The Good Confession (I Believe)

2010-05-25T19:52:00.001-07:00

I had a brilliant idea tonight...or so I thought. I emerged from the bedroom with a huge piece of white paper and announced to the girls that I was going to draw something amazing for them. Gwen and Aubrie quickly stopped what they were doing and joined me in the living room. With purple sharpie in hand, I started my diagram of Heavenly Father's Great Plan of Happiness. Things were going really well until we arrived at the three kingdoms of heaven. My little princesses are quite familiar with the concept of kingdoms, so their curiosity was really piqued at this point.

I pointed out that the only people who live with Heavenly Father and Jesus forever are those who enter the celestial kingdom. Gwen wanted to know what people have to do to get there. I kept it simple and basic - you love Jesus and Heavenly Father so much that you always try your best to make good choices and follow Them. She was beaming with a smile as she exclaimed, "I love Jesus! I make good choices!" Then I explained the terrestrial kingdom - people who love Jesus, but only enough to follow some of His commandments. Finally I mentioned the telestial kingdom - people who do not love Jesus and who spend their lives making bad choices. I emphasized once more that the only people who see Heavenly Father and are able to live forever with Him and with Jesus are those in the celestial kingdom.

Gwen's happy countenance quickly changed. She became very upset and angry. She blurted out something like, "I guess Heavenly Father is mean, and He doesn't love me when I make bad choices." I told her she was being silly and that Heavenly Father does love her. Learning about His plan was supposed to make us happy, not angry. Aubrie was completely unphased by Gwen's attitude and began drawing cute little circles of her own. She pointed to each one, saying, "This is for people with good choices. This is for people with really bad choices."

The illustrated Doctrine and Covenants Stories book was lying just a few feet away from us, so I reached over and turned to Chapter 26 - The Three Kingdoms of Heaven. I started reading it and showing the girls the pictures. Gwen interrupted, "Please stop reading that. I don't want to hear it. It's too sad." I ignored her and continued on. She became more agitated and again told me to stop. I figured she was just being grumpy and difficult so I kept reading. Suddenly she burst into tears and plead urgently, "Don't talk about that any more! I don't like it! It makes me too sad!" She climbed up on my lap and just sobbed for a while. She didn't want to tell me why the story made her sad.

I quickly put Aubrie to bed and headed into Gwen's room. I sat down beside her and asked why she was feeling sad. She answered so sincerely, "I make bad choices sometimes, so Heavenly Father can't love me." This heartfelt concern from my precious 4-year-old opened the door to an unforgettable conversation. We talked about the perfect love of our Father in Heaven and of His Son. We talked about what life would be like without Jesus and His atonement. I told Gwen about a time in my life when I felt I had made so many bad choices that God could never love me again. I explained that this is Satan's greatest lie - the one thing he wants all of Heavenly Father's children to believe. We talked about baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost. We talked about this beautiful earth created for us and why we are here.

I felt the Spirit as I shared my testimony informally with Gwen. I watched as gospel truths calmed and comforted her little, distressed spirit. Our time together ended with me singing "I'm Trying To Be Like Jesus." As I let every word of that meaningful primary song soak into my heart and mind, I watched Gwen snuggle her teddy tightly, close her eyes, and peacefully drift off to sleep.

Power of the Priesthood

2009-08-23T15:02:00.000-07:00

Early in 2003 I traveled from Rexburg, ID to Provo, UT to be interviewed for the position of EFY Counselor. The big question posed to me by the interviewers that night was this:

Using only the scriptures, how would you teach youth ages 14 to 17 about what the priesthood is and about the purpose of the priesthood?

After the two short minutes of prep time given to me, I responded with these New Testament verses, carried into my mind by the Holy Ghost:

Acts 3: 1-8

Now Peter and John went up together into the temple at the hour of prayer, being the ninth hour.

And a certain man lame from his mother's womb was carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple which is called Beautiful, to ask alms of them that entered into the temple;

Who seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple asked an alms.

And Peter, fastening his eyes upon him with John, said, Look on us.

And he gave heed unto them, expecting to receive something of them.

Then Peter said, Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk.

And he took him by the right hand, and lifted him up: and immediately his feet and ankle bones received strength.

And he leaping up stood, and walked, and entered with them into the temple, walking, and leaping, and praising God.

I concluded, "The priesthood is the power and authority to bless, serve, reach out to, and lift up others the same way Jesus Christ would if He were present."

Another verse from the Doctrine and Covenants highlights this truth, specifically as it relates to giving and receiving priesthood blessings. Jesus, speaking in verse 2 of section 36, says, "And I will lay my hand upon you by the hand of my servant ..." Individuals are personally blessed by the Savior as He communicates through the actions and words of worthy priesthood holders.

I felt this powerfully last night as my dad was giving me a Father's Blessing to prepare me for my second year of medical school. And today, as I stood in the Savior's place and used the priesthood to bless Gwen, Aubrie, and Liz in preparation for Gwen's first day of preschool, I felt His love and concern for them being expressed through me.

I am grateful for the miracle of the restored gospel which brought the priesthood back to the earth. And I am humbled to bear this marvelous and sacred power - a power which lifts and comforts and testifies of the living reality of Jesus Christ.

Workings of the Lord

2009-06-14T21:03:00.001-07:00

Today was my last time teaching elders quorum in the Mesquite Canyon ward. In less than four short weeks (just one day before I'd normally be scheduled to teach again), our family will bid farewell to the wonderful city of Mesa, Arizona, and I will leave this great calling behind. I have learned so much from these teaching experiences, and I will truly miss the opportunity to prepare and deliver these lessons each month. During the past year, the Lord has shown me more clearly how to teach by the Spirit - to basically move myself out of the way and allow the Holy Ghost to reach hearts and minds, including my own.

I have found that inspiration comes clearly and powerfully when I pray specifically to know what Heavenly Father and the Savior would have me say to the quorum. This happened to me before church this morning as I finalized my lesson preparations. I suddenly felt prompted to add a few last-minute notes to my lesson outline. Here are the words I typed:

Who here has given a blessing of healing to your wife or to your children? Are we under-appreciating this remarkable spiritual gift? Are we taking it for granted? Are we approaching it too casually or thoughtlessly? Can we improve the way we use this gift?

As I presented the lesson in elders quorum today I followed my outline very closely, many times reading notes directly from the page. Somehow, though, I failed to see or remember these particular questions. My time was quickly coming to a close so I decided to wrap up and finish the lesson. I started my concluding remarks but was stopped almost instantly when I saw a hand go up in the front row. It was my father-in-law, Dean Klingler, who was in town visiting for Gwen's fourth birthday. I could tell from his expression that there was something important he wanted to say to the group - something that moved him to seize this final opportunity to comment.

He started out by saying he's been around quite a while, so he's picked up on a few life lessons worth sharing. Then with great sincerity and emotion he said - as closely as I can recollect - the following words:

"As priesthood holders we don't use this gift enough in our homes with our family members. When our wife gets sick, or when our children get sick, we don't always take those opportunities to bless them. No one ever looks back on their life and says they gave too many blessings to their family members. But you will certainly look back and remember the many times and opportunities that you failed to bless your loved ones when you could have."

His heartfelt counsel filled me with the Spirit. In fact, the entire room seemed to be filled with the Spirit at that moment. In a manner more convincing and more powerful than I ever could have expressed, my father-in-law related the exact message I had inadvertently failed to deliver. Heavenly Father and the Savior knew that at least one person in that room - and perhaps all of them - needed to hear those specific words. And because of Their great love and concern for Their children, a way was provided. I was reminded that They will do everything in Their power to reach, inspire, bless, and improve lives in such personal and profound ways. I felt humbled and privileged to witness the kind and miraculous workings of the Lord today.

Parenting

2009-05-02T09:10:00.000-07:00

I have to admit the only time I pick up the Ensign these days is about 10 minutes before a scheduled home teaching appointment. I flip through the First Presidency message and scan it quickly for a good story, example, or quote to share with the families I visit. Not the best amount of preparation, I know. But last Sunday I discovered I was already familiar with April's message, so I knew instantly which quotes I would share.

The article was titled Teaching True Doctrine by President Henry B. Eyring, and it was essentially a repeat of the talk he gave ten years ago during the April 1999 General Conference - The Power of Teaching Doctrine. That particular General Conference was only the second one held since my EFY 1998 experience the previous August, and I hung on every word with the sincerity and real intent of a new convert (something that I've sadly struggled to maintain during subsequent sessions of General Conference). I was a month away from high school graduation with college and a mission still to come, yet the Spirit impressed me powerfully to never forget these words directed to parents:

We have the greatest opportunity with the young. The best time to teach is early, while children are still immune to the temptations of their mortal enemy and long before the words of truth may be harder for them to hear in the noise of their personal struggles.

A wise parent would never miss a chance to gather children together to learn of the doctrine of Jesus Christ. Such moments are so rare in comparison with the efforts of the enemy. For every hour the power of doctrine is introduced into a child’s life, there may be hundreds of hours of messages and images denying or ignoring the saving truths.

The question should not be whether we are too tired to prepare to teach doctrine or whether it would be better to draw a child closer by just having fun or whether the child is beginning to think that we preach too much. The question must be, “With so little time and so few opportunities, what words of doctrine from me will fortify them against the attacks on their faith which are sure to come?” The words you speak today may be the ones they remember. And today will soon be gone.

Next month will mark my fourth year as a parent, and it's so obvious to me now why these words needed to be impressed on my heart a decade ago. These truths are so vitally important for every follower of the Savior who desires to raise spiritually strong children in today's wicked and perverse world. A similar message stirred my soul during the April 2006 Priesthood Session. Again, this was only the second General Conference held since a major event had taken place in my life - Gwen's birth and my introduction to parenthood. I must have been listening closely on that occassion as well when these profound words were delivered by Elder Ronald A. Rasband:

Elder Henry B. Eyring of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, however, provides us with a somber warning, speaking of the youth:

"Many of them are remarkable in their spiritual maturity and in their faith. But even the best of them are sorely tested. And the testing will become more severe."

This warning that "the testing will become more severe" gets my attention. Our rising generation is worthy of our best efforts to support and strengthen them in their journey to adulthood. ...

We must continue to teach and fortify fathers and mothers in their divinely declared roles with their children in the home. We must ask ourselves constantly if that extra sporting event, that extra activity or errand outside of the home is more important than families being together at home. ...

When I was first called to the Seventy some years ago, we were assigned to move to Solihull, England, to serve in the Area Presidency. Sister Rasband and I took our two youngest children with us on this assignment. Our daughter was a young single adult and our son a 17-year-old who liked American-style football and played it very well. We were very concerned about them. No friends, no extended family, and no American football! I wondered, "Would this exciting new experience prove to be a serious trial for our family?"

The answer came in an early assignment I received. I had been asked to speak to the missionaries at the Missionary Training Center in Preston, England. I called President White of the center and was pleased to hear that he knew of my family situation. He suggested we include our children on our visit to Preston. Once we were there, he even invited our daughter and son to speak to the missionaries! What a thrill for them to be and feel included and share their testimonies of the Lord's work!

When finished and after tender good-byes to those missionaries, we visited the beautiful Preston England Temple, which was close to the Missionary Training Center. As we walked near the front door, there stood President and Sister Swanney, the temple president and matron. They greeted us and welcomed us into the temple with, "Elder Rasband, how would you and your family like to perform baptisms for the dead?" What a wonderful idea! We looked at each other and gratefully accepted. After performing the ordinances and while my son and I were still in the font with tears of joy in our eyes, he put his hand on my shoulder and asked, "Dad, why haven't we ever done this before?"

I thought of all the football games, all the movies we had attended together, all of the good times we had shared—certainly happy memories and traditions that are so important to build.

However, I realized we had an opportunity to add more meaningful spiritual experiences with our children like what we had experienced in Preston that day. Thanks to those caring and observant priesthood leaders, I knew then that our family was going to do fine in Europe.

Now back to my home teaching visit this past Sunday. After I shared President Eyring's inspired words and also mentioned briefly Elder Rasband's experience, I asked my assigned family how they've been able to share meaningful spiritual experiences with their children. The mother related a tender experience that she had with her oldest daughter. On the day of her daughter's twelfth birthday, this mother took her out of school and drove her to the Mesa Arizona Temple. They spent the morning doing baptisms for many deceased relatives whose names they had worked hard to find during the months leading up to this special day. This mother described the beautiful spirit that was felt on that occassion. After leaving the temple, they stopped to eat lunch somewhere. This wise and inspired mother took that opportunity to discuss what they had each felt inside the temple, the importance of that sacred place, and the personal choices and decisions that would help her daughter to remain clean and worthy to enter again and receive future temple blessings. With tears coming down, this mother finished by saying, "I remember when I turned twelve my mother took me to the store to buy make-up for the first time - which was fine and fun. But just think about the difference between those two experiences. Think of how meaningful and lasting one is compared to the other."

I was really touched by this experience and greatly struck by the beautiful simplicity of the idea. It made me realize that spiritual experiences like this are abundant and are just waiting to take place between parents and children. Discovering them simply requires a little creative effort and inspired thinking and planning on the part of understandably busy, stressed, and tired parents. My heart tells me, though, that the payoff is well worth any effort and sacrifice. I think Liz and I will definitely borrow this temple idea when Gwen turns twelve. And I'm hoping that when the day arrives, it will be at least the hundredth spiritual experience we've helped to create for her rather than the first.

Two Favorite Easter Songs

2009-04-12T08:18:00.001-07:00

Day Of Tears (Kenneth Cope - Women at the Well album)

A crown of thorns - a cross to bear
And sorrowing friends following near
Yet, He speaks through His grief
"Weep not for me"
But how can we hold back these tears

Yom tzaar - day of sorrow
Yom dmaot - day of tears
Day of tears

The tearing flesh - the trembling nerves
Some now bow in jest and mock His thirst
And still from His lips
"Father, forgive"
How could they slay their Lord

Yom tzaar - day of sorrow
Yom dmaot - day of tears
Day of tears

Now asleep - rest in peace, Jesus, Lord
With love we come to wash away where hate hath marred
But, can it be
Now we see no grave can hold Thee in
Death has an end
Thou lives again

Yom simcha - day of gladness
Yom dmaot - day of tears
Yom peley - day of wonder
Yom dmaot (simcha) - day of tears
Tears of joy

High Noon (Andrew Peterson - Love & Thunder album)

High noon in the valley of the shadow
When the deep of the valley was bright
When the mouth of the tomb
Shouted, "Glory, the Groom is alive"
So long, you wages of sin
Go on, don't you come back again
I've been raised and redeemed
You've lost all your sting
To the Victor of the battle
At high noon in the valley
In the valley of the shadow

Now the demons, they danced in the darkness
When that last ragged breath left His lungs
And they reveled and howled
At the war that they thought they had won
But then, in the dark of the grave
The stone rolled away
In the still of the dawn on the greatest of days

It was high noon in the valley of the shadow
When the shadows were shot through with light
When Jesus took in that breath
And shattered all Death with His life
So long, you wages of sin
Go on, don't you come back again
I've been raised and redeemed
You've lost all your sting
To the Victor of the battle
High noon in the valley of the shadow

Let the people rejoice
Let the heavens resound
Let the name of Jesus, who sought us
And freed us forever ring out
All praise to the Fighter of the night
Who rides on the light
Whose gun is the grace of the God of the sky

High noon in the valley of the shadow
When the shadows were shot through with light
When the mouth of the tomb
Shouted, "Glory, the Groom is alive"
So long, you wages of sin
I said go on, don't you come back again
I've been raised and redeemed
All praise to the King
The Victor of the battle
High noon in the valley
In the valley of the shadow

The Breath of Life

2009-04-11T16:03:00.001-07:00

Genesis 2:7

And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.

For the past few days Liz has been playing one of my favorite songs on the piano. It's called Breathe In Me by contemporary Christian musician Michael W. Smith. I first discovered this song when one of my favorite musicians, Kenneth Cope, included his version of it on the Hear My Praise album. It is a very moving piece of music with a simple but profound message.

You breathe in me
And I'm alive
With the power of Your holiness

You breathe in me
And You revive
Feelings in my soul that I have laid to rest

So breathe in me
I need You now
I've never felt so dead within
So breathe in me
Maybe somehow
You can breathe new life in me again

I used to be
So sensitive
To the light that leads to where You are

Now I've acquired
These callouses
With the darkness of a cold and jaded heart

So breathe in me
I need You now
I've never felt so dead within
So breathe in me
Maybe somehow
You can breathe new life in me again

The words to this song seem so carefully and meaningfully chosen. Holiness - perfect purity, sanctity, freedom from sin. Revive - restore to life, renew, bring back into use. Laid to rest - bury, place in a grave or tomb. Callouses - aspects that are emotionally hardened, toughened, and unfeeling. Jaded - dulled, broken-down, exhausted, wearied by overuse or overindulgence.

I've experienced the renewal this song speaks of many times throughout my life. Every time spiritual apathy has overcome me, every time I've willfully disregarded God and His commandments and all the promises I've made to Him, every time I've turned away from Jesus Christ for any reason, I've felt the breath of life which comes to revive and restore me. The key is in the four pleading words, "I need You now." When this realization becomes painfully apparent - at that very moment - the Savior comes to bring new life once again.

I love these words from President Howard W. Hunter:

"Jesus and those who were with him had just recrossed the Sea of Galilee, and a multitude of people who had been waiting met him on the shore near Capernaum. 'And, behold [suddenly and unexpectedly], there cometh one of the rulers of the synagogue.' ... This was a man of rank and prestige whom the Jews looked upon with great respect. ...

'And when he saw him [that is, when Jairus saw Jesus], he fell at his feet.' ...

'And [Jairus] besought him greatly, saying, My little daughter lieth at the point of death.' ... The tremor we hear in Jairus's voice as he speaks of 'My little daughter' stirs our souls with sympathy as we think of this man of high position in the synagogue on his knees before the Savior.

Then comes a great acknowledgement of faith: 'I pray thee, come and lay thy hands on her, that she may be healed; and she shall live.' These are not only the words of faith of a father torn with grief but are also a reminder to us that whatever Jesus lays his hands upon lives. If Jesus lays his hands upon a marriage, it lives. If he is allowed to lay his hands on the family, it lives. ...

It is not necessary to read the remainder of the story. When they got to the home of the ruler of the synagogue, Jesus took the little girl by the hand and raised her from the dead. In like manner, he will lift and raise every man to a new and better life who will permit the Savior to take him by the hand."

This is not merely a nice thought or a pleasant-sounding concept; it is a truth that I've experienced time and time again. His healing hands and His reviving breath are real, and they are made mercifully and lovingly available to every person. I am so grateful that Jesus Christ saves, and continues to save, all who will permit Him (and I love music that reminds me of this wonderful and beautiful truth)!

Refreshing Integrity

2009-04-02T15:23:00.000-07:00

I witnessed something that impressed me today in my morning Medical Skills class. Every Thursday this course begins with an individual readiness quiz. After all the quizzes have been turned in, they are quickly graded and then handed back for a brief moment to allow students to see their grade.

As the teacher was collecting our quizzes for the final time, one of my classmates pointed out that her quiz had been graded incorrectly - an extra point had accidentally been given to her. Our instructor burst out laughing and exclaimed, "You shouldn't have told me! You just lost a free point!" This physician-teacher openly mocked my classmate's decision without hesitation, and soon most of the other students were chuckling along. But my classmate defended her choice calmly and unabashedly, and all the laughs and smirks were soon silenced.

I thought about what I had just seen, and something remarkable occurred to me. In the countless hours of school during these past eight months, this was the first experience of personal integrity I could recall seeing. I compared that to the astounding amount of academic dishonesty I have encountered. The ratio was discouraging, to say the least. I sent this courageous student an email thanking her for the positive example she set for me and for everyone else in the room, including our instructor. It really was refreshing to be reminded that integrity - while apparently rare in some settings - is nevertheless alive and well.

Do Not Fear

2009-03-25T23:00:00.000-07:00

I feel like I've been a fairly optimistic and positive person for most of my life. But despite all of the hopeful, uplifting truths I know and the encouraging experiences I've had, I still become troubled by many things. I worry about the world my children are growing up in; I'm troubled by the destructive influences that are so overwhelmingly pervasive in our culture today. I really feel scared for them at times - anxious and unsettled about their ongoing spiritual development and their future well-being.

While thinking through these concerns a few nights ago, I remembered hearing a talk once by President Boyd K. Packer where he expressed similar fears. All I could remember about this talk was that he mentioned one of his grandsons. I went to lds.org and typed the words Packer, grandson, and fear into the search bar. The second link to pop up was the April 2004 General Conference talk entitled Do Not Fear. I eagerly read through it and found it to be even more personally applicable, reassuring, and insightful than it was when I first heard it almost five years ago. Here are some of my favorite parts:

A few weeks ago our youngest son and his wife and family stopped to see us. The first one out of the car was our two-year-old grandson. He came running to me with his arms outstretched, shouting, "Gwampa! Gwampa! Gwampa!"

He hugged my legs, and I looked down at that smiling face and those big, innocent eyes and thought, "What kind of a world awaits him?"

For a moment I had that feeling of anxiety, that fear of the future that so many parents express to us. Everywhere we go fathers and mothers worry about the future of their children in this very troubled world.

But then a feeling of assurance came over me. My fear of the future faded.

That guiding, comforting Spirit, with which we in the Church are so familiar, brought to my remembrance what I already knew. The fear of the future was gone. That bright-eyed, little two-year-old can have a good life—a very good life—and so can his children and his grandchildren, even though they will live in a world where there is much of wickedness.

They will see many events transpire in the course of their lifetime. Some of these shall tax their courage and extend their faith. But if they seek prayerfully for help and guidance, they shall be given power over adverse things. Such trials shall not be permitted to stand in the way of their progress, but instead shall act as stepping-stones to greater knowledge. ...

We do not fear the future for ourselves or for our children. We live in dangerously troubled times. The values that steadied mankind in earlier times are being tossed away. ...

The moral values upon which civilization itself must depend spiral downward at an ever-increasing pace. Nevertheless, I do not fear the future. ...

Parents now are concerned about the moral and spiritual diseases. These can have terrible complications when standards and values are abandoned. We must all take protective measures.

With the proper serum, the physical body is protected against disease. We can also protect our children from moral and spiritual diseases.

The word inoculate has two parts: in —"to be within"—and oculate means "eye to see."

When children are baptized and confirmed, we place an eye within them —the unspeakable gift of the Holy Ghost. With the Restoration of the gospel came authority to confer this gift. ...

If you will accept it in your mind and cradle it in your feelings, a knowledge of the restored gospel and a testimony of Jesus Christ can spiritually immunize your children.

One thing is very clear: the safest place and the best protection against the moral and spiritual diseases is a stable home and family. This has always been true; it will be true forever. We must keep that foremost in our minds. ...

Our young people in many ways are much stronger and better than we were. They and we should not be afraid of what is ahead.

Encourage our young people. They need not live in fear. Fear is the opposite of faith.

While we cannot erase wickedness, we can produce young Latter-day Saints who, spiritually nourished, are immunized against evil influences.

As a grandfather who has lived a long time, I counsel you to have faith. Things have a way of working out. Stay close to the Church. Keep your children close to the Church. ...

The Lord Himself encouraged, "Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you; and ye shall bear record of me, even Jesus Christ, that I am the Son of the living God, that I was, that I am, and that I am to come." In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I love the words of modern day Prophets and Apostles. I know they teach the truth - plainly and simply. I know that their messages are inspired by a concerned and loving Father in Heaven who is keenly aware of what His children are struggling with here on earth. I feel peace and assurance in my heart when I hear and read their messages. And in my mind I receive a clearer picture of the course I need to pursue in life.

The scripture below loosely ties into this theme of being troubled. I thought it might make a suitable ending to this post.

Alma 42:29

"And now, my son, I desire that ye should let these things trouble you no more, and only let your sins trouble you, with that trouble which shall bring you down unto repentance."

My new long-term, lofty goal - less worrying about the uncertain conditions of the future, and more worrying about my present spiritual condition.

Gwen's Good Memory

2009-03-17T12:52:00.000-07:00

Last night after dinner I asked Gwen to help me give the Family Home Evening lesson. To my surprise, she willingly started teaching Grandma Klingler and the rest of us (simple principles, like Heavenly Father wants us all to be good and make good choices, etc.). When she had finished rambling off her cute little list, I tried to keep the discussion going with a few follow-up questions.

I asked something to the effect of, "When we're in trouble, what does Jesus do?" Obviously, I was fishing for a simple response like, "He helps us." Without even pausing, Gwen answered, "He makes all the animals dead." I looked more closely at her face. She wasn't wearing the mischievous little grin that usually accompanies her inappropriate or silly remarks. She was being completely serious. We tried to have her clarify, but she repeated essentially the same answer - "Jesus makes the animals dead."

Fortunately - at this point of confusion and concern - something clicked in my brain. I remembered that just a few nights earlier our bedtime scripture reading had come from Chapter 16, The Prophet Moses, in the Church's illustrated Old Testament Stories. We read about Moses leaving Egypt. The story continued, "Jesus Christ spoke to Moses from the bush. Jesus knew that the Israelites were not happy. He did not want them to be slaves." Next, we read about the ten plagues that were sent to Pharaoh to persuade him to let the Israelites go. Based on the picture, can you guess what the fifth plague was?

I looked back at the story to see exactly what it said at this point. It read, "Moses said that Jesus would make the Egyptians' animals die. Soon their animals died."

It's amazing how little I think my kids are paying attention or listening to me, especially during the daily routines like scripture reading. Even more amazing is how much their little minds actually do absorb and retain. I think what impresses me the most is that Gwen remembered not only the details of this event, but also its context. Jesus did this for a reason - to help people who were in trouble. So Gwen's response to my question, as bizarre and odd as it seemed, was absolutely correct. And now I have a good idea for next week's FHE lesson. It will focus on all the animals Jesus spared when He told Noah to put them in the ark. :)

Life Lessons

2009-03-15T19:48:00.000-07:00

Liz mentioned yesterday in our family blog that Gwen inadvertently locked us all out of the house. Fortunately, the problem was resolved fairly quickly. I keep thinking back to it, though, and two aspects in particular have really stuck with me.

First, I reflect on the contrasting emotions I witnessed in Gwen - just three months shy of her fourth birthday. I don't know what possessed her to leave the backyard for a split second, go into the house, turn the lock on the door handle, and immediately return to the backyard, closing the now-locked door behind her. We were understandably frustrated by this, and we expressed our feelings to Gwen in stern, unmistakable terms. Her childlike remorse came deeply and readily as she began to grasp the consequences of her little mistake. When Grandma Klingler discovered that the small window over our kitchen sink was miraculously unlocked, an attempt was made to hoist Gwen up and through the lofty opening. She was scared and refused to go at first. We urged her on and encouraged her, "Gwen, you can make this right. You can do this. We won't let you fall." Her countenance changed in an instant, and you could see this look of determination form on her face. She let go of my hand and slowly worked her way past the kitchen sink, lowering herself carefully from the high countertop down to the floor. Seconds later, we were all back inside the house, rejoicing together and praising Gwen for her tremendous courage and bravery. We told her she was our hero. Gwen was just beaming with excitement, joy, and happiness. She was so proud of herself.

I'm convinced that the remorse Gwen felt motivated her and helped her decide to be brave and strong. A simple principle was demonstrated yesterday: real courage is required to right one's wrongs. I thought of the blessings connected to the worthwhile but difficult undertaking of correcting a mistake - instant joy and welcomed relief. Alma the younger and the four sons of Mosiah came to mind. Their mistakes and poor choices resulted in many dire and destructive consequences for others. After their powerful, transforming conversion they traveled throughout the land "zealously striving to repair all the injuries which they had done." (Mosiah 27:35) It's not easy for people to admit when they're wrong, and it's even harder to go one step further by trying to undue the negative effects of one's words and actions. But it's possible, even for a small child, t0 succeed in this courageous endeavor. Mormon wisely and encouragingly points out, "And how blessed are they!" (Mosiah 27:37)

The second part of yesterday's experience that really stands out to me is the range of emotions I personally experienced. Realizing that every door to the house was locked. Discovering that every key I possessed lay within those walls, far from reach. Remembering that every window was tightly shut and secured (or so I believed at the time). Finding out that my cell phone was also trapped inside the home. It all caused me to feel so frustratingly helpless. I felt completely stuck and horribly powerless to correct or improve the situation for myself or for my family members. I needed help urgently. The sun would soon be setting. Stomachs would soon be growling with hunger. Children would soon be panicking and crying. I needed saving. I needed rescuing. I needed someone to free us from this undesirable situation.

I thought of the mission of Jesus Christ and of His great role in the Father's plan of salvation. He is the Savior - the only One with the power and ability to save individuals from the consequences of their sins. In a way, sinning is similar to getting locked out of the house. An impassable barrier is created, trapping the desperate child outside the walls of his heavenly home. The sinner is powerless to free himself from this fate and overcome this hindering obstacle. He needs saving. He needs rescuing. He needs One to free him and unlock the door.

Alma 42:12, 14

"And now, there was no means to reclaim men from this fallen state, which man had brought upon himself because of his own disobedience; ...

And thus we see that all mankind were fallen, and they were in the grasp of justice; yea, the justice of God, which consigned them forever to be cut off from his presence."

2 Nephi 2:8

"Wherefore, how great the importance to make these things known unto the inhabitants of the earth, that they may know that there is no flesh that can dwell in the presence of God, save it be through the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah, who layeth down his life ..."

Christ willingly laid down His life for all mankind, and suddenly a way back into God's presence - our heavenly home - was created.

Hymn #174

For us the blood of Christ was shed;
For us on Calvary's cross he bled
And thus dispelled the awful gloom
That else were this creation's doom.

The law was broken; Jesus died
That justice might be satisfied,
That man might not remain a slave
Of death, of hell, or of the grave,

But rise triumphant from the tomb,
And in eternal splendor bloom,
Freed from the pow'r of death and pain,
With Christ, the Lord, to rule and reign.

Hymn #194

There is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord was crucified,
Who died to save us all.

We may not know, we cannot tell,
What pains he had to bear,
But we believe it was for us
He hung and suffered there.

There was no other good enough
To pay the price of sin.
He only could unlock the gate
Of heav'n and let us in.

Oh, dearly, dearly has he loved!
And we must love him too,
And trust in his redeeming blood,
And try his works to do.

I am grateful that the Savior, Jesus Christ, unlocked the gate by giving His life for all. I rejoice in the merciful and rescuing atonement, carried out lovingly "for us." I am humbled by the courage and the bravery He showed when He willingly righted the infinite wrongs of others, including my own. He stands as the greatest and truest hero. Loving Him, trusting Him, and trying to do His works demonstrates gratitude and prepares one for that anticipated moment when He will eagerly "let us in" to our heavenly home once again - to return to the presence of our loving Father.

Four Poems

2009-03-15T16:25:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if there's one clear theme that connects these four poems together. In my own mind, they're all grouped together under the category of Poems I Really Like. They floated back into my mind one by one this morning as I was getting ready for church.

"Man-Making" by Edwin Markham

We are all blind, until we see
That in the human plan
Nothing is worth the making if
It does not make the man.

Why build these cities glorious,
If man unbuilded goes?
In vain we build the world, unless
The builder also grows.

Author unknown

All the water in the world,
However hard it tried,
Could never sink the smallest ship
Unless it gets inside.

And all the evil in the world,
The blackest kind of sin,
Can never hurt you the least bit
Unless you let it in.

"My Kingdom" by Louisa May Alcott

A little kingdom I possess
Where thoughts and feelings dwell,
And very hard I find the task
Of governing it well;

For passion tempts and troubles me,
A wayward will misleads,
And selfishness its shadow casts
On all my words and deeds.

How can I learn to rule myself,
To be the child I should,
Honest and brave, nor ever tire
Of trying to be good?

How can I keep a sunny soul
To shine along life's way?
How can I tune my little heart
To sweetly sing all day?

Dear Father, help me with the love
That castest out my fear;
Teach me to lean on thee, and feel
That thou art very near,

That no temptation is unseen
No childish grief too small,
Since thou, with patience infinite,
Doth soothe and comfort all.

I do not ask for any crown
But that which all may win
Nor seek to conquer any world
Except the one within.

Be thou my guide until I find,
Led by a tender hand,
Thy happy kingdom in myself
And dare to take command.

"The Touch of the Master's Hand" by Myra Brooks Welch

'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile:
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar"; then, "Two!" "Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?
Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three -" But no,
From the room, far back, a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,
And going, and gone!" said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand
What changed its worth." Swift came the reply:
"The touch of a master's hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,
A game - and he travels on.
He's "going" once, and "going" twice,
He's "going" and almost "gone."
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.

At The Very Time

2009-03-12T23:41:00.000-07:00

I mentioned a few posts ago that the Lord understands human nature perfectly. Another vivid and personal example of this came to me tonight.

Helaman 12: 1-2

"And thus we can behold how false, and also the unsteadiness of the hearts of the children of men; yea, we can see that the Lord in his great infinite goodness doth bless and prosper those who put their trust in him.

Yea, and we may see at the very time when he doth prosper his people, yea, in the increase of their fields, their flocks and their herds, and in gold, and in silver, and in all manner of precious things of every kind and art; sparing their lives, and delivering them out of the hands of their enemies; softening the hearts of their enemies that they should not declare wars against them; yea, and in fine, doing all things for the welfare and happiness of his people; yea, then is the time that they do harden their hearts, and do forget the Lord their God, and do trample under their feet the Holy One - yea, and this because of their ease, and their exceedingly great prosperity."

I received an unexpected email at 4:57 pm yesterday from the Curriculum Coordinator at my school. The subject read, "Note about anatomy score." My heart sank. Was she telling me I failed and I need to set up a remediation? I felt pretty confident when I walked out of the exam Monday night; could I really have done that bad? I opened the email and - to my great surprise and relief - learned that I had answered every question correct including the one extra credit question. I scored 101%.

I felt relieved. I felt happy. I felt excited. I shared the news eagerly with Liz. At school today, I successfully avoided the topic of exam scores until I ran into the assistant anatomy instructor in the hallway. In front of numerous classmates, he loudly announced my score. I felt a weird mixture of embarrassment and pride. I maintained my mellow composure outwardly, but I could see that many of my peers were impressed. I soaked up the attention and reveled for a few moments in the false belief that this was my great accomplishment.

Tonight - just a few short minutes ago - at 11:27 pm the thought crossed my mind, "Did you remember to thank the Lord for His help on that exam? Did you thank Him for the score you received?" I reflected on my attitude and actions during exam day. I was very subdued and prayerful. My heartfelt desires, supplications, appeals, and petitions traveled heavenward all throughout that day. I begged for divine assistance and support just moments before entering the anatomy exam room. I plead for help to correctly recall and identify the numerous complex, intricate structures I had learned during the preceding six weeks. I was comforted and calmed as I entered that room. Those feelings remained throughout the entire duration of the test. I left with an inner peace and confidence, knowing that I had been strengthened and sustained.

So, why did I fail to offer a simple "Thank You" that Monday night? Why did I still withhold this gratitude two days latter, even after the wonderful news had arrived in my inbox? Why did I forget Him so quickly at the very time that I was blessed and prospered? It's because my heart is distressingly unsteady. It's a truth I want to become more and more aware of and more often reminded of. And maybe next time, the vivid recognition of His kind support and the overwhelming surge of gratitude and thanksgiving will come before 11:27 pm - three nights after the fact.

Included below are the lyrics to a song entitled "Thank You." It was written specifically for youth, but its message applies powerfully to any age. I haven't heard this song in many years, but the lyrics floated back into my mind tonight while I was working on this post. They are welcomed words indeed.

THANK YOU

Tonight I kneel before You, Lord, at the end of my day.
I've been taught how to pray, how to ask in God's name;
But, tonight there's more for me to say.

Thank You for walking by my side; I felt you there leading me along.
And at school when someone asked me for answers from my test
I said, "no," because You helped me to be strong.

And when my friends said, "Hey, it's not that bad a show,"
I could hear You whispering, "don't go."
And remember today when the kids in the hall were teasing and laughing at the new girl?
I would have walked right by so I wouldn't see her cry;
But, You beckoned, "Go, and take her side."

So thank You for giving me the strength to stand up for someone who was hurting.
When I'm helping another, when I give with my heart, You teach me it's You that I am serving.

And from the moment I stepped foot outside my door
You kept me safe just like You've done so many times before.
Thank You.

Thank You for my family, for clothes to wear and food to eat,
for the beauty of the earth and of the sky.
Thank You for the little things, for miracles, for joy and pain.
Thank You, Lord, for every breath I take.

Well I guess that's all, and I'll say goodnight; we'll talk again in the morning.
I just wanted You to know that for all the love You show me -
Thank You.
Oh, thank You.

Uplifted

2009-03-11T21:07:00.000-07:00

I like the word uplifted. I like how this little adjective is inherently and meaningfully redundant in a way. More than the word itself, I like experiencing the condition it describes - whether it's brought about by something I witness, feel, read, or listen to. This afternoon I read an article that left me feeling refreshingly uplifted.

For the past few years, I've been receiving emails from Smart Marriages: The Coalition for Marriage, Family and Couples Education. Today's email led me to a recent article from The New York Times. I want to remember this article and the impression it left on me. I want my children to know that I was touched, moved, and lifted up by this remarkable story.

March 8, 2009

Modern Love

In a Charmed Life, a Road Less Traveled

By LAYNG MARTINE Jr.

MY wife and I were in a motel in Roanoke, Va., on our way home from three months at the Hershey Medical Center in Pennsylvania, where she had been convalescing after being crippled in a car accident. It was our first night away from the skill and comfort of the nurses we had come to depend on, and so far, so good.

Then we woke up and smelled something. It smelled like a bowel movement. I lifted up the sheets. It was a bowel movement, and it was in our bed.

We knew we had a lot to learn, but we had no idea how much.

Hearing the word paraplegic had made us focus on the big thing, the fact that Linda could no longer walk. Less anticipated were the smaller humiliations and inconveniences, like bowel movements in bed or on the way to a party, sores that came out of nowhere and took months or years to heal, and inaccessible restroom stalls that caused Linda to have to catheterize herself in the public area where people were washing their hands and talking.

And on it went, the list of indignities. She couldn’t watch “Good Morning America” if the remote fell off the bed when she reached for her glasses. She wet the seat on airplanes and in friends’ cars. She could no longer feel sexual intercourse (and the powerful muscle spasms in her legs threatened to crush anyone who tried).

But we’ve learned, and adapted. Now we know the places with good handicapped-access bathrooms (Starbucks), which airline makes things easiest (Southwest), which cities have smooth curb cuts (San Francisco), and which movie theaters don’t make us sit four feet from the screen.

Anyone who is in love is living a charmed life, especially if you’ve been in love for many years, through good times and bad. I have been crazy about Linda since the first time I saw her. We always felt we could handle any challenge because we were facing it together. This time we knew we had the will, but the demands were so exhausting, the changes so pervasive, that sometimes we wondered how we would cope.

This incredibly capable woman who loved to hike mountains, ride waves, and run marathons, who had cleared our sizable backyard of eight-foot-high brambles and helped me move all our furniture into three houses, suddenly couldn’t do any of those things, ever again.

Not long after getting home from the hospital, when we were having dinner by candlelight at our kitchen table, she burst into tears. “I don’t know if I can do this for the rest of my life,” she said.

All I could say was, “We’ll do it together.”

We began to think of what we could do to replace playing tennis, walking on the beach, working in the garden. Since Linda loves the ocean, a friend found a specially designed beach chair made of PVC tubing with wide inflated tires that allow it to be pushed across the sand. It’s yellow and white with a big red umbrella.

The first time I saw Linda sitting atop those tubes and under the red umbrella, I told her she looked like Ronald McDonald’s homecoming queen.

She laughed like crazy, then repeated it to everyone she knew.

A few summers later, one of our three sons suggested that he and I get on either side of the chair, slide Linda off, carry her into the ocean and drop her just beyond the waves so she could float calmly behind the crashing breakers.

At first we put her in a life preserver, but she tipped over and couldn’t right herself. So we took it off, and to our surprise she bobbed peacefully, looking once again like every other person lolling in the sea on a summer day.

You know those great old stores on Newbury Street in Boston with five or six steps up to each one? At first we could get up only about three of those a day. Now we can do every single store, one right after the other, all day long. My arms and my back are stronger — so are Linda’s — and there’s a rhythm to our teamwork that’s become second nature to us.

We take many more drives now, preferably in our convertible, looking for pretty roads and funky hamburger places, especially ’50s-style drive-ins where they bring the food to our car. Before the car even moves an inch, though, Linda has to put on her seat belt, because even a semi-sudden stop at low speed will whap her face against the dashboard as if she’s a spring-loaded bobblehead. She has no stomach muscles. Her body works only from the chest up.

I remember the day we had to tell her that. She was in the I.C.U., tubes all over, machines and screens whirring and blinking, traces of dried blood in her gnarled hair. The doctor and I stood on either side of her bed.

“Linda,” he said, “this accident you were in was a rough one.”

“I can tell,” she said, her words warped by the breathing tube.

“At the moment your legs do not move.”

She looked at him. “Will they?”

“I doubt it.”

Her eyes shifted over to me. I squeezed her hand gently.

After the doctor left, tears filled her eyes. “It was all too perfect,” she said, “wasn’t it?”

And it did seem that way. It always had.

My first glimpse of her was through the screen door of her house; I’d gone there to see her brother. She was 21, and I was 22. She looked adorable in her orange dress, and I thought, “If that girl will have anything to do with me, that’s it.”

We married soon after.

We settled in Nashville, where I was an aspiring songwriter. A decade later we were able to buy a summer house on a harbor in Rhode Island. That’s where we were going when the accident happened. We had been traveling in two cars when something went wrong with mine and we stopped in Knoxville at a repair shop. Linda was wearing a blue and white seersucker dress as she and our youngest son, Mac, who was 15, walked to her car. It was the last time I would ever see her walk. As they pulled away, she called out, “See you in a few hours!” and blew a kiss.

I blew one back.

We planned to meet up later at a motel in Allentown.

Have you ever come upon a traffic jam on the Interstate and looked for an exit to try your luck on the back roads? That’s what I did the night of Linda’s accident. I drove right by my family without even knowing it. I bet I wasn’t more than 100 feet away.

It was late. I was impatient. Traffic was stopped in both directions. Finally I managed to move to the shoulder and scoot along to an exit, where I found an empty frontage road running parallel to the highway.

Barely onto it, I saw a cluster of blinking blue lights in the distance. Wow, what happened? I wondered if Linda and Mac were already at the motel, or if they were also stuck in this jam. Then I thought: Could they be in that accident? But wait — of course not. They were way ahead.

A while later I stopped at a diner, where I found a pay phone and dialed the motel. When I asked for the Martine room, the desk clerk said, “There’s someone on the other line calling for Martine, too.”

“Who?”

“Someone from the hospital in Hershey.”

“Can you connect me?”

“No, but they gave me their number.”

I hung up and redialed, my face hot. The woman who answered identified herself as the hospital chaplain. She said my family had been in an accident.

“Are they all right?”

She put the doctor on, who told me that my son was O.K. My wife, however, was a different story.

I listened as he described her condition, then asked, “Can she think?”

“Yes. Her brain is fine.”

And that’s when I knew we could do it, long before I had any idea what “it” was.

Now, 15 years later, we do know.

We know that most people — strangers, anywhere — will knock themselves out to help us if we explain what we need. We know to say “Yes” to nearly everything because there is probably a way to do it. We know there is happiness available every day, most of it requiring more effort than money. And effort seems like a small price to pay for a day at the beach, a trip to New York or for dinner up eight steps to a friend’s home.

A few months after the accident, Linda started driving again. Her car has hand controls. She thinks nothing of driving to visit her father two hours away by herself. She has rolled three marathons — yes, a full 26-plus miles in a racing wheelchair.

And now, so long since that fateful night, looking across the dinner table at my wife, or seeing her across the room at a party, the hopeless crush I have on her is as wonderfully out of control as when I first saw her more than four decades ago through the screen door. I still get excited after work when I pull in the driveway and know that I’ll soon get to see the sexy, beautiful, very funny person I live with. And, later on, snuggle up to her in bed.

We’ve rolled up and down the hills of Tuscany, squeezed into pubs in Ireland, explored narrow streets in Paris and Rome, gone to Red Sox games, had coffee in the sunshine in San Francisco, Portland, Chicago and Miami. And we’ve learned that alongside great loss we can still have a great life. We want it so badly, and we love it so much.

At sunset, as we sit on the deck of our house in Rhode Island in our side-by-side chairs — mine Adirondack-style, hers on wheels — we look across the water at Fishers Island and think we are as lucky as two people can be.

We don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or who will live how long. But we were young together. We struggled to make a life. We raised three great sons. We’ve each been the caregiver and the cared-for, and I suspect that we each have a little more of both in our future.

We are two, but we are one. And I love those numbers.

Layng Martine Jr. is a songwriter in Nashville.

Stubborn Slothfulness

2009-03-10T15:43:00.000-07:00

A lot of my thoughts recently have centered around my own stubborn slothfulness, which I refer to as my very strong tendency to be lazy. I've carried this trait with me for a while now. I've even fostered it and encouraged it many times throughout my life. My wise and forthright mother has mentioned to me once or twice, "Brian, even as a child you always put the most effort into getting out of work." Perhaps I enjoyed the challenge of devising some creative plan or some brilliant scheme for getting out of my chores, responsibilities, etc. I really can't say for sure how it happened. All I know is that this characteristic has plagued me - repeatedly and victoriously - for far too long. It bothers me because it impedes my progress toward many worthwhile goals.

Yesterday was a full day of cardiology exams. I have had six full weeks to learn the material and prepare for these tests. The formula for success in medical school is similar to the formula for success in most aspects of life. Personal desire, setting goals, prioritizing, budgeting time, and most importantly, making a consistent and sincere effort (sincere, in this case, meaning free from excuse-making and rationalization). Every time exams come around, I am painfully reminded of where I fall short. It's never in the desire or goal-setting areas. It's always in the areas of hard work and personal effort. Flashback to another mom memory. Standing before her sometime during high school, I listen as she expresses deep disappointment in my choices and my behavior with the simple words "you're choosing to be less than you are, and to do less than you're capable of." Those needed words still resonate in my heart with singeing, convicting power. And that's exactly why my own slothfulness gets under my skin and upsets me so much. It stands between my current level of effort and the level I know I'm capable of reaching.

I know this weakness played a role in my decision to leave dental school. It was not the only factor, but it definitely played a part. When I started my new program here in Arizona, I felt confident that these issues were all behind me. But the only things that really changed were external. I failed to adequately face the issue within myself. Thinking about this, I remembered a passage from The Miracle of Forgiveness. It's about divorce, not academic programs, but its truthful principles came back so forcibly to my mind and heart. President Kimball is quoting here from a letter he wrote to a young couple, and I've highlighted all the parts that stand out to me.

"The escapist never escapes. If two people, selfish and self-centered, and without the spirit of forgiveness, escape from each other, they cannot escape from themselves. The disease is not cured by the separation or the divorce, and it will most assuredly follow along in the wake of future marriages. The cause must be removed. Being young, both of you are likely to marry again. Each of you is likely to carry into the next marriage all the weaknesses and sins and errors you have now, unless you repent and transform. And if you will change your life for a new spouse, why not for the present one? ...

Now, my beloved friends ... the matter is in your hands - you may do as you please, but I warn you that the trouble is deeper than you realize, and not easily resolved by divorce. And I warn you also that, either separated or living together, you will be damaged and cankered and poisoned and dwarfed by bitterness and hatreds and loathings. The first need is to master yourselves."

Just before bed last night, I finished my reading of Alma, chapter 37. Sixteen words jumped out at me from the beginning of verse 36.

O my son, do not let us be slothful because of the easiness of the way

The Lord understands human nature more than any human. When a solution to a personal problem or an answer to a perplexing question is staring one right in the face - obvious, reachable, even easy - that is when the temptation to be lazy can often be the greatest (at least for me). I know what I need to do to succeed in medical school and to reach graduation with little to no regrets. The choices I need to make are simple, straightforward, attainable, and in every way very easy. "It's so easy I can safely put it off for a while," I think to myself. Or I'm tempted to believe the solution is so easy I can approach it with merely a halfhearted effort. What ends up happening? Test day arrives. Procrastination has once again trumped preparation. And the halfhearted approach is found to be severely lacking. The verse quoted above reminded me of another concise but powerful scripture, coincidentally located in the same chapter, verse 6.

Now ye may suppose that this is foolishness in me; but behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass

Greatness and "great things" are well within reach if I'm willing to sacrifice my persistent laziness and get to work doing the mercifully small, simple, and easy things. I'm confident that with the Savior's help I will eventually overcome what Nephi aptly called "the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me."

Great-Great-Great Grandfather Appreciation

2009-03-08T23:01:00.000-07:00

Today I taught the lesson about apostasy during Elder's Quorum. Here are a few quotes from the introduction:

"As that year [1837] wore on, a spirit of apostasy grew among some of the Saints in Kirtland. Some members became proud, greedy, and disobedient to the commandments. ... As many as two or three hundred members fell away from the Church in Kirtland, sometimes joining with those who opposed the Church to torment and even physically threaten the Saints. Some apostates openly claimed that the Prophet [Joseph Smith] was fallen and tried to have other men put in his place. ...

Of the Church’s situation in May 1837, the Prophet lamented: 'It seemed as though all the powers of earth and hell were combining their influence in an especial manner to overthrow the Church at once. … The enemy abroad, and apostates in our midst, united in their schemes, … and many became disaffected toward me as though I were the sole cause of those very evils I was most strenuously striving against.'"

It's hard to imagine the emotions Joseph Smith experienced during this time as some of his closest friends and most faithful supporters were openly, vigorously turning against him. Thinking about this last night, I remembered the experience of my great-great-great grandfather, Parley P. Pratt, who was present in Kirtland, Ohio during this chaotic time. From Parley's autobiography:

"About this time, after I had returned from Canada, there were jarrings and discords in the Church at Kirtland, and many fell away and became enemies and apostates. There were also envyings, lyings, strifes and divisions, which caused much trouble and sorrow. By such spirits I was also accused, misrepresented and abused. And at one time, I also was overcome by the same spirit in a great measure, and it seemed as if the very powers of darkness which war against the Saints were let loose upon me. But the Lord knew my faith, my zeal, my integrity of purpose, and he gave me the victory.

I went to brother Joseph Smith in tears, and, with a broken heart and contrite spirit, confessed wherein I had erred in spirit, murmured, or done or said amiss. He frankly forgave me, prayed for me and blessed me. Thus, by experience, I learned more fully to discern and to contrast the two spirits, and to resist the one and cleave to the other."

I feel two things when I read this. First, I'm touched by the way Joseph Smith responded to my ancestor's apology. No holding onto grudges, no "I'm going to need some time to think about this, Parley." Not even close. Forgiveness, prayer, and a blessing immediately to one who had taken part in criticizing and complaining against the Prophet. Second, I feel overwhelmingly grateful to my great-great-great grandfather. "Thank you" doesn't cut it in this instance. He had a choice to make during that confusing and difficult time. There were hundreds of other Saints facing the same decision who ultimately chose to leave the fold. Blaming others, ignoring one's former promises and commitments, and forgetting about God by far would have been the easier path. But Parley instead chose to do that which is so often too hard for the rest of us. He accepted responsibility for his misdeeds, resolved to correct his mistakes, and found the humility to approach Joseph Smith with a sincere apology. That one simple choice kept him on the path of faithfulness and loyalty to the Church. I am blessed - almost 172 years later - because he chose humility and repentance. Parley stayed true, at that moment and throughout his life. His son, Helaman, stayed true. Helaman's son, Emerson, likewise stayed true. And what of Emerson's daughter, Marjorie? Well, I just spoke to her two weeks ago, and she's as strong and true as anyone could hope their Grandmother to be. I pray now that "my faith, my zeal, my integrity of purpose" can somehow measure up. Thank you Parley.

My Life Story - Part One

2009-03-01T10:55:00.000-08:00

The song I mentioned in the last post speaks so profoundly to me because it helps me remember defining moments in my life. The lyrics tell the author's personal story and not my own, of course; but many significant parallels are drawn, and I'm left reflecting on the past 28 years with gratitude and wonder. Simply put - it helps me remember why I am the person that I am.

I was a boy, just nine years old, I heard the call and came.
They buried me beneath the water, then I rose again.
Well, you know my dad was a preacher man....
He said, "Son, just do the best you can,..."

My life: birth - baptism. Understandably, I have few defining memories from birth to age eight. I'm sure they were plentiful, but I just can't recall things very well that far back. But I do remember some details surrounding my baptism. I remember my parents letting me choose the location. I could be baptized in Bakersfield, CA with the attendance and support of our local congregation. Or I could travel to Arizona and be baptized in an unfamiliar chapel, but surrounded by many aunts, uncles, cousins, and my grandmothers who lived nearby. I choose the latter, just as my older sister had done two years earlier. My father (a "preacher man" in numerous ways) was able to interview me before I was baptized because he happened to be Bishop at the time. It felt appropriate and comfortable to have my dad asking me questions about this important step in life, like if I understood what it meant, and if it was something I wanted to do. I remember feeling excited to have this experience and receive this ordinance, though my understanding of its importance and of what I was committing to was admittedly limited at that time. It was just over a decade later when - as a missionary teaching others and preparing them for baptism - a phrase from Doc. & Cov. 20:37 really struck me. This verse lists the prerequisites for baptism and includes these nine words - "having a determination to serve him to the end." At age eight my desire to serve Jesus Christ obviously fell short of this type of determination, but the desire was there, innocent and inexperienced as it may have been.

I remember standing next to my dad in the chapel bathroom just minutes before my baptism. We were both dressed all in white, and I had butterflies in my stomach. I remember him going over the process with me, showing me carefully how to hold onto his arm, and rehearsing with me when I should bend my knees, plug my nose, and allow him to lower me completely beneath the water. After the baptism was performed, my father confirmed me. I felt overwhelmingly loved and supported. I felt in my heart that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were pleased with my decision and were smiling down on me. I was full of childlike happiness and contentment. Appropriately enough, the words which perfectly capture the emotions of that youthful day are found in the Children's Songbook.

When I Am Baptized - #103

I like to look for rainbows whenever there is rain
And ponder on the beauty of an earth made clean again.
I want my life to be as clean as earth right after rain.
I want to be the best I can and live with God again.

I know when I am baptized my wrongs are washed away,
And I can be forgiven and improve myself each day.
I want my life to be as clean as earth right after rain.
I want to be the best I can and live with God again.

What is another way of expressing "I want to be the best I can?" One possibility: "I am determined to serve Jesus Christ to the end of my life." He alone lived a perfect, sinless life and thereby set the standard for "the best" one could ever hope to achieve. And aiming to serve Him - to live one's life the way He lived His - will ultimately lead to the desired conclusion of living "with God again."

My baptism was the first spiritual step I took in life (that I can discern and remember to any degree). The concepts of being cleansed, of having wrongs washed away, of forgiveness and daily improvement, and especially of longing to live with God again would all too quickly fade during the subsequent years of my youth. But they would eventually return to bless and shape my life, thanks to the divine mercy and providence of God and His Son, and the guidance of loving parents whose gentle and encouraging expectation of me has always been - "Son, just do the best you can."

Final note - I spoke to my dad on the phone tonight about my baptism, mostly to double-check some of the finer details. He had only one memory to share from that day. My mom (he claims) forgot to remind him to bring the towels, so I guess we had to air-dry in the bathroom together before changing back into our church clothes. No memories of that for me; I was probably too happy to mind! :)

An Introduction

2009-02-28T19:01:00.000-08:00

I've been wanting to start my own blog for some time now. The majority of my posts on our family blog always seemed a little out of place to me - like they didn't quite fit the tone or the overall feeling of the blog. I realized it was keeping me from sharing things I wanted to express. So, sadly enough, many thoughts, feelings, and experiences that were important to me went unwritten. I'm hopeful that this new blog will serve as a better, more appropriate forum in which to share my personal viewpoint on life and my daily experiences. My purpose in writing is to give readers, especially my children, a better understanding of who I am and why I choose to live my life a certain way.

Allow me to introduce the name of the blog. This name actually belongs to a song I discovered recently. After being touched by the song's message many times, the simplicity of its title suddenly impressed me. I guess I'm still impressed with it because I decided to steal it word for word (hopefully that's legal).

Here are the lyrics to The Good Confession (I Believe) -

I was a boy, just nine years old, I heard the call and came.
They buried me beneath the water, then I rose again.
Well, you know my dad was a preacher man.
I walked the aisle and I took his hand.
He said, "Son, just do the best you can, and say the words,
'I believe he is the Christ, the Son of the living God.'"

Through the years I barely fell; I mostly dove right in.
I drank so deep from the shallow well only to thirst again.
Well, I sang the hymns at the summer camp,
then I rocked and rolled with a lousy band
till I heard a song that took my hand and led me home.
And I believe he is the Christ, Son of the living God.

All I know is that I was blind but now I see
that though I kick and scream, Love is leading me.
And every step of the way his grace is making me;
with every breath I breathe, he is saving me.
And I believe.

So when my body's weak and the day is long,
when I feel my faith is all but gone,
I'll remember when I sing this song that I believe.
I believe he is the Christ, Son of the living God, my Lord, my Savior.
Oh, Hosanna, I believe.

Click here if you're interested in hearing the actual song. The link will take you to a podcast where the artist, Andrew Peterson, explains each song on his newest album before sharing clips of the music. Feel free to enjoy the whole podcast if you have the time and desire, or just fast forward to the very last song, The Good Confession (I Believe), to gain some insight into the lyrics and hear the song in its entirety.

That's it for now. Maybe I'll talk about why this song speaks to me next time. Or maybe I'll talk about something completely unrelated. We'll see...