“Feel the Spirit” is a phrase that’s really common among us Mormons.  We say it all the time, usually in reference to coming closer to God or increasing our personal spirituality.  Yet the phrase itself denotes a passive state of mind, one where we’re just waiting around for God to make us feel good.

That doesn’t sit well with me, because I know that that’s not the way God works.  Yes, He gives us comfort–after all, “Comforter” is one of the names of the Holy Ghost–but that’s not all that He does, and certainly not the most important thing either.

The Holy Ghost’s mission is to testify of Christ and bring us unto Him, and He does that primarily by communicating eternal truths and giving us personal guidance and inspiration.  He doesn’t just exist to make us feel good–quite the opposite, in fact.  Through His still, small voice, He pushes us to repent, be baptized, keep our covenants, and endure faithfully to the end.  If we’re just sitting around doing nothing, He won’t come to us–or if He does, it’s usually to kick us in the pants.

I submit that instead of the term “feel the Spirit,” we should use the term “receive the Spirit.” This is in connection with the baptismal ordinance, which ends “and say unto you, receive the Holy Ghost.”

To receive the Spirit, we need to be striving to follow the gospel–to exercise faith, continually repent, keep our baptismal covenants, and follow the promptings and inspiration of the Holy Ghost.  We need to make place in our lives to listen to that still small voice–to tune out the distractions and actively listen.  We need to humble ourselves so that our hearts are contrite enough to follow His guidance, regardless of how it seems to contradict our own plans and desires.

In short, I hope that in speaking of the Holy Ghost, we can recognize that inspiration is not just a “feel good” thing.  It’s a vital part of our eternal salvation, and as such it requires an element of work.  Let’s not forget that.

I graduated about two months ago from college, and since then, I’ve found myself reading scriptures a lot more frequently than I used to when I was in school.  I guess it’s one of the benefits of having more mental space and/or free time–instead of constantly rushing from project to project, I can structure my days however I want.  That’s WAY nice.

I’ve been making good progress in the Arabic Book of Mormon.  Right now, I’m in Mosiah chapter 13, where Abinadi is preaching to King Noah and his people.  Maybe in a later post, I’ll have to break down Abinadi’s message, because it is absolutely AWESOME.  The way he responds to King Noah’s priests’ attacks by teaching them about the Savior, and how Christ saves, not the law–it’s awesome.  I love it.  More on that later.

One interesting thing that struck me was the fact that Abinadi disappeared for two years between the start of his ministry and the epic finish, when he was martyred.  Where did he go for those two years?  Why did he stop preaching?  What else was he doing?

Perhaps he needed those two years to gather his courage and commit himself to the Lord’s work.  Perhaps he was scared of being killed and needed that time to overcome that fear.  I don’t know–it’s just my own speculation–but I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case.

Too often, I think we treat the prophets as if they’re somehow these superhuman beings–beings who are immune to temptations, devoid of weaknesses and flaws, and always choose the right, without any kind of hesitation or fear.  I don’t think that’s a healthy way to read the scriptures.

When we think of the prophets as these superhuman beings, it’s easy to think that they’re out of our league–that we’ll never be as obedient as Nephi, as bold as Abinadi, or as repentant as Alma.  They slowly cease to become role models and start to become idols, lovely pictures of righteousness that we love to look at but generally keep on a shelf somewhere.

Instead, when I read the scriptures, I find it much more  edifying to look at the ways in which the prophets are human–not to point out flaws, but to say “yes, that was something he struggled with and this is how he overcame it.” By humanizing them, I realize that I can be like them–that we’re all disciples of Christ together, and that through His grace, we can gain the strength to accomplish miracles in spite of our shortcomings.

I wonder what happened to Abinadi in those two years.  If I ever write an LDS novel, that’s one story that I’d love to write.  Maybe he met a girl…

Anyways, those are some of my thoughts on Mosiah right now.  I’ll be sure to update this blog more often–my goal is to read from the scriptures every day, and I’m sure that will give me lots of stuff to write about.  Expect this blog to become a lot more active in the near future.

Sheryl has had a very rough life.  I don’t know all the details (and I don’t really want to), but I know that she has a very controlling and manipulative mother and, if I remember correctly, an abusive father.  It didn’t help that she’s mentally  retarded in some ways–not completely, but she doesn’t have the capacity to be fully independent without some support.  Fortunately, her sisters have taken very good care of her.

She was baptized the year of the Boston Temple open house, and I remember talking with her on the way up and back.  She was very negative and pessimistic, about life in general as well as her specific trials and hardships.  No matter what we talked about, the conversation eventually became about one of her many physical illnesses, or about the bad situation with her mother, or about how her family didn’t want her to join the church and she was worried about that, etc.

As a new convert, she required a lot of care and attention, and my father and I were called to home teach her.  She didn’t have a way to get herself to church, so most of the time we gave her a ride.  Every Sunday, she would be complaining about one thing or another.  However, she was a good person, once you got past all the negativity.  Pop and I did our best to smile, nod, and be her friend.

Over time, she started changing.  The church reached out to her, and she was touched by the support.  In addition, she had the missionaries over as often as she could, and kept in close touch with the missionary who baptized her (they developed a very special relationship–to this day, she always talks about him).

I remember the year before I left on my mission, she gave a testimony that was amazingly powerful.  It wasn’t particularly eloquent, but it was 100% genuine and sincere.  In it, she told the story of her conversion and how it’s changed her since.  None of the tears were faked–Sheryl never was one to let you know anything other than what was on her mind (those of you who know her are smiling right now, I can tell )

When I came back, she was almost a completely different person.  She still had her health problems and bouts with depression, but she didn’t complain hardly at all.  Instead of talking about her family problems, she would talk about her church friends and how much she loved the ward.  She was still having the missionaries over regularly, and there was a very different spirit in her apartment.

Then I went out to college, and I hardly saw her–only briefly for Christmas or summer break, for the few weeks I was home during the summer.  Even then, I could tell that she was still changing.  It was not difficult to tell that the church had changed everything in her life, not only bringing a new spirit, but in general quality of life ways as well.  Even though my father was no longer her home teacher, she still kept in close contact with my family, and became one of my mother’s close friends.

When I talked with her now, I was utterly surprised to see how much she’d changed.  The first thing she did was ask how I was doing.  When I told her I’m graduating soon and talked about how I’m uncertain about what’s going to come next, she told me she’s confident that Heavenly Father will be with me, “because that’s what he’s there for.” She asked about my sisters, about Kate and Danny, how they’re doing, about how good of a person Danny is, etc.

When I asked her how she was doing, she said she was doing well–that she hasn’t been sick all year.  She also talked about the ward, how much it’s grown, how much she loves it–I think the only negative thing she said was that she doesn’t like to sit in the overflow because the chairs are hard, so she has to come early instead!

Looking at her, I have to say it’s amazing how much the gospel changes people.  I remember a time when part of me dreaded talking with her (don’t tell her I said that!), just because she would always be so negative.  It took work to be her friend.  But now, after that conversation we just had, I honestly feel refreshed and energized.  She is a good person, and the gospel has brought out the absolute best in her and helped her to flourish.

The scriptures say that we can have faith because every good thing comes from God.  I know that that is true.  Through His sacrifice and atonement, Jesus Christ can change our lives and turn us around.  We only need to trust in Him and become His disciples.  If we do what we can, giving Him our all, He does what we cannot–He changes us in ways that we cannot change ourselves.  This is my testimony, and I offer it to you in the name of my Savior, who is Jesus Christ.  Amen.

This week, one of the chapters was on political timing.  Basically, if you want to get something done in government, you have to propose it at the right time.  The last week of the fiscal year isn’t the best time to propose a new program, for example, just as tax hikes or cutting programs aren’t probably going to happen in an election year.  All very practical advice.

I surprised myself in the reading response, however.  This is what I wrote:

Joseph Smith ran into the problem of timing when he petitioned the federal government for redress.  What was he to do, however?  The need for help was urgent, as the saints were homeless on the banks of the Mississippi river, and needed aid immediately.  Also, the matter at hand was a moral one, and should have transcended petty politics–human rights should be universal, and their protection should apply during election seasons as much as during non-election years.  However, because of the political cycles in Washington, the saints did not receive redress for their grievances, Martin Van Buren purportedly stating “your cause is just,” but I can’t take it up because I’d “lose the vote in Missouri.”

However, in the Lord’s eyes, this was no excuse for failure to act.  In D&C 123:6, the Lord commanded the saints to petition for redress so that “[they] can fully and completely claim that promise which shall call him forth from his hiding place; and also that the whole nation may be left without excuse before he can send forth the power of his mighty arm.” The Lord’s arm was manifest in the horrific Civil War, which tore the nation apart less than 21 years later.

If the Lord does not honor the ups and downs of political cycles as a legitimate reason for government inaction, why should we?  Or is this a case where we need to be “wise as serpents, yet harmless as doves,” and take yet another Machiavellian approach to politics?

So what do you think of that?  Do you agree or disagree?  Are political cycles natural and expected, or are they reprehensible because they make politicians abandon their moral imperative?

This got me to thinking about my own life, and the quirks I’ve noticed.  It was hard, at first, because I don’t usually notice this kind of stuff–not on a day to day basis, anyway.  Part of that probably comes from falling into a routine–for example, February is usually a month that flies by without me having any idea what I did in that time.

When I thought about it some more, though, I noticed a few things.  This past month, for example, I noticed that whenever I read from my pocket Book of Mormon while riding the metro/bus, I became more aware of the people around me.  It didn’t really matter what I read, but it’s happened just about every time.

Yesterday started out as a particularly bad day at the office.  I’m not sure exactly what it was, but all the little things (like the phone ringing, other people getting in each others’ way, etc) were just going wrong.  I could tell it wasn’t going to be pretty.

My supervisor asked me to get a library book from Georgetown.  I made the long trip over there, still in a sour mood, only to find out they didn’t have it.  Plus, I was late for a conference, so my other coworker had to run off to cover it, which really ticked her off.

So I was sitting in the crowded DC Circulator bus listening to some music, when I realized “hey, I’ve got my Book of Mormon in my pocket.  It’s been days since I read my scriptures–why don’t I do that?” So I opened up to 1 Nephi 8 (I started from the beginning a couple of weeks ago), and read the whole chapter in the ten minutes it took to get back to K street.

Nothing I read was particularly earthshaking, but the thought came into my head that I could decide not to have a bad day.  So I decided to change my mood around, and the rest of the day was quite awesome!  I ended up running to the DC public library, getting lost in Chinatown (WAY more awesome than being stuck in the office), meeting a lot of nice, helpful people, and just in general having a good day.

It wasn’t a particularly life-changing experience, but it is one of the “small and simple things” that shows me it’s absolutely essential to keep a balance between the spiritual and temporal sides of life.  It’s difficult to do, but even when we make a very small effort to be spiritually minded in our daily lives, good things come of it.

Arabs have a very different way of looking at the world than we Westerners do.  We’re much more influenced by Greco-Roman culture, which is very individualistic, while the Arab worldview is much more semitic, which tends to value collectivism over individuality.  While the Gospel is for the entire world, the scriptures are definitely the production of a semitic culture, and sometimes when we apply our Western, Greco-Roman way of thinking about things to them, we miss some crucial points.

While I was in Jordan two years ago, this difference manifested itself in a very interesting way when we had to renew our visas.  At the Jordanian police station, the station chief typically sits back in his chair, drinks his coffee, smokes his cigarette, and delegates all the work to his underlings.

When my American classmates saw this, they got pretty angry–to them, the station chief was loafing around and wasting their time.  But then, one of the officers turned to them and said “look at that man–he is working  so hard!” To the Arab way of thinking, hearing reports and delegating work to the lower level employees was legitimate work–and the station chief was working hard–very hard!

I remembered that tonight as I went through the endowment session.  In some ways, Elohim is just like that police chief–he delegates his work to others, who return, report, and receive a new assignment.  It’s a very semitic way of doing things–and counterintuitive to us Westerners.

Not sure what it means, but just thought I’d throw it out there.  I’ve definitely found that learning about semitic cultures has provided a new and illuminating way of looking at the gospel–and I’m anything but an expert!  I’ll definitely share more insights as they come.

65 And as they begin to grow ye shall clear away the branches which bring forth bitter fruit, according to the strength of the good and the size thereof; and ye shall not clear away the bad thereof all at once, lest the roots thereof should be too strong for the graft, and the graft thereof shall perish, and I lose the trees of my vineyard.

66 For it grieveth me that I should lose the trees of my vineyard; wherefore ye shall clear away the bad according as the good shall grow, that the root and the top may be equal in strength, until the good shall overcome the bad, and the bad be hewn down and cast into the fire, that they cumber not the ground of my vineyard; and thus will I sweep away the bad out of my vineyard.

Jacob 5:65-66 (emphasis added)

To give some background, the entire fifth chapter of Jacob is an allegory representing the house of Israel as an olive tree in a vineyard. It traces the history of the house of Israel from the Babylonian exile to the second coming of the Messiah–an event that has yet to happen.

As the tree representing Israel begins to die (due to the wickedness of the covenant people), the master of the vineyard (God) attempts to save the tree by grafting the branches of wild olive trees into the tame root, and by grafting the tame branches into several wild olive trees in other places of the vineyard. This represents, respectively, the preaching of the gospel to the gentiles and the exile or diaspora of the Jews. The gathering of Israel–an event that began with the restoration of the gospel to Joseph Smith and is presently ongoing–is represented by taking the tame olive branches and returning them to the tame olive tree.

Interestingly, this passage contrasts sharply with the more popular understanding of the Day of Judgment–that Jesus will spontaneously come down from heaven with all His hosts in a giant “didn’t see that coming” kind of event. I remember growing up in mortal fear that Jesus Christ would decide to return to the Earth in glory sometime in the next five minutes, and that I would be lost or killed in all the cataclysmic turmoil surrounding it. I imagine many evangelical Christians feel the same way, though they have a different understanding of the events surrounding Christ’s coming.

In contrast, this prophecy from the Book of Mormon seems to say that Christ’s return will not be spontaneous, but follow a much more natural matter of course. Christ will return, but not before the righteous have struggled to uphold gospel principles in a wicked world, and have succeeded. The wicked will certainly burn in that great and terrible day, but not before the righteous have “overcome” the wicked–not through violence, but through public debate and discussion, the so-called “culture wars,” individual members sharing the gospel with their friends, and all the other interactions we currently see between the Church and the World.

I find this concept fascinating. It completely does away with the idea of a vindictive and arbitrary God, coming down at a random undisclosed time to burn the world and destroy the wicked. It shows that God’s purpose is always to give His children as many chances to repent and accept the gospel as He can, and that He only destroys the wicked when they are beyond all hope of returning to Him. It shows that Jesus’ return will not be an isolated event, disconnected from the rest of history, but that it will be the culmination of a natural process in which we as saints will play a key role.

Above all, we should not be pessimistic or fatalistic about our struggle against evil and conspiring men. According to Jacob, before Christ returns in glory, we will prevail!

The Last Days are not a time for us to cower in fear, but for us to press forward, living and standing for the gospel in our homes, communities, countries, and nations. As the prophets of our day counsel us, we live in the best of times and the worst of times. Let’s do our best, then, to follow the Savior and live the gospel, in quiet, everyday ways just as much as in public, highly visible ways.

It feels so weird to be leaving.

This past week, when I wasn’t taking exams, grading exams/papers, packing, cleaning, shipping / giving away my books, I spent a lot of time reflecting.  Only a year ago, the thought of graduating and entering the “real world” terrified me.  I didn’t want college life to end.  Now, I have the complete opposite view.  Even though I don’t have a clue what I’m going to do after I graduate, I’m more than ready to get out and experience the “real world.”

I’ve also been reflecting a lot on how much I’ve changed in the past four years.  I don’t know how it happened, but I feel like I’m completely different from the person I was when I first came to BYU.  It’s hard to quantify what I mean by that, but I think I’m a lot more mature, a lot more diplomatic and understanding, than I was when I first started college.  If I were to go back in time and hang out with my past self, I’d probably find him so irritating and self-absorbed that I probably wouldn’t enjoy his company very much.  And I used to think I was mature back then!

I’ve been thinking about how God looks at us, with His unlimited perspective.  We must seem so completely immature from where He sees us–so self-centered, so callous and uncaring, so petty and blind.  To God, even the world’s most powerful, influential, and respected people must seem like little children, childishly throwing sand into the other children’s eyes and throwing a temper tantrum when others do the same to them.

If we, as imperfect, mortal beings, were granted God’s omniscience, would it drive us to hate our fellow men?  To see everyone’s imperfections in perfect clarity, and be privy to all their evil thoughts?  How could we possibly love each other when we know such things?  When absolutely nothing is hidden, and we can see just how depraved, perverse, and fallen we all are?

And yet God still loves us.  He loves all of us–enough to suffer and die that we might have a chance to live with Him in glory forever.  Even the pedophiles, the murderers, the tyrants and rapists and terrorists–even the people in our lives who we consider our very worst enemies–He loves them all, despite the fact that He fully knows the depths of their evil.  That is a miracle.

I am convinced that maturity is a function of one’s capacity to love.  The more we love others, the more we listen to and care about them.  The greater our capacity to love, the more willing we are to seek out and understand others, even those with beliefs and values completely different from our own.  The greater our capacity to love, the more likely we are to turn the other cheek and forgive those who hurt us–to reconcile with others and stop the cycle of provocation and violence.

I’m going to be interning with a major think tank in Washington DC, one that has a lot of influence on US foreign policy in the Middle East.  Few parts of the world have seen more conflict, violence, and hatred; few parts of the world have a greater need for reconciliation and forgiveness.  I’m under no illusion concerning my own imperfections, but as I pursue career opportunities in this field, I hope that I can bring a degree of maturity that will allow me to work to build bridges, dispel ignorance, and bring peace to God’s children.

I have no idea what will happen in my internship, or what I will do after I graduate, but I’m confident that as I seek to do God’s will and serve my fellow men, He will continue to pour out His blessings in my life, and everything will fall into place in the best possible way.  That has been my experience in the past, and I have no reason to doubt it now.

I am very impressed with the church’s youtube channel, Mormon Messages. I watched this short video clip recently and was blown away. This is exactly how I feel about Jesus Christ and His gospel. The words shared here express my testimony exactly.

I think that sometimes, in the church, we tend to compartmentalize our religion. Sacrament meeting is one thing, but Sunday school and Priesthood / Relief Society are something else. When we’re working on our food storage or our family history, we aren’t thinking about our scripture study or our prayers, and when we’re worshiping in the Temple, we aren’t thinking about our home teaching or our missionary work (unless we come to the temple with a specific related question).

When we compartmentalize our religion so much, we run the risk of losing sight of the center of it all–the thread that ties everything together. That thread is the gospel of Jesus Christ–the good news that He suffered and died for our sins that He might become our Savior and Redeemer. The church is true only because Jesus is the Christ, and every doctrine or practice, no matter how obscure, relates back to this supremely important point.

It reminds me of an excellent BYU devotional talk given my freshman year. The speaker was Thomas B. Griffith, a US federal judge, and the talk was entitled “The very root of Christian doctrine.” He told how, when he was a bishop, he and his counselors decided that every talk, lesson, and church activity would have to be explicitly and directly related to Jesus Christ. Without departing from the standard curriculum, they accomplished this–and saw a huge spiritual outpouring in their ward and stake. Truly, Christ is at the center of everything we do.

Jesus is the Christ–he is the root of everything in this church. Without him, we can do nothing–literally. He is my Savior and knows me personally. When I look beyond the daily workaday struggles of my life, I am blown away by how much He blesses me. No matter what I do–or what you may do or have already done–His arm is stretched out still (Isaiah 9:12, 17, 21).

God’s promptings work exactly the opposite way that Satan’s temptations work.  Satan seeks to destroy our agency; God seeks to affirm and protect it.  Satan will try to overwhelm us despite our intentions; God waits patiently for us to torn towards Him, then guides us personally.

We yield to Christ in a completely different way [than to Satan].  To yield to Satan, we let ourselves drift away in the sins of the world.  To yield to Christ, we don’t wait to be carried away, but we point our lives to Him and listen to the Spirit.

This makes me think of a principle I learned very early on my mission about the guidance of the Spirit.  The Spirit will not push a body at rest into motion, but will guide a body in motion in the correct direction.  If we wish to be guided by the spirit, we need to exercise the faith to move in a certain direction, and once we are actively pursuing what we feel is right, the Spirit will guide us more precisely to what we need to do.