Testing the Limits

I've been lazy.  Purposefully lazy.  Over the holiday, I mean.

You see, at the beginning of my Christmas vacation I sat down and asked myself, "What should I do with my free time?"

And you know the answer that came?  "NOTHING."  

(Sadly I am the sort of person who has to make a To-Do List to tell himself, "No. 1: Do nothing.")

So that's what I've done for the past 10 days: nothing.  It's been really difficult.  Several times per day my mind has cycled through all of the "productive" things I should be doing (and no, I am not a workaholic; I just like feeling a sense of accomplishment).

But each time I've stopped myself, remembering, "I am doing something; nothing is something."

But our time has to be filled with something (there is no such thing as "nothing" unless you're in a coma).

So, adrift without any plans or checklists, I found my time being filled in unexpected ways ― like when my 10-year-old asked if I'd help him bake homemade coffee cake.  "Sure," I said, having nothing else to do.  How could I say no?  Or seeing my son playing the game Perfection on his own, I sat down and joined him.  Or spending several hours in the early morning (while the house slept) researching the rules of Mahjong to teach my daughter.

Hardest of all, I forced myself to sit through entire movies with my family without any distractions (this year: Home Alone and The Santa Clause).

Strangely, my family has said it has been one of the best holidays they can remember.  They've liked having me so . . . unplanned.  Listless?

So why am I ready to get back to work?

Hyper Much?

For some of us, there is nothing harder than to be told:

   Be still,
   and know
   that I am God.

(Psalms 46:10)

No, no; not that: there've got to be some spears around here needing sharpening; bows to break; cloth to mend; give us some laundry to do.

   Be still,
   and know
   that I AM
   God.

(D&C 101:16)

The fallen world is really a Godsend; all those noxious weeds need pulling!  Thank the Lord for that.  Bread just tastes better mixed with sweaty brows.  Forget the Manna.  "Please, just give me something to stay busy; put wood in my hand to whittle, let me move some rocks around or dig holes or something.  Anything!"

   Stand still
   and see
   the salvation
   of the Lord.

(Exodus 14:13)

​​"A day of rest?  I couldn't.  The bathroom toilet needs scrubbing!"  

   Stop,
   and stand still.

(D&C 5:34)

Wisdom​

​I wished.
     Not on a falling star
     (when a blink
     shapes doubt
     of what was
     or might have been)―
Will you
     promise
not to tell?     
     Wishes are secrets
     we cannot
forsake―
     perjuries of disbelief
     never giving
     more than they take.
     Neither was it a happy-birthday-to-  
you wish, spent absently
     on clapping smiles.  Remember,
a wish stretched
     beyond two
     becomes something
new.  Fragile, maybe―
     but stronger, too. 
     Not a throw-a-ruby-in-a-well wish, either 
     ―No, this was a full-blooded
Earth Wish: with lips like fountains
     flowing toward mountain gates
     through hidden paths and pillars―
     understanding―
     heartsome―
     waterful―
     rising, flooding . . . . It  
awaits an answer (can makers
     become grantors?)―
​
My mother said
     wishes make little
children of us all.
     
       God, I wish
       I knew
       how to Wish
       like you.

A Reader's Guide to the Poem "Wisdom"

   1.  Were you able to find the hidden wish in the poem?  (If not, search for the first word in the hanging indents to form a separate sentence.)

   2.  Who do the scriptures personify when they speak of "wisdom"?  Who is this poem written for, about, to?  What powers of creation do we ascribe to the mother?  Does some of the symbolism make more sense now?

   3.  To accomplish our greatest desires, can we do it alone, or must we rely upon others?  But doesn't the involvement of others give them the ability to help fulfill OR destroy our wishes?

   4.  What are the "perjuries of disbelief" we harbor?

   5.  Does God "wish"?  What does it mean that "there is nothing that the Lord thy God shall take in his heart to do but what he will do it" (Abraham 3:17)?

Why Faith?  Why Now?

Strangely, I have not written extensively about faith on this blog.  As is so often the case with fundamentals, we assume everyone knows them.  And, to be sure, faith is the bread-and-butter of Christianity.

But yesterday at Church I listened to several talks that made me feel like the faith-train has derailed and crashed; the speakers described "faith" in terms which, to me, screamed the opposite.

And so, taking inspiration from Clark Burt's excellent and eye-popping series on repentance, I've decided to tackle faith.

I've titled this Series, "A Faith Beyond: The Gospel's Least-Understood Principle" ― and it is more than just click-bait.  As you read this Series, you can decide whether there's sufficient evidence for my claim that the first principle of the gospel is, in fact, the most poorly understood.

I will attempt to support my claims using the scriptures and I might even sprinkle in a bit of prophecy and/or a dash of good old-fashioned revelation.

LESSON 1:  Faith Looks Nothing Like We Expect

I was always terrible at the Where's Waldo books.  Not that my vision is poor, but rather my patience is.

It's going to take a bit of patience for us to find faith's habitation.

One of our challenges is that faith is camouflaged; the more we become "pure in heart," the easier it will be to recognize.

As an example, how many people recognized Christ at His first coming?  Not those who were part of the "establishment."

​Why?  Because Christ's coming was nothing like the Jews expected.  Christ breezed right past them and none were the wiser, except a very few.

So it is today: faith is found in swaddling clothes (the true robes of the priesthood) ― held, in its purest form, by those who have become as little children in Christ.

Little children?  By contrast, the typical "faith" we see bandied about nowadays is that of the Natural Man putting-on-airs in all his finery.  Like King Herod.

The audacity of King Herod!  He told the wise men to return and tell him where the Christchild was so he could come and worship him.  Yeah, right.

The Natural Man (being an enemy to God) loves to appear like His friend, posing for his self-portrait in the robes of the priesthood, painted larger than life.  The scriptures call it "hypocrisy."

I want to suggest something right now, fresh off the blocks, as we begin in this Series:  What I am going to describe is likely going to sound unfamiliar.  Strange, even.

Because on our quest for saving faith, we need to stop thinking of faith as something that belongs to religion.

We may need to look beyond our chapels, cathedrals, shrines, and temples.  Those things, as a rule, are built by, and for, the natural man.

   For God dwelleth not
   in temples made with hands

So where does God dwell?  Where will we find a living, breathing faith?

Well, we're told that we (His children) are the temple of God.  "Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?" (1 Cor. 3:16).

   neither is God worshipped
   with [that which is made with]
   men's hands.

(Acts 17:24)

What about all the beautiful woodwork and stained-glass windows in our temples?  What about the Kirtland Temple's china-infused façade?  I thought those things were signs of our faith.  No?

Cross-reference this with Stephen's dying testimony, declaring to the Jews that the finery of Solomon's temple was worthless:

   Howbeit the most High
   dwelleth not in temples
   made with hands.

(Acts 7:48)

Whereas today we are taught ALL THE TIME to "go to the Temple."  We've come to equate faith with our temples and the covenants we make therein.  Christ, of course, is in there somewhere, we're sure.

A member spoke yesterday in Church about how they've been struggling financially, and so she and her husband have tripled their time in the temple.

And so we have been misled to look for faith in all the wrong places.

Who Are We Trying to Impress?

Now, please don't get me wrong.  I am happy to scrub the toilets and clean the church building on Saturdays (although I prefer to vacuum the chapel).  I love our Ward Chili Cook-offs in the Cultural Hall.  And I love being in the temple (as I've previously written about).

My point is, these places are for us ― not God!  Who are we trying to impress with our brass-inlaid marble steps leading up to the Endowment Room?  God, whose streets are paved with gold (D&C 137:4)?

What's ironic is that these impressive edifices elicit so much pride from members of the Church, who post pictures of the temples all the time on social media.  What they do not realize is that these structures do not reflect our faith, but rather our lack of it, as Nephi foresaw (2 Nephi 28:13).

But consider little children: do we think little children care about how many crystals are in the chandelier hanging in the Celestial Room?  No, that's just bragging-rights for the Natural Man.

Little children care nothing for the indicia of wealth and finery.  They don't care what they're wearing (I mean, my kindergartener would have worn the exact same unwashed T-shirt every single day to school if I had let him).

And isn't it funny how little children have no sense of fashion (have you seen them play dress-up?).  They don't care about nice clothes, or designer labels, or getting their Sunday Best dirty while playing outside in the mud.

Teenagers, though . . . now they're a different story.  Teenagers know their social status in Middle School hangs in the balance; it's all about appearances.

Ironically, we've created churches and religions for Middle School Faith, trying to impress the Mean Girls and to woo the star Quarterback. 

But little children care nothing about all that.  They're completely at the mercy of their parents to dress them; I mean, they can't even change their own diapers, let alone dress themselves.

And if those parents want to dress them in a little sailor's suit and cap, or in a flower dress with matching ribbons in their hair, so be it.

The question we should be asking, then, is what, exactly, does our Father in heaven want to dress us in?  What do the robes of faith resemble?  Does heaven have a dress-code?

Well, nothing fancy.  For Father wants to clothe us in the body (image) of Christ our Savior.

But that won't satisfy most people's definition of 'Sunday Best'.  After all, in Christ there "is no beauty that we should desire him."

And honestly, wearing Christ is going to kill our social capital in Middle School faster than a basketball player wearing a pair of pink ballet slippers.

So back we go to where it's safe (by which I mean, to our carnal security); back to the tried-and-true Brylcreem, sleeking back our hair like cool kids. 

"Ah, that's better.  There's the natural man the world loves so well."

But swaddling clothes?  The other kids would mock us if we showed up in First Period wearing that. 

"No, no; I don't want to be made fun of for wearing hand-me-downs."

Lesson 2: Faith is Not Found Where We Think
​
Where is faith to be found, then?  If religion has sold itself to Mammon, where is faith hiding (in the bathroom stall of the girl's bathroom?).

The curious thing about the natural man is his absolute obsession with appearances (above all else).  He knows how to "look the part."  And, frankly, the Letterman Jacket crowd has little use for faith when they've got Daddy's hotrod and good looks.

Which is why, when we read about clothing and fine-twined linen in the Book of Mormon, and dismiss it as outdated reference, we're wrong (because clothing symbolizes the way we wish to appear to others, and keeping up appearances is still very much in vogue).

Look, there is nothing hypocrites love so well as cutting a fine figure, spiritually speaking ― hence all the stiff, wrinkle-free white shirts Christ mocked as "whited sepulchers" (Matt. 23:27).

It's tough to find faith among the modern trappings of religion, lounging upon respectable woolen couches dyed a deep-hue blue (Amos 6:4).  We won't find faith clothed in comfortable, soft cotton-blends (by which I mean, the commandments of men).

But don't worry, we ARE told in the scriptures what faith looks like.  Once we know what to look for, she's not hard to spot.

In Hebrews 11 we read how the prophets of old possessed great faith, and

​   were stoned,
   they were sawn asunder,
   were tempted,
   were slain with the sword
 
"Umm, Tim, you're not doing a very good job of selling faith, here, buddy."

   they wandered about
   in sheepskins
   and goatskins;
   being destitute, afflicted,
   tormented

"Umm, Tim, what's up with the riff-raff?  That's not what I signed up for.  I thought having faith meant our lives would get better!  Didn't President Nelson promise the poor Africans that if they paid tithing to the Church they'd lift themselves out of generational poverty?"

"This doesn't sound like the prosperity gospel, such as when President Nelson said:

"'Paying tithing is all about faith, not money.  As I became a full-tithe payer, the windows of heaven began to open for me. I attribute several subsequent professional opportunities to our faithful payment of tithes'?"  (Russell M. Nelson, "Think Celestial!" October 2023 General Conference.)
 
   (Of whom the world
   was not worthy):
   they wandered 
   in the deserts,
   and in mountains,
   and in dens and caves
   of the earth.

Don't miss it: why couldn't these men and women find a home for their faith?  Well, their faith was "wrong," as deemed by those in authority, like two puzzle pieces that don't fit.

​Ask yourself: why weren't these men and women welcomed in the churches, synagogues, and temples of their day?

Christ tells us, when he said, foxes have holes (not talking about animals; who did he refer to as "that fox"?) and birds have nests (not talking about animals but the leaders of his day, perched atop the religious hierarchy), but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.

Nobody wanted to fellowship with that guy, whose faith sounded heretical; and who had a reputation for speaking blasphemy (as heard in Ward Council), and who believed the darndest things.

   These all obtained
   a good report
   through faith.

(Hebrews 11:37-39)

​"Hmm, Tim, I'm not so sure I want to have faith, now ― at least not this brand.  It sounds very unpopular.  And I have a reputation to uphold." ― says Mammon.

Fashionable Faith
a poem

​Haven’t you any finery
   for Church?
You’ll besmirch
   God in that raggedy dress.
Respectability
   is the warp and woof
of the Lord's elect.
   Sorry dear, that won’t do.
Where’s the largesse?
   You must genuflect
like a golden calf
   for your grand debut.
I swear we must do something
   with your hair.  There!
The game’s to make everything
   ghastly overpriced
(to keep out the riffraff)―
 
      Try the bargain bin
         if you want to wear
      Jesus Christ.

[Above: what I see when a member posts a picture of the temple on social media to gush about how amazing temples are]

What Have We Learned?

What have we learned about faith today?

I think we're seeing that we should beware of those who come preaching the gospel in silks, teaching the doctrine of soft fabrics (by which I mean, the commandments of men, which are the meat-and-potatoes (and gravy) of the Natural Man).

Didn't John the Baptist wear a garment of coarse camel hair?  His shoulders were not draped in the smooth hypocrisy of the high priests who served in the temple (no offense, Zechariah).

Thus Nephi declared: 

   Wo be unto him
   that is at ease in Zion!

(2 Nephi 28:24)

Nephi warned us; if only we'd listen!  Nephi told us to flee from those that cry:

   All is well
   in Zion;
   yea, Zion
   prospereth,
   all is well!

(2 Nephi 28:21)

After all, the easiest way for the devil to cheat our souls is to flatter our faith into believing we please God with all this well-dressed business, sending our faith to Fifth Avenue for its wardrobe.

For Adam and Eve were created in God's image, and are depicted as being naked (representing how pure, or stripped of worldliness, our faith should be).

But along comes the serpent and whispers in our ears, tickling the hearing of the Natural Man:

"See?  Your faith is naked!  Sew fig leaves together with thread made from the bones of men, and make aprons (religions) and hide (from God) behind your forms of godliness!"

Shall we heed the serpent, or shall we take counsel from Christ, as little children, unashamed of our nakedness (Gen. 2:25)?

"Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart"

Merry Christmas, Owls.

I am still learning what it means that Christ gave us His heart (and why, the very next day, anybody would give it away).

But the older I get, the more I sense we are guilty of grossly underestimating Him; and His grace; and the heights and depths and breadth of His love (can we even begin to imagine what is possible with a God who loves us this much?).

So after the First Presidency's Christmas Devotional earlier this month, I had the idea to give my own Christmas message.  I wondered what to share this holiday season that could possibly express my faith in, and love for, our Savior.

Well, Elder Gong dressing up as Scrooge provided some inspiration.

(I would encourage you to read this post twice; the symbolism, I think, will become more meaningful the second time once you understand.)

And so, without further ado, I present:

An Unconventional Christmas Carol

Tonight we will be visited by three ghosts.

Please try keep an open mind.

Part 1: The Ghost of Christmas Past

SCENE: I am awoken in my bed; a ghostly visitor whisks me away in my bathrobe.  We stand before a battlefield in Western France.  Weary soldiers with old fashioned weapons dash by, not seeing us. 

This is not the France I recall from my mission; not the one I served in as a young man at the turn of the century.  This France looked horribly different.

Ghost:  Do you know where we are?

Me:  I believe this is Verdun.

Ghost:  Yes.  It is Christmastime 1918.

Me: [surveying the wreckage and carnage; my eyes beginning to water ― whether from the mustard gas or the heart-wrenching scene, I couldn't tell] There is nothing here that reminds me of Christmas.

Ghost: No?  Can you not see the hope that burns brightly in the hearts of these poor men?  Many of them have fought bravely the past ten months, on both sides of the battle.

Me: [quizzical]  Both sides?  I thought God was on the side of the Allies.  You know, on the side of truth and justice?

Ghost: [looking at me with a pitying expression, and pointing]  Look!

Me: [looking where the ghost pointed, through the smoke of cannon fire, along the Western Front covered in an eerie twilight at midday from the discharge of muskets and chemicals]  I see French and British soldiers in their dugouts; trenches with barbed wire covering the earthworks as far as my eyes can see; I see artillery and scorched fields; and [my stomach twisting] I see thousands of dead bodies lying between us and the German lines.

Ghost:  Look again!

Me: [looking again]  Ah, now I see there are angels descending from heaven and ascending, ministering to the souls of the wounded.  I see heavenly fire surrounding the boys [seeing them, they looked so young]; I see fear in their faces.

Ghost:  Yes.  And to whom are the angels ministering?

Me: [looking again, a third time]  Well, it looks like the angels are ministering to both the Germans and the Allies, in like measure.

Ghost:  That is right; for God's Spirit is upon all flesh.  In His eyes there are no lines, as you see them.

"There Are No lines As You See Them"

I awoke and sat up in my bed, pondering the ghost's cryptic statement.  He was gone.

   No lines?  What did that mean?

Wasn't there a line separating the righteous from the wicked; a gulf dividing goats from sheep?  Or did he mean God actually does send rain upon the just and unjust the same?

I thought, "Love is lineless."  I remembered something I had written in the poem Unveil:

// lines hold no meaning
between waters flowing //

I pictured a great body of water; there was no way to draw lines upon its surface.  I could feel the cohesion of water, its molecules bonded together.  Water was (and was always meant to be) One.

In my heart I felt the wave-like properties of water filling all the empty spaces it found, searching out and welcoming the spaces between, always returning to itself, whole.

Was the ghost trying to teach me that the body of Christ is, above all else, an ocean of indivisible love?

I wondered if too many of us had dug trenches (like at Verdun) in our relationships, erecting barbed-wire fences around our values and beliefs, sending our boys and girls to their deaths.

And for what?  An inch of soil?

How often had I, myself, drawn lines in my certitude and taken "sides," believing God was pleased, mistaking my intransigence for faithfulness?

Part 2: The Ghost of Christmas Present (Not Your Average Testimony Meeting)

I had barely fallen asleep when I was shaken awake by a second visitor.  This new ghost took my hand and transported me out of my bedroom without a word.

I found myself sitting on a wooden pew in the back of a room, surrounded by men and women dressed nicely.  A woman at the front spoke, and I listened to her testimony:

   "Jesus knows me, and Jesus understands me.  I mourn with all of you who mourn.

   "Many angelic visitors have come and communicated with me and even manifested themselves to me.  I know how wonderful heaven is, and I'm homesick for it every single day.

   "I know we all lived in heaven before we were born on earth.  I do not fear death, but I look forward to it.  My beautiful children rest safely this day in the arms of Jesus … and I look forward to the day when we are all reunited, and I too will rest in the arms of my Jesus."

Me: [feeling quite uncomfortable and underdressed, despite being invisible]  Why have you brought me here?

Ghost:  How do you feel?

Me:  Angry!

For this was not a testimony meeting; and we were not at church.  The ghost had brought me to a courtroom I recognized from the trial of convicted murderer Lori Vallow Daybell, and she was giving her statement at sentencing.

I scratched my head, wondering what we were doing there.  How could Lori Daybell say the things she did, so certain, after having committed such awful atrocities?  It made me sick to my stomach.

I remembered reading in the news that she had passed her competency tests to stand trial.  So she was not insane; she was not anymore "crazy" than the rest of us.

Yet, how could a "sane" person believe her children were "zombies" who had been possessed by evil spirits?  How could a mother view it as "a mercy" to kill her own children, believing they were already "dead" inside?

Me:  How can she talk about Jesus after what she's done? 

Ghost: [sadly]  Have you ever done evil?

Me: [defensively]  Well, I've never committed the unforgivable sin!

Ghost:  But have you ever been deceived?

Before I could respond, the ghost snapped her finger, vanishing.  I found myself back in my bedroom, alone.

I sat up in bed, sleep having fled for the night, thinking of all the harm people do in God's name ("Keep Sweet").

I felt terrible and hoped no more visitors would come; my heart couldn't take any more lessons for one night.

As I lay there, pondering the Ghost's question, I thought of how many times I had been mistaken; I mean, how many of us had been convinced that paying tithing to the Church was a sign of faith?  Or that it was righteous to judge a co-ed of being unworthy of our love for having two pairs of earrings?  Or had believed pre-1978 teaching that interracial marriage was wrong?  Or had accepted the 2015 Policy of Exclusion of children of gay parents as a revelation given by God?

I buried my head in my pillow and wept.

Part 3:  The Ghost of Christmas Future

I dried my eyes as my bedroom filled with a wondrous light.  A ghost sat at the foot of my bed.  This one was different; it was so glorious I could barely look upon it; I could not tell whether it was male or female.

Me: [apprehensively]  Spirit, show me no more!  I have had enough.  Why do you delight to torture me?

Ghost: [taking my hand]  This, I think, you will want to see.

I took its hand and its grip felt reassuring; I felt peace.  Suddenly we found ourselves standing at the bottom of the stairs of the Temple in downtown Salt Lake, its spires surrounded with cloven tongues of flame.

Music rang in the air as if all the bells on earth rejoiced and had awoken to greet Christmas morn.  A feeling of utter happiness seemed to grip the crowd pressed together on Temple Square, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, packing every inch.

Me:  What is happening, Spirit?  What is this?

Ghost: [smiling]  It is Christmas Eve!  In the year of our Lord 2031!

I heard the people break out in song, "O Come O Come Immanuel."  It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard; for although the music was sung in a minor key, every word was filled with exuberance.  My whole being shouted for joy.

One of the women nearest the Temple, standing near the top of the stairs, held a sheet of paper in her hand.  She read it out loud, tears on her cheeks, as the assembled peoples listened with rapture.  "To all members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints throughout all the world:  We, the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles declare . . . ."

Ghost:  Look!

​I looked and beheld the Temple doors open and a couple emerge, holding hands with fierce joy, having just been sealed.  To my surprise, they were both male.

Me: [confused]  Spirit, how is this possible?

Ghost: [amused]  Have you not read, and is it not written, that the Lord "denieth none that come unto him"? For God "inviteth them all to come unto him and partake of his goodness; black and white, bond and free, male and female; and he remembereth the heathen" (2 Nephi 26:33).

Me:  But surely that doesn't apply to the queer community . . . not to be contrary, just saying . . . I mean, what about the Plan of Salvation?

​Suddenly I remembered the lessons from the first two ghosts.

Ghost:  Love is to be treasured, whether it be between a man and a man, a man and a woman, or a woman and a woman; for in our Father’s house there are many mansions.  Thus it is said: what God hath joined let not man put asunder; for what He has sanctified bears no reproach.

Me: [skeptical]  Yeah, but . . . 

Ghost:  Is God a respecter of persons?  I say unto you, nay, but he that feareth Him and worketh righteousness is accepted of God.  As He counseled his servant Peter, so I counsel you: call no man impure or unclean.

Me:  Okay, but . . . 

Ghost: [joyfully]  Marriage is ordained of God, and shall He not honor the promises given to those who love and serve Him?  For has He uttered His word and have the hills not hearkened; or have the islands of the sea forgotten the voice of their Creator?  What do ye call Him? The Bridegroom; and who is His bride?  Even Zion, which is neither male nor female, but composed of those who are of one heart.

Me:  Sure, sure.  But what about the things the apostle Paul said about homosexuality in the New Testament?

Ghost:  [Exultant]  Hearken to the word of the Lord: for the lesser law given to the Levites regarding marriage was according to their faith, but I will show unto you a better way.  As concerning the things written by the apostle Paul regarding this thing, he spake according to his understanding as one having no commandment.  For thus saith the Lord, Do not eunuchs take hold of my everlasting covenant and enter into the kingdom of heaven (Isaiah 56:4-5)?  None shall lose their reward, for our Lord and Savior has overcome the circumcision of Moses!

Me:  I see.  But, umm, how do you explain the whole Adam and Eve thing, you know?

Ghost:  In the beginning man was created with the woman and together they were commanded to multiply and replenish the earth and to become one flesh.  Thus saith the Lord, By my word I can raise a righteous seed among unions of the same or different kinds, for to some it is given to procreate and reproduce, and to others it is given to bear the vessels of the Lord by other means.  I made Adam and Eve in my image, in my likeness ― that is, to bear my countenance in their visages, which image is that of a faithful love; for God is love, and is He not faithful?

Before I could say anything else, the heavens opened and choirs of angels descended in glory, singing a new song, their faces shining with the sun's own light:

Come to the Well of Jehovah
   and drink!  Come,
bring your wedding baskets
   filled with lilies and spikenard
and dance before the evening stars.

Amen.

Why Drag Death into Discernment?

I know "death" is not a comfortable topic (certainly not something we discuss over eggs benedict at brunch).

But death fills the measure of this creation.  It is literally everywhere and in everything (including each one of us).  We are swimming in corruptibility and decay; death is our womb.

Which is sort of the point of this mortal experience.  Here, in this kingdom, uniquely, we're experiencing both physical death AND spiritual death.

(What a wild ride for our immortal, eternal spirits, am I right?)

But what does death have to do with discernment?  Well, actually, quite a lot!

I mean, how can we discern between good and evil if we cannot perceive life from death?

Didn't the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil specifically entail Adam and Eve dying?  So there's a close affinity between discernment and death.

   For in the day thou eatest
   thereof thou shalt surely
   die.

(Genesis 2:17)

Saving knowledge, for some reason, is best acquired in the valley of the shadow of death.

(Is it any wonder that Joseph Smith's greatest sermon was delivered in death's shadow, at King Follett's funeral?)

In regards to discernment, I want to suggest that until we lose our fear of death in all its clammy forms ― realizing that death is (after all else) merely an illusion ― we cannot discern clearly.

"But Tim!" someone says.  "How can death be an ILLUSION when you just said that physical and spiritual death are REAL?"

Ah, I am so glad you asked!

What Does Christ Teach About Death?

In Part 4, we discussed Alma preaching how Christ "took upon Himself death" (Alma 7:12) and what it means to "take" something upon ourselves.

Taking upon ourselves Christ's name (nature) includes, above all else, taking upon ourselves His death.

At first glance, the idea that Christ died seems like old news.  People have been talking about it (and making sculptures of it) for two thousand years.

But what if we haven't fully appreciated what this means for us to "die"?  You see, Christ talked about death a lot.  Which is weird, right, considering He's the life of the world?

For example, Christ said:

   I say unto you,
   Except a corn of wheat
   fall into the ground and die,
   it abideth alone: but if it die,
   it bringeth forth much fruit.

(John 12:24)

Here the Lord appears to flip the script entirely: instead of death being bad because it represents the cessation of life, death is in fact the harbinger of life.

But if we consider this verse in light of our families, I think we're getting close to an important truth.  Why is wheat "alone" while its kernels cling to the stalk?

​Why must wheat fall and die in order to "bring forth much fruit"?

At Death's Door

I think the best way for us to conceive of death is to picture it as a door.  This door's hinges swing both ways.

Death is a turnstile that winnows the righteous from the wicked through a series of births, deaths, rebirths, and re-deaths, and so on.

There's special significance to what Jesus says about doors when we discover doors represent death (and, at the same time, they represent Him!).

   I am the door:
   [remember Paul taught that Christ died to become "the Lord both of the dead and the living" (Romans 14:9)?]
   by me if any man enter in,
   he shall be saved,
   and shall go in and out.

(John 10:9)

Umm, "in and out" of what, precisely?  Life?  Death?  

What is Christ saying?  Well, recall that His children die "in Him" (D&C 42:46-47).  This means, of course, that just as Christ gave us life, so too He brings death.

   In Christ Jesus our Lord,
   I die daily.

(1 Corinthians 15:31)

Whaaaaaat?

Death Is an Ending (a beginning?) ― Not an Annihilation or Cessation of Being

For eternal spiritual beings such as ourselves, death is a two-edged sword.

Death separates one life from another life; it is a comma ― a semi-colon ― in an eternal and unending paragraph for which there are no periods;​

   I have power
   to lay my life down
   [Christ has the power ― not just "over death" ― but of death itself, in Him, as part of His divine and eternal nature]
   and I have power
   to take it again.

(John 10:18)

What's the difference between me dying (say, from becoming a pancake on the interstate after an 18-Wheeler smashes into me) and the manner of Christ's death, which He refers to as "laying down" His life?

   Greater love hath no man
   than this, that a man
   lay down his life
   for his friends.

(John 15:13)

What's the difference between "laying down" one's life and dying?  Is this power to lay down one's life a one-time-use?  How does someone who has power to lay down their life take it up again, or cause others to take up theirs' (i.e., to be resurrected)?

I mean, what was it about Christ's death that allowed Him to give us life?

   For whosoever will save his life
   shall lose it:
   and whosoever will lose his life
   for my sake shall find it.

(Matt. 16:25)

Is there a hidden subtext here, where Christ is not just speaking metaphorically of "losing" our lives?

Does this refer to the way a tree must cast its fruit away in order for new life to emerge?  As opposed, say, to fruit fearfully clinging to the vine, refusing to let go and die, which causes it to rot on the branch, good for nothing?​

​The Parable of Crossing the Channel

If I may, pretend we live on an island and there's a distant land we cannot reach, that lies beyond the great deep.

We greatly desire to reach it, for there (we have heard) it is a promised land of patisseries and pies.

Picture this paradise, this heaven, which has become little more than a fable to the residents here who are separated from it by many waters.

Few travelers have returned to tell the tale; and their tales often sound fanciful to those who hear them.  Accustomed to coarse bread, what could this thing called a "croissant" possibly be?

So pretend the gulf between us and the promised land is like the English Channel; we stand on the British Isles and are surrounded on all sides by water as far as the eye can see; but some nights, standing under the stars, we can almost smell the fresh bread carried on the sea breeze from the Continent.

But there's a catch.

Our prophets tell us that in order to cross the Channel (the chaos) we cannot take anything with us. 

That's right: there is no ark but the body we possess.

Swimming naked through the ocean's churning waves sounds horrible, really, when we think of the sharks; the stinging jelly fish and good chances we'll drown.

The risk is so great, few have even attempted to cross the Channel.

Most who brave the waters dismiss the Prophets' warning and try to cross with their surf boards and sailing boats; with scuba gear and snorkels ― thinking they can cheat the waves.

But they all learn eventually that the journey must be undertaken without purse or scrip.  They return crestfallen, having failed.

Worst of all were those that thought they could simply tie a lasso rope around Christ's waist and have Him pull them across the Channel, not understanding the nature of the journey.

Many questioned why the greatest swimmer of all, Christ, did not own a Swimming School so His children could develop strong muscles and powerful arms with which to carry them over the ocean swells.

And so a number of pop-up shops with foolish swimming instructors dotted the land, teaching the residents to build bigger biceps and to strengthen their quads in order to increase their chance of success against the waves.

One day, Christ appeared.  He gathered the few people who heeded His Prophets together.

"It is time," He said.

The children looked around, confused.  They were untrained; they were weak.  No way they could brave the pitiless ocean and survive.

But Christ simply dived into the sea and began to swim.  Some few (very few) had faith enough to follow.  Naked as little children, they set aside their garments and plunged into the cold waters.

When they had swam out a distance, far enough to have lost sight of the shoreline (and those that had watched them from the beach), Christ revealed the mystery.

For the mystery of the crossing was this: one reached the promised land not by traversing the Channel, but by succumbing to its depths, and being reborn upon the opposite shore.

​Christ showed them how it was done, losing His life.  He disappeared beneath the dark water's surface.

Some of the children had second thoughts, and decided to return to the familiar shore.  But some few (very few, by now), followed their Master's example, and stopped paddling their arms and kicking their feet.

In faith's fierce embrace, they felt the water surround them.  And take them.