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.

Heavenly Time Management

I think it’s funny how just when you get to the point that you think you’re so swamped or busy or overwhelmed that you couldn’t possibly handle one more thing, that’s when the Lord hands you something huge to do.

And you find you can.

With His help.

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.

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 “Captain Micron” --to his face. Or the time I fake-hyperventilated when I got pulled over for speeding. Or… No. I’ll save you the pain. And besides. This is a blog, not an epic novel. And these are just the mildest of the mild. (Note: This is one big reason why I’m a novelist. Because then I get to spread all my thousands of most embarrassing moments over scores of characters, instead of centralizing them all in one person. They’re more believable that way.)

 

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.

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;

 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.

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.