He Only Said It Would Be Worth It

Okay, there are varying opinions on the adage, "I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it," a quote attributed to the Savior. Which I can never find in the scriptures. However, yes, it has given strength to those who are enduring hard times, so I'm not going to say this is saying has no value. Clearly, it does. Even if it's not actually based in scripture.


Meanwhile, there is a different scripture where the prophet Isaiah talks about something being "worth it." And it isn't referring to us. It's referring to the sacrifice that the Savior made for us.


It is in Isaiah 53: 4-6 and verses 10-11.


4 ¶Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.

 5 But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

 6 All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.

...

10 ¶Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.

 11 He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied.

In the past I have focused on the pain, the grief, the affliction that the Savior endured. For me. And I have felt terrible about it. As I should. And grateful, so deeply grateful that He would love me enough and be devoted to the Father enough to make this infinite sacrifice.

However, on a recent reading of these verses, I found myself focusing on the second part: the part where He says that it pleased Him.

What? It pleased Him? This just stops me in my tracks. But read on. When I make His soul an offering for my sin...He shall see his seed.

In other words, when I actually make His sacrifice efficacious by repenting, by taking the proffered gift of forgiveness, of being made pure and holy once again by His divine power, then He shall see the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied.

So instead of always thinking how sad it is that I've made things worse for the Savior by my bad behavior, I should realize, the Atonement is done. It is, as He said, finished. And now, MY work is to make it WORTH IT for Him by ACCEPTING His unspeakably sacred and generous and soul-wrenching gift... by repenting.

For that is what pleases the Lord.

On a morning quite a while ago, I was freaking out.


There were a lot of things going wrong with stuff I thought I'd had organized and squared away totally. But all my best-laid plans had gone awry. It was stuff I was doing for Church, and I was feeling pretty alone in my efforts, despite great support from my husband and some other people I serve with.


Still, the struggle persisted, and stuff had to be done and fixed and I was truly discouraged. I spent quite a bit of time on my knees. Should I admit that I was in tears too? I guess I will. Maybe it's good to tell people that I cry about stuff? I don't know. But there it is: I was crying. Probably ugly-crying (which is *obviously* why I had unexpected company show up in the midst of that morning. Luckily they only stayed a few minutes.)


Finally, I decided that I was going to do what I felt I should do in asking for help, and that I'd begged the Lord to help me with. Not knowing if what I was doing was right, or whether it was just a product of my own frenzied mind, I muscled through the fog of indecision and discouragement.


Within just a few minutes, like seriously, fifteen minutes, the situation resolved--to my huge relief and satisfaction and gratitude.


Later that morning I came across this scripture and it pierced me. I know it's true:


2 Peter 3:9


 9 The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward.


The Lord was so longsuffering with me. So kind. So gentle and helpful and generous in giving me what I needed as I was trying to serve. He'd promised to help me and guide me as I try to serve, and on this morning, He surely had not been slack concerning His promise.


He never is. He is true. He is unchanging. He is love. We can trust the goodness of our great God.

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.

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.

Unlocking the Fullness of Life

One hot afternoon last fall Gary and I took the kids up the mountain to escape the heat. (Arizona can get pretty hot. Glad we have a mountain to go to every so often for a reprieve.) At the time, I’d been struggling with some worries, mostly financial. I won’t go into it because now those worries seem petty. What I needed was an awakening, and as the kids swung on a rope swing over a ravine and I watched some shiny beetles traverse their own mountains of pine tree roots, it felt like I got an awakening.

 

We were talking about how nice it was to be somewhere on a perfect day. Mid-seventies, no humidity, cool breeze, happy kids, chicken salad sandwiches with “the good mayonnaise” for lunch. It occurred to me that we live a good life—a very good life. Truth be told, nearly all of us live better than any kings or queens in ages gone by have ever lived. After all what do we have?

 

Hot and cold running water – we can take a daily bath not in a metal can

Comfortable beds – without bugs or scratchy straw in them, but Memory Foam (!) instead

Washing machines – no dirty streams to wash clothes in

Air. Conditioning. – (enough said)

Cars – not horses or horse manure for our sole transportation

TV – not some weird court jester or traveling bard. We can change the channel, folks.

Good food we can microwave, and fresh fruits and vegetables all year round

 

The list goes on and on and on. And most people of every economic level in this country enjoy this modern life's bounties to some degree or other. Our lives are good. Really good. Add to this life expectancy, health care, dental care, education, a time of peace rather than war, no invading Mongols, and cold cereal for breakfast and snacks—it’s a recipe for supreme happiness.

 

But it’s human nature to make comparisons, and it seems to me that making comparisons can be the root of unhappiness – meaning, of course, comparisons that put ourselves in the lesser position. There’s always someone with a bigger house, a newer car, a bigger TV screen. And when I focus on something like that, all my blessings diminish in my mind.

 

So as I sat there watching the beetle climb, it hit me: there is only one difference between happiness and unhappiness in life: gratitude. I can focus on what I’ve been blessed with and be happy, or I can focus on what I think I don’t have and be sad. Period.

 

I recently came across this quote (on brainyquote.com, thank you to that site). I don’t know the woman, Melody Beattie, to whom it is attributed. But she said this:

 

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.

It turns what we have into enough, and more.

It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity.

It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.

 

I love this. I needed a big dose of this. And on days when I forget (which I do, dang it, like today, which is why I wrote this today, because those worries are hitting me again as I pay taxes and bills and wonder and worry and stew. I’m like that beetle, struggling over that pine tree’s root over and over), I need a booster shot. And so I’m going to challenge myself today to do what the song says, and “count my many blessings, name them one by one.” I believe it will surprise me what the Lord has done in giving me the fullness of life.