It's Not How He Looks That Matters

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.

When is Not-Enough Enough?

Lately I have had a few worries about whether or not what I am, what I do, what I have... all those things... whether it's enough. Maybe I'm not the only one who stresses about those things. It's tough to be part of this world where there are always outside forces telling us "more" is what we need to be/do/have. It's why I avoid Pinterest like the plague. I can never be/do/have all of that, and it cripples my self-esteem when I spend time there.


Anywayzzzzz. So, I'd been praying about this. How could what I am/do/have be enough? Ever? It seems like I lack so severely! Others with even less (in the way of means or health or whatever) seem to get by so well, and seem to do so with grace and faith. Why couldn't I just trust God and let Him care for me? That, too, was a worry. Why wasn't my faith enough?


Nevertheless, there are times when I look at myself and think, This is obviously going to fall short--way, way short. The great thing I'm shooting for can never, ever, ever be accomplished with the current resources. It's impossible.


Enter...the scriptures. They are so good! They are there for me! The life of our Savior illustrates all these great principles and how to handle even moments of mom-misgivings and fears and lack.


So I was reading along in the New Testament, John chapter six, where Christ feeds the multitude. There was a huge crowd. They were hungry. There was no food. Christ asked Philip what they were going to do, just to prove him.


Okay, I'll just copy and paste the words from the KJV.


5 ¶When Jesus then lifted up his eyes, and saw a great company come unto him, he saith unto Philip, Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat?

 6 And this he said to prove him: for he himself knew what he would do.

 7 Philip answered him, Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one of them may take a little.

 8 One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, saith unto him,

 9 There is a lad here, which hath five barley loaves, and two small fishes: but what are they among so many?

 10 And Jesus said, Make the men sit down. Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, in number about five thousand.

 11 And Jesus took the loaves; and when he had given thanks, he distributed to the disciples, and the disciples to them that were set down; and likewise of the fishes as much as they would.

 12 When they were filled, he said unto his disciples, Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.

 13 Therefore they gathered them together, and filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves, which remained over and above unto them that had eaten.

As I read this, a phrase from in verse eleven jumped out at me like it was neon-lit:

and when he had given thanks

It was after He took what little he had, and gave thanks, and shared with others, that there was enough. No, there was more than enough. There was excess beyond what they started with.


It hit me that if I give thanks for the things I have been blessed with, and share with others, that God can make my meager means enough. No, more than enough. That He can, when I show gratitude, turn a pittance into a fortune.


I've heard it said that faith and fear cannot coexist, and so I am going to have to dump my fear. Sacrifice it. Give it up. Dang it, I find I hold onto it hard. It's going to take faith I am short on and trust that He can make me and my efforts and my means enough to accomplish His great work in whatever it is He requires of me, whether it is in my home or my family or in my efforts to serve Him. That He will multiply my efforts, which are OBVIOUSLY not enough, and make them enough.

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.

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?

 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.