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Perspective
"Efficiency" isn't that important to God
As a software engineer, it's my job to find the optimal way to do things. I'm constantly looking for the most efficient method to sort a list, store stuff in a database, and speed up a program. And once my brain is set to "optimization mode," it's hard to turn it off. For example, recently, as I waited for a temple session to start, I found myself mentally inventing ways to increase the throughput of proxy ordinance work. I came up with a way we could do ten times the number of names per endowment session with just a few minor tweaks and no degradation of the experience. But the Spirit interrupted my silent design session with a gentle rebuke: "This is the Temple. Look around. What gave you the idea that 'efficiency' is what's most important here?" As I pondered this experience later, many stories and insights from ancient and latter-day scripture flooded my mind. What did I learn? That by mortal standards, God operates very inefficiently, because He's working with a completely different set of priorities. Here are several seeming "inefficiencies" I'm grateful for.
What if I don't want to be resurrected?
I've recently been impressed to study the teachings and biographies of the First Presidency. My respect, love, and admiration for these men grow deeper with every chapter. It has been a powerful, revelatory experience, and I've also learned more about doctrine and Church history. For example, President Nelson's biography relates how his grandfather received a visitation from his late father from beyond the veil and recorded the interview.
Heaven and Hevel
My first son was born during a very busy time in our lives. I was working full-time, attending college full-time, and serving as a counselor in a branch presidency. It was a rough period of early mornings and late nights. Sometimes, I didn't see my baby boy awake for several days at a time. For his first birthday, my wife created a video of the moments she had captured and set it to music. Let me say upfront, I am not a crier; it drives my wife nuts. But I cried when I watched that video. So many firsts. So many moments when heaven touched earth. And I wasn't there for much of it. Those moments would never come again—not in that way, not with that child, not at that time. They were gone forever.
Flimsy Philosophies
We have observed a new religion seeping into the membership of the Church over the past decade. This religion is a deconstructed imitation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It copies the culture, vocabulary, and standard works of the Gospel, but waters down (and sometimes rejects outright) the foundational truths of the Gospel. If the Gospel is the healthy cows of Pharaoh's dream, then this alternate religion is the sickly cows-- hollowed-out shells of the real deal. And like the emaciated kine of Pharaoh's dream, this skeleton gospel devours and destroys healthy testimonies of the true Gospel it imitates.
What's up with Jesus's hands?
We have three kids ages 6 and under. Time out as a couple is rare and fleeting. Movie theaters are virtually out of the question. But when the first two episodes of The Chosen hit the box office last month, my wife and I made sure to go. I loved it. Watching those episodes was a wonderful experience. Until I ruined it. Spoilers ahead, you've been warned.
The last calling we receive
Three weeks ago, my wife and I received a phone call. Hope, my 57-year-old mother-in-law, had run out of chemotherapy options and was starting in-home hospice. Doctors estimated she had only a few weeks left. Hope wanted to hug her grandchildren again while she could, so we loaded the kids in the car and began the eight-hour journey to North Carolina. Two hours away from my in-laws' house, we received another call. Hope's condition had deteriorated rapidly. She was unconscious and gasping for breath. My wife joined a video call and pleaded with her mother to hold on just a few more hours so she could give her one last hug. But Hope couldn't hold on any longer.
The gift of our calling
It was five years, almost to the day, but if you saw a picture of that Bishop from the start of his term, you'd be forgiven for thinking 15 or 20 years had passed. The marital disputes, the midnight runs to the chapel to forestall eviction, and the last-second interviews had taken their toll on both his hairline and his beltline. "Busy as a man can be," indeed. But finally, it was time to pass the baton. The new Bishop took the stand to bear his testimony. "Brothers and sisters, during this season of the year we express gratitude for gifts. I want to start by thanking our Bishop for the gift of his devoted service in our ward." A moment of silence follows-- the Latter-day Saint chapel equivalent to hearty applause. "I thank my wife and children for the gift of accepting the call to sustain me without hesitation." Another well-deserved round of silent mental clapping. "And I especially want to thank God for His gift of calling to me to be the new Bishop." Wait... what?
Missionary work: getting in "the zone"
I pointed out in my previous post that the Lord and His servants have made it clear that when it comes to encouraging member missionary work, we need go beyond gimmicks and corporate management tactics. The Gospel of Jesus Christ doesn't need salesmen. Motivating members to occasionally perform missionary actions is not enough. God wants us to become missionaries in our hearts. We don't need a new program-- we need a new perspective. So... how do we do that? How do we turn missionary work from an activity we do to a lifestyle we live? It all starts with getting "in the zone."
Every member a... salesman?
What is the number one complaint among full-time missionaries? Zealous missionaries everywhere are disappointed that members are not inviting their non-member friends to hear the message of the Gospel. They are frustrated with good reason-- members generally are not doing our part to live our covenant to "stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things and in all places." Investigators, less-actives, and even the random people missionaries talk to at doorsteps are far more likely to refer them to a neighbor or friend than the active members of the Church are. Those who know the most about the Gospel and have experienced its blessings firsthand in their lives are usually the most reluctant to suggest that it be shared with others they know and love. So... what should we do about this lack of member participation? For starters, when it comes to member missionary work, we don't need a new program-- we need a new perspective.
Hello, my name is Corianton
This past week in Come, Follow Me, we read Alma's words to his son Corianton. Also, this past week, my wife and I started watching a new superhero show: DC's Stargirl. We're only a few episodes in, so the jury's still out, but one episode felt especially applicable to this week's studies. In this particular episode, we meet Yolanda: a successful, vibrant, outgoing young woman. She's part of a supportive, happy family and running for class president of her high school. One evening, she makes the mistake of sending an inappropriate picture of herself at her boyfriend's request. The next day, during her class presidential campaign speech, her picture is sent out to everybody in the school. Her class presidential campaign is finished. Her family grounds her to her room for the rest of her life. They forbid her to attend church. Her friends desert her. She is bullied at school. With the press of a button, her entire life is gone—she is forever defined by that one bad decision. Wait, what does that have to do with this week's Come, Follow Me lesson? Well, everything. Today's post continues the "profile series" I started a few months ago. This time, we delve into the life of Corianton, son of Alma.
Remember who the real enemy is
Last week in Come Follow Me, we read the first part of Alma's mission to the apostates in Ammonihah. It's there that we got to meet the wicked lawyer, Zeezrom. The crafty Zeezrom tries every trick in the book to misrepresent Gospel teachings and trip up Alma's junior companion, Amulek. He even tried to bribe Amulek with (according to my math) about a month and a half's worth of a judge's wages-- not a small sum of money-- if he would just deny his words.
Fun movie. Serious spiritual lessons.
On Friday night, my wife and I were able to get out of the house and go on a date. And despite being really tired, we didn't just grab a bite to eat and come home to crash this time. It was a real date. Dinner and a movie. It was wonderful. When my wife and I got home, it was pretty late, and we were back to feeling tired. One of those nights where you really don't want to haul yourself out of bed and study your scriptures. But I did. And as I studied, I came across this counsel from the prophet Jacob:
These are our days
I wrote about the prophet-missionary Nephi in my last two posts about unwearyingness and personal revelation. This week I want to continue to take his awesome story and highlight another important lesson for our lives. Having just returned from his mission to find his people incredibly wicked, he was understandably upset. Kneeling on his garden tower, he poured out his anguish to God:
Marvel, and Marvel Not
We should marvel. But it has to be the right kind of marveling
It had an end
Today is Mother's Day. But instead of talking about the stripling warriors, Abish, or Sariah today, I want to talk about a few words I found in Helaman 1. This year, my wife, my sweetheart, and the mother of my son is spending Mother's Day out of the country on a dream trip across Europe with her sister and some extended family members. She is having a great time, and loving the enchanting sights and sounds of the countries she is visiting.