I recently read an article with speculation about the appearance of Jesus Christ. It was based on studies of the average appearance of the men of His era, and the article suggested that if He was of average height and appearance, He would have had dark hair, fair-to-medium skin, a beard, and reached a height of 5'1".
For people of our day, that might be unimpressive. I know this, at least about the height, because that's exactly how tall I am.
However, Isaiah prophesied that the Savior would have "no beauty that man should desire Him," and "no form nor comeliness." (Isaiah 53:2) It fits the prophecy.
(However, none of this takes into account His glorified state, which came later.)
It was interesting, if unimportant.
Regardless, the point I took from this article and the feelings I had after reading it, that it isn't how the Savior appeared. In spite of that, crowds thronged Him. Why? Because of how He made them feel. When we look to Him, rather than at Him, that's when we find Him.
He lifted, built, and taught. He accepted the socially unacceptable. He reached into hearts. He healed the untouchable. He loved without fear.
Reading about His incomparable life, I begin to feel a measure of that love. Through prayer, I feel it even more. By trying to change myself to follow--in some small way--the example of how He lived (by loving people around me), that love begins to take root. Through repentance, coming back to Him, asking for His pardon and help, that love and acceptance fills my heart and life.
As must be obvious to everyone, it isn't how He looked or looks. It's how He makes me and each of us feel as we look to Him.
He is love.
He invites us to receive His image in our countenances. I'm fairly sure we've seen Him and His love in someone's face somewhere, sometime. Someone who has emulated His love so long, he or she has become more beautiful for it.
Helping someone feel a portion of that love--shouldn't that be my goal every day? To make someone feel noticed, to remind them that they're loved?
This is a rambling set of thoughts. Noticed and loved. That's how I want to make people around me feel. I might not be a 5-star writer, a 10 on the beauty scale, or of impressive height or skill of any kind. But I hope people I meet feel noticed and loved.
That is all.
Showing posts with label How to Follow Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label How to Follow Christ. Show all posts
Sunday, October 14, 2018
Sunday, August 26, 2018
To Live in a House By the Side of the Road and Be a Friend to Man
Two weeks ago I went to visit my parents, along with my three siblings, and we celebrated their 50th anniversary, just the six of us, together. It was a sweet, blessed time. Fifty years of trials and togetherness is a real accomplishment in these days of disposable commitments, and several people in recent days have told me they look to my parents in their age and their happiness together and see their love for one another as a shining example of "the way things can be." I couldn't agree more.
While I was home, my dad introduced me to a poem called "The House By the Side of the Road." My dad was telling a story about a neighbor of his, Bishop Cleve Bodily, who had come to my younger sister's rescue one day when her truck caught on fire on the way to high school in front of Bishop Bodily's house. He came running out with a fire extinguisher to help my sister and helped her get the problem under control. My sister then caught a ride to school in a passing car. But Bishop Bodily wasn't through helping. By the end of the school day, he had replaced the hose (it was really a radiator problem, not an actual fire, as it appeared). He then brought the truck to the school for her and left the keys in the office.
My dad said, "I shared this poem with the people of Bishop Bodily's ward because I knew this was the type of man he was."
As I heard the poem, I realized, this is the type of man my dad was--always. Moreover, it's the type of person, at my core, that I long to be, even though I'm weak and self-absorbed, and often too "busy" to be aware of the needs of people around me. At least I know what I long to be.
Last weekend, we went to a wedding reception for the daughter of some friends who I think embody this poem. Do you have someone you know who is like this? Whose self-effacing service blesses all who meet them?
While I was home, my dad introduced me to a poem called "The House By the Side of the Road." My dad was telling a story about a neighbor of his, Bishop Cleve Bodily, who had come to my younger sister's rescue one day when her truck caught on fire on the way to high school in front of Bishop Bodily's house. He came running out with a fire extinguisher to help my sister and helped her get the problem under control. My sister then caught a ride to school in a passing car. But Bishop Bodily wasn't through helping. By the end of the school day, he had replaced the hose (it was really a radiator problem, not an actual fire, as it appeared). He then brought the truck to the school for her and left the keys in the office.
My dad said, "I shared this poem with the people of Bishop Bodily's ward because I knew this was the type of man he was."
As I heard the poem, I realized, this is the type of man my dad was--always. Moreover, it's the type of person, at my core, that I long to be, even though I'm weak and self-absorbed, and often too "busy" to be aware of the needs of people around me. At least I know what I long to be.
Last weekend, we went to a wedding reception for the daughter of some friends who I think embody this poem. Do you have someone you know who is like this? Whose self-effacing service blesses all who meet them?
"He was a friend to man, and lived
In a house by the side of the road."
-- Homer
In a house by the side of the road."
-- Homer
There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man. -
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man. -
Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man. -
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man. -
I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice.
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone. -
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice.
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone. -
Let me live in my house by the side of the road-
It's here the race of men go by.
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish- so am I;
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
It's here the race of men go by.
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish- so am I;
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
What if we were all like this? Noticing others' needs? How much more of a connected, blessed state of being! Think of the Savior, whose life was spent in being good, and in touching the lives with whom he interacted. All who met Him were touched and blessed and uplifted.
I heard my uncle say once, "We all have a sphere of influence. The older I get I realize how small mine is, but how vital my role is within that sphere." If we're on the house by the side of the road, ready to receive those who pass our way, we're ready to embrace others into our sphere, even if it's for a short time.
I hope I can be your friend if you're passing by my house.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
When I Realized the Commandment to Be Perfect Isn't Actually Kinda Cruel
Most of us who have read the words of the Savior have come to the end of the first chapter containing the Sermon on the Mount and hit those words, "Be ye therefore perfect." And we have stumbled at them.
Perfect? Shah, as if! Most days I can't even keep my dinner from burning, let alone aspire to perfection in all areas. (It's true: I burned dinner four times in the last two weeks. Four. My 13yo has started referring to it as "that nice, smoked flavor.")
The commandment to be perfect looks like a shiny golden coin I can reach out for but never touch. In fact, a lot of days, it is so far away, I don't even bother reaching out for it. And on other days, as it winks in the sun, it feels like it's mocking me. "I exist, but you can never have me."
But this is a terrible attitude! It's a wrong attitude.
Then, a while ago I realized the reason for this commandment, and why it isn't just put there to taunt me with its impossibility.
When Christ spoke, He spoke giving His Father's words. He attributed everything to the Father. He gave us His Father's commandments.
The Father is perfect. The Father wants us as His children to grow to become more like Him, and He knows we aren't yet. But He cannot, in His perfection, give us anything less than perfect. He gives His perfect love. He created a perfect earth. He gave us the gift of His perfect Son.
To give us a commandment to be less than perfect would be...well, it wouldn't be in His nature. His nature is to lift us, and to--line upon line--move us toward His kind of life, which is perfection.
When I noted that there isn't a time limit on that commandment (few of them have a time limit), I realized that this commandment was more eternal in nature. It is more like the shining golden city at the far end of a miles-long long path. But because He has given it to us as something to aim for, we can continue walking toward its beauty, keeping our eyes on it as a distant prize.
But there's also this: because He gave us the commandment to be perfect, that means that it must be attainable. That thought planted a grand, golden hope in my heart. I might not be there now, but if He commanded it, I can someday do it.
But what about in this life? Is there any, any, any way to keep this commandment?
Yes, actually. But obviously not on our own.
Here's an analogy you've probably heard before. We in our imperfections are like a bottomless bank account, with no credit limit, getting further and further into debt with all our mistakes, sins, misdeeds, and wrong thinking. However, the Savior is like a bank account filled to infinity. If we allow Him to take us on as financial partners, then infinity minus anything (even our bad credit no matter how bad) is still infinity.
In that way, we can be perfect. When we allow Christ to be our Savior, we are combining with His perfection. It is the only way in this life we can fulfill that commandment. But it's absolutely doable. It's doable today. The way is simple, and it's a combination of the first two principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ:
1) Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ
2) Repentance
By latching ourselves onto these two principles, we become one with our Lord. We become His. And we are thereby made perfect. Not in all the ultimate "golden city at the end of the road" sense, but we become acceptable to the Father. Because we are His Son's.
If ever we read in the scriptures about how the Savior's advocacy will go at judgment day, it's not going to be, "Allow this child into Thy presence because they are worthy." It's more like, "Allow this child into Thy presence because I am worthy--and they're mine."
I want to be His. I want Him to claim me, both at that day and now.
Perfect? Shah, as if! Most days I can't even keep my dinner from burning, let alone aspire to perfection in all areas. (It's true: I burned dinner four times in the last two weeks. Four. My 13yo has started referring to it as "that nice, smoked flavor.")
The commandment to be perfect looks like a shiny golden coin I can reach out for but never touch. In fact, a lot of days, it is so far away, I don't even bother reaching out for it. And on other days, as it winks in the sun, it feels like it's mocking me. "I exist, but you can never have me."
But this is a terrible attitude! It's a wrong attitude.
Then, a while ago I realized the reason for this commandment, and why it isn't just put there to taunt me with its impossibility.
When Christ spoke, He spoke giving His Father's words. He attributed everything to the Father. He gave us His Father's commandments.
The Father is perfect. The Father wants us as His children to grow to become more like Him, and He knows we aren't yet. But He cannot, in His perfection, give us anything less than perfect. He gives His perfect love. He created a perfect earth. He gave us the gift of His perfect Son.
To give us a commandment to be less than perfect would be...well, it wouldn't be in His nature. His nature is to lift us, and to--line upon line--move us toward His kind of life, which is perfection.
When I noted that there isn't a time limit on that commandment (few of them have a time limit), I realized that this commandment was more eternal in nature. It is more like the shining golden city at the far end of a miles-long long path. But because He has given it to us as something to aim for, we can continue walking toward its beauty, keeping our eyes on it as a distant prize.
But there's also this: because He gave us the commandment to be perfect, that means that it must be attainable. That thought planted a grand, golden hope in my heart. I might not be there now, but if He commanded it, I can someday do it.
But what about in this life? Is there any, any, any way to keep this commandment?
Yes, actually. But obviously not on our own.
Here's an analogy you've probably heard before. We in our imperfections are like a bottomless bank account, with no credit limit, getting further and further into debt with all our mistakes, sins, misdeeds, and wrong thinking. However, the Savior is like a bank account filled to infinity. If we allow Him to take us on as financial partners, then infinity minus anything (even our bad credit no matter how bad) is still infinity.
In that way, we can be perfect. When we allow Christ to be our Savior, we are combining with His perfection. It is the only way in this life we can fulfill that commandment. But it's absolutely doable. It's doable today. The way is simple, and it's a combination of the first two principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ:
1) Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ
2) Repentance
By latching ourselves onto these two principles, we become one with our Lord. We become His. And we are thereby made perfect. Not in all the ultimate "golden city at the end of the road" sense, but we become acceptable to the Father. Because we are His Son's.
If ever we read in the scriptures about how the Savior's advocacy will go at judgment day, it's not going to be, "Allow this child into Thy presence because they are worthy." It's more like, "Allow this child into Thy presence because I am worthy--and they're mine."
I want to be His. I want Him to claim me, both at that day and now.
Sunday, February 7, 2016
We Talk of Christ
As I was reading this week, I found this scripture that Nephi wrote. It's found in 2 Ne 25:26.
26 And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.
I have always loved that scripture, but it hit me with force this time. Is this how things are in my home? Am I speaking with enthusiasm and joy about Christ to my children? I know I talk about church, we read scriptures together, we do family home evening lessons on Monday nights, but is Christ often a topic of conversation? Am I rejoicing in Christ so that my children can hear it? I know I will call my mom and dad and tell them about miracles in my life or blessings I know have come from the Savior, but do I tell my children?
If so, is it often enough?
I want all these answers to be a resounding yes.
26 And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.
I have always loved that scripture, but it hit me with force this time. Is this how things are in my home? Am I speaking with enthusiasm and joy about Christ to my children? I know I talk about church, we read scriptures together, we do family home evening lessons on Monday nights, but is Christ often a topic of conversation? Am I rejoicing in Christ so that my children can hear it? I know I will call my mom and dad and tell them about miracles in my life or blessings I know have come from the Savior, but do I tell my children?
If so, is it often enough?
I want all these answers to be a resounding yes.
Monday, December 14, 2015
The Chosen Ones (and How To Be One)
As a writer and a reader, I love the "chosen one" stories as much as the next guy. Harry Potter? The chosen one. Luke Skywalker, Annakin too, chosen. Leven Thumps, chosen. The list goes on.
I think these themes resonate with us because we all secretly wish we were the chosen one, special, set apart, meant for higher things than groveling in the lowlands of oppression.
Over the millennia of recorded history, there has been that same theme, and we find it in the Old Testament. Joseph of Egypt was chosen. So was Moses. Chosen to deliver their people.
But what if they hadn't heeded the call to be chosen? What if they'd ignored it, done nothing, refused to obey the call. Would they still be chosen? Not exactly.
So, am I chosen? Are you? Who is?
I have wondered this from time to time. I think there was some annoyance from the surrounding tribes when the People of Israel showed up saying they were the Chosen People. It might incite animosity--possibly (likely) based on jealousy. Chosen of God. Wow. That's a big claim.
But how does it originate? What about those questions posed above, the ones about those who refuse the call? And if someone is chosen, does that mean they're better/more loved/the favorite child/more important? Does this even mean God could be unfair to some of His children?
I found a scripture that seems to answer that question. It comes from 1 Nephi 17:35 in the Book of Mormon.
35 Behold, the Lord esteemeth all flesh in one; he that is righteous is favored of God. But behold, this people had rejected every word of God, and they were ripe in iniquity; and the fulness of the wrath of God was upon them; and the Lord did curse the land against them, and bless it unto our fathers; yea, he did curse it against them unto their destruction, and he did bless it unto our fathers unto their obtaining power over it.
Clarity! God loves us all the same. The way to be chosen? It's for US to choose HIM.
That turns the whole concept on its ear for me.
To be chosen, all I need to do is choose His ways, be reliable, be a daughter He can count on to do what He needs done with the capacity He has given me.
What a gracious, fair, praiseworthy God we have.
I think these themes resonate with us because we all secretly wish we were the chosen one, special, set apart, meant for higher things than groveling in the lowlands of oppression.
Over the millennia of recorded history, there has been that same theme, and we find it in the Old Testament. Joseph of Egypt was chosen. So was Moses. Chosen to deliver their people.
But what if they hadn't heeded the call to be chosen? What if they'd ignored it, done nothing, refused to obey the call. Would they still be chosen? Not exactly.
So, am I chosen? Are you? Who is?
I have wondered this from time to time. I think there was some annoyance from the surrounding tribes when the People of Israel showed up saying they were the Chosen People. It might incite animosity--possibly (likely) based on jealousy. Chosen of God. Wow. That's a big claim.
But how does it originate? What about those questions posed above, the ones about those who refuse the call? And if someone is chosen, does that mean they're better/more loved/the favorite child/more important? Does this even mean God could be unfair to some of His children?
I found a scripture that seems to answer that question. It comes from 1 Nephi 17:35 in the Book of Mormon.
35 Behold, the Lord esteemeth all flesh in one; he that is righteous is favored of God. But behold, this people had rejected every word of God, and they were ripe in iniquity; and the fulness of the wrath of God was upon them; and the Lord did curse the land against them, and bless it unto our fathers; yea, he did curse it against them unto their destruction, and he did bless it unto our fathers unto their obtaining power over it.
Clarity! God loves us all the same. The way to be chosen? It's for US to choose HIM.
That turns the whole concept on its ear for me.
To be chosen, all I need to do is choose His ways, be reliable, be a daughter He can count on to do what He needs done with the capacity He has given me.
What a gracious, fair, praiseworthy God we have.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
How Can I Forgive When I'm Still Being Harmed? (The Opposite of Forgive and Forget)
You've read it a hundred times. We have to forgive others if we want to be forgiven of our sins. We know it's true. We believe that with all our hearts. And we want to obey that--really ache to forgive our oppressor--in our desire to approach the Savior.
However, what do we do when that oppression is still going on full force?
This is the conundrum I have been grappling with over the past few months. Years, actually. But it has hit a crescendo in recent days. I want to forgive, I want to move on, I want to keep the commandment to not hold a grudge against my brother. But the damage hasn't ended.
Usually when I think about forgiving someone, I think about a past wrong, something that has ended and I have to reflect on and get over.
But that isn't always the situation. Sometimes it's ongoing. Sometimes there is nothing we can do to escape the situation, and yet, we need the peace of not being angry or upset or even annoyed by the person inflicting the damage.
This is my problem! This is what I'm dealing with! And how do I forgive?
Well, I went to the scriptures, and at first glance, they just made me feel WORSE.
3 Nephi 12: 23-24
23 Therefore, if ye shall come unto me, or shall desire to come unto me, and rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee—
Ugh. Worthless. That's how I felt. And despite my efforts, the ongoing nature of the meanness made it hard to let go and forgive. Just when I thought I had it conquered, boom. Something new showed up, and I was upset all over again.
Discouraging.
Because I totally FORGOT about it.
Huh.
So, after a few days of ruminating on this concept, I realized that since I was going to be stuck in the rotten situation for some time left to come, I started to pray instead to be able to just FORGET.
I forget to buy light bulbs at the store. I forget to pick up my son from track practice. I forget that my daughter needs a new piano book. I forget where I put my shoes, what I was going into the pantry for, that I really need to have laundry done for tomorrow. I'm an EXPERT at FORGET. I begged the Lord to help me forget.
And then, He did. In his divine goodness, He sent me a dozen slap-me-down trials (mentioned in previous posts) that completely distracted me from the irritation inflicted on me by this person. He sent me hard things. He sent me a bunch of people to serve. He sent me an answer to my many prayers to find someone who would listen to the missionaries, so that I'd be busy a couple of days a week helping her prepare for baptism (which she was and did and yay!) He sent me blessings and a desire to finish some goals, like publishing and promoting a book. He sent me a healing of my long-defunct knee and a renewed ability to run several miles in a row.
Because either way, the goal of forgiveness is accomplished.
However, what do we do when that oppression is still going on full force?
This is the conundrum I have been grappling with over the past few months. Years, actually. But it has hit a crescendo in recent days. I want to forgive, I want to move on, I want to keep the commandment to not hold a grudge against my brother. But the damage hasn't ended.
Usually when I think about forgiving someone, I think about a past wrong, something that has ended and I have to reflect on and get over.
But that isn't always the situation. Sometimes it's ongoing. Sometimes there is nothing we can do to escape the situation, and yet, we need the peace of not being angry or upset or even annoyed by the person inflicting the damage.
This is my problem! This is what I'm dealing with! And how do I forgive?
Well, I went to the scriptures, and at first glance, they just made me feel WORSE.
3 Nephi 12: 23-24
23 Therefore, if ye shall come unto me, or shall desire to come unto me, and rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee—
24 Go thy way unto thy brother, and first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come unto me with full purpose of heart, and I will receive you.
Yep, I can't even really pray for help if I'm holding this bad feeling in my heart. Right? I'm harboring anger and a grudge, so I'm not worthy to even come to Him. Right? Well, that's how I took it the first hundred times I read it.
Ugh. Worthless. That's how I felt. And despite my efforts, the ongoing nature of the meanness made it hard to let go and forgive. Just when I thought I had it conquered, boom. Something new showed up, and I was upset all over again.
Discouraging.
However, this time when I read it, I noticed something brand new. It was the phrase "if ye...rememberest."
That phrase struck like a gong in my heart.
Sure, I can't change the behavior. I can't change the situation or the circumstance. I can't change the other person.
But I can forget.
Because it sounds like as long as I FORGET that the "aught against me" exists, I don't have to worry about it.
If I FORGET that the bad stuff is happening, then I actually don't really have to figure out how to forgive the person.
If I FORGET that the bad stuff is happening, then I actually don't really have to figure out how to forgive the person.
Because I totally FORGOT about it.
Huh.
So, after a few days of ruminating on this concept, I realized that since I was going to be stuck in the rotten situation for some time left to come, I started to pray instead to be able to just FORGET.
I mean, I forget absolutely EVERYTHING else.
I forget to buy light bulbs at the store. I forget to pick up my son from track practice. I forget that my daughter needs a new piano book. I forget where I put my shoes, what I was going into the pantry for, that I really need to have laundry done for tomorrow. I'm an EXPERT at FORGET. I begged the Lord to help me forget.
And then, He did. In his divine goodness, He sent me a dozen slap-me-down trials (mentioned in previous posts) that completely distracted me from the irritation inflicted on me by this person. He sent me hard things. He sent me a bunch of people to serve. He sent me an answer to my many prayers to find someone who would listen to the missionaries, so that I'd be busy a couple of days a week helping her prepare for baptism (which she was and did and yay!) He sent me blessings and a desire to finish some goals, like publishing and promoting a book. He sent me a healing of my long-defunct knee and a renewed ability to run several miles in a row.
And...I FORGOT.
At least for a while during those days. Yes, there were a couple of flare-ups. There were a couple of times where I felt like those disciples who were trying to cast out the evil spirit, and the Savior told them, "However, this kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting." So I prayed. And fasted.
And I was able to forget. Again.
And even though stuff kept happening, and I'd remember the pain--soon, the Lord would help me refocus on the other issues/blessings/duties/trials of my life, so I could forget. Again.
This has all been happening over the past several months. I'm hoping that sometime circumstances will fully change, that the person will just move away or evaporate from my life. It hasn't happened yet. I'm still in the trenches. And there are good moments and bad. When the bad stuff hits, sometimes I pray for help just to forget for five minutes. And He helps me--and that five minutes stretches much longer. God is good.
This has all been happening over the past several months. I'm hoping that sometime circumstances will fully change, that the person will just move away or evaporate from my life. It hasn't happened yet. I'm still in the trenches. And there are good moments and bad. When the bad stuff hits, sometimes I pray for help just to forget for five minutes. And He helps me--and that five minutes stretches much longer. God is good.
It's completely backward from the old adage FORGIVE AND FORGET. Sometimes, frankly, that feels impossible. Instead, maybe it's more doable to FORGET AND FORGIVE.
Because either way, the goal of forgiveness is accomplished.
And forgetting can sometimes be the easiest thing in the world.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Yikes! Be Patient in Affliction...Or Else
When my kids are being little pills, my husband often hangs this nebulous threat over them, "Kids! You'd better stop it or RELSE." It's an aberration of the word else, obviously. The kids will sometimes ask, "What's relse this time?" And then he thinks up some random consequence to their bad behavior, and generally he gets results.
Smart dad, right?
But as I've been dealing with a negative situation over the past several months (years if I think about it), I have been trying to be patient with the, for lack of a better word, affliction. One day a couple of weeks ago, I was really digging into the Book of Mormon, looking for ways to help me handle things, and I came across a couple of verses that simultaneously comforted and scared me.
That's possible, right? Comforting and scaring? At the same time? Well, apparently it's possible.
Here's the verse from Alma chapter 34.
Smart dad, right?
But as I've been dealing with a negative situation over the past several months (years if I think about it), I have been trying to be patient with the, for lack of a better word, affliction. One day a couple of weeks ago, I was really digging into the Book of Mormon, looking for ways to help me handle things, and I came across a couple of verses that simultaneously comforted and scared me.
That's possible, right? Comforting and scaring? At the same time? Well, apparently it's possible.
Here's the verse from Alma chapter 34.
40 And now my beloved brethren, I would exhort you to have patience, and that ye bear with all manner of afflictions; that ye do not revile against those who do cast you out because of your exceeding poverty, lest ye become sinners like unto them;
41 But that ye have patience, and bear with those afflictions, with a firm hope that ye shall one day rest from all your afflictions.
Did you see that? There's RELSE in there. A big one.
At first glance, the RELSE looks like "They're sinners and you're not because you're the afflicted one and therefore innocent and spotless." But I'm no dummy. I know I'm not some kind of perfect, sinless martyr. I've got challenges of my own in the way of spiritual growth.
No, I think the "warning relse" here is more specific. And maybe I'm just reading this wrong, but it sounds like "lest ye become sinners LIKE UNTO them." So, wait. Is that really saying that when I'm impatient through persecution, there's a good chance I'll become a cranky old persecutor just like the person I'm being impatient with through their infliction of affliction upon me?
Kinda what that sounds like.
So, yikes-a. Time to suck it up, quit my whining, and be patient through this trial, right? Because more than anything, I want to be kind and loving and ... not be out there heaping persecution on my brother's head.
So I'd better quit it...or RELSE.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Why Bad Things Happen To Good People -- A Bible Answer
Maybe it's only me, but it seems like life goes in waves sometimes. There are peaks and valleys, times of ease and times of trial. Right now in the lives of many people I love and care about, it seems like waves of trial. A loss of a job -- complicated by a dire illness in the family, a child stricken with disease, a wayward loved one making destructive choices, financial crises, marriages in trouble, health struggles, and so on. I have mourned with them, and wondered why these good people are going through so much difficulty.
But that is the age-old question: Why should good people have to suffer bad things?
We've heard it a hundred times. Shouldn't the righteous be blessed and the wicked punished? And yet it doesn't seem to work that way. Sometimes the wicked seem to prosper and the righteous struggle. How could a just God allow that to happen? Those who are following Him, doing their best, still end up with trials--some of them simply huge.
Some people say the scriptures don't address this, and yet, the words of Christ teach us this is going to happen-- and why. Granted, it's in the Gospel of John, and the words in that book are somewhat poetic, and maybe a little harder to grasp the meaning, at least for me, but here's the passage I'm thinking of.
John 15:1-8
1 I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman.
The first part means, since these are the words of Christ, He is the "true vine," the thing from which we all grow from and find nourishment in. The second part means the Father is the one in charge of the whole vineyard. He decides how to take care of all the grapevines and then is the one that keeps the fruit at the end. Christ always gives the glory to His Father.
2 Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit.
We're the branches on the vine. When we don't bear fruit, the Husbandman takes them away. I think that means the Father doesn't let those people have His Spirit with them.
When, however, we do bear fruit, he "purges" us. The footnote for the word "purgeth" says it comes from a Greek word meaning "try, test, prove."
My husband is a backyard farmer and has been taking good care of our grapevines this year. We've gone a few years with only tiny, sour grapes--too many bunches of them, all basically inedible. This year, though, he got rid of the fruitless branches so they wouldn't suck up all the soil's nutrients. And he went through and cut back the good branches so we'd get more grapes. We're having a good crop of sweet grapes this year because of his work.
The Lord has to cut us back. He has to purge us, prune us. This scripture says the Husbandman gives us trials, for His purpose, and that He wants the branches to bring forth fruit.
I guess there are ways we, too, can cut back in our lives. We can get rid of the things that are sucking the nutrients we need. Time wasters, friends who keep us from doing what we know we should. (Sometimes friends can be clutter.) Bad habits. That's a tangent, but I could benefit from a pruning I give myself and my time for sure.
There are more verses about this and then verse 8 says this:
8 Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples.
That is the Father's glory. I know the greatest feelings I glory in are the successes and growth of my children. I sense that is a tiny taste of how our Father feels about us and our growth.
And it is what makes us Christ's disciples.
As I pray for my friends and family members in their times of need, I think of the times of trial I've faced as well. I know there are waves of trial coming my way too, and I hope I can follow the examples of faith of these dear ones. These good people are clinging to the True Vine, the Savior, and He is nourishing them as they go. I'm struck by my friends' faith. It is giving them strength to endure, and I'm inspired by their love for God, and God's love for them.
It's interesting that the verses that follow this passage I've just noted are all about love. God's love is evident in the way he purges us. He wants to make us disciples of Christ, and to glory in us, His children.
And so maybe the bad things happening to good people are actually just "proof" (since the word purge means to prove) that we belong to the True Vine and that we allow the Husbandman to work in our lives. Because He loves us and wants to make us His.
But that is the age-old question: Why should good people have to suffer bad things?
We've heard it a hundred times. Shouldn't the righteous be blessed and the wicked punished? And yet it doesn't seem to work that way. Sometimes the wicked seem to prosper and the righteous struggle. How could a just God allow that to happen? Those who are following Him, doing their best, still end up with trials--some of them simply huge.
Some people say the scriptures don't address this, and yet, the words of Christ teach us this is going to happen-- and why. Granted, it's in the Gospel of John, and the words in that book are somewhat poetic, and maybe a little harder to grasp the meaning, at least for me, but here's the passage I'm thinking of.
John 15:1-8
1 I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman.
The first part means, since these are the words of Christ, He is the "true vine," the thing from which we all grow from and find nourishment in. The second part means the Father is the one in charge of the whole vineyard. He decides how to take care of all the grapevines and then is the one that keeps the fruit at the end. Christ always gives the glory to His Father.
2 Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit.
We're the branches on the vine. When we don't bear fruit, the Husbandman takes them away. I think that means the Father doesn't let those people have His Spirit with them.
When, however, we do bear fruit, he "purges" us. The footnote for the word "purgeth" says it comes from a Greek word meaning "try, test, prove."
My husband is a backyard farmer and has been taking good care of our grapevines this year. We've gone a few years with only tiny, sour grapes--too many bunches of them, all basically inedible. This year, though, he got rid of the fruitless branches so they wouldn't suck up all the soil's nutrients. And he went through and cut back the good branches so we'd get more grapes. We're having a good crop of sweet grapes this year because of his work.
The Lord has to cut us back. He has to purge us, prune us. This scripture says the Husbandman gives us trials, for His purpose, and that He wants the branches to bring forth fruit.
I guess there are ways we, too, can cut back in our lives. We can get rid of the things that are sucking the nutrients we need. Time wasters, friends who keep us from doing what we know we should. (Sometimes friends can be clutter.) Bad habits. That's a tangent, but I could benefit from a pruning I give myself and my time for sure.
There are more verses about this and then verse 8 says this:
8 Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples.
That is the Father's glory. I know the greatest feelings I glory in are the successes and growth of my children. I sense that is a tiny taste of how our Father feels about us and our growth.
And it is what makes us Christ's disciples.
As I pray for my friends and family members in their times of need, I think of the times of trial I've faced as well. I know there are waves of trial coming my way too, and I hope I can follow the examples of faith of these dear ones. These good people are clinging to the True Vine, the Savior, and He is nourishing them as they go. I'm struck by my friends' faith. It is giving them strength to endure, and I'm inspired by their love for God, and God's love for them.
It's interesting that the verses that follow this passage I've just noted are all about love. God's love is evident in the way he purges us. He wants to make us disciples of Christ, and to glory in us, His children.
And so maybe the bad things happening to good people are actually just "proof" (since the word purge means to prove) that we belong to the True Vine and that we allow the Husbandman to work in our lives. Because He loves us and wants to make us His.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
What's the Most Important Choice We'll Ever Make?
I've been thinking about a friend of mine. She's lived a really exemplary life, and made all the good choices. She's been a good person, gone to church, been a good student, a good daughter and friend, and a good example for everyone in her family. I admire her to the moon!
But lately, she's been going through a rough patch. We all do, from time to time, for various reasons. I don't know all her situation, but I do know that whatever it is, it's making her pull away from the good stuff she's done in the past.
Years ago I went through something similar. I didn't go completely off the rails or anything, but I did make some choices that weren't helping me progress. At all. At least not toward the destination I ultimately wanted to end up in.
One day I was reading through Ezekiel and found this passage. It's a bit long -- apologies -- and it repeats, so if you just read the first two groups of verses, you'll get the idea. It's from chapter 18.
21 But if the wicked will aturn from all his sins that he hath committed, and keep all my statutes, and do that which is lawful and right, he shall surely live, he shall not die.
22 All his atransgressions that he hath committed, they shall not be mentioned unto him: in his righteousness that he hath done he shall live.
*
24 ¶But when the arighteous bturneth away from his crighteousness, and committeth iniquity, and doeth according to all the abominations that the wicked man doeth, shall he live? All his righteousness that he hath done shall not be mentioned: in his trespass that he hath trespassed, and in his dsin that he hath sinned, in them shall he die.
*
26 When a righteous man aturneth away from his righteousness, and committeth iniquity, and bdieth in them; for his iniquity that he hath done shall he die.
27 Again, when the wicked man aturneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive.
28 Because he considereth, and turneth away from all his transgressions that he hath committed, he shall surely live, he shall not die.
I remember being in the thick of making my bad choices and thinking, "I've lived a good life up to now. I've always pretty much done all the stuff I should: go to church, serve other people, be nice, read the scriptures," and so on. I'd been a missionary. I'd been a good daughter. I was going to be fine. My past goodness would cancel out the rotten choices.
But then, that scripture was a slap in the face!
What it said to me was that it didn't matter one smidge what I'd done in the past. If a good person turns from her righteousness and does bad stuff, she's not a good person anymore. You're only the person you are in the moment.
On the other hand, for a person like me who needed to change, it also didn't matter what I'd done in the past. If I turned away from what I'd been doing wrong, through the power of God, I could once again be a righteous person because of His goodness and forgiveness when I reconciled my life with His laws and was washed clean by His grace.
So as much as it hurt to read this, it also caused me to be humble, so that I could get to a place where I could really repent.
Since then I've thought a thousand times: it doesn't really matter what our past is -- righteous or wicked, lukewarm or lazy. It doesn't matter if we've gone to church or been a jerk all our lives up to this point. If we turn away from what we have done, we become -- and are -- what we choose at this moment.
In other words, the most important choice we will make in life is our next choice.
It's a perfect blend of fear and hope, this principle. I find myself filled with fear when I am not doing what's right. And I find myself filled with hope when I remember that Christ's great love for us makes the past irrelevant. He can heal us. He can heal me. He has healed me.
When I read this passage of scripture, humbled myself, and came to Him with my burdens and broken self, He fixed me up, made me whole again. I found I never, ever wanted to leave His fold. His grace is magnificent!
If only everyone broken could feel this love -- including my dear friend whose chosen path is looking rocky right now. It's ready, it's available. It can be all of ours now, from this very minute, if we choose Him in our next choice.
Monday, April 7, 2014
A Not-Exactly-Magic Eraser for Life
Something about our hot water heater is broken. This is nothing shocking. There's generally something broken when you have a house. Our roof shingles have been inadequate for about six years, and we need to replace them. Luckily, it's been a severe drought and since it never, ever rains, we just haven't needed shingles. I am going to look on the bright side of the drought.
Still, this hot water heater thing really puzzles me. At random times, maybe about once a month, I will run water in the tub, and instead of clear water coming out of the faucet, the water is laced with black, greasy sludge. I do nothing different than any other morning of life, it just suddenly happens.
Truthfully, for a long time I blamed my husband. It's almost like that horrible story where the cranky wife berated her husband daily for getting bits of water and toothpaste splashed around the sink. She really laid it on thick. Then, after he died unexpectedly, she went to clean the sink and realized it was just as splashed as when he'd been alive.
Of course, I was far more justified in my conclusions, since there would be a black ring around the tub, and since I'm a showerer and he's a bather, this had to be his fault. Of course, he wasn't a diesel mechanic or a dock worker, so it was hard to imagine how he could be covered with black sludge enough to leave such a residue. It wasn't until it had been going on for about a year and I'd been secretly grousing at him for it (not aloud, I'd read the sink-splash story one too many times to fall into that trap) that one day I was bathing my youngest daughter and I saw the sludge for myself.
I apologized. He accepted.
But we still had the ring around the tub. Ugh. I hate scrubbing the tub. Am I alone in this?
Luckily, Mr. Clean came to the rescue, or Dow Chemical or whichever genius invented Magic Eraser. That thing is truly incredible. It's just a white sponge thing that you get wet, which activates some kind of acid that is in the sponge and with much less elbow grease than using Comet or Ajax makes that porcelain sparkle again.
It's going to sound cheesy, but it has changed my life.
It's time for me to scrub the tub again, and I've been postponing it, but when I saw it this afternoon I suddenly thought about how much happier I am when it's clean. A clean bathroom is a gift I give myself. Then I thought about this whole tub thing in a different light, and realized it kind of had a spiritual application.
Sometimes my life just gets sludge in it. I make mistakes. It happens at random times when I'm least expecting it. I mean, I generally am trying to have a clean life. But sludge happens. I get angry or weak or lazy, and suddenly next thing I know, there's a black greasy film over my world. Sometimes it disgusts me so much that I postpone cleaning it because I'm afraid of the work it will take to get rid of it or because I want to blame someone else for it and why doesn't someone else come and fix it because surely this couldn't be my fault.
And I guess the truth is, I can't actually fix it. All the effort I'd give would be less than Ajax or Comet or even just a well placed thumbnail scrubbing it away. It would never get truly clean. What I need is a spiritual Magic Eraser--and it comes not by magic but still by power, by the great and infinite power of the One who can truly clean me up, make me whole, make my life sparkly once again, only the Savior Jesus Christ. It's through the power of His love that all that yuckiness can be eradicated from my soul. And it can make me happy. It's a gift He gives me, and my choosing Him and to come to Him is the gift I give myself.
And I mean this with all my heart: He has changed my life.
Still, this hot water heater thing really puzzles me. At random times, maybe about once a month, I will run water in the tub, and instead of clear water coming out of the faucet, the water is laced with black, greasy sludge. I do nothing different than any other morning of life, it just suddenly happens.
Truthfully, for a long time I blamed my husband. It's almost like that horrible story where the cranky wife berated her husband daily for getting bits of water and toothpaste splashed around the sink. She really laid it on thick. Then, after he died unexpectedly, she went to clean the sink and realized it was just as splashed as when he'd been alive.
Of course, I was far more justified in my conclusions, since there would be a black ring around the tub, and since I'm a showerer and he's a bather, this had to be his fault. Of course, he wasn't a diesel mechanic or a dock worker, so it was hard to imagine how he could be covered with black sludge enough to leave such a residue. It wasn't until it had been going on for about a year and I'd been secretly grousing at him for it (not aloud, I'd read the sink-splash story one too many times to fall into that trap) that one day I was bathing my youngest daughter and I saw the sludge for myself.
I apologized. He accepted.
But we still had the ring around the tub. Ugh. I hate scrubbing the tub. Am I alone in this?
Luckily, Mr. Clean came to the rescue, or Dow Chemical or whichever genius invented Magic Eraser. That thing is truly incredible. It's just a white sponge thing that you get wet, which activates some kind of acid that is in the sponge and with much less elbow grease than using Comet or Ajax makes that porcelain sparkle again.
It's going to sound cheesy, but it has changed my life.
It's time for me to scrub the tub again, and I've been postponing it, but when I saw it this afternoon I suddenly thought about how much happier I am when it's clean. A clean bathroom is a gift I give myself. Then I thought about this whole tub thing in a different light, and realized it kind of had a spiritual application.
Sometimes my life just gets sludge in it. I make mistakes. It happens at random times when I'm least expecting it. I mean, I generally am trying to have a clean life. But sludge happens. I get angry or weak or lazy, and suddenly next thing I know, there's a black greasy film over my world. Sometimes it disgusts me so much that I postpone cleaning it because I'm afraid of the work it will take to get rid of it or because I want to blame someone else for it and why doesn't someone else come and fix it because surely this couldn't be my fault.
And I guess the truth is, I can't actually fix it. All the effort I'd give would be less than Ajax or Comet or even just a well placed thumbnail scrubbing it away. It would never get truly clean. What I need is a spiritual Magic Eraser--and it comes not by magic but still by power, by the great and infinite power of the One who can truly clean me up, make me whole, make my life sparkly once again, only the Savior Jesus Christ. It's through the power of His love that all that yuckiness can be eradicated from my soul. And it can make me happy. It's a gift He gives me, and my choosing Him and to come to Him is the gift I give myself.
And I mean this with all my heart: He has changed my life.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
How to Be Infused With Christlike Love--A 5 Step Pattern
This morning I had occasion to study about love. I have just received a new assignment at church, one where I have responsibility for teaching and nurturing a lot of young people. It's a daunting challenge, and one I feel like I need to really humble myself to be able to accomplish in any pleasing fashion.
The one key that keeps coming to my mind is "love." Of course. Of course.
As I searched the scriptures to find how to get more of that vital quality, I kept finding a clear pattern, and although it makes perfect sense, I was just shaking my head at myself for never seeing it so obviously before. Maybe everyone who ever reads this already knows these things, and if so, apologies, just feel good about yourself and pity my obtuseness. However, it felt like an epiphany to me, and so I'm going to point it out, if only for my own benefit in outlining it concisely.
First off: here's one of the scriptures that led me to this pattern. Moroni 8:25-26:
25 And the first fruits of arepentance is bbaptism; and baptism cometh by faith unto the fulfilling the commandments; and the fulfilling the commandments bringeth cremission of sins;
The one key that keeps coming to my mind is "love." Of course. Of course.
As I searched the scriptures to find how to get more of that vital quality, I kept finding a clear pattern, and although it makes perfect sense, I was just shaking my head at myself for never seeing it so obviously before. Maybe everyone who ever reads this already knows these things, and if so, apologies, just feel good about yourself and pity my obtuseness. However, it felt like an epiphany to me, and so I'm going to point it out, if only for my own benefit in outlining it concisely.
First off: here's one of the scriptures that led me to this pattern. Moroni 8:25-26:
25 And the first fruits of arepentance is bbaptism; and baptism cometh by faith unto the fulfilling the commandments; and the fulfilling the commandments bringeth cremission of sins;
26 And the remission of sins bringeth ameekness, and lowliness of heart; and because of meekness and lowliness of heart cometh the visitation of the bHoly Ghost, which cComforter dfilleth with hope and perfect elove, which love endureth by fdiligence unto gprayer, until the end shall come, when all the hsaints shall dwell with God.
Repent (and be baptized)
Which brings a remission of sins
Which makes us meek and lowly
Which brings the Holy Ghost
Which fills us with love
I like how it also says we can "endure in this love" by earnest prayer. And that we should. And we can.
And so basically, if I want to love more, I need to repent more.
This is something, now that I'm remembering experiences in my life, I know to be true.
I remember a few years ago, I had something I wanted to be forgiven of. As I was going through the repentance process, I felt a strong impression that there was something standing in my way: a grudge. Months (maybe years) before, a group of people had done something publicly that really wounded me and my family. I still felt the pain of that, and harbored bad feelings. (Like, if I saw one guy walking across the street, I sometimes considered running over him. Yeah, I'm a small person, I know it.) But as I sought forgiveness for my own wrongs, I knew I needed to forgive. It took time and effort and bucketloads of grace, but that thorn did come loose from my soul.
And what I was left with was a miracle, because, instead of that want-to-smash-people feeling, all I could feel after that experience of repentance and forgiveness, was a strong feeling that "This relief of being forgiven is so great, I would never, ever want to deny it to anyone."
And for me, that was charity. True love.
So, now that I think about it, I know that this is true. Remission of sins does indeed fill the soul with love.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
How to Follow Christ: Noticing the One
This past week was weird. I started the week attending a political meeting, where I met and shook hands with important political figures of our state, as well as our nation. My husband and I got our photo taken with someone you've probably heard of, no matter who you are or where you live. There were great speeches given, and bold statements made. Decision-makers spoke. We listened.
Later in the week I attended a writers conference with about 250 other writers, all in different stages of their writing careers. There, in attendance, were award-winning writers. Some had sold millions of books. Some you have probably heard of. Also at the conference were decision-makers. Editors and agents are the gatekeepers of the book industry, and they had come to look for new material to one day be placed on bookshelves in your local store. No matter what workshop we were in, eyes were on these men and women.
On the way home, though, I rode with my friend. We'll call her Valerie. I asked Valerie what was her favorite part of the writing conference. She said it was talking to her dear friend, a longtime writer but one who is now suffering from Parkinson's disease, and who is frail and sat at the back of every session. Valerie took the time to sit and visit with this sister, to make her feel noticed and important and special. Because Valerie's husband also suffers from this disease, and Valerie is his main caregiver, she could really offer empathy to this sister, and could listen better than anyone.
As I thought about these experiences the next morning, I couldn't help but think about the time in Jesus's life when he was teaching in the synagogue and noticed a woman "bent in two." He healed her, though it was the Sabbath. Of course, He caught flak for this, but then He rebuffed His detractors with the fact that she was a daughter of Abraham and deserved to be healed any day of the week.
This story comes to mind often. It's a favorite of mine, I think because I realize there are those around who go unnoticed and whose pain is ignored by the more mainstream of society. But our Savior saw her. And our Savior sees me, and He sees you. And I loved being able to hear about my friend Valerie's skill at noticing the one who no one else noticed, and to show that person love. I want to be like Valerie.
Of course, even the people who are "important," and "decision-makers" also need to be noticed and loved on an individual level. It is wonderful to know that no matter our station in life, the Savior is aware of our needs and our insecurities, of our pain and of our joy.
I love Him. And I love that I have examples of His kind of love in my own life that I can see in action daily.
Later in the week I attended a writers conference with about 250 other writers, all in different stages of their writing careers. There, in attendance, were award-winning writers. Some had sold millions of books. Some you have probably heard of. Also at the conference were decision-makers. Editors and agents are the gatekeepers of the book industry, and they had come to look for new material to one day be placed on bookshelves in your local store. No matter what workshop we were in, eyes were on these men and women.
On the way home, though, I rode with my friend. We'll call her Valerie. I asked Valerie what was her favorite part of the writing conference. She said it was talking to her dear friend, a longtime writer but one who is now suffering from Parkinson's disease, and who is frail and sat at the back of every session. Valerie took the time to sit and visit with this sister, to make her feel noticed and important and special. Because Valerie's husband also suffers from this disease, and Valerie is his main caregiver, she could really offer empathy to this sister, and could listen better than anyone.
As I thought about these experiences the next morning, I couldn't help but think about the time in Jesus's life when he was teaching in the synagogue and noticed a woman "bent in two." He healed her, though it was the Sabbath. Of course, He caught flak for this, but then He rebuffed His detractors with the fact that she was a daughter of Abraham and deserved to be healed any day of the week.
This story comes to mind often. It's a favorite of mine, I think because I realize there are those around who go unnoticed and whose pain is ignored by the more mainstream of society. But our Savior saw her. And our Savior sees me, and He sees you. And I loved being able to hear about my friend Valerie's skill at noticing the one who no one else noticed, and to show that person love. I want to be like Valerie.
Of course, even the people who are "important," and "decision-makers" also need to be noticed and loved on an individual level. It is wonderful to know that no matter our station in life, the Savior is aware of our needs and our insecurities, of our pain and of our joy.
I love Him. And I love that I have examples of His kind of love in my own life that I can see in action daily.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
How to Follow Christ: The Lost Coin
I'm still reading the New Testament, in Luke. I'm trying to take the parables slowly, let them seep into my soul. There's a pairing of parables in Luke 15, the parable of the lost sheep, and the parable of the lost coin, that seem very similar, but that make different points.
I think most people who have read the New Testament have been affected by the parable of the lost sheep. Such an image, of a shepherd bringing the lost one home on his shoulders.
Today I have been thinking about the lost coin. It's slightly different. From the commentary I read (some by Bruce R. McConkie, some by Andrew Skinner and Kelly Ogden, and some by Reverend Farrar), this parable is juxtaposed with the lost sheep because whereas a sheep can wander off of its own power, the coin is lost due to neglect.
8 ¶Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one apiece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it?
I think most people who have read the New Testament have been affected by the parable of the lost sheep. Such an image, of a shepherd bringing the lost one home on his shoulders.
Today I have been thinking about the lost coin. It's slightly different. From the commentary I read (some by Bruce R. McConkie, some by Andrew Skinner and Kelly Ogden, and some by Reverend Farrar), this parable is juxtaposed with the lost sheep because whereas a sheep can wander off of its own power, the coin is lost due to neglect.
8 ¶Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one apiece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it?
9 And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost.
10 Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the aangels of God over one bsinner that repenteth.
I think of myself as the woman having the responsibility over the coins. The coins, of course, are souls. Like the coin itself, which has the image of the king stamped upon it to give it value, the soul of man has the image of the King stamped upon it, giving it value. We are made in God's image. Every soul has value. As a follower in the kingdom, I have responsibility for the souls within it, and should do everything this woman did (turn on a bright light, sweep to the very corners) to reach out and find the lost souls within my sphere of responsibility.
It's hard sometimes to labor that diligently. I find myself tending to think that people have their agency to choose whether they want to wander--like the sheep. But truthfully, some souls are lost by neglect, like the coin. And then, how much greater the duty to seek them out.
I want to be better at this.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
How to Make Sacrifices for Christ: Counting the Cost
This morning I was reading in the New Testament from Luke Chapter 14. I'm making my way through the New and Old Testaments slowly. Recently I read something I believe was from Joseph Fielding McConkie like "We read the scriptures too quickly," and that's certainly been the case with me. A chapter in three different books each morning, about a half hour of study. Zip, done. Pondering quickly (oxymoron), getting a bit of spiritual breakfast and I'm off.
But I ought to be feasting on the word. And so I've been reading more slowly. In the New Testament I've been trying to read just a paragraph or two (signified by the paragraph symbols.) I then try to focus and think about what that parable or event could mean. It has helped.
So today I read about when Jesus was being followed by a great multitude of people and he turned to them and told them in order to be his disciples they have to hate father, mother, wife, children, brethren, sisters, to follow him. Then he gave this parable:
28 For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and acounteth the bcost, whether he have sufficient to cfinish it?
But I ought to be feasting on the word. And so I've been reading more slowly. In the New Testament I've been trying to read just a paragraph or two (signified by the paragraph symbols.) I then try to focus and think about what that parable or event could mean. It has helped.
So today I read about when Jesus was being followed by a great multitude of people and he turned to them and told them in order to be his disciples they have to hate father, mother, wife, children, brethren, sisters, to follow him. Then he gave this parable:
28 For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and acounteth the bcost, whether he have sufficient to cfinish it?
29 Lest ahaply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him,
31 Or what king, going to make war against another king, sitteth not down first, and aconsulteth whether he be able with ten thousand to meet him that cometh against him with twenty thousand?
32 Or else, while the other is yet a great way off, he sendeth an aambassage, and desireth conditions of peace.
33 So likewise, whosoever he be of you that aforsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my bdisciple.
The thing that struck me about this was that yes, we want to follow Christ. We feel the Spirit when we read His words and the Spirit fills our souls, and we think this is what I want. That must have been the case among the great multitude that followed Him.
But Christ pointed out that there is a cost. If you want the tower, you have to plan to finish it. If you want to win the battle, you need to evaluate your resources and whether you're going to win. You don't want to look like a quitter. You don't want to look like a failure. You need to plan for the victory and for success. But the tower is worth it, as is the victory. And so you "count the cost."
That final verse, 33, where he says, "forsaketh not all that he hath," shows what the cost is for becoming a disciple of Christ, one of the greatest things to be desired because the rewards are immeasurably great--greater than the multitude could've imagined at that time.
This is the cost: all that we are and have, forever more.
Considering this, I think baptism is what shows that we are willing to give it, and I believe that the strengthening we get from the Holy Ghost along the way is the great enabling power that helps us pay that cost as we go. We learn to pay the price. We become so that we are able to pay the cost, with His divine help.
We should not forget to count that Helper into our cost estimate, because He is always there for us, lifting us and making us better.
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