Buckle in for Safety

When I was in Primary, we had a lesson on how the Holy Ghost is our constant companion, and that we should always have Him with is. Well apparently the lesson got through to me because it marked the beginning of my habit to buckle in the Holy Ghost whenever I was in the car.

Seat belt laws were kind of a new thing at the time. My mom had put up a sign in our gold station wagon (the “golden limo”) that pictured E.T. reminding us to buckle up for safety. Well, if E.T. was telling me I needed to be safe, then the same rule applied to the Holy Ghost. After all, we didn’t need the third member of the Godhead getting into a fatal automobile accident, did we? And so I would first buckle my own seatbelt, and then the one next to me where He was sitting.

Sometime in college I mentioned this strange phase to my mom, and her response was that she had wondered what I was doing. Apparently I did enough odd things that this particular routine didn’t merit any questioning. Although, I’m pretty sure I didn’t really believe the Holy Ghost needed a seatbelt. It was a kind of make believe, and I think the Holy Ghost operated similar to an invisible friend for a short while. He was supposed to be my constant companion, always with me, and so I devised this strange little plan to keep him safe.

I did eventually drop the habit (after all, a college roommate will really make fun of you for a thing like that), but I have to wonder whether or not I’ve maintained the same sense of awareness that I had then.

The prophet Joseph Smith wrote, “The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion, and thy scepter an unchanging scepter of righteousness and truth” (D&C 121:46). Short of turning Him into an invisible friend, I have to ask myself if I am ever aware of His presence. More accurately, am I ever aware of my environment and whether or not that environment acts as the “safety belt” that will keep Him with me. From the shows I watch, to the books I read, or the conversations I have, and even the thoughts I entertain – do these things create an environment where the Holy Ghost can be my constant companion?

D&C 84:46 states, “And the Spirit giveth light to every man that cometh into the world; and the Spirit enlighteneth every man through the world, that hearkeneth to the voice of the Spirit.” So the best way to always have the Spirit with us is to listen for and follow the promptings we receive. And if we are to receive this divine direction, then we ought to make sure our thoughts and actions are those that keep Him “buckled in” where we want Him. The best part is that while we’re trying, the Spirit will actually help us to do even better than we could on our own. That’s the kind of companion I want to keep around.

The Prodigal Son

I was thinking about the parable of the prodigal son today. I had a different perspective on that story in high school. You see, I saw myself as the good kid. I got good grades, went to church, didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night. Not that I was perfect, but darned close in my estimation. So when we studied the parable of the prodigal son in seminary, I have to admit I sided with the good kid who stuck around. The wayward son takes off, blows all his money, and comes back in dire straits; and I, along with the more obedient son, couldn’t help but wonder why dad was killing the fatted calf. The good son asks his father, “Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment: and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends,” and I’m thinking, “Yeah! What gives?!”

It reminded me of a time when report cards came home. Mom was happy with my brother’s “B” and “C” grades; I was all “A’s” with the exception of one class and Mom asked me what was going on with that “B.” WHAT?! Over time, the story taught me to appreciate the higher standard set for me in academia. Maybe not the best parallel, but it was what I learned at the teenage time.

But time and maturity (I hope) have taught me that I’m not the good kid in that story, at least not from every angle. Not even from most angles. I’m the prodigal. We all are in a way. The story is about repentance and what speaks to me is the father’s love and immediate willingness to accept the prodigal back into his home – symbolic of how eager our Father in Heaven is to have us back and how our return is worthy of killing the fatted calf. It merits a big party with the whole house in attendance.

I picture the father running towards the prodigal when he sees him and think our Father must do that too. When we make that first move toward repentance, or the initial thrust towards new conviction to change, He must see us “yet a great way off,” and come running. We’re not even to the door yet and he comes out to put his arms around us and take us the rest of the way in.

Storm Clouds and Enlightenment

A few years ago I was traveling down a long, straight stretch of highway. Off to the east was a small but ominous storm. The clouds were dark and I could see the heavy rain coming down. I thought to myself that there was no way anyone caught in that storm could see far enough to know that sunshine surrounded that isolated patch of darkness. I then thought about how life can be this way as well. So often when we’re in the midst of a storm, the clouds and rain block our view of the sunshine that surrounds us.

It was kind of a cool metaphor, but nothing extraordinary really. I don’t know that I’m going to win any prize for that amazing analogy, and yet that quick thought has stuck with me for years.

Joseph Fielding Smith Jr. said, “When a man has the manifestation from the Holy Ghost, it leaves an indelible impression on his soul, one that is not easily erased. It is Spirit speaking to spirit, and it comes with convincing force” (Answers to Gospel Questions, comp. Joseph Fielding Smith Jr., 5 vols. [1957–66], 2:151).

I may have understood something more about “life’s storms” that day, but I also learned a little something about how the Spirit of the Lord speaks to me. It was just a passing thought, but it was accompanied by a spiritual witness that both magnified and intensified the idea. A simple metaphor left an indelible impression on my soul and the lesson learned has stayed with me.

"Which Stregtheneth Me"

This one is for all the word geeks out there. I make my disclaimer now that this doesn’t work in every language. But when I discovered an ambiguity in the English version, it spoke to me. So don’t call the bad-interpretation-of-sacred-writ police – it’s just a little thought that passed through my head. You can take it or leave it.

I love Phillipians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Here’s why. It has to do with the words “which” and “strengtheneth.” In English, this verse can have two meanings. Both “which” and “strengtheneth” can refer to two either “Christ” or “all things.” So, we can restructure the sentence to read “Through Christ which strengtheneth me, I can do all things,” or “Through Christ, I can do all things which strengtheneth me.” Again, this doesn’t work in all languages, but for me the English translation stresses an important point. It is Christ who gives us the strength to do all things. And it’s the things that strengthen us for which we receive help from Christ. So Through Christ, who strengthens me, I can do all things that will strengthen me.

Maybe I’m talking in circles here. But I like it anyways.

Healed by Degrees

In Mark 8:22-26, Jesus performs a miracle different than any other recorded in the scriptures. He heals a blind man in stages, and it is the only recorded instance in which a miracle is performed by degrees. The first time the Savior touches the blind man, he is able to see “men as trees, walking” (v. 24). In other words, he was able to see figures of people that lacked detail. The Savior touches the blind man’s eyes again and “he was restored, and saw every man clearly” (v. 25).

In regards to this miracle, Bruce R. McConkie said, “It may be that the Lord followed this course to strengthen the weak but growing faith of the blind man. It would appear that the successive instances of physical contact with Jesus had the effect of adding hope, assurance, and faith to the sightless one” (Doctrinal New Testament Commentary, 1:379-80).

I like this story. I think that sometimes when I’m looking for a miracle, I also expect an immediate solution. But it doesn’t always work this way. In fact, it often doesn’t work this way. If I pray for patience, or hope, or kindness, etc., I typically don’t get the whole load I need for my entire lifetime all at once. Things tend to come more slowly than that, and with a lot more effort. Like the blind man, the Lord also blesses me in stages in order to help me grow my faith.

Elder McConkie continues, “[M]en should seek the Lord’s healing grace with all their strength and faith, though such is sufficient for a partial cure only, following the receipt of which, however, they may then gain the added assurance and faith to be made whole and well every whit.” The beginnings of a miracle are meant to increase my faith, thereby making my faith sufficient for what I haven’t yet received. So as I ask for a miracle, I need to approach it with the attitude of “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief” (Mark 9:24). Then when I recognize the beginnings of a miracle, my faith will grow and I can gain enough faith to “be made whole and well every whit.”

A Sure Foundation

As a primary kid, I was always a bit confused by the song “The Wise Man and the Foolish Man.” I didn’t understand why it was so wise to build a house on a rock. Lacking any background in construction and/or real estate (and maybe lacking a little common sense as well), I pictured in my teeny head a house teetering precariously on top of a large boulder. Obviously when the rains came down and the floods came up, the house on that rock wouldn’t stand a chance! The sand, on the other hand, would be flat and smooth. To me, that made way more sense.

On a side note, am I the only kid who was totally lost on the symbolism of primary songs? For many years I thought “Give Said the Little Stream” was a song about watering the lawn.

At any rate, I’m glad to inform you that I now have at least a rudimentary understanding of cement slab foundations and can now see clearly why that would be better for the house-building in question.

I also understand why the sand is a bad idea. Sure, you can smooth it out all flat, but sand is shifty. It is easily blown around by wind or washed away by water and quickly gives to even the slightest weight or pressure. Building a house on the sand is like committing ourselves to the doctrine of the world. Our foundation would be easily influenced by the winds and waves of our social environment. And our foundation would hold no resistance against the various pressures of life. No wonder building on sand is a foolish choice.

So then it really must be a wise man who builds his house on a solid foundation that won’t be unsettled by the doctrine of the world.

“And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall” (Helaman 5:12).

Well Versed in Gospel Truths

At the completion of my graduate work, I had to take a comprehensive exam in order to graduate. I majored in English Literature and had to study nearly 50 texts over the course of one semester to prepare. These included some novels, poems, and theoretical works. I spent a lot of time in a study group trying to understand the texts and how they related to each other.

For a few days before the exam, I was pretty distracted. My mind was so wrapped up in the literature I’d been studying that everything in the world around me seemed to relate to it. If someone said “blue,” I immediately thought of what the color blue symbolizes in Emily Dickenson’s poetry.

At the time I remember thinking about how cool it would be to know the scriptures that well – to have everything that happens in the world around me remind me of something I studied in the gospel. I got myself a little reminder of this in our last General Conference. Ann Dibb said “In today’s world, there are a multitude of activities, subjects, and interests vying for every minute of our attention. With so many distractions, do we have the strength, discipline, and commitment to remain focused on what matters most? Are we as well versed in gospel truths as we are in our studies, careers, hobbies, sports, or our texts and tweets?” (I Know It. I Live It. I Love It., emphasis added)

Honestly, I no longer remember what the color blue symbolizes in Dickenson’s poetry. Probably because that knowledge doesn’t play a role in my daily life. But gospel truths do, so there’s a benefit to constantly looking for the relation between our lives and the scriptures (and other gospel teachings). That way when we have a trial we can think, “oh yeah, that happened to David” and get a little help from his experience. Or when we have a question about a gospel principle we can think, “Elder So-and-So said something about that in conference” and then reread that talk for a little more clarification. 

Learning those fifty texts was a big project. Learning the scriptures that well (or better, I should say) is a big project too. But I think it’s meant to be a life-long pursuit. Plus, we have help: “But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you” (John 14:26, emphasis added). As we pursue our gospel studies, the Holy Ghost will help us remember the things we need at the moments we need them.