O That I Were An Angel

Me Blustering on my Trumpet

I have graduated from Ammon this week and been reading in Alma 29. I read it a year ago and wrote out some thoughts before, but this time I felt like I was rediscovering it, so went through and changed some of my notes from before. It starts out in verse 1:

"O that I were an angel, and could have the wish of mine heart, that I might go forth and speak with the trump of God, with a voice to shake the earth, and cry repentance unto every people! Yea, I would declare unto every soul, as with a voice of thunder, repentance and the plan of redemption, that they should repent and come unto our God, that there might not be sorrow upon all the face of the earth."

Like I talked about in my last post about Ammon, I have been troubled by this gospel sharing stuff in my life, so The Book of Mormon is on a roll here. What is my role in other people's lives, and how am I supposed to help them in the gospel? Are not members of the Church supposed to "wear out our lives" preaching repentance? Are we not our brother's keeper? What are we supposed to do, how far are we supposed to go in our efforts? Is there a limit to how far to push? When do we live and let live? What is the formula?

So Alma's story is terribly unfair. He went around like a rotten twerp trying to mess up the church his Father worked so hard to establish. And then what happened? He got the elite angel treatment to get him back on the straight and narrow. And then he was High Priest and prophet. Yes, it was a "harrowing" experience he had to go through first, and of course he had to repent and try and undo the damage he had done. But he had the miracle, the angel, the divine intervention that saved his soul.

In that poignant verse, I feel and can relate to his frustration. "O that I were an angel!" an angel like the multitude of angels that have saved me in my life. So often I see where I have ended up, based on divine interventions and miraculous displays from my own angels: parents and leaders and teachers and friends I didn't deserve, and I shrink at the injustice of it. I see others who keep on sinning and approaching misery and I think "Why not intervene for them? And if you won't send an angel, then for heaven's sake let me go be that angel to smarten these people up! They would have to repent with my thundering voice. It worked for me!"

Verse 3:

"Nevertheless I do sin in my wish; for I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted me."

SIN? Sin sin sin sin sin! Well, there's another one. But why on earth would it be a sin to wish to cry repentance! Well it's not, except for how you do it. What are my motives for sharing the gospel? When I am honest with myself, I have to admit that often for me, pride is a major motivator, and I hate that. Sometimes I do things because I want to feel like I am good enough somehow. Sometimes I want my own glory.

So my methods sound a bit like Satan's plan. My own glory, plus incorporating Satan's idea of coercion and force as a means to an end. Geez Louise. But on the other hand, just imagine if Satan's sophistry, urging, and manipulative argument were used for good! We'd have Zion well established in no time. 

Remember Gandalf? "Don't tempt me Frodo! Understand that I would use this Ring from a desire to do good, but through me it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine." (Haha, LOTR references are da best.) Like Gandalf once considered, as Frodo held out Sauron's ring of power, what if I could use a voice of thunder and coercion to do good! What a happy, righteous world I could make with Satan's tools!

Alma continues,

"I ought not to harrow up in my desires the firm decree of a just God, for I know that he granteth unto men according to their desire, whether it be unto death or unto life; yea I know that he allotteth unto men, yea he decreeth unto them the decrees which are unalterable, according to their wills, whether they be unto salvation or unto destruction."

God's ways are different. Alma acknowledges this frustrating and marvelous truth:  God gives us what we want. "He granteth unto men according to their desires" whether unto life or death. No righteous man, not even the prophet Alma, can meddle with that.

How is that for models of parenting:  "You want it? You want to eat that stick of butter that will make you throw up later? Are you sure? OK, here you go kids!"

Well not really like that, I guess. It does say for "him that knoweth good and evil," he lets us have it. For example, I don't ask Lucia whether she would like a diaper change or not. 

But here on earth, each of us have, in a sense grown up enough in heaven and we have all moved out of Mom and Dad's house and we are making our own choices and following our own desires. If I am a grown man and choose to play video games all day instead of get a job, for example, Dad can try and persuade me to be responsible and grow up, send messengers, awesome CEOs to the house with intriguing job opportunities to tempt me out of unemployment, but he can't force me. I am my own man, now. Yes, God gave me my body, this earth, my stuff, but in a remarkable manifestation of love and respect, he gives me the chance to choose what to do with it. Use it, abuse it, waste it, or invest in it for eternal reward, it's up to me. He respects my right to choose in this exciting new world of agency and choices.

So why did Alma get an angel? I guess we are told actually:  because of the prayers of his righteous parents and other church members. Prayer matters. Quite often it is all we can do. He hears our pleadings for our wayward friends, siblings, children, parents. So going back to Alma and my question. What do I do for someone who is making a wrong choice? Well, there's prayer. Is that all? Well, if I have stewardship over someone either as a parent, a family member, or friend, I guess I can try to teach them, share with them my experience and testimony. How? Well, certainly not with the thundering trumpeting voice of an angel, maybe because the voice of an angel coming through me, a struggling sinner, would sound like a self-righteous, hypocritical whine. Less like a trumpet and more like a squeaky bagpipe full of hot air.

So going back to my original question:  how does someone as imperfect as me teach the gospel? What is the solution? How far do I go? What is the formula?

The formula is love. It has only ever been love. Perfect love is the only intervention. Only Christ has that ability because only he loves perfectly, but he gives us some of his love when we ask for it. Then He gives us opportunities to serve and develop that charity by reaching out to each other. Not with our own motives or agendas. But with His love and in his way. It happens, not as often as it should, but when it does, it is a miracle. Like when a home teacher who, with love unfeigned, serves a family and invites them back. Or a mother who never stops praying every night, for years, that one day her child will return to the gospel path. Or when someone forgives a terrible betrayal of trust. Or a friend who continues to love and support and be there for someone, in spite of their wrong choices.

Act and teach and persuade with as much love as you feel, and if you need more, pray for more of it, and Christ will give it to you. If you are not doing it out of love, stop doing what you are doing and pray for some. Pray with "all energy of soul, that you might be filled with that love." It is that part for me that takes great effort, "all energy of soul" and incredible selflessness and patience to obtain, which I usually don't have on hand. Sometimes it's too hard and I end up blustering at people to get their act together, sometimes just in my head. That's not helpful. I know it's not. It is love, only love, that can permanently change people's hearts, and when we have it, we can be guided to know what to do by the gentle, still small voice of the Holy Ghost.

In conclusion:  in my desire to do good, it is perfect love that makes miracles. And unfortunately for me, it is there that I have my work cut out for me.

A Quiet Ammon

Alma 17-20

I have been reading those chapters this week. They tell the story of Ammon. Ammon the missionary, the arm-chopping, service-oriented, falling-to-the-ground-unconscious-with-joy guy. It is quite a bizarre story, really, but with some great lessons.

I have always felt a lot of anxiety about missionary work. I love the gospel a lot. It has absolutely changed my life. I want to share it. I am excited about the truths I am discovering and how they change my life and give me hope. I would be a poop if I didn't try to share it somehow.

But how do I share it? Well, surprisingly, one of the things I learned in these chapters is to just be quiet.

When when I left on my mission, Dad gave me a Father's blessing and told me to study Ammon. I always remembered that. In past readings, I took it to mean that the key part of missionary work is service and love, which it absolutely is.  Before Ammon even opened his mouth about the gospel, he offered to be Lamoni's servant, and he served with enthusiasm.

"Surely there has not been any servant among all my servants that has been so faithful as this man; for he doth remember all my commandments to execute them."

Executed all his commandments indeed, and then executed a bunch of people too. Oh, Ammon. What a guy.

And maybe Ammon might have been a sneaky twerp at first and just wanted to serve him to convert him. I don't really know. But doesn't love come after serving someone anyway? Maybe we all kind of fake it at first. When we first get that Home or Visiting teaching assignment do we really love those people on a slip of paper? Some might, but I don't usually. Does that mean we sit around and wait for that love before we serve/visit them? No. When we really serve someone, after time that love grows and it gets real. We learn in later chapters that the love that Ammon developed for the King was so strong and real, to the point where he would risk death defending Lamoni from his Father who tried to kill him on the road. Then it says that the King of the Lamanites, Lamoni's father was so moved by Ammon because he saw that love, and ended up being converted also.

"And when he saw that Ammon had no desire to destroy him, and when he also saw the great love he had for his son Lamoni, he was astonished exceedingly..."

Love. Service. Miracles. Good stuff there, and something I am fumbling with and working on. As always, without charity we are nothing but sounding brass and tinkling cymbal.

However, what impressed me this time reading these chapters was how Ammon also knew how to be quiet. After cutting off the arms and being a hero, saving his flocks, and then remembering to prepare Lamoni's horses as an impressive bonus, he asked,

"What wilt thou that I should do for thee, O king? And the king answered him not for the space of an hour."

An hour is a long time to just sit there staring at each other. It would be awkward. I don't like that kind of silence. I can't help but think that if I were Ammon, I would be rattling off some lesson or principle or testimony after five minutes of an awkward pause. I am there to convert the Lamanites! Let's get this party started! Why didn't Ammon do that? Why did he wait for so long?

Well, first maybe he let Lamoni sort out his thoughts. If you have shared or served or done something for someone, let them think about it on their own. People should not be told what to think. Maybe people need time to come to their own conclusions. Have faith that the Spirit can work on them in the Lord's time. Secondly, I'm sure Ammon wasn't just staring and thinking about his hangnail in that hour. He probably prayed that the Lord would do his thing. And he probably prayed hard that he would have the spirit to know what to say.  In that "hour" or month or year period of time, maybe we can just be quiet and pray: pray for the right words, and pray that God will go ahead of us to prepare hearts with the Holy Ghost, which is something we can never do alone. Ultimately, this is not our work. Christ is the Good Shepherd. It's his job to look after his sheep. At best, we are mediocre shepherds, and that's only if we do our best.

Another point is that Ammon's acts did the talking in this instance. He chopped off arms and saved the day, and then was humble enough to do a simple act of service like preparing the horses for the King. Let our actions speak. Talk is cheap. Oh, how I need that lesson sometimes.

In the words of President Uchtdorf:

"You and I may speak most eloquently of spiritual things. We may impress people with our keen intellectual interpretation of religious topics. We may rhapsodize about religion and "dream of [our] mansion above." But if our faith does not change the way we live--if our beliefs do not influence our daily decision--our religion is vain." (He will Place You on His Shoulders and Carry You Home, April 2016)

I remember Grandpa Matkin, specifically with parenting but it goes broader than that too, saying, "There are only three ways to teach the gospel. The first is example. The second is example. If that doesn't work, then try example." Nicely put.

After that awkward hour, King Lamoni was finally ready to listen, and Ammon "being filled with the Spirit of God" was ready to teach. That was when the miracle of conversion happened. In Joseph Smith's words, "he that preacheth and he that receiveth, understand one another, and both are edified and rejoice together" (D&C 50:22).

That doesn't happen with eager little interjections at any hint of interest, pouncing like a crouching cheetah, with words like "I know exactly the answer!" and other zealous words. Even if you are right, seldom will you go away edified and rejoicing together that way. Yes, this is something I am terrible at doing. You have all probably been victim to this, for which I apologize. My blog post itself might fit this category. Again, sorry.

So based on the story here is my summary for how to share the gospel.

The Ammon Missionary Method
1. Prepare through prayer and fasting and scripture study. (Oh, that is in the backstory I didn't mention. Alma 17:3 Kind of important.)
2. Serve! Develop love!
3. Live the gospel in such a way that people notice your mad skills at cutting off arms (or some other related activity.)
4. Be Quiet. At least an hour. Let God do his thing, preparing both you and the individual.
5. Teach according to "the spirit of prophesy." Not with your own words or clever understanding of the gospel, but with the Holy Ghost.

Basically, my lesson to myself, which may be different from your lesson, is to quit skipping ahead to step 5. Steps 1-4 allow the Lord to be more fully involved in the process. It invites the Holy Ghost. For me, I need to learn to be quiet.

Does this mean I will be quiet and end my scripture study blog posts? Oh, probably not, but one can always hope.

Little Stones that Shine

I had a hard week--nothing terrible, just weary and a few things didn't work out the way I wanted them to. As we all do, I guess, I wondered yet again why things don't seem to work out. I have nothing if not good intentions, but I usually come up short in the end. So last Friday as I lay pondering my apparent failures and lackluster attempts at life, I thought about the Brother of Jared and his journey to the promised land in dark suffocating barges. I re-read the story this weekend, focusing on Ether 2-3. Read it.

First off, who on earth would get get in those little pitch dark, suffocating, "tight like unto a dish" barges, with no steering, no air, and only hope they would get blown across the ocean to the right spot in a new land thousands of miles away, and manage to crawl out alive?

And yet here we. As spirits we willingly boarded our frail, darkened, suffocating, mortal vessels, and came to earth to receive a body and be tested. We somehow had enough faith that the Lord would steer us home to the promised land, across the overwhelming ocean of a fallen world, and back to God. It's a trope that shows up more than a few times in the scriptures. I can picture and identify well with the Brother of Jared staring hard at those little barges on the beach, gazing out at the endless ocean horizon, seeing the crashing waves, and probably feeling a fair bit of panic: 

Ether 2:18-19

And it came to pass that the brother of Jared cried unto the Lord, saying:  O Lord, I have performed the work which thou hast commanded me, and I have made the barges according as thou hast directed me. And behold, O Lord, in them there is no light; whither shall we steer? And also we shall perish, for in them we cannot breathe, save it is the air which is in them; therefore we shall perish.

In other words, "Um, Lord? These barges you designed? There is no light, no way to steer, and no air. We are all going to die."

Of course, the Lord provided the answer for the steering and for the air. First, I'll blow you where I want you to go. Second, go cut a breathing hole in the top and bottom of your "tight like a dish" barges, and just seal it up if the ocean pours in on your head, quick, before it sinks you. (Not all that comforting, but sure.)

Then comes the Brother of Jared's piercing question that has resonated with me so much this week.

Ether 2:22

"O Lord, wilt thou suffer that we shall cross this great water in darkness?"

There are many times when I feel like I am sailing in the dark. The Lord's response brought me great comfort, and then a challenge:

Ether 2:23-25

What will ye that I should do that ye may have light in your vessels? For behold, ye cannot have windows, for they will be dashed in pieces; neither shall ye take fire with you, for ye shall not go by the light of fire.

 For behold, ye shall be as a whale in the midst of the sea; for the mountain waves shall dash upon you. Nevertheless, I will bring you up again out of the depths of the sea; for the winds have gone forth out of my mouth, and also the rains and the floods have I sent forth.

And behold I prepare you against these things; for ye cannot cross this great deep save I prepare you against the waves of the sea, and the winds which have gone forth, and the floods which shall come. Therefore what will ye that I should prepare for you that ye may have light when ye are swallowed up in the depths of the sea? 

Whatever "mountain waves shall dash upon [me] and whatever depths of the sea swallow me up, the Lord has "prepared me against these things." Because of the Lord, I can be "as a whale in the midst of the sea." I can make it through hard times. Because of the atonement and resurrection, we all can pass through the gulf of death and sin and arrive on the shores of the promised land, eternal life. Because of Christ, I am "prepared against theses things."

But when it comes to lighting, there is this challenge: "What do you want me to do?" He puts some of that responsibility on us.

We know the story. The Brother of Jared gets to work making clear white stones out of molten rock. This must have involved no small effort to melt down and refine rock until it was clear glass. Incredible heat, pressure, and time to make these sixteen little stones. Then he took these stones that still did not give off any light by themselves, made the trip to climb the mountain, and asked:

O Lord, thou hast said that we must be encompassed about by the floods. Now behold, O Lord, and do not be angry with thy servant because of his weakness before thee; for we know that thou art holy and dwellest in the heavens, and that we are unworthy before thee; because of the fall our natures have become evil continually; nevertheless, O Lord, thou hast given us a commandment that we must call upon thee, that from thee we may receive according to our desires.

Behold, O Lord, thou hast smitten us because of our iniquity, and hast driven us forth, and for these many years we have been in the wilderness; nevertheless, thou hast been merciful unto us. O Lord, look upon me in pity, and turn away thine anger from this thy people, and suffer not that they shall go forth across this raging deep in darkness; but behold these things which I have molten out of the rock.

 And I know, O Lord, that thou hast all power, and can do whatsoever thou wilt for the benefit of man; therefore touch these stones, O Lord, with thy finger, and prepare them that they may shine forth in darkness; and they shall shine forth unto us in the vessels which we have prepared, that we may have light while we shall cross the sea.

Behold, O Lord, thou canst do this. We know that thou art able to show forth great power, which looks small unto the understanding of men.

And then the Lord puts forth his finger, touches those lackluster rocks, and makes them shine.

I love that dialogue and the faith to ask the Lord to touch his lackluster rocks and make them shine. As I consider my little stones of effort as a Dad, as a husband, as a missionary, as a friend, as a brother, in my church callings; as I think about all the things I try to do on my own and the many ways things don't work out, all my good intentions that sit there like rocks in the dark, I am reminded how important it is that we to go back to the Savior and ask him in faith to put forth his finger and bless our attempts. In the words of the sacrament hymn, "Bless our efforts day by day." (Hymn 170 God Our Father, Hear Us Pray) 

And like the Brother of Jared said, I also have found that more often than not, the miracles and light of Christ shines in great power in ways that "look small unto the understanding of men." It is by small and simple things, not grand manifestations, that God does his work.

Christ is the light of the world. He is the only one who can help us cross the deep not in darkness, but in light. There is significant temple imagery in this story that is worth pointing out. As we make the effort to attend the temple, ascending the mountain so to speak, in our own way we can present to God our little stones of discipleship and ask the Lord to make them shine. He is willing to put forth his hand to accept our offering, and like Moses we can descend back to the world with our countenances illuminated, and our daily work ready to shine with his light. As we serve each other and keep our covenants, our daily efforts that may be dull and lackluster can shine if we remember to rely on Christ. His light, through us, can illuminate the way for those that we share space with on our voyage in our terrifying little barges of mortality.

I was reminded studying this profound little story this weekend how much I need to stop making my stones shine on my own. I was reminded how I need to increase my faith in the Savior, turn to him with my efforts, and let him stretch forth his hand, letting him shine his light and do his work through me.

A Nation Turns Its Lonely Eyes to You

“Make America Great again,” someone said.

Then opened a floodgate of long-suppressed and unresolved tensions, troubling questions, divisions, anger, and then a full-blown American identity crisis. What does it mean to be great?

Does greatness mean power? Does it mean demanding the respect and admiration of other nations, the drive to be “the best, believe me, the very best”—the very best in healthcare, the very best in education, the very best in military strength?

Suddenly America is intensely self-conscious, constantly comparing itself to other nations, obsessed with its own deflated status. How do we fix this? Donald Trump, "a nation turns its lonely eyes to you."

Does greatness mean a bustling economy--riches, jobs, resources exported and imported relentlessly out of the earth to feed a bottomless hunger for something better, something new—another flavor of Oreo cookies, a new smart phone upgrade, a better and faster car?

There is “a famine in the land” (Amos 8:11) and America has a hunger that all the Wonderbread in the world could not possibly satisfy. Donald Trump, "a nation turns its lonely eyes to you."

_____________________________________________

I was disgruntled at first about the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sullying itself in the debacle that was the inauguration of a Donald Trump. My feelings changed, however, when I listened and thought about the words of “America the Beautiful.” I was happy that my church would sing a message that I love and agree with in the midst of such turmoil.

America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

America the beautiful, and it is still, but there is indeed ugliness in America as well. When aspiring greatness is built on contention, anger, pride, fear, selfishness, and abuse, that kind of worldly greatness will always be ugly. So what could possibly make America beautiful again? Is it higher walls, tougher laws, extreme immigration vetting?

It is love, or to use a more precise word—it is charity, the “pure love of Christ" that defines greatness and beauty.

Charity is love that “suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things." (1 Corinthians 13:4-7)

Without it, all America’s apparent greatness is, as Paul said, quite literally nothing, just "sounding brass and tinkling cymbal (1 Corinthians 13:1) And now, most unfortunately, America has cast its vote for the biggest, loudest conglomeration of “sounding brass and tinkling cymbal” imaginable. Donald Trump--a president who shuts the doors to the suffering:  refugees, including the most vulnerable children who are starving, drowning, and being bombed in their beds, dying in the most terrible ways imaginable, and turning them away because of their religion. A person who justifies torture as an effective means of dealing with contention, "fighting fire with fire" he recently said. A man who takes advantage of the vulnerable and glories in sexually assaulting women and justifies it as "locker-room talk." A man who grinds the faces of the poor and calls it business. A man easily provoked, puffed up in his own greatness, refusing to offer an ounce of compassion to anyone. This goes beyond politics, the back-and-forth checks and balances of two political ideologies. This is a turning away of bedrock principles of morality and decency.

But Trump is not America, and America is better than that. To find its true greatness, the nation must turn its lonely eyes elsewhere, not to Trump and his outrageous claims, neither do we turn to the backlash, the battleground of debate. We turn inwards to see our own personal faults and lack of charity, and then we turn to Christ, asking Him to give us more of His love. One by one.

America! America!
God mend thy every flaw
Confirm thy soul in self-control
Thy liberty in law!

It will take some painful changes. Charity is not a feel-good, comfortable kind of emotion. Charity, though its definition has evolved in a weird way in America, is not about throwing money around to organizations in order to get a tax-break. It is soul-stretching and excruciatingly difficult. It requires action and courage. Charity is something I fail at again and again, and every time I read the requirements, I see that I have a long way to go. We must suffer long and be kind. We must vaunt not ourselves up. We don’t rejoice in iniquity. We are not easily provoked. Perhaps most especially, as Paul says, we endure, believe and hope for better times ahead, because all other things must “vanish away, but charity never faileth.”

 Because charity is, in all seriousness, the only thing that can save us now. The only thing at all.

Satan Comes First

I attended the temple yesterday, and I was struck with the way God answered Adam's prayer. There they were, Adam and Eve, both full of faith as they built an altar without knowing why, doing exactly what they were supposed to, begging the Lord for some much needed direction, when who should appear? Not God, but Satan, with his impudent claim of lordship over the earth. As usual, he was eager to peddle to them his usual wares: the philosophies of men mingled with scripture.

This sometimes bothers me. Why wasn't God more on the ball? Why didn't he step in right away and answer their prayer first, respond more quickly to their sincere demonstration of faith? Why the slowness to respond? Why the wait?

As I was thinking about this idea, how God answers prayers, I realized there is a kind of pattern in the scriptures. This actually happens again and again. When someone requests knowledge, God usually stands by and lets Satan do his song and dance first. Very often, when a prophet in the scriptures needs direction from God, it is Satan who is first on the scene.

Jesus tempted, by Carl Heinrich Bloch

1. For example, we have Moses. After seeing all of God's creations and being left in a physically weakened and vulnerable state, and full of questions, having "other things to inquire of [God]"; in that state, who should appear but Satan, showing off, trying to look cool, and commanding him to "worship me." (Moses 1)

2. Another prophet, Elijah, retiring to the mountains to seek direction for his ministry and being left alone, was first subjected to the impressive displays of the wind, the earthquake, and the fire (and the Lord wasn't in any of those), and not until afterward did God speak to him with the still small voice, and instructing him how to proceed with his prophetic ministry. (1 Kings 19:11-13)

3. When Jesus Christ began his ministry with a fast for forty days in the wilderness, Satan immediately comes waltzing in to tempt him, trying to win over even the Son of God with vain and selfish offers, cunningly matched and supported with scripture. (Matthew 4:11) Not until afterwards did angels minister to him.

4. And most recently, Joseph Smith, seeking to know which church to join, was first encompassed with the powers of darkness before he persisted in calling out to God for aid, and then he received the First vision, followed by all kinds of angels and messengers which opened up this last dispensation. (JSH 1:15-16)

The pattern in the scriptures seems to be this:  a person seeks further knowledge, Satan eagerly and quite forcefully offers what he's got, pointing out his lordship over the world, his money and carnal pleasure, his endless preaching and theologizing, and then the person has to decide if his goods are what they're looking for. If they aren't, if the worldly logic and philosophies don't satisfy the longing in his soul, and if he persists in seeking messengers from God, then God will step in to teach him eternal truths.

Not just prophets, but all of us deal with tough questions and all of us need personal guidance and answers. I have personally wrestled with some tough questions. I am often frustrated that, even when I am doing all that I am supposed to, praying sincerely and really searching the scriptures, listening to the prophet, attending church, etc., I don't get immediate answers from God. In fact, I often get kind of the opposite. My first attempts to search out answers bring out a barrage of opposition to the faith I have been taught since primary. The moment I start seeking is when I am faced with even more doubts. Suddenly, I am presented with a whole banquet of exciting and stimulating reasons why this church is mistaken, why this claim is unreasonable, or that prophetic teaching is not all that wonderful. There are all kinds, an endless supply it seems, of philosophies of men mingled with scripture that could assuage my struggle. People step in from all sorts of places, from strangers on the internet to very close friends, each calling me over with a solution that offers to take care of my worries.

I often have to ask myself:  am I satisfied with worldly, man-given explanations, or do I long for answers from above? Am I looking for "messengers from Father to teach me?" Too many friends I know have abandoned the gospel, as taught by the Lord's authorized servants--those rather plain, ordinary, unpopular, unexciting men--because they found the world's teachings to be more interesting or desirable.

Over the years, my answers have grown like a sunrise does, starting out dim on the horizon, but growing brighter to illuminate a dusky sky. Judging by my continuing struggle and lingering questions, I would guess for me it is still only the early hours of dawn; just barely light enough to move forward, and there is still such a long way to go. But I can say that I know enough. I know that I am a son of God, and I know that Jesus Christ is my Savior, and that this is His church. I did not learn it from "flesh and blood":  from scientific methods, from lively and engaging debates, from video blogs, podcasts, or from good and learned teachers, even parents, church leaders, and friends, all of whom are mortal earthly sources, and therefore unreliable. I have listened to the many voices, weighed them out, studied them, but ultimately, I have received this knowledge and testimony from God by the Holy Ghost.

If anyone is ever troubled or discouraged that seeking guidance from God seems to just bring up more doubts and stirs up more trouble, remember that Satan always comes first. Stick with it. Keep seeking until you get an answer from heaven. Don't settle for worldly explanations. Remember that opposition and testing is part of the plan, and the alternatives need to be attractive enough for it to be a valid test. If you keep exercising faith, holding on to what you know, God's answers will come to you, and you will know it, because it will be like a "well of water springing up into everlasting life" and you will never thirst as you move forward in searching further truth from Heavenly Father.

Irrigation and the Latter-day Saints

I didn’t water my garden consistently this year, and boy did it show. As I pondered my pitiful, burnt plants this September, roasting up in the Alberta sun, and saw the hose that sat next to it all summer long that I just neglected to turn on, I thought dismally that my pioneer ancestors would be unimpressed. I totally failed them. They, who practically created a garden paradise out of dry rock, and I am looking pathetic with my shriveled tomato plants and a hose.

You see, Mormon pioneers knew how to water their plants.

When the Latter-day Saints came into the Salt Lake Valley, which was kind of like their last hope at a “promised land” after being violently driven from the luscious, green, and fruitful lands of Missouri and then Illinois, they were settling, essentially, in a desert. In 1847 and immediately upon arriving, along with beginning a temple, Brigham Young oversaw the damming of the river. Together the Saints began the arduous task of digging canals and ditches to sustain themselves and their expanding population in this foreign Utah wasteland. Irrigation was definitely not a new concept back then, but the Mormon people were the first group in the West to really go crazy and use irrigation on such a large scale. And you might say they perfected it. Mormon pioneers completely transformed the landscape: communities sprouted up all around the state of Utah and Idaho, then extended up into Canada all the way down to Arizona and then down into Mexico. They planted crops and trees and fruit orchards and beautiful gardens, and they all sprang to life miraculously where little vegetation had been growing before. They established a bustling economy built entirely on irrigation. They truly made “the desert blossom as the rose.” (Isaiah 35:1)

And like I mentioned, Mormon pioneers came to Canada. I live there. Here in Southern Alberta, irrigation is a part of our heritage. My own great-great-grandfather, Charles Ora Card, brought the irrigation techniques and principles he practiced in Northern Utah and applied them to his founding town of Cardston. Canals and ditches were soon expanded, conducting water through Southern Alberta fields to allow the arriving Mormons to settle outlying communities like Raymond, Magrath, and Stirling.

Then, more recently in the mid-20^th century, a man named Asael Palmer, a leader of the LDS Church in Lethbridge and Superintendent of the Experimental Station (Research Station), expanded irrigation even further in the Lethbridge area and made it into better farmland. My grandparents tell me they remember the days before Palmer’s initiative to irrigate, and how dust storms would descend upon them regularly and fill their cupboards and houses with sand. Irrigation was revolutionary to Southern Alberta. Whatever a person thinks about the belief system of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you have to give them credit for knowing how to use water.

My forbearers taught me that community improvement is built into my religion. As children in Primary, we grew up singing a song called “Give Said the Little Stream.” One LDS lady with dementia that I know, a humble farmer’s wife who can remember very little, can still sing every word of that song when I walk her down for supper at my work. She sings,

I’m small I know, but wherever I go,
The grass grows greener still.
Singing, singing all the day, ‘Give away, oh give away!’
Singing, singing all the day, ‘Give, oh give away!’

Our work of irrigation as Latter-day Saints is meant to go beyond the physical landscape. Today, instead of irrigating dry fields, we are given the charge of irrigating a world that is drying up in disbelief. Our message brings new life to individuals that are dried out because of sin or doubt. I have seen the transformation happen, and it is a miracle. Our actions should be motivated by principles of selfless service and love, and they can turn the driest desert into a fruitful garden. Our message of hope through the gospel of Jesus Christ can refresh individuals who may feel at times like withered plants.

The water source of the Latter-day Saint communities in the intermountain West has always been the mountains. The run-off from those mountains, when collected, pooled together, and shared selflessly, sustained large populations. Our spiritual water source also finds symbolic emphasis in the mountains. Latter-day Saints often refer to our sacred temples as “mountains of the Lord.” This is a reference to the Old Testament practice of using mountains as places of communion and instruction from God. It is also a reference to Isaiah’s prophesy that “the mountain of the Lord’s house (temple) shall be established in the top of the mountains.” (Isaiah 2)

In the Old Testament, the prophet Ezekiel saw in a vision great waters flowing out from the temple mountain. As he first waded out with an angel “the waters were to the ankles.” A thousand cubits further out and

“the waters were to the knees. Again he measured a thousand, and brought me through; the waters were to the loins. Afterward he measured a thousand; and it was a river that I could not pass over: for the waters were risen, waters to swim in, a river that could not be passed over.”

He then looked out at the once dry, barren landscape surrounding the mountain and saw that the water that had gone out from the temple had healed the land. (Ezekiel 47)

The healing water is the atonement of Christ. The full access of His grace is found in making and keeping covenants in His house. We are promised divine help in the temple, and then we descend down from the mountain to the arid, burnt-up social landscape we live and work in and use the power of the priesthood to heal and bless. In the temple we receive the living waters that are meant to not only sustain ourselves as individuals, but to make us into “little streams” ever “giving away” to our families and to our communities. As weak, simple saints in training, we are prone to weakness and mistakes, and we pull it off with varying degrees of success. But we always try, and like Ezekiel saw, the water continues to rise from the shallow water at our ankles until it is over our heads in preparation for the Second Coming of the Christ.

I am grateful for my legacy of irrigators. Some ancestors were irrigators of land. Even more impressive to me are the irrigators of souls:  parents and grandparents and countless others in my life that spend their lives giving themselves away in service to others, always singing, in their own way, “I’m small I know, but wherever I go, the grass grows greener still.” I am hopeful that my feeble efforts to irrigate this world will look less like my mangy tomato plants this September, and more like the fruit trees of my ancestors. I am hopeful because I know that the living water is Jesus Christ, and like the canals in the area, I will continue trying to carry forward some of His water as it flows down from his house in the mountains.

Joseph Smith and the Facts

I recently read about the label "post-factual world" to describe our politically charged method for gaining information. The article describes a world where facts are secondary to ideology, and where one's preconceived beliefs are like blunt instruments to hammer and shape uncomfortable facts to fit better our own ideas. This happens on both sides of the political spectrum. There are many complex, important issues that need nuance and understanding, but our current system for obtaining knowledge with nuance is broken.

We get our information more and more from social media, where our friends often think the same way we do, and ideas we disagree with become muted. Outrageous claims live on and spread even after being proven false. Arrogant politicians and activists no longer have shame for lying because the fear of consequences is gone, so long as they support the greater ideology. Meanwhile, hoax news websites are doing better than ever, and the sheer volume of news information to sift through overwhelms anyone who wants to find answers. Facts are often swallowed up in the fat belly of the angry, arrogant, intolerant bologna makers. It is absurd, and it is violent. Social media is a battleground in the culture wars, and there are plenty of Facebook friend casualties.  It is a "war of words and  tumult of opinions" (JSH 1:10).

These are mad times. How do we get truth in all this? Does it even exist?

Joseph Smith lived in a similar "war of words and tumult of opinions" where "all the powers of both reason and sophistry" were employed to prove an ideology (JSH 1:9-10). Things really have changed very little since life in the burned-over district of upstate New York. I can easily imagine Palmyra New York on Twitter, tweeting their latest outrage at the Methodists or the Presbyterians, angrily arguing in lengthy comment threads on Brother Jones' latest inflammatory Facebook post about the definition of the Godhead. 

In all this, Joseph Smith went to God, saw a vision, restored truth, conversed with angels, translated an ancient book of scripture that restores doctrine and confounds error, and restored the ordinances that help us, even little old modern me living in 2016, to gain companionship to the Holy Ghost and navigate my way home.

I love the teachings of Joseph Smith, teachings like:

"Behold, I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you and which shall dwell in your heart." (D&C 8:2) 

"You must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore you shall feel that it is right." (D&C 9:8) 

"And as all have not faith, seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith." (D&C 88:118) 

"And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true...and by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things." (Moroni 10:4-5)

Joseph Smith teaches me that God is not just an idea. God is someone who cares personally about my questions and wants to answer them. Joseph teaches me that we are not alone, just muddling around in this mess of rhetoric, trying to piece together jumbled fragments to give coherent meaning to our lives. Joseph teaches me that science and study and education can bring me closer to understanding God. Joseph teaches me that the Holy Ghost is a crucial ingredient for obtaining truth. Joseph teaches me that it takes effort, and I must study out the arguments, wade through the facts, formulate my own ideas first, and go to Him. Without Him, I am forced to rely on my own biases and faulty intellect.

Joseph teaches me that God loves me enough to send angels and prophets and books of scripture buried in hillsides to challenge my ideas, push me to consider things I don't want to, answer my questions and guide me home. No defector from this church has ever given me a convincing argument about God being involved like that.

Truly Joseph Smith gave wings and an engine to the promise of "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not, and it shall be given him" (James 1:5).

Trouble is, you have to feel like you need wisdom first, before it is given. You and I, with all our access to education and knowledge, often feel ourselves puffed up in our own learning, setting aside the counsels of God, and supposing we know for ourselves how the world turns, what is wrong with the Church today, who is to blame for what latest tragedy, etc. (2 Nephi 9:28) I know I am like that.

May I be like Joseph. May I separate myself from the contemporary stand-ins for the Methodist vs Presbyterians:  the liberals or the conservatives, the new age Mormons or reactionary Mormons, pro-gun or anti-gun, black lives or all lives matter, gay pride or straight pride etc., each of them hammering out their philosophies of men on their keyboard pulpits until their fists are sore, recruiting for their congregations. Many of these philosophies have truth, pieces of the puzzle. But there is more, much much more, and unless we turn to God and his answers, we are being decoyed away.

May we all retire to our own forest of trees, kneel down and put aside our preconceived beliefs and self-importance, and with simple faith receive something more wonderful than any of them: that God is our Father, that he is intimately involved in our lives, that he has restored priesthood power on the earth, and that he is closer than we know.

After we know that, we can build. And when the rains come down and the floods come up, what we build will last forever, because of the rock upon which we build--the one true fact, the word made flesh, our Savior Jesus Christ.