On Occasion of My 45th Birthday: What I Wish My Younger-Self Had Known

45 Years Young

I'm turning 45 and I've been reflecting on the road I've travelled so far (and on the road ahead).

I exist now in the hinterland of middle-age, somewhere between "hip" and "hip replacement."

I wanted to share some of the lessons I've learned in this life that I wish my younger-self had known.  (Maybe I'll update this post in another 45 years; there are lots of lessons I still haven't learned.  I've told the Lord He's going to have to work hard to get His money's worth with me.)

I've written previously about growing up in the Church, being taught to "keep the commandments."  That seemed to be the main message I heard as a youth going to Seminary in Utah, attending Sunday School and Young Men's.  As a freshman at BYU preparing for a mission, it was all about 'exact obedience.'

I tried to keep my nose clean; this was a few years before the Brethren "raised the bar" for missionaries, so I squeaked by.

On campus, my first job as a freshman was a janitor.  Between 4 a.m. and 8 a.m. each weekday, I cleaned the toilets and vacuumed the classrooms of the George H. Brimhall building.  As I emptied the trash cans (while trying to stay awake), I dreamed of baptizing thousands and thousands of souls (like Ammon and his brethren).  Of course, this was before I received my mission call to Paris, France.

But here's the thing: humans are creatures of reduction.  It's in our nature to abbreviate, to shorten things down to nubs.  Names become nicknames; "Timothy" became "Tim" (except to my mother).  The gospel, like everything else, becomes a jumble of acronyms if we're not careful. 

So it was with "obedience."  Especially with obedience!  We have a way of shrinking the gospel to the point we start believing "faithfulness" to Christ means doing what the Church wants ― you know, avoiding alcohol and R-rated movies and heavy petting.  Getting good grades.  Keeping curfew.

​I was raised as a Pharisee, of the tribe of Happy Valley, committing the sin of reductionism ― leaving the weightier matters undone while feeling pleased with my offering of mint and anise (Matt. 23:23).

Now I realize, looking back, that I wasn't actually taught "the gospel" at Church while growing up.  Instead I was taught "gospel living."

You might think "gospel living" would be near-adjacent to the gospel itself (almost interchangeable), but in fact they are not.  They could not be farther apart.  (Further apart?  See, lots to learn.)

But don't worry, it turned out okay; everything turned out fine for me.  Why?  Well, I had awesome parents, which helped.  But I'll tell you a secret.  It was because I had the scriptures ― and they contained the fulness of the gospel (even if my Sunday School lessons did not, which resembled the doctrinal equivalent of the 1970s baseball baptisms).

Equipped with the word of God, I was able to get by, rolling my eyes at the nonsense in the Church.

Worthiness Issues

I recall as a youth going every six months to see the bishop, from the time I was twelve until I was twenty-one (by then I had graduated to my mission president).  These men interviewed me regarding my "worthiness" (read: sexual activities).

As an adult now, I see the irony of the church wrapping its purity culture within a theology that glorifies eternal procreation, making coitus the crowning, defining faculty of exalted beings ― and at the same time, the sin next to murder.

I suspect our LDS doctrine would fit neatly within the context of the ancient fertility cults and their temple worship described in the Old Testament (remember Asherah's "groves" that the Lord condemned?).

   And Samuel spake
   unto all the house of Israel,   
   saying:
 
   If ye do return unto the Lord
   with all your hearts,
   then put away the strange gods
   and Ashtaroth from among you,
   and prepare your hearts
   unto the Lord,
   and serve him only:
   and he will deliver you.

(1 Sam. 7:3)

I fear we are not so different from our Israelite forbearers, who served many masters, and who glorified and venerated the procreative act religiously as the sacred symbol of divine union (cue: eternal marriage doctrine; cue plural marriage doctrine; and don't forget Elder Holland's talk on Souls, Symbols and Sacraments) ― despite the fact that Jesus taught an entirely different gospel than the one we've dressed in sexual ethics (albeit sprinkled with a dash of Victorian prudishness for good measure, the panache of puritanism).

This becomes important, I think, when we realize it has led to faith dwindling in our churches; we have relegated faith to the nose-bleed section while leasing the skybox to tithing and chastity ― things which, let's be honest, were not high on Christ's list (as evidenced by the fact He declared the scandalous truth that harlots would enter the kingdom of God before the scribes and Pharisees (Matt. 21:31)).

I share this to give you a glimpse at how confused my spiritual antennae were as a youth, being told by Elder Gene R. Cook to not listen to the sweaty rock-and-roll music of sex-crazed Mick Jagger, while at the same time reading Brigham Young opine on the mechanics of Heavenly Father's sexual relations with Mary.

Anyway, young people are not stupid; I picked up on the signals, on the way leaders prioritized their peculiar brand of chastity over faith, which drove them to ask me probing questions about whether I was controlling my hormones, but never about my beliefs.

Case in point: during my pre-marriage temple recommend interview as a 27-year-old man, I sat down with a counselor in the Stake Presidency who asked me if I let my fiancée lie on top of me when we watched movies on the sofa at my apartment ― and I nearly derailed the whole shebang when I answered truthfully, "Yes!"

This all contrasted with the fact I was never asked whether I loved my neighbor or held a grudge against my brother.  It revealed to me what was truly important in the Church.  Sex: check.  Faith: not so much.

If you asked me why I think we've created such a sexualized religion (in which TK Smoothies are a thing), and why we've saturated the gospel with managing the sexual behavior of the members, I would say it's because Faith is too abstract; too squirrelly.  It was far easier for my leaders to track objective measures, like whether I smoked cigarettes or drank coffee or made it to third base, to gauge my worthiness, than it was for them to look at my heart and real intent.

Searching for Faith

I am not what you would call a "visionary man."  But in graduate school I had a vivid dream in which I found myself at a meeting of the Twelve and First Presidency, and able to ask them anything.  At the time I was a curious soul, and I had a million questions.  But strangely I found my tongue tied.

I awoke and understood the interpretation of the dream: the answers I sought were not to be found from man or by men (Gal. 1:12).  In order to learn the deep things of God, I knew I would need to be taught from above.

And so it became my custom to go to the Lord ― not to General Conference talks ― seeking wisdom.

This turned out to be a good thing, in the end, learning spiritual self-reliance.  Because I've concluded based on my experience in the Church that we do not believe ― not really, at least not with any great conviction ― the idea that "men [are] saved by faith" (Moroni 7:26).

Oh, calm down.  It's true we talk a good game (Isaiah 29:13), and we talk about faith all the time at Church.  But if you listen carefully, you'll hear that our faith is not so much in Christ, but in having prophets who hold authority to perform the saving ordinances that allow us to make covenants in the temple, without which we could not be exalted; all of which is sponsored by Christ, of course, much as Motorola sponsors the World Cup; we won't necessarily see Christ out on the soccer field, but maybe we'll catch a glimpse of Him on the jumbotron if we "stay in the boat" / "stay on the covenant path" / "stay close to the Brethren."  Just stay.  That's the important thing.

Ask yourself: if we stripped away our faith in the Church's machinery, what's left over?  Ask yourself: is it really "faith" if it is placed in priesthood keys rather than in Christ's mercy?

I have friends and family who see no distinction; who view faith in the Church as the same thing as faith in Christ (for isn't it His church?).

But I fear we have been deceived (D&C 45:57).  Just look at the fruits among us.  Faith has become a wallflower at the Stake Youth Dance: present, surely, but overshadowed by the loud music and strobe lights, the spiked punch.  Those are the things that get our blood pumping; they are the things we preach ― like chastity, tithing, duty, covenants, the Word of Wisdom, and a thousand other things.

Instead of raising an ensign to the nations as a city set on a hill, we raised money and called it our Ensign (Peak), buying the hill's real estate for our investment trust fund.

So please don't misunderstand: the Latter-day Saints are a people of faith.  I am merely pointing out our faith is not firmly planted in Christ's merits alone, but moreso placed in the Church's merits.

We crave carnal security: the concrete assurances we're on the straight-and-narrow ― things like tithing receipts and breathalyzer tests and ministering statistics; titles and offices and keys and covenants and keywords.  These are the tools with which we have dug a pit for our faith, all the while telling ourselves we were laying the foundation of Zion, shovel-to-shoulder.

And thus I was trained to prove my candidacy for salvation through obedience, and to demonstrate my bona fides by actively participating in tedious, uninspired meetings and by staying afterwards to take down the folding chairs; it was noted whether I accepted assignments without complaint or turned down callings; my reputation was discussed in leadership meetings and Ward Council as people reported on whether I showed up to help the move-ins and move-outs; they watched how I dressed my little children, whether they wore black, polished Sunday shoes or if my theology was too liberal, resembling Birkenstocks over laced Oxfords.

And (most importantly) whether I held my tongue as a good "church-broke" member, as a sheep before the shearer is dumb.
​
These and a thousand other details were monitored and weighed and measured ― but never, ever, was I asked to take seriously the belief I was saved through faith in Christ.

No, I was always taught to take seriously the fact that I was saved through faith in His Church.

Nepo Babies

I'm a nepo baby; I am a child of Christ and a son of God.

As I mentioned earlier, my lifeline to God was studying the scriptures.  My favorite teaching on salvation was found in the words of Alma the younger, after he rose from his two-day coma (remember, the time he nearly died of shock after seeing the angel of the Lord?).

I would like us to take a page out of Alma's playbook.  Alma's words contrast sharply with today's mantra to "stay on the covenant path and you'll be saved."

Mosiah 27:24-25:

   I have repented of my sins

Well, this is interesting.  Notice he spoke in past-tense.  "I have repented."  Right away we learn something that is at odds with how we teach "repentance" in the Church.

You see, Alma just rose from the near-grave, and had repented while he was comatose.  On the other hand, we make repentance much harder than necessary (just read Miracle of Forgiveness to get an idea). 

But here is Alma saying he repented without months-and-months of successful check-ins with the bishop regarding his abstinence!  He hasn't even had time to make restitution.  Come on, wasn't he one of the "vilest" of sinners; where's the apology tour?  Let's wait a year and see whether he's sincere or not.

Nope.  Two days!  All it took was for Alma to cry out in anguish, in the gall of bitterness, "O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me" (Alma 36:18).  That's it.  And he was forgiven.  Clean slate.  Past-tense.

And here we thought the Pharisees were the only ones who "shut the door of heaven in people's faces" (Matt. 23:13, NIV).  Hardly.  We've got a Church Handbook that is just as effective for a good slap-in-the-face.

   and have been redeemed
   of the Lord

What?  Are you kidding me: this was the guy that went about trying to destroy the church of God last weekend, who did not believe in Christ at all just two days ago.  And now all of the sudden the Lord and Alma are bosom buddies?  The Lord redeemed him?  Just like that?

I thought Alma needed to enter into a series of progressive covenants and receive the baptism of fire and have 1st Presidency approval for his rebaptism; didn't he need to make his calling and election sure, and to be carried atop a mountain to receive his temple tokens and all that?  How dare he be redeemed so easily!  It offends our modern sensibilities.

   behold, 
   I am born of the Spirit.

No, no, no.  This is not how it is supposed to work!  No, Alma, you don't get to cry out during a single, pitiful moment and get reborn; you haven't earned it!

Maybe years from now, with enough prayer and fasting and penitence (Alma 5:46), you can say this.  But not yet.

   And the Lord said unto me:
   Marvel not

See why the Lord has to say this?  It is a marvel.  For some reason we are shocked by God's grace and mercy; it runs counter our sense of justice.  It seems to knock our socks off every time the Lord waves His hand and declares, "Be thou whole," as if we were expecting Him to smite us instead (or rather, to smite our neighbor who really deserves it).

Of all the reasons God must weep, the fact we are so stingy with His lovingkindness must be near the top of the list.

   that all mankind
   yea, men and women, 
   all nations, kindreds, tongues
   and people

Wow, that's thorough!  Seems this applies to everyone; a universal condition, which is exceedingly rare in scripture.  I am all ears.  He's about to tell us what we must all do.

   must be born again

Now, to the Church's credit, we do have Sunday School lessons on being born again (usually when we cover John 3 where Jesus teaches this to Nicodemus).

What does it mean to be born again?  How are we born again?  How do we know if we have been reborn?
  
   and thus they become
   new creatures   

Well, yes, we've heard this before; the apostle Paul talked a lot about it; King Benjamin preached it; King Lamoni experienced it.  But this is metaphorical, right?  We all know leopards don't change their spots.

Now, please pay attention to this next part; everything I have shared has led up to this single word: "inherit."

   and unless they do this,
   they can in nowise inherit
   the kingdom of God.

(Mosiah 27:24-25)

Ask yourself: who inherits something?  It appears our exaltation is not something you can earn, or merit, or obtain by any other means.  We aren't saved because of x, y, z.  

We are saved because we are Christ's children.  Exaltation can only be inherited.

And who inherits?  Well, obviously the answer is: an heir.  And who are heirs of eternal lives?  Who does God bequeath His entire estate to upon the Cross, upon the death of the Testator?

   Surprise! ​

Wills and Trusts and Executors

If faith is the work of creation, then the work of repentance is re-creation.

   For he is the mediator
   of the new testament, 
   that . . . they might receive
   the promise of eternal
   inheritance.

Ah, there's that word again: inheritance.

   For where a testament is,
   there must also of necessity be
   the death of the testator.

How very lawyerly; I feel right at home.  God is really good at Estate Planning; I mean, He got us to this estate, hasn't He?

   Whereupon [a] testament
   [cannot be] dedicated
   without blood.

(Hebrews 9:15-16, 18)

I like to think of faith as being represented by water; repentance by blood.  In Christ's living water we are cleansed; in His blood we are reborn.

Spiritual justification is not a static condition; we are dynamic, eternal beings who are working in the dirt of this mortality and clay to harvest fruit; we're bound to get our hands dirty.  No one expects a farmer to keep his clothes clean while out in the field milking the cows and shoveling hay.

Christ's living water is like a stream running through the middle of the pasture, this earth; the farmer can wash the muck from his sleeves as needed; it is ever-present, endlessly flowing.  There is no fence or gate restricting access to the bubbling brook.  There's enough water for all of us.  All are welcome.  We are literally, spiritually, awash in its currents.  Right now.

This is why our sins are of no great matter to God; He merely has to wave his hand and declare, "Be thou clean" (Matt. 8:3) ― and we are!

Our sins fall away and are forgotten as insignificantly as the raw chicken you washed from your hands in the kitchen sink last week when making dinner.  Have you thought of it since?  Of course not.

It's as easy for God to make us clean as it is for a mother to remove ticks from her child's back after playing in the forest.  I mean, we don't fault the child for being dirty; we fault the mother if she leaves her child that way!

​So it is with God: it is His business, not ours, really, to make us clean.

No Unclean Thing

"But Tim," someone says, "Isn't it true that 'no unclean thing' can enter into God's presence?"

   And no unclean thing
   can enter into his kingdom;
   therefore nothing
   entereth into his rest
   save it be those
   who have washed
   their garments
   in my blood

Well this is interesting.  Blood is different than water.  While blood contains water (about half of it is water), we find far, far more in it than just H2O.

We don't bathe in blood.  Blood stains; it leaves an indelible mark.  If you're a criminal, you'll want to avoid leaving blood behind at the crime scene because blood carries our genetic makeup and fingerprint (just some free advice). 

Whereas we use water to cleanse the outer-vessel (the outside of something), blood is a property of the inner-man, found inside us.

The question is, then, how can we wash our garments in Christ's blood (is this talking about our bodies, the garment of the holy priesthood, that clothes our spirit?).

Christ tells us how to get His blood in our veins:

   because of their faith,
   and the repentance
   of all their sins.

(3 Nephi 27:19)

So Christ gives us a very simple answer: have faith and repent.  I want to suggest that sanctification is found NOT in receiving Christ's blood, but in becoming Christ's blood ― i.e., His "seed" or children.  This is how we inherit eternal life.  There is nothing eternal outside of His blood.

But unless you're a butcher, when are you covered in blood?  The only time we're "covered" in blood from head-to-toe is when we're born, during childbirth.

   Ye must be born again
   into the kingdom of heaven,
   of water, and of the Spirit,
   and be cleansed by blood,
   even the blood of mine
   Only Begotten;

   For by the water
   ye keep the commandment;
   by the Spirit ye are justified,
   and by the blood
   ye are sanctified.

(Moses 6:59-60)

This imagery evokes baptism (death and resurrection), which is a symbol of rebirth.  Be aware that the faith we have prior to our spiritual rebirth and the faith we have afterwards are different creatures, as a caterpillar differs from a butterfly.

Faith will always draw us unto Christ; but after we become His child ― endowed with His blood ― our faith emerges from its cocoon and takes flight.

In Christ Jesus we are orphans no more, but children claimed.