How Should I Approach Prayer?

The Savior Jesus Christ visited the American continent after his death and resurrection. He taught them and blessed them and organized His church among them. The incident is recounted in the Book of Mormon, my favorite book. I love the Bible too and the stories of Christ's life in Jerusalem while He lived His perfect life of service on the Earth.




At the end of the first day of His teaching of the people in the New World, He told them He was going to leave, but that He would come again on the morrow, so please go gather up all their friends who hadn't been there that day.




However, then a miracle occurred--even beyond what miracle they'd experienced already. When He announced this, they looked on Him with tears in their eyes, as if they would ask him to stay.


They didn't have to say anything. He knew the desires of their hearts.




And because of the desire of their hearts, he said, in great love, that they could bring to Him their sick and afflicted, and that He would do for them what He'd done for their brethren in Jerusalem: heal them.




As I read this a few days ago, I thought about this, and several things struck me. One, that the Lord truly saw and knew the deep desires of their hearts. Two, that their eyes were trained on Him, and filled with emotion.




I wondered to myself, would that be a better way to approach my prayers? To (mentally/spiritually) train my eyes on Him, and then express my deepest desire to be healed, and for my loved ones to be healed physically and spiritually?




Maybe so. And I have a lot to learn about the true nature of prayer, it would seem.

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.

When You Have to Say No

Quite a few years ago, my husband was asked to serve in a certain position in the Church. His family has always taught him, just as mine has taught me, that when the Lord asks, the answer is yes.


However, in this case, there were some real complications to saying yes. Without going into detail, there were phone calls made to higher ups in the state as well as in the Church, and ultimately, my husband had to say no, he wouldn't be able to serve.


(Strangely to some, I'm sure) this was kind of a trial. Part of me wanted to know why the Lord wouldn't just let the issuers of the invitation know that my husband wasn't going to be able to do it and inspire them to move on to another man instead.


I thought about it for a long time.


It also made me reflect on something that had happened a couple years before that. I'd been serving as the president of an organization. At the time that organization seemed very difficult to staff with leaders. As president it was my responsibility to seek spiritual guidance and make recommendations on who might be right to serve with me. However, it seemed like my recommendations were regularly rejected. But I'd been so certain! I started wondering if I even had any right to inspiration or if I was just a total dud.


These two situations I juggled mentally for a long time. Finally, I talked with someone who suggested a completely different idea to me. He said,


Sometimes the Lord will inspire a leader to ask someone to serve, not because that person will ultimately fill the position, but so that the person being asked will know that the Lord considers them *worthy* to serve in that capacity. It is a confirmation to them that God loves them.


Huh. This put a new spin on things for me entirely. I reflected again on the many names I'd tendered to the bishop years before asking for help in my organization that were ultimately not selected. And I realized that the Lord hadn't given me bad information, and that He hadn't either left me high and dry. And that my spiritual guidance detector hadn't necessarily been broken. (Frankly, that was my greatest fear.)


And so, I realized too that this may relate to young men and women who have been out serving as missionaries and for one reason or another have come home before the originally planned time period, despite their worthiness and willingness to serve.


But I think it's good to recall that life is more of a "to be" list than a "to do" list. And the "to be" in all these cases comes down to those two "W" words: Willing and Worthy.


So, I guess those two "W" words are what I guess I should work on this week. And remembering that the Lord loves me. And you. And all of us. And He is aware of our hearts and wants to let us know in myriad ways of His great, abiding love.

When the Light Comes On

Last night when I got home from the youth group meeting (after being gone from 3 p.m. to almost 9:00), I was beat. But my 9 year-old said, "Mommy, can you help me with my math?"


Sigh. It has been a long year with the workbook she's using. It just won't click with her cute little mind. So we sat down and ... it was long division.


Do you remember learning long division? Was it the easiest, most fun thing ever? I'll wager my whole plate of blueberry muffins it wasn't.


I had a feeling we had a long night ahead of us.


Step by step I worked the first problem. Then I handed her the pencil and walked her through the second problem. And the third, and the fourth. Then on the fifth, I put her on her own. She started great. And got stuck. She couldn't remember to bring down the digit. So I drew an arrow on all the earlier problems, and then she drew the arrow on her own and brought it down. The visual clue kind of helped.


She worked it, found the answer, and then ... the smile. "Oh, Mommy. I think I get it."


She didn't. On the next three problems she got stuck in the same place after bringing down the digit.
But with a little reminder, telling her to look at the problems she'd done earlier for the steps, she did get it. She did!


Then I wrote down the steps:
1- Goes into
2- Multiply
3- Subtract
4- Bring down
Repeat 1, 2, 3, 4.


Maybe that won't make sense to anyone else, but it was how we were talking it out. I wrote it in the front cover of her workbook.


She worked the rest of the problems--including the story problems, and anyone out there who doesn't give a slight shudder at the term "story problem" ... is pretty much alone.


When we shut the book an hour later, she said, "Mommy! Long division is easy!"


The light had come on. And it shone! Not some dull little 20 watt bulb, either.


She went to bed happy, and so did I.


So this morning, I helped her double check last night's work with multiplication, and she still remembered the formula and still thought it was easy.


Is that success? I submit to you, gentle readers, that it is.


So now I sat here remembering the sweetness of it and thinking, I wonder if this is how the Lord feels when he has given us a challenge, walked us through it a few times, held our hand, given us the chance to work it out ourselves, and then sees us think we learned it, and then sees us rejoice when the light of understanding and growth really comes on.


I truly believe He rejoices with us. And I believe He gives us problems--including stuff akin to long division, and even worse, story problems of life, and the guidance to get through them. Best of all, His Son was there to set the example for how to get through any and all of our struggles. He felt the pain and will bless us through them.


He is the perfect Teacher.


I love Him so dearly.

Finding Peace in Times of Despair

A dear friend of mine lost a child last month, right before Christmas. He was a sweet little boy, so precious. Their loss is terrible and heartbreaking.
And yet, as I read how she is faring, through all the sorrow, I continue to see positivity, strength, faith and hope.
How does she do it?
Well, all her posts refer to her great belief that there is life after this life, that death is not the end, that the children who belong to us here will be ours even after we die, that families are forever--in other words, that the eternal family is part of God's great plan for His children.
In times of extremity we can feel to despair. Without sure knowledge, how can we help but feel tempted to do so? However, setting aside doubt is possible. And when we do, when we let go of doubt, we can find incredible peace. It's like a door in our souls opens up and lets in a wash of light that brings happiness and hope and direction.
I admire my dear friend's faith, and especially her willingness to sacrifice her doubt. Because that's what it is--a sacrifice. Her strength is a strength to me. I think of the losses I've faced in my own life, though not the same as hers, and I can see that belief is so much happier and better than unbelief. Surrendering the crutch of doubt lets me run in the light of faith.

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.

Getting Off Nephi's Path

This morning I was studying the scriptures about happiness, and I read 1 Nephi 8:10. “And it came to pass that I beheld a tree, whose fruit was desirable to make one happy.”

 

Now, we all know Nephi sees the interpretation of his father’s dream and that the fruit of that tree is the Love of God. I started to think about this happiness, this fruit, this love.

 

My husband has a little orchard. It’s a baby orchard, and this is the first year we will have any fruit. But we do! And there are some fruits out there right now, just waiting to be picked. Pomegranates, apples, and such.

 

It occurred to me that I ought to think of Lehi’s dream fruit like that—just there, waiting. I can go pick it or not. But it’s ready anytime I want it. It won’t pick itself. And it won’t force itself to be tasted, but it’s ready. It’s available. It’s delicious.

 

All my life as I’ve studied Lehi’s vision, I’ve thought of those different groups on the pathway to the Tree of Life. Many are “pressing forward.” And it seems like it’s taking them a lot of effort to cling to that rod. And then, of course, there are groups that don’t make it.

 

When I put myself into this vision, I’d always ask, “Am I clinging to the rod? Am I on that path?” or various questions about whether I was dipping my toe in the filthy water or getting blinded by the mists or heeding the sneers of the people in the great and spacious building across the way. Oh, how I hoped I was on that path! I just desperately wanted to move toward that love.

 

Someday, I thought. Someday!

 

However, when I looked again, I realized Lehi called to his family, and Sariah and Nephi and Sam came immediately. They ate right away. There was no implication that the iron rod that led to the tree was a thousand miles long, a lifetime long.

 

This morning, it occurred to me. I’m not on that path.

 

I’m already at the tree. I have TASTED that fruit! In fact, I’ve been at the tree for a LONG time. I’ve been tasting the fruit, sharing it with my family, trying to share it with the people over whom I have stewardship in church callings and things. Yeah, I’m still clinging to the iron rod of God’s word—trying to, at least. And there are still dangers even once you reach the tree. We just need to keep eating it, and let it, as Alma taught in Alma 32, “be a tree springing up unto everlasting life.”

 

Anyway, maybe my problem with hesitation to share the gospel, to holler out to others to come and taste the fruit is this mental image of where I placed myself: on the path. But mentally I need to get off the path. Recognize that I’m at the tree, and we can all be—right away.

 

It’s time to go invite my dear ones to come and taste.