A Bold Witness of the Lord

When teaching the Gospel Doctrine class, I often quote Church leaders from the fairly recent past. Even though they served within the lifetime of our class members, I’m surprised that so few remember those men or can cite any of their teachings.

I treasure my memory of those men because so many were my spiritual mentors as I was growing in gospel knowledge and testimony.

One such mentor was Bruce R. McConkie, an outspoken witness of and for the Lord. But some members react strangely when they hear his name. Their eyes roll, they grin derisively, and their heads shake back and forth as if they can’t believe I’m even quoting him. They feel he was a “loose cannon” because he spoke with such boldness.

Truman Madsen said: “Living prophets can get involved in your life, changing it, giving specific commandments and counsels, rebuking, approving or disapproving, but dead prophets stay out of your hair” (Joseph Smith the Prophet, 18-19). Even though he passed away 31 years ago, Bruce R. McConkie is still “in the hair” of some members because he spoke with such plainness and boldness.

Elder McConkie died of cancer on April 19, 1985. I commend to all the book, “The Bruce McConkie Story,” written by his son, Joseph Fielding McConkie. It will give you insight into a life dedicated to one thing: preaching the gospel.

Here are a few excerpts:

1. Criticism followed Bruce McConkie like a shadow. He expected it and measured himself by it. “The measure of a man," he explained to his children, "is not found in who speaks well of him but who speaks against him. It is just as important to have the right enemies as it is to have the right friends." He was an agent of the Lord. "Agents represent their principal. They have no power of their own. They act in someone else's name. They do what they are told to do. They say what they are authorized to say—nothing more, nothing less." As the Lord's agent, he delivered the Lord's message. If people were offended with him for having done so, so be it.

 

2. My father called me several days before a Brigham Young University devotional at which he was to speak. He had been assigned by his Quorum to address a matter that would offend many. "Tell them to warm up the tar," he said. "I'm coming to speak."

 

3. In a general conference of the Church, he said: "What I am saying is what the Lord would say if he were here." He was strongly criticized by some for the audacity of that statement. Ironically, what preceded it was his testimony that each man who had stood at the head of the Church was the man chosen of the Lord to be his agent. Those who were offended with the testimony of Bruce McConkie were also those who would take offense with what the prophets of whom he testified had said and done.

 

4. As to the matter of our sustaining the living prophet, many were troubled when the Lord allowed President David O. McKay to lose his vigor some time before his death and then to have the same thing happen with President Spencer W. Kimball and President Ezra Taft Benson. I asked my father why he thought the Lord kept these men alive as long as he did. He pondered the question for a moment and then said, "Whenever the prophet ceases to be a vigorous voice, all the wolves come out to bay. Perhaps this is the Lord's way of allowing the wolves to identify themselves."

 

5. Elder McConkie did not seek to draw attention to himself and felt no need to dominate discussions. When his extended family gathered, engaging gospel discussions were inevitable. For the most part, he sat silent and often had to be prodded to say anything. On one such occasion, his Aunt Hortense said, "Bruce, it's a wonder your children learned to talk, having never heard anyone do so at home." When asked about his reluctance to say much around his extended family, he expressed concern about being misquoted and about having sacred things sensationalized. There were very few people with whom he dared shed his office and truly be himself.

 

6. When Bruce McConkie stood to speak in the name of Jesus Christ, and that is what he believed he was doing, he had no interest in being cute or funny. He followed the example of his mentors Oscar W. McConkie and Joseph Fielding Smith. Generally, if either of these men said something funny when he spoke, it was unintentional. If people laughed, these brethren were offended. They were not storytellers and did not feel that the declaration of the gospel and light-mindedness were compatible. Both of these men spoke at my missionary farewell when I was a young man. In my remarks, I made a number of what I thought were clever quips. Afterward, I overheard someone tell my grandfather McConkie that I would make a fine missionary. "Well," he said loud enough for me to hear, "if he can preach the gospel as well as he does nonsense, he will be fine." These were not humorless men. To be with them was always a pleasant experience, but each of them took preaching the gospel to be a serious thing.
                                                                                     

7. When a food faddist cornered Dad at a stake conference to advise him that there were people in that stake who ate both ham and chocolate, he responded, "You have no idea how widespread that problem is. Why just last Thursday after our Temple meetings the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve ate a meal together in the Temple and were served both ham and chocolates."

                                                                                    
8. He wrote an article for the Ensign entitled "The Salvation of Little Children." In that article he noted that the scriptures promise the fulness of eternal blessings to children who die before the age of accountability. This article and the expression of that doctrine engendered more criticism than anything else he ever wrote. One writer demanded the right to meet him in a public debate over the issue. As is usually the case, that may have constituted more of a commentary on his critic than it did on him.

 

9. An experience in Mexico: There he called a twenty-three-year-old man to be a stake president. When he shared the experience with one of his associates, he was asked, "What in the world are you going to tell the Twelve when they learn that the man you called as the stake president is only twenty-three years old?" Elder McConkie quipped, "That's easy enough. I'll just tell them I thought I should call someone who was older than the bishops."

 

10. Too much emphasis had been placed on certain well-intended goals, Elder McConkie said, leading people to lose their balance. One such fad at the time was that of developing a personal relationship with Jesus [the result of a book written by a member of the BYU faculty]. Noting that it was difficult to preach against such a doctrine, he explained that Jesus taught his followers to worship the Father, in his name, through the Holy Ghost. Thus, one who has the "mind of Christ" will do what Christ did, which was to worship the Father. It is a strange notion, he said, that we should single out one member of the Godhead for "a special relationship." If we were to do so, however, he said such a relationship should be with the Father, not the Son.

 

11. "We don't need to get a complex or get a feeling that you have to be perfect to be saved. You don't. There's only been one perfect person, and that's the Lord Jesus, but in order to be saved in the Kingdom of God and in order to pass the test of mortality, what you have to do is get on the straight and narrow path—thus charting a course leading to eternal life—and then, being on that path, pass out of this life in full fellowship. I'm not saying that you don't have to keep the commandments. I'm saying you don't have to be perfect to be saved. If you did, no one would be saved. The way it operates is this, you get on the path that's named the straight and narrow. You do it by entering the gate of repentance and baptism. The straight and narrow path leads from the gate of repentance and baptism, a very great distance, to a reward that's called eternal life. If you're on that path and pressing forward, and you die, you'll never get off the path. There is no such thing as falling off the straight and narrow path in the life to come, and the reason is that this life is the time that is given to men to prepare for eternity. Now is the time and the day of your salvation, so if you're working zealously in this life—though you haven't fully overcome the world and you haven't done all you hoped you might do—you're still going to be saved. You don't have to do what Jacob said, 'Go beyond the mark.' You don't have to live a life that's truer than true. You don't have to have an excessive zeal that becomes fanatical and becomes unbalancing. What you have to do is stay in the mainstream of the Church and live as upright and decent people live in the Church—keeping the commandments, paying your tithing, serving in the organizations of the Church, loving the Lord, staying on the straight and narrow path. If you're on that path when death comes—because this is the time and the day appointed, this is the probationary estate—you'll never fall off from it, and, for all practical purposes, your calling and election is made sure. Now, that isn't the definition of that term, but the end result will be the same."

 

12. Bruce McConkie loved the gospel and always sought to teach it to the best of his understanding. He loved to expand his knowledge and thought it no shame to discover that he could improve on something that he had written or preached or that he had just plain been wrong on something. Immediately after the receipt of the revelation granting the priesthood to all worthy males, he said, "Forget everything that I have said, or what President Brigham Young or President George Q. Cannon or whoever has said in days past that is contrary to the present revelation. We spoke with a limited understanding and without the light and knowledge that now has come into the world."

 Those defending questionable doctrinal positions have made much of the fact that Elder McConkie changed his mind on this, that, or the other thing, and therefore, they have frequently argued, he can hardly be quoted as competent authority on the issue at hand (if, of course, he has written or said something contrary to their own beliefs). This is a mirror reflection of the evangelical reasoning that the Bible must be inerrant and infallible, for if it were to be wrong on one thing, how could it possibly be trusted on another?  On the contrary, Elder McConkie felt that if a man could serve as a general authority for forty years without learning something new and thus having to correct his views on a thing or two, that would truly be a "sad commentary." His world was big enough for different views and stable enough that no great personal trauma attended changing his mind on something.

 

13. "Those who preach by the power of the Holy Ghost use the scriptures as their basic source of knowledge and doctrine," Elder McConkie declared. "They begin with what the Lord has before revealed to other inspired men. But it is the practice of the Lord to give added knowledge to those upon whose hearts the true meanings and intents of the scriptures have been impressed. Many great doctrinal revelations come to those who preach from the scriptures. When they are in tune with the Infinite, the Lord lets them know, first, the full and complete meaning of the scriptures they are expounding, and then he ofttimes expands their views so that new truths flood in upon them, and they learn added things that those who do not follow such a course can never know.

14. "Maybe in our efforts as a Church to ensure that everyone knows we're Christian, we have gone too far. A while back we changed our missionary discussions to make our first discussion a message about Christ. It seemed at the time a good thing to do, given that Jesus is the Head of the Church. But what was the result? A decrease in convert baptisms and a decrease in the number of copies of the Book of Mormon placed by full-time missionaries from one million per year to 500,000. We arenot teaching the Restoration as we ought to."

What Elder McConkie said next changed the way many of us who were present now teach. He stated: "We will never achieve the quantity and quality of converts that President Kimball and the Lord have envisioned as long as we continue to stress the similarities between us and those of other faiths. It is only when we stress the differences that we are able to make our distinctive contribution in the world and thus make our influence felt."

15. On another occasion, when Dad was speaking in the Saturday evening session of a stake conference, he felt a bit queasy when he stood to speak. In the course of his talk, it became evident that his stomach was about to reject his dinner. Sensing the moment was imminent, he invited the congregation to sing a hymn, while he bee-lined to the restroom. It was obvious to everyone what was happening. When he returned, he said, "I might be the only general authority in the history of the Church who gave a talk that was so bad that it even made him throw up."

16. In September 1970, after the mission presidents' seminar in Osaka, Japan, Bruce and Amelia and Brent and Elaine Hardy visited the World's Fair, which was being held in that city. The Mormon Pavilion, with the film Man's Search for Happiness, had proved itself one of the most popular exhibits. Mission president Edward Y. Okazaki and his wife, Sister Chieko N. Okazaki, were their guides. At the Mormon Pavilion, Amelia observed a beautiful little Japanese girl standing in front of the statue of Christ and trying to pose in the same way. "That created," she said, "a very touching picture."

After they saw the film at the Mormon Pavilion, the group set out to visit some of the other pavilions. They were pleased to meet a number of former Japanese missionaries who were employed as guides at various exhibits because of their fluent Japanese and English. When they came to the Christian Pavilion, Bruce said, "Come on. Let's go inside and see what the opposition has."

As they entered, they were handed a pamphlet announcing the theme of the pavilion as "Holy Emptiness." To dramatize the theme, the cathedral was empty except for a few benches and an organ in the center. An organ recital was given each day, and they had arrived just in time for it. The organist was immediately identified by the missionaries as a Mormon elder. Amelia said, "Let's get him to play some Mormon hymns." She and the two elders went over to talk to him while Bruce and the Hardys walked through the back of the cathedral.

In a few moments the elder was playing "Come, Come, Ye Saints" and "We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet." People began to assemble to listen. At the same time the pavilion director was on his way to see what was going on. Learning that some Mormons were in his building, he immediately approached Bruce and Elder Hardy. "Are you Mormons?" he asked.

Bruce responded in the affirmative.

"Well," the director began, "I had not had an opportunity to visit your pavilion until the other day when I went in to see that film you show, and I want you to know that it made me furious."

"Is that so?" Bruce said. "Why?"

The man's face and neck got redder. "I did not take occasion to look up the director of the pavilion and register my protests, but since you are Mormons, may I tell you?"

"Certainly," was the response.

He then expressed his displeasure with the film Man's Search for Happiness because it portrayed a continuation of the family unit and the conscious identity of the human soul after death. He explained that he had been in Japan for eighteen years as a Lutheran minister teaching at a Lutheran school. "All these Buddhists by instinct think that the family unit exists after death. I have spent eighteen years of my life trying to knock this idea out of their heads and then I see this film that destroys all my work, and I would like to know if this is really what Mormons believe."

Bruce said, "Sir, you are very perceptive; that is precisely what we believe."

After some discussion of this matter, the pavilion director inquired about the Apostasy. He said, "I get the idea that you Mormons think you are the only true church."

"I assured him," Dad said later, "that he was catching the vision of what was involved."

Then the pavilion director said, "I wouldn't mind so much if your missionaries spent their time preaching to Buddhists, but I can't understand why you preach to the Christians. At the school where I teach, your elders come and pass out literature to my Christian converts. I would like to know why you do this and can't operate like other churches do." In making these expressions, he was getting quite exercised, so Dad "took off the kid gloves," as he said later. He answered, "Reverend, I am delighted to answer your question. The reason that our missionaries come and teach your people is that we think it is just as important for a Lutheran to be saved as it is for a Buddhist." To this he added the story of the First Vision, after which they parted.

The missionaries remained behind for a few minutes, and the director said to them, "I really didn't want to talk to him; I just wanted to talk to you."

"My reaction to that," Dad said, "was that if I were a Lutheran minister, I wouldn't want to talk to me either."

17. As to Bruce McConkie the preacher, Elder Packer observed: "His manner of delivery was unique, something of an Old Testament scriptural quality about it. It was not granted to Brother McConkie to judge beforehand how his discourses would be received and then alter them accordingly. He could not measure what he ought to say and how he ought to say it by, 'What will people think?' Would his sermons leave any uncomfortable? Would his bold declarations irritate some in the Church? Would they inspire the critics to rush to their anvils and hammer out more 'fiery darts,' as the scriptures call them? Would his manner of delivery offend? Would his forthright declarations in content or in manner of presentation drive some learned investigators away? Would he be described as insensitive or overbearing? Would his warnings and condemnations of evil undo the careful work of others whose main intent was to have the world 'think well of the Church'? Perhaps it was given to other men to so measure their words in that way, but it was not given to him. We have talked of this and when he was tempted to change, the Spirit would withdraw a distance and there would come that deep loneliness known only to those who have enjoyed close association with the Spirit, only to find on occasion that it moves away. He could stand what the critics might say and what the enemies might do, but he could not stand that. He would be driven to his knees to beg forgiveness and plead for the renewal of that companionship of the Spirit which the scriptures promise can be constant. Then he would learn, once again, that what was true of the Holy Men of God who spake in ancient times applied to him as well. He was to speak as he was moved upon by the Holy Spirit. What matter if it sounded like Bruce R. McConkie so long as the Lord approved. I knew him well enough to know all of that."

18. In the Saturday morning session on April 6, 1985, Dad gave his final talk in a general conference of the Church. As he rose to speak, his face was drawn and thin, his skin so yellow that many must have been tempted to adjust the color on their television sets, his steps those of a man many years his senior; nevertheless, he stood tall and spoke as he always had, with confidence and power. The family prayer that he might have both the strength and emotional control to give the talk was answered. The Spirit took over as Dad had prayed it would, and one of the most powerful talks ever given in the Tabernacle was delivered.

With a trembling voice, he concluded: "I am one of his witnesses, and in a coming day I shall feel the nail marks in his hands and in his feet and shall wet his feet with my tears.

"But I shall not know any better then than I know now that he is God's Almighty Son, that he is our Savior and Redeemer, and that salvation comes in and through his atoning blood and in no other way."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prayers Are Encouraged

Commotion (noun): a state of confused and noisy disturbance; chaos, disorder, mayhem, unrest, uproar, tumult.

For those not keeping current with world events but who watch for signs of the last days, you can put a checkmark next to these two:

“The whole earth shall be in commotion” (D&C 45:26).

“The love of many shall wax cold” (Matthew 24:12).

Studies have shown there's actually a connection between those two scriptures -- that the “commotion” in the world is causing one form of love to “wax cold.” It is the feeling stemming from a moral obligation that prompts us to reach out and help when we see the suffering of others. But the greater and more widespread that suffering, the less people respond.

Every day we see reports of human suffering—victims of wars, genocide, terror attacks, torture, deadly epidemics, epic storms and earthquakes, and refugees leaving their homelands by the millions.

A 2011 study published by New York University School of Law showed that after being repeatedly exposed to scenes of mass suffering, the average person’s love and concern for the victims really does wax cold. But they don’t use those words. They use a term associated with a common reaction seen during the Holocaust: “psychic numbing.” The study showed that people are much more likely to feel indignation and act with compassion upon seeing a close-up image of just one person’s awful suffering. But when those same people see or hear reports that millions of people are suffering from that same dilemma, their feelings of concern go numb.

Writer Annie Dillard calls this “compassion fatigue.” She struggles to think straight about the great losses that the world ignores, saying: “More than two million children die a year from diarrhea and eight hundred thousand from measles. Do we blink? Stalin starved seven million Ukrainians in one year, Pol Pot killed two million Cambodians . . . At what number do other individuals blur for me?” (Dillard, “Head Spinning Numbers Cause Mind to Go Slack,” quoted in “Psychic Numbing and Mass Atrocity,” Paul Slovic, David Zionts, Andrew K. Woods, Ryan Goodman and Derek Jinks, August 2011, New York University School of Law, Public Law & Legal Theory Research Paper Series Working Paper No. 11-56).

This morning, the psychic numbness I may have shown toward the suffering of others stopped—at least temporarily—after I viewed a video showing the suffering of children in the Nuba Mountains of Sudan. They are victims of their own government’s horrible ethnic cleansing campaign. The stories and images truly haunt me. And even though they will haunt you too, I encourage you to watch the video http://nyti.ms/1fDhi2k

What goes through our minds when we see scenes like these? Do we just count our blessings and move right on, letting life and its many demands blot out those heart-wrenching images? Understandably, we’re not about to abandon everything and head a rescue mission to Sudan. But why not—at the very least—reach out and pray for the millions who suffer in so many very real ways—day after day. For many of them, this is life. For them there is no hope—no light at the end of the tunnel. Pausing to pray for them allows us to understand what Anne Morrow Lindbergh meant when she wrote, "My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds." But at the very least, we can let our hearts respond in prayers for them.

Boyd K Packer

Prior to being called as a General Authority, Boyd K. Packer was once seated on a plane next to a professed atheist. Elder Packer said the man "professed his disbelief in God so urgently that I bore my testimony to him. 'You are wrong,' I said, 'there is a God. I know He lives!'

"He protested, 'You don't know. Nobody knows that! You can't know it.' When I would not yield, the atheist, who was an attorney, asked perhaps the ultimate question on the subject of testimony. 'All right,' he said in a sneering, condescending way, 'you say you know. Tell me how you know.'"

Elder Packer tried to communicate how he knew, using words like "Spirit" and "witness." But the atheist responded, "I don't know what you're talking about." Elder Packer said that the words prayer, discernment, and faith, were equally meaningless to the man.

If you want to find out how this conversation ended, read Elder Packer's talk, "The Candle of the Lord." I mention this incident for another reason.

Boyd K. Packer passed away this afternoon. The "breaking news" headline on Deseret News calls him a "champion of families, resolute defender of LDS doctrine." While many Latter-day Saints will also remember him as a master teacher and a powerful witness of the Savior, what many do not know is that he was the most hated and villified apostle of this generation -- hated by enemies of the Church, and especially by former members. In my lifetime, no other Church leader has been the target of such mean-spirited attacks.

In this setting I will not go into detail describing the reasons for their violent disagreements with and hatred of this man. I will only say this: I have a personal witness that the principles and doctrines taught by Elder Boyd K. Packer are absolutely true. And I know this in the same way he knew it. Others can say, like the atheist on that plane, "There's no way you can know those things!" But that is only because those critics are unwilling to pay the same price Elder Packer and I, and untold numbers of Latter-day Saints, have paid to know these things are true.

In mathematics and science, if you follow the right formulas you get the correct answers. You cannot, thinking you know better, create your own preferred formulas and still expect correct results. But isn't that what people do who take issue with the doctrines Elder Packer taught? Instead of demonstrating humility and a willingness to ask God, (1) "Are these doctrines true?" and (2) "If they are, what should I do about it?" their spiritual hearts are hardened by pride. They trust in their own intellectual abilities. Instead of prayer, they rely on their own feelings, changing societal trends, and the winds of public opinion. As a result, they end up joining the ever-growing ranks of those who think they're smarter than God.

I don't argue with their right to choose, but I would have them know this: Just because they don't believe the doctrines God has revealed through His prophets and apostles doesn't automatically mean they're untrue. I testify that God is alive and well, and Boyd K. Packer was one of His noble prophets. His teachings and testimony of the Savior's doctrines changed my life. I will never be the same. Not because I put it to a vote among my intellectual friends or asked what the Supreme Court has to say, but because the Spirit of the Lord has revealed the truthfulness of these doctrines to my mind.

I know these things are true. I cannot deny it. And I know that those who are willing to pay that same price will receive that same witness. If they "customize" the formula for seeking truth by asking anyone but God, they will not.

Which Would You Prefer? Blind Guides or Prophets Chosen by God?

A few years ago, Elder Robert Gay of the Seventy spoke at our stake conference and told about an invitation he received to accompany a BYU professor on a visit to the Vatican. While there they were allowed access to a room not open to the general public. It contains “special collections” of ancient documents. The highlight for him and his companion was when they were shown the oldest known copy of the New Testament. While looking at its pages, they asked their host, “What are all these handwritten markings?” The reply was very revealing: “Oh, that's where the scribes made their changes.”

Later they had lunch with the third-highest-ranking cardinal who asked them to tell him about our Church. Elder Gay said, “Can you imagine telling a Catholic cardinal about Joseph Smith’s First Vision and that the Church is led by prophets who receive revelations from God?” Well, that is what they did. And when they said, “We suppose your pope also receives guidance from God?” his response was surprising: “Oh, no! Not this pope! We are guided by tradition. That is what we follow.”

I thought of that incident today as I read an article in the New York Times that describes a recent meeting of American Catholic bishops and how they are struggling to understand the motives and intentions of their new pope. As I read the article it became crystal clear that their struggles are rooted in the fact that theirs is a church without any divine authority or revelation, where decisions are made by the most powerful factions, where tradition and power count more than asking, "What is the Lord's will in this matter?" The new pope, while apparently well-intentioned, is ruffling time-honored tradition as he seeks to bring about change, so the struggles of the American bishops are not surprising. What other reaction would you expect in an organization without a divine mandate, where policies and practices are the result of closed door elections, not revelation, and where powerful and persuasive men with no divine authority make “my will” decisions rather than seeking to know and humbly follow God’s will.

In the article I found these two quotes to be of particular interest:

1. “Among those applauding in the conference room was the man who will soon be installed in the powerful Chicago seat, Bishop Blase J. Cupich. Pope Francis has never met him, but plucked him from the obscure diocese of Spokane, Wash., passing over archbishops considered rising stars under the two previous popes. . . . [Bishop Cupich] said he had no idea how he was selected, saying, ‘Maybe someday over a nice glass of Chianti I’ll ask him.’” Imagine David A. Bednar saying THAT when asked why he was called to be an Apostle! In the Savior’s true Church everyone who has a calling knows the source of that call: “We believe that a man must be called of God, by prophecy, and by the laying on of hands by those who are in authority” (Article of Faith 5).

2. “He says wonderful things,” Cardinal Francis George said about [Pope] Francis in an interview on Sunday, “but he doesn’t put them together all the time, so you’re left at times puzzling over what his intention is. What he says is clear enough, but what does he want us to do?” Cardinal George, who is 77 and being treated for cancer, remains a voting cardinal until age 80 and says he would like to travel to Rome to see Francis: “I’d like to sit down with him and say, ‘Holy Father, first of all, thank you for letting me retire. And could I ask you a few questions about your intentions?’” Can you imagine the following scenario: The First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve have just concluded their regular Thursday morning meeting in an upper room of the Salt Lake Temple. The Twelve walk away scratching their heads and whispering to one another, “Nice meeting, but what does the Prophet want us to do?”

What a blessing to be a member of not just a church, but THE true Church of Jesus Christ, re-established by Him personally and not the product of tradition, power grabs, or closed door meetings.

Leaving Neutral Ground . . . Forever

On occasion, as I research gospel topics, I come across websites set up by ex-Mormons as platforms to denigrate doctrines and practices held sacred by Latter-day Saints and to attack Church leaders they themselves once sustained as the Lord’s prophets.

At first we may wonder why these people feel so driven to go public with their incivility and anger. Why don’t they don’t just put it all behind them, go forward with their lives, and leave the Church alone?

I believe the answer is found in a conversation that took place between the Prophet Joseph Smith and Daniel Tyler and Isaac Behunin, as recorded in Daniel Tyler’s journal. The Prophet had just returned to Commerce, Illinois (before its name was changed to Nauvoo), after being persecuted and imprisoned in Missouri. Speaking about the suffering he’d endured, Joseph said that the cruelest treatment of all came at the hands of former members of the Church, now apostates, and not from non-members.

Daniel Tyler wrote:

“When the prophet had ended telling how he had been treated, Brother Behunin remarked, ‘If I should ever leave this Church I would not do as those men have done; I would go to some remote place where Mormonism had never been heard of, settle down, and no one would ever learn that I knew anything about it.’

“The great Seer immediately replied: ‘Brother Behunin, you don’t know what you would do . . . Before you joined this Church you stood on neutral ground. When the gospel was preached, good and evil were set before you. You could choose either or neither. There were two opposite masters inviting you to serve them. When you joined this Church you enlisted to serve God. When you did that you left neutral ground, and you can never get back on to it. Should you forsake the Master you enlisted to serve, it will be by the instigation of the evil one, and you will follow his dictation and be his servant . . . When men [do this] they leave neutral ground forever’”
(Teachings of the Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith, 315-16).

These teachings are confirmed in Alma 24 where we read about a battle between Nephites and Lamanites. Among the Nephites was a group of former Lamanites who now called themselves the people of Anti-Nephi-Lehi. Having been converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ, they'd joined with the Nephites and had not only laid down all weapons of war and buried them in the earth, they made a vow to never use them again.

So as the battle commenced and the Lamanites came upon the Nephites, these people of Anti-Nephi-Lehi lay down before the invading Lamanites, refusing to fight and, instead, putting their trust in God. The Lamanites, seeing such an easy prey, began to slaughter them.

The record goes on to describe a change of heart among the Lamanites, for “when the Lamanites saw this they did forbear from slaying them . . . for they repented of the things which they had done . . . and it came to pass that they threw down their weapons of war . . . [and] there were more than a thousand brought to the knowledge of the truth.”

Unfortunately, the slaughter didn't completely come to an end. Why? Who continued doing the killing? Just as apostates had inlicted the worst suffering upon Joseph Smith, it was a group of apostate Nephites — Amalekites and Amulonites who had formerly embraced the gospel but then rebelled and joined the Lamanites. These apostates were now slaughtering the believers.

The final verse of chapter 24 confirms the truth of what Joseph Smith said to Isaac Behunin: “And thus we can plainly discern that after a people have been once enlightened by the Spirit of God and have had great knowledge of things pertaining to righteousness, and then have fallen away into sin and transgression, they become more hardened, and thus their state becomes worse than though they had never known these things.”

That verse, and Joseph's words to Isaac Behunin, explain why the apostates in our day cannot leave the Church alone: "Should you forsake the Master you enlisted to serve, it will be by the instigation of the evil one, and you will follow his dictation and be his servant . . . When men [do this] they leave neutral ground forever.”

Response to "End of the Mormon Moment"

In today’s New York Times is an op-ed piece by Cadence Woodland, an LDS writer and an admitted Church dissenter whose LDS faith “has crumbled,” and who, in December, “stopped attending [LDS Church] services” with “no plans to return.”

Her piece is titled, “The End of the ‘Mormon Moment.” The “moment” to which she refers is the recent wave of positive public interest in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—spawned, at least in part, by public relations campaigns like “I’m a Mormon,” the public’s awareness of the rising number of Mormons in politics, the candidacy of Mitt Romney, and even “the prevalence of Mormon ‘mommy bloggers’ and negative publicity created by the Broadway musical, “The Book of Mormon.”

These and many other public events and issues have cast an unprecedented and worldwide spotlight on the Church, its doctrines, and the Latter-day Saint lifestyle. But instead of taking advantage of this great publicity, Woodland asserts that the Brethren have blown their golden opportunity to help the Church “stay relevant in the 21st century.” Her definition of “relevant” means that Church leaders should have acted on the demands of Kate Kelly, recently excommunicated for her public demands that the Church change its stance on ordaining women to the priesthood, Woodland says that because the Brethren did not cave to the demands of Kelly and her adherents, the Church “killed its own moment.”

Sounds like the Church faces a pretty dark future—but consider two things:

1. The Church is not just another man-made and man-run organization. The Brethren are not in charge—the Lord is, and in a very “hands-on” way. He directs its affairs. Church policy is determined by the Lord Himself. This means, because the Church operates on the unchanging principle of revelation, that anytime we refer to a decision or position taken by “the Church,” we really mean a decision or position taken by the Lord Himself through His authorized servants.

That definition and clarification helps us understand that what Woodland is really saying (because of her “smarter than God” attitude) is it’s the Lord who has blown a perfectly golden opportunity to make His Church “relevant in the 21st century”—and all because He won’t cave to Kate Kelly’s demands.

The Lord and His servants do not stick their fingers up to see which way the winds of public opinion are blowing before announcing Church policies or doctrines. Popularity wasn’t Christ’s aim when He walked among men, nor is it His aim now. His ways are not our ways. He has greater purposes in mind.

And …..
2. I am reminded of the following statement made by President Gordon B. Hinckley during his annual address to Church educators on September 14, 1984:

I noted from last Sunday’s papers that a new book is off the press, put together as a “history” of this work by two men who have spent much time gathering data. I have not read the book, but the conclusion, reported one reviewer, is that the future of the Church is dim.

Without wishing to seem impertinent, I should like to know what they know about that future. They know nothing of the prophetic mission of this Church.

Nor do writers of op-ed pieces who believe the Lord and His Church have missed a pivotal “moment” in history by not caving in to demands for tolerance and inclusion.


Link to the article: http://www.nytimes.com/2014/07/15/opinion/the-end-of-the-mormon-moment.html?emc=edit_th_20140715&nl=todaysheadlines&nlid=60893940&_r=1


sk

The Unicorn in the Garden

The Unicorn in the Garden

by James Thurber
reprinted from
Fables For Our Time
Once upon a sunny morning a man who sat in a breakfast nook looked up from his scrambled eggs to see a white unicorn with a golden horn quietly cropping the roses in the garden. The man went up to the bedroom where his wife was still asleep and woke her.  

"There's a unicorn in the garden," he said. "Eating roses."

She opened one unfriendly eye and looked at him. "The unicorn is a mythical beast," she said, and turned her back on him.  

The man walked slowly downstairs and out into the garden. The unicorn was still there; now he was browsing among the tulips. "Here, unicorn," said the man, and he pulled up a lily and gave it to him. The unicorn ate it gravely. With a high heart, because there was a unicorn in his garden, the man went upstairs and roused his wife again.  

"The unicorn," he said,"ate a lily."  

His wife sat up in bed and looked at him coldly. "You are a booby," she said, "and I am going to have you put in the booby-hatch."  

The man, who had never liked the words "booby" and "booby-hatch," and who liked them even less on a shining morning when there was a unicorn in the garden, thought for a moment. "We'll see about that," he said.  

He walked over to the door. "He has a golden horn in the middle of his forehead," he told her.

Then he went back to the garden to watch the unicorn; but the unicorn had gone away. The man sat down among the roses and went to sleep.  As soon as the husband had gone out of the house, the wife got up and dressed as fast as she could. She was very excited and there was a gloat in her eye. She telephoned the police and she telephoned a psychiatrist; she told them to hurry to her house and bring a strait-jacket.

When the police and the psychiatrist arrived they sat down in chairs and looked at her, with great interest.  

"My husband," she said, "saw a unicorn this morning."  The police looked at the psychiatrist and the psychiatrist looked at the police.  

"He told me it ate a lilly," she said.  The psychiatrist looked at the police and the police looked at the psychiatrist.  

"He told me it had a golden horn in the middle of its forehead," she said.  

At a solemn signal from the psychiatrist, the police leaped from their chairs and seized the wife. They had a hard time subduing her, for she put up a terrific struggle, but they finally subdued her.

Just as they got her into the strait-jacket, the husband came back into the house.  "Did you tell your wife you saw a unicorn?" asked the police.  

"Of course not," said the husband. "The unicorn is a mythical beast."  

"That's all I wanted to know," said the psychiatrist. "Take her away. I'm sorry, sir, but your wife is as crazy as a jaybird."  

So they took her away, cursing and screaming, and shut her up in an institution. The husband lived happily ever after.  

Moral: Don't count your boobies until they are hatched.

GLOSSARY:


• booby: in this context, a crazy person (probably from the name of a stupid extinct bird).
• booby-hatch: a mental institution, a place where the insane are kept.

Insights From 2 Nephi

This week I've been studying the first few chapters of 2 Nephi. This is where we are given a front-row seat as Lehi, about to die, gathers his children and gives them a final blessing.

Here I discovered two treasured insights.

Nephi wrote this, and he gives us a detailed account of the blessings given to his five brothers. He also recorded the blessings Lehi gave to his grandchildren -- the children of Laman and Lemuel; and then the blessings to the sons of Ishmael and their families as well as Zoram, the former servant of Laban.

But where's Nephi's blessing? You can search high and low, but you won't find it. Didn't he receive one? There's no mention of it. Some may say, "Maybe Lehi didn't give him one. Maybe the group was so large that Nephi simply got overlooked."

Impossible. Nephi was the one who was most deserving of all. The key to the answer is in remembering that he was the one who wrote this. I am convinced that by not including any reference to his own blessing Nephi confirmed what I've always regarded as one of his most admirable traits: humility. Truly humble people do not seek attention! While others may love attention and have no problem chattering endlessly about themselves, humble people shun the spotlight. They're uncomfortable when placed on center-stage. In this case, I think Nephi purposely avoided saying anything about his blessing in order to avoid the accusation that he was boasting. After all, he probably received the most positive and hopeful blessing of all. For me, he serves as the model for this wise saying: "Let another man praise thee and not thine own mouth" (Proverbs 27:2).

I found the second insight in the first verse of chapter 3. This is where Lehi blesses his youngest son, Joseph, and he chooses some interesting words as he begins: "Thou wast born in the wilderness of mine afflictions," obviously referring to the family's difficult journey after leaving their comfortable home in Jerusalem.

As I pondered Lehi's words, I realized that we all have times in our lives when we could properly say we're going through a "wilderness of afflictions." Some are brief. Others last a day or two. But then there are those afflictions that make us wonder if they'll ever end.

And as we navigate through these personalized "wildernesses of affliction," we are often tempted to murmur and shake our fists at the heavens. And then, if we're not careful, we may even turn away from God altogether and let cynicism and anger and selfishness cloud our vision. What vision? Why, the vision of the bigger picture; the vision of why we're here on earth. Not much has been revealed about the details of our existence before we born, but it makes sense to me that we spent a lot of time in class, receiving instruction about the earth life that was to come.

Job taught that when the earth was created, "the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy" because of the prospects offered by coming to earth (Job 38:7). But as Elder Neal A. Maxwell wisely added, "I grant you there may be days here that we may wonder what all the shouting was about" ("If Thou Endure It Well," BYU fireside, Dec. 4, 1984).

As we go though our own "wilderness of affliction" let's remember how Lehi got through his: (1) he learned not to murmur; (2) he was true to his covenants, even though he didn't always receive immediate relief or answers to prayer; and (3) he learned to trust in God -- always -- regardless of present circumstances.

Elder Maxwell concluded the talk I referred to earlier with these words: "Tonight, as we sang that marvelous hymn together [I Know That My Redeemer Lives], I know that my Redeemer lives. Those words, every time we sing them, ought to have special meaning. Reassuring words like 'grant me rich supply . . . hear my soul's complaint . . . comfort me when faint . . . silence all my fears . . . calm my troubled heart . . . [and] I shall conquer death.' Those lyrics . . . permit us to know, even as our souls are being stretched, why they're being stretched . . . But we must, once again, endure well. Not fitfully, not slothfully, not resentfully, but in that serenity and spiritual submissiveness which you and I have seen in people who have passed through the most difficult extremities; who do so because they know that their Redeemer lives . . . and that He will comfort them when faint."

I add my deep conviction that He will, and He does.

The Glad Tidings

In 66 years I have memories of only two ward Christmas parties. Actually, I wish I could forget the first one, but terribly embarassing incidents stick with you whether you like it or not. It happened in Sacramento in the mid-1950's. I was seven or eight years old and played an elf in skit about Santa's workshop. They made me wear a skimpy little costume but didn't tell me where I could change into it. So I chose an empty classroom that had one of those folding dividers used to make two classrooms out of one.

After the performance -- in which I'd put my mouth much too close to the microphone and almost blew out the speakers with my only speaking part ("Isn't it beautiful?" -- referring to Santa's Christmas tree), I retreated back to the classroom to change clothes. As if on cue, after removing my costume but before putting my pants on, someone opened the divider. It seemed like the entire ward was peering in at me -- as I crouched behind a chair -- in my underwear. My face was redder than Rudolph's nose.

In my old age, even though I may eventually forget my own name, mental images of that embarrassing incident will live forever.

The second memory is one I hope never to forget because of the insights it generated. At a ward Christmas dinner a few years ago I was seated across from a young couple I didn't know. So I introduced myself, and, typical of introductory conversations, we soon reached that inevitable pause where people ask one another, "So, what do you do?"

However the conversation developed after that is of no matter. What makes this incident especially memorable is that a few days later as I contemplated the meaning of Christmas, I thought about how Christ would answer that question, "So, what do you do?" And I seemed to hear Him say:

"What do I do? I offer hope to the hopeless. I lift up the hands that hang down and strengthen the feeble knees (Doctrine & Covenants 81:5). I was wounded for [your] transgressions . . . bruised for [your] iniquities" (Isaiah 53:5).

"What do I do? I have suffered temptations, and pain of body, hunger, thirst, fatigue, even more than man can suffer, except it be unto death; for nehold, blood cometh from every pore" (Mosiah 3:7).

"What do I do? "Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands" (Isaiah 49:16).

"What do I do? I fix broken things, and I specialize in mercy."

A few months later, I attended a stake conference where Elder Jeffrey R. Holland gave further details about what Jesus and His Father do:

"They spend all day and night, working without sleep or slumber, looking for ways to bless us . . . If you feel that life is dark and that the sun doesn't ever seem to come up . . . don't give up! . . . God loves broken things . . . While you're plummeting downward and feel like you're at the end of your rope, the road you say you cannot walk--YOU WALK; and the load you say you cannot carry--YOU CARRY. It is a refining process that will help you discover the gold in your life. A new world of divinity unfolds, and we get a glimpse of the gods and goddesses we were meant to be. That day WILL come. Trust me, it will come."

As I was leaving that meeting I passed an older woman who has always been an example to me of a true and faithful Christian. Shaking my hand, and with tears in her eyes, she said, "I'm one of those broken ones."

If ever you feel that way -- that you're "one of those broken ones" -- take time to ponder the meaning of the words "glad tidings." The angel who announced Jesus' birth to the shepherds used those words NOT because every December thereafter they'd be getting Christmas gifts and vacation time. The "glad tidings" are all about Jesus Christ -- and His response to the question: "So, what do you do?"

The Hosts of Heaven

According to the familiar account in Luke, Chapter 2, on the night when Jesus was born, a lone angel appeared to shepherds in the darkness and announced the birth of “a Savior, which is Christ the Lord” in nearby Bethlehem.

Can you imagine being one of those shepherds and the awe they must have felt at seeing an angel from heaven? But that was only the beginning. Immediately after hearing the angel tell them the babe could be found “wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger,” a much greater event occurred. For “suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God.” That lone angelic messenger was joined by a multitude of other angels, and they all literally sang praises to God because of the Savior’s birth.

Have you ever wondered, Who were those angels? Were they the musically gifted members of a special choir who had auditioned for this event while the rest of God’s spirit children who didn’t sing quite as well -- or who couldn’t carry a tune at all -- stayed home to watch it all on a heavenly widescreen?

We find the answer as we explore the meaning of the words “heavenly host” or “hosts.” Moses used the word “host” as he described the completion of the Creation: “Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them” (Genesis 2:1; Moses 3:1). A clear definition of just who these “hosts” are is found in a revelation about the war in heaven, where the Lord said this to the Prophet Joseph Smith: “The devil . . . rebelled against me, saying, ‘Give me thine honor,’ which is my power; and also a third part of the hosts of heaven turned he away from me . . .and they were thrust down, and thus came the devil and his angels” (Doctrine & Covenants 29:36).

Here we see that, originally, the term “hosts of heaven” referred to all of God’s spirit children. But after Satan and his followers rebelled against God’s plan, they were cast out of His presence. Thus, Satan and his followers became the “hosts of hell” (see Doctrine & Covenants 88:113). The “hosts of heaven” are the two-thirds of God’s spirit children who did not rebel. And that included you and me.

So back to my original question: Who were those heavenly singers the night the Savior was born? Luke says they were the "host of heaven" – the entire host, the remaining spirits who did not rebel -- not just a portion of them, not just the ones who could carry a tune, but all of them – including you and me. We were there! Our voices were part of that heavenly choir!

Given this perspective, it is all the more puzzling to me when I observe members, and often entire families, sitting silent in our meetings during the singing of hymns, particularly the sacrament hymns. Usually it’s because they don’t consider themselves musically “gifted.”

And I find myself wanting to lean over and whisper, “How can you remain silent? Don’t you remember? You were once part of that choir of heavenly hosts. Granted, you may not feel musically gifted, but that didn’t stop you then. Please don’t let it stop you now.”

Let us remember our part in that great choir – and remind our children that they were in it as well. Singing is not just for the musically gifted. Nor is it just something added to the program to give us a break from the speakers. It is our gift to Him, albeit humble -- a sacred offering.

And to those who sing there is a promise from the Lord Himself: “The song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing on their heads” (Doctrine & Covenants 25:12).

Tribute to a Great Man: Bill Porter

An obituary in today's New York Times has stirred up guilty childhood memories and not a few tears.

As you'll learn from reading that obituary, Bill Porter was a salesman in my hometown of Portland, Oregon. He sold Watkins products door-to-door. Bill was much younger then, probably around 30. He came to our house about once a month. I was in my early teens, and I confess that I didn't like being the one who had to open the door when Bill came. I didn't know his name then. All I knew was that his slurred speech and jerky way of walking scared me.

How he managed to walk up the eight or ten steps to our front porch without falling was a mystery to me. When I opened the door he would hold up a sample of one of his products and speak in an almost unintelligible manner: "D o o o Y e e w w w W a a a n n t t T o o o B u u u y y y O o o n n n e O o o f f f T t t h h e e e e s s s ?" I'd always tell him we weren't interested, hoping he wouldn't come back -- but he always did.

Several years ago, this article about Bill appeared in the Portland newspaper, The Oregonian. Then ABC's 20/20 did a segment about him. I encourage you to watch it here. Then a movie was made about him, starring Bill Macy. I later learned that Bill's assistant, Shelly Brady, had attended the same church as our family when I was growing up.

I have tender feelings towards this extraordinary man after reading those articles and watching that 20/20 segment. I marvel at how incredibly resilient he was, and I regret very much the negative feelings I had about him when I was an uncaring teen.

From Bill Porter I've learned that we need to look past peoples' outward infirmities and see the real person within. You may not have been able to button your own shirt cuffs, Bill Porter, but you're a better man than I am.

For Latter-day Saints, the "Dancing" Is the Easy Part

Cecil Jenkins was one of my favorite high school teachers--easily distinguished from the rest of the faculty by his trademark crew cut, sport coat, and ever-present bow tie. Sure, other instructors could have taught the same principles of geometry that he did, but nobody could match his subtle humor, boyish grin, and those piercing blue eyes. Unlike most other classes, I looked forward to this one because he created such an enjoyable learning environment. On Friday, November 22, 1963, I was sitting in Mr. Jenkins' classroom when events in Dallas, Texas, rocked everyone's world. It was shortly after 10:30am, and the class routine was suddenly interrupted by Mr. Copper, Senior Math instructor from across the hall. He stepped into the room and said to Mr. Jenkins, "El Presidente (meaning John F. Kennedy) has been shot." Strange how our minds work when tragic or historic events occur. Not only do we recall precisely where we were at the time, but we retain a crystal clear recollection of the sights and sounds. That tragic event isn't the only memory I've retained from Mr. Jenkins' class. Surprisingly, I actually remember some basic geometry, such as: -- Parallel lines are like railroad tracks, always equidistant and never touching. -- Perpendicular lines are like those in a "+" sign, intersecting at a perfect 90-degree angle. -- And then there are the congruent lines. These are unique because, while there may be two or more of them, they have the same length, so when one is placed on top of the other, they are a perfect match. The word "congruent" doesn't just apply to geometry. It can also apply to human behavior. The dictionary says that a person has congruency when his behavior mirrors his beliefs. Many public figures have seen their careers flame out prematurely when their private behaviors were found to be shockingly incongruent with what they always claimed to be. This is why the media make such a big deal when a Latter-day Saint commits a crime; the criminal act is incongruent with the person's professed beliefs. The challenge of living a congruent life is faced by everyone, not just Latter-day Saints. Because worldly influences are so appealing--and even appetizing--we are constantly pressured to behave in ways that are in direct conflict with our moral principles. I once saw evidence of this in a Texas airport. Love Field in Dallas is the home base for Southwest Airlines. Many years ago, every Southwest gate in the airport offered free donuts, muffins, juice and coffee to all early-morning fliers. The gate area where I waited for my flight was almost empty, so it seemed strange when a woman chose to make a rather personal phone call while standing within six feet of me. As a result, I overheard every word as she called her doctor's office and confirmed the date and time of an upcoming surgery. Once the call was completed, she walked over to the free refreshments and helped herself to a large glazed donut. Now you may not see any incongruency in this, but I did. You see, I'd overheard the conversation in which she'd mentioned the specific nature of her upcoming surgery: a "stomach stapling" procedure, designed to help curb the appetite of people fighting obesity. The Lord gives members of His Church a remarkable gift to assist us when we’re tempted to make choices that are incongruent with our gospel commitments. When we're in tune with this gift of the Holy Ghost, we receive reminders—spiritual nudges—helping us remember the behaviors expected of those who've made sacred covenants with the Lord. But these nudges from the Holy Ghost don't come automatically. Church membership alone is no guarantee of personal revelation. Don't take my word for it. It was President Joseph Fielding Smith who said that while he couldn't prove it, it was his belief that most Latter-day Saints had never had a personal manifestation of the Holy Ghost. Never? Never? How could this be? I think the following story may help us understand why he held this belief. One day an old man came into the waiting room of a health clinic on an Indian reservation. Instead of signing in at the front desk like the others in the room had done, he just stood at the back. Noting that this man did not look at all well, the admitting nurse left the desk and approached him. She said he needed to register in order to be seen by a doctor. He made no reply, nor did he move toward the desk. Once more she suggested he follow the regular sign-in process, and once more he remained silent, not moving. The nurse then went into the back offices, found one of the doctors, and told him about the old man. Soon the doctor came out and invited the man to accompany him to an exam room. This time the man responded, following along behind the doctor but still saying nothing. Taking a seat across from the old man, the doctor said, "I can tell by your clothing that you are a medicine man, so I would like to ask you a question: Can you teach me to dance?" There was silence as the old man considered the doctor's request. And then he said, in a low voice: "I can teach you to dance . . . but I cannot teach you to hear the music." Now, if you go back and read President's Smith's statement again, this story may help you understand it. You see, for Latter-day Saints, there is "dancing" and then there's "hearing the music." The "dancing" part is when we attend our Church meetings and activities. In Mormon-speak this is commonly referred to as "being active." But, according to President Smith, far fewer members have learned to "hear the music"--to recognize and feel the promptings of the Holy Ghost, the whisperings of His still small voice, what Joseph Smith called "sudden flashes of inspiration." And just as the old medicine man said, the ability to “hear the music” of these spiritual promptings cannot be taught. It only comes when our thoughts, words, and actions are congruent with our covenants, congruent with the temple recommend standards, and congruent with the Savior's expectations. We can routinely "dance" day after day, week after week. But only when our lives are congruent with gospel principles will we qualify to "hear the music." slk 12/4/13

We Cannot Say "I'll Choose the Right, But On My Own Terms"

One of my mother's distant relatives passed away last month. Here's an excerpt from her obituary:

"Sealed in the Salt Lake Temple in 1947 . . . she was a devoted member of the LDS Church, but on her own terms. She preferred reading a good book to attending Relief Society. She loved to sing with the ward choir and lead the singing in Primary, but she also enjoyed a good cup of coffee and a menthol cigarette. She faithfully wrote her missionary sons and grandchildren and even allowed them to attend BYU. During family weddings, as she waited outside the Temple, she was never bitter. She knew the rules. A hypocrite she was not."

It sounds like, if given a choice, she would opt for an "STG" ring (Smarter Than God) rather than one that says "CTR" (Choose the Right).

As I read the obituary I thought of this line from D&C 88:32 which describes the final reward of those who live by their own rules instead of humbly submitting to God's will: "They shall return again to their own [preferred] place, to enjoy that which they are willing to receive, because they were not willing to enjoy that which they might have received."

There is a price to be paid for taking the Burger King approach to life ("Have it your way"). And the reality is that He will not force us to choose His preferred way. If "my will be done" is our motto, He will not stand in our way. But sooner or later those who make this choice will come face-to-face with what might have been. And that is when the weeping begins.

I pray we will all learn that His way is always better than our own. Being humble and submissive to Him is a sign of obedience and trust, not a sign of weakness.

My Birthday Wish

Today marks my 66th lap around the track. At this age it takes me by surprise when someone asks, "What would you like for your birthday?" because I am at an age when that thought never enters my mind. I'm probably regarded as a curmudgeon at the office because there's a tradition of having a special lunch on birthdays. I decline. While some love the attention and being in the spotlight, I prefer a hot dog at Costco. 

In my quiet time this morning, I came to the realization that there IS one thing I would really desire for my birthday -- and every day -- not just for myself but for my children and grandchildren. It is that we "stay on the train." That phrase was used in an Oct. 1992 conference talk titled "Spiritual Revival," by Elder Glenn L. Pace, in which he gave this wise counsel -- and it is the message I send to my posterity: 

"Many of us take the blessings of the gospel for granted. It is as if we are passengers on the train of the Church, which has been moving forward gradually and methodically. Sometimes we have looked out the window and thought, 'That looks kind of fun out there. This train is so restrictive.' So we have jumped off and gone and played in the woods for a while. Sooner or later, we find it isn’t as much fun as Satan makes it appear or we get critically injured, so we work our way back to the tracks and see the train ahead. With a determined sprint we catch up to it, breathlessly wipe the perspiration from our forehead, and thank the Lord for repentance. 

"While on the train, we can see the world and some of our own members outside laughing and having a great time. They taunt us and coax us to get off. Some throw logs and rocks on the tracks to try and derail it. Other members run alongside the tracks, and while they may never go play in the woods, they just can’t seem to get on the train. Others try to run ahead and too often take the wrong turn. I would propose that the luxury of getting on and off the train as we please is fading. The speed of the train is increasing. The woods are getting much too dangerous, and the fog and darkness are moving in." 

We live in a world of counterfeit values -- and the thing on which this world places the greatest value is "self." We've become expert at believing the old U.S. Army slogan: "Be all you can be." Society heartily endorses the words of the Whitney Houston hit song, telling us that "the greatest love of all" is to love ourselves first. But no matter who sings it or how attractively it's packaged, that message is false doctrine. 

The Lord tells us what the "greatest love" really is. It's to love God first and to put Him first above all other things -- including ourselves. It's not a question of whether certain outside interests are bad. The "badness" enters the picture -- and becomes a false god -- when material things, amusements, hobbies, and other interests replace God as our primary love. 

Loving God is not just a feeling or a statement. It isn't just kindly deeds towards others. Love for God is manifest in how we regard the sacred covenants we've made with Him, It is reflected in our Church activity, and whether or not the scriptures and prayer are part of our daily lives. If we are serious about our covenants then we will be humble and submissive, seeking to know God's will for us and submitting to it, even when it's inconvenient or uncomfortable. And that's where the true test lies. 

So on this birthday, the greatest desire of my heart is for my posterity to pause and remember that each of us came to this earth with a mission. Before we were born, we made certain promises to our Father regarding the way we would live when we got here. Surely, Heaven watches with disappointment when we ignore our pre-mortal commitments and do things our way instead of His way. "After all," we rationalize, "where's the harm in jumping off the train for awhile? It isn't moving all that fast, and with a little effort I can get back on whenever I want."

Please -- stay on the train. If you've jumped off, get back on. Even if it means becoming more humble and submissive to the Lord's will, do it. These things matter most -- not only to me, but to God. May we honor Him and our sacred covenants and be what He sent us here to become.

Refinement: Seeking the Best Version of Yourself

 

Today’s Sunday School lesson was based on the Lord’s injunction that we “seek learning by study, and also by faith” (Doctrine & Covenants 88:118). He desires that we gain knowledge about “all things that pertain unto the kingdom of God . . . of things both in heaven and in the earth, and under the earth; things which have been, things which are, things which must shortly come to pass; things which are at home, things which are abroad; the wars and the perplexities of the nations, and the judgments which are on the land; and a knowledge also of countries and kingdoms (Doctrine & Covenants 88:78-79).

Clearly He desires that our study be broader than just the gospel. President John Taylor taught that “we ought to foster education and intelligence of every kind; cultivate literary tastes, and men of literary and scientific talent should improve their talent; and all should magnify the gifts which God has given them . . . If there is anything good and praiseworthy in morals, religion, science, or anything calculated to exalt and ennoble man, we are after it” (The Gospel Kingdom, sel. G. Homer Durham [1943] 277).

As I taught the lesson, I sought to emphasize the need to seek out literature and media that ennoble, sharing the following comment from one of my spiritual mentors, Elder Douglas L. Callister: “I don’t know whether our heavenly home has a television set or a DVD machine, but in my mind’s imagery it surely has a grand piano and a magnificent library. There was a fine library in the home of President Hinckley’s youth. It was not an ostentatious home, but the library contained about 1,000 volumes of the rich literature of the world . . . President David O. McKay was inclined to awaken at 4:00am, skim read up to two books each day, and then commence his labors at 6:00am. He could quote 1,000 poems from memory. We knew that whenever he stood at the pulpit. He referred to the grand masters of literature as the ‘minor prophets.’ . . .

On the subject of music, Elder Callister taught: “If we could peek behind the heavenly veil we would likely be inspired by the music of heaven, perhaps more glorious than any music we have heard on this earth. When some music has passed the tests of time and been cherished by the noble and refined, our failure to appreciate it is not an indictment of grand music. The omission is within [ourselves]. If a young person grows up on a steady diet of hamburgers and French fries, he is not likely to be a gourmet. But the fault is not with fine food. He just grew up on something less. Some have grown up on a steady diet of musical French fries . . . A few years ago I made my way to the bedroom of one of my sons to say good night. He was a junior in high school. As I approached his room I heard strains of Tchaikovsky’s sixth symphony. I was surprised. I knew the boy loved sports, but I didn’t know he loved Tchaikovsky. Months later, as my wife and I were listening to a videotape of three tenors singing, our son came in and sat down. He listened and saw, and a new appreciation developed. He said: ‘You never told me about opera.’ He took the videotape to his room, and I never saw it again. Appreciation of the finest in music does not depend on your age” (“Your Refined Heavenly Home,” BYU devotional, 19 Sept. 2006).

Elder Callister has also spoken about the effect, which is noticeable to others, of one’s devoted study of the scriptures and other great literature: “A few years ago I overheard a Church leader lament the fact that he never had time for anything except to read the scriptures and other works of literature and to prepare talks. His wife admiringly responded: ‘I know, dear. We all know. We know every time you stand up to speak.’“

That man was like a mission president Elder Callister once observed during a Mission President’s Seminar. “The presiding General Authority asked the wife of each mission president to say something unusual or different about her husband that we would not otherwise have known. One of the other wives said her husband is the only man she knows who reads the [entire] Book of Mormon once every five weeks.  When he was asked to respond, he acknowledged this was true, confirming he had read the book thus far twenty-two times while presiding over his mission. I watched him through the balance of the seminar. Spirituality emanated from every pore . . . When a man has spent a lifetime studying the word of God, no one has to tell us. We know every time he opens his mouth . . . If we know the books located at the bedside, we know much about the man . . . (‘The Divine Ring,” LDS Business College Devotional, 12 Oct. 2010).

I believe the Lord desires that we pursue literature, music, and arts which ennoble, that we read, listen to, and watch that which lifts our spirits above the vulgar and commonplace. We even declare this standard in the 13^th Article of Faith. But this “taste” does not come naturally. For most of us it’s an acquired taste, but once acquired, like my newfound love of classical music, it can become second nature to us.  

Following today’s lesson we went to priesthood meeting and listened to our instructor share how uplifting it was to spend part of his Saturday watching the fourth season of The Andy Griffith Show on Netflix. I guess you have to start somewhere. =)

Is Your Ladder Against the Right Wall?

To my children;


Shari Dew was about to board a flight from New York to Salt Lake when she noticed some excitement among passengers in the gate area. Turns out there were some LDS missionaries waiting for that same flight, and they were all returning from missions in eastern Europe.

When she asked one of them-- a farm boy from Utah -- about his mission to Bulgaria, he said, "It was great!" She said, "I've heard that Bulgaria is pretty challenging for missionaries." He replied, "Oh, it was so hard! You can't imagine how hard it was! My mission must have been the hardest mission in the world!"

Grinning, she asked, "If it was so hard, what made it so great?" He struck a Napoleon-like pose and said, "Because I did what they sent me to do. And I left Bulgaria better than I found it."

Those words kept running through her mind during the flight home, and then she thought, when the time comes for us to pass through the veil don't we all hope to say, "I did what I was sent to do, and I left people I met and places I went better than I found them"?

There's a scriptural term for this: "To fill the measure of our creation," (see Doctrine & Covenants 88:19), meaning to do what God intended us to do while we're here. I once heard this phrase used in a most unusual setting. It was during a television broadcast of a San Francisco 49ers game, and Steve Young was their quarterback. His performance that day was incredible, and there came a point where one of the broadcasters, a former NFL player and member of the Church, Todd Christensen , exclaimed: "Steve Young is certainly filling the measure of his creation today!" There was a noticeable silence from his broadcasting partner who acted as if he'd been spoken to in a foreign language. Ha!

When you get to be my age you realize how quickly life has passed. In the process, you find yourself thinking about lost opportunities and not so wise decisions. And I can tell you it is not a pleasant feeling to read your patriarchal blessing and realize there are promises unfulfilled. I can relate to a statement once made by British actress, Juliet Stevenson (Truly, Madly, Deeply): "I have quite a robust relationship with regret."

Each of us was given a "ladder" upon coming to earth. It would be regrettable to spend our time and energy in a lifetime of climbing our respective ladders only to discover, at the end of our lives, that they were leaning against the wrong walls. I encourage each of you to seek the guidance of the Spirit so that you will know whether your ladder is leaning against the right wall, for the world is full of enticing walls which only have false and empty promises waiting at the top.

We're here not just for the climb but to "fill the measure of our creation." I constantly pray we'll have the spiritual insight and discernment to be guided to the right wall for there we will find the blessings of heaven and the rewards for doing what we came here to do.