Recently I discovered a discourse given over 20 years ago by a woman named Frances Bennion. Since the time I read it, I have pondered it daily. It has changed my outlook on suffering and the whole question of "why do bad things happen to good people?"
I started this blog, partly, with a mind to explore the topic of suffering, and how understanding the scriptures and the teachings of doctrine can help us through difficulty, as well as how we can have soft hearts for God to write His teachings upon them. (Hence, the Tables of the Heart moniker.)
Here is the link to the entire discourse. It is long. But it absolutely blew my mind, and I invite anyone who is suffering, has suffered, or anticipates future suffering to give it a look.
I'll include one quote (of many) that I found thought-provoking:
"One of my prayers to my Father is that my children will be healed of my ignorance and will not bear forever the difficulties caused by things I have mistakenly done or not done as a parent. As I think of the atonement of Christ, it seems to me that if our sins are to be forgiven, the results of them must be erased. If my mistakes are to be forgiven, other persons must be healed from any effects of them. In the same way, if other persons are to be released by the atonement, then we must be healed from their mistakes. I think that is an essential part of understanding God’s gift: He did not make a plan whereby we simply prove ourselves already right or wrong. Rather, we must make sense of the fact that who we are and who we become is not wholly dependent on where we are now, and on never having made a mistake. Christ’s atonement makes it possible for us to go through the meeting of reality, the falling, the hungering, the screaming, the crawling on the floor, the being disfigured and scarred for life psychologically or physically, and still survive and transcend it. If that were not true, then our whole universe would have no meaning."
Showing posts with label the Atonement of Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the Atonement of Christ. Show all posts
Sunday, September 16, 2018
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.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
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.
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.
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.
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, December 16, 2014
Sleeping Through The Garden
As I have been preparing my heart for Christmas, I have been reading several different scenes from the life of our Lord. One is the Garden of Gethsemane. I read and reread His heavy experience there, trying to comprehend, even a tiny degree, what sacrifice was made there on my behalf.
The thing that struck me this time reading was how alone the Savior was. After the apostles partook of the Last Supper, Jesus invited just Peter, James and John to go with Him on this difficult trek into the deepest abyss of the soul, a place only a God could go and survive. To take on Him all our sins, weaknesses, infirmities, mistakes, all at once, it's just incomprehensible.
But of his companions He asked one thing: stay awake.
And they couldn't.
We've all been there--so tired we simply cannot keep our eyes open, maybe even despite danger. Like driving late at night after a long day. I remember one time I nearly wrecked my car with all my little children inside. The only thing that saved me was calling my husband and having him talk me home, the last ten minutes of the drive. I needed him. I needed his help to get through.
The Savior, all He asked was to have a few friends there to support Him.
And they could not watch one hour.
It's disheartening.
And yet, isn't it a type of the human condition? How "awake" are we on a regular basis to the sacrifice that has been made by our God for us? What is my alertness level to the massive debt of gratitude and honor and fealty I owe to Him who stood between me and Justice, which gapes wide to claim my eternal soul, unless I repent and cast myself at His feet?
Sadly, I know there are days when most of us, self included, hardly give it a passing thought.
Sleeping through it. That's all I do from time to time.
And what He asks is that I stay awake. Be aware of His divine suffering on my behalf.
I love Him. This Christmas season is helping me to wake up. I hope I can stay awake in days and months and years to come.
The thing that struck me this time reading was how alone the Savior was. After the apostles partook of the Last Supper, Jesus invited just Peter, James and John to go with Him on this difficult trek into the deepest abyss of the soul, a place only a God could go and survive. To take on Him all our sins, weaknesses, infirmities, mistakes, all at once, it's just incomprehensible.
But of his companions He asked one thing: stay awake.
And they couldn't.
We've all been there--so tired we simply cannot keep our eyes open, maybe even despite danger. Like driving late at night after a long day. I remember one time I nearly wrecked my car with all my little children inside. The only thing that saved me was calling my husband and having him talk me home, the last ten minutes of the drive. I needed him. I needed his help to get through.
The Savior, all He asked was to have a few friends there to support Him.
And they could not watch one hour.
It's disheartening.
And yet, isn't it a type of the human condition? How "awake" are we on a regular basis to the sacrifice that has been made by our God for us? What is my alertness level to the massive debt of gratitude and honor and fealty I owe to Him who stood between me and Justice, which gapes wide to claim my eternal soul, unless I repent and cast myself at His feet?
Sadly, I know there are days when most of us, self included, hardly give it a passing thought.
Sleeping through it. That's all I do from time to time.
And what He asks is that I stay awake. Be aware of His divine suffering on my behalf.
I love Him. This Christmas season is helping me to wake up. I hope I can stay awake in days and months and years to come.
Friday, May 2, 2014
Like a Cheese Grater for the Foot...Stony vs. Fleshy
Last week I started running again after a five month hiatus to let my owie knee rest. It still sounds like a box of Tic Tacs when I walk down a staircase, but it doesn't hurt anymore, which means I started back out there. We'll see how long it lasts.
One of the unexpected blessings of the hiatus was the calluses on my feet healed up. When I checked them out today, for the first time in a few years, they were more like human flesh than like the pumice I use on them. My pumice stone is part of a pedicure paddle, and on the other side of it is a thing that's remarkably like the cheese grater / lemon zester tool I use in my kitchen. Except I use it on the bottoms of my feet. And often the calluses are so thick it doesn't even hurt.
So, does this have a scriptural point? Why, yes. It does. Because I have still been reading in the book of Ezekiel, from Chapter 11:
I keep thinking of this phrase, "stony heart."
When we sin, we feel bad. It hurts us when our hearts are soft because we're each born with a conscience, given to us by our Heavenly Father. That's like a central nervous system for our soul.
It's like when we accidentally touch a hot stove. The heat would damage us, and the pain tells us to stop.
So, in a strange way, the pain is a good thing. A warning system.
Likewise, our spirits can harden. If we ignore the pain of sin long enough, it can make our hearts like Ezekiel said: stony.
Anyway, I was thinking about it. When we do stuff we shouldn't, and it hurts, we basically have two options to help us stop feeling sad/bad about it. 1) We can repent. 2) We can keep sinning and develop a spiritual callus (i.e., "harden our hearts.")
It can harden to the point that it doesn't even hurt when we scrape a cheese grater over it. We ignore it, until we barely notice we're constantly walking around both harmed and callused.
Ezekiel says when Israel is gathered, they will put aside their "detestable things," and when they come to Christ, He will give them a heart of flesh and take away their stony heart.
Then they can walk in His statutes and ordinances (like taking the sacrament) and be His people and He is their God.
And another important point is we don't have to make the exchange. I don't have the skill to turn rocks to flesh. But He does. He turned water into wine. He can and will turn stone into softness.
All we have to do is put aside our detestable things and come to Him.
And so, according to Ezekiel, I need to get off my stony, callused feet and onto the flesh of my knees.
One of the unexpected blessings of the hiatus was the calluses on my feet healed up. When I checked them out today, for the first time in a few years, they were more like human flesh than like the pumice I use on them. My pumice stone is part of a pedicure paddle, and on the other side of it is a thing that's remarkably like the cheese grater / lemon zester tool I use in my kitchen. Except I use it on the bottoms of my feet. And often the calluses are so thick it doesn't even hurt.
So, does this have a scriptural point? Why, yes. It does. Because I have still been reading in the book of Ezekiel, from Chapter 11:
18 And they shall come thither, and they shall take away all the detestable things thereof and all the abominations thereof from thence.
19 And I will agive them one bheart, and I will put a cnew dspirit within you; and I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them an eheart of flesh:
20 That they may awalk in my statutes, and keep mine bordinances, and do them: and they shall be my cpeople, and I will be their God.
I keep thinking of this phrase, "stony heart."
When we sin, we feel bad. It hurts us when our hearts are soft because we're each born with a conscience, given to us by our Heavenly Father. That's like a central nervous system for our soul.
It's like when we accidentally touch a hot stove. The heat would damage us, and the pain tells us to stop.
So, in a strange way, the pain is a good thing. A warning system.
However, if we repeatedly burn our hand, after a while it gets deadened and we can't feel it as much.
That, or in the case of a callused-over blister, our flesh actually hardens.
Likewise, our spirits can harden. If we ignore the pain of sin long enough, it can make our hearts like Ezekiel said: stony.
Anyway, I was thinking about it. When we do stuff we shouldn't, and it hurts, we basically have two options to help us stop feeling sad/bad about it. 1) We can repent. 2) We can keep sinning and develop a spiritual callus (i.e., "harden our hearts.")
It can harden to the point that it doesn't even hurt when we scrape a cheese grater over it. We ignore it, until we barely notice we're constantly walking around both harmed and callused.
Ezekiel says when Israel is gathered, they will put aside their "detestable things," and when they come to Christ, He will give them a heart of flesh and take away their stony heart.
Then they can walk in His statutes and ordinances (like taking the sacrament) and be His people and He is their God.
The Lord wants soft hearts. He is a God of soft hearts.
And another important point is we don't have to make the exchange. I don't have the skill to turn rocks to flesh. But He does. He turned water into wine. He can and will turn stone into softness.
All we have to do is put aside our detestable things and come to Him.
And so, according to Ezekiel, I need to get off my stony, callused feet and onto the flesh of my knees.
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.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Heavenly Help for Those Sleepless Nights
Do you ever have those days (or sleepless nights) when
memories of stupid things you’ve said or done come flying back at you and pain
you like scorpion stings? It doesn’t even have to be major mistakes—because
even just the faux pas of social interaction can cause the soul to cringe and
shrink.
I happen to have a lot
of these. In fact, I’d venture to guess that because I’m both a talk-a-holic
and a bit impulsive, I have maybe more than anyone else. Oh, maybe pride tells
me that. Or maybe because on those nights when I can’t sleep and memories of
these idiotic things fill my mind in a seemingly endless parade of painful
recollection, I can’t imagine anyone could have more, and if they did, they’d
have my sincerest compassion.
Like the time I called the CEO of one of the largest
employers in the state of Utah
So, anyway, these and so many, many, many others come back
to me and make me feel like a total, blithering idiot. Frequently. I get
thoughts like, “How could any one person
be so dumb?” Or worse self-worth destroying thoughts as the faux pas progress
into serious mistakes that might really have hurt someone but it’s far too late
to know how to repair them.
The other day I was reading in Exodus, the part where the
“fiery flying serpents” attacked the Israelites while they were still during
their 40-year wander. It says that lots and lots of people died from these. But
then it says that Moses went to the Lord and asked what to do to heal the
people, and God told him to make a serpent’s likeness. Moses held it up, and
all the suffering people had to do was to look
at it and they’d be healed. Many did. But many
didn’t. Because they didn’t believe it would work. Because it was too easy.
And instead they suffered and writhed and died.
Of course this is a symbol of the loving grace of Jesus Christ,
his suffering in behalf of our sins. All my life I’ve heard this story and
wanted to think I was someone who would look to God and live, repent rather
than suffer.
However, the other day, as I was thinking back on some
negative experiences in my past, things that gave me those “scorpion sting”
memories, I ached to not recall them with pain. Many of them should simply be
“lessons learned,” things I could look at dispassionately as part of a less
mature version of myself who could take that experience and grow. I mean, it’s
not like I look back at myself learning to ride a bike and feel so sorry and
bad about myself for crashing a few (a lot of) times and gouging up my knees
and elbows in the process. Those memories don’t cause emotional anguish, no. Why
should social things I had to learn by (sad) experience? Maybe they shouldn’t.
Maybe…maybe I didn’t have to suffer them. Maybe I didn’t
have to have those sleepless nights be plagued.
Maybe the solution was much
more simple than I’d realized. And it had been there all along. And I
simply hadn’t taken advantage of it. And I could just look to God and live. Stop dying over these dumb little
(or big) things.
Let Him heal me.
Because the atonement of Jesus Christ is big enough. It’s big enough for the huge
sins. It’s big enough for the tiny stings that we inflict on ourselves and
others. It can heal those we hurt. It can heal those who hurt (including us!)
Including me.
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