More thoughts on movies:
I saw Kung Fu Panda this weekend. Every preview I ever saw of that movie made it look incredibly la-ame (I thought), but a friend gave me very strong recommendation, and the reviews have mostly been surprisingly good (85% from Rotten Tomatoes, 7.8/10 on IMDb, and 3 stars from Roger Ebert), so I decided to give it a try.
I'm not sorry I did. In fact, I'm pretty happy I did. I haven't laughed that much in quite a while. Of course, if you're over the age of 13, you probably have to be a fan of Jack Black's humor for it to be really funny, but I think Jack Black is a funny, funny man, so I laughed a lot. There was this one part (the acupuncture scene, for those of you who have seen it) that, even now, has me giggling when I think about it. And it was consistently funny throughout. Really, if you're in the mood for a good laugh, this is a pretty good flick. It has--oh, it's just so funny at times!
I sense an intense revolution--a paradigm shift, if you will--coming my way. As I may have mentioned before, I go through phases--"It's a phase he's going through," is a pretty fair way to describe my behavior at any given time. At least, that's always been my theory regarding myself; lately I've been so terribly consistent in some of my opinions that I've occasionally worried that I've arrived, and I don't intend to really "arrive" until long after I'm dead.
So anyway, this change: I want to start running far, far away from my gloomy intellectualism. There was a man I met during my sojourn in Idaho whom I knew as Brother Ganns. He was a fascinating human being, absolutely fascinating; I had no idea people like him existed--never crossed my mind, actually--and, to my knowledge, he is the only one of his kind. The man gets up every morning looong before he has to so he can spend an hour reading from the Book of Mormon, and hour in the Bible, and then another hour in whatever his other reading happened to be at the time (when I knew him, he had finished his reading of Journal of Discourses, making a personal index as he went because he felt the published index was insufficient, and was then working on the complete works of Nibley). The man was the most intense gospel scholar I have ever had the pleasure of meeting; seriously, he could tell you anything you wanted to know about anything you could think of, and he could site sources to back up what he said. His library was very impressive, but the fact that most of it was in his head as well as on his shelves made it even more so.
The best part about Brother Ganns, though, was that he was a totally nut; I mean this man was crazy. He is the closest thing to a 6'2", 50-year-old Jack Russel terrier that I have ever met. Seriously, every time he saw anyone he knew, it was as though it was a happy reunion after a long separation. And, strangely enough, it was never weird, and it never got old. Quite to the contrary, actually, it was contagious, and every time I saw him made my day. He'd see us and just light up, and we'd light up, too, because he was, in fact, the most lovable individual I have ever known.
Even as a missionary, that was hard for me to understand, but the more scholastic training I receive, the more unfathomable he becomes to me because I am incredibly guilty of falling prey to the school of thought that says the only happy people are the ones who really don't understand what's going on in the world around them and that all the really smart people become cynics.
Well, I'm done with that. I'm tossing it off like an old coat. I'm tired of being pensive. From here on out, I intend to laugh more. From here on out, I intend to joke more, to become lighter in heart, to just generally be happier. I've posted a few things along the lines of "I'm gonna be happier," but I always wanted to cling to my dark realism. Book's I've read recently: Night by Elie Wiesel and Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee. Cheery, no? The Jewish holocaust and the abuses against the Lamanites. I'm done with it; done, I say! I understand that the world has been and is and will be a somewhat terrible place, but I don't think focusing on that fact will help me grow a whole lot. In fact, it may be just as bad as all the happy feel-good escapist stuff I've been so down on lately--which maybe I'll start reading now, who knows!
That said, I do still expect what I read to be well crafted. I still think Iron Man should have died, but I'm okay with him surviving; I just wish that the story would have led to that denouement a little more logically.
So I'm repenting. I'm changing my gloomy ways. Who's with me?
09 June 2008
05 June 2008
Post 134
I been thinking about movies....
My review of Dan in Real Life was--well, it wasn't much of a review. The movie just didn't do a thing for me, I didn't think; it seemed so--unremarkable. (The anonymous comment on that post is pretty good, though; thanks, Anonymous!)
But I've been thinking about it lately, and I realized that, despite the fact that I was completely underwhelmed by Dan in Real Life, seeing it marks the first time that I ever took note of Steve Carell, whom I'm now a fan of. And, I recently realized, the reason I'm such a fan of him is because I've been extremely impressed by his performance in two movies that I thought were otherwise fairly forgettable: Dan in Real Life and Anchorman. See, Dan in Real Life offered Steve virtually nothing to work with, yet he was absolutely amazing in it. And the blasé plot and pitiful supporting actors merely made a spectacular backdrop of gray for him to shine out from. He was so good! And then seeing him give a particularly notable rendition of dum-as-dirt in Anchorman convinced me that the man can do anything, and I am so excited for Get Smart to come out because I trust Mr. Carell to not screw it up (which would frankly be pretty easy to do with something like Get Smart).
(Oh, and for those of you who are wondering, no, I've never seen The Office, though it is much more appealing now that I know who Steve Carell is.)
Next, I saw Cloverfield again a couple nights ago. That movie is remarkably lacking in rewatchability, as it turns out: I enjoyed it about as much the second time as I expected to the first time. Still, because I did like it so much the first time, I think my recommendation still stands to anyone who hasn't seen it; you should definitely give it a try. But don't, like, run out and buy it or anything like that; I don't think that wise (I'm pretty relieved I didn't do that; I was considering it).
Last thought on movies for this post, I watched Stranger than Fiction last night. I love that movie. It and Big Fish are my two favorites right now, which boggles my mind because they are both far from any of my proclaimed ideals for fiction. I mean, Big Fish is blatantly ridiculous, and Stranger than Fiction is just as blatantly an exercise in deus ex machina. But I still love them. Don't know why, but I do.
My review of Dan in Real Life was--well, it wasn't much of a review. The movie just didn't do a thing for me, I didn't think; it seemed so--unremarkable. (The anonymous comment on that post is pretty good, though; thanks, Anonymous!)
But I've been thinking about it lately, and I realized that, despite the fact that I was completely underwhelmed by Dan in Real Life, seeing it marks the first time that I ever took note of Steve Carell, whom I'm now a fan of. And, I recently realized, the reason I'm such a fan of him is because I've been extremely impressed by his performance in two movies that I thought were otherwise fairly forgettable: Dan in Real Life and Anchorman. See, Dan in Real Life offered Steve virtually nothing to work with, yet he was absolutely amazing in it. And the blasé plot and pitiful supporting actors merely made a spectacular backdrop of gray for him to shine out from. He was so good! And then seeing him give a particularly notable rendition of dum-as-dirt in Anchorman convinced me that the man can do anything, and I am so excited for Get Smart to come out because I trust Mr. Carell to not screw it up (which would frankly be pretty easy to do with something like Get Smart).
(Oh, and for those of you who are wondering, no, I've never seen The Office, though it is much more appealing now that I know who Steve Carell is.)
Next, I saw Cloverfield again a couple nights ago. That movie is remarkably lacking in rewatchability, as it turns out: I enjoyed it about as much the second time as I expected to the first time. Still, because I did like it so much the first time, I think my recommendation still stands to anyone who hasn't seen it; you should definitely give it a try. But don't, like, run out and buy it or anything like that; I don't think that wise (I'm pretty relieved I didn't do that; I was considering it).
Last thought on movies for this post, I watched Stranger than Fiction last night. I love that movie. It and Big Fish are my two favorites right now, which boggles my mind because they are both far from any of my proclaimed ideals for fiction. I mean, Big Fish is blatantly ridiculous, and Stranger than Fiction is just as blatantly an exercise in deus ex machina. But I still love them. Don't know why, but I do.
Post 133
Automated emails are so funny sometimes!
JetBlue again. This time they said, "As a TrueBlue member, you can enjoy jetting with JetBlue even more knowing you're earning free travel along the way. And with the 0 TrueBlue points you've earned as of June 3, 2008, you're on your way to redeeming for your next Award Flight. But you could be even further than that, with our offer to get you jetting sooner with the JetBlue Card from American Express."
0 points is really something, huh?
JetBlue again. This time they said, "As a TrueBlue member, you can enjoy jetting with JetBlue even more knowing you're earning free travel along the way. And with the 0 TrueBlue points you've earned as of June 3, 2008, you're on your way to redeeming for your next Award Flight. But you could be even further than that, with our offer to get you jetting sooner with the JetBlue Card from American Express."
0 points is really something, huh?
01 June 2008
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
But me, I'm not perfect. I make mistakes all the time. Say something about that, Mr. Lewis, I beg.
But sometimes we fail, Mr. Lewis; sometimes we feel so all alone! What then?
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:
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:
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):
Oh, Brother Brigham, how I love you. Give me some more!
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.
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.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.
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.
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.
27 May 2008
Post 131
Last night I watched Intolerable Cruelty with my roommates. It was a good flick; I kinda enjoyed it. The humor was fast and clever but never called attention to itself, so I occasionally found myself thinking, "I think something funny just happened, but I totally missed it." Therefore I feel confident in saying that this movie probably gets better the more times you watch it.
I understand now why Thmazing likes it so much.
More than reviewing the movie, though, I'd like to ramble about some thoughts that've been going round and round in my head of late. [I've never really understood that convention: "of late"? What the heck is that supposed to mean, anyway? Grammatically, I mean. It just seems so archaic. Why do people even use it when we have "lately" at our disposal?] It was funny to me that I had just been out on a long walk, monologuing to myself about a certain topic, and then I came home and watched Intolerable Cruelty, which dealt with that same topic, so now I can talk about it in reference to this movie that I'm pretending to review and no one will know that this movie review is just a pretense and that I'm actually following my own private agenda. Oh! I'm so sneaky.
Anyway, I wanna ramble about the concept of independence. I'ma gonna go out on a limb here and say that the desire to be independent is not a righteous desire, and my comments section is, as ever, wide open for disagreement, dissension, and mudslinging. So. Onward!
In Intolerable Cruelty, Marylin is seeking independence. She spuriously marries wealthy men so she can divorce them and take their money, but she doesn't claim to be a simple gold digger; she says that money means independence, and independence is what she really wants. Marriage and divorce are merely means to get money, and money is merely a means to get independence--and--and--uh....
I give up. Here's what's on my mind:
So many people seem to be driven by a desire to be completely independent, to transcend their reliance on other people and society as a whole, to transcend their reliance on organizations and support groups, and ultimately (in some cases) to transcend their reliance on any sort of Supreme Being. I doubt many readers of this blog would argue that we ought to try to become independent of God, but I think that our delusions of other forms of independence are nearly as crippling.
My parents raised me to become independent--at least, that's what my Mom's always lamenting because, as it turns out, they did a bang up job of it: we kids never come to visit much. I remember a few months ago when a friend of mine told me that she was planning to leave at the beginning of the summer, I was honestly confused.
"Where are you gonna go?" I asked.
"Um. Home," she said, as though I were mildly retarded.
Oh. Why on earth would anyone do that? It just doesn't make sense in my head. I mean, I love my parents, and I'm always happy to see them; I call them every Sunday just to say hello and chat for a while, but I could never go back to living with them! That, to me, would be an indication of regression.
Yet, in the Gospel, we're always talking about sealing all the generations together, and we talk about heaven in terms of families; heck, Joseph Smith said that we'll have the same sociality in the Celestial Kingdom that we have here (D&C 130:2). Furthermore, from a more biological and less theological standpoint, we humans are social creatures; that's our nature even if we are constantly fighting against it.
But I'm not really talking about kids and parents drifting apart. No, it is good and healthy for offspring to leave the nest to build a nest of their own. I'm talking about the lack of trust we have in each other. I know some people who are so guarded that they are little more than a facade; they hide deep within themselves and never let anyone inside to meet them. They build a fortress from the bricks of bad experience with the mortar of pain and set a guard out front. Sometimes the guard is a jester; other times, a brute. Either way, the royal soul inside wastes away, unknown and unknowable. [Little over the top? Hopefully not too much....]
I think I understand solitude better than many people my age. Maybe not, but I like to think I do. My long walks after dark are almost a nightly occurrence; I'm just the sort of guy who needs some alone time on a fairly regular basis. I don't consider myself an antisocial person; I just like my solitude. It's refreshing to walk alone in the middle of the night: my mind clears, I pray aloud, and life starts to make sense.
On the other hand, I know all too well how crippling solitude can be, and I know the pain of isolation. For one who claims to love his solitude, I sure do find myself grappling with intense loneliness a lot, and I find it hard to believe that people who hole up deep within themselves and never let anyone get too close can ever be truly happy. And I worry about those people a lot because I know that, beneath that smooth exterior, a sea of emotion is roiling just below a boil. The thing that scares me most is that, we're all so oblivious to what's inside of people, there's rarely any way to know the time bomb's ticking until it goes off.
I propose, then, that, if we all shot for interdependence rather than independence, we'd all be a lot better off. So, I dunno, like, go give someone a hug, or something, before the whole world explodes.
I understand now why Thmazing likes it so much.
More than reviewing the movie, though, I'd like to ramble about some thoughts that've been going round and round in my head of late. [I've never really understood that convention: "of late"? What the heck is that supposed to mean, anyway? Grammatically, I mean. It just seems so archaic. Why do people even use it when we have "lately" at our disposal?] It was funny to me that I had just been out on a long walk, monologuing to myself about a certain topic, and then I came home and watched Intolerable Cruelty, which dealt with that same topic, so now I can talk about it in reference to this movie that I'm pretending to review and no one will know that this movie review is just a pretense and that I'm actually following my own private agenda. Oh! I'm so sneaky.
Anyway, I wanna ramble about the concept of independence. I'ma gonna go out on a limb here and say that the desire to be independent is not a righteous desire, and my comments section is, as ever, wide open for disagreement, dissension, and mudslinging. So. Onward!
In Intolerable Cruelty, Marylin is seeking independence. She spuriously marries wealthy men so she can divorce them and take their money, but she doesn't claim to be a simple gold digger; she says that money means independence, and independence is what she really wants. Marriage and divorce are merely means to get money, and money is merely a means to get independence--and--and--uh....
I give up. Here's what's on my mind:
So many people seem to be driven by a desire to be completely independent, to transcend their reliance on other people and society as a whole, to transcend their reliance on organizations and support groups, and ultimately (in some cases) to transcend their reliance on any sort of Supreme Being. I doubt many readers of this blog would argue that we ought to try to become independent of God, but I think that our delusions of other forms of independence are nearly as crippling.
My parents raised me to become independent--at least, that's what my Mom's always lamenting because, as it turns out, they did a bang up job of it: we kids never come to visit much. I remember a few months ago when a friend of mine told me that she was planning to leave at the beginning of the summer, I was honestly confused.
"Where are you gonna go?" I asked.
"Um. Home," she said, as though I were mildly retarded.
Oh. Why on earth would anyone do that? It just doesn't make sense in my head. I mean, I love my parents, and I'm always happy to see them; I call them every Sunday just to say hello and chat for a while, but I could never go back to living with them! That, to me, would be an indication of regression.
Yet, in the Gospel, we're always talking about sealing all the generations together, and we talk about heaven in terms of families; heck, Joseph Smith said that we'll have the same sociality in the Celestial Kingdom that we have here (D&C 130:2). Furthermore, from a more biological and less theological standpoint, we humans are social creatures; that's our nature even if we are constantly fighting against it.
But I'm not really talking about kids and parents drifting apart. No, it is good and healthy for offspring to leave the nest to build a nest of their own. I'm talking about the lack of trust we have in each other. I know some people who are so guarded that they are little more than a facade; they hide deep within themselves and never let anyone inside to meet them. They build a fortress from the bricks of bad experience with the mortar of pain and set a guard out front. Sometimes the guard is a jester; other times, a brute. Either way, the royal soul inside wastes away, unknown and unknowable. [Little over the top? Hopefully not too much....]
I think I understand solitude better than many people my age. Maybe not, but I like to think I do. My long walks after dark are almost a nightly occurrence; I'm just the sort of guy who needs some alone time on a fairly regular basis. I don't consider myself an antisocial person; I just like my solitude. It's refreshing to walk alone in the middle of the night: my mind clears, I pray aloud, and life starts to make sense.
On the other hand, I know all too well how crippling solitude can be, and I know the pain of isolation. For one who claims to love his solitude, I sure do find myself grappling with intense loneliness a lot, and I find it hard to believe that people who hole up deep within themselves and never let anyone get too close can ever be truly happy. And I worry about those people a lot because I know that, beneath that smooth exterior, a sea of emotion is roiling just below a boil. The thing that scares me most is that, we're all so oblivious to what's inside of people, there's rarely any way to know the time bomb's ticking until it goes off.
I propose, then, that, if we all shot for interdependence rather than independence, we'd all be a lot better off. So, I dunno, like, go give someone a hug, or something, before the whole world explodes.
26 May 2008
Post 130
According to Nephi (whom I deem very trustworthy even if he was a little tactless sometimes), Lehi "dwelt at Jerusalem in all his days" prior to their family exodus into the wilderness (1 Nephi 1:4). So Lehi was born and raised in Jerusalem, raised his children to adulthood there, was prosperous and wealthy, probably very comfortable, and then the Lord told him he had to leave.
It seems to me that that would be a frightening call: to go out into the desert, not really knowing where you're heading--I would be a little hesitant. But Lehi, far from showing any signs of worry or doubt, seems to have never batted the proverbial eye at this idea. In fact, after he had sent his sons back for the plates, when his wife was totally wigging out on him and saying that he sent their sons off to die and that he and she were going to die now too--even at this very low point early on in the journey--just a few days into their decade-long journey--Lehi says, "I have obtained a land of promise, in the which things I do rejoice" (1 Nephi 5:5).
Lehi, you're still a decade away from that land of promise, and your wife is losing faith already because she thinks your sons are dead! You haven't obtained a land of promise; you're stuck in the desert!
But Lehi understood that, when God promises you something, it's yours; even before you receive it, if God says you can have something, you don't have to worry about delivery dates or bumps along the road because you can have absolute confidence that it will be yours.
And, if God calls you to move away from the only place you've ever known, taking you from a life of cold comfort into the scorching desert, and your sons rebel, and your wife complains, and you run out of food--just know that His promises will be fulfilled.
Sometimes God calls us to do things that we don't want to do, things that don't make any sense from our limited perspective. Sometimes He forces us to wait a long time for things that we think we ought to receive now. But I'm sure that He knows best--certainly He knows far better than we can--so just be patient a bit. Go out into that desert; water that burnt offering; "fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them," and all will be well.
It seems to me that that would be a frightening call: to go out into the desert, not really knowing where you're heading--I would be a little hesitant. But Lehi, far from showing any signs of worry or doubt, seems to have never batted the proverbial eye at this idea. In fact, after he had sent his sons back for the plates, when his wife was totally wigging out on him and saying that he sent their sons off to die and that he and she were going to die now too--even at this very low point early on in the journey--just a few days into their decade-long journey--Lehi says, "I have obtained a land of promise, in the which things I do rejoice" (1 Nephi 5:5).
Lehi, you're still a decade away from that land of promise, and your wife is losing faith already because she thinks your sons are dead! You haven't obtained a land of promise; you're stuck in the desert!
But Lehi understood that, when God promises you something, it's yours; even before you receive it, if God says you can have something, you don't have to worry about delivery dates or bumps along the road because you can have absolute confidence that it will be yours.
And, if God calls you to move away from the only place you've ever known, taking you from a life of cold comfort into the scorching desert, and your sons rebel, and your wife complains, and you run out of food--just know that His promises will be fulfilled.
Sometimes God calls us to do things that we don't want to do, things that don't make any sense from our limited perspective. Sometimes He forces us to wait a long time for things that we think we ought to receive now. But I'm sure that He knows best--certainly He knows far better than we can--so just be patient a bit. Go out into that desert; water that burnt offering; "fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them," and all will be well.
23 May 2008
Post 129
They did it! They really did it!
Good work, Mr. Lucas: you finally managed to not screw up. It's been so long....
So, I just saw the latest Indiana Jones. It was great; I loved it. They actually managed to capture the happy, feel-good adventure flick sentiment that we all loved in the originals. And, if you have any grasp on the concept of cinematographic omage, then this movie has got a lot for you.
I'm not going to go through the trouble of trying to sum up the plot for you (but if you like that, Roger Ebert's review is great). But I do wanna say that, when the movie began with Commies forcing Indy to guide them to a box in a government warehouse, I was sure it had to be the Arc of the Covenant--but I quickly figured out that I was wrong. Nevertheless, I thought to myself, "If they let this scene end without at least mentioning the Arc, I'm totally gonna walk." [Sidenote: in reality, I probably wouldn't have walked out because I was on a date, but that was my sentiment.] I was much relieved that they didn't let me down.
There was another scene when I was so sure I was seeing the Breath of God that I almost shouted, "Penitent man kneel!" but I resisted the urge. Also, at one point it looked as though the the crazy lady was gonna try the heart-ectomy a la Temple of Doom on Indy, and I coulda sworn he was thinkin' the same thing, but maybe I was just looking too hard. The one that made me the happiest, though, was the Han Solo bit--that was awesome (I thought; I certainly don't regret saying, "Ha ha ha" loudly while slapping my knee).
Overall, I found the movie quite enjoyable--which is totally astonishing since I probably would've thought beforehand that the sight of a flying saucer coming out of an Amazon temple ruin would be enough to turn me off to any movie.
Anyway, if you like Indiana Jones, I'm fairly confident in saying that Kingdom of the Crystal Skull will probably not disappoint. Sure, it's a little out there, but if you could swallow the other movies, this one shouldn't strain your willing suspension of disbelief too terribly.
Oh, and if you're a Scrubs fan, then you'll be absolutely ecstatic to know that the Janitor makes an appearance, and he totally interrogates Indy--that was a proud moment in Hollywood history. At least, it certainly got this little butterfly squeaking with glee; I had to bottle my shout of "THE JANITOR'S TOTALLY IN INDIANA JONES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and save it till I got home.
Good work, Mr. Lucas: you finally managed to not screw up. It's been so long....
So, I just saw the latest Indiana Jones. It was great; I loved it. They actually managed to capture the happy, feel-good adventure flick sentiment that we all loved in the originals. And, if you have any grasp on the concept of cinematographic omage, then this movie has got a lot for you.
I'm not going to go through the trouble of trying to sum up the plot for you (but if you like that, Roger Ebert's review is great). But I do wanna say that, when the movie began with Commies forcing Indy to guide them to a box in a government warehouse, I was sure it had to be the Arc of the Covenant--but I quickly figured out that I was wrong. Nevertheless, I thought to myself, "If they let this scene end without at least mentioning the Arc, I'm totally gonna walk." [Sidenote: in reality, I probably wouldn't have walked out because I was on a date, but that was my sentiment.] I was much relieved that they didn't let me down.
There was another scene when I was so sure I was seeing the Breath of God that I almost shouted, "Penitent man kneel!" but I resisted the urge. Also, at one point it looked as though the the crazy lady was gonna try the heart-ectomy a la Temple of Doom on Indy, and I coulda sworn he was thinkin' the same thing, but maybe I was just looking too hard. The one that made me the happiest, though, was the Han Solo bit--that was awesome (I thought; I certainly don't regret saying, "Ha ha ha" loudly while slapping my knee).
Overall, I found the movie quite enjoyable--which is totally astonishing since I probably would've thought beforehand that the sight of a flying saucer coming out of an Amazon temple ruin would be enough to turn me off to any movie.
Anyway, if you like Indiana Jones, I'm fairly confident in saying that Kingdom of the Crystal Skull will probably not disappoint. Sure, it's a little out there, but if you could swallow the other movies, this one shouldn't strain your willing suspension of disbelief too terribly.
Oh, and if you're a Scrubs fan, then you'll be absolutely ecstatic to know that the Janitor makes an appearance, and he totally interrogates Indy--that was a proud moment in Hollywood history. At least, it certainly got this little butterfly squeaking with glee; I had to bottle my shout of "THE JANITOR'S TOTALLY IN INDIANA JONES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and save it till I got home.
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