Tuesday, December 15, 2009

They Have Looked Forward and Rejoiced

As we remember the Lord’s birth this Christmas season, it is easy to take for granted the privilege we have of being able to look back. People can (and unfortunately do) dispute the Savior’s divinity and his teachings, but none can deny that he in fact lived. For thousands of years, that wasn’t the case.

Instead, even though prophets taught and testified of the coming Messiah, many refused to believe, and in fact, openly challenged, ridiculed, and even attacked the prophets who taught that the Son of God would come into the world to redeem the world from sin. Speaking of these devout followers of the unborn Christ, Paul says:

others had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover of bonds and imprisonment: They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword: they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented; (Of whom the world was not worthy:) they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.[1]

Nephi, a Book of Mormon prophet who lived just a few decades before Christ, similarly spoke of prophets who were “driven out” or even “slain” because they testified to the people, even “a great many thousand years before his coming” that “even redemption should come to them” through Christ.[2] And Christ himself acknowledged the sacrifice of those who came before when he told the parable of the husbandmen who beat, mocked, and wounded the servants God sent before sending his Son.[3]

And yet, through all of this, those who “saw of his coming” were “filled with gladness and did rejoice.”[4] They “have looked forward,” boldly and without fear, “and have rejoiced in his day which is to come.”[5] And because of their faith, Christ “is with them, and he did manifest himself unto them, that they were redeemed by him; and they gave unto him glory, because of that which is to come.”[6]

So as you look back on the wonderful story surrounding the birth of Christ and rejoice in his day which has come, pause to remember all those wonderful men and women who paid such a heavy price to rejoice in his day which was to come and be willing to make a similar stand in the faith of that which is still to come.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

A Christmas Thought

I came across the following talk, given nearly 50 years ago this month, by happenstance last weekend, and it has set the course of my Christmas this year. Each year, I try to have a "theme" for my month-long celebrations of Christmas—some idea I try to ponder or some change I try to make as a gift to the Lord. I got this year’s theme from a scripture shared in this talk: “Behold I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.”[1] This Christmas, I am working to open the door of my heart and my life to the Savior--to open it wide--so that He can come in and sup with me.

The talk also had the following beautiful thought about celebrating Christmas: “Of all times of the year, at Christmastime [we] ought to be the most joyful, ought to have greater cause for festivity than anyone, ought to enjoy the Christmas tree and the holly wreath and the stockings and the mistletoe and gifts and toys and children and even reindeer that can fly! When you accept the true account of the birth of Christ, it will indeed "Bring thee the light of thy childhood again."

So that is my Christmas wish for each of you—that the joy of the Lord may bring you the light of your childhood again this Christmas!

“The Light of Thy Childhood Again” by Pres. Boyd K. Packer

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Hard Sayings

It must have been exciting to be in Galilee during the beginning of the Savior’s ministry. You really get a sense of that in the opening chapters of John. First, after centuries of silence, a prophet walks out of the wilderness of Israel, preaching repentance and baptizing all who would believe. As his following grows, the Jewish leaders send representatives to ask him whether he is one they have been seeking for so long—the Christ, or Elias, or that prophet spoken of by Moses. As he always did, John the Baptist pointed their attention away from himself, and toward the man whose path he was sent to prepare.[1]

As John bore his witness of the Christ, his disciples listened, and began to inquire for themselves. And so the fire spread, as it always does, by brother telling brother, and friend telling friend. Andrew, hearing John’s witness, took the Lord’s invitation to come and see for himself.[2] Andrew in turn told his brother, Simon, who came to the Lord and had his name—and his life—changed forever.[3] The Lord sought out Phillip, who in turn told his friend Nathanael, and the Savior’s following grew.[4] It grew further after the Lord went to Jerusalem for the Passover and performed mighty miracles.[5] It reached fever pitch after the miracle of the loaves and the fishes, when the crowd, thinking they’d found an end to life’s struggles, sought to “take [Jesus] by force, to make him a king.”[6]

But Christ was already a king, and the people’s misperception—of who he was and what it meant to follow him—had to change.[7] So Jesus taught the Bread of Life sermon, explaining that his role as Messiah was spiritual rather than temporal,[8] and that to follow him would require them to give up all of themselves to receive all of Himself in return.[9]

For most of the crowd, the price was too high to pay. Many, even of the disciples, “when they had heard this, said, This is an hard saying; who can hear it?”[10] And “from that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him.”[11] Certainly Jesus was not surprised by this, “he knew what was in man”[12] and knew “from the beginning” those who did not believe him and those who would betray him.[13] And yet, you can sense the sadness that must have been in his voice as he turned to his closest disciples—the Twelve—and asked “will ye also go away?”[14]

This is the challenge that faces all of the disciples of Christ, ancient and modern, who are faced by “hard sayings”—those situations where the demands of discipleship clash with the demands of the world or the desires of our own hearts. True Christian discipleship requires us to give all that we have and all that we are to follow him[15] and abide in him.[16] So when we are faced with our own “hard sayings,” there really are only two choices: We can, as many disciples did at the time and as many have done since then, turn back and “walk no more with him.” Or we can, as Peter did, respond to the Lord’s question with love and determination: “Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life. And we believe and are sure that thou art that Christ, the Son of the living God.”[17]

Thursday, October 1, 2009

To Stand in the Evil Day

I came across the following quote while reading a book review in the Wall Street Journal:

“When an insecure, malleable, relativistic culture meets a culture that is anchored, confident, and strengthened by common doctrines, it is generally the former that changes to suit the latter.”

(Reflections on the Revolution in Europe by Christopher Caldwell.) Caldwell was referring to the difficulty Europe has had in assimilating increasing numbers of Muslim immigrants, but I was struck by the position of true strength occupied by disciples of Christ.

So often, it feels the other way around—that to be a follower of Christ in our day is to set oneself up for ridicule as a narrow-minded, intolerant fundamentalist who is hopelessly out of touch with modern realities. Of course, this reaction is to be expected: belief in, and proclamation of, the existence of any absolute strikes at the heart of relativism. And in any case, the Lord warned us beforehand to expect this kind of reception. (See John 15:18-22.) But Caldwell’s words are a good reminder that in the face of such strident opposition, the best reaction is simply to continue to stand.

Like Jesus, God’s prophets have warned that the true followers of his Son would be mocked. (See 1 Nephi 8:26-28.) But they have also taught that such mocking is ultimately as harmless and insubstantial as mist to those who stand firm in the faith of Christ. (See 1 Nephi 8:24, 33-34.) In Christ, we find a spirit of “power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” (2 Timothy 1:7.) The Lord promised those who walk in his name that “I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.” (Matthew 28:20.) Because of this promise, no matter what comes our way, we can go forward “armed with righteousness and with the power of God in great glory.” (1 Nephi 14:14.) Faced with the storms of life, we can build our foundation on Christ, “a foundation whereon if men build, they cannot fall.” (Helaman 5:12.) And confronted by the “wiles of the devil,” we can “[p]ut on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand.” (Ephesians 6:11.)

After all, as Paul implies, sometimes the most we will be able to do is to “withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand,” (Ephesians 6:13), at least until the day comes when Jesus shall appear in his glory and “every knee shall bow” and “every tongue shall confess” that Jesus is the Christ. (Romans 14:11.)

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Life in Abundance

The account of Jesus walking on the water to save his disciples is one of the most incomprehensible—and wonderful—miracles recorded in the New Testament. Having just finished teaching and ministering to the people, the Savior told his Apostles to board a ship and cross the Sea of Galilee while He dispersed the crowd. (Mark 6:45.) Christ then went to a mountain to pray, where He saw them “toiling in rowing, for the wind was contrary to them.” (Mark 6:47-48.) It must have been a difficult night, because the disciples were still at it by the fourth watch—somewhere between 3:00 to 6:00 in the morning—when the Savior came unto them, “walking upon the sea.” (Mark 6:48.) Unsurprisingly, the disciples were astonished and “troubled” by what they saw. Thinking they had seen a ghost, they all cried out. (Mark 6:49-50.) Lovingly, the Savior “immediately” talked with them, telling them: “Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.” (Mark 6:50.) He joined them in the ship, calmed the winds, and saw them safely to the other side. (Mark 6:51.) Describing the disciples’ feelings at this point, Mark records that “they were sore amazed in themselves beyond measure, and wondered, for they considered not the miracle of the loaves.” (Mark 6:51-52.)

Just a few hours earlier, while Jesus was teaching the multitude, the disciples had faced a different problem. Five thousand men, along with their families, had followed the Lord to a “desert place” to hear Him teach. (Mark 6:35, 44.) The day was now “far spent,” and, knowing that they didn’t have enough food or money to feed such a group, the disciples advised the Lord to send the people to their homes for the evening. (Mark 6:35-37.) Instead of sending the people away, Jesus had compassion upon them and asked the disciples to gather food and organize the people in companies on the grass. (Mark 6:38-40.) The disciples brought Him what little they had—just five small loaves and two fishes—and Jesus took the food, blessed and broke it, and gave it to the multitude. (Mark 6:41.) Not only was everyone able to eat, they were able to eat their fill, with 12 baskets of food to spare. (Mark 6:42-43.)

I wonder what the disciples, toiling at their oars in the middle of a windy, difficult night, should have considered about this miracle as they saw a dim figure walking toward them in the night. As I consider the miracle of the loaves, with the benefit of retrospect the disciples did not have, I am reminded of similar situations both earlier and later in the Lord’s ministry where He “manifested forth his glory” to satisfy others’ scarcity with his abundance. (See John 2:11.) In Cana at the start of His ministry, when Mary was faced with a lack of wine at the wedding feast, Jesus satisfied her soul in drought (see Isaiah 58:11), transforming between 130-195 gallons of water into some of the finest wine the ruler of the feast had ever tasted. (John 2:1-11.) In Jerusalem at the end of His ministry, when the Apostles faced the dawning realization of impending separation from the Lord, Jesus transformed bread and wine into a beautiful remembrance of His life, His love, and His coming sacrifice for them—and all of us. (See JST Mark 14:20-25.) Perhaps the Lord’s greatest transformative miracle was performed on the Apostles themselves. These men, who seemed “unlearned and ignorant” to the world (see Acts 4:13), were given power by the Savior “to become the sons of God” (see John 1:12) and to eloquently and powerfully preach his gospel to “all nations” (see Matthew 28:20), including powerful civic (see Acts 24-26) and religious (see Acts 4:5-21) leaders of the day.

At the heart of this pattern that runs throughout the Savior’s mortal and post-mortal ministry is the reality that Christ is the only true source of lasting abundance in this life and in eternity. As we come to Him with our needs—whatever our needs—He will pour out blessings without measure, until our cup runneth over (Psalms 23:5) and there is not room enough to receive it. (Malachi 3:10.) As we come to Him in our weakness, he will make us strong. (2 Cor. 12:9-10; Ether 12:27.) Those blessings may not come immediately—the disciples toiled a possible 9-12 hours at sea before Jesus came to them. (From even (6 pm) to the fourth watch (3-6 am), see Mark 6:47-48.) And they may not come without us feeling our weakness and our need—sometimes acutely. Miraculous wine was not provided until the guests demanded of Mary wine that was not there (see John 2:3), and Paul’s “thorn in the flesh” was overcome rather than removed. (see 2 Cor. 12:7-9.) Nonetheless, whether soon or late, “men and women who turn their lives over to God will discover that He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace.” (Ezra Taft Benson, Jesus Christ—Gifts and Expectations.) Or, as Christ Himself said, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.” (John 10:10.)

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Looking Back

The times I treasure most in life are times spent with loved ones. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, or if we’re doing anything at all, I’m content just knowing that those I love are close at hand—sitting in the same room or within easy reach down the hall or up the stairs. As a result, family gatherings on vacation, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and other special occasions are the hallmarks of every year.

This time last year was one of those treasured times. I had nearly two months between the end of one job and the start of the next, entirely at my disposal. We spent the first week moving across the state to where my new job was located. Our second child was born soon after, and one peaceful, unhurried day followed another as our family quickly slipped into a happy, idyllic routine. Of course, although the days passed slowly, the weeks and months passed quickly, and before too long my first day of work at my new job arrived. One of the hardest things I’ve done was to say goodbye to my 2-year-old son that day, understanding—as I know he couldn’t—that I was closing the door on a sweet chapter of life that will never return. During that slow day of orientation, with too much time to get lost in my thoughts, nostalgia for the days gone by welled up inside me like a physical ache. I longed to go back in time to relive those days with my little family, although of course, that was impossible. As the days passed, that ache subsided and I moved forward into a new job and a new routine.

I was reminded of those days again this week as I stepped back into the routine of work after a wonderful week last week spent gathering with family to celebrate the wedding of my youngest brother and the births of three little ones born during the last few months. For a few precious days, my entire family was gathered together in easy reach in the place of my birth and my college—a place that feels like a second home. The familiar ache came in stages this time—saying goodbye in the morning as family (and we) scattered one by one back to their homes or driving away in the afternoon from a place where memories form so thickly as to become almost tangible. I thought I had handled things pretty well as we got back home late that night, but I was in for one last surprise. Heading out the door the next morning, I was hit with a wave of longing so strong that I felt dizzy as I shut the door on my sleeping family. I took a deep breath, kept walking to the car, and gradually faded back into my routine.

Reflecting on my love of family and my longing for our times together, I am reminded of one of the Lord’s “hard sayings” (see John 6:60):

Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law. And a man’s foes shall be they of his own household. (Matthew 10:34-36.)

As if that weren’t tough enough, He continues:

He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me. (Matthew 10:37-38.)

For me, that last part is the key. As dear as family relationships can be, if they get in the way of our love for and devotion to the Savior, then our priorities have been misplaced. Or as Jesus put it on another occasion, “No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:62.)

Thankfully, when we choose to follow Christ and take up our cross, we suffer no real loss. Instead, “he that loseth his life for [Christ’s] sake shall find it.” (Matthew 10:39.) That life found in Christ is rich and abundant, just as he said it would be. (See John 10:10.) This includes our life with treasured relations. I read once that, for ancient Hebrews, numbers and repetition are a way of expressing qualitative as well as quantitative reality. Viewed in this light, the Savior’s promise of receiving “an hundredfold” of “brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife or children,” both “now in this life” and “in the world to come” (see Matthew 19:29; Mark 10:30) takes on new meaning. The promise of rich relationships with family now and through eternity properly turns our focus—and our longing—toward Him and His kingdom, making the treasures of this world—even the really precious ones—pale in comparison with His abundance.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Eyes That See

When Jesus began his ministry, he taught in a plain manner that was easily understood by all who listened. (See, e.g., Matt. 5-7.) After a time, however, as the people continued to reject his words, he began teaching through parables, which were much more demanding on his listeners. When his surprised disciples asked about this change, the Lord explained that his listeners “seeing, see not; and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand.” (Matt. 13:10, 13.) Building on this idea, the Lord referred to the teachings of Isaiah: “this people’s heart is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed . . . But blessed are your eyes, for they see.” (Matt. 13:15-16.)

Like Jesus, Isaiah sought throughout his prophetic ministry to help his people obtain the blessings available to those who see by faith. At the beginning of Isaiah's ministry, Judah was under threat of invasion from the allied forces of Israel and Syria. (See Isaiah 7:1-2.) Ahaz, the king of Judah, instinctively turned to Assyria, hoping that this powerful enemy of his enemies would be his friend. But, aided by God, Isaiah saw past this conventional wisdom and offered a different solution:

For the Lord spake thus to me with a strong hand, and instructed me that I should not walk in the way of this people, saying, Say ye not, A confederacy, to all them to whom this people shall say, A confederacy, neither fear ye their fear, nor be afraid. Sanctify the Lord of hosts himself; and let him be your fear and let him be your dread. And he shall be for a sanctuary. . . .

(Isaiah 8:11-14.) Sadly, if not surprisingly, King Ahaz chose the easy way and allied himself and his country with Assyria. His enemies were defeated, as Isaiah had prophesied they would be (see Isaiah 7:7-9), but within a generation, Judah's erstwhile ally once again sought to expand its empire southward, this time by conquering Judah. Only when the Assyrian armies were at the gates of Jerusalem did the people turn to God for protection. (See Isaiah 37: 15-20) He heard their cries and answered their prayers in a miraculous way (see Isaiah 37:36-38), showing the power available to those who rely on God.

Unfortunately, the failure to see does not just operate on the macro-level of international conflict. Upon landing after one of his many crossings of the Sea of Galilee, Jesus was approached by Jairus, one of the rulers of the local synagogue, who plead with the Master to save his sick young daughter's life. Jesus readily consented, but before they could arrive, some servants from Jairus's household delivered the news that his daughter had died. (Mark 5:21-24, 35.) But “[a]s soon as Jesus heard the word that was spoken, he saith unto the ruler of the synagogue, Be not afraid, only believe.” (Mark 5:36.) They continued to Jairus's house, where there was “tumult” and great weeping and wailing over the loss of the child. Seeing this, Jesus asked “Why make ye this ado, and weep? The damsel is not dead, but sleepeth.” (Mark 5:38-39.) The mourners responded by “laugh[ing] him to scorn.” (Mark 5:40.) Like Judah of old, they did not have eyes to see, and thus were not permitted to see the Lord extend his power to make good his word, commanding the damsel to arise. (Mark 5:41-43.)

Now we face great troubles at both the macro and the micro level. During the past year, the world economy has been shaken to its foundations, leaving nations across the globe to wrestle with challenging—and divisive—political questions. Meanwhile, the social moorings that once upheld the fundamental morals and institutions of society are not crumbling so much as being actively targeted for vicious attack by forces bent on sweeping them away in the tide of the “new” morality. All of these large-scale problems inevitably trickle down to create the individual challenges of unemployment, broken families, anger, frustration, worry, fear, and sorrow. And yet, in the spirit of Isaiah and the Savior himself, a modern prophet with eyes to see has once again pointed out another way. Like Isaiah, who understood the dangers posed by the Syro-Israeli alliance (see Isaiah 7:2) and nonetheless urged his people to find sanctuary in their God, and Jesus, who undoubtedly knew that Jairus's daughter was dead (compare John 11:11-14) and yet urged Jairus to believe, President Thomas S. Monson has recognized the difficulties of our day and yet promised that “[t]he future is as bright as your faith.” (Be of Good Cheer.)

By seeing things as Christ sees them—and thus seeing them as they really are (see Jacob 4:13)—we will find power to look past conventional wisdom and conventional worry and find sanctuary in the strength of the Lord. Bereft of the institutional supports that have sustained previous generations financially, politically, socially, or morally, we have a choice to be swept along with the powerful, destructive tides around us or to turn to the Lord, rely on his arm, and stand fast to see his salvation. (See Isaiah 52:10.) The message of prophets then and now is that, for those who have eyes to see, the Lord’s salvation is available to bless the lives of families and nations that look to him. Truly, our future will be as bright as our faith.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Days of Reckoning

Growing up, I loved trips to the dentist. It was an adventure to get out of school early and go somewhere outside the normal routine. Unlike a lot of people, I never minded opening wide or having various instruments stuck in my mouth. It was a challenge to see how long I could endure biting down on the gel fluoride. And at the end of it all, I got a “free” toothbrush and a balloon blown up with the air blower and twisted into shape as an animal or a sword. Now that I’m older, visiting the dentist isn’t nearly as fun—it’s become more like a day of reckoning. Neither thorough flossing the night before nor meticulous brushing the morning of can hide the fact that I’ve gone weeks without flossing. I know it, and the dentist knows it.

Of course, in the days and weeks beforehand—usually around bedtime—the thought comes to take a minute, grab some floss, and take care of my teeth. But more often than not, the lure of sleep, or a good book, quickly overrides that thought and I go about my nighttime routine. The moment is lost, but there’s always tomorrow. Tomorrow follows tomorrow, and before I know it, it’s time to go to the dentist again, hoping that somehow, I can hide my failure and that it won’t come back to haunt me in the form of a cavity.

All too often, the same thing happens with promptings from the Holy Ghost. As I go about my day, insights may come into challenges I’m facing or a scripture I've read. Planning to write them down later, I frequently find that when “later” finally rolls around, I no longer remember the insight—or certainly not with the clarity and power it had when it was fresh in my mind. Likewise, impressions may come to make changes in my life, usually to begin doing something I haven’t been. So I make plans to change my schedule to allow for this new activity, only to find that those plans keep getting pushed aside by the force of inertia or pushed into tomorrow by the lure of a more appealing activity.

The danger of tomorrow is that by the time it becomes today, it may already be too late. Of course, through the Atonement of Christ, the decision to act is never ultimately late. But it may still be proximately late, like it was for Oliver Cowdery, who, when given a chance to help translate the Book of Mormon, failed to follow through and saw the window of his opportunity close. (See D&C 9:1­­-5.) Failures like these never hinder the Lord or his work; he will always find another servant—a Samuel or a Joseph Smith—with ears to hear his word and hands prepared to act when the Elis or Olivers fall short. The tragedy falls instead on the shoulders of those who could have served, had they acted promptly on the call.

And so, I begin this blog over a year after receiving the call (see Sharing the Gospel Using the Internet by Elder M. Russell Ballard), hoping that the window of my opportunity has not closed and that it is not too late for me to say, like Samuel of old, “speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth.” (See 1 Samuel 3:9-10.)