I've been lax over the past few months at posting new things here, and I never really did get started in the first place, did I?
Well, I hope to rectify that. I think the best place to start would be with the Mormon Articles of Faith. I will try to write a short essay on each, and give some thought to what they mean to us and how they relate to other Christian faiths.
Article of Faith One:
We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost.
When people tell you that Mormon's "aren't Christians," which they will (I've heard it numerous times over the past year), simply point them to the very first Article of Faith.
We do, indeed believe in Christ, we believe in His Heavenly Father, and we believe in the Holy Spirit. Our conception of these figures may be slightly different, but they are the same that are worshipped by hundreds of millions around the world.
The biggest departure is that we don't believe in the concept of the Trinity in what has become the traditional sense. In the LDS Church, it is known as the Godhead. Most denominations look at the Trinity as the Father, Son and Holy Spirit being three different aspects of one being. Mormons tend to view them as separate beings all working together in perfect unity of purpose to achieve a specific end.
I tend to look at the Godhead as being the ultimate family, working together with no dissension, no opposition, just perfect love and harmony for and from each member, and for us, in order to bring us all into God's Celestial Kingdom.
The differences between the Godhead and the Trinity are, to my mind, minor quibbles that have torn people apart for centuries. Even in the first few centuries following the Resurrection of Christ, there was dissension to the point that church leaders gathered together to discuss the issue.
What is TRULY important is that we understand that there ARE Father, Son and Holy Ghost, regardless of our conception of the relationship between them and that Jesus Christ, the Son, is the Redeemer and Savior of mankind, and that only through our faith in His Atoning Sacrifice, may we be brought once again into the presence of our Father in Heaven, who loves us and desires fully and completely that we return to Him.
In that, Mormons are absolutely no different from any other Christian, and anyone who tells you differently in either ignorant of our doctrine or deliberately misleading.
And I leave you with these thoughts in the Name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Friday, November 28, 2014
A Conversion Story
I never intended to become a Mormon. It sounds crazy to say that it "just kind of happened," but it's true.
My conversion story starts many years ago. Even though I didn't become acquainted with the Church until just over a year ago, as I wrote here, the preparatory work was being done far in advance. It's not a nice story, and there are things that I did that I now regret, but that are integral to whee I ended up.
All through my public school years, I really didn't have to work all that hard. Most of what was necessary came easy to me, and the rest, well, I guess it just wasn't that necessary. I spent the last six years of my childhood in Scouting, which I enjoyed and in which I had a lot of great experiences.
What time I didn't spend with Scouts I mostly spent with the high school choir and performing arts department. This is the most important time of my youth: It set the stage for so much of what came later, as I continued with choir and theater into college, leaving me no time to continue with Scouts. It was in the spring of my freshman year at Marietta College that I met the woman with whom I had my first child.
I had been pretty much a loser with "romance" up to this point (and beyond). I had had a few dates, but no serious girlfriend, and I fell kind of hard, though, frankly, she didn't. We became friends and more or less inseparable for a few years. Everybody thought we were a couple, but, despite my fervent desires, we were not.
Anyway, I took a year off between my sophomore and junior years and that was when I met the woman I ended up marrying, getting quickly engaged. I had sworn to myself that I would never be one of those guys that treated his girlfriend like dirt, but I failed to keep that promise. My friend, who had never shown any real romantic interest before, was now all about trying to win me over. I was torn and conflicted and absolutely loving having two women fighting for me.
I behaved poorly. I ended up cheating on the woman I was engaged to, something I had sworn I would never do. In the end, we broke up, but continued seeing each other off and on. My former friend, now girlfriend got pregnant and we ended up moving in together.
Which lasted about two months. We were great friends, but a horrible couple. I was working at McDonald's, having dropped out after my junior year, and she was finishing up her degree. It seemed that every chance we had to argue, we did. So, I was 23, a college dropout, in a disastrous relationship, expecting a child and living in a town where McDonald's was about the best job I legitimately had a shot at. No future.
One day in April, we had a huge fight and that lack of a future hit me square between the eyes. I knew I had to do something, and though I had considered enlisting in the Army a few times over the years, by the end of the day I was in a Navy recruiters office and by the end of the week I was enlisted. It was a spur of the moment thing, not something I had planned by any means. I ended up enlisting as a Hospital Corpsman, which is a group that does everything from field medic for the Marines to EMT to nursing and all sorts of medical technician positions.It was six moths before I could ship out, though. But I knew that it would be the end of my relationship.
I look back at the way I acted and the way I treated the women in my life at that time, and I am ashamed. What I did wasn't good for me: I didn't live up to the values I had learned and should have adopted as my own. I treated people poorly. In words I have learned since, I would term my relationships and behavior as Not Pleasing to God.
When my now ex moved out, I got a new roommate: alcohol. I had been something of a binge drinker before, but now I started drinking on a daily basis, a habit that would continue for nearly a decade and a half. I didn't speak with my ex for months, only once or twice before she gave birth to our son. I got to hold him the day after he was born, and once more before I shipped out for the Navy.
Just before I left, I found out that I had not been acknowledged in the birth certificate as the father of my son. It was important to me that I take responsibility and do as much as I could to support him. I ended up having to sue for paternity, with the full knowledge that I would then be legally obligated to pay support. She told me that if I did, she would take me for every penny she could get. I did it anyway.
Boot camp was tough in the winter. I found out about halfway through that I had a court date in Marietta the Wednesday after graduation, which sort of motivated me to work as hard as possible to actually graduate on time. Soon after I found out about the court date, I found out that my Corps school schedule had been altered and I wasn't going to spend three months wintry months on the north side of Chicago, but in San Diego instead.
After I graduated, I made my court date and got things moving. At the time, they did paternity tests on blood, not cheek swabs, and they waited six months after birth to perform the tests. I suppose I could have backed out at any time up to that point and she would have let me go, but I didn't believe it was the right thing to do. They took the blood in April, and within a week or two, we got to choose our next assignment. I got exactly what I wanted, which was lab school and another year in San Diego.
I know this seems like it has nothing to do with the topic, but I'll get there. You'll see.
I spent my four years in the Navy. I was not perfect. A lot of times I wasn't even good. My drinking got heavier and heavier. It was hard to see my son, being across the country, and with the adversarial relationship with his mother, there was a lot of tension. While I was in the Navy, she had gotten married and had a daughter and a life into which my attempts at visitation simply weren't welcome. Eventually, she asked me to let his stepfather adopt him. It was the hardest decision I had ever made, but I had to agree: It was best for him.
Within two weeks, I had my first conversation with the mother who had given me up for adoption as an infant. She's a good woman who made a hard decision at a stressful time and I thank and praise her for it.
After giving up my son, I felt guilty. Even when we do the right thing, sometimes our doubts and fears can eat at us until we are consumed. I fell deeper and deeper into depression and further and further into the bottle.
There's a quality to alcoholics that I find darkly amusing: They say that you have to hit "bottom" before you can really make a true recovery, and when you get a bunch of us together and talking about our addictions, we all want our "bottom" to be deeper and darker than any other.
I hit bottom during the summer of 2005. I would say I was drinking on a daily basis, but it was more frequent than that. We had had our daughter in September of 2003. I was sober for that only because the buzz wore off before she was born. Over the next two years, I tried to drink after I put her to bed for the night, then I started drinking before, figuring the effects wouldn't hit until after she was asleep.
I'm not proud of my actions, but neither will I shrink from admitting them.
I started taking lots of unplanned one-day vacations from work, trying to use days when there were enough people working that my absence would cause less difficulty. I was drinking two liters of vodka every three days. Not the 42 proof grocery store stuff, but the 110 proof stuff that they sell from the bottom shelf. It tasted like paint thinner, but it was cheap (relatively) and got the job done. I estimated I was spending between 200 and 250 dollars a month on alcohol alone.
I n the late summer of 2005, I was drunk, as usual, when I found an Al-Anon pamphlet on a table in the living room. It was a wake up call: My wife thought I was a lost cause, enough that SHE needed support to deal with MY drinking. From what I hear, she and my mom and our friend Sally had tried to have an intervention, and I had gotten hostile and yelled. I don't remember that. I was drunk at the time.
In Late September of 2005, I got up the courage and went to an AA meeting in Kent, hungover, (but still buzzing somewhat: I was NEVER truly sober in those years) and not really sure I needed to be there. We have a saying that what happens at the meetings STAYS at the meetings, so I won't go into detail, but I do feel free to say that I was amazed at how diverse the people there were: People from all walks of life, rich, poor, successful, unsuccessful, in all stages of recovery from denial to many years sober. There were a few that I knew and respected from the outside world, which was a shock to me, but a comfort as well: If they could have problems and seek help, then I needn't be ashamed.
I went to three meetings and on the 16th of October, I finished the last of my last bottle of vodka. I felt like I was losing my best friend. I couldn't picture a day without it. But, after one day, I figured if I'd made it through one, I could make it through one more. And then it was two, and if I made it through two, I could make it through two more. And then it was four, and so on. I continued to go to meetings for several months, but I was done. I won't say it was easy: When I was detoxing, I shook SO hard, and I still have a tremor as a reminder of the damage I did. I was sick hard for a week.
But, eventually the desire to drink went away. And it's never come back.
And the most amazing thing is: Within two weeks after I drank the last drop of my last bottle of vodka, my wife was pregnant with my son.
So, we're nearly back to the point in time at which I had my stroke. It was late - three in the morning on December 29, 2009. I went to play video games and suddenly felt as though the back of my head had been hit with an aluminum baseball bat. That's a story in and of itself, for another time and place. When I woke up three weeks later, I had very little memory of anything other than a great deal of pain, and what I have come to believe is my vision, my time in Paradise with my earthly father.
Most of the rest of the story is written in my prior post, but what I didn't say then is this: As I began attending Sacrament meetings regularly, The Holy Spirit began do speak to me. I heard the Voice of God, loud and clear. He pointed to each of these low points recounted in this essay, where I had made a tough decision to sacrifice something that meant a great deal to me, from my alcohol, which was truly valueless, to my son (figuratively), whose value is infinite, and He showed me that it was at His prompting that I made those difficult, but ultimately correct choices, and that for my obedience, I was rewarded in short order with something else of great value.
I realized that, through obedience to Him, my life can become richer and more rewarding. The rewards are not always instantaneous. They can be delayed by days, weeks, months or even years. We may not even realize them in this lifetime, but He WILL provide them to us, IF we listen to Him.
It's not easy to be obedient: Being human means we will fail and fail again. But we MUST keep trying, keep striving toward the perfection that He asks of us, that we might receive the gifts that He truly wants to give to us.
Amazingly, many converts have stories almost identical to mine, and we share almost nothing else in common but the knowledge that God has chosen to speak to us and to invite us into membership in His True Church. Most of us feel that we are not converting to the church, but are in fact returning home.
Which, in truth, we are.
And I write these things to you in the Holy and Sacred Name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
My conversion story starts many years ago. Even though I didn't become acquainted with the Church until just over a year ago, as I wrote here, the preparatory work was being done far in advance. It's not a nice story, and there are things that I did that I now regret, but that are integral to whee I ended up.
All through my public school years, I really didn't have to work all that hard. Most of what was necessary came easy to me, and the rest, well, I guess it just wasn't that necessary. I spent the last six years of my childhood in Scouting, which I enjoyed and in which I had a lot of great experiences.
What time I didn't spend with Scouts I mostly spent with the high school choir and performing arts department. This is the most important time of my youth: It set the stage for so much of what came later, as I continued with choir and theater into college, leaving me no time to continue with Scouts. It was in the spring of my freshman year at Marietta College that I met the woman with whom I had my first child.
I had been pretty much a loser with "romance" up to this point (and beyond). I had had a few dates, but no serious girlfriend, and I fell kind of hard, though, frankly, she didn't. We became friends and more or less inseparable for a few years. Everybody thought we were a couple, but, despite my fervent desires, we were not.
Anyway, I took a year off between my sophomore and junior years and that was when I met the woman I ended up marrying, getting quickly engaged. I had sworn to myself that I would never be one of those guys that treated his girlfriend like dirt, but I failed to keep that promise. My friend, who had never shown any real romantic interest before, was now all about trying to win me over. I was torn and conflicted and absolutely loving having two women fighting for me.
I behaved poorly. I ended up cheating on the woman I was engaged to, something I had sworn I would never do. In the end, we broke up, but continued seeing each other off and on. My former friend, now girlfriend got pregnant and we ended up moving in together.
Which lasted about two months. We were great friends, but a horrible couple. I was working at McDonald's, having dropped out after my junior year, and she was finishing up her degree. It seemed that every chance we had to argue, we did. So, I was 23, a college dropout, in a disastrous relationship, expecting a child and living in a town where McDonald's was about the best job I legitimately had a shot at. No future.
One day in April, we had a huge fight and that lack of a future hit me square between the eyes. I knew I had to do something, and though I had considered enlisting in the Army a few times over the years, by the end of the day I was in a Navy recruiters office and by the end of the week I was enlisted. It was a spur of the moment thing, not something I had planned by any means. I ended up enlisting as a Hospital Corpsman, which is a group that does everything from field medic for the Marines to EMT to nursing and all sorts of medical technician positions.It was six moths before I could ship out, though. But I knew that it would be the end of my relationship.
I look back at the way I acted and the way I treated the women in my life at that time, and I am ashamed. What I did wasn't good for me: I didn't live up to the values I had learned and should have adopted as my own. I treated people poorly. In words I have learned since, I would term my relationships and behavior as Not Pleasing to God.
When my now ex moved out, I got a new roommate: alcohol. I had been something of a binge drinker before, but now I started drinking on a daily basis, a habit that would continue for nearly a decade and a half. I didn't speak with my ex for months, only once or twice before she gave birth to our son. I got to hold him the day after he was born, and once more before I shipped out for the Navy.
Just before I left, I found out that I had not been acknowledged in the birth certificate as the father of my son. It was important to me that I take responsibility and do as much as I could to support him. I ended up having to sue for paternity, with the full knowledge that I would then be legally obligated to pay support. She told me that if I did, she would take me for every penny she could get. I did it anyway.
Boot camp was tough in the winter. I found out about halfway through that I had a court date in Marietta the Wednesday after graduation, which sort of motivated me to work as hard as possible to actually graduate on time. Soon after I found out about the court date, I found out that my Corps school schedule had been altered and I wasn't going to spend three months wintry months on the north side of Chicago, but in San Diego instead.
After I graduated, I made my court date and got things moving. At the time, they did paternity tests on blood, not cheek swabs, and they waited six months after birth to perform the tests. I suppose I could have backed out at any time up to that point and she would have let me go, but I didn't believe it was the right thing to do. They took the blood in April, and within a week or two, we got to choose our next assignment. I got exactly what I wanted, which was lab school and another year in San Diego.
I know this seems like it has nothing to do with the topic, but I'll get there. You'll see.
I spent my four years in the Navy. I was not perfect. A lot of times I wasn't even good. My drinking got heavier and heavier. It was hard to see my son, being across the country, and with the adversarial relationship with his mother, there was a lot of tension. While I was in the Navy, she had gotten married and had a daughter and a life into which my attempts at visitation simply weren't welcome. Eventually, she asked me to let his stepfather adopt him. It was the hardest decision I had ever made, but I had to agree: It was best for him.
Within two weeks, I had my first conversation with the mother who had given me up for adoption as an infant. She's a good woman who made a hard decision at a stressful time and I thank and praise her for it.
After giving up my son, I felt guilty. Even when we do the right thing, sometimes our doubts and fears can eat at us until we are consumed. I fell deeper and deeper into depression and further and further into the bottle.
There's a quality to alcoholics that I find darkly amusing: They say that you have to hit "bottom" before you can really make a true recovery, and when you get a bunch of us together and talking about our addictions, we all want our "bottom" to be deeper and darker than any other.
I hit bottom during the summer of 2005. I would say I was drinking on a daily basis, but it was more frequent than that. We had had our daughter in September of 2003. I was sober for that only because the buzz wore off before she was born. Over the next two years, I tried to drink after I put her to bed for the night, then I started drinking before, figuring the effects wouldn't hit until after she was asleep.
I'm not proud of my actions, but neither will I shrink from admitting them.
I started taking lots of unplanned one-day vacations from work, trying to use days when there were enough people working that my absence would cause less difficulty. I was drinking two liters of vodka every three days. Not the 42 proof grocery store stuff, but the 110 proof stuff that they sell from the bottom shelf. It tasted like paint thinner, but it was cheap (relatively) and got the job done. I estimated I was spending between 200 and 250 dollars a month on alcohol alone.
I n the late summer of 2005, I was drunk, as usual, when I found an Al-Anon pamphlet on a table in the living room. It was a wake up call: My wife thought I was a lost cause, enough that SHE needed support to deal with MY drinking. From what I hear, she and my mom and our friend Sally had tried to have an intervention, and I had gotten hostile and yelled. I don't remember that. I was drunk at the time.
In Late September of 2005, I got up the courage and went to an AA meeting in Kent, hungover, (but still buzzing somewhat: I was NEVER truly sober in those years) and not really sure I needed to be there. We have a saying that what happens at the meetings STAYS at the meetings, so I won't go into detail, but I do feel free to say that I was amazed at how diverse the people there were: People from all walks of life, rich, poor, successful, unsuccessful, in all stages of recovery from denial to many years sober. There were a few that I knew and respected from the outside world, which was a shock to me, but a comfort as well: If they could have problems and seek help, then I needn't be ashamed.
I went to three meetings and on the 16th of October, I finished the last of my last bottle of vodka. I felt like I was losing my best friend. I couldn't picture a day without it. But, after one day, I figured if I'd made it through one, I could make it through one more. And then it was two, and if I made it through two, I could make it through two more. And then it was four, and so on. I continued to go to meetings for several months, but I was done. I won't say it was easy: When I was detoxing, I shook SO hard, and I still have a tremor as a reminder of the damage I did. I was sick hard for a week.
But, eventually the desire to drink went away. And it's never come back.
And the most amazing thing is: Within two weeks after I drank the last drop of my last bottle of vodka, my wife was pregnant with my son.
So, we're nearly back to the point in time at which I had my stroke. It was late - three in the morning on December 29, 2009. I went to play video games and suddenly felt as though the back of my head had been hit with an aluminum baseball bat. That's a story in and of itself, for another time and place. When I woke up three weeks later, I had very little memory of anything other than a great deal of pain, and what I have come to believe is my vision, my time in Paradise with my earthly father.
Most of the rest of the story is written in my prior post, but what I didn't say then is this: As I began attending Sacrament meetings regularly, The Holy Spirit began do speak to me. I heard the Voice of God, loud and clear. He pointed to each of these low points recounted in this essay, where I had made a tough decision to sacrifice something that meant a great deal to me, from my alcohol, which was truly valueless, to my son (figuratively), whose value is infinite, and He showed me that it was at His prompting that I made those difficult, but ultimately correct choices, and that for my obedience, I was rewarded in short order with something else of great value.
I realized that, through obedience to Him, my life can become richer and more rewarding. The rewards are not always instantaneous. They can be delayed by days, weeks, months or even years. We may not even realize them in this lifetime, but He WILL provide them to us, IF we listen to Him.
It's not easy to be obedient: Being human means we will fail and fail again. But we MUST keep trying, keep striving toward the perfection that He asks of us, that we might receive the gifts that He truly wants to give to us.
Amazingly, many converts have stories almost identical to mine, and we share almost nothing else in common but the knowledge that God has chosen to speak to us and to invite us into membership in His True Church. Most of us feel that we are not converting to the church, but are in fact returning home.
Which, in truth, we are.
And I write these things to you in the Holy and Sacred Name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
Friday, April 18, 2014
The Cursing of the Fig Tree
Now, I know that this weekend everybody is going to be talking about the Crucifixion, the Resurrection, the Atonement, but I thought I would talk about a much lesser known incident from that week that really doesn't get talked about all that much. In fact, I don't recall hearing about it until I actually sat down and read the Gospels myself, and then I was a little confused by it. I thought I might introduce it here, describe it briefly, introduce a couple explanations I think are...inelegant, if you will, then supply what I feel to be the most logical and satisfying reasoning.
There is, in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, an incident that really confused me, because it seemed out of place: While in Jerusalem during his last week, Christ is looking for some food when he comes upon a fig tree which has no fruit. He then proceeds to curse the fig tree and in short order, it withers and dies.
Now I don't know much about fig trees, but it seemed to me that this was a rather petulant response to not getting fed, especially since the tree was apparently out of season at the time. It didn't seem very Christ-like. So I proceeded to do a little research.
I found a number of things about fig trees, a number of rather unsatisfying answers, and one that feels just right.
Let's start with the fig trees. Apparently, fig trees put out little edible "pre-fruit" when the tree is in leaf, which this tree was. In addition, there is often edible fruit left hanging on the tree from the prior season, especially since figs are generally eaten dried, like raisins, only better. This tree had leaves, but no pre-fruit, nor did it have any of the last year's fruit still hanging. This indicates the tree was barren, giving no fruit the prior season, nor the season to come.
Now, I know that trees are pretty, and they give shade, and they release oxygen into the air, but in the context of this story, this particular tree was useless, unnecessary, except for the larger point for which Christ was going to use it.
The first of the unsatisfying answers has to do with the tree being a a warning to the Nation of Israel. You can find many of these online, most of which have to do with the warnings that Christ gave to the Pharisees earlier in His ministry. The idea is that since Israel had failed to follow Him, it was doomed to wither and die. The problem with this is that there is nothing in the syurrounding text that would support this as the reason He had in mind at the time. It's inelegant and unsatisfying.
The second answer that I found unsatisfying is that this was a warning to the Apostles that THEY should be fruitful or face His wrath. I think this one doesn't hold up under any sort of smell test. It just doesn't FEEL right, does it? Christ threatening the Apostles to bear fruit or He'd wither them? At this point, it seems that, even if they weren't sure of the details, the Apostles were pretty set as far as what they would be doing and how they would be doing it. In addition, they did what they did out of love for Christ, not because they had been threatened to or else.
Like I said, not very satisfying.
In the end, the real answer came, once again, almost as a throwaway in Talmadge's Jesus the Christ. He really didn't spend a whole lot of time on it, but a little reflection and prayer will allow one to see how monumental this Truth really is.
Throughout all the Gospels, in His earthly ministry, Christ performed many miracles, each and every one BUT ONE an act of healing or other benefit, such as turning water to wine. The Cursing of the Fig Tree is the one miracle that had a negative outcome for the subject it was performed on. Why?
We see numerous occasions of Christ laying on hands to heal the sick, the crippled, the blind, the lame. There is more than one occasion on which He raised the dead, the most notable being His friend Lazarus, who was restored to life after three days in the grave.
On this one occasion, Christ showed that He not only held the power to bestow good health and life in His hands, but the power to destroy and cause death.
Why is this important? Because in the context of the story of His life, this comes right at the end. almost immediately prior to all the bad stuff. Everything that comes after: The Betrayal, The Trials, The Scourging, The Humiliation, The Crucifixion, all of it could have been stopped by Him at any point. He could have looked at Herod: DEAD. Pilate: DEAD, the Pharisees: DEAD, Judas Iscariot: DEAD. Yet he chose to allow them to do what they did to Him. Nothing that was done to Him was done without His consent. It doesn't make the actions of those involved any less terrible, but He allowed to happen that which had to happen, in order to further the plan of His Heavenly Father.
So, this weekend, as you consider the events of nearly 2000 years ago, reflect on the fact that the Man who suffered and died for your sins could have stopped the proceedings at any time. This was not a stone set in motion, rolling downhill, picking up speed to become unstoppable: It was a preplanned, preordained, foretold occurrence that could nonetheless have been stopped at any moment by the Subject at the center of the storm.
Why did He do it? To pay the ransom for the sins of all those who would believe in Him. It is humbling to believe that He cares enough about me to do that. Do you believe you are worthy of His sacrifice? In all honesty, I don't understand how I could be, but He believes I am, and that is all that matters.
There is, in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, an incident that really confused me, because it seemed out of place: While in Jerusalem during his last week, Christ is looking for some food when he comes upon a fig tree which has no fruit. He then proceeds to curse the fig tree and in short order, it withers and dies.
Now I don't know much about fig trees, but it seemed to me that this was a rather petulant response to not getting fed, especially since the tree was apparently out of season at the time. It didn't seem very Christ-like. So I proceeded to do a little research.
I found a number of things about fig trees, a number of rather unsatisfying answers, and one that feels just right.
Let's start with the fig trees. Apparently, fig trees put out little edible "pre-fruit" when the tree is in leaf, which this tree was. In addition, there is often edible fruit left hanging on the tree from the prior season, especially since figs are generally eaten dried, like raisins, only better. This tree had leaves, but no pre-fruit, nor did it have any of the last year's fruit still hanging. This indicates the tree was barren, giving no fruit the prior season, nor the season to come.
Now, I know that trees are pretty, and they give shade, and they release oxygen into the air, but in the context of this story, this particular tree was useless, unnecessary, except for the larger point for which Christ was going to use it.
The first of the unsatisfying answers has to do with the tree being a a warning to the Nation of Israel. You can find many of these online, most of which have to do with the warnings that Christ gave to the Pharisees earlier in His ministry. The idea is that since Israel had failed to follow Him, it was doomed to wither and die. The problem with this is that there is nothing in the syurrounding text that would support this as the reason He had in mind at the time. It's inelegant and unsatisfying.
The second answer that I found unsatisfying is that this was a warning to the Apostles that THEY should be fruitful or face His wrath. I think this one doesn't hold up under any sort of smell test. It just doesn't FEEL right, does it? Christ threatening the Apostles to bear fruit or He'd wither them? At this point, it seems that, even if they weren't sure of the details, the Apostles were pretty set as far as what they would be doing and how they would be doing it. In addition, they did what they did out of love for Christ, not because they had been threatened to or else.
Like I said, not very satisfying.
In the end, the real answer came, once again, almost as a throwaway in Talmadge's Jesus the Christ. He really didn't spend a whole lot of time on it, but a little reflection and prayer will allow one to see how monumental this Truth really is.
Throughout all the Gospels, in His earthly ministry, Christ performed many miracles, each and every one BUT ONE an act of healing or other benefit, such as turning water to wine. The Cursing of the Fig Tree is the one miracle that had a negative outcome for the subject it was performed on. Why?
We see numerous occasions of Christ laying on hands to heal the sick, the crippled, the blind, the lame. There is more than one occasion on which He raised the dead, the most notable being His friend Lazarus, who was restored to life after three days in the grave.
On this one occasion, Christ showed that He not only held the power to bestow good health and life in His hands, but the power to destroy and cause death.
Why is this important? Because in the context of the story of His life, this comes right at the end. almost immediately prior to all the bad stuff. Everything that comes after: The Betrayal, The Trials, The Scourging, The Humiliation, The Crucifixion, all of it could have been stopped by Him at any point. He could have looked at Herod: DEAD. Pilate: DEAD, the Pharisees: DEAD, Judas Iscariot: DEAD. Yet he chose to allow them to do what they did to Him. Nothing that was done to Him was done without His consent. It doesn't make the actions of those involved any less terrible, but He allowed to happen that which had to happen, in order to further the plan of His Heavenly Father.
So, this weekend, as you consider the events of nearly 2000 years ago, reflect on the fact that the Man who suffered and died for your sins could have stopped the proceedings at any time. This was not a stone set in motion, rolling downhill, picking up speed to become unstoppable: It was a preplanned, preordained, foretold occurrence that could nonetheless have been stopped at any moment by the Subject at the center of the storm.
Why did He do it? To pay the ransom for the sins of all those who would believe in Him. It is humbling to believe that He cares enough about me to do that. Do you believe you are worthy of His sacrifice? In all honesty, I don't understand how I could be, but He believes I am, and that is all that matters.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Faith
Not all that long ago, I considered myself to be someone whose "Faith circuit" was "broken." I knew all the words, I understood the concepts, I even sort of believed them to be true, but I couldn't FEEL that truth. I could see people all around me who had that assurance with them, that knowledge that something they couldn't prove was nonetheless true. I didn't understand how to get from where I was to where they were. But I wanted to get there.
Then, last Easter, I was at a Catholic Mass with my family, and I actually had a little epiphany during the homily, which is not something that had really ever happened before. I don't recall the point that was being made, but I do recall the point that I received. The topic was the Resurrection, when the women went to the tomb of Christ to anoint His body.
It struck me like a bolt of lightning: THEY WERE THERE TO ANOINT HIS BODY! The women who had followed him for years and who were as close as almost anyone EXPECTED TO FIND HIM DEAD!
A little more research shows that the Apostles themselves were stunned to find the body gone. They had traveled with Him, learned from Him, were expected to carry His church to the people. He had TOLD them that He would rise from the dead. But they didn't comprehend and had trouble believing it even when it happened. They didn't have faith in His words, those who had been closest to Him.
I wasn't broken, I was NORMAL!
So, about that time, I started studying the Book of Mormon. I was a bit incredulous to the idea that God could perform miracle after miracle for the family of Lehi, and then his descendants, and a short time later, they were back to their old, sinful ways. It seemed that the turn-around time between sinful to saintly to sinful was WAY too short. On their ocean voyage alone, it seemed they rebelled against God about a hundred times. How could He save them again and again, and yet they turn their backs on Him every time?
It cast a doubt over the whole Book of Mormon for me.
Then I read the Bible. Ever read it? It's jammed full of stories of people who have seen miracles and yet can't seem to stay faithful. Don't believe it? Let's start with Adam and Eve: They walked and talked with God in the Garden, and yet still managed to disobey and eat the forbidden fruit. (And that's actually a good thing, but that's a topic for another day).
Within just a few generations, the people of the world turned to idolatry and sin. The Book of Genesis is packed with this. Then we get to Moses and the Hebrews in Egypt. The people saw the works of God employed to free them from 400 years of slavery, saw the Angel of Death Pass Over their houses on the way to kill the firstborn of Egypt, followed a COLUMN OF FIRE through the desert, saw the Red Sea parted, ate Manna from Heaven...Need I go on? So, Moses goes up onto the mountain and within a few days, they're all, "You know what could really help us now? A golden calf to worship!"
Seriously?
All through the historical books of the Bible, the Kings of Israel and Judea fall far from perfection. They are told what to do and how they should do it, and yet, despite being Chosen of God, they fail and fail again. These are people who should have known better, who witnessed miracles, who spoke to God Himself, in ways that have been mostly lost to us. What possible chance do we have? If they couldn't keep faith, how could it possibly be expected of us?
Then we get to the New Testament.
The New Testament is all about faith and finding our way back to our Heavenly Father. There is an analogy used numerous times throughout the Gospels of having "Faith as a mustard seed." The mustard seed, apparently, though quite small, produces a tree that is quite out of proportion when considering the size of other seeds to the respective trees they produce. The generally accepted interpretations of this analogy are that 1). If you start with a little faith, it will grow larger, and 2). That even a little faith will allow you to move mountains.
I think this there's a somewhat deeper interpretation as well.
Let me first note that faith is often referred to as a "Gift from God," which seems a little odd. In order to believe in God, I first have to receive a gift from Him? One sort of presupposes the other, doesn't it? I mean, if you don't believe in God, then how are you going to believe a gift is from Him?
I think we could combine these two concepts and expand them into a larger analogy, say a garden, or gardening, anyway. We, as Mormons, believe the Law of Christ is written on the hearts of men. This is the little voice, the conscience that we all hear that tells us when we're transgressing. It's also that need that pretty much everybody feels to find some larger meaning, to have, as the song says, "Something to Believe In."
This is the Mustard Seed, and it is a gift from God, whether we choose to accept that or not. But it's not the only gift.
With that seed comes a contract from our Heavenly Father: If you plant that seed, he will cause it to sprout and grow. In return, we need to feed the plant that springs from it, actively care for it and nurture it. As we tend to our seedling, he will cause it to grow into a tree that will bear fruit that will not only sustain us, but help to nourish those around us. But we need to take care of that seed, lest it wilt or be taken by weeds.
How do we plant the seed? It's really simple: We pray. We ask Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, to give us faith, to show us His mercy and love. And He will. It is His promise to us.
There is a story in the one of the Gospels, where a man asks Jesus to heal his son, and Jesus says that all he has to do is BELIEVE. The man says, "I believe, Lord. Help me with my unbelief." This sounds like he's contradicting himself, but it's really pretty simple: He had planted that seed, and was asking for growth. He was saying that he, essentially, believed that Jesus was who He said He was, but that he needed assistance to allow that seedling to take root and grow.
I know from experience how hard it is to pray to a God you're not really sure you believe in. I spent better than forty years being one step up from an agnostic. I believed in a Creator, intelligent design, call it what you will, (the idea of a universe springing into existence by happenstance was and is too far-fetched for me to take seriously) but the idea of a Father in Heaven who cared for me personally and listened to my words was just not something I could accept as true.
I had prayed a number of times before, in a way. I had memorized a bunch of prayers from growing up Catholic, and who hasn't asked for help in some tight spot or another? But the idea of an actual conversation taking place between God and myself was just asking too much. But then, last year, I started receiving responses. And not just vague impressions days later: I would pray for enlightenment on a particular passage in Scripture, and the answer would come to me almost immediately. And when I would ask others about that response, it turned out they were getting the same answers, as well.
I opened my mind little by little to the possibilities and knowledge and information started flooding in. And the more I learned, the more I read and studied, which is the tending of that little seedling of faith. We read Scriptures and study the teachings of those who have gone before us in order to water that sprout and make it grow strong. The combination of reading and praying allows us to grow our tree tall and fruitful, with deep roots.
But just because we have faith doesn't mean we won't falter at times. Life is hard, even with faith. And we see through Scriptures that the faith of some of the wisest and most favored of God has failed time and again. We learn through the Parable of the Prodigal Son that God KNOWS that we will waver and fall, but that if we come back to him in a spirit of true repentance, with honest intention to make amends, He will welcome us back with honor and grace. We also learn from the faithful older brother that we should welcome our fallen brothers and sisters back in the same manner.
And here is a promise that I feel absolutely confident in making: Find a Mormon meetinghouse, attend a Sacrament meeting. The people there WILL welcome as a lost brother or sister. Talk with them, talk with the missionaries. It will be a rewarding and enlightening experience, if you open your heart to it.
Here's a mind-blowing thought: When the father in the parable speaks of his son returning from the dead, he's speaking in hyperbole. But when the symbolism is stripped away and the example is applied to the reality of Heavenly Father, it is the literal Truth.
So, we can see that faith isn't just something that you either have or don't, or even something that is constant in our lives. Everybody, even those who grow up in the church, even those who are in the highest positions of leadership, that everybody else looks to for guidance, ALL of them have moments of doubt. Bu we persevere and with the aid and comfort of the Holy Ghost, we come out on the other side stronger and wiser.
If you feel like you're lacking something, if your life needs meaning, if you want to know WHY, you're not alone. But there's a way out, a way to gain insight and knowledge, a way to find purpose.
All you have to do is ask.
Then, last Easter, I was at a Catholic Mass with my family, and I actually had a little epiphany during the homily, which is not something that had really ever happened before. I don't recall the point that was being made, but I do recall the point that I received. The topic was the Resurrection, when the women went to the tomb of Christ to anoint His body.
It struck me like a bolt of lightning: THEY WERE THERE TO ANOINT HIS BODY! The women who had followed him for years and who were as close as almost anyone EXPECTED TO FIND HIM DEAD!
A little more research shows that the Apostles themselves were stunned to find the body gone. They had traveled with Him, learned from Him, were expected to carry His church to the people. He had TOLD them that He would rise from the dead. But they didn't comprehend and had trouble believing it even when it happened. They didn't have faith in His words, those who had been closest to Him.
I wasn't broken, I was NORMAL!
So, about that time, I started studying the Book of Mormon. I was a bit incredulous to the idea that God could perform miracle after miracle for the family of Lehi, and then his descendants, and a short time later, they were back to their old, sinful ways. It seemed that the turn-around time between sinful to saintly to sinful was WAY too short. On their ocean voyage alone, it seemed they rebelled against God about a hundred times. How could He save them again and again, and yet they turn their backs on Him every time?
It cast a doubt over the whole Book of Mormon for me.
Then I read the Bible. Ever read it? It's jammed full of stories of people who have seen miracles and yet can't seem to stay faithful. Don't believe it? Let's start with Adam and Eve: They walked and talked with God in the Garden, and yet still managed to disobey and eat the forbidden fruit. (And that's actually a good thing, but that's a topic for another day).
Within just a few generations, the people of the world turned to idolatry and sin. The Book of Genesis is packed with this. Then we get to Moses and the Hebrews in Egypt. The people saw the works of God employed to free them from 400 years of slavery, saw the Angel of Death Pass Over their houses on the way to kill the firstborn of Egypt, followed a COLUMN OF FIRE through the desert, saw the Red Sea parted, ate Manna from Heaven...Need I go on? So, Moses goes up onto the mountain and within a few days, they're all, "You know what could really help us now? A golden calf to worship!"
Seriously?
All through the historical books of the Bible, the Kings of Israel and Judea fall far from perfection. They are told what to do and how they should do it, and yet, despite being Chosen of God, they fail and fail again. These are people who should have known better, who witnessed miracles, who spoke to God Himself, in ways that have been mostly lost to us. What possible chance do we have? If they couldn't keep faith, how could it possibly be expected of us?
Then we get to the New Testament.
The New Testament is all about faith and finding our way back to our Heavenly Father. There is an analogy used numerous times throughout the Gospels of having "Faith as a mustard seed." The mustard seed, apparently, though quite small, produces a tree that is quite out of proportion when considering the size of other seeds to the respective trees they produce. The generally accepted interpretations of this analogy are that 1). If you start with a little faith, it will grow larger, and 2). That even a little faith will allow you to move mountains.
I think this there's a somewhat deeper interpretation as well.
Let me first note that faith is often referred to as a "Gift from God," which seems a little odd. In order to believe in God, I first have to receive a gift from Him? One sort of presupposes the other, doesn't it? I mean, if you don't believe in God, then how are you going to believe a gift is from Him?
I think we could combine these two concepts and expand them into a larger analogy, say a garden, or gardening, anyway. We, as Mormons, believe the Law of Christ is written on the hearts of men. This is the little voice, the conscience that we all hear that tells us when we're transgressing. It's also that need that pretty much everybody feels to find some larger meaning, to have, as the song says, "Something to Believe In."
This is the Mustard Seed, and it is a gift from God, whether we choose to accept that or not. But it's not the only gift.
With that seed comes a contract from our Heavenly Father: If you plant that seed, he will cause it to sprout and grow. In return, we need to feed the plant that springs from it, actively care for it and nurture it. As we tend to our seedling, he will cause it to grow into a tree that will bear fruit that will not only sustain us, but help to nourish those around us. But we need to take care of that seed, lest it wilt or be taken by weeds.
How do we plant the seed? It's really simple: We pray. We ask Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, to give us faith, to show us His mercy and love. And He will. It is His promise to us.
There is a story in the one of the Gospels, where a man asks Jesus to heal his son, and Jesus says that all he has to do is BELIEVE. The man says, "I believe, Lord. Help me with my unbelief." This sounds like he's contradicting himself, but it's really pretty simple: He had planted that seed, and was asking for growth. He was saying that he, essentially, believed that Jesus was who He said He was, but that he needed assistance to allow that seedling to take root and grow.
I know from experience how hard it is to pray to a God you're not really sure you believe in. I spent better than forty years being one step up from an agnostic. I believed in a Creator, intelligent design, call it what you will, (the idea of a universe springing into existence by happenstance was and is too far-fetched for me to take seriously) but the idea of a Father in Heaven who cared for me personally and listened to my words was just not something I could accept as true.
I had prayed a number of times before, in a way. I had memorized a bunch of prayers from growing up Catholic, and who hasn't asked for help in some tight spot or another? But the idea of an actual conversation taking place between God and myself was just asking too much. But then, last year, I started receiving responses. And not just vague impressions days later: I would pray for enlightenment on a particular passage in Scripture, and the answer would come to me almost immediately. And when I would ask others about that response, it turned out they were getting the same answers, as well.
I opened my mind little by little to the possibilities and knowledge and information started flooding in. And the more I learned, the more I read and studied, which is the tending of that little seedling of faith. We read Scriptures and study the teachings of those who have gone before us in order to water that sprout and make it grow strong. The combination of reading and praying allows us to grow our tree tall and fruitful, with deep roots.
But just because we have faith doesn't mean we won't falter at times. Life is hard, even with faith. And we see through Scriptures that the faith of some of the wisest and most favored of God has failed time and again. We learn through the Parable of the Prodigal Son that God KNOWS that we will waver and fall, but that if we come back to him in a spirit of true repentance, with honest intention to make amends, He will welcome us back with honor and grace. We also learn from the faithful older brother that we should welcome our fallen brothers and sisters back in the same manner.
And here is a promise that I feel absolutely confident in making: Find a Mormon meetinghouse, attend a Sacrament meeting. The people there WILL welcome as a lost brother or sister. Talk with them, talk with the missionaries. It will be a rewarding and enlightening experience, if you open your heart to it.
Here's a mind-blowing thought: When the father in the parable speaks of his son returning from the dead, he's speaking in hyperbole. But when the symbolism is stripped away and the example is applied to the reality of Heavenly Father, it is the literal Truth.
So, we can see that faith isn't just something that you either have or don't, or even something that is constant in our lives. Everybody, even those who grow up in the church, even those who are in the highest positions of leadership, that everybody else looks to for guidance, ALL of them have moments of doubt. Bu we persevere and with the aid and comfort of the Holy Ghost, we come out on the other side stronger and wiser.
If you feel like you're lacking something, if your life needs meaning, if you want to know WHY, you're not alone. But there's a way out, a way to gain insight and knowledge, a way to find purpose.
All you have to do is ask.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
The Voice
I would like to talk a little about God talking to me, and the way that is manifested, so here goes. It's not like He comes down and says, "Hey, how you doing?" and I respond with jaunty, "Hey, God! Good to see you again!" That would be kind of nifty, but it doesn't work that way. At least not in this life.
The Bible tells us that He will talk to us through visions and dream and a "small, still voice." Once we learn to recognize these for what they are, we can start to understand what He's trying to tell us. It's not always easy and what He tells us isn't always pleasant, but it's usually something that will help us.
I have had dreams that have had such a ring of truth that they stick with me for months, as though they had actually happened. There have been a few recently. I won't discuss them just yet, because even though they happened first, later events help to solidify their significance.
I have spoken before about the vision of Paradise that brought me to Christ and the Church.
What I want to talk about briefly is that small still voice. A lot of people call it the conscience, but it's not really that. It's much more complicated than that. It's that voice that tells you to do something out of you sphere of comfort. It's a sense of certainty of the correctness of something, regardless of what common sense and reason may seem to be telling you about that thing. It's an almost literal voice at times that says, "See! That's why I asked you to do that!"
I have an example of the latter.
When I first started going to my church, people would often bring up the subject of Tithing, which is giving a percentage of income to the church to do its work. Though it is commanded in Scripture, the people would speak of it as a Blessing, rather than a Burden, which seemed odd to me. Sometimes it seemed as though they were trying to convince THEMSELVES that it was a blessing. But mostly, it felt like they were talking to me. Trying to convice me that I ought to try it, as though it were some sort of expensive drug that didn't sure anything and didn't get you high. A bargain at any price, hey?
There is a Scriptural verse, Malachi 3:10, where God challenges us to test him; pay the tithe and see if you don't get more than paid back in full. As I continued investigating, I knew I wanted to join the church, but was still skeptical about the whole tithing thing. But, I was willing to give it a go.
Now, our family finances are often shaky, but I put a little aside each pay, waiting until I felt we were up to date on our bills and payday was close and then I gave a check. It wasn't a huge check, in the grand scheme of things, but to me, it was pretty big: the biggest check I'd ever written that wasn't to buy something for myself or my family. It felt good.
Four days later was payday, and four days after that, there was a total of $10 in our joint checking and savings accounts. And no food in the house.
Although we didn't know it at the time, my mother-in-law had sent a nice check to my wife earlier that morning, for reasons that are still unclear.
And the two days later, we received refund checks for overpayments to our retirement systems which we hadn't expected to receive for several more weeks.
Then, the morning after we received those checks, I was going through my "Important Papers Drawer, which I've gone through dozens of times over the last few years, and this time, an envelope of money fell out of the pile. One of my cousins had sent it years ago to help cover expenses after my stroke and in my confused state, I put it in the drawer and forgot about it. But it is amazing that through all those times I've been through that drawer it should have been right there on top when I needed it most.
But the kicker is this: The envelope contained the exact amount of my tithing check.
I felt an almost physical sense of "SEE!!" and was broght nearly to my knees.
God had spoken to me.
When we give God what he asks of us, he will, as Scripture says, give us far more than we give him. Far more than we are CAPABLE of giving him, even if we give him everything we are and do.
That is the small, still voice, though it isn't always so dramatic.
That Sunday in church, I shared my experience and far from being amazed, people were happy for me, as though NOW I was REALLY a member. When I remarked that that sort of thing doesn't generally happen to me, they told me to be ready for it to happen all the time.
In addition, the I had an understanding that I should go farther; to realize that money/time isn't the only thing that Heavenly Father will repay in kind, that sacrifice is not a loss to us, but a net gain. I understand this now, but my rational mind still sort of resists. He is not necessarily asking for more than I am willing to give, I am just scared of making that first giant step.
At some other time, I will share a longer story of my conversion. It didn't take just seven or eight months from start to finish; It was a process that went on for over twenty years. I just didn't see it at the time. But that small still voice plays a big role over that time.
The Bible tells us that He will talk to us through visions and dream and a "small, still voice." Once we learn to recognize these for what they are, we can start to understand what He's trying to tell us. It's not always easy and what He tells us isn't always pleasant, but it's usually something that will help us.
I have had dreams that have had such a ring of truth that they stick with me for months, as though they had actually happened. There have been a few recently. I won't discuss them just yet, because even though they happened first, later events help to solidify their significance.
I have spoken before about the vision of Paradise that brought me to Christ and the Church.
What I want to talk about briefly is that small still voice. A lot of people call it the conscience, but it's not really that. It's much more complicated than that. It's that voice that tells you to do something out of you sphere of comfort. It's a sense of certainty of the correctness of something, regardless of what common sense and reason may seem to be telling you about that thing. It's an almost literal voice at times that says, "See! That's why I asked you to do that!"
I have an example of the latter.
When I first started going to my church, people would often bring up the subject of Tithing, which is giving a percentage of income to the church to do its work. Though it is commanded in Scripture, the people would speak of it as a Blessing, rather than a Burden, which seemed odd to me. Sometimes it seemed as though they were trying to convince THEMSELVES that it was a blessing. But mostly, it felt like they were talking to me. Trying to convice me that I ought to try it, as though it were some sort of expensive drug that didn't sure anything and didn't get you high. A bargain at any price, hey?
There is a Scriptural verse, Malachi 3:10, where God challenges us to test him; pay the tithe and see if you don't get more than paid back in full. As I continued investigating, I knew I wanted to join the church, but was still skeptical about the whole tithing thing. But, I was willing to give it a go.
Now, our family finances are often shaky, but I put a little aside each pay, waiting until I felt we were up to date on our bills and payday was close and then I gave a check. It wasn't a huge check, in the grand scheme of things, but to me, it was pretty big: the biggest check I'd ever written that wasn't to buy something for myself or my family. It felt good.
Four days later was payday, and four days after that, there was a total of $10 in our joint checking and savings accounts. And no food in the house.
Although we didn't know it at the time, my mother-in-law had sent a nice check to my wife earlier that morning, for reasons that are still unclear.
And the two days later, we received refund checks for overpayments to our retirement systems which we hadn't expected to receive for several more weeks.
Then, the morning after we received those checks, I was going through my "Important Papers Drawer, which I've gone through dozens of times over the last few years, and this time, an envelope of money fell out of the pile. One of my cousins had sent it years ago to help cover expenses after my stroke and in my confused state, I put it in the drawer and forgot about it. But it is amazing that through all those times I've been through that drawer it should have been right there on top when I needed it most.
But the kicker is this: The envelope contained the exact amount of my tithing check.
I felt an almost physical sense of "SEE!!" and was broght nearly to my knees.
God had spoken to me.
When we give God what he asks of us, he will, as Scripture says, give us far more than we give him. Far more than we are CAPABLE of giving him, even if we give him everything we are and do.
That is the small, still voice, though it isn't always so dramatic.
That Sunday in church, I shared my experience and far from being amazed, people were happy for me, as though NOW I was REALLY a member. When I remarked that that sort of thing doesn't generally happen to me, they told me to be ready for it to happen all the time.
In addition, the I had an understanding that I should go farther; to realize that money/time isn't the only thing that Heavenly Father will repay in kind, that sacrifice is not a loss to us, but a net gain. I understand this now, but my rational mind still sort of resists. He is not necessarily asking for more than I am willing to give, I am just scared of making that first giant step.
At some other time, I will share a longer story of my conversion. It didn't take just seven or eight months from start to finish; It was a process that went on for over twenty years. I just didn't see it at the time. But that small still voice plays a big role over that time.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
The Book of Mormon
You've probably heard of the Book of Mormon. No, not the Broadway show. It's the scriptural work that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Hereafter to be mercifully abbreviated LDS) use as the foundation of the church's claim to be the True Church.
You may have heard a bunch of things about the Book of Mormon, some of them true, some of them false, some of them maybe a little of both, probably a lot misleading. So, I hope I can clarify a little and help foster some understanding. Again, I speak only for myself: These are not the official opinions of the church, nor are they necessarily endorsed by the church. However, if you should happen to continue to investigate the faith (please do), you will find that most, if not all, are compatible with church teachings.
Anyway, here's are a few things that the Book of Mormon is NOT:
Anyway, the claim that their were Caucasians in America before the Vikings and Columbus kind of stirs up a hornet's nest of people who say that there were no such people and that renders the Book of Mormon false.
I'll deal with that some other time. Suffice to say I believe the Book, rather than the naysayers. I have my reasons and I will share them in a later post.
Anyway, the Mormons do NOT regard regard the Book of Mormon as the only Holy Scripture. Besides one called the Pearl of Great Price, which is a small collection of various pieces that didn't quite fit elsewhere, there is the Doctrine and Covenants, which is revelation given to Joseph Smith and a few others that is written in scriptural form that helps form a large part of the way the church operates.
There is also this thing the Mormons read a lot called the Holy Bible. Usually the King James Version. The only caveat here is that the belief in the Bible is only "so far as it is translated correctly," per the Articles of Faith. There are numerous examples of things in the Bible that were not translated quite correctly, or where the meaning has been lost over the years, That's not opinion, that's documented fact. I'll deal with some of that in a later post, as well.
As for not being complete, that's written in the Book itself, as well as stated in the Mormon Articles of Faith. We believe that revelation is not yet complete, that there are still amazing and wondrous things yet to be revealed to the world. Which is a pretty cool thought, if you think about it.
The Book of Mormon is also not very long: a quick reader would make short work of it. But, like the Bible, repeated readings will render new perspectives to the reader and continued study is encouraged. It's also written in King James style writing. Why? I think God wanted it to be compatible with most available contemporary text at the time it was revealed. It's not hard to read, though, and the stories are interesting.
You can get a copy for free from any Mormon missionary, or at Amazon.com. They are also available free for download from LDS.org. If you want to shell out the big bucks, (like 2 or 3 dollars), look for the Complete LDS Scriptures at Amazon. That link will take you right there.
So, I will try next time to talk a little about what the Book of Mormon means, and its significance to the church.
You may have heard a bunch of things about the Book of Mormon, some of them true, some of them false, some of them maybe a little of both, probably a lot misleading. So, I hope I can clarify a little and help foster some understanding. Again, I speak only for myself: These are not the official opinions of the church, nor are they necessarily endorsed by the church. However, if you should happen to continue to investigate the faith (please do), you will find that most, if not all, are compatible with church teachings.
Anyway, here's are a few things that the Book of Mormon is NOT:
- It's not a replacement for the Bible.
- It's not the only scripture that Mormons hold sacred.
- It's not complete.
- It's not very long.
- It's not hard to read (so please do!)
Anyway, the claim that their were Caucasians in America before the Vikings and Columbus kind of stirs up a hornet's nest of people who say that there were no such people and that renders the Book of Mormon false.
I'll deal with that some other time. Suffice to say I believe the Book, rather than the naysayers. I have my reasons and I will share them in a later post.
Anyway, the Mormons do NOT regard regard the Book of Mormon as the only Holy Scripture. Besides one called the Pearl of Great Price, which is a small collection of various pieces that didn't quite fit elsewhere, there is the Doctrine and Covenants, which is revelation given to Joseph Smith and a few others that is written in scriptural form that helps form a large part of the way the church operates.
There is also this thing the Mormons read a lot called the Holy Bible. Usually the King James Version. The only caveat here is that the belief in the Bible is only "so far as it is translated correctly," per the Articles of Faith. There are numerous examples of things in the Bible that were not translated quite correctly, or where the meaning has been lost over the years, That's not opinion, that's documented fact. I'll deal with some of that in a later post, as well.
As for not being complete, that's written in the Book itself, as well as stated in the Mormon Articles of Faith. We believe that revelation is not yet complete, that there are still amazing and wondrous things yet to be revealed to the world. Which is a pretty cool thought, if you think about it.
The Book of Mormon is also not very long: a quick reader would make short work of it. But, like the Bible, repeated readings will render new perspectives to the reader and continued study is encouraged. It's also written in King James style writing. Why? I think God wanted it to be compatible with most available contemporary text at the time it was revealed. It's not hard to read, though, and the stories are interesting.
You can get a copy for free from any Mormon missionary, or at Amazon.com. They are also available free for download from LDS.org. If you want to shell out the big bucks, (like 2 or 3 dollars), look for the Complete LDS Scriptures at Amazon. That link will take you right there.
So, I will try next time to talk a little about what the Book of Mormon means, and its significance to the church.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
A Brief Testimony
I guess I should start off with a little about myself and how I became a Mormon.
I am a stroke survivor. Four years ago, I had an aneurysm at the base of my brain that should have killed me. I spent Three weeks in Intensive Care in the Cleveland Clinic, followed by four weeks in a rehab facility.
I remember very little of my time in the Clinic. Most of what I do remember is hazy and filled with pain. However, there is one bright, shining vision that still stands out clearly to me, even if I don't remember all the words spoken there. It has been a guide to me, and the Spirit has let me know when I am on the right path.
I saw My dad, who had died in September that year, as well as my uncle, who had died in August the previous year. They were in a bright, happy place, in good shape, smiling and laughing. My dad spoke to me, while my uncle did not. What I retained from the experience was a sense that Paradise is real, and that I should look to find a church and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.
I'm a procrastinator, so I really didn't look all that hard. But I grew up Catholic, and had been to services of MANY different denominations. I NEVER thought I would walk through the door of one of those crazy LDS churches.
Then, last year, I met a woman who introduced me to the Book of Mormon. I thought it was interesting at first. Then I read Alma 40:11-12. It spoke of Spirit Paradise, and when I read, the Spirit yelled at me, "DO YOU REMEMBER!?!" and I thought, "I've BEEN there!" I knew then that I was going to be a Mormon. Though, doctrinally speaking, I'm actually just returning to the Church!
I attended my first Sacrament meeting on June 2, 2013 and I was hooked. Everything I learned about the Church confirmed things I had believed even before I had investigated. I was a Mormon and didn't know it!
I prayed about the Promise of Moroni, and as an answer, I lost 40 pounds in three months without even dieting or being sick.
On 23 November 2013, I was baptized and I have to say, I love being a Mormon as much as I hated being a Catholic. To me, Catholicism was a dead religion, where God had stopped talking to us 2000 years ago. Mormonism teaches that God speaks to us today, that we can ask him for help and guidance, that he loves us and takes an active role in our lives if we will let him.
I love that.
The Spirit has guided me and comforted me along the way. The Adversary fights for our souls every step of the way and he has made my life very difficult since I have found Christ's Church, but I have the Liahona that is the Book of Mormon, as well as the Molten Stones provided by the Doctrine and Covenants, the Pearl of Great Price and, of course, the Holy Bible to give me direction and find my way.
This is a Church unlike any other. I accept and believe that the Book of Mormon is True, and accepting that requires that I believe Joseph Smith to be a True Prophet of God, which leads into believing that the Church he set up is the true restored Church of Jesus Christ with all that entails.
These things I know to be True, and I will try to share some of my insights and thoughts with any who would like to discuss.
In the Sacred Name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
I am a stroke survivor. Four years ago, I had an aneurysm at the base of my brain that should have killed me. I spent Three weeks in Intensive Care in the Cleveland Clinic, followed by four weeks in a rehab facility.
I remember very little of my time in the Clinic. Most of what I do remember is hazy and filled with pain. However, there is one bright, shining vision that still stands out clearly to me, even if I don't remember all the words spoken there. It has been a guide to me, and the Spirit has let me know when I am on the right path.
I saw My dad, who had died in September that year, as well as my uncle, who had died in August the previous year. They were in a bright, happy place, in good shape, smiling and laughing. My dad spoke to me, while my uncle did not. What I retained from the experience was a sense that Paradise is real, and that I should look to find a church and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.
I'm a procrastinator, so I really didn't look all that hard. But I grew up Catholic, and had been to services of MANY different denominations. I NEVER thought I would walk through the door of one of those crazy LDS churches.
Then, last year, I met a woman who introduced me to the Book of Mormon. I thought it was interesting at first. Then I read Alma 40:11-12. It spoke of Spirit Paradise, and when I read, the Spirit yelled at me, "DO YOU REMEMBER!?!" and I thought, "I've BEEN there!" I knew then that I was going to be a Mormon. Though, doctrinally speaking, I'm actually just returning to the Church!
I attended my first Sacrament meeting on June 2, 2013 and I was hooked. Everything I learned about the Church confirmed things I had believed even before I had investigated. I was a Mormon and didn't know it!
I prayed about the Promise of Moroni, and as an answer, I lost 40 pounds in three months without even dieting or being sick.
On 23 November 2013, I was baptized and I have to say, I love being a Mormon as much as I hated being a Catholic. To me, Catholicism was a dead religion, where God had stopped talking to us 2000 years ago. Mormonism teaches that God speaks to us today, that we can ask him for help and guidance, that he loves us and takes an active role in our lives if we will let him.
I love that.
The Spirit has guided me and comforted me along the way. The Adversary fights for our souls every step of the way and he has made my life very difficult since I have found Christ's Church, but I have the Liahona that is the Book of Mormon, as well as the Molten Stones provided by the Doctrine and Covenants, the Pearl of Great Price and, of course, the Holy Bible to give me direction and find my way.
This is a Church unlike any other. I accept and believe that the Book of Mormon is True, and accepting that requires that I believe Joseph Smith to be a True Prophet of God, which leads into believing that the Church he set up is the true restored Church of Jesus Christ with all that entails.
These things I know to be True, and I will try to share some of my insights and thoughts with any who would like to discuss.
In the Sacred Name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
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