Make a Joyful Noise

Five times in the Book of Psalms we're told to "make a joyful noise."

   Sing unto the Lord . . . .
   With trumpets
   and sound of cornet
   make a joyful noise
   before the Lord.

(Psalm 98:5-6)

Yes, I think we've got the "noise" part down.  There's a lot of noisiness in the news.  But not much of it is "joyful." 

What's there to be happy about?  The sounds we hear across the world are not chipper (more like, wood chipper).

During the past month, in the midst of writing drafts on the sacrament, the will of God, and the path of perdition (an eclectic bunch of topics, I know; I am whetting your appetite for what's in the pipeline), I wanted to pause and say a few things to uplift our spirits.  It's summertime, and the sun is shining, and we need to feel the sand between our toes, spiritually-speaking.

I am aware some of you recently have held the hand of loved ones in their final hours; others have watched their infant in the NICU hooked up to breathing tubes.  Some of you have wondered what to do about abusive relationships, or how to escape soul-crushing jobs.

Everywhere I turn, I sense bitter dregs and dark nights.  The world has become so heavy.

And so I write to apply a spiritual poultice to our aching hearts.  I share these things as someone who, like you, yearns for a better world.  We are made strong in weakness (2 Cor. 12:9).

I love you and say: "For the hurt of the daughter of my people I am hurt; I am black; astonishment hath taken hold of me" (Jeremiah 8:21).

I feel your hurt and keep you in my prayers.  We are stronger together: our burdens shall not break our backs; God willing, let us square our spiritual shoulders.  God has sent us, His Red Cross, to tend to the wounded on the battlefield.

   Is there no balm in Gilead;
   is there no physician there?

(Jeremiah 8:22)

We have a Healer who has promised that all we've lost shall be found, and all our tears shall water the seeds of celestial fruit.

We have a "High Priest of good things to come" (Heb. 9:11).  I know things are tough, and I expect before the end they shall become tougher.

But tougher than any of them is Jehovah, our jasper, our Jesus.  And don't forget that we, too, are the Lord's onyx and obsidian.

Together we shall see things through.  And along the way, if you're willing to join me, let's make some noise.

   A joyful noise.

Wrong Side of the Tracks

In 1961, the Hollywood Reporter wrote in its review of the film West Side Story that the movie's ending (spoiler alert: Chino shoots Tony after Anita lies to him) was "almost a traumatic experience."

I felt it myself the first time I watched West Side Story in the mid-1980s when I was 8 or 9 years old.

Lying on the family room carpet in front of our old tube TV, I remember when Tony and Maria sang "One Hand, One Heart."  Something stirred within me.

   Make of our hands one hand,
   Make of our hearts one heart.

As a child, I didn't know what I was feeling.  It was bitter-sweet.  The closest thing I can compare it to was homesickness.

When they harmonized at the crescendo, "One hand," and then tenderly, "One heart" . . . the music awakened something in me, a door to a world I didn't know existed, but that I somehow sensed I belonged to.

A world of love.

[Note: I've learned how to share videos!  I am including music clips in this post.  I invite you to listen to these songs I've chosen with the volume turned up.  Put on your headphones; turn on your speakers and allow the Spirit to speak to you through the music.]

The Tongue of Angels

All my life I've sought the lingua franca of the Logos ― a universal language with which to commune with God and His creation.

​That language (the divine tongue) is, of course, love.

But what is love?  Sure, "God is love" ― but what does that really mean?

Love is lyrical: it is Spirit taking shape.  The scriptures compare God's nature to the wind and breath.  All was formless until the light of love entered the void, and spoke.

And that voice! ― the voice that pierced the darkness, even the Word that warmed life into Being, that melted matter in His image, in whose bosom burned the love of the Logos as a pulsar ― that Voice sang!

And what was His song?  How does one describe God's vibrato?  It was as the sound of the rushing of great waters.  His calling was music to our ears.  The Logos, with cupped hands-to-lips, called us to gather round.

And we heard!  And we, His lost lambs, His flickering stars, responded.  We came, bleating and bleeding.  We ran!  We flew; we leapt into His eternal embrace.

And thus we became part of God's Song.  We are part of the symphony sounding His everlasting kindness.  We became His heart-chords, the strings of heaven's harp spreading His love into the nethermost parts of the cosmos, extending His light so that the borders of Outer Darkness recede.

In His love we experience the harmony of heat and wholeness; such is the eternal flame we carry into the coldness of spacetime.  Our Shepherd, the Logos, bears the lodestone of redeeming love, in whose arms all are cradled and rocked and swaddled safely.

Can you hear it?  Can you feel His music wrapping around your spiritual cells?  We are bathed in its love; our DNA spirals towards its light.

God's voice bleeds from our every pore; our bodies resonate to His vocal chords.

What music are we creating with Him?

"A Grief That Can't Be Spoken"

​I will never forget the moment when, at the end of West Side Story, Tony falls into Maria's arms, mortally wounded.

As I watched that scene as a boy, it was if my young heart felt the gunshot itself, and I began to cry.

I was ashamed of my tears, afraid my older sisters would see and mock, so I slid under the coffee table to hide.

There, beneath the table, staring up at the unfinished wood of its underside, trying to conceal the sounds of my sobs, it was as if I had witnessed a side of the world I had not known: the ugly, hurtful, hateful part.

What kind of world was this I had fallen into?  What madness had driven me here, far from the safety of my heavenly home, into a world where people rage and ruin?  What had I gotten myself into?

I pulled my t-shirt over my face as the end credits played (the childlike equivalent, I suppose, of covering my head with ashes), tasting a glimpse of the grief that would grow into adulthood, where, as a pilgrim in this strange land, I sojourn stricken with the sorrow, the memory of Eden a fresh wound.

I long for God's kingdom come.  Where is Zion?  All my life I've wandered, seeking to flee to its peaceful shores, far away from this telestial traffic jam of guns and stock exchanges and human greed.

I often feel like King David who, at a low point in his life, after Nathan censored him for his sins, cried out:

   Deliver me from bloodguiltiness,
   O God, thou God of my salvation:
   and my tongue shall sing aloud
   of thy righteousness.

   O Lord, open thou my lips;
   and my mouth
   shall show forth thy praise.

(Psalm 51:14-15)

What praise have I, here, now ― when the world reeks of inequality and injustice?  What praise, now, when the wicked rule and the faithful mourn?  What praise can we possibly muster when the earth is filled to brim with the stink of mortal sweat staining the Lord's pure creation?

How could God allow it?

O God, I cannot hide my face!  Where is mercy?  Where is jubilee?  Whichever way I turn I behold suffering and heartbreak, poverty and pain.

But this is our lot, to stand as witnesses at the world's ending.

O dear God, how do You hold this pain in Your palms (Isa. 49:16) without clenching your fist?

This is Not a Rehearsal; It's Show Time

God may be the author of love and the giver of light, but it is up to us to articulate His music, to translate His Word, and give phrasing to His voice in sharing His light with those around us ― as we saw from Canadian national treasure, k.d. lang, in the above clip.

A Church without miracles is like a symphony without sound.  We need trombones who can prophesy, clarinets that speak in tongues, and harps with the gift of healing.  Most of all, we need flutes with soaring faith and band instruments to play charity's march.

Musical notation is just symbols on paper.  The scriptures contain words on a page.  We must breathe life into them.  No matter how brilliant the composer, or how great the song, until there is a performer it remains lifeless ink.  We may as well be illiterate if we do not embody the words we read.

God needs pure-hearted musicians; He needs artists who, like Christ, can translate for the Logos, instantiating His love into spacetime, here and now.

As any musician knows, it is far easier to play a piece of music after having heard it performed by another.  Christ gifted us with a masterclass on how to love like the Father.  Our heart has been 'tuned' by His example as the Firstchair.

I cannot overstate how important it was for us to see the Word made flesh, so that we, in the flesh, may become the Word.

Now imagine His voice being amplified by ten, a hundred, a thousand, a million singers in unison, all singing the glory of the Creator.

Christ was never meant to be a Soloist (John 14:12).  Even though He walked the winepress alone, He always intended to attract a company of musicians and singers, a folk band that, having heard Him begin the melody, would take it up on their guitars and play with Him in the greatest Concert this universe has ever seen.

Priesthood Keys as Musical Keys

I was a music major at BYU before I switched over to history; in the beginning I wanted to be a high school music teacher.

Music is a system of relationships and we can learn a lot about the Body of Christ through musical theory. 
​
An octave has 12 possible notes (the chromatic scale), but only seven of them are used in a given "key."​

Now, the important thing to understand is that keys can be transposed: keys unlock the fluidity of frequency.

One of the most exciting things, musically, is when, during a piece, the key changes.  It is exhilarating!  The way keys change is through chord progressions, like the way the earth is transitioning into a paradisiacal state.

Just because the hymn "Come, O Thou King of Kings" is written in the key of G Major, doesn't mean it has to always be played that way.  You could modulate the hymn to any key you wanted, making it higher or lower.

So it is with priesthood keys.  Changing the key changes the music, but it is still recognizable; the Composer's mark remains.  Dispensations are transpositions; any song can be transposed, spiritually-speaking.

We are not complete until we've played around with all the chords (for how else could we become co-composers with God, to create new music, until we've experimented with scales and intervals and rhythm in all their variety?).

The way we usually modulate into a new key is to find a common chord, a pivot chord, that is shared by both key signatures.  This pivot chord can be likened to Christ, who is the bridge between old and new, and the catalyst that prompts us to cross it.

Now watch: what does being a "new" creature really mean?  It means, simply, that we graduate from playing someone else's music to composing new music with God.  Instead of rehashing and recycling and repeating, we create something new: new arrangements and new styles and new possibilities.

Christ's ability to transpose from one glory to another is the essence of Intelligence.

The universe is alive, organic and asymmetrical.  This is illustrated by the "Pythagorean Comma."  The ancient Chinese masters discovered long ago that in 31 Octaves you achieve 53 perfect fifths (what they call Lṻ).  The first five fifths create what we call the Pentatonic Scale.
 
Isn’t it strange, that with all of the correspondences and synchronicities in the cosmos, the system is not wholly coherent?  The universe is comprised of broken symmetry and quantum uncertainty.  God did not design a clock; He birthed a living, growing, evolving creation.

And thus the Lord does not require us to swear allegiance to a single modality.  In fact, quite the contrary: the Lord seems to relish diversity of expression and being-ness.  The greater the differentiation, the broader the love grows; and yet, it never ceases to be part of Him.

For, every instrument has a unique voice.  Think of a trumpet versus a violin playing a High C ― as opposed to that same High C being hit by Italian tenor Luciano Pavarotti at the climax of "Nessun Dorma" (as you watch the clip below, you will find he earns that standing ovation at the end). 

The mystery of God is found in the diversity of operations.  Creativity is at the heart of Creation.  Spiritual gifts and priesthood keys all stem from God, but in their application they evolve in nuanced and surprising ways, becoming infinitely new.

This is why spiritual discernment is paramount.

"To March Into Hell for a Heavenly Cause"

​When I was a senior in high school, the administration asked me to sing at graduation.

I knew what I wanted to perform: one of my favorite songs, "The Impossible Dream" from Man of La Mancha.

   To dream the impossible dream
   To fight the unbeatable foe
   To bear with unbearable sorrow
   To run where the brave dare not go

My grandmother flew in from Oregon to hear me perform at the graduation ceremony.

I was nervous; it was the biggest audience I had ever performed before.  And nothing destroys a singer's breath support quicker than butterflies in the belly.

   And the world will be better for this,
   That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
   Still strove, with his last ounce of courage
   To reach the unreachable star!

As I sang in that arena, looking over a crowd of several thousand people, I found myself singing to, and for, my grandma, as if it were just the two of us.  I knew she didn't care if my voice was perfect; she loved me no matter what I sounded like, regardless of how my performance went.

So it is with Christ.  We are on the stage.  But God is not watching us from the audience: He is next to us, in us.  In a way I do not comprehend, in Gethsemane when He saw His seed, as time stretched before Him, we became one.  We are Him; our suffering is His own.

I don't know how God does it, experiencing all the awful things happening on earth.  I can barely handle my own set of challenges, let alone what is happening in Gaza and Ukraine and Sudan.

At times it is overwhelming.  We yearn for resolution.  I try to remember what Christ taught in the Sermon on the Mount.  He showed us the way.  The way we spiritually resolve tension is by:

   1. Acceptance

Jesus taught us to "resist not evil" (Matt. 5:39).  We cannot change things for the better until we've made peace with things as they are.

Acceptance is the precursor to change, paradoxically.  Only when we truly accept what is, are we able to love it fully.  Then, once love is bestowed unconditionally, can the thing we love grow into something more. 

   2.  Bless the tension

Pray for those who despiteful use us?  Love our enemies?  Yes.  This does not minimize the pain, but hallows it.  It does not erase the wrong, but sanctifies it.  Only from the perspective of blessing (as opposed to judgment and condemnation) can we effect eternal transformation.

   3.  Balance the opposition in oneself

This was Christ's gift, to hold tension in himself without breaking.  He was a healer, yes, but too often we focus on His physical healing ― which was less impressive, really, than the spiritual healing He performed.

We think of Christ curing leprosy as if giving us smooth skin was what mattered: but are we going to be models for Maybelline?

No, the real healing was taking broken minds and hearts and weaving them together with hope and wholeness.

But here's the important part to remember: Christ did not discard the brokenness, or cast aside our heartbreak; instead, He integrated our weakness and imperfection so that our scars become more sacred than unblemished skin.

"Tim," someone says.  "I can forgive them for what they did, but I cannot accept it.  I will not condone it.  I will never bless it."

Okay.  Or, we can try it Christ's way.  How did He reconcile evil?  How did He bring beauty from ashes?  How?  Therein is the solution we seek.

Jesus did not find everlasting peace through animal sacrifice; not by following carnal commandments; certainly not by sacrificing a million bulls or observing a million feasts.

Christ brought peace unlike the world by loving the Father and loving us.  Purely.  Infinitely.  Eternally.

​Zion will not come from converting people away from Islam or by legislating transgender policy or by getting everyone to attend the temple.  Zion will come when we learn to love like Christ.  Period.
​
So if you're crazy enough to love like God, then you just might be crazy enough to dream the impossible dream.

And if you dream the impossible dream with me, and with God, then maybe we just might find there is a place for us, somewhere a place for us, with peace and quiet and open air.

   Somewhere.

Five Years!

Recently I celebrated my birthday and my teenage daughter gave me a handmade birthday card that said, in bold purple marker:

"Congrats!  You're not dead yet!"

That says it all.  I'm not dead!  What can top being alive?  Carpe diem.  I have such dreams for my next chapter.

As we celebrate five years of Owl of the Desert, I thank God for being alive, at this particular time in history, on this journey with you. The horizon holds untold wonders (D&C 133:45).

Owl of the Desert has been my love song to God (Alma 5:26).  Through it I have been blessed to connect with you, my spiritual family, for whom I am eternally grateful.

I feel to exclaim as Ammon, "My heart is brim with joy" (Alma 26:11).  It makes me emotional ― as when Jesus declared His joy was full, and wept (3 Ne. 17:20-21).

Miracles have led us here.  I've learned many lessons over the past five years.  I am not the same man I was when I began blogging.

As Heraclitus said, "No man ever steps in the same river twice: for it's not the same water and he's not the same man."

I could not be the man I am without the love of my family and friends.  I want to take a moment and express my thanks to my wife and children, who in the lottery before this life must have drawn the short-straw to be tasked with rounding my rough edges and tolerating my flights of fancy.  You are Godsent.

Also my thanks to my spiritual mentor and brother, Clark Burt, whose wisdom and advice have kept me grounded while I have been prone to wander in the clouds of God's mysteries.  Bless you and Annie, now and forever.

And to my parents, for gifting me with the heritage of water and earth.  I bear the chromosomes of Christ because of you.  It is an honor to be your son and I will remember your goodness in all the worlds to come.

And finally, thank you, my dear parliament of Owls, who have kept watch with me through the night, and have sat with me upon the rooftops to witness the rising sun: I love you.

   The best is yet to come.

Looking Back: How Far We've Come
​
I was cooking dinner Sunday night (a little Mexican feast of tamales and rice and refried beans) when my 11-year old, who was keeping me company in the kitchen, all of the sudden began quoting from my poem Sign.

                     You keep
    the flock in the thrall
    of apricot authority

I looked up from the cutting board, confused.  What was going on?

            gathered to barns
    locked with priestly seal,
    ensnaring little lambs

My son was reading from his iPod (I didn't know he knew how to look up Owl of the Desert).  But there he was, on the kitchen stool, reading words I wrote years ago.

               fleecing them
    with tarnished shears
    your velvet robes
    cannot conceal

I laughed.  "Do you know what that means?" I asked.

He shook his head.  "No idea."

By then his brother, my teenage son, had wandered into the kitchen in search of a snack and joined us.  I put down my knife.  "Read the last part.  I often put the point of my poems at the end."

He scrolled down, and read Alma's words to Korihor (but really to us):

   I bear no purse, carry no scrip:
   I hold sacred the sign of my apostleship.

   With mine own hands
   I have labored
   for my support
   as God commands.

​​      According to the Holy Order
      to which I am called
      I give you this sign:

          As high priest
          I refused to take
          so much as a single
          senine.

"A 'senine' is money," I explained as he finished reading out loud.  "It's like Alma was saying, 'I've never taken so much as a penny for my service to God.'  It's about priestcraft.  Do you know what that is?"

   *****

Owl of the Desert has evolved over the years.  In the early days I was primarily concerned with contrasting the Church's policies with the scriptures.  I spent a lot of time on topics like priestcraft and authority and tithing, highlighting how the Church had stumbled (Rom. 9:33).

But you may have noticed I don't talk about the Church as much anymore.  Or Mammon or prophet-worship ― or a dozen other things that are still issues, sure ― but do I really need to beat a dead horse?

Along the way, I arrived at a point where, having said what needed saying (at least by me), I found myself drawn toward things of greater consequence, like exploring the mysteries of God, in whose light the chipped nail polish besmirching the Church's bedsheets pales into insignificance.  

And don't worry!  Everything I have written remains available for anyone who is interested, who wishes to read from the beginning and see the good, the bad, and the ugly (referring to myself).

I shall not go back and edit what I have written, because it captures a moment in time, a point in my path, and stands as a record of both my inspiration and imperfection (Ether 12:23).

I am sorry if I offended anyone while finding my sea legs, if my words proved divisive rather than discerning.  At times I was angry and hurt; other times I was heartbroken and depressed.  But mostly, I was hopeful.

For the common thread in everything I have written, no matter the subject, has always been this: faith, hope, and (especially) love.

Fool Me Once
​
The ancient Zen master Zhaozhou (778 A.D. - 897 A.D., known as Joshu in Japanese) had a great sense of humor (a sign of intelligence, I am told).

A story tells of a monk who asked Master Zhaozhou, "What is an imbecile?"

Zhaozhou said, "I’m not as good as you."

The monk said defensively, "I’m not trying to be anything" (for in Buddhism one must not become attached to identity). 

Zhaozhou replied, "Then why are you being an imbecile?"
 
   *****

Paul said:

   We are fools
   for Christ's sake.

(1 Cor. 4:10)

I am happy to be a court jester in Christ's kingdom, for in the world we see all around us "men's hearts failing them for fear" (Luke 21:26).

I have tried to counteract the fear by whispering hope into the shadows.  I hope some of what I've written over the years has made you smile.

Everywhere we turn there is such heaviness.  We wipe our foreheads in the sweltering heat of the times and seasons.  But we mustn't let our hearts succumb to heatstroke.

This is not a dry heat, either, we're experiencing, but a spiritual humidity coming from "the powers of heaven be[ing] shaken" (Luke 21:26).  And this is merely a preamble to what we'll endure when the Lord sets His hand to humble the nations.

Owls, let's please not lose our nerve and humor: not when the sun darkens and the moon withholds her light, her scarred cheeks blushing red at the sight of what the world has become (Rev. 6:12).

If there's one thing the world needs right now, it is for those bearing Christ's light to lighten the mood.

Faith's Flower

"Divine invitations are usually delivered by trouble."

   ― Sufi saying

The spiritual awakening we're witnessing in the Church is happening across the world, in every religion.  We are not unique; these seismic waves ripple everywhere.  We are feeling the effect of the Lord's hand on the plough.

The Lord is gathering laborers from among every people, kindred, and clime: from the islands of the sea to the mountains to the valleys: the world is waking up (even as the powers of darkness combine).
 
I recently read an interview of a Muslim Sufi, Shaykh Burhanuddin, who said, "Especially in the latest years, there is definitely an increase in awakening going on."  In Islam.

"If you have seen the divine power, you know, you have no doubts that everything can happen.  So I would never take hope away from people, but I can say it is urgent, and this is why we are doing what we are doing.  And I'm the smallest particle, you know, but I have to try to do the work, no?"

The Shaykh's words remind me of the Lord's call:
   
   If ye have desires to serve God
   ye are called to the work;

   For behold the field is white
   already to harvest.

(D&C 4:3-4)

The harvest will not happen along denominational lines.  To the angels it makes little difference what religion we claim, but only if our hearts are pure (D&C 97:21).

But make no mistake: the harvest is coming.

We determine, though, the shape the sickle takes (D&C 4:4).  This was implied in the revelation Joseph Smith received in 1831 (now D&C 39) about the coming judgment, which changes how I view things.

   The people in Ohio
   call upon me in much faith,
   thinking I will stay my hand
   in judgment upon the nations,
   but I cannot deny my word.
 
(D&C 39:16)

From this verse, it seems like the future if set: the judgment is inevitable because God "cannot deny [His] word."

But wait: has God given His last and final word?  No, for His words "never cease" (Moses 1:4).

And just because God "has spoken one word, ye need not suppose that [He] cannot speak another; for my work is not yet finished" (2 Nephi 29:9).

Look at what the Lord teaches us about the future in what He says next in D&C 39:

   Lay to with your might
   and call faithful laborers
   into my vineyard,
   that it may be pruned
   for the last time.
 
   Inasmuch as they do repent
   and receive the fulness
   of my gospel,
   and become sanctified,
   I WILL STAY MY HAND (!)
   IN JUDGMENT.

(D&C 39:17-18)

The harvest will come, but the road getting there is not predetermined.  The future is always in flux.

Faith, you see, has power to move the mountains of what is to come.

Where We're Headed
​
"Jesus was not an exception to humanity but was the revelation of what humanity is meant to become."

    ― Doug Scott
 
​If you're wondering where I'm headed, personally (and as a result, where my writings will be taking us), the answer is simple: to Christ.

Perhaps not the Christ we expect ― not the Christ of our creeds and false traditions ― but to the living Christ, who is even more wonderful than we can imagine.

​Over the past year you may have sensed a change in my tone and focus in the Approaching Zion series.

In July 2024 I alluded to this change in Approaching Zion: Pure in Heart, when I wrote:

"There is a whole world I have yet to explore.

"The Lord popped my prideful bubble with a pinprick of His Spirit as I contemplated my vast ignorance.  I imagined the vaulted libraries of heaven for which I haven't even been issued a library card yet.

"Zion is so much more than what we have imagined in our Sunday School classes.  Before us lies an infinite University, the likes of which we cannot fathom; there are countless tomes of Creation's courses that lie unopened at our feet.  There are Everest-truths our finite minds have yet to conceive, standing as-we-are at the base camp, near the bottom, looking up at the summit shrouded in the mystery of the Lord's day-cloud.

"How long it will take us to absorb it all, I cannot say; had we ten lifetimes to learn about this earth, it would be but a drop in the ocean.  But I can't wait to gaze beyond the horizon of our faith and witness the wonders of God hidden from the world in Christ Jesus."

​Since that time, I have received my Library Card.  My spiritual education under the Lord's tutelage has taken me in some surprising directions.

I don't speak often about my personal spiritual experiences with the Lord because everyone's encounter with God is unique; I don't want to prejudice anyone or ruin Christ's surprise for you.

I think it's regrettable the Church has given mythical status to Joseph Smith's experiences with the Lord.  I think we often misunderstand the nature of Joseph's experiences, having a eulogized narrative that makes us look beyond the mark, expecting God to treat us as if we were all nineteenth-century farm boys.

God is not found in someone else's experiences.  God can only be found and known through our personal walk with Him.

Whether we find God on the road to Emmaus, or maybe it's on the road to Damascus ― or if we're lucky, to find Him on the road to Jericho (Luke 10:30) ― but wherever we are, on whatever road we travel, at whatever stage we find ourselves, He walks beside us!  Even now, if only we have eyes to see it.

The cosmos is "ensouled."  Just as our spirit mediates between the divine light of Christ and our mind and body (creating a soul) (D&C 88:15), so too does the universe itself express the soul of God.

Sorry if I sound like a broken record, but I have to keep shouting from the rooftops the good news!  Everyone seems to be chasing God as if He were out there, in a pillar of fire or at Father Whitmer's Cabin, or behind special rites, or somewhere "else."  But He is here!  He is within you, and is part of you, and you Him (D&C 88:50). 
 
By this I mean, the soul of God mediates between eternal forms and physical processes.  These forms and processes are creative, and therefore the way God reaches out to you is uniquely based on you.

People in the Church often talk about spiritual milestones which become millstones if they cause us to miss the mark, which is, finding Christ "in all things" (D&C 88:41).

French Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1881-1955) pointed us towards a Christ greater than our Churches, grander than our faith, purer than the doctrines of men.

Teilhard taught that Christ was not just the Creator of the universe, but that Christ was being created by the universe as it evolves.

In other words, the Body of Christ is being co-created with us.  Just as God created us, so too do we participate in the creation of God by becoming part of Him (how else do we explain the Godhead?).

Gird your loins, my friends, for the future is coming faster than we think.  I have faith in the future because I have faith in the Living God.

One of the paradoxes I have learned is that, just as we come to know our true nature through God, so too do we glorify God by God knowing Himself through us.

I leave you with my love in the light of the God of dawn, of first light, of hope found with the rising of the morning Sun.

Let us carry this light into the darkness of days we call 'mortality' so others may feel the warmth upon their cheeks.

Mine Testimony
a poem

​Mine Lamb
mine Advocate I am 
your lamb smiling
Child mine singing Son 
sweet Ahman come joyfully

Tensile your name
Shepherd sound 
carrying our secret 
water rushing
between us unspoken 
mine name
Brokenness
I AM
sorry 
mine Alone
Comforter Newlyborn 

     swaddle me 
     in mine Eyes.