Parting the Veil and Conversing with the Lord

"God, Are You There?"

   How does one emulsify
      past and future?
   Grief exists only now
      as a fleece, a blindfold

   ― "Lanolin"

I keep telling myself as I write these epistles to make them shorter and more concise (I know your lives are busy).  I apologize that brevity is not one of my gifts.

I have enjoyed writing the Approaching Zion Series; I have one or two more posts forthcoming to conclude that Series (about loving our enemies and the Millennium), but as I was working on a draft, writing about the great serpent Apep, I felt to pause and change topics.

I wish to say a few things about parting the veil.  I have appreciated your feedback and comments and have felt my heart grow closer to yours.  I love you and pray for everyone who reads this blog, that the Lord may lighten your burden and prosper your path.

In that spirit this post arose out of the blue.  I know many of us wish for a richer communion with Christ and are often frustrated by the flesh.

I recall reading once about President Spencer W. Kimball's wrestle with the Lord, who said, "What I wanted and felt I must have was an assurance that I was acceptable to the Lord.  And the assurance did not come.  I threw myself on the ground and wept and prayed and pleaded with the Lord to let me know where I stood.  How I prayed!  How I suffered!" (Edward and Andrew Kimball, Spencer W. Kimball (1977), pp. 189-195, edited for brevity.)

The struggle is real; I am willing to take a leap of faith, if you'll jump with me.

"Let There Be Light"

Recently I asked the Lord to teach me how to create with light.

In the beginning God said:

   (1) Let
   (2) there be
   (3) light.

(Genesis 1:3)

   (1)  The word "let" was not a command.  It was an open invitation.  God spoke and the light responded ― not by force or compulsion, but in faith.

The lesson here is that God did not impose light; He did not act unilaterally.  It was a process that allowed for the elements and intelligence to respond, to act.  It was mutual.

The light responded to Him because it sensed His love and warmth.

   (2)  The next part, "there be," indicates God desired to create something that was different, new.  He wished for light to exist in the void, to extend into chaos.

The lesson here is that it is okay for us to desire something different, new.  We are weavers of God's garment from the threads of chaos.  God's faith is so great, nothing is impossible to Him.

We are co-creators with God in speaking into the void, and saying, "Let there be light."  Light moves in response to the exchange of grace.

   (3)  What was the light referring to?  What is the light that shines in darkness?  It is intelligence, or the light of truth.

A Conversation with the Lord

​   We summoned Him to earth
   our Savior Lord of All
   His broken heart
​   through which we burst
   Gehenna's gateless wall.

      ― "Jesus is All"
​
Last week I had a conversation with the Lord that went something like this:

Lord:  "Doubt not, fear not."

Me:  "How is doubt manifesting in my life, Father?  Show me, what do I fear, so I may overcome it?"

Lord:  "What do you desire above all else?"

Me:  "To know You!"

Lord:  "No, what do you want more than anything?"

Me:   ". . . "

I was puzzled.  What was my heart’s true desire?  Beneath the layers of self-deception, what did my soul hunger for most?

I imagined myself as a sand upon the seashore, one of countless others; I saw myself in Christ's palm, and His finger touched my grain of sand so that I shone with His light like one of the Brother of Jared's stones.

Lord:  "You want to be loved."

I knew as soon as I heard those words they were true.  I have long harbored a feeling of unworthiness, and have constructed so much of my life around that belief, as if to prove it.

We become self-fulfilling prophecies.

Me [crying]:  "Well, of course I do!  But isn’t that a good thing?!  Isn’t your love the greatest thing in the world?  I want to be loved by You."

Lord:  "No.  While I do love you, your greatest desire, your greatest need, is to be loved . . . by yourself."

Self-love?  I don't want to be selfish; give me a martyr's love, not the narcissistic, egotistical self-love of the world.

But then the Lord taught me a sobering truth.

Lord:  "Child, you alone possess the power to fill the emptiness you feel within you; you must learn to love yourself even as you love me.  To know me, you must know the true love of self."

Okay, but how?  Isn’t loving me God's job?  I thought I was supposed to 'lose my life' ― what did He mean?

Me:  "Lord, if I knew how to love myself, don’t you think I would have by now?  How can I love something so unworthy, so imperfect?  How can you?"

Love Letter
a poem
​
You tried too hard
(I loved that about you)
uncomfortable in creaseless new leather
, self-conscious
a wooden leg wishing to belong
longing for company on crowded decks
seen unseen
 
Your heart was a treasure chest
waiting to be opened
, shared
but it remained buried
beneath the sounds of scurvy-sores
the musket-fire muffled in a tub of tears
 
     You loved everyone
     , more than you did yourself
 
You relished the idea of life
more than the living of it
, so I have placed this message in a bottle
and cast it upon the tide to find you
 
As two whales mating
(I do not know the mechanics of such things)
I wanted you to know the feel
of weight and water and whalesong
, of hope harpooned
in the sea spray of a mighty and joyous love
 
     This is the message I send myself
     , from myself
     my echo-Being
     loving all past versions
     of me

'Veiled' Meaning​

   Where veil can be pierced
   upon carnelian-churned tides
   spreading God’s garment
   we wait

   ― "Dew from Heaven"

It seems like the Lord is always trying to get us to lift some kind of veil from our faces.  "And their scales of darkness shall begin to fall from their eyes" (2 Nephi 30:6).  

What is the "veil?"  The scriptures use the term "veil" to refer to something that separates us from God's presence.  But is this a literal barrier, or is it an illusion created by unbelief?  Or both?

Well, for starters, there is not just one veil: there are veils within veils within veils that darken our minds.

​But the "veil shall be rent," the Lord promises, so we may truly "know that I AM" (D&C 67:10).

Wouldn't it be nice to part the veil?  We've inherited a Restoration that started with the First Vision theophany, followed by an angelic visit in Joseph's bedroom, and then an appearance from a resurrected John the Baptist.

With such an auspicious beginning, it makes us wonder how the Restoration became so tepid today.

We are naturally seeking for something more.  Over the years I have read a lot of books on how to pierce the veil ― you know the ones, the "Second Comforter" type books trying to teach us to have our baptism of fire or receive the visitation of Jesus.

I confess these books don't appeal to me much anymore; I haven't found them very helpful.

I appreciate the authors' efforts, I do.  But though my bookshelves are littered with books by people trying to help us "see" God (often claiming personal experience), I have not found Him in their pages.

I confess Mormon mysticism is a guilty pleasure of mine: who can resist a bit of spiritual voyeurism, reading about other people's spiritual visions, Near Death Experiences, angelic visitations, and Great White Throne ceremonies?

Perhaps you've experienced more success with these books than I have, packed as they are with spiritual formulas and flow-charts and recipes for parting the veil.

"A bit of flour, a splash of salt, don't forget to fast and pray, set the oven to 350 degrees precisely, and if the sun rises at 6:03 a.m. on a day the Yellow Crested Warbler leaves its nest and sings its mating song. . . ."

I guess my own experience has shown me God doesn't work that way.  At least not in my life.  The gospel I believe in is not like a dishwasher machine operator's manual (and if it were, we might as well become deists).

Operating a machine is not the same as having a relationship; relationships require a lot more hand washing (John 13:5-6).

For me, a relationship with a living God is far more messy and complicated, with far more bumps and bruises and sleeping on the couch than the books describe.

A Matter of Spirit

"Reading the experience of others, or the revelation given to them, can never give us a comprehensive view of our condition and true relation to God.  Knowledge of these things can only be obtained by experience."

(Joseph Smith, History of the Church, 6:50–51; from a discourse given on Oct. 9, 1843.)

We read those words from Joseph Smith and think, "Ah, yes, an experiential faith.  That's what I want."

But what kind of experiences, exactly, with God are we seeking? 

Often we want, deep down, materialistic manifestations of God.  We don't think of it as seeking for "signs" necessarily; it would just be nice to have a confirmation we're on the right track.

I understand, I really do!  We want some clear evidence (an angel, an audible voice from heaven) to know where we stand, or that we're on the right path ― as if getting truth from a four-winged creature's lips is more trustworthy than that of the still, small voice.  (At least then we'd know we're not crazy!)

The Pharisees preferred a tactile religion, too: one of carnal commandments and outward ordinances, based on holy lineages and priesthood pedigrees.  Very flesh-and-bone.  But faith is spirit-and-light.

The law of Moses gave the people things they could measure, feel, touch, and see.  Their temples were filled with bronze oxen and animal offal and the smell of incense.  Imagine it!  The Levite temple was a feast for the five physical senses.

But focused on the physical aspects of their faith as they were, they were blind to Jesus (the spiritual light of the world).

Yes, it would be comforting to have a solid spirituality filled with holy grails rather than the flimsiness of faith. 

And this is why, ironically, our churches often have the unfortunate effect of lessening our faith (rather than increasing it) by encouraging us to rely on materialistic faith-substitutes ― what Nephi calls 'carnal security' (2 Nephi 28:21).

Walking by faith leaves so much open to interpretation; we begin to question our own spiritual experiences and discernment.  Give us the word of God on concrete stone tablets, carved by God's own finger.

Or give us the certainty of a high priest who takes two goats on Yom Kippur and makes a sacrifice to God to atone for our sins, and then our spirits will know peace.

But the faith-alternative?  To become "a living sacrifice" (Romans 12:1)?  To walk by faith?  Why must we walk by faith's fire rather than by the light of Babylon's more-sure bonfire?

And so we remain like children, spiritually, dependent upon external evidences and authorities.

We keep looking for God outside of ourselves; in talking donkeys and flaming swords and in men at walnut pulpits.

But to grow into the stature of Christ as men and women of God requires us to step away from the things that conform to this world (Romans 12:2).

The Church, for some reason, seems to prefer a Levitical approach, building temples and Gospel Living apps for the iPhone ― a decidedly materialistic approach to God not unlike our ancestors who built the Tower of Babel to reach heaven (perhaps this is why it lacks the power of Melchizedek.)

For the veil is not parted by our carnal (or natural) mind, but by faith (D&C 67:12).

In place of a living faith, our leaders suggest we offer the Lord our "effort," the lifelessness of wings that cannot fly.  And so we go on acting like barnyard chickens pecking for scratch instead of behaving as the Lord's eagles.

Paul taught (HERE'S THE IMPORTANT PART TO REMEMBER), all "veils are done away in Christ" (2 Corinthians 3:14).

I repeat: all veils are done away in Christ.

Beware of those who wish to impose curtains between us and God (particularly if they claim they can part the curtain if we collude in their priestcraft).

This is why I have no checklists; I have no patented priesthoods or keywords to sell that will cause Kolob to take notice.  No Five Points of Fellowship with which to greet an angel.

All I have is my faith and an ocean of love.  But that has yielded a more abundant spiritual life than all the rest ever could, if you can believe it.

Because there is no Yellow Brick Road to follow; there is only our faith in the promises of the living God that can lead us to a better world.

Don't Let Go

The way the gospel is often preached, we might view ourselves as a child on a road trip who is left at a gas station when their parents forget about them and drive off in the family station wagon.

But our Father is not forgetful.

The story of Jesus feeding the five thousand in John 6 contains an important lesson for us.

Just think of what the Savior can do with our lives when compared with what He could do with five loaves of barley bread and two tiny fishes.

You might think a bit of bread and a couple of small fishes would be inadequate to feed the multitude; His disciples certainly did.  Likewise, you may think there's not enough love to fill the void you feel within.  I certainly have.

But I say, when blessed by God's hand, there was enough to spare, until all were filled.

   And Jesus took the loaves;
   and when he had
   given thanks, he distributed
   to the disciples,
   and the disciples to them
   that were set down.

(John 6:11)

None were missed.  No one was skipped, from the greatest to the least.  All partook.

Yet we think God will forget about us in our desperate hour?  Hardly.  We have His personal attention.

But the most important part, for me, is what happened at the end of the story.  What did Jesus do with the leftovers?

After everyone had eaten, there remained basketfuls of remnants.  Did Jesus discard the remnants?  Does Jesus waste anything?  Did He cast the scraps aside?  No!

Look (and apply these words to us):

   When they were filled,
   He said unto his disciples,
   Gather up the fragments
   that remain,
   that nothing be lost.

(John 6:12)

If Jesus cares so much about bread, so that "nothing be lost," do you not think He cares far more about us, His own children?

We are not forgotten; we are not cast off.  We shall be "gathered up" into His embrace.

Imagine hearing your child was injured, wouldn't you rush to their side and clutch them for dear life?  Does not God himself clutch us to His bosom, and heal us every whit?

Have faith that God holds you close, right now, and will never let go.

   My sheep hear my voice,
   and I KNOW THEM,
   and they follow me:

   And I give unto them
   eternal life; and they 
   shall never perish,
   neither shall any man
   pluck them out of my hand.

   My Father, which gave them me,
   is greater than all.

(John 10:28-29)

The very thing you seek, you hold already in your heart.  "Let there be light!"  Ask, and it shall be given.  Knock.