Post 132

Prepare yourself for the marathon post of your life. Seriously, thisun'll probably go on forever. I don't expect you to read it all in a go; I'll try to give it several headings so you can read it here and there a piece at a time, so feel free to read it in part and comment on just that part or to read the whole thing and comment on it all or to peruse without commenting at all (though this last option is my least favorite, I must admit).

Today my thoughts dwell upon gifts, most significantly God's gift of His Son. There's a lot to be said, so I don't see brevity being much of a possibility (hence the foregoing disclaimer).

Where to begin? I suppose I'll start as fundamentally as I know how and expand outward. Here we go with heading number one:

God's Gift to Me

I know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, that He suffered and died to save us all from sorrow and sin and ultimate damnation, that He rose from the dead and is now alive and well somewhere in the universe as a resurrected being. He is man in form, was born and grew up in the natural way, experienced life on earth just like anyone else. But He is greater than man, perfect and all powerful.

I hold this knowledge sacred. I consider my conviction of the above a dear gift to me from God (and, indeed, modern scripture verifies this notion). When I think of all the people who live or have lived without this knowledge, I feel deeply grateful to have been so blessed; I cannot imagine living without it.

God's Gift to All

The Atonement of Jesus Christ is the most far-reaching act to have been perpetrated upon this earth; it affects us all more than we can know and can affect us more than it does if we would let it.

Along with most of the Christian world (I imagine), I am a big fan of Isaiah's prophecy of Christ in Isaiah 53:3-6, but I think it says a lot more than many people realize, so I'd like to break it apart, take it in sections, and tell you why it means so much to me:

"SURELY HE HAS BORNE OUR GRIEFS, AND CARRIED OUR SORROWS" (v4)

This says nothing about Christ suffering for our sins or conquering death; rather, this says that He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows. So many times, we think of the Atonement as this wonderful thing that makes it possible for us to be absolved from our sins, and it is that, but it's so much more than that, too! Christ has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; He knows what it is we struggle with, what weighs us down, for He has carried it already and will help us to carry it now. Just one verse earlier, Isaiah refers to Christ as "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief"; juxtaposing these two clauses makes them both more meaningful, methinks.

"HE WAS WOUNDED FOR OUR TRANSGRESSIONS, HE WAS BRUISED FOR OUR INIQUITIES: THE CHASTISEMENT OF OUR PEACE WAS UPON HIM; AND WITH HIS STRIPES WE ARE HEALED" (v5)

Now Isaiah gives to us the part of the Atonement that we more commonly think on. This verse is very good news for us. Without it, we would all be lost, for (as Isaiah points out in the next verse) we all wander off course: "All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all."

I love Jesus. To suffer for my sins and pains--and not just mine but everybody's!--I cannot fathom.

For a less succinct but more detailed description of what all Christ suffered for us, I refer you to the American prophet Alma and his address to the people of Gideon (or, more specifically, this part of it); I'll probably quote that scripture eventually, but if you're just reading this section of this post, that'd be a good way to finish your reading with something scriptural to ponder on.

He Will not Leave Us Orphaned

Among the many magnificent things Christ told His Apostles while they were in the upper room with Him prior to going to Gethsemane, he said, "I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you [and] because I live, ye shall live also" (John 14:18-19). [FYI: The Greek word orphanos (here translated "comfortless") means "orphans," which is why I titled this section the way I did.] Shortly after that, He said, "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid" (John 14:27).

The peace that can come to us through living the Gospel of Jesus Christ is a real wonder. "[N]ot as the world giveth, give I unto you," He said, but what exactly does that mean?

Though I dare not claim to know what was in His mind at that moment, looking at the aggregate of the LDS canon, I have noticed a few interesting things about peace: first, peace has nothing to do with what's going on around us; second, peace can mean a lot of different things (check it out). I'd like to focus more on the first.

PEACE LIES WITHIN

In the Book of Mormon, in the first chapter of Alma, a man named Nehor comes among the righteous Nephites and causes all sorts of havoc, teaching the people "that which he termed to be the word of God [...] declaring unto [them] that every priest and teacher ought to become popular [and] that they ought to be supported by the people" (Alma 1:3). Worse yet, "he also testified unto the people that all mankind should be saved at the last day [...] and, in the end, all men should have eternal life" (Alma 1:4), which philosophy enabled him to lead the people into all kinds of terrible sins. Ultimately, Nehor ended up suffering an "ignominious death" because he murdered a righteous man (Alma 1:15), but his followers continued in wickedness long after his death, and they "began to persecute those that did belong to the church of God, and had taken upon them the name of Christ" (Alma 1:19). "Now this was a great trial to those that did stand fast in the faith; nevertheless, they were steadfast and immovable in keeping the commandments of God, and they bore with patience the persecution which was heaped upon them" (Alma 1:25).

When I think of peace, I often find myself thinking of the sort of peace that Miss America always wishes for: the kind that involves everyone putting away their weapons and hatred and being nice to each other. In Alma 1, that sort of peace was not had among the followers of Christ. Yet Alma records that "they did establish the affairs of the church; and thus they began to have continual peace again, notwithstanding all their persecutions" (v28).

Peace has nothing to do with what is going on in the world around us. It's all about our conviction and the confidence and determination that come from knowing Jesus is the Christ. When we have that kind of peace, it really doesn't matter whether war rears its ugly head all about us; we can be assured that all will be well--ultimately, at least. For Christ "will come to [us] [and] because [He] live[s], [we] shall live also."

The Refiner's Fire: A Prologue

Malachi said, The LORD "is like a refiner's fire, and like fullers' soap" (Malachi 3:2). I didn't know anything about fullers until just now when I looked it up (fuller, soap, fuller's soap), so I don't have any analogies to pair with that part of Malachi's statement. But I do have an earful on the Refiner's Fire, so here we go.

I won't take the time to relate to you the story of the women who visit the silversmith, but it's a good one if you haven't heard it (if you've heard it a million times like me--and half of those times, it was told poorly--then the effect of it has probably waned a bit since you first heard it, which is why I don't feel inclined to retell it). The basic thrust of the story (as with most stories relating to this concept) is that all that pain we deal with is good for us and that God won't give us more than we can handle (which is vaguely reminiscent of 1 Corinthians 10:13 and Ether 12:27, though neither one of those popular scriptures hit this concept more than obliquely, I don't think).

Before I launch into the many scriptures that I have mentally connected to this concept and hit a million tangents and am unable to return, I want to defer my discussion of the Refiner's Fire just long enough to give you some C. S. Lewis:

I love C. S. Lewis. For Easter, my parents gave me a little book of C. S. Lewis quotations, and it comes in oh so handy in pondering Things. I'm afraid, therefore, that I can't make referential hyperlinks here because the book isn't very good about giving me sources.

Anyway, Mr. Lewis says some great things about the purpose of pain in life; I will label them for you:

GOD DISCOMFORTS US TO TURN US TO HIM

God, who has made us, know what we are and that our happiness lies in Him. Yet we will not seek it in Him as long as he leaves us any other resort where it can even plausibly be looked for While what we call 'our own life' remains agreeable we will not surrender it to Him. What then can God do in our interests but make 'our own life' less agreeable to us, and take away the plausible source of false happiness?

GOD WANTS US TO BE MORE LIKE HIM, AND SOMETIMES CHANGE MEANS PAIN

Imagine yourself as a living house, God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is he up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of--throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.

The command Be ye perfect is not idealistic gas. Nor is it a command to do the impossible. He is going to make us into creatures that can obey that command. He said (in the Bible) that we were 'gods' and He is going to make good His word. If we let Him--for we can prevent Him, if we choose--He will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a god or goddess, a dazzling, radiant, immortal creature, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, a bright stainless mirror which reflects back to God perfectly (though, of course, on a smaller scale) His own boundless power and delight and goodness. The process will be long and in parts very painful, but that is what we are in for. Nothing less. He meant what He said.

That's pretty intense, when you think about it. Certainly that transformation is going to require more than a little refining--a whole lot of fire and a whole lot of pain--but, in the end, we will have more than was ever required of us. Wonderful thought, that.

But me, I'm not perfect. I make mistakes all the time. Say something about that, Mr. Lewis, I beg.

On the one hand, God's demand for perfection need not discourage you in the least in your present attempts to be good, or even in your present failures. Each time you fall He will pick you up again. And He knows perfectly well that your own efforts are never going to bring you anywhere near perfection. On the other hand, you must realise from the onset that the goal towards which He is beginning to guide you is absolute perfection; and no power in the whole universe, except you yourself, can prevent Him from taking you to that goal. That is what you are in for. And it is very important to realise that. If we do not, then we are very likely to start pulling back and resisting Him after a certain point.

But sometimes we fail, Mr. Lewis; sometimes we feel so all alone! What then?

You must ask for God's help. Even when you have done so, it may seem to you for a long time that no help, or less help than you need, is being given. Never mind. After each failure, ask forgiveness, pick yourself up, and try again. Very often what God first helps us towards is not the virtue itself but just this power of always trying again.

Thank you, Mr. Lewis; that will do.

The Refiner's Fire

We all face trials from time to time throughout our lives, but very few have faced the Refiner's Fire more literally than Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego. King Nebuchadnezzar made 90'-tall statue and commanded all his subjects to worship it whenever his little band started playing the worship song, but these three insolent Jewish teenagers refused to do so and were therefore arraigned before the King. He was furious, but he said he'd give them a second chance. "[B]ut if you worship not," he warned them, "ye shall be cast the same hour into the midst of a burning fiery furnace; and who is that God that shall deliver you out of my hands?" (Daniel 3:15).

"O Nebuchadnezzar," the said, "we are not careful to answer thee in this matter. If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us our of thing hand, O king. But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up" (Daniel 3:17-18).

I love these guys; really, I do. I cannot imagine saying such a thing to a king. Even if I were as determined to avoid breaking the second of the ten commandments as they were, I'm not sure I could put it so boldly. That, my friends, is the quintessential awesome: to say "Suck it yea verily" to the king of the Babylonian empire--man.

[Incidentally, that phrase "But if not" is amazing all on its own and warranted a wonderful address a few years back. You can find that here.]

Anyway, back to the story. Where was I? Oh: "...be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up."

Well, the king didn't cotton to that too kindly. To be honest, he was furious, and I mean downright truculent--"full of fury" the scripture says; h was so mad that he commanded his men to heat the burning fiery furnace "one seven times more than it was wont to be heated" (Daniel 3:19)--so hot that the men who were heating it died--and then he had Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego tossed into that fire (as I understand it, through the chimney).

Then the king, sick man that he was, rubbed his hands together in perverted glee as he sat back to watch (from a safe distance) the death of these rebels.

It was a show he never saw:

"Then Nebuchadnezzar the king was astonied, and rose up in haste, and spake, and said unto his counsellors, Did not we cast three men bound into the midst of the fire? They answered and said unto the king, True, O king. He answered and said, Lo, I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt; and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God" (Daniel 3:24-25).

How Nebuchadnezzar (of all people!) could identify Jesus across the room and through the flames, I haven't the vaguest idea, but this soon-to-be-formerly-pagan king was witness to something both extremely amazing but also (I contend) surprisingly commonplace (at least in the lives of the faithful).

I hope that no one reading this blog is ever condemned to physical death by fire, and I'm not promising that everyone who has faith in Christ would be protected in such a case (in fact, I can think of so many relevant counterexamples that I would feel rather pessimistic linking to any of them, so no parenthetical references here, no sir!), but whenever we are called upon to stand in the Refiner's Fire, Christ doesn't just watch us carefully; He actually stands in the flame with us.

SAVIOR ON BOARD

Remember when Jesus walked on water? The weather was pretty stormy that night, and the Apostles in their boat were "toiling in rowing; for the wind was contrary unto them" (Mark 6:47-48). Jesus could see them from where he was on the land. He could tell they were in trouble, so He went to them (remember "I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you [and] because I live, ye shall live also" [John 14:18-19]?). The most fascinating part of this story to me (the relevant part to what I'm saying) is that He didn't calm the stormy sea from where He was on the land. Certainly He could have. Why didn't He? Well, let's look at what He did:

[A]bout the fourth watch of the night he cometh unto them, walking upon the sea, and would have passed by them. But when they saw him walking upon the sea, they supposed it had been a spirit, and cried out: For they all saw him, and were troubled. And immediately he talked with them, and saith unto them, Be of good cheer: it is I; be not afraid. And he went up unto them into the ship; and the wind ceased...(Mark 6:48-51).

First of all, notice that, until they called out to Him, He made as though He was just going to pass them by. Lesson #1: ask for help!! More important to this discussion, though, is the fact that the waters calmed when Jesus got into their boat. He got in the boat with them! And then the waters calmed.

I actually like John's rendition of the story better: "Then they willingly received him into the ship: and immediately the ship was at the land whither they went" (John 6:21). They let Jesus into their boat, and they were suddenly where they needed to be.

Is Jesus in your boat?

CHRISTMAS PRESENTS

Mary and Joseph had the daunting task of raising the Son of God. When I think of the months leading up to that, I notice some pretty intense suffering. Consider Joseph getting the news that his espoused wife was pregnant. That's not something anyone wants to hear. Think of the shock, the disappointment. Thank goodness that angel came and told him what was really happening! More than Joseph, think of Mary. I can't imagine she made it through that time without at least some negative attention, and then there was that 70-mile journey (maybe longer if they went around Samaria) while she was within days of delivering her first child. And when that Child was finally born, it wasn't in any sort of comfortable or sanitary circumstances but rather among animals in a stable--not pleasant. (For more on these things, check out this article; it's a goodun).

Years later, when Christ was grown, He performed the Atonement. Isaiah tells us that Christ took upon Him our griefs, sorrows, transgression, iniquities, and the chastisement of our peace; Alma adds to this list our pains, afflictions, temptations, sicknesses, infirmities, and sins. Surely He could empathize with Joseph's shock and disappointment and Mary's discomfort and pain. Ours, too. No matter what you're suffering, He can understand and help you through. I am of the conviction that there is nothing so terrible that can happen to us that Christ can't turn it to our good--not just heal us, but actually consecrate our challenges and failings to our ultimate benefit.

CLEAN HANDS AND A PURE HEART

The Atonement brought about grace, which is available to all honest seekers of it. Grace can heal and cleanse us, but it can do so much more, too (check it out).

The ultimate purpose of the Refiner's Fire is to purify. Psalm 24 says that we need clean hands and a pure heart to stand in the LORD's holy place. It is only through the Atonement that this is possible (remember C. S. Lewis's "your own efforts are never going to bring you anywhere near perfection"?), but it is totally possible if we rely on Christ.

David A. Bednar (in this talk) distinguished clean hands from a pure heart, calling clean hands the "forgiveness of sin" and a pure heart "the transformation of our nature" (which hearkens back to Mr. Lewis's living house kinda, doesn't it?). Both are necessary in our journey to be with and like God and Jesus. We can't do it on our own. One of my favorite passages in all of scripturedom is this one in the Doctrine and Covenants. These are the sorts of beautiful words I hope to hear at judgment day:

Listen to him who is the advocate with the Father, who is pleading your cause before him--Saying: Father, behold the sufferings and death of him who did no sin, in whom thou wast well pleased; behold the blood of thy Son which was shed, the blood of him whom thou gavest that thyself might be glorified; Wherefore, Father, spare these [...who] believe on my name, that they may come unto me and have everlasting life (D&C 45:3-5).

CONCLUSION

Sometimes Christian living requires hard things of us, but Christ never requires us to do anything alone. He is always as close as we invite Him to be. And with Christ on our side (or, rather, if we're on His side!), what do we care about hardships? (Take these words from Paul or these ones from Joseph Smith.)

But still it's hard, isn't it? I think it's hard sometimes, but I always find that it's worth it. If we are faithful, it can be said of us as it was said of Alma and his fellows: "the Lord provided [...] that they should suffer no manner of afflictions, save it were swallowed up in the joy of Christ" (Alma 31:38).

Brigham Young said a couple of noteworthy things in this vein--probably more than a couple, but these two are especially good (and I know them):

We rejoice because the Lord is ours, because we are sown in weakness for the express purpose of attaining to greater power and perfection. In everything the Saints may rejoice--in persecution, because it is necessary to purge them [...]; in sickness and in pain, though they are hard to bear, because we are thereby made acquainted with pain, with sorrow, and with every affliction that mortals can endure, for by contact all things are demonstrated to our senses. [....] I rejoice because I am afflicted. I rejoice because I am poor. I rejoice because I am cast down. Why? Because I shall be lifted up again. I rejoice that I am poor because I shall be made rich; that I am afflicted, because I shall be comforted, and prepared to enjoy the felicity of perfect happiness, for it is impossible to properly appreciate happiness except by enduring the opposite (Journal of Discourses 1:359).

Oh, Brother Brigham, how I love you. Give me some more!

I have heard a great many tell about what they have suffered for Christ's sake. I am happy to say I never had occasion to. I have enjoyed a great deal, but so far as suffering goes I have compared it a great many times, in my feelings and before congregations, to a man wearing an old, worn-out, tattered and dirty coat, and somebody comes along and gives him one that is new, whole and beautiful. This is the comparison I draw when I think of what I have suffered for the Gospel's sake--I have thrown away an old coat and have put on a new one. No man or woman ever heard me tell about suffering. "Did you not leave a handsome property in Ohio, Missouri, and Illinois?" Yes. "And have you not suffered through that?" No, I have been growing better and better all the time, and so have this people. And you may take the history of the world from the days of Adam down, and I am at the defiance of any historian to prove that the Saints have ever suffered as much as the sinners. This is my belief about the religion of Jesus Christ. Some may say, "Did not the children of Israel suffer?" Yes. "Why?" Because of their iniquity. They transgressed the laws God had given them; they changed the ordinances and broke the everlasting covenant, and for their sin and disobedience they were led into captivity. If they had been obedient, I reckon they would have been led direct to the Holy Land, and stayed there. Some may say, "Now, Mr. Speaker, you have been driven from your home, was it for righteousness?" No, I expect not I expect it was to chasten me and make me better (Journal of Discourses 13:147).

Wow, what a man.

We will suffer. Henry B. Eyring said recently, "Because you are so valuable, some of your trials may be severe." The Lord loves us too much to mollycoddle us, but He will not leave us comfortless. As Journey sang, "Treasures in the jars of clay/Let the light shine out of darkness/Fallen down but not destroyed/It's just another trial by fire."

Ah me! I could go on and on about this, but I think that that's enough for this section.

Closing Remarks

I love Jesus. I know He is my personal Savior. I have come to know Him better as I have sought Him out in my times of sadness and pain. C. S. Lewis said, "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." But even though God often gives us pain, He has also given us His Son to help us through that pain. ("For God so loved the world..." and "Greater love hath no man than this..." both spring readily to my mind just now.) If we will but strive to stay close to Them, They will do so much more for us than we could ever hope to do on our own. I love Them; I'm so grateful to Them; I pray that all of us will come to know Them better.