoning blood of Christ that we may receive forgiveness of our sins, and our hearts may be purified; for we believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (Mosiah 4:2). Only when they were humble and recognized their need for an Atonement did the “mighty change of heart,” joy, and “peace of conscience” come.

******
So now let’s recap. We’ve talked briefly about each of the three conditions for exaltation--Divine Potential, Obedience and Covenant Relationships with God, and the Atonement and Grace of Jesus Christ. Moroni wraps all these conditions into a few short verses in his last charge to us: he takes for granted that we are perfect-able beings, with divine potential, and that we can be saved and exalted by obedience, repentance, and relying on the grace and mercy of Christ. He says: “come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness; and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ; and if by the grace of God ye are perfect in Christ, ye can in nowise deny the power of God. And again, if ye by the grace of God are perfect in Christ, and deny not his power, then are ye sanctified in Christ by the grace of God, through the shedding of the blood of Christ, which is in the covenant of the Father unto the remission of your sins, that ye become holy, without spot" (Moroni 10:32-33).

Brothers and sisters, I add my witness to Moroni’s that when we repent, deny ourselves of all ungodliness and love God with everything that we have, then His grace is sufficient for us, and we can be exalted, that we can become holy, without spot, because we will be perfect-in-Christ. I bear testimony that we can come boldly before the throne of grace, and receive the promise that Enos received when the Lord told him, “thy sins are forgiven thee.”

I have felt his reassuring promise and have known, like Enos, that God could not lie. I have tasted the beautiful peace and wholeness that comes from Christ's Atonement. When I felt that same "peace of God, which passeth all understanding" (Philippians 4:7), I have been led to say with Enos, "Lord, how is it done? How is it possible that I could feel this wonderful, this complete, this joyous? How can You take pain away so completely and replace it with such exquisite joy?" And the answer, as was the Lord's answer to Enos, is simply, "Because of thy faith in Christ... wherefore, go to, thy faith hath made thee whole."

I bear witness that through the Savior’s Atonement we can be forgiven of our sins, and can be exalted, becoming “holy, without spot.” I testify that the Atonement has the power to heal, because it has healed me, and I do so in the name of my Savior Jesus Christ, Amen.

From The Archives: Tell Me Why These Things Are So

2011-01-23T19:15:00.001-08:00

A discussion of Job in Relief Society today prompted me to dig up this old essay and re-post it. This essay, with a few edits, was written in February of last year.

We have the same tendency in other areas of our lives--we want life to make sense. We want events to fit into nice little boxes with the proper "Cause" and "Effect" on the labels. We want to understand our world's many complexities. Maybe then we can have more control over our lives. Maybe understanding all the reasons would help us feel less like our lives are meaningless conglomerations of random chance. Maybe we would feel less powerless in the face of history's fateful unfolding.

When a child dies or a plane crashes, when we're diagnosed with a debilitating illness or suffer a devastating blow, our anguished cries to the heavens often begin with, "Why?"

Why? Why me? Why this? Why now? Why, God, why?

I've noticed that God doesn't seem particularly interested in answering my "Why?" questions. A quick poll of some close friends indicates it's not just me. And when I turned to the scriptures, I realized that it's a long-standing habit of God's.

When God showed Moses a vision of the world, Moses' question was also, "Why?", and it went unanswered. "And it came to pass that Moses called upon God, saying: Tell me, I pray thee, why these things are so?...And the Lord God said unto Moses: For mine own purpose have I made these things. Here is wisdom and it remaineth in me" (Moses 1:30-31). To paraphrase, God was saying, "I created the world for my own reasons, and I'm not inclined to share them with you just yet."

Isaiah quoted the Lord, who told His people, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways...For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts" (Isaiah 55:8-9). He doesn't think the way we think, and doesn't feel bound to explain his thought processes to us.

The book of Job records the story of a man who "was perfect and upright, and one that feared God, and eschewed evil" (Job 1:1). Cursed with the loss of all his earthly possessions, his children, his health, and finally, the loyalty of his friends, Job pleaded with God for answers, demanding an explanation for his suffering. Certain of his righteousness, and sure that his punishment was undeserved, Job used legal language in his fierce insistence on an explanation, wishing "that we might confront each other in court. If only there were someone to arbitrate between us...I will say to God: Do not condemn me, but tell me what charges you have against me" (Job 9:32-33,10:2, NIV). Job noted the unfairness of his treatment, citing examples of wicked men who live in peace and wealth, undisturbed by the God they mock, while Job, who kept the law with exactness, was left with a life in shambles, rejected by his community and bereft of his children and all his property. He pleaded for understanding, for the Lord to point out his sin, asking the Lord, when he could find no answer within himself, "Why?"

"Summon me and I will answer, or let me speak, and you reply. How many wrongs and sins have I committed? Show me my offense and my sin. Why do you hide your face and consider me your enemy?" (13:18-25) "If only I knew where to find him; if only I could go to his dwelling! I would state my case before him and fill my mouth with arguments. I would find out what he would answer me, and consider what he would say" (23:3-5). "Oh, that I had someone to hear me! I sign now my defense—let the Almighty answer me; let my accuser put his indictment in writing" (31:35).

For thirty-six chapters of the book of Job, Job's friends rebuked him for his supposed sins, and Job defended himself against their accusations and bemoaned his fate. And through it all, Job searched for an explanation, declaring each law he had kept, each commandment unbroken, repeatedly asking the Lord why he had been punished, while all around him the wicked prospered--Why, God? Why this? Why now? Why me?

I read his story again not too long ago, and found myself rooting for Job. Even though my mind knew that Job's trials were the Lord's way of testing his faithfulness, I still found myself sympathizing with his pleas--Why, God? Why do the wicked prosper while the righteous mourn? Why all the suffering in the lives of the innocent? Why have you structured the world this way? Why do my prayers go unanswered, my petitions unheeded? Why did you heal the centurion's son but not my loved one?

I found myself straining for the answer. Surely, God would answer Job, the "perfect and upright" man? And perhaps, in that answer, I could find some modicum of peace in the painful confusion of my own world.

In the last chapters of the book of Job, God spoke to Job "out of the whirlwind" (38:1), saying, "Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone... Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth...when I said, 'This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt'?

"Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place... Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep?... Have you seen the gates of the shadow of death? Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth? Tell me, if you know all this.

The Lord went on, speaking of His omniscience, which stood in stark contrast to Job's feeble mortal understanding: "Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail?...What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed, or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth? Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain, and a path for the thunderstorm?...Can you bind the beautiful Pleiades? Can you loose the cords of Orion?... Do you know the laws of the heavens? Can you set up God's dominion over the earth?... Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, 'Here we are'?

"Who endowed the heart with wisdom or gave understanding to the mind?" (Job 38:23-36).

Throughout the rest of His discourse, the Lord listed many natural phenomena, asking Job if he could explain or control the forces of nature, the animals, the planets, and the stars. The Lord's demonstration of power is impressive, and in the end, Job repented of his folly, and recommitted himself to serve the Lord. The Lord chastised Job's friends, who had condemned him, and declared that Job had been righteous, an affirmation that must have been reassuring to a man condemned by his brethren. The story ends with Job living "happily ever after," when "the Lord gave Job twice as much as he had before" (Job 42:10).

And yet...

And yet, most strikingly, the Lord never answered Job's question. In the end, all that Job had and more was restored to him, but Job never got to know the Lord's reasons for inflicting his punishment. Job's wife bore more children, but God never told Job why his other children had to die.

The Lord never answered Job's plea for understanding, and Job and his audience are still left wondering, "Why?"

It's a singularly unsatisfying conclusion to the account of a righteous man with a profound, heartfelt, plea. And yet it's instructive for all of us, when our prayers go unanswered. We can know, when the heavens are silent, that we are in good company.

Christ, on the cross, marveled that His Father would leave Him alone during His time of greatest need, that the God He had served would abandon His Only Begotten Son to die a shameful death in utter loneliness. His last plea on the cross was a cry for an explanation--"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34). Why, God, why?

But at that anguished cry, the heavens again were silent, and the Son of God, the Creator and Redeemer of worlds without end, died without an answer.

And yet we continue to ask. Why should we expect what our Lord went without? "The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?" (Doc. & Cov. 122:8). Do we think ourselves greater than the Master we serve?

So why doesn't the Lord answer our "why?" questions? That's a bit of a circular inquiry, to be sure, since it is also a "why?" question. But let me take a crack at it anyway.

A friend suggested to me a reason, and as I’ve thought it over, I’ve recognized the merit in his idea. He observed that if every part of life made perfect sense, if we could see the end from the beginning, if we could have a perfect understanding of the Lord's purposes in shaping us as He does, it would eliminate the need for us to exercise faith in Him. It would be too simple. We would already see the wisdom in the Lord's plan, and the only rational thing to do would be to submit willingly, with a perfect knowledge of the outcome. Faith would be lost, and spiritual growth would go with it. In the words of Alma, "there are many who do say: If thou wilt show unto us a sign from heaven, then we shall know of a surety; then we shall believe. Now I ask, is this faith? Behold, I say unto you, Nay; for if a man knoweth a thing he hath no cause to believe, for he knoweth it" (Alma 32:17-18).

The Lord denies us this knowledge so that we have the chance to rely on Him in faith, a chance only available to us if our "why?" questions are left unanswered, for "faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true" (Alma 32:21).

When we walk by faith, and not by sight, the emptiness of soul we experience when a perfect knowledge is denied us is filled by a “perfect brightness of hope,” which leads to “a love of God and of all men” (2 Nephi 31:20). This hope “groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day” (Doc. & Cov. 50:24), a day when we will see the things we have hoped for, and rejoice in the knowledge that comes, not as a sign to convince us, but as a reward for our patience and a natural consequence of our faith. In that day, “God shall wipe away tears from off all faces” (Isaiah 25:8), and we will kneel before the Lord and, with perfect understanding, acknowledge that His judgments and His purposes are just, that His plan was perfect and His love complete.

Until that day, let’s trust Him. Let us go forward in faith, with confidence in the Lord’s plan for each of us, trusting in “the word of Christ with unshaken faith in him, relying wholly upon the merits of him who is mightyto save” (2 Nephi 31:19). As we do so, our power will increase and we will come to know the Savior for ourselves, "that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope; that we may be purified even as he is pure" (Moroni 7:48).

Picture from http://www.bc.edu/bc_org

From The Realms of Glory

2010-12-24T19:47:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite Christmas hymns is entitled "Angels From the Realms of Glory," and tells the story of how groups of people throughout the ages would look to the birth of Christ as the singular event in human history, and would see the Christ child as more deserving of their worship than anything else. It speaks of angels, shepherds, sages, saints, and sinners, who would leave all that they had, to come to the Savior and kneel at His feet, to praise Him and love Him and acknowledge His majesty and be healed by His mercy and love.

Angels from the realms of glory,
Wing your flight o’er all the earth;
Ye who sang creation’s story
Now proclaim Messiah’s birth.

Shepherds, in the field abiding,
Watching o’er your flocks by night,
God with us is now residing;
Yonder shines the infant light:

Sages, leave your contemplations,
Brighter visions beam afar;
Seek the great Desire of nations;
Ye have seen His natal star.

Saints, before the altar bending,
Watching long in hope and fear;
Suddenly the Lord, descending,
In His temple shall appear.

Sinners, wrung with true repentance,
Doomed for guilt to endless pains,
Justice now revokes the sentence,
Mercy calls you; break your chains.

Though an Infant now we view Him,
He shall fill His Father’s throne,
Gather all the nations to Him;
Every knee shall then bow down.

Christmas is a time of rejoicing at the good tidings of great joy delivered to all people by an angel millenia ago. It is a time of singing with the heavenly hosts, proclaiming, "Glory to God in the Highest." It is a time to re-dedicate ourselves to "peace on earth, goodwill to men." It is a time to leave our contemplations, to bend before the altar, to be filled with wondering awe. For the Savior, the Lord of heaven and earth, condescended to be born into the world He had formed, to walk among us as a humble child. He, who is King of kings, and Lord of lords, was born to a young girl and her betrothed, laid in a feeding trough, visited by shepherds, and sought by kings. At Christmas we remember that Christ came to sanctify not only the great houses of worship, not only temples and cathedrals and palaces, but also, and ever, the simple, humble places where the pure in heart dwell. He came to redeem. He came to exalt. He came to heal. He came as Emmanuel--God with us. May God be ever welcome in our homes and in our hearts.

For God with us is now residing--Mercy calls you, break your chains.

Picture from http://cdn.elev8.com/

The Light of the World

2010-12-05T16:15:00.001-08:00

Tonight is the fifth night of Hanukkah. In honor of the holiday, I decided to overcome the writer's block that has dogged me for past several months and just sit down and write about this festival. So here I am, at my kitchen table with my laptop, the room illuminated by the six candles burning low in the silver menorah beside me.

Today in sacrament meeting I bore my testimony about Hanukkah. Pretty unconventional, I know, but iconoclasm isn't something I shy away from. Those of you who know me, or have heard me speak in church, are not at all surprised by this admission, I'm sure. But I digress.

I love celebrating Hanukkah. I light the candles, fry the latkes, spin the dreidel, and sing the songs, and I love it all. I don't do it to be politically correct--that has never been a priority. I do it because it's a religiously meaningful holiday, and because it's a great way to prepare for Christmas, and to feel the Christmas spirit.

Hanukkah, as you probably know, began with the account of a miracle in the 2nd century B.C. A small group of Jewish nationalists, known as the Maccabees, were victorious in battle against the Selucids, who had overrun their temple and sacrificed a pig on the altar. The Selucid king, Antiochus IV, who blasphemously called himself Epiphanes, "God manifest," decreed an end to the Jewish ritual practices, effectively abolishing Judaism. When this Jewish guerilla group re-took the temple and proceeded to re-dedicate it, they found that the casks of specially prepared olive oil for the temple's eternal flame had been smashed, and only a small amount of oil remained, enough for one day's use. As the story goes, the cask of oil burned for a full eight days, enough time to prepare and consecrate more oil and to re-dedicate the temple so that the Jewish people could worship God as He had commanded.

So why do I celebrate Hanukkah, as a Christian? Well, apart from harboring a not-so-secret desire to be Jewish, I find the imagery and symbolism of Hanukkah appealing--moving, even. It's especially appropriate during Advent, the liturgical season that prepares us for Christmas. Hanukkah, after all, is a holiday that celebrates miraculous light--a light that God caused to burn for those who lived in a troubled time, when foes beset them on every hand, when worship of God was a dangerous act, when the world was a scary place. It celebrates a God-given light in a dark world. It is a feast of dedication--then, of the temple; now, of ourselves. It is a season of re-dedication to God, with the promise of a heaven-sent light to illuminate our lives as we worship God, the source of all light.

It was on this occasion that Christ stood in the temple and declared His Messiah-ship, for He is the "light that shineth in darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:5). He is the light of the sun, moon, and stars, for it was by His power that they were made (Doc. & Cov. 88:7-9). "And the light which shineth, which giveth you light, is through him...which light proceedeth forth from God to fill the immensity of space" (v. 11-12).

May the light of the Lord illuminate our lives, our homes, our temples, and our hearts as we worship God in them this season. May we, at this feast of dedication, find renewed desire to follow the Lord, the Man of Miracles, the Light of the World.

Happy Hanukkah!

Picture from http://www.hartman.org.il

And After the Fire a Still Small Voice

2010-07-25T18:13:00.000-07:00

Elijah the Tishbite stood on Mount Horeb, where Moses had stood centuries earlier to receive the tablets of the law from the Lord. Looking out on the dry valley, he reflected on the fate of that law, and of the Lord’s people whose ancestors He had brought out of Egypt to worship at that mountain. They hadn’t gotten any closer to the “kingdom of priests, and an holy nation” that the Lord had wished for their fathers. Elijah spoke to the Lord about his despair, “for the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away” (1 Kings 19:10).

Elijah’s ministry was difficult. Faced with growing idolatry among the people of Israel, brought about by the wicked king Ahab and his Phonecian princess Jezebel, the prophet had sealed the heavens for three years. In an already dry land, he had created a drought, and thus pronounced a national death sentence in hopes of turning the hearts of the people back to their God in humility.

His plan had backfired. Ahab and Jezebel, instead of repenting, had sought his life throughout the land. Forced to flee for his safety, he hid by the brook Cherith, and was fed by ravens sent by God. Eventually, the brook dried up, and the Lord sent Elijah to Zarephath, to the home of a widow woman who had reached the end of her rope, and was about to eat the last of her meager provisions, “an handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse: and, behold,” she said, ”I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it for me and my son, that we may eat it, and die” (1 Kings 17:12). The woman’s faith in feeding the prophet with what little she had was rewarded, and “the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord, which he spake by Elijah” (v.16).

At the end of three years of drought, Elijah had summoned Ahab, and all his priests, together with Jezebel’s priests and all the children of Israel, to Mount Carmel for a contest. He was tired of the people’s ambivalence, tired of seeing them turn from Jehovah to dumb idols, tired of a double-minded people who turned to the Lord only in times of trouble, but enjoyed the rites of Ba’al and Ashtaroth on the side. Elijah proposed a contest--and you know the rest. The sacrifice offered to Ba’al failed to ignite, despite the priests’ long hours of pleading and erratic dancing. Elijah’s sharp, sarcastic words found their mark as the priests failed to effect the required miracle. Then fire from heaven descended upon the water-drenched sacrifice offered to Jehovah, “and consumed the burnt sacrifice, and the wood, and the stones, and the dust, and licked up the water that was in the trench” (1 Kings 18:38). The assembled Israelites recognized the Lord’s power, and declared that He, truly, was God. Elijah, seizing the moment, commanded that all the idolatrous priests should be slain.

The Lord decided to end the drought, without, it seems, consulting Elijah. Rain fell, and the land revived. Jezebel, incensed by the death of her priests, vowed to kill Elijah, and once more he fled, this time to Beersheba. From there, the Lord had sent him to this mountain. There He spoke to Elijah, who had served Him well, but still had much to learn.

First the Lord asked His servant a question. “What doest thou here, Elijah?” Elijah’s recounted his ministry among stubborn and rebellious people, “And he said, I have been very jealous for the Lord God of hosts: for the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away.”

So the Lord taught an object lesson, with a powerful message for Elijah, and for each of us.

“And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake: And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice” (1 Kings 19:9-12).

Did Elijah understand the Lord’s message? It seems that he overlooked the Lord’s meaning, for his answer to the Lord’s question remained unchanged: “when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entering in of the cave. And, behold, there came a voice unto him, and said, What doest thou here, Elijah? And he said, I have been very jealous for the Lord God of hosts: because the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away” (v. 13-14).

Elijah was discouraged. It seems that he didn’t understand the meaning of the still small voice that followed the great natural disasters. But looking back over Elijah’s life and ministry, perhaps we can hear the echoes of that voice. Elijah had shown his fondness, throughout his life, for great and spectacular signs--earthquakes and whirlwinds, droughts, famines, and fire from heaven. But even with these miracles, Elijah had failed to change the heart of the king to whom he was sent. The Lord had passed by Israel, and a great drought dried up the land and killed the crops, the animals, and the poor. But the Lord was not in the drought. And after the drought a famine, but the Lord was not in the famine. And after the famine a contest and fire from heaven. But the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire a cleansing of the idolatrous priests. But the Lord was not in the killing. And after the killing a still, small voice. And there, the Lord was to be found.

The Lord was in the ravens who fed the prophet by a dried-up brook in a barren land as he hid from the searches of the king. The Lord was in the faith of a widow woman who gave charity to the prophet as he wandered in a foreign land. The Lord was in the rain that fell on Mount Carmel to water the land of a still-idolatrous king. The Lord was in the willingness of Elisha the son of Shaphat, who followed Elijah’s call when he found him at the plow (v. 19-21). The Lord was in the still, small voices that stayed faithful even in a wicked society, of which there were “seven thousand in Israel, all the knees which have not bowed unto Baal” (v. 18).

What are seven thousand against so many? What is one prophet against such great idolatry? What is one still, small voice in the midst of the whirlwinds and earthquakes that surround us? If we hear it, that still, small voice can be more powerful than the winds that seek to drive us from our moorings. It can be stronger than the earthquakes that seek to throw us off balance. It can be more cleansing than the fires that sweep through the land. For all these great and showy spectacles end in an instant and persuade only for a moment, but the still small voice speaks throughout them, and continues to speak even after their voices have faded. It speaks while they rage about us, and its words continue long after the winds have died down and the fires have been extinguished. It beckons to us as it beckoned to Elijah on that mountain. It pleads with us to hear the voice and recognize the hand of the Lord in the small gestures, in the things we overlook, in the voices of birds and widows and rain, in the Lord’s mercy rather than His condemnation.

We, like Elijah, will experience winds and earthquakes and fires. But the Lord is with us. For after the fire, there will always come His merciful still, small voice.

Photo from http://cornishevangelist.wordpress.com

The Love Of God

2010-06-22T18:05:00.000-07:00

Hello there, friends! I haven't posted in a month, sorry about that--it has taken some time to get settled into a new state and a new life. My branch president asked me to give a talk in church last Sunday, and I thought I'd post it here. It's long, I know--he wanted me to speak for 20 minutes, though I don't think I took quite that long. Attentive readers will notice that I used a few sentences from previous blog entries. Finally, since I believe in being very prepared but not in reading a talk verbatim, this is only approximately what I said:

Shortly after Nephi and his family left Jerusalem, Nephi saw in vision many events that would occur throughout the earth's history. In speaking about the birth of Jesus Christ, the angel asked Nephi, "Knowest thou the condescension of God?" (1 Nephi 11:16). Nephi's answer was both revealing and inspiring. "I know that [God] loveth his children," he answered, "nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things" (v. 17).

Brothers and sisters, we live in a confused and confusing world. Our lives are filled with uncertainties. Things that happen to us and those we love are hard to understand. At times we wonder where we fit into God's plan. Like Nephi, we do not know the meaning of all things. But of one thing we can be sure--we know that God loves His children.

The Lord demonstrates His love for us in the big things and the small, in the majestic and the mundane. As Alma told Korihor, "all things denote there is a God, yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator" (Alma 30:44). The majesty of mountain ranges and the delicate beauty of a hummingbird in flight teach us that God loves His children enough to care about the details, enough to create a beautiful world for His children to inhabit.

The Lord loves us enough to give us the gospel. He loves us enough to answer our prayers. The Lord gives us commandments to keep us safe and happy. As the primary song tells us, he "has given me an earthly home, with parents kind and dear."

All of these things are important. But ultimately, they pale in importance. As Alma told the people of Gideon, "ye look forward for the remission of your sins...which is to come. For behold...there be many things to come; and behold, there is one thing which is of more importance than they all--for behold, the time is not far distant that the Redeemer liveth and cometh among his people" (Alma 7:6-7). Joseph Smith told the Saints that "the fundamental principles of our religion are the testimonies of the apostles and prophets concerning Jesus Christ: that He died, was buried, and rose again the third day and ascended into heaven, and all other things which pertain to our religion are only appendages to it” (History of the Church, 3:30). In other words, everything else having to do with our religion--tithing, food storage, eternal families, missionary work, the word of wisdom--all these things are of secondary importance when we consider the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

This singular event in human history--the birth, life, and death of the Firstborn Son of God--is the most compelling demonstration of God's love for us. John the Beloved wrote, "For God so loved the world, that He gave His Only Begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent...His Son into the world...that the world through Him might be saved" (John 3:16-17). The angel in Nephi's vision equated the coming of the Son of God with the tree of life, which is a representation of "the love of God, which sheddeth itself abroad in the hearts of the children of men; wherefore, it is the most desirable above all things...yea, and the most joyous to the soul" (1 Nephi 11:22-23).

The thing "of more importance than they all," the "fundamental principle of our religion," the thing that is "most joyous to the soul," is the ultimate demonstration of God's love for us--that the Word of God, the mighty Jehovah who was worshiped in celestial realms, condescended to come to the earth that He had formed, to walk among us, to live with us and like us, to experience sorrow, betrayal, and abandonment personally, to learn "according to the flesh" what it is to be human, to be infirm, so that "he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities" (Alma 7:12). He tasted of our humanity so that He could give us of His divinity.

He lived for us, suffered for us, died for us and rose again the third day. This atoning sacrifice is the ultimate proof of God's love for us, for, as Paul wrote, "If God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" (Romans 8:31-32). The Atonement of Christ is proof that God loved us, but it is more than that--it is proof that He will never stop loving us, that He will never stop forgiving us when we repent, that He will never stop calling to us and beckoning us to come unto Him. Because He has already paid the ultimate price to allow us to come back to Him, we can be sure that there is no further price He would not be willing to pay to make sure that we do.

Because Christ's Atonement was infinite, we can be confident that God's love and patience are also infinite. As Paul put it, "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?...Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us" (Romans 8:35,37). More than conquerors, he says. Because the infinite love of an infinitely merciful God, we have the assurance of an infinite atonement which can make us, not just conquerors, but more than conquerors.

He continues, "For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (v. 38-39).
Brothers and sisters, I, like Paul, am fully persuaded that nothing in heaven, on earth, or in hell can separate us from the love of God through Christ Jesus our Lord.

President Uchtdorf said it this way,

"Think of the purest, most all-consuming love you can imagine. Now multiply that love by an infinite amount—that is the measure of God’s love for you...Though we are incomplete, God loves us completely. Though we are imperfect, He loves us perfectly. Though we may feel lost and without compass, God’s love encompasses us completely.

"He loves us because He is filled with an infinite measure of holy, pure, and indescribable love. We are important to God not because of our résumé but because we are His children. He loves every one of us, even those who are flawed, rejected, awkward, sorrowful, or broken. God’s love is so great that He loves even the proud, the selfish, the arrogant, and the wicked.

"What this means is that, regardless of our current state, there is hope for us. No matter our distress, no matter our sorrow, no matter our mistakes, our infinitely compassionate Heavenly Father desires that we draw near to Him so that He can draw near to us."

God loves all His children. His love is not provincial. It does not restrict itself. God loves men and women, children and adults, rich and poor, straight and gay, black and white, Mormon and Catholic and Buddhist and Muslim, Republicans and Democrats, Americans and Russians and Africans, the married, single, and divorced, Ph.D's and high school dropouts.

At times we feel unworthy of this great love. We're not wrong to feel that way--God's love isn't something we deserve. That's the greatest miracle--that God loves us especially when we don't deserve His love. Paul put it this way in his epistle to the Romans, "The love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us. For when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die. But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:5-8). While we were yet sinners, he says. Christ died for us because we were sinners, not because we were good men. He died for us, not because we deserved His gift, but because we could never deserve it. His death paid for our ransom, not our signing bonus. His last acts on earth demonstrated His love for those who clearly did not deserve it. He healed of a man who came to arrest him. He consoled the thieves who hung beside him. And He pled for forgiveness for the men who crucified him. In doing so, He showed that no one is beyond the reach of His great mercy, no matter how sinful, lost, or fallen. He came as a physician for those that were sick, not for those that were whole. He came, as He said, not to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance.

Brothers and sisters, in our zeal to declare ourselves saints, to pat ourselves on the back for being gods in embryo, we must never forget that we, all of us and each of us, are sinners, dreadfully fallen and irredeemably lost unless we rely on the merits, and mercy, and grace, and love of the Holy Messiah, "who layeth down his life according to the flesh, and taketh it again by the power of the Spirit...[and] he shall make intercession for all the children of men; and they that believe in him shall be saved" (2 Nephi 2:8-9).

A year and a half ago, I had the chance to live in Jerusalem for a time. While I was there, I spent a lot of time among the olive trees in the Garden of Gethsemane. A beautiful cathedral is built over the site where, tradition has it, Jesus knelt on a rock to pray, and suffered and bled as His atoning journey began. A friend wrote about the experience, "Christ alone paid the price for sin. He had the weight of the world press down upon Him until He bled from every pore. This blood He so freely spilt, gives us comfort and healing, life and light. How grateful I am that on this night Christ would be willing to bear the burden of my sins, that I might be healed...As I sat there in the Church...I felt a great pain for the suffering that Christ suffered on my behalf. I sat there completely alone in the church and thought of when He was completely alone in the garden. I sat there in dark (the chapel is intentionally dark to represent night) as I thought of how the Messiah kneeled in darkness, pleading on my behalf to the Father. As He bore my burden, blood came from every pore. As these thoughts filled my mind, I was then filled with the most joyous happiness I have perhaps ever felt. I did not feel guilt for His pain, I felt peace. I did not feel anxiety for the suffering I caused Him, I felt forgiveness. I did not feel sadness for causing such anguish, I felt pure love. I love my Savior, and will be eternally grateful for that which He did for me, in a garden called Gethsemane. In a garden that by its very name symbolizes the freedom, life, and light that has been brought into my life through His precious blood."

I feel much the same way. I love my Savior. I am grateful for the freedom and light He has given me, for the peace that His love has brought me. I, like my friend, have "felt to sing the song of redeeming love."

I had another friend some years ago, who was struggling with a trial I had never experienced and could not understand mentally. As I watched him go through it, I saw the depths of hell in his eyes. I saw his pain and anguish, and I chose to love him, and I hurt with him. But there came a point when I had nothing left to give him, no more emotional energy for him, when my heart was empty and I had exhausted my natural strength. And at that moment, I was filled with a love so deep I knew it did not come from within me. I saw my friend as the Savior saw him. I loved him the way the Savior loved him. When I had nothing left to give, the Lord filled me with His love, gave me His strength, showed me how much and how purely He loved both of us. He gave me a portion of that love. He taught us and healed us, showed His willingness to quickly forgive and redeem. As I grew closer to my friend, I grew closer to God. I saw that God was not the wrathful being I had imagined. I saw that, as John put it, "God is love," he said, "and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him" (1 John 4:16).

Because of Christ's great sacrifice, we can have hope for the present and for the future. We can find peace in this life, and eternal life in the world to come. We can conquer fear, for "there is no fear in love, but perfect love casteth out all fear, because fear hath torment" (1 John 4:18). When we are filled with the love of God, we can find peace even in a world of turmoil, even when, like Nephi, we do not understand the meaning of all things.

Nephi's statement has become more and more meaningful to me over the years, as I have come to grips with many things I do not understand. I have asked questions for which there are no answers. At times I have cried in frustration to the heavens, and the heavens have remained silent. But one thing that I have felt over and over again is the assurance that God loves me, that He knows me, that He wants me back, that nothing that is or was or ever will be can separate me from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

I believe that someday I will have all the answers I now lack. I believe that my Savior, who lived and died for me, will one day come again, that I will see in his eyes His great love, which I now glimpse only "through a glass darkly, but then face to face. Now I know [his love] in part, but then I shall know even as I am known" (1 Cor. 13:12).

Until that day, I know and bear witness that each of us are children of God, and that God loves His children.

Picture from http://www.illuminatemind.com/uploads/Image/Spirit%20eagle.jpg

Where Two Or Three Are Gathered

2010-05-18T19:52:00.000-07:00

I recently had a discussion with a friend that got me thinking. We talked about how we gain gospel understanding, answers to prayer, and sacred experiences. As a people, we make much of the solitary nature of sacred experiences. We emphasize the importance of personal pondering and prayer, developing an intimacy with the Savior, and keeping things that are holy to oneself.

All these things are good. We are commanded to "pour out your souls in your closets, and your secret places, and in your wilderness" (Alma 34:26), for there are answers to prayer that can only be gained in the silence of one's closet, in the prayer and meditation that are kept only between the Lord and His child. There are experiences so sacred that they cannot be shared.

But there are also experiences so sacred that they cannot be kept to oneself, nor had in isolation. There are answers to prayer that can only be gained in the union of community, in the holiness of friendship, in the special moments when two souls touch, when hearts are healed and relationships are exalted. There is a sacred light that flows into the lives of individuals only when they are together, when the barriers to intimacy are demolished, when they are united in purpose and desire, when, having opened their hearts to each other, they can together come to Christ, unitedly placing their wounded hearts in the wounded hands of their Redeemer.

Prayers in the closet are essential. And there is a time to leave the closet (in more than the colloquial sense), to engage with our fellow-men in building Zion. There are heights that can only be reached in the stillness of personal prayer. And there are other heights we will never see without another person by our side. When we sense that another imperfect mortal knows us intimately and loves us anyway, we gain confidence that the Lord, who is perfect, can still love us. When we return that love, when we learn to love imperfect people, imperfectly, we become more like the Savior we worship.

Christ prayed for His followers, "that they all may be one, as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us" (John 17:21). For "where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them" (Matthew 18:20).

Picture from http://i.dailymail.co.uk

Another Mother's Day

2010-05-09T18:26:00.000-07:00

Last year, a member of my singles' ward bishopric asked me to speak in church on mothers' day. The poor man didn't know what he was getting himself into. Since it was a student ward with no mothers in attendance, and since I was sick of hearing "angel mother" stories that turned into eulogies of various students' mothers--people who, though undoubtedly delightful, were unknown to everyone else in the congregation, I decided to talk about a Mother we all had in common, a Woman we would all know more fully someday. I had heard many talks praising the speaker's father that then went on to discuss the bishop's role as the father of the ward, and further explained how the fathers in their lives had helped point them toward their Heavenly Father, but I had heard no similar talks about mothers. There's a first time for everything, I guess.
Here I present what is probably the first (and last) talk you will ever hear (or read) about our Mother in Heaven. Happy Mother's Day!

Mothers deserve a day of honor. The women who carried us inside of them for nine months, who gave birth to us, who raised us, who nurtured us and made us who we are, deserve our respect and love. I recognize, of course, that we all have different relationships with our mothers. Some of our mothers are members of the Church, some never were, and some have turned away from the light and knowledge they once received. Some of our mothers were kind and loving, and some were abusive or neglectful. Some of us have mothers who have passed away. Some of us never knew our mothers.

Regardless of our particular family circumstance in mortality, one of the most glorious and comforting doctrines of the restored gospel is that we are members of an eternal Heavenly family. We are all brothers and sisters, and we are all children of the same Heavenly Parents. Though we often speak of our Heavenly Father, it is equally true that we have a Heavenly Mother. On this day created to honor mothers, it is about our Mother in Heaven that I wish to speak. I invite the Spirit to be with me and with you as we discuss this sacred topic.

First, I will discuss why this doctrine is important to us in the broader gospel context. Second, I will describe some attributes of our Heavenly Mother. Finally, I will discuss how an understanding of this doctrine changes our behavior and makes a real difference in our lives.

First, why is this doctrine important? In the book The Articles of Faith, Elder James E. Talmage wrote: “We are expressly told that God is the Father of spirits, and to apprehend the literalness of this solemn truth we must know that a Mother of spirits is an existent personality.”(1) Joseph Smith has told us that “if men do not comprehend the character of God, they do not comprehend themselves.”(2) And speaking of the nature of God, Elder Erastus Snow said, “God consists of both an exalted man and an exalted woman... there can be no god except he is composed of the man and woman united, and there is not in all the eternities that exist, nor ever will be, a God in any other way.”(3) Therefore, when our scriptures refer to “God,” (or in Hebrew, the plural word “Elohim”), the word “God” is interchangeable with the phrase “Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother.”

From these three prophets we learn the importance of the knowledge that we have a Mother in Heaven. Without that knowledge, the plan of salvation is incomplete, since without an understanding that we have a Mother we would lack an understanding of what it means to call God our “Father.” We would lose sight of the true nature of God. Without this crucial understanding, we could not grasp the nature and importance of eternal marriage and eternal families. If we do not comprehend the character of God—and remember that “God” means “Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother”—we do not comprehend ourselves, for we are made in Their image and with the potential to become like Them.

With the knowledge that we have a God that consists of a married couple, an exalted husband and wife, who desire us to become like them, we must ask ourselves: What are They like? What attributes must we possess in order to become like Them? We could all list many attributes of our Father in Heaven, but what are some attributes of our Mother in Heaven?

Elder John A. Widtsoe wrote, “In accordance with Gospel philosophy there are males and females in heaven. Since we have a Father, who is our God, we must also have a mother, who possesses the attributes of Godhood.”(4)

From Elder Widtsoe we learn that our Mother in heaven possesses the attributes of Godhood. As She is the Mother of our spirits and the companion of our Heavenly Father, we must also understand that She has a glorified body of flesh and bone. Melvin J. Ballard remarked, “No matter to what heights God has attained or may attain, he does not stand alone; for side by side with him, in all her glory, a glory like unto his, stands a companion, the Mother of his children...a glorified, exalted, ennobled Mother.”(5) From Elder Ballard we learn that our Mother in Heaven is a noble and exalted being of great glory.

It is important to recognize that our Mother in Heaven is not merely an appendage to the work of the Father—She is in every way united with Him in Their work to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of men and women (Moses 1:39). Elder Bruce R. McConkie has told us, “An exalted and glorified Man of Holiness (Moses 6:57) could not be a Father unless a Woman of like glory, perfection, and holiness was associated with him as a Mother.”(6) She is His equal in every conceivable way. Without Her, He would not be who He is. And though we pray to our Heavenly Father in the name of the Son, the unity that our Father shares with His wife makes it clear that when we ask for the counsel of one, we receive the united counsel and love of both.

We know that our Mother in Heaven loves us and has a great influence on us, for we are Her children. President Kimball said, “we get a sense of the...queenly elegance of our Heavenly Mother, and knowing how profoundly our mortal mothers have shaped us here, do we suppose her influence on us as individuals to be less?(7) Just as the best of mortal mothers love and teach their children as they grow to adulthood, so our Heavenly Mother loves and teaches us as we grow to become like Her and like our Father.

Finally, how does an understanding of this important doctrine affect us? How does it impact our behavior to know that we have a Mother in Heaven in whose image we are made who is a God, who loves us, and who is united and equal with our Heavenly Father? How does an understanding of this doctrine bring us closer to Christ and therefore closer to our Heavenly Parents?

From the example of our Heavenly Parents, we learn that we are to be as united and equal in our marriages as our Heavenly Parents are in Theirs. In order that we may be prepared to return to Their presence and live as They live, there is no place for superiority or inequality in a marriage. We learn that perfect unity between spouses gives a marriage power—Godly power—just as the unity between our Heavenly Parents gives Them power and dominion. Indeed, without unity between husband and wife, there is no exaltation, there is no godhood. Truly we can see that, “neither is the man without the woman, neither the woman without the man, in the Lord” (1 Cor. 11:11), for in the Lord, both man (the Father) and woman (the Mother) are united as a couple, possessing the same power, dominion, glory, and exaltation to the same degree that they are united as one.

When we see our spouses as the other half of the God we will someday become, we will not be inclined to be selfish in our interactions with them, to put them down or to belittle them. Instead, we will see our husbands and wives—and indeed, all men and women—as children made in the image and possessing the Divine attributes of a united God, our Eternal Father and Mother. With this knowledge, we will better understand why They value marriage, motherhood, and fatherhood, both in this life and in eternity. Only by understanding our Eternal Father and Mother can we understand the true purpose of earthly fatherhood and motherhood.

I will close by reading an excerpt from an article in The Millennial Star, which was the Church’s newspaper in Great Britain: “The love of God is often illustrated by showing what an earthly father will do for a child. But does a mother do less?...When we draw nearer the Divine Man, lo! we shall find a Divine Woman smiling upon us. Much ... in music, ... poetry, and ... art, is the expression of the soul’s instinctive sigh for a Divine Mother. In the Father’s many mansions we shall find her and be satisfied.”(8)

I bear my solemn witness that we have a Mother in Heaven who loves us, who is the Godly equal of our Father in Heaven, who possesses with Him all might, majesty, and dominion in perfect and eternal unity. I bear witness that Their marital unity and Their parenthood are perfect examples for us as we prepare for and enter into marriage, the order of the Priesthood that is necessary to become exalted as They are. I bear witness that one day we will find Them both and know Them and be like Them, and our soul’s instinctive desires will thereby be satisfied, and I do it in the sacred name of Their Son, the Lord Jesus Christ.

1 (A. of F., p. 443).
2 The King Follett Discourse
3 Journal of Discourses, Vol.19, p.269-271, Erastus Snow, March 3, 1878
4 A Rational Theology, p.69
5 Melvin J. Ballard, cited in Bryant S. Hinckley, Sermons and Missionary Services of Melvin Joseph Ballard, p. 205.)
6 Mormon Doctrine, p.517
7 Spencer W. Kimball, “The True Way of Life and Salvation,” Ensign, May 1978, 4
8 The Millennial Star, Vol 34 no. 9, Feb 27, 1872, p.140

Blessed Are They Who Have Not Seen

2010-04-11T14:47:00.000-07:00

The Gospel of John records an interesting episode that took place a week after Christ's resurrection. Since this Sunday marks a week after Easter, I thought it would be appropriate to write about this episode today.

On the day of His resurrection, Christ appeared to the women who came to the empty tomb, then to the assembled disciples as they hid in an upper room. He ate with them again, and gave them the opportunity to feel His wounds and gain an intimate knowledge of the reality of His death and resurrection. They must have been overjoyed to see Him--their grief and lamentation turned into praise and adoration.

That evening, John records that "Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came. The other disciples therefore said unto him, We have seen the Lord. But he said unto them, Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe" (20:24-25).

In the break between this verse and the next are eight days left unrecorded. I have thought this week about what took place in those intervening days. Thomas had not been present, and so could not believe that such an unprecedented thing as the Resurrection had taken place. Did Thomas regret whatever circumstance had kept him from that room that Sunday evening? Did he mourn the lost opportunity? Did he wonder if he would ever get a chance to see the friend he had lost?

What did Thomas think about during that week? Did the other disciples try to convince Thomas of their experience? One by one, did they bear testimony of the living Christ? Did Thomas's heart break to hear them? Did he want to believe that Christ was alive, but simply found their tale too fantastical to swallow?

Did the other disciples think less of Thomas for his unbelief? Did Thomas think less of himself, that the other disciples had been given an experience that he had been denied? Did he doubt his own relationship with the Lord he loved? Did he pray and seek for an understanding of why he, out of all of the disciples, had been left out of this magnificent event?

A week passed--a week that must have been the longest week of Thomas's life, a week that must have tried his faith and made him question his high calling. Only then did Thomas receive the great blessing of seeing his Lord. His response to that manifestation demonstrates that he does not deserve the pejorative title "Doubting Thomas." Rather, I like to call him "Thomas, the Believer."

"And after eight days again his disciples were within, and Thomas with them: then came Jesus, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, Peace be unto you. Then saith he to Thomas, Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing. And Thomas answered and said unto him, My Lord and my God. Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed" (John 20:26-29).

There have been times in my life when I have felt like Thomas--left out in the cold, wanting to believe, but doubting, like I'm the only one missing out on some great cosmic secret that everyone around me seems to understand so readily. I grate to hear others question my faith and devotion, applying a formulaic approach to the gospel, and concluding that because I do not yet believe what they believe, my lack of knowledge must be due to a lack of righteous desire, earnest prayer, or sincere searching. In doing so, they forget that the gospel is not a formula, that God is not a vending machine, that things of the spirit are more complicated than reductionist logic will allow, that just as the wind "bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit" (John 3:8). Spiritual experiences and their accompanying heavenly knowledge, though immutably promised (Doc. & Cov. 104:2), are non-programmable and cannot be forced.

Thomas never denied his testimony of the things he did know, even while he was waiting for a experiential confirmation of the things he did not know. In this same vein came the Lord's invocation, "blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." Going forward in faith, with an eye single to the glory of God, even when the way is uncertain, when the logic of a situation will not permit a blind belief in a self-contradictory miracle, will be rewarded with the Lord's blessings, in the Lord's own time and in His own way. When we cry out with the honesty of incomplete knowledge, with faith seeking understanding, "Lord, I believe! Help thou mine unbelief," He will hear our prayers and visit us in our afflictions. He may not remove our heartaches or answer our questions immediately, but His love for us will not diminish because of them. On the contrary--I believe His love for us will only increase as He sees our faithfulness and discipleship, even in times when our faith and our knowledge are lacking and incomplete. When we have times like Thomas, we can find comfort in the love that our Savior has for us, even in our mortal weakness, and in pressing forward in faithful discipleship, receive the blessings promised to those "that have not seen, and yet have believed."

"And many other signs truly did Jesus in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book: But these are written, that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye might have life through his name" (John 20:30-31).

From The Archives: Let Us Not Mock God With Metaphor

2010-04-04T16:05:00.000-07:00

SEVEN STANZAS FOR EASTER

By John Updike

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells' dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His Flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that — pierced — died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mache,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck's quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

From Updike, John. "Telephone Poles and Other Poems" (New York: Alfred A. Knopf,1961).

I love Updike's beautiful poem, especially his sense of the literal nature of Christ's resurrection and the miracles that accompanied it, reflected in phrases like "weighty with Max Planck's quanta, vivid with hair" (Call me a nerd; a reference to Max Planck in an Easter poem made me grin). I have appreciated the opportunity I have had to visit the places where the stories of the scriptures occurred, and to become acquainted with the real places and real people involved in the stories I have long loved. Now these places are real to me--full of meaning, their dust blowing in my eyes and their birds chirping in my ears, their water lapping at my feet and their trees shading my face, their cool stones giving me a refuge and standing as a monument against time.

The scriptures are about us, it is true, but there is another side to the coin. The scriptures are about people who were very different from us, who lived in places far from our homes. They are beautiful metaphors, but they are not just metaphors, not just morality plays. They are also wonderfully literal explorations of the loves of real people, who lived in real places, felt real emotions, and had real experiences with the divine.

My testimony is of the literal reality of the scriptural accounts of the life of Christ. I know He was born in a stable, laid in a manger, and worshipped by shepherds. I know He fed thousands with a few loaves and fishes. I know He healed the lepers, gave sight to the blind, unstopped the ears of the deaf, and raised the dead. I know He suffered in Gethsemane, was crucified on a tree, died, was buried, and literally rose again the third day. I know He stands today at the right hand of the Father, and He will literally come again to judge the living and the dead.

Let us not mock God with metaphor, for He literally lives.

A Very Holy Week

2010-04-03T21:54:00.000-07:00

This has been a truly inspiring and beautiful Holy Week.

On Palm Sunday, I attended services at a Methodist church in Salt Lake, where their bell choir's canticle and their choir's selection from Wagner accompanied the exultant hearts of the congregants, who praised the Lord with palms, as had His people anciently. I spent time throughout the week arranging a song composed by a dear friend, which bore beautiful testimony of Christ's mission as our "Savior, King, and Friend." The spring cleaning associated with Passover came next, as I purged my home of leavened items and prepared a traditional meal of roasted lamb, rice, and unleavened bread. Wednesday and Thursday night I ate a ceremonial seder dinner with close friends and loved ones, and as we discussed the Lord's deliverance of the children of Israel from bondage, and the Lord's last supper with His disciples, my heart was stirred in remembrance. Truly this night was different from all other nights.

On Good Friday, I spent the morning thinking about the physical punishments that my Savior suffered that day. In a way I hadn't expected, I confronted my own discomfort with pain and recognized the salvific nature of that suffering. I spent the afternoon in Salt Lake's majestic cathedral, first for a meditation on Christ's seven statements from the cross. I have holy envy for the emphasis on meditation in the Catholic faith. There is nothing quite like a cathedral to draw one's mind upwards in contemplation of holiness. Following the meditation, the cathedral filled with people, who fell still as the children's choir walked out, dressed in their choir robes. They stood behind a wooden screen, and the air filled with music. Their sensitive rendition of Pergolesi's Stabat Mater seemed to soar over the congregants, the notes hanging in the air with an ethereal beauty.

Stabat Mater is a Latin poem that meditates on the sufferings of Mary when she saw her son abused and crucified. As I listened, with the acoustics of the cathedral making the already-lovely music transcendent, I realized, for perhaps the first time, that Mary was the only one who had a sure knowledge of Jesus' divinity. Others had seen angels, witnessed miracles, or received a testimony by the Holy Spirit, but Mary was the only one who knew of a surety that Jesus was who He said He was. She knew that, while yet a virgin, she had conceived, and she knew her child was God's divine Son. So while any mother's soul would ache to see her son in such pain, Mary's pain would have been so much greater because of her perfect knowledge of His identity. She watched her son whipped, mocked, and condemned. She stood with Him at the foot of the cross and heard His last words and watched Him die. And through it all, she knew beyond the possibility of doubt that her son, the man that her people were destroying, was God's Only Begotten Son in the flesh, the Messiah of the Jews, the Savior of the world. How she must have wept! How she must have ached to run to His side, to comfort Him as she had when He was a child in her home! How she must have longed to embrace Him! How she must have mourned over His lifeless form! Though it is not customary in the LDS tradition to think about Mary, her life filled my mind. Her pain engulfed me.

The music ended, and the congregants filed out. I remained in the cathedral, praying, reading, and meditating on the last days of the Savior's life. I read from the scriptures, from the words of modern prophets and scholars, and meditated on the meaning of Christ's infinite atoning journey. I found sober meaning in the five sorrowful mysteries of the rosary--the agony in the garden, the scourging at the pillar, the crowning with thorns, carrying the cross, and the crucifixion on Golgotha's cruel tree. Clothed in black, I mourned the death of my Savior. I mourned to think that I had caused Him such pain, that His death had been required to atone for my stubborn pride.

"For when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die.

But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:6-8).

The Stations of the Cross service that evening began with the words of a Bach Chorale,

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown...

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners’ gain; Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.
The clergy then processed around the sanctuary, carrying the cross. At each station we joined them in praising the Lord for His redemptive suffering and death, read the scriptural story, prayed for strength to remain faithful, and sang a hymn of remembrance. Though I wouldn't describe the day as "happy," it was certainly Good. The quiet contemplation occasioned by the events of that day led to what a friend has called "a swelling of the soul," as my heart reached out in devotion, stretching to touch the wounds of God.

As I left the cathedral, I was shocked to see street preachers protesting outside, waving their defamatory signs and screaming their hateful slogans. I was filled with a deep sadness to think that anyone could be hardened and irreverent enough to disrupt the spirit of something so holy. And then, in a flash, I realized how appropriate it was that some small part of the taunts that met Christ on His last day should be thrown at His followers as they remembered His painful journey two millenia later. Those who screamed, "Crucify Him!" had likewise lost their reverence for the One who was most holy. He had told His disciples to expect opposition, "If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you" (John 15:18). "But be of good cheer; I have overcome the world" (16:33).

As I drove past these people, the words of the Master came into my mind, "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye?" (Matthew 5:44-46). What reward, indeed? If Christ could forgive and pray for the men who put Him on the cross, why did I find it so challenging to love difficult people? Why, when I tried to pray for these people, did the words stick in my throat?

That evening I learned something of the contrast between the Lord's magnificent power and my own weakness, between His transformative grace and my own petty small-mindedness, between His self-sacrificing love and my selfish indifference. Tears sprang to my eyes unbidden as I realized that even on this, the holiest of days, my nature was still so very far from my Savior's.

I drove down the street to the Salt Lake Temple. I decided to do initiatories that evening, though I usually avoid them. The beauty of being with women that evening, women clothed with power and authority, was healing to my soul. In a place filled with light, I was washed, anointed, and clothed by women of faith, as my Savior had been during the last week of His ministry. As I finished the work, I felt impressed to ask the last worker a question that has troubled me for a long time. As she answered, her empathy and love caressed my broken heart, and the Spirit filled the room in a way that cannot be written. As we embraced, our tears flowed freely and the love of the Savior surrounded us and drew us into the communion that Christ had prayed for, "that they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us" (John 17:21). Sustained by that love, I went to the celestial room. Sitting in a quiet antechamber behind a stained-glass window, I received an answer to prayer that I had not expected, but had earnestly hoped for. And I discovered, once again, what by now should no longer surprise me--the Father's plan really is all about Jesus. His love for all His children--and for me individually--is infinite and endless. In speaking with Him and gaining that knowledge once again, I was overcome.

Saturday was General Conference. I got to go to the Conference Center with friends for both sessions. To sit and learn from the Lord's prophets is always a beautiful experience, but this year, Conference seemed especially good. The talks focused on the gospel of Jesus Christ, and how we can care for our families and neighbors and find faith and hope in a frightening world--a very timely message. The music added immeasurably to the Spirit. As I was heading to get in line for the first session, I ran into a dear friend I met in Jerusalem, who is currently serving a mission on Temple Square. I haven't seen her for far too long, and since I'll soon be leaving the state, I probably won't have another chance to see her for several years. The wealth of shared experience hung around us as we clung to each other. We spent Holy Week together last year, waving palm branches in Bethphage on Palm Sunday, celebrating Mass in Gethsemane on Good Friday, and looking over the Mount of Olives at sunrise on Easter morning. Now she is spending her life testifying of Christ, in Arabic when possible, and always with the Spirit. Her life is full of light, and she continues to inspire me. Seeing her there was a tender blessing.

Today was Resurrection Sunday. I awoke early, and read the accounts of the first Resurrection morning. Having stood at the foot of the cross, and at the sepulchre weeping, during the past few days, this morning I ran with the disciples to the empty tomb, and saw, and believed. The morning meant so much more to me because of the week that had preceded it. I listened to a friend's beautiful song, evocative of the emotions that filled Mary Magdalene at seeing the empty tomb. And I listened to Handel's Messiah, that beautiful Easter piece that immortalizes holy scripture with soaring music. I watched Conference in my living room, in the peaceful stillness that my soul craves, and was buoyed up and inspired to do and be better, to go forward with faith in the One who atoned for me and so conquered sin and death.

May each of you have a happy Resurrection Sunday. For Christ is risen! Hosanna, He is risen indeed!

Enough To Die For Me

2010-04-02T07:22:00.000-07:00

Today is Good Friday, the day Christ died for our sins. It's the most somber day in the Christian liturgical calendar, and an important step before the joy of Easter morning. It doesn't lend itself well to chocolate or pretty lights or brightly-colored eggs delivered by mythical figures, but it isn't a day we can afford to skip over.

We tend to forget about it in the LDS Church, running straight from the wondrous atonement begun in Gethsemane, past the scourging and the trials and the cross and all the painful bits, and straight to the glory of resurrection morning. But the cross stands in the way. Jesus, in speaking to the Nephites, defined His gospel in terms of the cross, "this is the gospel which I have given unto you—that I came into the world to do the will of my Father... And my Father sent me that I might be lifted up upon the cross; and after that I had been lifted up upon the cross, that I might draw all men unto me" (3 Nephi 27:13-14).

As I have meditated on Christ's journey this week, I have been filled with an overwhelming sense of how great the price of our redemption was, of how much love it took to complete His infinite atonement. I have been struck with a profound sense of gratitude and awe that the sinless Son of God would care for me enough to suffer to greatly--and not just to suffer, but also to die for me. He endured the agony in the garden, when the weight of the aggregate incompleteness of fallen man was imposed upon him. He was betrayed by one He loved and abandoned by all others, mocked, spit upon, and tried by the men He had created. He was scourged at the pillar, crowned with thorns, and forced to carry His own cross. Finally, as the culmination of his suffering, He was nailed to Calvary's cruel cross to die. With His last breaths, He forgave those responsible for His agony. He was abandoned even by His Father, and His last prayers went unanswered. His suffering is greater than any that I could experience. It is great enough to demand my reverence, my love, and my complete and unreserved devotion.

I think of my own sufferings, of how they pale by comparison. When I feel like my trials are too much to bear, that the pain is too great, the loneliness too intense, I imagine myself standing before my Savior, showing Him the paper cuts and scratches on my hands and feet where the thorns and branches along my life's road have grazed my skin. And I imagine Him looking at my wounds with love, and showing me His own. And as I look, I find that the contrast is too great for words--the holes in His hands beside the callusses on mine, the thorns in His brow beside the sweat on mine, the stripes on His back beside the knapsack on mine. And in this dream, as I fall at His feet to worship Him, and see the marks of the nails even there, I finally understand that my Lord walked a more painful road than I had imagined, that He really has borne my griefs and carried my sorrows, that the punishment that brings me peace was laid upon Him. I weep to see that I have caused Him so much pain, to know that He was willing to bear it because of His love for me. And in that transcendent, infinite, sacrificial love, my pain is turned into joy, my grief into love, my confusion into understanding, my forgetfulness into awe.

Truly, it is wonderful that He should care for me enough to die for me. Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!

Palm Sunday: Hosanna In The Highest

2010-03-29T08:30:00.000-07:00

This is a powerful and poignant week in the larger Christian community. This week, Western Christians celebrate the last week of the Savior's mortal ministry, beginning with His triumphal entry, and encompassing his powerful teachings and parables of that week, the Last Supper He held with His disciples and friends, His Atonement, trials, and death, His burial, and His glorious Resurrection.

We begin with the day known as Palm Sunday, which marks Christ's triumphal entry into the city of Jerusalem. Two centuries ago, a man known as Jesus of Nazareth rode into the city from His night residence in Bethany, in the home of Simon the Leper and his children Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, all dear personal friends of Jesus. He rode on the back of a donkey, in the manner of the ancient kings of Israel as they went to be crowned. The symbol did not escape the notice of the people, who, having heard of His arrival, "spread their garments in the way; others cut down branches from the trees, and strawed them in the way. And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!" (Matthew 21:8-9). Hosanna, they cried--literally, "Oh, save us now!" They recognized Christ as the king He was, and quoted (and sang, perhaps) a Messianic Psalm (Psalm 118) to greet Him.

The scene was enough to interest the rest of the city's inhabitants, whose numbers had swelled tremendously in anticipation of the Passover, which would be celebrated in just a few days. Newcomers wanted an explanation, and Matthew records that "all the city was moved, saying, Who is this? And the multitude said, This is Jesus the prophet of Nazareth of Galilee" (Matthew 21:10-11). The disciples were not shy about proclaiming the greatness of their Master, as Luke records, "the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen" (Luke 19:37).

All this adoration bothered the Pharisees immensely, as Luke records: "And some of the Pharisees from among the multitude said unto him, Master, rebuke thy disciples" (Luke 19:39). But despite their plots against His life, and the harm He knew would come from so much publicity, the Savior refused to rebuke those who acknowledged the truth: that He who then descended the Mount of Olives was about to descend below all things, to rise above all things, that He might be in and through all things, the light of truth (Doc. & Cov. 88:6). He was and is the "light [that] shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not" (John 1:5). And though that week did not end as the disciples then expected, by the end of it they knew even more powerfully that Christ was the Lord, "for they shall not be ashamed that wait for me" (Isaiah 49:23).

Instead, Jesus rebuked the Pharisees, and testified that He was the promised Messiah: "And he answered and said unto them...if these [disciples] should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out" (Luke 19:40).

I feel driven to echo the testimony of these disciples, and to speak for the mute stones that would cry out. Like the disciples, I praise the Lord for the mighty works that I have seen. Like them, I cry Hosanna!--Oh, save me! My heart shouts praises to the Holy One of Israel. I praise Him for His light, which pierces the darkness of my heart. I praise Him for His healing power and mercy. I praise Him because He weeps, and because He laughs, because He smiles and sings and loves and teaches and heals. I praise Him because He died and because He lives. I love Him. I have given my life to His service.

Blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!

From The Archives: Ode To The Nameless Wife

2010-03-26T11:48:00.000-07:00

I love stories of exemplary women from the scriptures, even though they are fairly few and far between. One woman that I've thought about a lot lately is the wife of Alma the Younger. We never learn her name. In fact, Alma never even mentions her existence, but he had children, so I figure he must have had a wife.

What of this woman's story can we reconstruct, without any mention of her? What lessons can we learn from her life? I've managed to gain a lot from her. Bear with me for a moment as I construct what I believe is a convincing picture of her character.

First, let's review her husband's life. His father, also named Alma, was the high priest over the church in his land. Alma Jr., therefore, was in line for the office, and should have been among the most righteous, given his noble parentage. Instead, Alma and his buddies, the sons of Mosiah, went about trying to destroy the church of God. Alma "became a very wicked and an idolatrous man. And he was a man of many words, and did speak much flattery to the people; therefore he led many of the people to do after the manner of his iniquities. And he became a great hinderment to the prosperity of the church of God; stealing away the hearts of the people; causing much dissension among the people; giving a chance for the enemy of God to exercise his power over them" (Mosiah 27:8-9).

So Alma, in spite of his father's teachings, was a bad apple. I imagine, based on his description of his torment and his later attempts to make restitution for his sins, that he was guilty of apostasy, idolatry, adultery, hedonism, and a few other fairly heinous things. I also imagine, leading the wild lifestyle he was, that he wasn't married at the time. (This argument also holds up if he was married, but it's simpler and more intuitive if he was a wild, wicked bachelor.)

Now the short version of the rest of his story (this post is supposed to be about his wife, after all): An angel appears to Alma and his buddies as they're out worshipping idols, sleeping around, and generally breaking every known commandment. The angel gives Alma a royal telling-off, and he falls into a coma for a few days wherein he is tortured with all his sins, comes to Christ, applies the Atonement, repents, wakes up, and testifies of Christ, his past sins, and his current saved condition. The he and his buddies spend years going around preaching the gospel, confessing their sins, and trying to repair the wrongs they had done. Alma eventually becomes high priest (Alma 4:4), like his father. He has some sons. He gives some of the most powerful and profound discourses in the Book of Mormon, and, at the end of his life, was translated (we think) (Alma 45:18-19).
(For a more complete account of his life, see Alma 36, Mosiah 27, Robert Millet's article, and the Wikipedia article on him.)

Great. So how about his wife? We don't know much about her. Maybe she isn't mentioned because she died in childbirth. Maybe she outlived Alma. No idea. We don't have any of her words recorded.

But, going with the assumption that she married Alma after his spectacular conversion, we know one major thing about her: She must have understood and had faith in the power of the Atonement. Think of it--Alma and his father must have been well-known in their community. Alma's people must have known of their leader's greatness and his struggles with his wayward son. They would have heard him preach to them, and seen the sorrow in his eyes as he preached against the sin that was growing in the hearts of his people, hearts he knew were being led away by his own son. There must have been sleepless nights for Alma Senior and his wife as they wondered how they had failed as parents, and what they could do to reclaim their son. Alma Senior organized a group fast and prayer when Alma Jr. was struck down, and Alma Jr.'s testimony, confession, and missionary work were public. So his wife would have known of his prior rebellion. She would have known of the depth of his apostasy and wickedness. She may even have personally known the people whose testimonies he destroyed, the women whose virginity he took, the people he flattered away from their covenants and responsibilities. The community could not have been so large that she would have been unaware of Alma's past, for "this thing was not done in a corner" (Acts 26:26).

Yet she married Alma and bore him three sons: Helaman, Shiblon, and Corianton (who strayed while on his mission but later returned and repented). She must have been a great woman to be the wife of such a great prophet, and to raise such great sons.

I wonder if her husband's past ever tortured her. I wonder what she thought about before she married him. I can't believe that his past didn't cross her mind. I imagine that she thought long and hard about his repentance, and about what repentance really means. She must have understood that the Atonement really does have the power to change a person, to give them a different character, to change their desires. She had the faith required to marry him because she knew that the power of the Atonement was real, that she didn't have to worry about her husband straying again, because he had experienced a "might change of heart," and had "no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually" (Mosiah 5:2).

One of my greatest fears has always been that I would marry a man who was abusive or unfaithful to me or to the Lord. What Alma's wife did strikes me as terrifying, which may be why I admire her so much for her understanding of a principle I believe, but have yet to fully comprehend.

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already...And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light" (John 3:16-19).

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Clouds of Darkness and Circles of Fire

2010-03-17T13:52:00.000-07:00

When Nephi and Lehi (the brothers) were preaching in the land of Nephi, they were thrown into prison by an army of Lamanites, and kept without food. After many days, the Lamanites went to the prison to kill them. Much to their astonishment, "Nephi and Lehi were encircled about as if by fire, even insomuch that they durst not lay their hands upon them for fear lest they should be burned. Nevertheless, Nephi and Lehi were not burned; and they were as standing in the midst of fire and were not burned" (Helaman 5:23). Unwilling to touch the missionaries that had been divinely protected, the Lamanites didn't know what to do.

As Lehi and Nephi spoke to them, "the earth shook exceedingly, and the walls of the prison did shake as if they were about to tumble to the earth; but behold, they did not fall....And it came to pass that they were overshadowed with a cloud of darkness, and an awful solemn fear came upon them. And it came to pass that there came a voice as if it were above the cloud of darkness, saying: Repent ye, repent ye, and seek no more to destroy my servants whom I have sent unto you to declare good tidings...And it came to pass that the earth shook again, and the walls trembled. And it came to pass that the Lamanites could not flee because of the cloud of darkness which did overshadow them; yea, and also they were immovable because of the fear which did come upon them. Now there was one among them who was a Nephite by birth, who had once belonged to the church of God but had dissented from them. And it came to pass that he turned him about, and behold, he saw through the cloud of darkness the faces of Nephi and Lehi; and behold, they did shine exceedingly, even as the faces of angels. And he beheld that they did lift their eyes to heaven; and they were in the attitude as if talking or lifting their voices to some being whom they beheld"

Aminadab, a dissenter from the Nephites, told the Lamanite mob that Lehi and Nephi were conversing with the angels of God. The Lamanites asked him, "What shall we do, that this cloud of darkness may be removed from overshadowing us? And Aminadab said unto them: You must repent, and cry unto the voice, even until ye shall have faith in Christ, who was taught unto you by Alma, and Amulek, and Zeezrom; and when ye shall do this, the cloud of darkness shall be removed from overshadowing you"

The men began to pray in earnest, "yea, they did cry even until the cloud of darkness was dispersed. And it came to pass that when they cast their eyes about, and saw that the cloud of darkness was dispersed from overshadowing them, behold, they saw that they were encircled about, yea every soul, by a pillar of fire... yea, they were encircled about; yea, they were as if in the midst of a flaming fire, yet it did harm them not, neither did it take hold upon the walls of the prison; and they were filled with that joy which is unspeakable and full of glory"

As I was reading this story recently, I realized something that had never occurred to me before. The fire that encircled the people had been there throughout the whole story. When the walls shook, the fire was there. When the army prayed to the voice they heard, the fire was there. The fire didn't appear when the cloud of darkness lifted--the fire had always been encircling the people, unseen, hidden by the cloud, but still there. But it was only when the darkness had lifted that the people "saw that they were encircled about" by the fire, and the sight of God's power surrounding them filled them with "that joy which is unspeakable and full of glory."

"And behold, the Holy Spirit of God did come down from heaven, and did enter into their hearts, and they were filled as if with fire, and they could speak forth marvelous words. And it came to pass that there came a voice unto them, yea, a pleasant voice, as if it were a whisper, saying: Peace, peace be unto you, because of your faith in my Well Beloved, who was from the foundation of the world. And now, when they heard this they cast up their eyes as if to behold from whence the voice came; and behold, they saw the heavens open; and angels came down out of heaven and ministered unto them...and they were bidden to go forth and marvel not, neither should they doubt" (v. 27-49).

It is comforting to me to realize that even in our darkest moments, we are surrounded by the fire of God's protection and His glorious love. Even when everything is black, even when the walls that hold up our dwellings shake, even when our hearts are filled with awful fear, when the darkness that clouds our lives seems impenetrable, we can have confidence that God's protective power surrounds us. And when we rend the veil of our unbelief, when we exercise faith in Christ, we can see the glory of God, and be given His whispered peace, His angelic ministrations, and His infinite love.

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The Lord Is My Shepherd

2010-03-07T10:09:00.000-08:00

The first principle of the gospel is faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

Joseph Smith told us that three things are necessary in order to exercise faith in the Lord: First, a knowledge that He actually exists; Second, a correct idea of His character and attributes; Third, a knowledge that our course in life is according to His will. (See Lectures on Faith)

I wish to focus today on the second of these three prerequisites for faith: a correct idea of God’s character and attributes.

We’re encouraged, in scripture and in church meetings, to develop a personal relationship with the Lord. We’re told to pray to Him, to tell Him the desires of our hearts. We’re told that, through the Holy Ghost, we can receive personal revelation from the Lord relating to our particular circumstances or challenges.

The Lord, in the Doctrine & Covenants, instructed His people about His character and attributes, so that they could exercise faith in Him and enter into a right relationship with Him. Quoting John, He spoke of His role as God’s Word, the Firstborn, who created worlds and came into the world as the light of the world, full of grace and truth. “He received a fulness of the glory of the Father; And he received all power, both in heaven and on earth, and the glory of the Father was with him, for he dwelt in him” (Doc. & Cov. 93:16-17). Why are these things important for us to understand? The Lord explained, “I give unto you these sayings, that you may understand and know how to worship, and know what you worship, that you may come unto the Father in my name, and in due time receive of his fulness” (v. 19).

Knowing the Being we worship, He says, is essential to our progression. Without this knowledge, we could not receive of God’s “fulness,” because we would lack an understanding of what that “fulness” includes.

How do you see God? What is His relationship to you? When you pray to Him, what mental image do you have of Him? What is He like? I’ve found that the way I think of God at different points in my life directly affects my relationship with Him, how willing I am to trust Him, and my ability to exercise faith in Him.

Sometimes we tend to think of God like we think of the paramedics—we only call on Him if there’s an emergency. Nothing of us have anything against the paramedics, and we’re glad they’re there in case we need them, but we don’t call 911 at the end of the day, just to chat. When we think of God like we think of the paramedics, we pray sincerely only in times of great trouble or sorrow. We pray that He will intervene and fix our problems, and we believe that He will answer our prayers, but we don’t see much use for God when things are going well. The Lord described this attitude, saying, “In the day of their peace they esteemed lightly my counsel; but, in the day of their trouble, of necessity they feel after me” (Doc. & Cov. 101:8).

Sometimes we tend to think of God as the Giant Vending Machine in the Sky—we figure that if we do the right things, insert the right change, blessings will immediately pop out the slot at the bottom. After all, we’ve earned them. We’ve kept the commandments, done 100% of our home teaching, and didn’t God say, “I the Lord am bound when ye do what I say?” (Doc. & Cov. 82:10). It’s tempting, really, to think of binding God and working our way to heaven—it makes life seem as if it’s in our control.

Sometimes we tend to think of God as the Great Avenger. We keep the commandments out of fear of punishment. We overemphasize God’s justice to the exclusion of His mercy. We imagine that He’s angry at us, that because of our brokenness, He could never love us, could never be pleased with us. We see our sins in stark contrast to the perfection He expects, and feel ashamed and guilty. We remember reading that “the Lord cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance,” but forget that the next verse contains the promise, “Nevertheless, he that repents and does the commandments of the Lord shall be forgiven” (Doc. & Cov. 1:31-32).

Mormon identified this tendency to misrepresent God’s attributes as a new kind of idolatry. And he’s right. If we worship a god who is not the one true God, even if we call him by the same name, we are in essence worshipping a false god, a god that we have “imagined up unto [our]selves,” a god with no power to save (see Mormon 9:10,15).

In the spirit of avoiding idolatry and of coming to know the God we worship, let’s explore some of the terms the Lord uses to refer to Himself. The Lord doesn’t describe Himself as an ambulance driver or a vending machine—He calls Himself a shepherd—the Good Shepherd. Like any good shepherd, Christ “giveth his life for the sheep” (John 10:11). The Psalmist wrote, “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul” (Psalm 23:2-3).

But if the Lord is to fill the role of shepherd, we must be His sheep. A fellow blogger has pointed out recently how unpopular it is in our culture to be considered a sheep. We label people “sheep” when they blindly follow a leader (generally a leader we disagree with) without independent thought. But Jesus wasn’t asking us to blindly follow. He was asking us to be familiar enough with His voice to be able to distinguish it from the other voices that call to us, to follow His voice because we know Him and trust Him. Speaking of a good shepherd, He said, “the sheep hear his voice: and he calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out. And...he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him: for they know his voice. And a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him: for they know not the voice of strangers” (John 10:3-5, emphasis added).

Our decision to follow Christ, then, isn’t a matter of blind obedience. It’s a matter of familiarity with and trust in the voice that calls to us. It isn’t a matter of being pushed or prodded in the right direction, for the Good Shepherd leads from the front, and He is followed by those who know His voice. Alma taught that Christ calls to us with His own name, and if we recognize that name because we have taken it upon ourselves, then we will hear His voice and follow it, and will become His sheep, “the good shepherd doth call you; yea, and in his own name he doth call you, which is the name of Christ; and if ye will not hearken unto the voice of the good shepherd, to the name by which ye are called, behold, ye are not the sheep of the good shepherd” (Alma 5:38). The Lord told Alma that those who were baptized in His name would be received by Him, “And he that will hear my voice shall be my sheep; and him shall ye receive into the church, and him will I also receive....And whomsoever ye receive shall believe in my name; and him will I freely forgive...For behold, in my name are they called” (Mosiah 26:21-24).

Each person who “shall be found at the right hand of God...shall know the name by which he is called; for he shall be called by the name of Christ ...remember also, that this is the name...that never should be blotted out, except it be through transgression; therefore, take heed that ye do not transgress, that the name be not blotted out of your hearts...Remember to retain the name written always in your hearts, that...ye hear and know the voice by which ye shall be called, and also, the name by which he shall call you. For how knoweth a man the master whom he has not served, and who is a stranger unto him, and is far from the thoughts and intents of his heart?” (Mosiah 5:9-13).

It is comforting to me to know that the Good Shepherd doesn’t keep a book of the names of His sheep, blotting out the names of those who have gone astray. Instead, He calls us all by one name—His own name. We are His, not based on whether we are good enough to have our names written in His book, but rather on whether we are humble and faithful enough to retain His name written in our hearts. The ball is completely in our court. He will continue to call to us. Will we hear His voice?

“For behold, in my name are they called; and if they know me they shall come forth, and shall have a place eternally at my right hand” (Mosiah 26:24).

For The Kingdom of Heaven's Sake

2010-02-27T10:32:00.000-08:00

The nineteenth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew records a number of Christ's teachings relating to entrance into the kingdom of heaven. In each case, some of those who followed Him found His sayings to be hard to bear.

The Pharisees asked Jesus whether divorce was permissible, and Jesus told them that even though Moses had allowed a provision for divorcing a wife, God's desire was to have married couples stay together, just as He had created Adam and Eve and commanded them to remain together and to "cleave" to each other. He allowed for divorce in the case of adultery, but otherwise, He said, divorce was not part of the plan of God.

His disciples responded, in essence, "well, if it's that difficult to divorce a woman if you don't like her, maybe it's better to not get married at all." But Jesus made it clear that the general rule, however difficult, was that men and women should marry and stay married, "He that is able to receive it, let him receive it" (Matt 19:12). But while affirming the general rule, Christ allowed for an exception: some men, He said, were eunuchs, and weren't candidates for marriage in the traditional sense.

Eunuchs, men who had been castrated before puberty, often served as palace servants, advisers, or officials in Jesus' day. Rulers considered them ideal for such positions because, lacking the ability to have posterity, they wouldn't try to seize power and create their own dynasty. Denied the possibility of a normal marriage and sexual relations with a woman because of a condition forced upon them in childhood, without any choice on their part, these men seemed to fall outside the purview of the Adam-and-Eve story, and indeed all of religious law regulating marriage, divorce, and family life. In Jewish circles, eunuchs had no place. Unmarried men were considered loose cannons; since they were not bound by the civilizing influences of family life, they could not be trusted. Their community, in this respect, was much like our own, filled with a single-minded devotion to the nuclear family that gives rise to our oft-quoted accusation that an unmarried man beyond a certain age is a "menace to society."

But, as in so many other areas, Jesus didn't buy in to the stereotypes and expectations of His culture. He didn't feel threatened by those who didn't "fit the mold," whatever the reason. In fact, He identified three groups of people who, while beyond the pale of proper Jewish society, were not outside the reach of His love. “For there are some eunuchs, which were so born from their mother’s womb: and there are some eunuchs, which were made eunuchs of men: and there be eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven’s sake.” (Matthew 19:12).

According to the law of Moses, eunuchs were categorically forbidden from entering the temple and participating in the rituals that bound the people to one another and to their God (Deuteronomy 23:1). But, despite their condition, they were not rejected by the Lord. As Isaiah had prophesied, “neither let the eunuch say, Behold, I am a dry tree. For thus saith the Lord unto the eunuchs that keep my sabbaths, and choose the things that please me, and take hold of my covenant; Even unto them will I give in mine house and within my walls a memorial and a name better than of sons and of daughters: I will give them an everlasting name, that shall not be cut off (Isaiah 56:3-5). Though they could not take part in the blessings of family life or in the ritual observances that God had commanded, He promised that those who lived a holy life, who obeyed His commandments even in their particular difficulties, would not be denied any blessing in His sight. Their memorial before the face of God would be better than the posterity they might have had. Their exaltation would be greater than the religious positions they had been denied. Those who were “eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven’s sake” would never be forgotten before God.

The first Gentile convert to Christianity, an Ethiopian, was such a man. He read the scriptures, and humbly asked Phillip to teach him about Christ. “And as they went on their way, they came unto a certain water: and the eunuch said, See, here is water; what doth hinder me to be baptized?” (Acts 8:36). He was what you might call a “golden investigator,” a man who feared God, and knew that God had not forgotten him. In fact, the Lord sent an angel to instruct Phillip to go to a place in the desert where this man would be, as a sign to him and to the rest of us that the Lord will honor all who serve Him, whatever their race, nationality, or circumstance.

In our society, we lack this class of palace servants. So who are the eunuchs of our day? Some, the Lord said, were eunuchs “from their mother’s womb.” Perhaps these include those who suffer from birth defects, physical or mental handicaps that keep them from the activities and joys of normal life. Some, He said, are “made eunuchs of men.” Perhaps these include those who experienced childhood abuse and who still labor under its physical and emotional consequences, which shackle them and keep them from normal human intimacy. And finally, there are some “which have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven’s sake.” Perhaps these include those who experience unwanted feelings of same-sex attraction, and who, with the kingdom of heaven in mind, deny themselves the companionship they crave in order to obey the God they worship, who lead lives of holy surrender in a society rife with misunderstanding, “relying wholly upon the merits of him who is mighty to save” (2 Nephi 31:19).

It is my testimony that the Lord still loves—nay, especially loves—those whom the world hates—the outcast, the downtrodden, the poor, the misfits, the lepers, the ones who live on the fringes of society, who are rejected by their fellows. He is their God and they are His children. In His house they are loved. In His house they are given an everlasting memorial and a great name.

They should also be given these things in our houses, if we are to be the Lord’s people. The Lord asks His people to take in the outcasts, not only in their soup kitchens and in their hospitals, but also in their homes and in their hearts. He asks us to embrace, not to ostracize. His arm is always stretched out in mercy, and He calls us to follow His example. His last acts in mortality were to heal a man who came to arrest Him, to reassure a thief who hung beside Him, and to plead for forgiveness for the men who killed Him.

Later in the same chapter, Matthew recounts that Jesus was approached by a rich young ruler, a righteous man who had kept all the commandments from his youth. His question was also about the kingdom of heaven, “what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life?” (Matt. 19:16). He had kept all the commandments and had done nothing wrong—so Christ required only one thing of him, “If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me” (v. 21). This the young man was unwilling to do. Perhaps he justified himself, the way we do when we’re unwilling to make a great sacrifice. Surely, he thought, a large endowment will do? I have a lot of money in my bank account—perhaps I could start a homeless shelter for the poor! If I just give away all my money, they’ll only use it to buy booze, right? I’m noble for holding onto my wealth—it means I have more to give away! Why should I give away all my money and join this band of poor people following the homeless, wandering preacher? What good will that do?

The nobleman went away sad, and Jesus observed, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God” (Matt 19:24). Many attempts have been made in Biblical scholarship to explain away this extreme statement of the Master, with little success. The disciples in His day, too, were shocked, as they had been over questions of marriage and divorce, and asked, “Who then can be saved?” (v. 25) Christ answered: “With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible” (v. 26). We know that God can accomplish even this, and we can be sure that if a camel passes through the eye of a needle, that camel is going to look very different on the other side. It’s the same way with us.

The more I get to know Jesus, the more He turns my life on its head and makes me question what I thought I knew. In His world, eunuchs have children, dead men talk, sinners are saved, camels walk through needles, poor men are made rich, and little children are the leaders. To bring about these great miracles, however, the sacrifice of all things is required, for “a religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things, never has power sufficient to produce the faith necessary unto life and salvation; for from the first existence of man, the faith necessary unto the enjoyment of life and salvation never could be obtained without the sacrifice of all earthly things” (Lectures on Faith 6:7). Some become poor in the world so that they can have treasure in heaven. Others become “eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven’s sake.” We each make sacred covenants in holy places that we will give the Lord all that we have, with the promise that “every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name’s sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life” (Matt 19:29).

Christ literally gave everything to obey the God He loved, to our eternal benefit. He asks the same of us. It is my firm testimony that for the kingdom of heaven’s sake, any sacrifice is worthwhile.

“Blessed is he that keepeth my commandments, whether in life or in death; and he that is faithful in tribulation, the reward of the same is greater in the kingdom of heaven. Ye cannot behold with your natural eyes, for the present time, the design of your God concerning those things which shall come hereafter, and the glory which shall follow after much tribulation. For after much tribulation come the blessings. Wherefore the day cometh that ye shall be crowned with much glory; the hour is not yet, but is nigh at hand” (Doc. & Cov. 58:2-4).

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Tell Me Why These Things Are So

2010-02-10T11:42:00.001-08:00

As mortals, whenever we run up against things we don't understand, we tend to start asking questions. Chief among these is the simple request for an explanation, "Why?" This inquisitiveness has led to countless scientific discoveries, as curious observers have sought to understand and explain their world.

We have the same tendency in other areas of our lives--we want life to make sense. We want events to fit into nice little boxes with the proper "Cause" and "Effect" on the labels. We want to understand our world's many complexities. Maybe then we can have more control over our lives. Maybe understanding all the reasons would help us feel less like our lives are meaningless conglomerations of random chance. Maybe we would feel less powerless in the face of history's fateful unfolding.

When a child dies or a plane crashes, when we're diagnosed with a debilitating illness or suffer a devastating blow, our anguished cries to the heavens often begin with, "Why?"

Why? Why me? Why this? Why now? Why, God, why?

I've noticed that God doesn't seem particularly interested in answering my "Why?" questions. A quick poll of some close friends indicates it's not just me. And when I turned to the scriptures, I realized that it's a long-standing habit of God's.

When God showed Moses a vision of the world, Moses' question was also, "Why?", and it went unanswered. "And it came to pass that Moses called upon God, saying: Tell me, I pray thee, why these things are so?...And the Lord God said unto Moses: For mine own purpose have I made these things. Here is wisdom and it remaineth in me" (Moses 1:30-31). To paraphrase, God was saying, "I created the world for my own reasons, and I'm not inclined to share them with you just yet."

Isaiah quoted the Lord, who told His people, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways...For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts" (Isaiah 55:8-9). He doesn't think the way we think, and doesn't feel bound to explain his thought processes to us.

The book of Job records the story of a man who "was perfect and upright, and one that feared God, and eschewed evil" (Job 1:1). Cursed with the loss of all his earthly possessions, his children, his health, and finally, the loyalty of his friends, Job pleaded with God for answers, demanding an explanation for his suffering. Certain of his righteousness, and sure that his punishment was undeserved, Job used legal language in his fierce insistence on an explanation, wishing "that we might confront each other in court. If only there were someone to arbitrate between us...I will say to God: Do not condemn me, but tell me what charges you have against me" (Job 9:32-33,10:2, NIV). Job noted the unfairness of his treatment, citing examples of wicked men who live in peace and wealth, undisturbed by the God they mock, while Job, who kept the law with exactness, was left with a life in shambles, rejected by his community and bereft of all his property. He pleaded for understanding, for the Lord to point out his sin, asking the Lord, when he could find no answer within himself, "Why?"

"Summon me and I will answer, or let me speak, and you reply. How many wrongs and sins have I committed? Show me my offense and my sin. Why do you hide your face and consider me your enemy?" (13:18-25) "If only I knew where to find him; if only I could go to his dwelling! I would state my case before him and fill my mouth with arguments. I would find out what he would answer me, and consider what he would say" (23:3-5). "Oh, that I had someone to hear me! I sign now my defense—let the Almighty answer me; let my accuser put his indictment in writing" (31:35).

For thirty-six chapters of the book of Job, Job's friends rebuked him for his supposed sins, and Job defended himself against their accusations and bemoaned his fate. And through it all, Job searched for an explanation, declaring each law he had kept, each commandment unbroken, repeatedly asking the Lord why he had been punished, while all around him the wicked prospered--Why, God? Why this? Why now? Why me?

I read his story again not too long ago, and found myself rooting for Job. Even though my mind knew that Job's trials were the Lord's way of testing his faithfulness, I still found myself sympathizing with his pleas--Why, God? Why do the wicked prosper while the righteous mourn? Why all the suffering in the lives of the innocent? Why have you structured the world this way? Why do my prayers go unanswered, my petitions unheeded? Why did you heal the centurion's son but not my loved one?

I found myself straining for the answer. Surely, God would answer Job, the "perfect and upright" man? And perhaps, in that answer, I could find some modicum of peace in the painful confusion of my own world.

In the last chapters of the book of Job, God spoke to Job "out of the whirlwind" (38:1), saying, "Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone... Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth...when I said, 'This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt'?

"What is the way to the abode of light? And where does darkness reside? Can you take them to their places? Do you know the paths to their dwellings? Surely you know, for you were already born! You have lived so many years!" (Job 38:2-22, NIV)

The Lord went on, speaking of His omniscience, which stood in stark contrast to Job's feeble mortal understanding: "Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail?...What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed, or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth? Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain, and a path for the thunderstorm?...Can you bind the beautiful Pleiades? Can you loose the cords of Orion?... Do you know the laws of the heavens? Can you set up God's dominion over the earth?... Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, 'Here we are'?
"Who endowed the heart with wisdom or gave understanding to the mind?" (Job 38:23-36).

Throughout the rest of His discourse, the Lord listed many natural phenomena, asking Job if he could explain or control the forces of nature, the animals, the planets, and the stars. The Lord's demonstration of power is impressive, and in the end, Job repented of his folly, and recommitted himself to serve the Lord. The Lord chastised Job's friends, who had condemned him, and declared that Job had been righteous, an affirmation that must have been reassuring to a man condemned by his brethren. The story ends with Job living "happily ever after," when "the Lord gave Job twice as much as he had before" (Job 42:10).

And yet...

And yet, most strikingly, the Lord never answered Job's question. In the end, all that Job had and more was restored to him, but Job never got to know the Lord's reasons for inflicting his punishment. The Lord never answered Job's plea for understanding, and Job and his audience are still left wondering, "Why?"

It's a singularly unsatisfying conclusion to the account of a righteous man with a profound, heartfelt, plea. And yet it's instructive for all of us, when our prayers go unanswered. It teaches us that questioning the Lord's motives is ultimately fruitless. It teaches us that because the Lord's knowledge is infinite, and His love is perfect, we can have confidence in His direction of our lives and His custody of our souls, even when we cannot understand His ways or fathom His purposes.

Christ, on the cross, marveled that His Father would leave Him alone during His time of greatest need, that the God He had served would abandon His Only Begotten Son to die a shameful death in utter loneliness. His last plea on the cross was a cry for an explanation--"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34). Why, God, why?

But at that anguished cry, the heavens again were silent, and the Son of God, the Creator of worlds without end, died without an answer.

And yet we continue to ask. Why should we expect what our Lord went without? "The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?" (Doc. & Cov. 122:8). Do we think ourselves greater than the Master we serve?

So why doesn't the Lord answer our "why?" questions? That's a bit of a circular inquiry, to be sure, since it is also a "why?" question. But let me take a crack at it anyway.

A friend suggested to me a reason, and as I’ve thought it over, I’ve recognized the merit in his idea. He observed that if every part of life made perfect sense, if we could see the end from the beginning, if we could have a perfect understanding of the Lord's purposes in shaping us as He does, it would eliminate the need for us to exercise faith in Him. It would be too simple. We would already see the wisdom in the Lord's plan, and the only rational thing to do would be to submit willingly, with a perfect knowledge of the outcome. Faith would be lost, and spiritual growth would go with it. In the words of Alma, "there are many who do say: If thou wilt show unto us a sign from heaven, then we shall know of a surety; then we shall believe. Now I ask, is this faith? Behold, I say unto you, Nay; for if a man knoweth a thing he hath no cause to believe, for he knoweth it" (Alma 32:17-18).

The Lord denies us this knowledge so that we have the chance to rely on Him in faith, a chance only available to us if our "why?" questions are left unanswered, for "faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true" (Alma 32:21).

Until that day, let’s trust Him. Let us go forward in faith, with confidence in the Lord’s plan for each of us, trusting in “the word of Christ with unshaken faith in him, relying wholly upon the merits of him who is mighty to save” (2 Nephi 31:19). As we do so, our power will increase and we will come to know the Savior for ourselves, "that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope; that we may be purified even as he is pure" (Moroni 7:48).

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Faith To Be Healed: Part III

2010-02-06T13:07:00.000-08:00

Our faith, like Zeezrom’s, must not be a belief that the Lord will spare us from death or affliction, but rather a turning of our lives over to Him, a conforming of our wills to His. The Lord left His peace with His apostles of old, commanding them, “let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27). Such an attitude toward the trials of life is only possible with faith in the Lord’s power to heal. When He left, Christ did not promise to take away all sicknesses or temptations—in fact, He told his disciples that they would suffer tribulation—but He did promise to grant His peace, to heal His children, to make them whole (John 16:33).

The Lord likewise promised the people of Limhi healing, although he did not immediately take away their trial. Said He, “Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for…I will…ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while ye are in bondage” (Mosiah 24:14, 15, emphasis added). In this instance, the Lord healed His children by giving them strength to submit to His will. He didn’t immediately free the people from their Lamanite oppressors, nor did He cease requiring them to bear heavy burdens, He simply gave them the strength to bear up under those heavy loads. The trial was still there, but the hurt was gone, and their captivity became a growing experience in submitting to the will of the Lord, rather than an unbearable hardship that made them bitter and angry.

In our lives, the Lord does not always calm the stormy seas, although He can. He doesn’t always take away our sicknesses and hurts, although that too is within His power. Sometimes He lets the storms rage and calms His children. Elder Richard G. Scott explained, “It is important to understand that His healing can mean being cured, or having your burdens eased, or even coming to realize that it is worth it to endure to the end patiently, for God needs brave sons and daughters who are willing to be polished when in His wisdom that is His will” (Richard G. Scott, “To Be Healed,” Ensign, May 1994, 7).

When we have the faith to be healed we understand that the Lord has His eye on us and His hand in our lives, and, relying on His guidance, we yield our wills to His and accept the comfort—the wholeness—that only He can give. We rely on the assurance borne of the Spirit that the Lord can heal us, that He will make us whole and restore that which was lost through the actions of others, the happenings of life, or through our own disobedience. We submit to His will, and we follow the example of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, who expressed their faith that their God could deliver them from the fiery furnace, “but if not”—if the Lord had other plans—still they would be true, because their trust in the assurance written in their hearts that God knew and took care of them was enough to overpower their fear of death (Daniel 3:17-18).

Malachi and Nephi both prophesied that the Lord would arise “with healing in his wings” (Malachi 4:2; 2 Nephi 25:13). Throughout the Bible, wings are used as a symbol of power, and are found only on heavenly beings. The Lord explained the image of the winged beasts in the book of Revelation, saying that “their wings are a representation of power, to move, to act, etc” (D&C 77:4). Wings provide an escape from enemies, serve a powerful mode of transportation, and display one’s beauty and glory. Wings covered the mercy seat in the ancient temple, (Ex. 25:20) and were used as a symbol of divine protection throughout the writings of the prophets. Wrote the Psalmist, “How excellent is thy lovingkindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of thy wings” (Psalm 36:7).

The Lord Himself tells His children on numerous occasions that He is inclined to gather them, “even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings,” (Matthew 23:37 etc.). In matters of sin, the Lord is able to stand between us and the demands of justice because His perfect sacrifice atones for our sins, and through our obedience and faith in Him He is able to extend to us His mercy, His shield, His covering. The original text is instructive in this matter; the Hebrew word for atonement, “kaphar,” also means “to cover, as with pitch” (See Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible, Hebrew # 3722, p.1405 ) Through His Atonement the Lord covers us, protects us, and fills in the gaps that otherwise would let in anger, despair, and sin—that which would sink our souls in the stormy seas of life. Our faith in Him and in His Atonement will enable Him to heal us with those same powerful wings with which He covers us.

But just as chicks who refuse to hear the voice and accept the protection of their mother cannot be gathered, so we must pay the price for our rejection of His sacrifice. The Lord’s words to Joseph Smith on this matter were simple yet powerful: “For behold, I, God, have suffered these things for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent; but if they would not repent they must suffer even as I” (D&C 19:16-17). Repentance, the second principle of the gospel, is an outgrowth of faith, and both are required to be made free from the bondage of sin (Articles of Faith 1:4). In order for the Lord to gather, cover, and heal us, we must believe in Him, have faith in Him, and trust Him with the direction of our lives and the completion of our souls.

The Lord asks us today, as He asked the Nephites two millennia ago, “O all ye that are spared because ye were more righteous than they, will ye not now return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?” (3 Nephi 9:13). If we turn to Him in faith, His eternal promise is that He will heal us—that He will make us whole.

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Faith To Be Healed: Part II

2010-02-03T11:27:00.000-08:00

The forgiveness of sins and the physical alleviation of suffering, whether in this life or in the next as an eternally perfected and glorified being, are conditioned on faith and together constitute being made “whole,” or being truly healed. The Lord’s words to Enos are indicative of this dual meaning—“Enos, thy sins are forgiven thee…because of thy faith in Christ, whom thou hast never before heard nor seen…wherefore, go to, thy faith hath made thee whole” (Enos 1:5, 8). Ten lepers were “cleansed” of their sickness through obedience, but only the one who recognized and had faith in the power of his Healer was made whole (Luke 17:12-19). The Greek word here translated as “whole” is sōzō, which indicates its spiritual implications. Sōzō means “to save, rescue, deliver; to heal…to be in right relationship with God, with the implication that the condition before salvation was one of grave danger or distress.” (Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible, Greek # 4982, p. 1535. [Kohlenberger and Swanson, 2001, Zondervan Grand Rapids, Michigan]) Clearly the wholeness available through the power of God extends to both physical and spiritual ailments.

James, in teaching this principle, asks, “Is any sick among you? let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord: And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up; and if he have committed sins, they shall be forgiven him” (James 5:14-15). James here clarifies this process of becoming whole, noting that those whose desire and faith to be healed compels them to request the administration of the priesthood will not only receive physical blessings but will be reconciled to God as well.

This power of healing, made possible through Jesus Christ and claimed through our faith, is stronger still. Through that power, not only can we be relieved of sickness and forgiven of sins; we can also have our natures changed and so be made free of the natural man that inclines us to pit our will against God’s. Isaiah testified of Christ, that “with his stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). In other words, because Christ willingly submitted to the indignities of his mortal torment and was in all things obedient to the will of His Father, He has the power to mold our wills to His, to “take away the stony heart” and give men “a new heart…a heart of flesh,” to change us so that we “have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually” (Ezekiel 36:26; Mosiah 5:2).

Christ became subject to the infirmities and temptations of a mortal body, and, having overcome the power of the devil, is able to free us from his bondage. Wrote Paul, “For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:15). Because Christ has overcome His flesh, He has obtained the power to subdue the natural man within us. Through His Atonement, He took upon Himself not only the penalties for the sins of all mankind, but also the sins themselves, the natural man that makes us enemies to God. Through the Atonement, Christ not only enabled us to become “at-one” with God; He also became “at-one” with us. He suffered the aggregate agony of the incompleteness of fallen man, and, having overcome all things, has and ever will have the power to make us whole.

Jesus Christ has the power to heal us, quite literally, of everything. He can heal every hurt, every sickness, every heartache, and every sin. The Lord’s healing power can, by our faith, be invoked, “upon a world afflicted with greed and contention, upon families distressed by argument and selfishness, upon individuals burdened with sin and troubles and sorrows.” (Gordon B. Hinckley, “The Healing Power of Christ,” Ensign, Nov. 1988, 52) Through faith, everything that is incomplete—bodies, souls, relationships, and nations—can be made whole by the very same power, the infinite and eternal power of a God’s atonement. Indeed, the One who created all things, descended below all things and has risen above all things can surely make all things whole (D&C 63:59; 88:6, 41; Ephesians 4:10; Mosiah 5:15).

Of necessity the Lord conditions His healing upon our faith—our trust in the assurance given by the Holy Ghost that His Atonement really does cover everything, and that its power really can make us whole. He asks us to believe on His name, even the name of Jesus Christ, which literally testifies that, “The Anointed One, Jehovah saves.”

From Alma’s interview with the critically ill Zeezrom we learn an important principle—that faith to be healed is not a mere belief that God can or will free one from sickness, but is rather a reliance on the assurance of Christ’s divinity and power. This reliance on and testimony of Christ is what bestows power unto healing. Jacob spoke of the acquisition and basis of this powerful faith, saying, “We search the prophets, and we have many revelations and the spirit of prophecy” (Jacob 4:6). The spirit of prophecy, the scriptures tell us, is “the testimony of Jesus” (Revelation 19:10; Alma 6:8). Jacob continues, describing the power that this testimony bestows: “And having all these witnesses we obtain a hope, and our faith becometh unshaken, insomuch that we truly can command in the name of Jesus and the very trees obey us, or the mountains, or the waves of the sea” (Jacob 4:6). Jacob makes clear that access to the Lord’s power over nature—in which must be included the health of the body—is available only through an unshakeable faith in Him.

Said Alma to Zeezrom, “If thou believest in the redemption of Christ thou canst be healed” (Alma 15:8). Immediately after his physical recovery, Zeezrom was baptized and thus made whole by the same power and through the same faith that had been the condition of his miraculous cure (Alma 15:12).

So it is in our own lives. Faith to be healed provides a power unto physical healing if it is the Lord’s will that we be healed. As He revealed to Joseph Smith, “it shall come to pass that he that hath faith in me to be healed, and is not appointed unto death, shall be healed” (D&C 42:48, emphasis added). There are, of course, those with exceeding faith who die due to ailments that the Lord has the power to cure. Elder Talmage explained, “Not always are the administrations of the elders followed by immediate healings; the afflicted may be permitted to suffer in body, perhaps for the accomplishment of good purposes, and in the time appointed all must experience bodily death.” (James E. Talmage, The Articles of Faith, p. 205 [Deseret Book Company, SLC, Utah, 1984]) But even those who die possessing this great faith are healed, for these are they who do “have…hope of a glorious resurrection” (D&C 42:45). To these the Lord promises that they “shall not taste of death, for it shall be sweet unto them” (D&C 42:46).

Joseph Smith was one such man, of whom the Lord proclaimed, “they shall not hurt him, although he shall be marred because of them. Yet I will heal him, for I will show unto them that my wisdom is greater than the cunning of the devil” (3 Nephi 21:10). Although the Lord allowed the Prophet to be murdered by a mob, he was received into heaven and is a “partake[r] of all blessings which were held in reserve for” him (D&C 138:52). One could not ask for a greater healing than, in death, to be taken back into the presence of God and receive of His fullness. Thus comes the Lord’s injunction; “fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul” (Matthew 10:28).

Likewise, we should not lose faith because of the sometimes inexplicable power of those sicknesses which kill the body. Despite our physical impairments, which may or may not persist throughout this life despite our exceeding faith, the exercise of our faith to be healed will always lead to a spiritual nearness with God, a repair of a repeatedly broken relationship with our Creator, and a newness of life. And if in faith we endure to the end of our course, “a crown of righteousness” awaits us in the eternal rest of the Lord (2 Timothy 4:7-8).

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Faith To Be Healed: Part I

2010-01-31T18:29:00.000-08:00

The Lord’s healing of both our physical and our spiritual afflictions is conditioned upon our faith in Him and made possible through His Atonement, in which He took upon Himself the pains and sins of all mankind. Having overcome all, the Lord gained the power to allow us to do the same, if we would but rely on the witness of the Holy Ghost, who testifies of Him.

Faith: A Definition

Faith is a conviction of and firm reliance on the existence, efficacy, and applicability of the saving power of God. It is a gift given by God through the Spirit to His children in order to help them to center their lives in Him (D&C 46:19; 1 Corinthians 12:31). Faith is a gift of the Spirit that bestows the assurance of that which is unseen (Hebrews 11:1). This assurance is intangible but nonetheless real (Alma 32:35). It gives us power borne of certainty and inspires us to action, to experimenting upon the word of God, by which we gain a perfect knowledge of its truthfulness (Alma 32:34).

Faith is a principle of belief, of action, and of power (See Lectures on Faith, 7:2). President Boyd K. Packer described faith, saying:

"There are two kinds of faith. One of them functions ordinarily in the life of every soul. It is the kind of faith born by experience; it gives us certainty that a new day will dawn…It is the kind of faith that relates us with confidence to that which is scheduled to happen… There is another kind of faith, rare indeed. This is the kind of faith that causes things to happen. It is the kind of faith that is worthy and prepared and unyielding, and it calls forth things that otherwise would not be. It is the kind of faith that moves people. It is the kind of faith that sometimes moves things… It is a marvelous, even a transcendent, power, a power as real and as invisible as electricity. Directed and channeled, it has great effect." (Boyd K. Packer, "What is Faith?" "Faith" [Salt Lake City: Desert Book Co., 1983], p. 42, emphasis added)

Faith to be healed is included in this second type of faith. Such faith draws upon and channels the powers of heaven to restore lost physical and spiritual strength. Faith gives us both the assurance of healing and the means whereby that healing is accomplished.

Faith to be Healed

Throughout Jesus Christ’s earthly ministry, He, through faith, made the afflicted whole, forgave sins and alleviated suffering. He commended the centurion for his great faith that his servant might be healed, proclaiming, “I have not seen so great faith, no, not in Israel” (Matthew 8:10). To the woman with an issue of blood whose faith that “If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole” drove her to experimenting upon that witness of the Spirit, Jesus proclaimed, “Go in peace…thy faith hath made thee whole” (Mark 5:23, 34). Zeezrom, close to death, was healed by the same power, “according to his faith…in Christ” (Alma 15:10).

The healing power of Christ is available on the earth today through the authority of the priesthood. Although the miracles of modern medicine can do much to prolong and improve life, they cannot consistently guarantee healing. The power of man is limited, but the power of God transcends and overcomes all things. President Gordon B. Hinckley testified that, although doctors can do much, “The mighty Creator of the heavens and the earth and all that in them are has given to His servants a divine power that sometimes transcends all the powers and knowledge of men" (Gordon B. Hinckley, “The Healing Power of Christ,” Ensign, Nov. 1988, 52).

The Lord is able to provide relief from physical suffering, even when mortal capabilities are insufficient. During His time in mortality, He “went about doing good,” causing the “dumb to speak, the maimed to be whole, the lame to walk, and the blind to see” (Acts 10:38, Matthew 15:31). This same power to do good, to heal the sick in the name of Jesus Christ, is available today through the administration of those holding the Melchizedek Priesthood. The faith to be healed and its companion, the faith to heal, are gifts of the Spirit given to those who need and earnestly desire them, according to the power and mercy of God (D&C 46:19-20).

But the Lord’s healing was, and is, extended to more than physical ailments, for Christ has the power to heal souls, to “make whole,” to reconcile the sinner with God, to make life complete. The Lord speaks to Isaiah of the sinfulness of His people, comparing it to physical illness: “The whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint. From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it, but wounds, and bruises, and putrifying sores: they have not been closed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment” (Isaiah 1:5-6). In our day, President Hinckley also spoke of this less recognized but more debilitating ailment, saying, “there is much of sickness among us other than that of the body. There is the sickness of sin.…Legion are those who have testified of the healing power of Christ to lift them from the desolation of sin to higher and nobler living" (ibid.). As ancient and modern prophets testify, Christ can heal sicknesses of the body and those of the soul. The Savior taught the Nephites of the consequences of sin, warning them that, “whoso eateth and drinketh my flesh and blood unworthily eateth and drinketh damnation to his soul,” but cautioned his people against passing judgment, “for ye know not but what they will return and repent, and come unto me with full purpose of heart, and I shall heal them” (3 Nephi 18:29, 32). If the Lord can heal the repentant who have knowingly partaken of damnation, He will surely extend that healing to those whose transgressions carry less serious consequences.

To the man sick of the palsy, Christ first proclaimed, “Son, thy sins be forgiven thee”—and only afterwards did He command him to “rise, take up thy bed, and walk” (Mark 2:5-9). Both healings were performed, however, only after “Jesus saw their faith” (Mark 2:5). The Lord’s coupling of the two healings teaches an important lesson—that healing one’s body from sickness and healing one’s soul from sin are both done by the same power, through faith in the infinite and eternal power of His Atonement. Christ asked the observing scribes to consider “is it easier to say to the sick of the palsy, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say, Arise, and take up thy bed, and walk?” (Mark 2:9). The unspoken answer is a definitive no, for both proclamations are made possible by the same power, and both are equally easy—or, more precisely, both are equally hard. The forgiveness of sins and the alleviation of sickness were made possible by the Atonement, the most difficult act ever performed, the act that endowed the Son of God with the greatest power in creation. Through that power, “all things are possible,” but only “to him that believeth” (Mark 9:23).

Fire In My Bones

2010-01-12T16:35:00.000-08:00

The prophet Jeremiah spent much of his ministry being persecuted by the people he was called to teach. He was imprisoned by his people, and when they were destroyed as he had predicted, he was forced to flee with them into Egypt, where he was stoned to death.

Jeremiah had reason to be discouraged about his ministry, especially since he didn't seem to have a single convert. He had reason to quit, to tell God, "Look. I'm not getting anywhere. Do you mind if I stop this pointless exercise and go live out the rest of my life in peace somewhere? Why do I always have to be in the middle of this mess?" But he couldn't seem to shake the compulsion he had to speak the words that God had given him. He wrote,

But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot. (Jeremiah 20:9, NIV)

Jeremiah continued his mission despite the hardships he faced, because he knew the truthfulness of the words God had given him. He knew it with such fervor that it was like a fire in his bones. I've felt like Jeremiah lately. No, I haven't been imprisoned by a hostile people or spent decades preaching against idolatry, but I've felt a powerful witness of the living reality of the Son of God, and the truthfulness of His gospel. It is, in a very real way, like a fire in my bones. It is uncontrollable and inescapable. It is warm and bright, but not tame--it burns with a wild might, a consuming passion, an everlasting flame. I do not completely understand it, but I know it to be true.

C.S. Lewis explained his communion with God in this way: “I pray because I can’t help myself. I pray because I’m helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time — waking and sleeping. It doesn’t change God — it changes me” (The Weight of Glory). That's how I feel about the gospel--it changes me, in a way that no self-help book or psychological program could. My knowledge of the truth flows out of me, waking and sleeping, crying and laughing, certain and doubting, sinner and saint. It's simply true. And because of that inconveniently wonderful fact, I choose to exercise my faith and trust in the things I do not understand. Yes, living the gospel is a choice, but not a capricious or random one--having examined the alternatives, I choose it because it's the only one that makes any sense. And so I choose to let the Lord teach me and guide me, shaping me into the person He wants me to be. I choose to trust His ways and His timing, though patience does not come naturally to me.

I choose to answer as Peter did, when the Lord asked His disciples whether they would forsake Him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life. And we believe and are sure that thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God" (John 6:67-69). I do it because Jesus Christ is my Redeemer, my Savior, my Master, and my King. Because He fills me to overflowing. Because He brings me peace in a world that makes so little sense. Because He moves with power to succor me, to reclaim a life out of balance, to enfold me in the arms of His love, to drive me to extend the same grace and mercy to the rest of His children, to reflect His light into their lives.

Because His gospel is like a fire in my bones, and I am weary of holding it in. Indeed, I cannot.

Picture from http://blog.ning.com/

This Is Zion--The Pure In Heart

2010-01-04T14:07:00.000-08:00

Some time ago, a friend asked me a question that I couldn't answer (see, it does happen =). He set the stage by giving the scriptural definition of Zion--"The pure in heart" (Doc. & Cov. 97:21). Then he asked--if by "build Zion" the Lord just meant "be good people--be pure in heart," why couldn't He just have commanded us to be pure in heart? What is it about the command to build Zion that is new or different from the other commandments we've already been taught to obey? What is it about the concept of Zion that has inspired prophets throughout the ages? Simply put, Why Zion?

I didn't have a good answer at the time. But his question has occupied my mind a great deal this past year. I've thought a lot about Zion--what is Zion? How do we build it? And, most fundamentally, "Why Zion?"

Zion societies have been established a few times in scriptural history. Perhaps the earliest and most successful was the city of Enoch, which, because of great righteousness, was taken up into heaven. Of Enoch's city, Moses recorded, "And the Lord called his people Zion, because they were of one heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness; and there was no poor among them" (Moses 7:18). Similarly, the people of Fourth Nephi had no social classes, and held their goods in common with their neighbors (1:24-25).

The Lord's commandments regarding the establishment of Zion in our day often include references to the ordinances of the temple: "Therefore...your anointings, and your washings, and your baptisms for the dead, and your solemn assemblies...in your most holy places...and your statutes and judgments, for the beginning of the revelations and foundation of Zion...are ordained by the ordinance of my holy house" (Doc. & Cov. 124:39, emphasis added). The ordinances of the temple, He says, are necessary for the foundation of Zion.

Why is this? Perhaps because the ordinances of the temple draw us together as a people. They involve selfless service for the living and the dead. They unite us in ritual and in communion with the divine. They invite us to live more fully the law of consecration, a law whose stated purpose is the establishment of Zion.

Zion, in whatever age or land it has been established, has always been characterized by unity and the elimination of poverty. Its foundations are always undermined by pride, competition, and the seeking of power, title, and prestige above one's neighbors. Early church members were admonished for polluting their inheritances in Zion by their "jarrings, and contentions, and envyings, and strifes, and lustful and covetous desires" (Doc. & Cov. 101:6). The unity required of the inhabitants of Zion was absent, and so it could not be established.

I think "unity" is the fundamental answer to the question, "Why Zion?" Simply put, the strength of Zion is in community--that is, Zion can only be established in concert with other people. I've always been more of a solitary person myself--it's not that I don't like people, it's just that it's easier to do things myself, because I can be sure I'll do them right. I'm naturally more focused on my own spirituality, growth, and priorities than on others'. But this isn't what God had in mind when He asked us to build Zion, because Zion isn't a collection of individuals--it's a cohesive society, built up of people who are holy individuals but are also united with their neighbors, and so have achieved a level of celestial living not possible to achieve in the solitary state to which they are most accustomed.

The commandments are easy to endorse in the abstract, but harder to obey with the people among whom we live. The commandment to build Zion is a sanctifying principle, because Zion is a consecrated people--not just a group of good people. Those who establish Zion are God's people--they are a holy people. Their covenants tie them, not only to God, but also to each other. They "impart of their substance," not just to God through their tithes, but also, "as becometh saints, to the poor and afflicted among them." They are "united according to the union required by the law of the celestial kingdom" (Doc. & Cov. 105:3-4).

They are true to their covenants and faithful in all things. And though they love imperfect people imperfectly, they are always striving together for God's perfect love. Christ wants us to be holy individuals, but He is not coming back to receive a collection of individuals--He is coming to receive Zion, a holy people, united in common purpose, dedicated to the service of God and of each other.

God wants us to come back to Him, but He's not content to have us do it alone. He wants us to come back to Him with those we love, and with those we have learned to love as we have taught each other and carried each other, as we have seen in each other's eyes and felt in each other's hearts supernal glimpses of the Divine.

The building of Zion is a hands-on activity. It is intimate. It is personal.

It involves loving our neighbors. But the sort of love it requires isn't just a lack of antipathy, a warm-fuzzy respect for all humanity, or a somewhat-distant good wishes directed at people you don't know. Zionic love is specific, and it means getting your hands dirty and your shoulders wet with another person's tears. You cannot truly say that you love your neighbor if you do not know his name, his needs, his struggles, and his triumphs. Zion is not built by declarations of universal love delivered from the pulpit. It is built by mourning and rejoicing with our neighbors. It is built with casseroles delivered and toilets cleaned for a family with an ailing parent, with bucket brigades hastily assembled when an elderly man's basement floods, with odd jobs offered to neighbors who are out of work by those who know their situation, with asphalt shingles hammered onto a widow's leaking roof on a Saturday morning by men and women with their own house projects constantly demanding their time.

It involves caring for the poor. But the sort of care it requires isn't just a general well-wishing towards those who are less well-off. It isn't just giving a check to the bishop for fast offering or donating to the Salvation Army. Zionic care is personal and specific. It involves getting your hands dirty and your wallet a lot lighter. At Judgment, the Lord will say to His ransomed children, "For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in, [I was] naked, and ye clothed me" (Matt. 25:35-36), not "I was hungry and naked, and you gave money to the bishop, and he fed me and gave me vouchers to get castoff clothes at DI. And when I had no job, I went to LDS Employment Services, and they helped me with my resume and interviewing skills. And when I was homeless, I slept at a homeless shelter built with your tax dollars." All the programs, organization, and charities with which we are involved are good. But the care and love required by the "law of the celestial kingdom" go so much further. In order to care for the poor we must know the poor. How many "poor" people do you know? How many have eaten at your table? Zion is not built solely by those who mail checks to charities. It is built by ordinary people who go out of their way to help those in need, by those who realize the absurdity of having a spare bedroom in their house while there are people sleeping on the cold streets, by people who aren't content to keep the poor at a distance and speak disparagingly about the blight of "welfare moms," but who rather see all people, no matter their social class, situation, or choices, as children of the same God, as their literal brothers and sisters, and who let their newfound sight motivate them to truly Christian action.

Zion is built by drawing circles around ourselves that take others in rather than shutting them out. It is built by radically transforming the way we look at the world, by adopting the self-sacrificing love demonstrated by Jesus in Gethsemane, who gave literally everything He had for those who didn't deserve it, who poured out His life for broken, imperfect people, and then commanded His followers to "Go, and do thou likewise" (Luke 10:37).

It is within out power to heed this command. It is within our power, with God's grace, to build Zion in our homes, in our wards, in our neighborhoods and our communities. It will take a transformation of our hearts, a change in our very natures, a radical commitment to something much bigger than ourselves, a resolve to live the law of consecration completely. But, as with all commandments, the Lord will prepare a way for His children to accomplish what would otherwise be impossible (1 Nephi 3:7). He has given us Zion as a goal to work for, an ideal to strive for, a concrete plan for buiding a prototype heaven on earth.

Brothers and sisters, let us build Zion. Let us live so as to be worthy inhabitants of that Holy City. Let us pray for God's Spirit to transform us , to make us new creatures. Let us see our neighbors as God sees them. Let us allow that newfound sight to motivate consecrated, holy action. Let us put aside our differences and become a united people. Let us become God's people.

Let us build Zion.

"And righteousness will I send down out of heaven; and truth will I send forth out of the earth...and righteousness and truth will I cause to sweep the earth as with a flood, to gather out mine elect from the four quarters of the earth, unto a place which I shall prepare, an Holy City, that my people may gird up their loins, and be looking forth for the time of my coming; for there shall be my tabernacle, and it shall be called Zion, a New Jerusalem" (Moses 7:62).

The Bedrock of My Faith

2010-01-02T11:50:00.000-08:00

This has been quite the year. A strange year, really--filled with hope and heartache, dreams fulfilled and dreams deferred, distressing questions and life-changing answers, hearty laughter and silent despair.

It's been a roller-coaster, really. I've learned a lot and loved a lot, developed a little more patience and a lot more understanding. And through it all, there's one thing I've held onto. It has been my anchor during the hard times and my banner during the good times. It is the thing I cannot dismiss. I cannot crawl over, under, or around it (Jeffrey R. Holland, “Safety for the Soul,” Ensign, Nov 2009, 88–90).

It is the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ. It is true. I have examined many arguments for its origin, and can find no credible explanation except the one Joseph Smith gave. It is of God.

The Book of Mormon testifies of truth in simplicity. It is a light in a dark world. It fulfills the most heartfelt wish of Christians--to know that Jesus Christ lives and ministers to His children. I know it is true. And that knowledge opens up a whole world of corollary knowledge. The Savior told us that "ye shall know them by their fruits," and this fruit is good. I know, therefore, that its translator was a true prophet of God, that the Church and Kingdom he set up is of God, and that the ordinances of the gospel are those of our loving creator.

There are many things of which I am unsure. There are many places where my faith is weaker than it should be. But this much I know: the Book of Mormon is true. It is the word of God and its translator is a prophet of God. There is a power in that book that is not in other books of scripture. Every time I read it, I am filled with the knowledge of its truthfulness. I know it in a way I can't explain. I can't reason my way out of it. Even when I'm upset, or confused, or shaking my fist at the heavens--even when I am struggling with a particular doctrine or a troubling issue, I cannot deny that the Book of Mormon is true. It is the word of God. There is a power in that book that flows into my life when I feast on its words, just as President Benson said. The power is real. It cuts into the chaos and gives me a glimpse of a wonderful peace. It has been my anchor in the blackest moments of my life. It has brought me to Christ, when He was all I had to hang onto. It is the bedrock of my faith, the keystone of my testimony of Christ. I thank God for that wonderful book, that beautiful testament of my Savior Jesus Christ.

To request your own copy of the Book of Mormon, you can visit mormon.org.
Picture from http://centerformoralliberalism.files.wordpress.com

Born in Our Hearts

2009-12-24T17:47:00.000-08:00

Tonight we celebrate the birth of a baby in a land far from our own, at a time and place distant from our own experience.

Earlier this year, I visited that land, and went to Bethlehem, to the grotto that was the place of our Savior's Nativity. That evening, I sat in the Shepherd's Field outside the town, and looked up at the stars from my spot on the cold, stony ground. I imagined what it must have been like for the shepherds, who were sleeping in the fields with the sheep, because it was lambing season, who heard the choirs of angels announce that the Lamb of God had been born.

Bethlehem is a very different place today than it was when Christ was born. It lies behind a separation wall, dozens of feet tall and topped with barbed wire, guarded by soldiers with guns. It is not a town that Mary and Joseph would recognize.

Two millennia ago, a child was born in that tiny town. His mother gave birth in a dirty, smelly, stable, far away from her home. She wrapped her infant son in rags, and placed Him in a feeding trough to sleep. He was welcomed by shepherds, the homeless men of His day. They were poorly groomed and fit in with the rest of the decor--after all, they had been sleeping in a field night after night. It was some welcoming committee for a young virgin bride.

But her child, miraculously, was the living Son of the living God. He partook of our humanity and thus gave us His Divinity. And in coming in such humility, being born in such low circumstances, the peasant child of a captive people, Christ showed us that no depth is too great for Him to reach us. We are not exempt from His offer of salvation, no matter how low our circumstance, no matter how awful our sin, no matter how great our pain. Christ has shown that He does not mind dirty stables. This year, may we let Him be born again in our hearts. And in doing so, may we also be born again, and become new creatures in Him.

Merry Christmas!

That The Works of God Should Be Made Manifest

2009-12-06T16:57:00.000-08:00

The Gospel of John records an interesting series of events. One morning in the temple, the scribes and Pharisees brought Jesus a woman taken in adultery, "in the very act," and asked for His judgment against her. Jesus caused the mob to withdraw, ashamed, with something He wrote in the dirt, and with the words, "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her" (John 8:7).

Jesus then proceeded to give a discourse on light and darkness, sin and judgment, His impending death, and His Messiah-ship. When the crowd questioned Him, Christ declared His divinity, which enraged them, and they sought to kill Him for blasphemy, "Then took they up stones to cast at him: but Jesus hid himself, and went out of the temple, going through the midst of them, and so passed by" (John 8:59). It is in this setting that His next great miracle takes place.

"And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth. And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind? Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him" (John 9:1-3).

The disciples assumed that the man's ailment was caused by some sin--either his own or his parents'. But Jesus set them straight--no sin had been committed here--the man had been born blind so that in him, God's works could be shown.

We tend to think of the disciples' worldview as primitive, but is ours really that different? Modern psychology and psychotherapy, especially among the various Freudian schools, are convinced that all ailments are caused by one's parents--your mother was too overbearing, your father too distant or cruel, you didn't develop proper attachment to or detachment from your parents, etc.--or oneself--you're neurotic, you're avoiding reality, you have a complex of some sort. So parents of children with problems feel that their poor parenting must be to blame, while their children blame their own actions.

Sometimes they're both wrong.

Sometimes the pains, the secret heartaches, the afflictions visible and invisible, the "thorns in the flesh" that we experience, are not the result of our own sin or our parent's sin. Sometimes the works and glory of God are being manifest in us.

"When he had thus spoken, he spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and he anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay, And said unto him, Go, wash in the pool of Siloam...He went his way therefore, and washed, and came seeing" (v. 6-7).

The Pharisees questioned him about the source of his miraculous healing, unwilling to give the credit to Jesus, who, they said, had broken the Sabbath day. They questioned the man's parents, who were hesitant to take a stand, but the man born blind knew the source of his healing. When the Pharisees instructed him, "Give God the praise: we know that this man is a sinner. He answered and said, Whether he be a sinner or no, I know not: one thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see" (v. 24-25).

What a beautiful summation! "One thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see."

There are so many things I don't know. I don't understand the Lord's designs, His purposes, or His timetable. I don't understand the pain, the afflictions, and the blindness, that He causes or allows to remain in the lives of those who love Him. But one thing I do know with certainty--that whereas in the world I was blind, now, through the grace of God, I see.

I see the Lord, creator of worlds without end, born to a peasant couple, members of a captive nation, laid in a manger, raised as the carpenter's son. I see His miracles, His life, His love, His example. I see his Atonement, His great sacrifice, and His glorious resurrection. I see His light, shining upon and filling a world overcome with sorrow and darkness. I see His all-consuming love, His transformative power, His redemptive glory.

And I rejoice to see the works of God being manifest in me.

Picture from http://jonathangroover.files.wordpress.com

The Publican's Prayer

2009-11-15T20:26:00.000-08:00

Luke records a parable spoken by Jesus to a group of men "which trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others" (Luke 18:9), probably the Pharisees of His day. It begins,
"Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican" (v. 10).

The publicans, in Christ's day, were the tax collectors, traitorous Jews who colluded with the occupying Roman authorities. They were seen as corrupt and hated by the other Jews of their day. The Pharisees were the respectable people, the doctors of the law, the scholars and teachers.

"The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess. And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner." Then Jesus gave the moral of this story, "I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted" (Luke 18:11-14).

Something snapped inside of me this month. Maybe it was when a friend made a hateful comment about my worthiness. Maybe it was just a lot of built-up irritation at living in "The Bubble" for too long. In any case, I realized that so much of what was bothering me, and what I had been learning the past few years, could be summed up by this parable of the publican's prayer.

I recently wrote about how tired I am of philosophies that divide the world into "us" and "them," that shut others out while vaunting ourselves, that allow "family values" to trump Christian charity. It is in this spirit that I write about my own inadequacy and unworthiness. As was the case with Joseph Smith, "in making this confession, no one need suppose me guilty of any great or malignant sins. A disposition to commit such was never in my nature" (JS-H 1:28). After all, we are all sinners, all in need of Christ's infinite Atonement. I think we all recognize that, at least mentally. But one of the most frequent errors we make (and I'm certainly guilty of this, from time to time) is to believe, in some small, perhaps unspoken, part of us, that "of course we all need the Atonement. I just need it a little less than most, thank you very much. I'm doing pretty well on my own." How incredibly presumptuous!

Maybe that's why I like sinners so much. I've had the opportunity to mix with some communities of very broken people, people who only came to their senses when they hit rock bottom and realized how much they needed their Savior. Whatever other problems they may have, they've been honest with themselves about what a big mess they've made of their lives. They sincerely want to change but know that they will need a power greater than their own to conquer the demons of each day. They are acutely aware of their reliance on their Redeemer. They have callused their knees in prayer. They have broken hearts. They are acquainted with the Lord in their extremities. My two favorite books about the Atonement (see here and here) are written by such people. Their challenges may be peculiar to them, but their understanding of the power of the Atonement is universally applicable. They realize in humility the truth that many of us try to avoid--we all need the Atonement, and we need it desperately.

I remember talking to such a friend one night. Despairing because of the mess he had made of his life, my friend was only beginning his journey toward understanding the true meaning of the Atonement (as, I suppose, we all are). "We're all sinners," I told him, as we talked about that great gift. He scoffed. "But Amy," he said, "my sins are so much bigger than yours." I hesitated. And then, the Spirit bore a powerful witness to me, and I began. "No, John. Both of our sins separate us from God. They keep us both from enjoying His love as fully as we could. Our sins differ in degree, not in kind." In the following months, I learned the truthfulness of those words.

There is a lot of humility required to admit that we are all "prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love." It's hard to admit that we're broken, profoundly damaged, not just superficially wounded. But the scriptures continually testify that the Atonement is not a Band-Aid for a flesh wound, it is a quadruple bypass for a stony heart. And it is that heart that must become new in order for us to return to our Heavenly Father. It is that heart that must be given to the Lord, wholly and without reservation. It is that heart that must be carried into the land of Moriah, and left there on the altar.

This is not easy. But it is sweet, and oh, so necessary. God can only give us a new heart if we are willing to give up the old one. It is easy to imagine that we can obey the gospel, and do all the right things, and thereby become good people, better versions of ourselves, but still retain our own natures. It is easy, but it is wrong.

I am beginning to understand that the Lord requires more than that, but that what He offers in return is infinitely more than I had imagined. He offers His holiness. He offers exaltation. He offers blessings beyond our comprehension. As He told His children in an earlier time, "Ye cannot behold with your natural eyes, for the present time, the design of your God concerning those things which shall come hereafter, and the glory which shall follow after much tribulation" (D&C 58:3). He offers to make us saints through the Atonement of Christ, but only if we are willing to put off that which is natural and normal and and corrupt, and put on that which is eternal (see Mosiah 3:19). And we cannot do this without admitting that what we are is so far below what God wishes us to be that only the infinite Atonement of the Infinite One can save us. The people of King Benjamin learned this, and "viewed themselves in their own carnal state, even less than the dust of the earth." Only then could they all cry "aloud with one voice, saying: O have mercy, and apply the atoning blood of Christ that we may receive forgiveness of our sins, and our hearts may be purified; for we believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God" (Mosiah 4:2). The Lord gave them what they asked for, and they experienced a "mighty change of heart" (Mosiah 5:2). They felt to sing the song of redeeming love (Alma 5:26).

And so have I. Not because I am so very worthy, so very good, so very righteous, for I am a sinner. I am redeemed, not on my own merits, but "because of the righteousness of [my] Redeemer" (2 Nephi 2:3). I am saved because of His love and His holiness, not my own. And having caught a glimpse of that great love, that infinite holiness, and my own carnal state, my own tendency to wander from my God, my heart cries out in the words of a beloved hymn, "Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it for Thy courts above."

For, in the words of the publican, God has been merciful to me, a sinner. (Luke 18:13).

Allahu Akbar!

2009-11-04T17:08:00.000-08:00

Each morning, a haunting voice calls over the ancient city of Jerusalem from green-painted minarets scattered throughout its neighborhoods. Its plaintive cries echo across the sleeping homes of that timeless land. For weeks, I awoke each morning before dawn, with that voice ringing in my ears, and heeded the call to prayer on my balcony, overlooking the holy city. Even today, though I have left that beautiful land, its cries still echo in my heart. The cry from the minarets is simple but powerful, filled with a deep longing and a firm resolve. "Allahu Akbar!" it begins: God is most great, or God is greater.

This month I once again remember an event some years ago that was a watershed for me in my spiritual development. It hurt more than anything in my life ever had. It forced me to face some of my greatest fears. It drove me to my knees. It taught me to rely on the Lord, to trust in His mercy, and to feel of His great love.

I have recently had the lessons of that struggle repeated, and been humbled. I have seen the hand of the Lord guiding me, shaping me into the person He wants me to be. It has not been easy--I am stubborn and not easily shaped. My creator's medicine is, as ever, a bitter pill to swallow. In tasting it, I am reminded of Joseph Smith's words to the early Saints, "God will feel after you, and He will take hold of you and wrench your very heart strings." He wasn't kidding.

What I learned many years ago, and what I have learned many times since, is that there are some experiences that only the Lord understands, some paths that only He has walked, some roads that have no earthly map. To travel these paths requires great faith in the Lord, and at times I have had to walk in darkness, unsure of my footing, unable to see, with my natural eyes, the way ahead. My prayers have become more earnest as I have learned to quiet my heart so that I can listen for the Lord's voice up ahead, still and small but insistent and penetrating.

This deep stillness of soul comes only after earnest prayer and searching. It brings with it a quiet humility, a firm resolve, and a power beyond what I had imagined possible. It fills me with love. It allows me to be taught of the Lord and to receive "the peace of God, which passeth all understanding." It radiates through my being and leaves me speechless, gasping in wonder.

I have felt some portion of what Enos described: "The words which I had often heard... concerning eternal life, and the joy of the saints, sunk deep into my heart. And my soul hungered; and I kneeled down before my Maker, and I cried unto him in mighty prayer and supplication for mine own soul" (Enos 1:4). And in the stillness, the Lord spoke to Enos, in words that must have filled him with unspeakable joy: "Enos, thy sins are forgiven thee, and thou shalt be blessed." Trusting in the assurance that he had received, Enos records that "my guilt was swept away." And then, filled with wonderment and awe at the total transformation that had taken place, he asked for understanding of the power he had just witnessed, "Lord, how is it done?" When I imagine this scene, I see Enos, his eyes filled with tears of overwhelming joy, whispering his question in complete astonishment, baffled at the mighty change that had transformed his heart and satisfied his soul's deepest hunger.

And the Lord's simple answer was, as it has always been, "Because of thy faith in Christ, whom thou hast never before heard nor seen...wherefore, go to, thy faith hath made thee whole" (v. 5-8). I have tasted some portion of that great wholeness, and I testify that it is far more than a story. The "mighty change of heart" that can and must take place in each of us through faith in the Savior really IS "mighty." It is so utterly removed from the ordinary that its power is stunning and breathtakingly beautiful. Confrontations with such miraculous divine power cause us to exclaim, as did Moses, "Now, for this cause I know that man is nothing, which thing I never had supposed" (Moses 1:10). We sense in some measure the grandeur of that which is beyond us, but mercifully within reach.

Enos learned, that day in the forest, of the Lord's miraculous transformative power. He learned what the minarets daily proclaim to the world in joyful solemnity--Allahu Akbar! God is most great, or God is greater. Today I stand with him as a witness that the power of God is greater than any trial we may face. It is greater than the storms that rage about us, the billowing deep that threatens us, the powers of evil that oppose us. It is greater than sin, greater than death, greater than our infirmities, and even greater than our hearts. When my soul has hungered, when my heart has cried out for relief, I have felt the Lord's comfort in the painful stillness. I have been taught miraculous truths from on high and endowed with a power beyond my own. I have felt the Lord's transforming power and felt to say with Enos, "Lord, how is it done?" To describe this glorious reality, I have no adequate words.

Our trials may wrench our very heart-strings, but we have the assurance that God will be with us forever and ever (Doc. & Cov. 122:9). "For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee" (Isaiah 54:10). No matter what I may face in the days ahead, the cry from the minaret will always echo in my heart--Allahu Akbar! God is greater.

Picture from http://www.twainquotes.com/

Preaching Christ Crucified

2009-10-15T16:39:00.000-07:00

Several months ago, as I walked into a meeting, my boss, who is also LDS, looked at me with a puzzled expression, and then, pointing to my necklace, asked, "Uh...are you wearing...a cross?"
"Yes," I replied, simply.
With a bemusedly quizzical tone he asked, "WHY are you wearing a cross??"
My reply was again simple. "Because I am a Christian."

You see, friends, I wear a cross. Outside the Mormon world, that's not an uncommon thing for Christians to do, but inside the Mormon world, it just doesn't happen. We have no crosses on our buildings, in our chapels, on our temples, on our priest's clothing, in our homes, in our artwork, or around our necks. If you ask a Mormon why that is, he'll probably say something about how "we worship the living Christ, not the dying Christ," or, "if your best friend died from a gunshot wound, would you wear an image of a gun on your necklace and mount another on your wall?" You see, we're great at coming up with after-the-fact explanations for why we do what we do, when the real reason is "uh...it's Tradition."

Most early Mormon converts came from Quaker and Campebellite backgrounds, and from other churches of their ilk They were anti-papist and iconoclastic, accustomed to un-ornamented meeting halls and services that lacked the pomp and ceremony of other high-mass churches. When they changed denominations, they didn't change worship styles, and thus our worship styles--and attitudes toward the cross--were born. Had the early Church drawn mostly Catholic converts, our worship would be very different, though the Church would still be just as true.

So why do I break from tradition? For one, because I don't think there's anything very holy about this custom. For another, I like the cross. It identifies me with Christians the world over. It's a public way of saying, "remember Jesus, who died on the cross? I believe in Him. I accept Him as my Savior. You should too." I think if Mormons used more crosses in their worship, they would face fewer accusations of "not really being Christians" from other denominations. And I think that sometimes we overlook the cross, eternally to our detriment.

I also wear a cross because it reminds me of the duties of a Christian. It reminds me that I ought to be kinder, slower to anger and judgment, quicker to extend mercy and understanding. I ought to be cheerful, inclined to serve, in tune with the pain in the eyes of my brothers and sisters, and desirous to heal it. I ought to have more faith, more hope, more charity. I ought to forgive more and judge less. I ought to be a better example of the believers (1 Timothy 4:12).

I wear a cross to remind me of the triumph and resurrection of Christ. You see, the cross is a gloriously triumphant symbol, for the cross is empty, just as the tomb was. Christ no longer suffers there, for He is victorious. The cross is what the early apostles preached, even though, to the enlightened minds of their day, it was utter foolishness to worship a God who had died in agony. Said Paul, "The Jews require a sign, and the Greeks seek after wisdom: But we preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumblingblock, and unto the Greeks foolishness; But unto them which are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God. Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men" (1 Corinthians 1:22-25).

In Paul's day, the cross was the symbol of ultimate mortal humiliation and defeat, and so it became a fitting throne for Him who had "ascended up on high, as also he descended below all things, in that he comprehended all things, that he might be in all and through all things, the light of truth" (Doc. & Cov. 88:6).

My cross reminds me of my duty to my Savior far more explicitly than a CTR ring ever could. It reminds me that one day I will stand before my God and give an accounting of how I lived, and who I loved. As Jesus reminded His Nephite disciples, "My Father sent me that I might be lifted up upon the cross; and after that I had been lifted up upon the cross, that I might draw all men unto me, that as I have been lifted up by men even so should men be lifted up by the Father, to stand before me, to be judged of their works, whether they be good or whether they be evil" (3 Nephi 27:14). It reminds me that because of Christ's sufferings in Gethsemane, His death on the cross, and His glorious resurrection, I can be drawn to Him, lifted up in my greatest agonies, that the same power that transformed the Lord's cross into His throne can convert my despair and my heartaches to transcendent, joyful song.

I, like Nephi, "glory in my Jesus, for he hath redeemed my soul from hell" (2 Nephi 33:6). And, in the words of Paul, "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world" (Galatians 6:14).

Dwelling in Love, Dwelling in God

2009-10-01T16:45:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: While I do not typically use this blog to discuss political issues or to fight the culture wars, I have made exceptions on a few occasions to weigh in on issues I felt strongly about. I ask for your understanding as I do so again. This is a post I have agonized over, and, in the end, have felt to express my devotion to my Savior by expressing my love for His children, especially for the downtrodden, reviled, and misunderstood among them. I do not mean to be overbearing or preachy, but I believe very strongly in the importance of the principles I discuss here.

In writing this, I have tried to soften my words, to find balance between the absolute truths of the gospel and the very real heartaches of those I love who struggle to find answers in the church I have come to love. Perhaps my greatest realization has been that I do not have all the answers. Many of my feelings are only partially-formed and even more partially-expressed. I pray for your patience as I share with you a piece of my journey. I hope that you will feel my sincerity as you read, and that perhaps as you do so, you will overlook with kindness my slowness of speech and my clumsiness in writing.

I used to be the sort of person who would debate anyone who disagreed with me. I would summon facts, arguments, philosophers, and studies that supported my view. I was always so sure that I was right that I closed my mind--and my ears. I listened to my opponent only long enough to find a point I could refute--and then I would refute it with a vengeance.

I am still a passionate woman. But I've softened a lot. And as I've softened, I've heard others espouse views I used to hold, muster arguments I used to trumpet, and I've cringed. I've cringed to think I could have been so insensitive, so clueless, so heartless. It pains me to hear opinions of which I used to be totally convinced, and to know the pain being caused by well-meaning people, spouting off about things they know nothing about, framing the world in black-and-white, drawing a circle around them and their rightness, unaware how many they had excluded from their circle. I have grown tired of "family values" constantly trumping true Christian charity.

I.

I had heard dozens of talks on the evils of pornography and masturbation. I had the audacity to condemn all people who committed such sexual sins. I imagined that they were all dirty old men, craven sinners, with no redeeming virtues.

And then I discovered that one of my close friends was a long-term porn addict. Another friend confessed the same weakness, and then another, and another. These were men I loved whole-heartedly. My paradigm was shattered. I saw the secret heartache that these men shared, and my heart broke under the weight of their pain, and of my own unkind judgment.

Pornography use is indeed a great sin. But, like all sins, it springs from the devil, and not from its victims. The pain it causes them is real. And though they are not blameless, they need our love, not our scorn. If we are to rescue our brothers and sisters from its deadly grasp, we have to work to destroy the atmosphere of shame that surrounds it, which stops those caught in its web from getting help for years. We have to let them know that they will not be shunned, no matter what they've done. We have to let our love for the sinner be greater than our disgust for their sin.

I no longer have the desire to march with a picket sign, protesting obscenity. I only have the desire to wrap those I love in my arms and hold them. I want to turn them toward the Savior--because ultimately He is the only one who can heal a broken world. He is the "light that shines in darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:5 NIV). He who would not condemn the woman taken in adultery will surely enfold His wandering children in the arms of His love. Let us take them by the hand, turn to the Master, and ask for His love. He will teach us the way out of any darkness, even the seemingly unconquerable darkness of sexual sin.

II.

I had homosexuality practically thrown in my face in high school. One school club seemed designed to foist its "gay pride" agenda on the student body. I cared little for political correctness in those days. I had been taught that homosexual "orientation" was a choice, and I believed that. I wrote vicious polemics attacking gay marriage. I scoffed to think that anyone could argue their "abominations" were somehow inborn.

And then I discovered that a childhood friend was gay. And then another, and another. I read about two Mormon guys, returned missionaries determined to keep the commandments, who nevertheless struggled with feelings of attraction that they did not choose. I went to firesides where other such men told their stories. I saw the pain in their eyes. These were all good men. Once again, my paradigm was shattered.

I'm still no proponent of same-sex marriage, or of any sexual relations outside the bonds of marriage. I still believe that, whatever our feelings or inclinations, we all have the power to decide what we will do, whether or not we will act on our feelings. But, having known and loved these good people, I cannot find it in my heart to condemn them. Having read evidence from many different sources, I have found no scientific or social consensus regarding the cause of these inclinations. I do not know if same-sex attraction is inborn or learned, whether it is fixed or can be changed, whether it is the result of genetics, defensive detachment, abuse, hormones, or defective family relationships. I simply do not know. But I know they did not actively choose their feelings. And I know that many homosexuals suffer in silence, hating themselves and afraid of the condemnation of their peers and their families. Many of them have done nothing wrong, but their pain and loneliness haunts me. They desperately need our love, not our scorn.

I no longer have any desire to loudly condemn those with homosexual orientations, for I believe they have nothing to be ashamed of. I do not even have the desire to condemn those who act out those inclinations, because their pain demands my love. As President Kimball said, "Jesus saw sin as wrong but also was able to see sin as springing from deep and unmet needs on the part of the sinner" (Ensign, Aug. 1979, 5). I only want to hold them tightly and whisper, "I'm sorry. I love you. And though I do not have all the answers, I know Someone who does." Let us take them in our arms, turn them toward the Master, and plead for His love. Let us plead for understanding, for the answers only He has, for the strength to love our brothers and sisters as He does.

III.

I was brought up to be physically and mentally self-reliant. I didn't have a lot of confidants, and I learned not to need them. I have generally had a great degree of control over my emotions, especially around other people. And I've usually been too practical to dwell too much on negative feelings, preferring to avoid thinking about things that cause me pain, and instead to channel my energy into coming up with practical solutions to difficult challenges. In that respect, I fit in well among other engineers, who are far more disposed to left-brain analysis and problem-solving than to group hugs or talking about their feelings. (Whether such an approach is emotionally healthy is a topic for another day.)

So I had trouble understanding depression and other emotional and mental illnesses. "So you're depressed," I thought. "Well, suck it up. Deal with it. Your life is not that bad. Quit whining." And then--you guessed it--I had a friend who was depressed. She was more than just sad--she needed anti-depressant medication to function. Then I found another friend, and then another, and another. It seems like half of my girl-friends and roommates have suffered from one emotional illness or another--Clinical depression, anorexia, bipolar disorder, insomnia, compulsive self-harm, anxiety disorders, and the list goes on. Their illnesses have not been their own fault, though they often blamed themselves.

In many ways, it's easier to have a physical illness than an emotional one. If you're fighting leukemia, no one tells you that you "just need to have more faith." If you were born with cerebral palsy, no one lectures you that you "just need to pray more." If your leg is broken, no one questions your worthiness or asks if you've been reading your scriptures. No one makes insensitive comments in Sunday School about how people with your condition are those described in the scriptures as being "possessed with devils."

Don't get me wrong--both physical and emotional illnesses are difficult trials to endure. But if we treated those with emotional illnesses the way we treat those who are sick in ways we can easily see, I think we would be fulfilling more fully our covenants to "bear one another's burdens, that they may be light" (Mosiah 18:8). Let us be careful not to smugly discuss things we do not remotely understand. Instead, let us hold our brothers and sisters close to our hearts, and with them turn toward the Lord, and pray earnestly for understanding and love.

IV.

The Lord said that when He came again, those whom He would greet with pleasure would be those who visited and cared for those who were sick and in prison (Matthew 25:31-40). There is so much of sickness and imprisonment all around us--so much pain, so much sorrow, so many wounds that need the healing balm that only the Savior can bring. There are so many hurting hearts that are wounded more deeply by our unthinkingly unkind rhetoric, our ignorant judgment, and our shame. So many of those we were sent here to love are leading lonely lives of quiet desperation, because we have not seen them as our brothers and sisters, so busy were we in vilifying those who most needed our succor.

Can we not do better? Can we accept the radically transformative call of Christianity to love one another, to embrace one another in bonds of unity and brotherhood, to offer an understanding and broken heart rather than a certain and stubborn mind?

I am convinced we can. And we must, if we intend this earth to be ready to receive her King when He comes in glory. It is only by being united as a people that we can be the Lord's people. For "if ye are not one," He tells us, "ye are not mine" (Doc. & Cov. 38:27).

This is not easy. It goes against our natural inclinations. But that is the call of Christianity--to put off the natural man and become saints through the Atonement of Christ (Mosiah 3:19). Through it, we become at-one with the Father, but we also become at-one with each other. As we are united with and show love for His children, we draw closer to and manifest our love for the Father.

If we wish to stand in holy places, we must stand together. We must draw circles around ourselves that take others in rather than shutting them out. We must hold each other close, and together turn toward the Savior, and plead for His love, for His strength, for His peace. He who commanded His disciples to "love one another; as I have loved you," (John 13:34) will surely help us as we answer His great prayer, "that they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us" (John 17:21).

"Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God...Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another...God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him...And this commandment have we from him, That he who loveth God love his brother also"(1 John 4:7-21).

Picture from http://www3.newport.ac.uk/

A Prayer for Yom Kippur

2009-09-29T09:43:00.000-07:00

Today is Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar. On this day, in ancient Israel, the high priest, dressed in simple white clothing and without his usual priestly finery, entered into the Holy of Holies and spoke the Ineffable Name of God, sprinkling blood upon the Mercy Seat, where the presence of God dwelt. In doing so, he made atonement for all of Israel, for the tabernacle, and for the world. He restored a right relationship with God, bringing together those who had been estranged through the blood of sacrifice.

Today, in synagogues throughout the world, Jews gather together before the Lord and recite the Kol Nidre prayer:

All solemn vows, all promises of abstinence and formulas of prohibition, and declarations of austerity, and oaths which bear a name of God, whatever we might have sworn and then forgotten, whatever earnest, well-intentioned vows we might have taken up but not upheld, whatever punishment or harm we might unwittingly have called down on ourselves, from the last Day of Atonement to this Day of Atonement, from all of them, we now request release: Let their burden be dissolved, and lifted off, and canceled, and made null and void, bearing no force and no reality.

They pray for forgiveness for thing they have done, and things they have left undone, for vows not kept, for harms inflicted, for rebellion and dissension, for failures to serve God as they ought to have done.

And today, I pray with them. For forgiveness for my rebellions, for my lack of understanding, for the oaths made in the name of God that I have not kept perfectly, for my failures and fallen-ness and fractious temperament, for the times I have not looked to the Lord as I should have. I pray for release for the punishment or harm I may have unwittingly called down upon myself or my loved ones. I pray for a release from burdens large and small, and for the strength to bear up the burdens that the Lord sees fit not to remove just yet. I pray for the ability to bear the burdens of others, and so in some small way to follow the Savior, who promised to make our burdens light.

I pray for renewed strength to follow the Master. I pray for greater understanding of His purposes, and for his aid in closing the gap between what I know and how I act. I pray that the blood of my Savior, the great and last sacrifice, might heal my broken heart, might grant me release, might mediate between me and the judgments of God, so that I might also part the veil and enter the presence of God, and stand clean before Him.

On this ancient holy day of atonement, my prayer—and my testimony—is centered on the redeeming power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I know that if we look to Him in faith, He WILL wipe away the tears from off all faces, swallow up death in victory, heal the wounded heart and transform the life in shambles, if only we will see His grace more than we fear Him. I pray that when I meet Him and prostrate myself at His feet, He will lift me to Him and hold my face in His wounded hands--those hands that created the universe, healed the sick, raised the dead, and carried a cross--and wipe away the tears from my eyes, and heal my broken heart. And then, I pray that my Savior will embrace me, and call me His own, and lead me by the hand back into the presence of my God. That is a day I would give anything to see.

Picture from http://judaica-art.com/images/

All Things Shall Work Together For Your Good

2009-09-20T16:45:00.000-07:00

The Lord commanded the prophet Lehi to prophesy to his people concerning the destruction of Jerusalem. Lehi was obedient, but the people were not receptive to his message. The Lord spoke to Lehi in a dream, and praised him for doing his duty. He told His prophet, "Blessed art thou Lehi, because of the things which thou hast done; and because thou hast been faithful and declared unto this people the things which I commanded thee, behold, they seek to take away thy life" (1 Nephi 2:1)

Did you catch that? The Lord told Lehi "Blessed art thou...behold, they seek to take away thy life." That sounds like a strange sort of blessing to me!

I find it interesting how different the Lord's perspective is from our perspective. Things that we now think of as great trials might someday, with an eternal perspective, be manifest as the richest blessings.

An elderly man in my ward who has been a friend of my family for years is in a care center with only days to live. Before his condition became critical, he would play bingo with the other residents to pass the time. Those who won each round would receive 10 cent coupons that could be exchanged for candy and other items at the gift shop. My littlest brother, when he went to visit this man, eagerly informed my mom that when he got old he wanted to live in THIS care center, too, so he could play bingo all day long and trade his winnings for candy. In his little mind, it hadn't occurred to him that the elderly people who live in such a place would gladly give up their bingo winnings for some of the youth and energy that he took for granted, or that great-grandparents probably place a much lower value on gift-shop candy bars than second-graders do.

I wonder if God doesn't sometimes look at us the way I looked at my little brother--with a kindly smile and a gentle assurance, "dear child, I know that your worldview might make sense to you now, but someday you will understand what really matters, you will see life from a higher plane, and you will realize what life is all about, you will see more and know more, and the things you experienced in this life will make infinitely more sense to you. Until then, please realize that all is not as it now appears to be."

All this is not to discount our struggles in this life, nor to belittle the very real pains and sorrows we must face, but it does give us hope that someday the things that we do not understand will be explained to us, that all will be right in the end, that eventually we will understand the meaning of all things. The sometimes-painful truths of our lives can be illuminated by him who "descended below all things, in that he comprehended all things, that he might be in all and through all things, the light of truth" (Doc. & Cov. 88:6).

Ether tells us that "whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God" (Ether 12:4). This better world is ours by covenant, as the Lord has stated, "Therefore, he giveth this promise unto you, with an immutable covenant that they shall be fulfilled; and all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord" (Doc. & Cov. 98:3).

The Lord's word is good. His promise is sure. And even when we do not understand, even when our perspective is limited, we can have faith that the infinite love of a perfect God will see us through the storms that lie ahead, and will guide us until we reach that better world, where we will be able to look back and see the Lord's hand in things we called trials as well as things we called blessings, and know that all things wherewith we have been afflicted have truly worked together for our good.

Picture from http://www.lindajlord.com/2009/01/

Greater Than Our Heart

2009-09-05T19:41:00.000-07:00

Paul, in his epistle to the Romans, speaks powerfully of adoption into the family of God through Christ.

"For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God. For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ" (Romans 8:14-17). Whereas before we were strangers, orphans, bondservants to sin, children without a father, now we are members of an eternal family, God's family. Through the Atonement of Christ, we become legitimate heirs, joint-heirs with the only perfect man to live on this earth. As such, we inherit all that our Father has.

The first epistle of John likewise speaks about becoming the children of God through the love of Christ, "Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God...and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him" (1 John 3:1-2).

One of Satan's most successful tactics is to obscure our divine nature, to make us feel worthless or unworthy of God's love. It was a trick he tried with Moses, saying, "Moses, son of man, worship me" (Moses 1:12). It is a trick he tries with you and me, saying, "You will never be good enough. You are dirty, you are unclean. God will never love you. You are not worthy." Sometimes we make the mistake of believing the adversary. We forget that he is the father of nothing but lies, while God is the Father of our souls. We allow our hearts to condemn us and thus fail to accept and bask in our Creator's great love.

John speaks of this tendency, and how to overcome it. He says, "My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth....For if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things. Beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence toward God (1 John 3:18-21).

God is greater than our heart. He knows all things. Even when we condemn ourselves, even when we fall, God does not condemn us. He wants us for His own. He has paid the price of the blood of His Son to redeem us. And, having paid that price, He will not desert us now. As Paul put it, "What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?...Christ...is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?...Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us" (Romans 8:31-37).

More than conquerors, he says. Because the Atonement, by which we conquer, was infinite for all mankind (2 Nephi 25:16), it is more than enough for us to prevail in whatever battle we fight. It is enough to make us more than conquerors.

"For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come. Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:38-39).

I, with Paul, am fully persuaded of the infinite and eternal power of the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. He is our Father. He loves us. And if our hearts condemn us, God is greater than our heart.

Thorns in the Flesh

2009-08-29T16:05:00.000-07:00

While Moroni was abridging the Book of Ether, he marveled at the powerful words of the Brother of Jared. Moroni worried that those who read his book would mock him for his awkward writing style and his clumsiness in expressing things of great spiritual import. When he brought his concerns to the Lord, the Lord told him not to fear. "Fools mock," He said, "but they shall mourn; and my grace is sufficient for the meek, that they shall take no advantage of your weakness" (Ether 12:26). He followed this promise with words that are consistently comforting to me. "And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them. Behold, I will show unto the Gentiles their weakness, and I will show unto them that faith, hope and charity bringeth unto me—the fountain of all righteousness" (v. 27-28).

The Apostle Paul, miraculously converted on the road to Damascus, relayed a similar experience in pleading with the Lord regarding his own weakness. "And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure. For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong" (2 Corinthians 12: 7-10).

Moroni's words--and those of the prophets whose books he abridged--are great and powerful, and have been translated into over 100 languages. It was Moroni who penned the beautiful promise that has led millions to pray and ask God and thereby gain a testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon (Moroni 10:3-5). Paul, who complained about his weakness, wrote most of the New Testament--including great discourses on faith, grace, charity, and the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

I have recently become more acutely aware of my weakness and inadequacy. But I take comfort in the Lord's words to His servants, "Wherefore, I call upon the weak things of the world, those who are unlearned and despised, to thrash the nations by the power of my Spirit; And their arm shall be my arm, and I will be their shield and their buckler and I will gird up their loins, and they shall fight manfully for me" (Doc. & Cov. 35:13). The Lord has promised to uphold, defend, preserve, and even strengthen those who serve Him, no matter their weakness. He has promised that through humility, weak things can become strong; that through the Atonement, all things can be overcome. "And by giving heed and doing these things which ye have received, and which ye shall hereafter receive—and the kingdom is given you of the Father, and power to overcome all things which are not ordained of him" (Doc. & Cov. 50:35). This He can do and He will do, if we will turn to Him. Our weak things will be made strong, and the thorns that pierce our flesh will draw us closer to our Savior who wore them as a crown.

"For the eternal purposes of the Lord shall roll on, until all his promises shall be fulfilled" (Mormon 8:22).

Picture from http://oneyearbibleimages.com/

Prayer Roll

2009-08-22T10:10:00.000-07:00

Several weeks ago, as I was leaving the Provo Temple, three women caught my eye. Still dressed in their temple clothes, they were standing at a table, writing names for the temple prayer roll [801-375-5775]. For some reason, I had trouble tearing myself away from the scene. The way they looked that night and the Spirit that hung around them has remained with me since then, and inspired this poem.

Prayer Roll

Had it been allowed
I would have snapped their picture
Buttoned it in my wallet
And taken it out when I needed comfort
The comfort of an eternity of women like me
Supplicating the God of the ages
Their lips murmuring the words
Like an ancient incantation

It was a common scene there
And should scarcely have warranted my notice
As I hurried past them into the fading light
Three women, their dark hair veiled in white
And their thoughts in mystery
Bent over their papers
Scrawling the name of one whose heart
Was joined to theirs in love
Dropping each slip into the box
And with it, a tiny prayer
Her heart’s whisper
Please, Father
Bless comfort heal restore defend uplift
Give life

I did not know each soul for whom they pleaded
But for many like them I had interceded
And at an altar sacrificed my will
Moments before

Had it been enough
To bless the lives of those I never knew
To call down angels to surround our circle?
To get the attention of Their Infinity
Enough to send down Heaven’s dew
And fill the water-pots we carried to our homes?

I could not know
But in my heart I stood beside these women
Reminded by their quiet green and white
Of the sorrows that must come
From the knowledge our first mother chose
And of the power they held within,
An eternal currency.

I saw them stand in ranks ten thousand long
Ten thousand times ten thousand, through the years
With women in all lands, they stood to pray
And pierced the clouds with their silent cries
Pleading for the ones they loved
As their mothers had, their grandmothers,
And back and back and back
I stood and saw their white-robed figures
Disappearing behind a thinning veil to converse
With the Ones who heard them ever.
And, watching, knew
I stood on holy ground.

Image from http://blogs.e-rockford.com/applesauce/files/

I Love To See The Temple

2009-08-07T18:38:00.000-07:00

When I was young, I often sang words familiar to any Primary child:

I love to see the temple,
I'm going there some day
To feel the Holy Spirit
To listen and to pray.
For the temple is the house of God
A place of love and beauty.
I'll prepare myself while I am young.
This is my sacred duty.

I still love to see the temple. I love to worship inside its walls. I love to listen and to pray, to dress in white and feel the Spirit that radiates from its hallowed halls. I love the feeling of peace that I find there, a stillness best described by Paul as "the peace of God, which passeth all understanding" (Phillipians 4:7).

I love the joy that fills the temple as heaven and earth meet and the veil grows thin. I love the power that rests on all who there prepare themselves to enter the presence of the Lord. I love the power of the priesthood that clothes all who worship at its altars. I love the ordinances that fortify me against the adversary's deception. I love the happiness that fills my heart as I go to the temple, the joy that lingers with me after I leave.

I love the temple. It is the house of the Lord. His glory fills His house. His presence rests there. His priesthood is exercised there. His children are taught there. His angels watch over and commune with all who make covenants there.

I urge you to go to the temple, to make yourself worthy and available to partake of the Spirit of that holy place. Truly it is a house of learning, of prayer, of order, of peace. It is the house of the Lord. Holiness to the Lord.

Picture from http://www.ldschurchtemples.com/nauvoo/gallery/images.

Being Made Whole

2009-07-20T18:53:00.000-07:00

Nephi, in what has become known as Nephi's Psalm, lists off the great things that the Lord has done for him:

"Behold, he hath heard my cry by day, and he hath given me knowledge by visions in the night-time...And upon the wings of his Spirit hath my body been carried away...And mine eyes have beheld great things, yea, even too great for man" (2 Nephi 4:23-25).

He then asks a question that I have asked myself recently,

"O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?...Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul?" (v. 26-27).

Why, indeed? When I have seen such great things, when the Lord has visited me in so much mercy, why should I allow Satan and the lies he spreads to have place in my heart to destroy my peace?

Yesterday, a friend asked me what changes I had noticed in my life as a result of a major decision I recently made. My answer was simple: I still have the same questions I always had. In fact, I have many more questions. There are many things I do not understand. But strangely, the questions I have excite me, instead of depressing me. My questions no longer disturb my peace and afflict my soul.

It is hard to describe the way I have felt lately. These past six months have been a rollercoaster of emotions and experiences, for me and for those I love. I have been driven to consider who I really am, and what I want to become. More importantly, I have reflected on whose I really am, and whose I want to become--and remain. I have considered the words of Nephi, "Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul" (v. 28). I have commited myself more fully to a path I always knew was the right one. In doing so, I have found a greater measure of "the peace of God, which passeth all understanding" (Philippians 4:7). I have found that the "enemy of my soul" no longer is given a place in my heart. I have once again tasted of the Lord's love and felt to proclaim with Enos, "Lord, how is it done?" And the answer is, as it always has been, "Because of thy faith in Christ...wherefore, go to, thy faith hath made thee whole" (Enos 1:7-8).

I have gained a greater understanding of what it means to be made whole. I used to think that being made whole meant being healed, or not being sick anymore. But I had forgotten the obvious meaning--to be whole is to be complete, to have all the pieces of your soul put back in place and welded together, to be unified in your heart instead of being fragmented and broken. Wholeness is more than not being sick--it involves being complete, unbroken, united. It requires divine grace to fill the "God-shaped hole" in each of us, to bind up our broken hearts and make us complete. I praise God for the wholeness He has given me, a wholeness only He could give.

"Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me" (Psalm 51:10).

The First Law of Heaven

2009-07-10T07:01:00.000-07:00

After Adam and Eve were cast out of the garden of Eden, they prayed for guidance from the Lord, and heard His voice, "And he gave unto them commandments, that they should...offer the firstlings of their flocks, for an offering unto the Lord. And Adam was obedient unto the commandments of the Lord" (Moses 5:5). Thus was instituted the practice of animal sacrifice. "And after many days an angel of the Lord appeared unto Adam, saying: Why dost thou offer sacrifices unto the Lord? And Adam said unto him: I know not, save the Lord commanded me" (Moses 5:6). The angel then explained to Adam the reason for the animal sacrifices he had been offering--they were a symbol of the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

Our first parents received a commandment. They obeyed the commandment. But it wasn't until "many days" had passed that an angel explained the reason for that commandment. And in the meantime, they had to be content with saying, "I know not, save the Lord commanded me."

There is great power in obedience, even when we do not understand the reason. Obedience to any law brings the blessings associated with that law. We know that "There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated" (Doc. & Cov. 1130:20-21). And, it follows, when we do not obey a law, we have no claim on its associated blessing (see Doc. & Cov. 82:10).

Saul learned this lesson the hard way, when he defied the instructions of the prophet Samuel in going to war against the Amalekites. Commanded to destroy every living creature, he and his soldiers instead "spared Agag, and the best of the sheep, and of the oxen, and of the fatlings, and the lambs, and all that was good, and would not utterly destroy them" (1 Samuel 15:9). When Samuel chastised him for his disobedience, Saul countered by insisting that he had saved the animals to sacrifice to the Lord. Samuel rejoined, "Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams. For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry." (1 Samuel 15:22-23). Because of his rebellion, Saul lost his kingdom--a heavy price to pay for a few plundered livestock. Saul had forgotten the sum of all commandments, given through Moses, "what doth the Lord thy God require of thee, but to fear the Lord thy God, to walk in all his ways, and to love him, and to serve the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul, To keep the commandments of the Lord, and his statutes, which I command thee this day for thy good?" (Deuteronomy 10:12-13).

The Lord has repeated this instruction in our day: "Behold, the Lord requireth the heart and a willing mind; and the willing and obedient shall eat the good of the land of Zion in these last days" (Doc. & Cov. 64:34).

Obedience requires submission, and submission is HARD. Well, it is for me, anyway. I'm pretty strong-willed and stubborn. I like to have a reason for things I do. I want my world to make logical sense.

Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I have questions that have no answers. Sometimes I'm asked to do something that is hard on me--physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually. Sometimes I wish there could be another way. Sometimes I wish the Lord would listen to my advice and do it my way.

When Christ prayed in Gethsemane, He admitted that He wished there could be another way. He admitted that He didn't want to do what the Father wanted Him to do. He admitted that His will was different from His Father's will. And this was not a sin, for in the same breath Christ made a choice--He chose to do the Father's will anyway (see Luke 22:42). And in doing so, He opened the way for mortals like me, who will readily admit a difference of will and a deficit of understanding, to submit our wills to God's and find peace thereby.

Though my "bitter cups" differ from the Savior's by orders of magnitude, I have found that when I have the humility required to say, "Though I do not understand why this must be, and though I do not like this, and though it causes me pain, I know that You have commanded it. I love You, therefore, I will do this thing," I find greater peace, strength, and hope than I thought possible. When I obey without knowing the reason, and allow myself to say, "I know not, save the Lord commanded me," I am blessed. Sometimes I come to understand the reason, often after "many days"--or years--of sincere and earnest seeking, and sometimes I realize that it will all make sense only in another world. But in each case, the Lord gives me His peace. Peace through the heartache, peace in the midst of the trial, peace in the storm, peace with the burden still on my back--a total and consuming peace that comforts and strengthens me. As I submit my will to His, I am given a great gift. It is an endowment of power from on high, a portion of the Lord's power to perform the Lord's will. It is a gift of knowledge and strength and understanding and grace and joy. It is a gift that is worth any price.

"And moreover, I would desire that ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, they are blessed in all things, both temporal and spiritual; and if they hold out faithful to the end they are received into heaven, that thereby they may dwell with God in a state of never-ending happiness. O remember, remember that these things are true; for the Lord God hath spoken it" (Mosiah 2:41).

My Soul Delighteth In The Scriptures

2009-07-02T21:37:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me well know that I am prone to answer gospel questions (or, really, any questions) by quoting some passage of scripture. This often frustrates those who would prefer me to answer in my own words. It's hard for me to explain the comfort I find in the scriptures. Perhaps (how's this for an ironic illustration of this principle?) Nephi said it best, "For my soul delighteth in the scriptures, and my heart pondereth them" (2 Nephi 4:15). I love the scriptures, and find joy in pondering them.

I love books. I read voraciously. I have an extensive library, and many books I love. But none of them have the same power over me; none of them call me back over and over again, offering me a glimpse of new insights and old friends; none of them bring more peace to my heart and joy to my soul than the scriptures. When I feel lost or alone, frightened or concerned, depressed, worried, or off-balance, I find solace in their words, words I have read scores of times before but have never grown tiresome, words that are comfortably old and familiar, yet everlastingly new and fresh, words that fill me up but always leave me wanting more. Their words reassure and console me, they inspire and uplift me, they challenge me to be better, to reach higher, to try harder. They teach me doctrines in plainness and in symbol, and principles in story and in song. They show me the reach of a Savior whose Atonement is both infinite and intimate, grand and sweeping in scope but quiet and personal in application.

The scriptures contain the word of God. I testify of their truthfulness. I cannot deny their power. They bring the companionship of angels (2 Nephi 32:3), protection from the deceiver (JS-M 1:37), hope and comfort (Romans 15:4), and wisdom unto salvation through faith in Christ (2 Timothy 3:15).

I invite you to recommit yourself to a study of the scriptures. As I have done this recently, I have felt the heavens draw near and have tasted of the Lord's peace. I know that you, too, will find strength, power, and comfort in their pages, that they will enlighten your soul and become delicious to you.

"He that hath the scriptures, let him search them" (3 Nephi 10:14).

Picture from http://www.geocities.com/DaveGarber1975/

Of More Importance Than They All

2009-06-26T17:25:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of important things in this life. Families are important. Having a source of income is important. Supporting one's community is important. Good friends are important.

There are a lot of important things in the gospel. Prophets are important. Scriptures are important. Accepting and magnifying callings is important. Family history and temple work are important. The priesthood is important.

Alma, in speaking to the people of Gideon, talked about the importance of living in accordance with the teachings of the Gospel. But he focused his sermon on a declaration that has always moved me, commanding his people to "look forward for the remission of your sins, with an everlasting faith, which is to come. For behold, I say unto you there be many things to come; and behold, there is one thing which is of more importance than they all—for behold, the time is not far distant that the Redeemer liveth and cometh among his people" (Alma 7:6-7).

And then, speaking of the Redeemer's mission, he said, "And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities. Now the Spirit knoweth all things; nevertheless the Son of God suffereth according to the flesh that he might take upon him the sins of his people, that he might blot out their transgressions according to the power of his deliverance; and now behold, this is the testimony which is in me" (Alma 7:11-13).

Alma was a powerful speaker who knew and taught the gospel with breadth and clarity. He doubtless knew and understood many important truths of the gospel. But one truth received the distinction of "most important"--that the Redeemer would live and come among His people, suffering their pains, atoning for their sins, and granting them power over death and hell according to the power of His deliverance.

I, too, have realized, time and again, that this glorious truth is the most important thing I could know, the most important thing I could study, the most important thing I could understand, the most important thing I could declare. It trumps all other doctrines, theories, or topics of interest as the single most salient fact in the history of the universe.

Speaking of this beautiful truth, Isaac Watts wrote,

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Indeed it does. Such wondrous love, such amazing grace, demands all that we have and ever hope to be. As King Benjamin told his people, " if you should render all the thanks and praise which your whole soul has power to possess, to that God who has created you, and...if ye should serve him with all your whole souls yet ye would be unprofitable servants" (Mosiah 2:20-21).

We don't serve God because we're doing Him a favor, or because He needs an advisor. We serve Him because we love Him, and we love Him because He first loved us (1 John 4:19). We serve Him because our hearts, humbled by such love, move us to an expression of thanks that is deeply sincere even though it is eternally insufficient.

Truly this is the most important fact in all eternity. Christ came to die for sinners--for us. In doing so, He reconciled the finite with the Infinite, the incomplete with the Complete, the fallen with the Exalted. He blots out our sins according to the power of His deliverance. Many things are important. But, with Alma, I proclaim that the Atonement of Christ is of more importance than they all. For, as it was in Alma, this is the testimony which is in me.

Teach Them Dilligently To Thy Children

2009-06-15T17:11:00.000-07:00

I recently overheard the story of a young woman, who was preparing to be endowed the following day in anticipation of her upcoming temple marriage. When she expressed some nervousness about the experience, her sister gravely counseled her, "Just remember, when the goat comes by, jump on it!" She was puzzled and hesitant, and wondered what she was getting herself into.

Of course her sister was joking. No goats (or any other animals) are involved in any of our temple ceremonies. But I believe that the fact that this young woman was able to be suckered into believing such a thing by her sister's offhanded comment indicates a fundamental problem with the way we think--and teach--about the sacred.

Mormons have a funny relationship with the sacred. Not given to levity, we strive to give sacred experiences and truths proper respect. Somewhere along the line, "respect" came to be synonymous with "silence," and we decided that sacred things ought to be completely secret, lest any unprepared "swine" defile our "pearls" with their uncouth speech.

I admire the reverence that began this trend, but I despise what has come of it. With no clearly drawn lines, our desire to show respect and avoid vulgarity has led us to avoid speaking of any aspect of sacred things (to the point that some are unwilling to discuss the color of the temple carpet!), and so has left us and our children unprepared for our encounters with the sacred.

We do the same thing when we teach our children about sex. Mormonism officially regards married sex as good, sacred, and holy. But practically, we're very Victorian about it, and our embarrassed silence is only reinforced by our recent emphasis on its "sacredness," since we can conveniently import the same hush-hush attitude that we use for all other sacred things, and use it as a justification for our embarassment. Any reference to sex is couched in so many euphemisms and analogies as to be utterly incomprehensible--"marital intimacy," "procreation," and "the birds and bees" being among the more intelligible ones I've heard. Discussions of sex with youth quickly degenerate into embarrassed winking from leaders, and repeated recitations of horror stories of nice young men and women who lost their virtue and thus ruined their lives irreparably. The emphasis is always on "DON'T!", and even when accompanied with some passing reference to the joys of married sex, the take-away message seems to be, in the words of Laura Brotherson, "Sex is dirty, nasty, evil, and wrong...so save it for someone you love!" Parents take their children out of sex ed, fearing age-inappropriate information. Their awkwardness prevents them from discussing the subject with their children. And then young brides and grooms get married without any understanding of or instruction in an activity that can be a strong welding link--or a divisive wedge--in their marriage, understanding little about the mechanics of sex except for the basic plumbing.

The parents and leaders are well-intentioned, of course, but the life-long problems (and I have watched them unfold--in both arenas!) that result from this style of teaching are grave enough to warrant serious reflection on our discourse about the sacred.

The Doctrine & Covenants teaches us about speaking of sacred things. The Lord said, "Remember that that which cometh from above is sacred, and must be spoken with care, and by constraint of the Spirit; and in this there is no condemnation, and ye receive the Spirit through prayer, wherefore, without this there remaineth condemnation" (Doc. & Cov. 63:64). Clearly, when we speak of sacred things with care and through the Spirit, there is no condemnation--in fact, such speech is commanded, not merely permissible. Consider an earlier commandment: "And they shall observe the covenants and church articles to do them, and these shall be their teachings, as they shall be directed by the Spirit. And the Spirit shall be given unto you by the prayer of faith; and if ye receive not the Spirit ye shall not teach" (Doc. & Cov. 42:14). Obviously the Lord's commandment in both instances is not "do not teach," but rather, "do teach--but when you teach, make sure you do it with the Spirit."

Hugh Nibley discussed this subject with feeling and a hint of irony. He said, "What the Mormons like best about their temples is the obligation of secrecy that exonerates them from ever having to speak, and hence to think, about what they have learned by the ordinances and teachings. So strict are they in observing the confidential nature of those teachings that they, for the most part, scrupulously avoid dropping so much as a hint to outsiders by putting any of them into practice." (Petersen, Hugh Nibley: A Consecrated Life, 361)

Would we baptize a child--or a new convert--without telling him what to expect, without outlining for him the covenants associated with baptism? Of course not. Why would we send our children into any other sacred or life-changing experience without preparing them--and not in a brief hour-long talk right beforehand, but from the moment they are able to understand the significance of the event?

Would it kill us to teach our kids directly and specifically, albeit in age-appropriate ways, about experiences and ordinances we hold dear? Would it not lead to children more prepared to understand and receive truth, who can meet the future without fear or apprehension, who can confront the sacred elements of their lives with appropriate eagerness and gravity?

But to develop this spiritual maturity our children must be taught, as Paul said, "How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard?" (Romans 10:14).

I believe that children raised in a home in which sacred topics are discussed in an atmosphere of openness, trust, acceptance, and love, by care and constraint of the Spirit, will learn from their parent's examples how to meet the sacred with enthusiasm and solemnity, and without levity or trepidation. They will learn to value and appreciate the things their parents value, and will thereby come to know the Lord and to rejoice in His love.

"And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up" (Deuteronomy 6:6-7).