faith

To be learned is good. Unless…

There’s a scenario that repeats itself in our family scripture study. Last night it played itself out in a pronounced way. On a daily basis, our family members take turns reading a particular chapter of scripture, one verse at a time, until we complete the chapter.

Jack, our youngest reader, reads somewhat haltingly, though considering the advanced language contained in scripture, it’s amazing that, at age 5, he can even make it through a verse. When he mispronounces a word, we quietly correct him and he keeps reading. Some of the time, anyway. Occasionally, he’ll say “I know that!”, not wanting to acknowledge any error on his part, however small.

Last night, he was over-the-top in the pride department, not wanting us to correct any mistakes. He barked at us to stop if we even suggested a pronunciation other than the one he had uttered.

So we zipped our lips, letting him say “president” instead of “priest” or, at times, something completely unintelligible, for the sake of not correcting him. It would have been laughable if it didn’t reveal a huge character flaw.

I mean, the kid is only 5. He’s super bright, having learned to read at age 4, and possessing an uncanny number sense. (He grasped the concept of multiplication long before starting kindergarten last month).

But he’s not so bright that he knows everything there is to know at age 5. He’s not so smart that he can’t use a little correction now and again. And he might be lacking in the intelligence department if he has already forgotten who taught him most of what he knows to this point-his parents, that is.

But this isn’t really about intelligence. It’s about pride.

I mean, how many of us as adults think we know it all and have no need for correction? How many of us would do better to realize that we didn’t come this far without the help of someone whose knowledge of the universe and life and everything else there is to know is far more vast than we can even comprehend?

It’s easy to chuckle at the audacity of Jack thinking we (his parents) had nothing to offer him in the way of basic phonetics. And yet so many of us do the exact same thing, in one way or another.

We dig in our heels on our “pet” issues, thinking that we know better than the God who created us and the universe. We scoff at living prophets and apostles when their counsel contradicts our own strongly held personal beliefs. We disregard good people as hateful or ignorant when their instruction questions the wisdom of our own personal choices.

To be fair, well-meaning people have been wrong before.

It is healthy to be skeptical of any number of opinions, as long as we can keep our personal biases at bay. Even prophets and apostles have occasionally given instruction that doesn’t quite line up with what is best. However, I personally try to be very cautious about allowing my own opinions to override what we are being taught by the Lord’s mouthpiece on the earth.

A Book of Mormon prophet taught:

“Yea, wo unto this people, because of this time which has arrived, that ye do cast out the prophets, and do mock them, and cast stones at them, and do slay them, and do all manner of iniquity unto them, even as they did of old time.

And now when ye talk, ye say: If our days had been in the days of our fathers of old, we would not have slain the prophets; we would not have stoned them, and cast them out.

Behold ye are worse than they; for as the Lord liveth, if a prophet come among you and declareth unto you the word of the Lord, which testifieth of your sins and iniquities, ye are angry with him, and cast him out and seek all manner of ways to destroy him; yea, you will say that he is a false prophet, and that he is a sinner, and of the devil, because he testifieth that your deeds are evil.

But behold, if a man shall come among you and shall say: Do this, and there is no iniquity; do that and ye shall not suffer; yea, he will say: Walk after the pride of your own hearts; yea, walk after the pride of your eyes, and do whatsoever your heart desireth—and if a man shall come among you and say this, ye will receive him, and say that he is a prophet.

Yea, ye will lift him up, and ye will give unto him of your substance; ye will give unto him of your gold, and of your silver, and ye will clothe him with costly apparel; and because he speaketh flattering words unto you, and he saith that all is well, then ye will not find fault with him.”

In other words, if a prophet’s counsel doesn’t quite sit well with you, maybe it’s worth listening a little harder.

I have seen several instances in recent months where members of the church have criticized counsel from a living prophet, all in the name of agency or their right to personal revelation. They fall on both ends of the political spectrum, but in both cases, they have pitted their personal beliefs against the prophets.

I think it is reasonable to examine the possibility that the prophet does not speak for God every time he opens his mouth. Yet I am also extremely careful to check myself and not assume that I am the exception to the rule when it comes to following his counsel. Especially when that counsel comes in the form of a formal letter written to the members of the church, or a talk given in general conference.

I hope that as a general rule, I seek not to counsel the Lord, but to take counsel from His hand. I hope that I can remember that His ways are higher than my ways and his thoughts than my thoughts. I hope that humility reigns supreme in my life, and that when facing a tough issue, I will seek the counsel of the Lord and those that speak for Him on the earth.

Otherwise, I fear I am not unlike a 5-year-old kid who mispronounces word after word while reading aloud, claiming that he knows as well as his parents, whose 40 extra years of life experience mean nothing to him.

Thoughts on the Sabbath – Sitting with uncertainty.

There’s a scripture that has often come to mind over the years as I’ve dealt with seemingly unfair challenges.  Nephi (in the Book of Mormon) is asked whether he knows the “condescension of God”.  He replies that he knows that He (God) “loveth His children, nevertheless I do not know the meaning of all things.”

An angel then proceeds to show Nephi the meaning of the “the condescension of God” in a vision.  The simple acknowledgement from Nephi that he can’t quite grasp a particular concept is meaningful to me.  It demonstrates that one does not have to be able to articulate the “whys” if one can simply believe the principle that God loves His children.

It is with that kind of faith that I am able to proceed through challenge after challenge in life.  Knowing that God loves His children allows me to sit with the discomfort of not knowing the outcome of a particular trial. 

Sitting with uncertainty is bearable when I know that God loves me and has my best interest at heart.  That faith in God and His love equips me with hope that all things will work together for my good.

Parenting requires that I impart of that hope to my children.  In this day and age, they grapple with issues I could barely have conceived when I grew up in the 90s.  I’m constantly left scratching my head to find answers to the complexities of their problems.  It doesn’t help that they feel so utterly alone in their trials.

I may not be able to offer solutions.  But I can offer my sure witness that God is aware of them.  He sent His Son to bear their griefs and carry their sorrows.  And, if we are willing to press on with faith in Him, someday we’ll understand what it was all for.

That day can come sooner or later.  But knowing that it will come makes all the difference.

A birthright or a mess of pottage?

I mean, which one would you rather have? An inheritance in Israel or a bowl of soup? The answer seems obvious, right?

In the Old Testament, the story of Jacob and Esau always puzzled me. I mean, the idea that the eldest son traded his birthright for a measly bowl of soup? Incredulous.

Honestly, how hungry (and short-sighted) would one have to be to sacrifice his entire inheritance to satisfy an appetite? It just made no sense.

Thousands of years later we live in a digital age where our appetites for pretty much anything (good or bad) can be satisfied with the click of a button.

We decry philosophies that involve any sort of denial of one’s self, proclaiming that “living authentically” is the be all and end all to our existence.

But what if what we think of as “authenticity” is contrary to our divine nature and birthright? What if delaying gratification allows us to achieve an inheritance in the afterlife? I personally believe it will.

What can we liken in our lives to Esau’s irresistible mess of pottage? What appetites are we satisfying today that compromise our ability to achieve all that our heavenly parents have and want to give us?

I can remember going skiing as a teenager and ending up on the lift seated next to a total stranger. We struck up a conversation and discovered that we’d both grown up in the same religion. He’d decided as a teenager that Sundays constituted valuable skiing time and eventually quit going to church in favor of spending the Sabbath day “in nature”, so to speak. He traded God for skiing. Could that be a mess of pottage, of sorts?

Or how about my grandparents, who decided that rather than choose the faith of their ancestors they wanted to spend most of their days on the golf course. They were good people. But in my mind, they had traded something eternal for something very temporary.

Those are fairly trivial. But a so-called “mess of pottage” can be anything but. What about a person whose sexual orientation doesn’t seem to mesh well with God’s commandments? One who longs for a fulfilling relationship but who has been taught that the bounds the Lord has set means that marriage will remain a distant (if not unattainable) reality, if he/she wants to keep the commandments, that is.

That’s super rough. Life can seem long and hopeless under those circumstances. I don’t blame anyone who chooses fulfillment in this life over the promises of the next when their reality is homosexuality.

And yet, when this life is over and those promises are fulfilled, might it seem silly that we chose the bowl of soup over eternal glory? Maybe. It all comes down to faith and patience, right?

I don’t have all the answers.

The good news is, we have a lot of time to figure it out. Esau may have sacrificed his birthright, but it’s not as if he lost everything. Twenty years later found Esau managing his own property, reconciling with his brother Jacob, and burying his father.

He was still blessed, despite having lost the birthright.

Isn’t that beautifully merciful and just at the same time?

I believe in a God who exacts standards of behavior in order to inherit certain blessings. I also believe that one does not have to be perfect to inherit some measure of those blessings.

Our inheritance will be in direct proportion to our level of commitment of keeping our covenants with him.

I personally hope I can keep my eye on the prize. Though the sacrifices I make to be true to my eternal covenants are at times exhausting, the payout is too great. And thankfully, I get glimpses of eternity often to remind me that living the gospel benefits me not just in the next life but today.

A mess of pottage might be just what we want in the moment. But my faith rests in the promise that my birthright is far better than a bowl of lentil soup.

Creation or big bang

Yesterday during Sunday School we discussed the Creation.  It always boggles my mind that scientists who deal day in and day out with the creations of our Heavenly Father fail so often to see His hand in it. The idea that God’s handiwork is simply a byproduct of a huge cosmic explosion and that we humans evolved from primordial soup makes me chuckle.

But then, I’m sure that my faith in a supreme being elicits a similar reaction from them.

In class, we watched this video and discussed the three accounts of the Creation to better understand whose work it was, what was done and why it was necessary.  One point that really hit home to me during this particular discussion was that God did not simply wave a magic wand to create the cosmos.  Matter existed in the first place.  Matter that needed only to be organized in a fashion that would fulfill God’s purposes to bless His children.

Now where that matter originated and who “created” it in the first place is a question to which I have no answer.  Still, I got hung up on the word “organize”.

You see, as a homemaker this makes perfect sense to me.  The idea that homes don’t create themselves.  They don’t just “happen”.  They take work, just as the home created by our Heavenly Father (the earth we live on, among other things) took work.

I’m always telling my kids: “We don’t live in a self-cleaning house.”  Or, “those socks aren’t going to pick themselves up”.  Entropy is real in my home.  Not only that, it’s a scientific principle.

All things will gradually descend into a state of disorder.  Unless.  Unless there is work.  Work performed by One who loves us enough to give us life and purpose despite our failure to recognize His hand in it all.

Just as my kids will never acknowledge the massive amounts of dirty socks I’ve picked up over the years.  Not that that even comes close but, well, you get the point.  Entropy is inevitable without someone to do the work.

Why are we so quick to buy into the idea that the magnificence of our earth, with all its beauty and order, its precise location in the solar system, its ability to sustain life for billions of people (and billions more creatures) is just dumb luck?

All things denote that there is a God.  Every time I see a magnificent sunrise, or listen to gentle raindrops of a long-awaited high desert rainstorm I feel like God is sending me little love notes.  Like He’s reminding me that His hand is over all, that He loves and watches over His children, just as I do mine.

I’m grateful for my faith.  For the underlying understanding that life on earth is simply an opportunity to prove ourselves.  I’m grateful to know who I am, a daughter of Heavenly parents, who love me and give me ample reminders of that love in the world that surrounds me.  It is glorious.  Life is glorious.

 

Is God a chauvinist?

There’s been a lot of press in recent years regarding women who are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints seeking priesthood ordination.  I’m not sure how much of it has garnered national attention-it might just be isolated to LDS circles and/or news outlets in areas where a high percentage of members of the church dwell.  Regardless, I feel like I need to insert my two cents, not only so I can put down on paper how I feel about the issue, but to clarify for my friends who are not members of the LDS church that not all Mormon women share the same views on this topic.

Just like that, our lives changed forever.

Less than a week ago I was gearing up for a return to “normal”.  Less than a week ago the biggest challenge in my life was the grief I was suffering from not being able to breastfeed.  Now that seems like chump change.  I don’t mean to minimize breastfeeding struggles, they send me plummeting into the depths of postpartum depression – read more here about how I feel when breastfeeding doesn’t work out.  Still, breastfeeding issues seem trivial in comparison to the happenings of recent days in our family..

This past Sunday I returned to church for the first time since Jack entered the world.  He was exactly a month old, I had missed attending with my family, I was geared up to teach a lesson in Young Women.