The Fire of Faith

This post addresses my thoughts regarding, not only the recent policy clarifications in Handbook 1, but the overall nature of the doctrine of Christ, our place within it, and what we can expect as disciples of the Sacrificed God.

It is not meant to be kind, or empathetic, or consoling. It is an exploration of Christ's doctrine as I understand it. I hope it can help someone, even though I expect it will be harsh in places.

In watching (mostly) the discussions going on about the policy changes, one thing is clear. So very, very few of us understand doctrine. I'm not claiming to any special understanding, but I have studied the scriptures long and hard, pondered them, and applied them to times in my life that nearly broke me. So I do know a few things about struggling to reconcile my life with God's word and the policies of the Church. I'm going to get a bit personal here, in the hopes that my experiences can inspire someone to seek understanding, rather than justice.

Privilege and a Testimony of Polygamy

In watching various people address the new publication of information by the Church on Joseph Smith and his wives, I feel similar to the way I did when watching the reaction to 9/11*. Because I'm a relatively self-centered person**, I have spent a great deal of thought analyzing my reaction to understand it. Why, in a world where so many are so shocked and appalled by the Church's admission† to the extent and nature of Joseph's sealings, am I utterly unaffected?

Of course, the reason is complicated, based on a many-layered set of experiences and ways I've processed them. But I thought I'd tease out a few things that I've not seen anyone else hash over.

Healing Through Repeat Trauma

When I first created and named this blog, I didn't know it would be so prophetic. Then, I only chose this name because it fit my screen name, and I loved the parable of the houses built upon sand and rock. Since then, my house has truly been buffeted by storms I did not imagine at the time. There have been times that I was sure that my foundations would crumble. I could feel some sands upon which my life had been built washing away from under me. There have been times I've clung desperately to the rock that was left, sobbing for help. Some of those times, there was someone to help. Many of them, there was no one.

After the night my ex-husband left for the final time, I had symptoms of post traumatic stress. For days, I got no sleep and for weeks I got very little. Someone would use a word, or I'd see an object that was involved that night, and the world would skip ahead. To others, I would cease to respond for a few seconds as my mind blanked out. Certain interactions, especially those involving any kind of conflict, no matter how mild, would leave me trembling for hours. I'd get flashbacks. And that is only a few of the things that had suddenly become a part of my life for months and years.

Young Women's Values—Good Works

"Fear not to do good, . . . let earth and hell combine against you, for if ye are built upon my rock, they cannot prevail. Behold, I do not condemn you; go your ways and sin no more; . . . Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not. Behold the wounds which pierced my side, and also the prints of the nails in my hands and feet. . . ."

As shows in previous posts, charity and good works have been weighing heavily on my mind. Possessed by a fey restlessness, I have been trying to redirect my life back towards the good goals that I once had and lost touch with. But I keep coming up against roadblocks of resentment, both against myself and the world around me.

I really don't know much about the value of Good Works yet. If anything I think I might know less than I did as a Young Woman. It seems to me that so many things that seem to be good turn out to be bad. I don't know how to serve others. I thought maybe I'd learn something by the time I posted this, but I haven't.

What I do know is that fear has something to do with it. As Christ says above, look to Him and move forward in service with courage. Not as simple as it sounds, I have found.

What I Learned From No Longer Being Married

In the aftermath of my divorce, I've been trying to pick up the pieces of what I have learned in an attempt to fashion it into some sort of semblance of personal progression. I have been thinking about what I wish I could have known without learning it the hard way. I think I have learned a lot about not only what is important in a marriage, but what is important in any relationship.

True love comes from respect. If someone respects and admires me, and I respect and admire them, that is the sort of love that lasts. It is the sort of love that forgives. It is the sort of love that trusts. It can be platonic or not, but either way, it is what combats loneliness and binds hearts together.

I learned that what can sometimes seem not important to begin with, ends up being important. For example, although I'm drawn to men who are taller than me, I made it a point not to fixate on that. I married someone a little shorter than I am, which truly didn't matter to me, but manifested every so often as one of his insecurities. It could be argued that it was the insecurity which was to blame, but I think it wasn't so much the insecurity itself, or what he was insecure about, as it was about his tendency to fix the blame for his insecurity on external things. When I was married, I was the most convenient external thing in most cases. So if I were to go through it again, I'd pay attention to the little things he mentioned, the (to me silly) little things he "joked" about or wanted to prove himself in. I wouldn't just dismiss such things out of hand. I wouldn't mistake lack of importance as lack of significance.

I discovered that when a man who has a romantic interest in you tells you that you are different from other women, you should run. Sooner or later, he will remember that you are a woman, too.

I also have become determined not to give a sewer rat's flea-infested behind about how HE feels about ME until I've felt something for him. And if a man you hardly know suddenly declares his love for you out of the blue, it is not like Jane Austin. It is his attempt to control you. It deserves disbelieving laughter, not to be taken seriously or with compassion. True love grows gradually as you get to know someone. There is no such thing as love at first sight, though there is possibly sight at first love.

I learned that external conditions often have very little to do with personal worth or life's choices, but sometimes they are clues to a person's true nature. I learned to look at overall patterns of behavior, not individual instances, apologies, or declarations of love.

Most of all, I learned that divorce is evil, but sometimes it's not as evil as being married.

Why the Church is True

I love this essay by Eugene England. It's an old one, but it deserves to be read periodically.

Some Talks Become MORE Applicable With Time

Such as this talk given in 1986.

"As All Have Not Faith"

Among the reading for Gospel Doctrine this week, is this passage from Joseph Smith to the School of the Prophets:
"And as all have not faith, seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith."

I have often heard this scripture, but never before has the phrase "as all have not faith" struck me the way it did today. It adds a whole new depth of meaning to this passage. Not only are we to learn by study and by faith out of the best books (not just good books), but we are to do it because not everyone has faith. It is not only for our own personal advancement, but to teach others who do not have faith to understand.

There are many who find themselves constantly questioning, unable to, as they put it, "just believe". Constantly beset by crises of faith, they begin to doubt themselves, perhaps even to despise themselves or others when they compare their experiences to what others claim to feel. Yet, by the import of this passage, perhaps they demand too much of themselves. It is not given to everyone to have the conviction and/or faith that some are blessed with, and that is according to the will of God.

For those who are blessed with that burning light of faith, there is a special charge on them to go out and seek for the knowledge they, personally, may not feel they need. As they do so, they will be guided by wisdom in how to nurture, protect and love those who are not given the particular Spiritual gift of faith they are given. When they study the history and the "big issues" with an eye of faith, they can nurture the strength of the gospel not only in themselves, but also in others who cannot, no matter how they may desire, "just believe."

As far as I am concerned, this is at least part of the holy and divine purpose in blogging. Only online can so many reach towards each other, and in forgiving themselves and others of their faults, clasp hands in the Gospel. When we have weakness, we learn to rely on God and each other, and by so doing, accomplish the truest purposes of God.

I Believe in the Holy Scriptures

Articles of Faith #8
[I] believe the Bible to be the word of God as far as it is translated correctly; [I] also believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God.

I remember one of the first personal spiritual experiences I had with the Book of Mormon. I went to my mom with a question, and she told me to search the scriptures for an answer. I vividly remember going to my room, praying for an answer, and then just opening and reading. I don't now remember the question, but I remember it was answered. I could not have been more than seven or eight years old.

My most memorable experience with the Bible came years later. I was a teenager taking seminary and resolved to read the entirety of the Bible. It took me two years, but I did it. I even read the "begats" and Isaiah. In fact, Isaiah has become one of my favorite books of scripture. There is so much to be learned in his poetry. I prayed to know if the Bible was the word of God, as I did with the Book of Mormon, and received a similar witness.

There are many who rail against the Book of Mormon and its origins, and many who doubt the historicity of the Bible and the Book of Mormon. Few other books have been picked apart and analyzed the way these two books of scripture have been. I know that these books are here by the power of God. I don't know this because I have verified their historicity, or even just because I have prayed for a confirmation of their spiritual truths, but because I have put it to the test. If I could describe all the times scripture has blessed me and aided me, there would not be a book large enough to contain it.

To me, they are true in a way that has nothing to do with their historicity. History is useful to put things into perspective, but it is largely irrelevant to the purpose of either book. They are true, not because they are free from bias or perspective, not because they document the lives of people long gone, but because they document my life. Every time I have struggled, every incandescent moment I have experienced in the Spirit, is echoed somewhere in those books. Whenever I am enlightened, it is either in conjunction with scripture study or confirmed by it. Nearly every time I am calmed by the Spirit, it is done using the words of the prophets in these books.

I believe every mystery of God can be found in studying the written and current prophetically-spoken scriptures. Other material may try to clarify, others may try to speculate or enhance the words of God, but nothing I have read or heard has said it more succinctly, more beautifully and more accurately than said in ancient and living scripture.

If you have any question, any trouble weighing on your heart, take it to the scriptures. The words of Christ—the words of the prophets—will heal you.

The Maverick of the (Sanity) Ward

A very interesting conversation over at BCC hits close to home for me. They are asking members to be a little kinder to those who do not agree with them, a little more thoughtful of the "outliers". While I completely agree that a little more kindness, a little larger place would be nice, I feel I have something to say from the bottom of the pile, so to speak.

I am currently absolutely furious about a situation in my ward as it concerns my family. I won't say I'm rationally furious, as it does not come from rational thought but from a wellspring of pent up frustration and loneliness. Most of my fury is focused around a man who happens to be the current leader of the ward. In complete honesty, I can say that I admire him. He is a good, plainspoken man. He has a very homey way about him completely free of guile and manipulation. As a person, I like him very much. Unfortunately, I don't think he understands much about me or my life. This isn't for lack of trying to communicate on either side of the issue, but it is there, all the same. Hence, the frustration.

In other words, I am the recipient of some very biased attitudes. Much of it is my fault for being who I am, much is just the fallout from the situation.

But I want to say that, while I would appreciate (and HAVE appreciated) little acts of kindness from members in my ward, I can recognize how much I have grown from the struggle. Because the people around me are imperfect, I can get a little more perfect. If everyone around me was perfectly kind and accepting of whatever I did, I would have no reason to change, no reason to examine myself and my actions. I have been able to weigh my lifestyle, my pride and comfort against my faith, and decide what is truly important to me.

Therefore, I recognize my fury as pointless and temporary, and can appreciate the chance to learn and grow, even if I don't like it, and even if it breaks my heart.

After all, it is a broken heart which God asks of me.

Brainwashing

"Brainwashed" is probably ranked with the weakest possible arguments. If I say you're brainwashed, I can ignore the chance that someone might be able to disagree with me and have a valid point. If I can relegate you to a pat little category, I don't have to listen.

A little wake-up call, folks: it could be easily said that we are all brainwashed. We are all products of our environment. Quit name-calling and try—just try—to understand another person's point of view for once. You might find yourself stretching and growing.

You might even find yourself becoming wise.

Obedience Despite Disagreement

I want to share a story. I apologize, but it is a mission story, I can't help that. It is something quite personal and sacred to me, but at the urging of a friend I shall share it here.

My mission president was the sort of man who was able to see straight through you and into your soul when he shook your hand. He was wise and patient, and able to interview and teach missionary work on levels suited to the individual missionary. He was quite strict, having inherited a somewhat chaotic mission. He was roughly halfway done with his mission when I entered the mission field. He also loved sisters and sister missionary work.

I was in four areas during my first nine months, transferred nearly every transfer, until I was sent to the most remote sisters' area in the mission. The nearest member priesthood wielders were in a town 10 minutes away by train. The nearest missionaries were 30-40 minutes away by train. We were effectively alone in our work. Moreoever, the ward did not like missionaries. They had some bad missionary experiences in their fairly recent past, and still largely thought of the missionaries as parasites with no benefit to them.

The work was difficult there. We were remote, and had no car. We walked and used public transit. The terrain was fairly hilly, and communities were spaced relatively far apart. With little member support and no other missionaries, it was lonely. We struggled to teach and bring investigators to church, only to have them shunned and ignored. It was difficult. After praying about it for some time and receiving strong Spiritual confirmation, my companion and I decided to recommend that the area be closed to missionaries for a time. It would give the members time to rest. Eventually, our desires were granted.

I was sent to a place I had always felt I would be sent. I felt I had some specific work to do. It was four and a half months before the end of my mission, as I had decided to take the later return home. Also, two weeks after my transfer, we were to change mission presidents and merge with another mission. I was placed in a companionship which was amiable for about two hours, but then fell apart when I looked over the book and, as the senior companion, prepared to direct our companionship's work.

My companion of the time was very headstrong, and though she was junior companion in her previous companionship, she made all the decisions. In the brief time observing the companionship before the other sister returned home, I saw a rather emotionally abusive relationship. This sister resented my outlook on missionary work, as I thought we should spend our time teaching and tracting, and not lounging around members' houses, having come from an area which was still suffering from such behavior. She felt the best way to do the work was to buddy up with the members.

As those who have been in these sorts of relationships know, when the parties agree, it is as if there is no senior and junior companionship. When the parties do not agree, however, it is the job of the senior companion to prayerfully and considerately make the decision. I admit I was not as considerate as I now wish I had been. To me, the mission was about work, not play, and I was still young in my position as senior companion. The companionship quickly became completely unbearable, and we spent more time split with the office sisters in our apartment next to the main office, and not together as companions. In this personal climate, we gained a new president and merged with the other mission.

The new president knew our previous president fairly well, as they had served missions together. Purely in speculation and feelings I gained, as they made little to no outward sign of it, I feel they did not particularly get along before. They were completely cordial to each other, however, and our beloved mission president left the mission in the hands of his successor. Perhaps because there had been some history behind them, perhaps because all new presidents feel they need to change things, perhaps because of the merger, our work quickly changed. The new president felt that triple companionships were a waste of resources, and since there were two sister companionships of that nature in the mission, within a week my previous companion and I were sent back to the area we had been relieved to leave.

I couldn't help but feel that it was a personal failure on my part. If I had been a better senior companion, had known how to deal with my angry junior companion, perhaps I would have been allowed to stay where I felt I should be and do the Task I thought the Lord wanted me to do. My failure, in my eyes, was spectacular. My companion was transferred out of the area in the next transfer and I was paired with a senior sister.

She was in her seventies, but extremely fit, especially for her age. It was good that she was so, because the terrain had not changed and we still had no car. Feeling like a failure, I redoubled my efforts to work hard and frankly pushed her far too hard to learn the language and keep up with the work. I was perfectly horrible to her. I felt completely crushed by my situation, and at a loss to know what to do. Each transfer I prayed to leave, each time I stayed I knew I was still a failure. I knew I had messed up beyond repair, and I was banished to a place I could do little further harm, paired with someone who could not help me prove I was worthy.

During this time of angst, the president decided that as a mission, we were not working hard enough and doubled our goal numbers. He strongly favored the other mission we had merged with and constantly lauded their efforts and their successes. They were a much smaller mission and had not been transferred very often. Most missionaries there would serve in one or two areas before going home, our average was more like four or five. They were the golden children, and resentment was building in our half of the mission. As the most senior sister remaining from that mission, I was the recipient of a great deal of complaining.

The resentment only grew worse as rumors began to circulate that the new president's favorite sister missionary was calling her previous Zone Leader (across two countries) after curfew. Other similar rumors began to fly. As telephone records came out, so did the truth. This sister and the elder involved were sent home honorably, from what I remember, as it was time for her to return home anyways. That was not the end of it. Perhaps because of the infrequent transfers or smallness of that mission, most of the rumors were true. It quickly became common knowledge that the Golden Child was in a state of decay, and the whipping boy was boiling in anger over it.

I thought it would be a good idea to let the president know the state of feeling among many of the missionaries, including myself, before it boiled over. I was recalled from my remote area, riding 5 hours alone to return to the area I felt I was supposed to serve in. I had no idea what was going on. When I got to the office, I sat for some time before being invited in. There followed a long, tearful, emotional interview in which I was informed that the Mission President was sending me home in the next transfer. I was to be given an honorable discharge, but was not to stay the extra month I had felt strongly I was to serve, despite my personal difficulties.

He felt I was breaking under the stress of the mission and could not handle another month. I plead with him as I have never done so with anyone else. I knew I was supposed to stay. I promised I would no longer complain and would do all I could to disperse the ill feelings of others. I can't remember everything I said in that interview, but by the end, he let me stay (on probation.) I returned, completely humiliated and broken. I served my last month without the zeal and energy I had before depended on.

In my time after being sent back, we had completely ceased doing member meals. At first this was only our companionship's choice, but the president had meanwhile told the missionaries that member meals were to be done on their free time and were not to count as missionary work, unless a nonmember was present. We tracted. Fairly early in my return, a referral came in from a member in another mission. This lady had gone through a divorce and had one son, about two years old. She was utterly sweet, and lived in the furthest reach of our area. We had to travel an hour and a half by train to teach her. We had been teaching her every week when I was recalled to the office, and after I returned, she set a baptismal date and ended up being baptized the Saturday before I left for home. She was the only baptism of someone I had taught which I saw in the course of my mission.

Gradually, during my last month, my humiliation became mixed with humility. I began to see all the many things I had done wrong in the latter course of my mission. I began to understand that I had no right to take upon myself the responsibility of informing the mission president what he was doing wrong. I certainly should never have participated in all the ill feeling towards him. Even if I had felt it, I should have kept it to myself.

I believe his efforts, though misguided, were deeply sincere. He had been trying to do the right thing. It was some time after my mission that I saw that his situation was not so different from what mine had been as senior companion to a girl who resented me. In my own small way, I had been in a leadership position I was ill prepared for. I had made serious mistakes, despite trying to do what I felt was right and trying to follow the Spirit with all my energy of soul. How wonderful it would have been, and how much more I could have learned, had my companion chosen to support me with gentle discussions of how she felt I was wrong. If she had given me time to grow and learn, we could have been a stellar companionship.

I'm sure the new president learned some life-changing lessons in the course of his service, despite its stormy beginnings. I still cherish him and his wife, and wish I were better at keeping up with them. I know he is—and was—a man of God, called by Him to be there in that place and time, despite his imperfections and insecurities.

There is a time, place and manner in which to disagree with our priesthood leaders. They are imperfect, but I have never once met one who wasn't trying to do the right thing according to their understanding. It is so vitally important to treat them with charity and understanding. Love them, even if you don't agree with them. Realize that the Lord has called them to their position for reasons you don't know. Through their leadership service, they will learn charity and humility. In the meantime, support them with a whole heart, even if you cannot agree with them. Disagree respectfully and lovingly. You never know when you will be in a place of leadership where you will wish that you had one person willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.

Patient in All Their Sufferings

This has seemed to become a sort of scriptural journal for me. I am deeply enjoying the interaction and comments on my thoughts that have been shared. Thank you all for calling me into check when I begin to depart from doctrine and for supporting me in my attempts to learn. I love this aspect of the internet: that those who would not otherwise have a chance to do so may share thoughts and learning and support each other in coming to Christ.

I have a deep, enduring personal sorrow which I have been struggling with for some time. The specifics are not something I care to share here, but today it was particularly poignant. I prayed more earnestly than I often do that in my reading today I would be led to something that would help me cope. I began reading Alma, chapter 20. In this chapter, the newly converted King Lamoni goes with Ammon to release his fellow missionaries, who have been captured and poorly treated.

Their missionary service up to this time has been starkly different from Ammon's. They had gone among those who, at least in part, came from the priests of Noah. These were a people hardened in rebellion against God, with no room for the Spirit in their hearts. Although Aaron, who was Ammon's brother, had the same experiences with conversion as Ammon and likely the same depth and zeal of Spirit, he was not so successful as Ammon. He had been in prison for a long time, certainly months.

As I read this chapter, I was trying to find the answer to my heart's yearning for peace. I was seeking for it in the encounter with Lamoni's father, likening the participants in the story to certain situations in mine. While I read, I got the feeling that I was stretching the application in order to get what I wanted from the scriptures, so I gave up on it and simply read, feeling my hopes for comfort crumble somewhat. Then, as I read verse 29, the answer and the Spirit sprang at me. I knew that the Lord had answered my pleas once again in the simplest and most beautiful of ways and not in the complicated meanings I was attempting to wrest from the scriptures. The verse lists the many pains, humiliations and discomforts they underwent, and then adds "nevertheless they were patient in all their sufferings."

Just like that, I had the strength to go on a little longer. The Spirit gifted me with the knowledge of what I am to do. It may not be the answer to simply be patient with every affliction that crosses our paths, but it is for this one, for now. The Lord has reassured that our patience will not be without comfort for "I am with thee, even unto the end of thy days." How I love Him! When all else fails me, even myself, He is there—eternally there—waiting to comfort and love me.

The Visions and Blessings and Glories of God

A recent conversation about the second anointing and receiving the second Comforter has me formulating some things into words that I haven't before. I apologize if I'm awkward trying to get my meaning across, I'm not sure how to say what is in my heart right now.

Sometimes there is so much pain and discipline in the Gospel of Christ, we forget about the blessings and glories. Because the blessings come after the discipline and pain, some people never see them. How I wish I could show them! It's amazing to me how things which were only words can be magically transformed by the Spirit of the Lord into profound teachings. Even the simple sentence, "I know God lives!" can seem trite, empty, and even controversial on the surface, but when communicated through the Spirit receives inexplicable dimension and beauty.

It is one thing to see Christ in vision and another to receive the second Comforter, to come to the point where you are truly communing with Him as a friend. There are those alive today who have that glorious relationship with Him! How I long for that. How I ache after knowing Him that way again! How I wish I were not so full of sin as to still be separated from my Redeemer! When we are commanded to receive Him every week in Sacrament, we are being pointed towards this great experience. Not only do I believe it possible to receive this in this life, I believe it is God's true goal for us. Everything else builds towards that true communion with the One who snatched us from the depths of separation from Him. What could be more glorious than to conquer Satan completely and fully while still under influence of the Fall? If we do not receive it in this life, I believe that God is merciful and we will still be able to receive Christ in the next life, but I believe that is our truest goal.

Those who have seen visions from God and received the second Comforter so often find themselves weak in communicating. All we have objectively are words. It takes a subjective quality in the receiver and in the teacher both to truly communicate these things. Even I, who have not yet received anything of such import, find myself struggling to define the things I have been given. No one can teach it to another any more than the virgins could share their oil because the same words undergo such a indescribable transformation once a seeker is ready to understand the deeper meanings. That can't be taught, only invited.

I want to be with Him again. If He sees fit to grant that to me in this life, I will be even more grateful than I already am. But if not, still I will never give up trying. I will never set my sights lower than communion with my Savior. Flashes of the Spirit are not enough for me. It is not enough for me to taste the bounty of the Gospel, I want to feast upon it.

Blogging by the Spirit

When speaking in Sacrament meeting or teaching a class, I subscribe to Gene R. Cook's method described in his book "Teaching by the Spirit." My mission president gave me this book early in my mission, and it changed the way I teach. To sum it up, it is essentially focusing on self-preparation rather than speech-preparation. In it, the speaker reads, ponders, lives according to the commandments and prays, then stands up to teach and lets the Spirit take over. It is a slightly frightening way to teach, especially at first, and I've had a few times where my confidence overreached my humility and it didn't go well.

Nevertheless, I've found it highly effective both to teach and to learn. This year, I've applied it to Sunday lessons, though I've only taught once. I find the lessons are far more meaningful, and the scriptures are merging into one in ways I never before understood. It is also highly effective in less formal teaching/learning moments in life, such as when a friend needs help, when driving . . . and when blogging.

Although I once found debating points of opinion scintillating, I have progressed to a point where I no longer enjoy it. Discussion is still enjoyable to me, but it is easy to discern between the two. There is a certain level of hostility absent in discussion. The Spirit departs from debate. In blogging and commenting on blogs, I have tried to apply this method. If what I am saying has any significance at all, if I cannot feel the Spirit flowing through my mind and heart and into my fingers, I refrain from "speaking." I've mentioned this once before.

I have found that I spend a lot less time reading and writing on blogs (a blessing, since I don't have much time to spare) and more time away from the computer, pondering on the "things of eternity". My understanding and heart has opened more to the things of God.

I try to no longer engage in debate of any kind. The part of me that once found it intellectually stimulating now realizes that it was just a disguised attempt to prove how smart/intelligent/wise/spiritual I was to myself. Moreover, I don't really want to be intellectually stimulated in that way nearly as much as I want to be spiritually stimulated. There is no way for the "natural" or intelligent man to understand the things of God. There is no way for an intellectual discussion devoid of the Spirit to bring us to better understanding of God's ways.

Intelligence is good when it submits to the Spirit, but if it doesn't, it is better not to be intelligent. What is more, if you write by the Spirit, nothing anyone says against you matters. You know you were doing your best to follow the Lord's will for you. If you write when filled with the Spirit, though you may be frightened of the judgment of men, you are a prophet of God.

Why a Different Answer?

It is a strange set of circumstances that surrounds the question "Is the Book of Mormon true?" As missionaries, we teach the process to receiving a testimony, namely 1) Gather information (specifically to read the Book of Mormon), 2) Prepare yourself to receive the Spirit into your heart by doing all you can to keep the Lord's commandments and 3) Pray to God the Father in the name of Jesus Christ if the things you have read and done are true and of Him. Many members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have done these things and received an answer from the Lord through the Spirit that the Church is true, that the Book of Mormon is of God, that Joseph Smith is His prophet and that those who have been so called in the history of the Church are also His prophets. Some have received this answer so unequivocally that they find it difficult to understand how another person could do the same things and receive a different answer. In their minds, they know it to be true. Therefore, if someone else does not know it to be true, they haven't applied themselves to finding an answer diligently enough to receive it. The reality behind the surface, I suspect, is much more complicated. There could be any number of reasons why one seeking to know the truth may not receive it, only one of which is that they are not trying hard enough. I'd like to hypothesize a few of these.

The Lord is giving an answer, but the person doesn't know how to recognize it. This is a common one. This is one thing the missionaries are to do: to help people feel and recognize the Spirit. Many people, having heard stories of miraculous conversions, are seeking a wham-bam testimony slap. In the economy of heaven, this is rare. It is important for a seeker of truth to train oneself to the soft whisperings of the Spirit, rather than expecting pyrotechnics. This is not to say divine pyrotechnics are impossible, only that they come after a person has already demonstrated patience and subtlety in listening for the Spirit.

The Gospel is hard. The Lord may refrain from giving an answer to one seeking it because they are not truly ready to receive it. Once the path of discipleship is commenced, it quickly becomes apparent that it is not a stroll through the park. Additionally, a person may also decide for themselves that the path of discipleship is too hard for them. Often they can't admit this to themselves, preferring to believe that they have found no answer or even a negative one. I know of at least one person who has commenced on the path of discipleship, only to be intimidated by the difficulty of it. For some reason, we expect that if we are doing the right thing, it should be easy or at least easier. Though it is an important starting point, the gospel requires more than that initial desire to believe. It also requires dedication. One must be prepared to give all that they have, all that they are to His kingdom. There is no room for lukewarm dedication in the battle for the allegiance of men's souls.

Along a similar note, it is possible that those who are consciously seeking an answer are subconsciously afraid of it. After all, if they know the truth, they will be expected to act on it. It will require Changing their lives in ways they may not be prepared for. They will have to learn self-control. They will have to learn to stand for what they believe in the face of opposition. It takes a lot of courage to decide to stop swimming with the river and to go against it. Some will lose friends and even family members to their decision.

Finally, it is possible that the Lord refrains giving an answer for purposes of His own. He knows the hearts and actions of all men. Who is to say that by giving His answer ten years from now rather than now, that more people will not be blessed by it? Sometimes, a seeker of knowledge may have more to learn before they embark on the path of discipleship. We just don't know. What we do know is that the Lord has promised that all those who work for Him will receive Him. Those who seek will find, but it may not be according to our plans and timetables.

The Search for a Mother

I understand the desire to know a Heavenly Mother. When I was exploring religious options I became very close to the concepts in Wiccanism. There are many varieties of Wiccanism (including the gothic dancing in the park variety, though that wasn't the one that resonated with me.) All varieties, however, worship a Lady to some extent. As a self-hating girl, this was one of the things that appealed to me the most. Perhaps through the worship of the Lady, I could come to know, understand and love myself better. As time passed and I prayed to know the truth, I received confirmation that God led the Church of Jesus Christ Latter-day Saints and not Wiccanism. This doesn't mean that I understand all things about the Church and its doctrines. I have seen many conversations in the Bloggernacle, especially on the more pro-feminist sites, that discuss the Church's doctrine of a Mother in Heaven. Most of the time, they express dissatisfaction in the Church's dealing with and practical acceptance of this doctrine. "Why can't we pray to Mother?" seems to be the greatest of these complaints. Most of those who address this have varying reasons for (or accusations against) this doctrine.

As we grow as children, we go through phases where we are closer to our mothers and phases where we are closer to our fathers as we learn who we are in this world. A theory that once occurred to me ("cute" though it may be) is that in the pre-existance, we had our Mother-time, and now we have our Father-time. Thus, we now pray to our Father where we once communed more with our Mother. As mortals, we only see the here and now and often forget that our existence stretches beyond our memories. We see this small moment in our beings as unfair because our Mother isn't here. With a truly eternal perspective, I suspect that we will understand the greater picture of our Heavenly Parents.

One of the more interesting arguments as to why the active worship of a Mother in Heaven is allowable under the true, original gospel is to put forth Asherah of Old Testament infamy as Heavenly Mother. If this is the case—not only that the worship Asherah was pagan, but that it originated in revelation from God—than it illustrates poignantly why that worship is not currently allowed. The worship of Asherah was shockingly lewd. I won't go into details, but suffice it to say that it was a wild brand of fertility worship probably dating back to the worship of the Mother Goddess of prehistory. This sort of worship violently opposed chastity, modesty, family and propriety. It spawned (or was closely associated with) Molech sacrifice. It encouraged idolatry and dichotomized worship of the God of Abraham. Many of the more obscure tenets of Moses' law were framed to outlaw Israelite worship of the Mother goddess as inherited from their Egyptian masters.

Naturally, many who argue for the reinstitution of Mother worship also disregard the importance of chastity, modesty, family and propriety as outdated, patriarchial concepts. In this sense, as for me and my house, I prefer the Lord of Israel's way.

In addition, a greater Church encouragement of knowledge of and prayers to our Heavenly Mother would lead to a division of worship. Truthfully, Mother and Father in Heaven are inseparable. They are One, unified. As mortals, we find it nearly impossible to understand this concept, especially in this Age of Individuality. We worship the Self, we venerate independence. Obvious worship of a Mother in Heaven in our weak understanding would most likely lead to a division in the Church. Some would lean towards Mother, others towards Father. In our ignorance, we would create "sides" and then believe that there was something vital to be gained from one side or the other. It already happens, even without Church-sanctioned prayer to Heavenly Mother, as evidenced by the number of people who (mostly anonymously) admit to praying to their Mother. Most of them see themselves as more spiritually progressed than their siblings who do not pray to Her. The concept serves to divide, not unite. It does nothing to help us prove our obedience and dedication to the Lord. I suspect that any further knowledge of Mother is suspended until we are ready to worship both Her and Father properly.

Furthermore, we pray to the Father, not to Christ. I reiterate that we, as mortals, have almost no ability to truly understand equality. We continually conflate it with sameness or wander into superiority of one kind or another. (Use the feminist movement as an example. Very few, if any, feminists truly believe in equality. Most believe either in sameness—that there are no differences—or in swinging the pendulum to the side of female superiority. We seem unable to truly understand different-but-equal in any practical sense.) Therefore, in our mortal doctrine, Christ is spectacularly subservient to the Father. The hierarchy of Heaven is made obvious to us, so our mortal minds might understand what is necessary to return to God (namely, the sacrifice of His Son and all the doctrine associated with it.) If we included a more active role of Mother, how would the Church present this heirarchy? Either Mother would in some way seem subservient to the Father, or the Father would in some way seem subservient to Her. Neither eventuality contributes to the purpose of our mortal lives. At present, all we can do is speculate on how our Parents could be of one mind, and pray and wait patiently until we know the truth.

In the end, the only real answer is one most people will hate: we don't pray to Her because we have been commanded not to. We don't know the reason, but we will, given time. Patience is a virtue that is becoming rarer as this world winds into the final Act, but it is vital in the search for humility and exaltation.

On Feminism, Motherhood and Change

I am currently reading a book entitled "Daughters of God, Scriptural Portraits" by S. Michael Wilcox. It is an interesting read that has taken me through a wide range of emotions from confusion to peace and back again. In it, he examines the scriptural "portraits" of women in the Bible, Book of Mormon and Church History and extracts the lessons and examples of each.

Reading it has underscored my own unworthiness. I'm afraid that I often feel unequal to the task of living as a daughter of God. I have rapidly transitioned from single college graduate to sister missionary to single RM to wife to mother and am left with a feeling of "What just happened? Where am I?" I still feel like my single self, yet I'm living in a sort of perpetual transition. I know so many things that are expected of me - to keep the house clean, keep my husband happy, raise my daughter to be happy and well-adjusted, work and keep a full-time job, visit teach, magnify my ward calling, attend Church meetings and activities, support and love my husband, exemplify charity and kindness - and things I want to do - such as sew toys and clothes for my daughter, organize some of the chaos in our house, teach my daughter to swim, paint and draw, read and be a good neighbor. I think I am trying to adjust to the new role I find myself in with little feeling of success.

The strangest thing is that in the struggle to define what it means to be a "good wife and mother," I feel I am largely on my own. Everyone seems to have a different idea of what is a good wife and mother without any input in how to accomplish it. As a teenager and single adult, you have plethoras of practical advice. Church leaders, parents and teachers are constantly telling you what you should be doing and giving you tips on how to do it. Once you are married, they all back off and focus on the upcoming generation. "You are on your own, now," they seem to say. No church activities, General Conference talks or ward support exists for the newly married or those with new children. I think the network of Relief Society is supposed to fill the gap, but I am not connecting with Relief Society. This gap which I have gradually felt widening between me and the Church populace since my return from my mission seems to grow wider and wider as I walk through this strange new life. I suppose it is rather like learning to ride a bike. There comes a time when your dad lets go, and you fall and skin your knee. I just wish I didn't have to include others in my struggles and falls. Always before, my struggles and pains were mine alone.

With that background of struggles in mind, I have recently stumbled upon the world of the "Bloggernacle." This is a complex Mormon society of bloggers with a bemusing array of fiery opinions and backgrounds. I have found it interesting to participate in a few of the multiple boards involved, but, although many are self-labeled "misfits" in the Church-wide culture, they are not the same sort of misfit I am. I have worked out a testimony, for the most part, of the doctrines of the Church, but have not studied the ins and outs exhaustively. I have come to peace with seemingly anti-feminism stances and the Churchly definition of motherhood and womanhood as discussed so clearly in "Daughters of God." What I haven't come to peace with is my place within it. I have had promises and blessings given to me of which I cannot be worthy. I look at myself and simply cannot see how I could ever "go and do" the Lord's commandments well enough to enter the Celestial Kingdom. I cannot picture Heavenly Father embracing me at the last day and proclaiming "well done, thou good and faithful servant." I don't think I can do it. I agree with the doctrines of the Church, but cannot see how to accomplish them. I am, therefore, neither in the camp of feminism nor in the camp of Church-defined "motherhood."

I suppose it all comes down to trust in the Atonement of Christ. It is more than seeing there is a net below a 100 ft. tightrope, it is knowing you cannot balance, that you will fall, yet trying to walk the tightrope anyways, trusting the net will catch you. Faith is not belief or understanding, it is letting go control of your destiny and placing it into the hands of another.

When I was about 15, I had the chance to rappel down a cliff for the first time in my life. I remember getting into the harness and listening to the instructions of the expert. I pictured in my mind what I had to do, and felt my body preparing for the motions. I walked up to the brink of the tiny, 30-ft. cliff and looked over the edge to see that the man holding the safety rope was a guy in my ward who loved to tease and irritate. I didn't trust him. Despite the fear of ridicule, I simply could not go over the edge as long as that man held the safety rope. Rather than hurt his feelings, I backed away from the edge. To this day, I have never rock climbed or rappelled, I have never had another chance. In order to live this life, you have to be willing to leap over the edge, even though you can't really see who is holding the safety rope. He is shrouded in mist and others' opinions of who He is. Trusting nothing but an internal feeling that it will be okay, you step over. I don't know if I can do that. I don't think I can accomplish all the Lord has commanded me, yet I hope that He believes in me more than I do.