The Work of Angels

She was alone, perhaps in the midst of some daily activity—getting water from a well, preparing food for a meal, praying by her bedside. It may have been morning or night, inside or out. But certainly, she was alone. And suddenly she was not alone. There was a light. A voice. A glorious being. A strange salutation: “Hail, thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women” (Luke 1:28).

Surprise and wonder must have filled Mary’s mind and heart—and perhaps fear, for who would not have felt fear at this sudden apparition, this brilliantly white person, this unearthly voice. Yet there must have been also an instinctual sense of awe and reverence, a deep, dawning, and indisputable awareness of the holiness of this personage, a growing glimpse in her heart that this man, this presence, carried with him all that is good and godly, gifts and grace from heaven itself.

His name was Gabriel. He was a messenger from God, an angel of light, sent to announce the wondrous news of an infinite and eternal redemption from sin and death. To the virgin before him—perhaps frightened, perhaps humbled, perhaps sensing the holiness of the moment—he declared the startling news that she, Mary, would give birth to a child, but not just a child: “the Son of the Highest,” said Gabriel. “And he shall reign over the house of Jacob forever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end” (Luke 1:32, 33).

In response to this earthshaking revelation, Mary simply asked, “How shall this be?” (Luke 1:34). Gabriel must have rejoiced to find a heart that did not dispute or doubt or debate, but that simply sought clarification. And when the explanation was given, with deep faith, submission, and complete trust in Gabriel’s words, Mary said, “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word” (Luke 1:38).

It was a brief interview. An introduction was made, a message delivered, a question asked, an explanation given, and a sublime declaration of ultimate faith expressed. Yet how momentous that conversation was for Mary, for Gabriel, for the entire world.

The story of Christmas is the story of angels. From Gabriel’s messages to Mary and Zacharias to the angelic instruction to Joseph to the declaration to the shepherds to the heavenly choir that filled Bethlehem’s night with praises to God.

But the angelic work began long before Bethlehem, or even Nazareth. It began at least several thousand years earlier when an angel declared the tidings of redemption to Adam, who had only recently been expelled from the garden (see Moses 5:4-9). It continued on through the centuries as angels delivered messages of salvation to prophet after prophet. In one such visit, Gabriel announced the future coming of the Messiah to the Old Testament prophet Daniel (Daniel 9:21-27). In another, an angel awakened the Book of Mormon prophet and king Benjamin and said, “I am come to declare unto you the glad tidings of great joy. . . . For behold, the time cometh, and is not far distant, that with power, the Lord Omnipotent who reigneth, who was, and is from all eternity to all eternity, shall come down from heaven among the children of men, and shall dwell in a tabernacle of clay” (Mosiah 3:3, 5).

Agony in the Garden by Frans Schwartz,
in Sacred Gifts at the BYU Museum of Art.

The angelic ministry continued after the blessed birth as well. It was an angel who warned Joseph to flee with his young family to Egypt and who later called him back. Years later, after Jesus fasted for 40 days and faced temptations delivered personally by the father of lies himself, Matthew records that “angels came and ministered unto him” (Matt 4:11).

Then, in a garden called Gethsemane, the Babe, now grown, fell to the earth in agony and prayer. The Son of God, He who had power over death itself, He who had lived the only pure life in history, felt the crushing burden of sin. “And,” Luke records, “there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him” (Luke 22:43). To the Savior of the World, the angel of Gethsemane brought solace, support, and strength.

Angels do the work of God. As exemplified in the Christmas story, their work is to testify, as did Gabriel. Their work is also to minister, as did the angel in Gethsemane.

To testify and to minister—this is the work of angels. “Have angels ceased to appear unto the children of men? Or has [God] withheld the power of the Holy Ghost from them? Or will he, so long as time shall last, or the earth shall stand, or there shall be one man upon the face thereof to be saved? Behold I say unto you, Nay” (Moro. 7:36–37).

The work of angels continues today. Ofttimes, that work continues through us. Wouldn’t you have loved to have been one of the angels in the heavenly host? What a privilege it would have been to stand in Gabriel's place and to make the announcement to Mary. And with what humility and love you would have approached the angelic assignment to minister in Gethsemane. We may not have been those angels, but we can be those angels. We can sing praises that will rise to heaven and join with those of the angelic choir. We can testify of the Savior’s divine birth and holy redemption. We can minister and strengthen and love and comfort. We can do the work of angels.

As was said by Him who is the subject of angelic messages and the source of angelic love, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40).

Sunday Afternoon Top 11!

So I narrowed my list for Sunday afternoon to 11 and just couldn't choose one more to cut. So there's a bonus here...

And as an extra bonus, I've included a recent picture of our "stellar spirit"--or one of them, anyway... hard to think of that term not applying to Lizzy as well; she is as stellar as they come.

Elder Quentin L. Cook: Addictions impose on society a burden of such magnitude that it is impossible to quantify.

Elder Quentin L. Cook: How we preserve time for family is one of the most significant issues facing many societies.

Elder Quentin L. Cook: If we allow our culture to reduce the connection from children to mothers and grandmothers, we will come to regret it.

Elder Quentin L. Cook: It will be hard to change society at large, but we should work hard to change the culture immediately around us; our primary efforts should be to protect our own family and the rising generation--the vast majority of whom are not yet in bondage.

Brother David M. McConkie: Teachers, ask yourself: what would the Savior say if He were teaching my class today, and how would He say it?

Elder Terence M. Vinson: God should be the center of our universe, our literal focal point. Is He? Or is He far from the thoughts and intents of our hearts?

Elder Terence M. Vinson: Rather than solve our problems Himself, the Lord wants us to develop the faith that will allow us to rely on Him in resolving our problems; then we can become connected with Him more powerfully.

Elder Russell M. Nelson: Stellar spirits are often housed in imperfect bodies.

Elder Russell M. Nelson: Why the need for self-mastery? God implanted strong appetites in us for nourishment and love. When we master our appetites within the bounds of God's laws, we can enjoy longer life, greater love, and consummate joy.

Elder Russell M. Nelson: Freedom from self-slavery is true liberation.

Elder Russell M. Nelson: God's marriage pattern cannot be disregarded--not if you want true joy.

Sunday Morning's Top 10

My favorites notes and quotes (paraphrased) from the Sunday morning session of October 2013 LDS General Conference.

President Henry B. Eyring: It is only with the companionship of the Holy Ghost that we can hope to be equally yoked in marriage.

President Henry B. Eyring: I gave him to you because I knew you could and would love him.

Elder Dallin H. Oaks: The principle is not whether we have other priorities; the question posed by the second commandment is What is our ultimate priority?

Elder Dallin H. Oaks, quoting President Thomas S. Monson: Let us have the courage to defy the consensus, the courage to stand for principle.

Sister Bonnie L. Oscarson: Conversion comes through living the principles of the gospel and sacrificing for them.

Elder Richard J. Maynes: Dedication, perseverance, self-discipline: the keys to endurance, physically and spiritually.

Elder Richard G. Scott: Repentance is not punishment; it is the hope-filled path to a more glorious future.

Elder Richard G. Scott: As you fill your life with service to Father in Heaven's children, Satan's temptations lose power in your life.

President Thomas S. Monson, quoting "the Poet": "Good timber does not grow with ease; the stronger the wind, the stronger the trees."

President Thomas S. Monson: The gospel of Jesus Christ is the penetrating light that shines through the darkness of our lives.

Priesthood Session Top 10

Here are my 10 favorite paraphrased notes from the priesthood session.

Elder L. Tom Perry: Doctrine is to the Church as a battery is to a cell phone: without it, the Church is useless.

Bishop Gerard Causse: Before you told me your name, I knew what you were called: My brother.

Elder Randy D. Funk: To be a successful missionary, you must be humble, obedient, and in tune with the promptings of the spirit.

Elder Randy D. Funk: Think of the good that comes from broken things: ground is broken to grow wheat, wheat is broken to make bread, bread is broken for the sacrament, of which we partake with broken hearts as we offer our souls to God.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf: We don't become champions without making mistakes. Our destiny is not determined by the number of times we stumble, but by the number of times we rise up.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf: Worldly sorrow leads us to become discouraged and want to give up. Godly sorrow leads to conversion and a change of heart.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf: Rise up. Your destiny is a glorious one.

President Henry B. Eyring: A parable for overloaded priesthood holders: the Good Samaritan--just remember you are the Samaritan, not the priest or the Levite who passed by.

President Henry B. Eyring: Only the Lord can bind up spiritual wounds, but He sends us to rescue His children and bring them to Him.

President Thomas S. Monson: Ours is the great privilege to brighten, to touch, to save those souls entrusted to our care.

Saturday Conference Top 10

I gained so much from the first two sessions of LDS General Conference today. Here are my 10 favorite notes, in chronological order. (Most of these are paraphrased.)

Elder Edward Dube: In the sight of the Lord, it is not so much what we have done that matters, but where we are willing to go.

Elder David A. Bednar: A grateful person is rich in contentment. An ungrateful person is in a poverty of discontent.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf: When the entire truth is made known, things that didn't make sense before will be resolved to our satisfaction.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf: Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith.

Elder D. Todd Christofferson (quoting Elder Neal A. Maxwell): One day what happened in cradles and kitchens may prove to be more influential than what happened in congress.

Elder S. Gifford Nielsen: How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, ... that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth! Exclamation point!

Elder Timothy J. Dyches: Mortality is meant to be difficult. The vicissitudes of life help us fashion an eternal relationship with God and engrave his image in our countenance.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland: Though we may feel we are like a broken vessel, we should remember that our vessel is in the hands of the Master Potter.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland: Live by faith, hold fast to hope, and show compassion one of another.

Elder M. Russell Ballard: The command to share the gospel is a directive we cannot escape.

Faith in the Falls

Yosemite Creek's descent is a dramatic one. The upper falls readily command attention from across the valley, while the lower portions demand would-be admirers to exert some effort—and a bit of faith.

A compact, white spray shoots from the top of a 1,400-foot cliff, spreading as it plummets toward the valley floor, casting ever-changing shadows across the rock face and sending clouds of ghostly mist out over the trees below. This is Yosemite Falls, one of the 10 tallest waterfalls in the world. But for a time, I questioned their very existence—at least in part.

Yosemite Falls actually includes three falls: the upper falls, the middle cascades, and the lower falls. The 1,400-foot upper falls command attention from far across Yosemite Valley and claim a prominent place on postcards and T-shirts in the park bookstore. The dominant visibility of the upper falls contrasts sharply with the obscurity of the lower two-thirds, lurking in the trees and on top of the lower cliffs and ledges. And as my family walked toward the lower falls this spring, I joked with Lizzy that I didn't believe they were really there.

The trail to the lower falls weaves through a thick forest of evergreens—a pleasant, gently sloping, paved path, just the kind of trail we like for hiking with Caroline, pushing her along in her giant special-needs stroller. As the trek stretched on, we gained elevation and passed some of the huge boulders that always lie at the base of Yosemite's famous cliffs, but no falls made an appearance. Even the highly visible upper falls had vanished behind trees and mountainous rock.

Our view of the lower falls came only
after a long hike through the trees.

To be sure, we had come across evidence of the falls: The trail intermittently followed a river that, presumably, came from the falls, and the distant sound of rushing, cascading, splashing water grew as we got deeper into the trees. Occasionally, peering through the green ahead, we would catch a passing glimpse of something white high in the rocks, but tree branches quickly closed upon the view as if trying to capture and hold a secret. Signs pointed the way to the falls, and we passed hikers coming the other way, chattering about what they had seen. But a full, clear, unmistakable view of the falls had yet to present itself to our eyes.

As I teased Lizzy about my faltering faith in the falls, I recognized a metaphor in our experience: Although we are often presented with abundant evidence of God's existence and love, without a direct, clear, unobstructed view, we sometimes begin to doubt. All around us in life—as on the trail—we confront witnesses of God's influence: The perfect, intricate beauty of the natural world; the wonder of life; feelings of hope, faith, and love; scriptures; the testimony of prophets and others who have had personal experience.

Yet even with all these witnesses, we begin to question. We have walked a long way on this trail of life, and we still haven't had a clear view of God. We've been working hard, and the way is getting more difficult. Is all this effort worth it? Is this trail really leading us to God? What if all this so-called evidence has another explanation? Are we wasting our time and energy?

It is tempting, at times, to give up, turn around, and walk away. In the face of ever-deeper doubt and an ever-steeper trail, we are "prone to wander," to leave the path and head off into the trees. But leaving the trail only takes us further from God and from the evidence of his existence. The sound of the water becomes harder to hear, we lose the river off in the trees somewhere, we distance ourselves from people who have seen the falls, we no longer see the trail signs. With diminished witnesses, we feel justified in our decision to leave the path. "See?" we tell ourselves and others. "All those things we once saw and heard that made us believe in the falls must have been imagined or misinterpreted. They were delusions and illusions."

At the end of our hike, we  enjoyed a clear
view of Upper and Lower Yosemite Falls.

But if we persist on the trail, despite doubt, debate, and the difficulty of the way, the evidence grows. We get closer and closer to God and see and feel more and more of his love, until eventually we bask in full view of his glory. As Moroni says, "Ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith" (Ether 12:6). This concept, of course, should not surprise us; it is a cardinal principle of life. We must hike the mountain to enjoy the vista, we must study the textbook to gain the knowledge, we must practice the skill to develop the talent. Should not the greatest knowledge also demand faith and work?

On the trail to Lower Yosemite Falls, we finally rounded a bend and could see, between the thick brown tree trunks ahead, crowds of people, standing and looking off to our right at something hidden by the trees. Great clouds of mist floated from the right, out over the people, and on into the valley. We still could not see the falls, but the sound was now a great thundering roar that filled the forest, and we could sense the joy and the wonder of the people being showered by the mist. Filled with renewed hope and faith, with a clear view of the smiling faces of others who stood in the mist, receiving the glory of the falls, we hurried on to join them.

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Are Mormons Christian?

The life of a Christian should speak for itself—it should reflect a sincere, devoted effort to follow the teachings and example of Jesus Christ. We advocate Christian living in our church, and all principles of our faith radiate from His doctrine.

About Short Answers: I am seeking to provide clear, brief responses (one or two sentences, max) to questions about the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The answers represent my best understanding of the doctrine. For more information about these and other teachings, see the FAQ page on Mormon.org.

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What Is the Role of Jesus Christ?

Jesus Christ's mercy and grace, through his atoning sacrifice, make everything good and joyous possible—in this life and the next.

About Short Answers: I am seeking to provide clear, brief responses (one or two sentences, max) to questions about the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The answers represent my best understanding of the doctrine. For more information about these and other teachings, see the FAQ page on Mormon.org.

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Where Do We Go After Death?

After we die, we go to a waiting room, of sorts, where those who followed God preach the gospel to those who didn't, who then have a chance to choose God and repent or to remain as they are.

About Short Answers: I am seeking to provide clear, brief responses (one or two sentences, max) to questions about the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The answers represent my best understanding of the doctrine. For more information about these and other teachings, see the FAQ page on Mormon.org.

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Why Are We Here on Earth?

Earth is boot camp for Godhood; we are here to learn to be like God.

About Short Answers: I am seeking to provide clear, brief responses (one or two sentences, max) to questions about the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The answers represent my best understanding of the doctrine. For more information about these and other teachings, see the FAQ page on Mormon.org.

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Where Did We Come From?

Before we were born on earth, we lived in a heavenly family with God as our Father and each other as brothers and sisters.

About Short Answers: I am seeking to provide clear, brief responses (one or two sentences, max) to questions about the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The answers represent my best understanding of the doctrine. For more information about these and other teachings, see the FAQ page on Mormon.org.

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Lackeous Foodiferous

Suddenly everything was dark. It was as if I was fainting—only I didn't faint. The colors drained out of the scene and I felt unsure of my balance. I stopped moving to let it pass, but it did not pass.

I stumbled up to my Scoutmaster. "I feel dizzy," I mumbled.

It was the morning of my first Klondike Derby: February 1983. I had joined in the laborious construction of a snow cave the previous night—piling up snow, packing it down, hollowing out the cave one small shovelful at a time—but I wouldn't sleep in it because I felt claustrophobic in the little hole. Instead, I crawled into a tent, but I left my boots out in the snow and the rain. Now it was morning, and I was miserable. Cold. Wet. Wearing borrowed shoes. Standing by the fire.

My Scoutmaster—Ole Smith, a kind, funny man with mustache that always suggested he was up to mischief—offered me a sweet roll, but I munched on a piece of bacon instead.

My vision is what I remember most clearly now, 30 years later. The scene in front of my eyes took on the style of an Andy Warhol print—the colors exaggerated and blown out and posterized. A lot of bright yellow and white. I felt terrible. I was sure I had hypothermia. Later, others told me I had become as pale as the snow.

"I feel like I'm going to die," I moaned to Scoutmaster Smith. "Could you take me home?"

My Scoutmaster led me down the trail to the camp medic's lodge at the bottom of the hill. There, in the warm interior, they laid me on a cot and gave me hot chocolate and food. I slowly started to feel better, and soon the medic very solemnly gave his scientific diagnosis: I had Lackeous Foodiferous.

I think of that experience often during the bitter cold of winter, especially when camping with Scouts. In the dark, long, oh-so-cold evening of a winter camp, our instinct is to retreat into our coats and huddle up by the fire. We go into survival mode and avoid doing anything we don't deem absolutely necessary. We just want to outlast the cold, gloomy night, and we stare into the flames, longing for the rising sun and its promise of warmth. We don't want to move, we don't want to take off our gloves to open a granola bar wrapper, we don't want to eat.

The best way to stay warm is to generate your own heat.

This instinct to hunker down against the cold can be counter-productive. As I learned in that medic's lodge three decades ago, the most important source of heat on a winter camp is neither a fire nor a coat. It is our own metabolism. We speak of a nice warm coat, but the coat itself is not warm, of course; the coat is merely helping to retain the heat our body is producing. But to produce heat, our bodies need fuel.

A related principle is that movement—using energy from all that food you ate—generates heat. Sitting still by the fire means your muscles aren't producing heat and your heart isn't pumping warm blood quickly to your extremities. And when it is cold enough, the warmth from the fire simply cannot compensate for the lack of warmth inside your fingers or feet.

As an adult leader on winter camps with Scouts, I have often thought my most important job is being a cheerleader. I am the pep squad, the conditioning coach, the energizer. I try to get the boys eating, to get them moving. Get away from the fire, do jumping jacks, run around, play a game, drink water, eat food. It may not sound pleasant when you are miserable and cold and huddled by the fire, but it's the surest and quickest way to get warm.

The principle carries over into matters of faith as well. The most potent spiritual fire comes from within. In our figurative winters—during challenges and hard times—it is tempting to retreat from faith-building activity or religious effort. We want to hunker down and stop moving and stop eating and wait for everything to get better. But doing so only makes us get colder.

We can survive—we can thrive—in difficult times. But we must continue to feed our souls with prayer and the word of God. We must keep moving, keep active in our religious endeavors, including service to others. Doing so will feed our fire of faith and fan the flames ever larger, keeping us warm and helping us emerge stronger from the dark, cold night of adversity.

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And Be Ye Thankful

A couple of decades ago, I sat one evening in a large assembly hall listening to a speaker I found somewhat annoying. He was the second or third speaker of the night, and the next speaker on the agenda was the headliner of the event. The previous speakers had been brief, engaging, and inspiring; more than 20 years later I still remember one of those speakers and what he said. But this speaker, coming just before the last one, was droning on and on and on about a subject that didn't really fit the theme of the evening and that I found less than exciting. "Doesn't he know we aren't here to hear him?" I thought. "Doesn't he know we don't care about this topic?"

I squirmed in my hard chair, looked frequently at the clock, and tried to endure the talk that got longer and longer. Feeling increasingly irritated, I looked at the stand and saw the man who would be the main speaker of the evening—the man whose time was being used up by this other speaker. As it turns out, that man was Thomas S. Monson, now the president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I looked at President Monson, smiling and sitting calmly behind the speaker who was continuing his unwelcome diatribe, and I wondered, "How does someone like President Monson—a spiritual leader who needs to exemplify Christian living—listen to a talk like this—so obviously off target and so obviously too long—and retain a charitable attitude? How does he not get irritated and frustrated?" And, perhaps more important, I wondered, How can I learn to be more patient and Christlike in similar situations?

President Thomas S. Monson [PHOTO BY BRIAN TIBBETS]

A few minutes later, and much to my relief, the speaker finally concluded and President Monson rose to give his long-awaited address. As if in answer to my unspoken question, he began his remarks by expressing the deep gratitude he had felt for the previous speaker as he listened to his speech.

I remember sitting there in that vast room and feeling somewhat stunned. First, while I had been building up a year's supply of impatience and complaint and criticism for the previous speaker, President Monson had been reflecting, with gratitude, on the speaker's strengths and contributions; my irritation had made me blind to the good in this speaker. And second, I had thought a question and almost immediately got an answer. The answer, of course, was this: If you are tempted to impatience or irritation or annoyance with an individual, think instead of the gratitude you feel for the person and his or her qualities.

Recently I decided to focus on developing greater patience, and I selected a passage of scripture about patience to memorize as part of my effort. The scripture, found in Paul's letter to the Colossians, presents the need for forbearance and forgiveness and charity and urges us to "let the peace of God rule in [our] hearts"—great advice for one striving to be patient. Then the passage concludes with three words that I don't often think of as being associated with patience: "Be ye thankful" (Col. 3:15).

Maybe Paul didn't intend to link gratitude and patience. But maybe he did. Perhaps Paul knew what President Monson knew and what I should know but so often forget: Gratitude trumps impatience. As the perfect antidote for negativity, gratitude can turn irritation, criticism, anger, resentment, and frustration into forgiveness, patience, meekness, and love.

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The Prisoners Shall Go Free

I once had a conversation with a member of another faith, who was troubled that her church taught that you must be a baptized member of her church in order to be saved. She worried about all the people through the history of the world who never had a chance to be taught her faith and be baptized. Although she believed strongly in her church, this one doctrine seemed so unfair because it condemned millions of people to hell, through no fault of their own.

She wondered what my church—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—taught about this matter. I was grateful to be able to explain to her that although our doctrine is similar (all must be baptized by the true authority of God, which exists only in our Church), we also have a beautiful doctrine about the redemption of the dead.

We believe that after this life there is a waiting period before the resurrection and final judgment. All who have died go into this state of waiting (called the spirit world), where those who know the truth are busily preaching the gospel to those who do not. In this way, all people who have ever lived on the earth—in any place and at any time—will have an opportunity to learn the truth and to either accept or reject it.

Those who accept the truth then require baptism, but as spirits (who have not yet been resurrected and received an immortal, physical body) they cannot participate in a physical ordinance. And this is why we are baptized for the dead (by proxy, in their behalf) in our temples.

Peter referred of this doctrine when he wrote, "For this cause was the gospel preached also to them that are dead, that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit" (1 Peter 4:6).

To me, this is one of the most beautiful and wonderful doctrines of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It is one of the greatest evidences that the Lord is both merciful and just and that the reach of his Atoning grace is, indeed, infinite and eternal.

Joseph Smith reflected the wonder and joy and praise for God I feel regarding this doctrine when he, after discussing baptism for the dead, wrote, "Let your hearts rejoice, and be exceedingly glad. Let the earth break forth into singing. Let the dead speak forth anthems of eternal praise to the King Immanuel, who hath ordained, before the world was, that which would enable us to redeem them out of their prison; for the prisoners shall go free. Let the mountains shout for joy, and all ye valleys cry aloud; and all ye seas and dry lands tell the wonders of your Eternal King!" (D&C 128:22-23)

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A Gift of Grace for Caroline's Birthday

I awoke at 5:15 this morning. Not to my alarm, but to Caroline. She was in her room loudly telling the world that she was awake and ready for the day. These are her happy noises. She opens her mouth wide, she says "aaaa," and she throws her whole heart into it.

Sleepily, I got up and turned on the white noise CD we keep in the bathroom to try to drown out Caroline's early morning noises so the rest of the house can sleep. Then I returned to bed. But Caroline was louder than the CD. So I got up and went to her room to tell her good morning--and happy birthday.

Today Caroline can be as loud as she wants. It is her day, after all, so I guess she can be happy and celebrate in her own way. Even at 5 a.m.

Eight years ago, Caroline came to earth and changed our lives. There have been a lot of hard times in those eight years--hospital trips, doctor visits, late nights, early mornings, middle-of-the-nights, sad times, puzzled times, worried times, crying times, sick times, and endless messy diapers (fondly referred to around here as doozies--or, in code, as messages Caroline leaves for us). But there have also been a lot of wonderful times in those eight years--giggling fits, cute smiles when we come to her after a 3 a.m. waking, cuddling in a chair, smiling and laughing when we sing "We're so Glad When Daddy Comes Home."

Caroline is a wonderfully sweet girl who, in the last few years, especially, is remarkably happy most of the time. She smiles and makes her loud talking noises. She laughs when a strong cold wind blows her hair or a sudden silly noise startles her. She lays on her bed and gleefully hits jingle bells hanging above her head. She smiles at her stuffed dog or her disco light. She delights to hear our voices singing or talking to her. She giggles when we play kung fu with her. She kicks with excitement and smiles wide when we pick her up. She stretches out her arms and sticks out her tongue and looks around with eager anticipation when she hears the sound of the van lift. She really is a beautiful, sweet, fun girl who brings a lot of joy and love to our family.

As her birthday has been approaching, I have thought a bit more than usual about her condition. She is--insofar as we can tell--physically and mentally at about a three-month-old level in her development. She shows few signs of understanding us or mentally processing things she experiences or communicating her needs; it appears that her cognitive abilities are severely limited. So as her eighth birthday has loomed ahead, I have thought about baptism. Caroline will not be baptized. She is not capable of choosing good or bad, of sinning, and is not, therefore, accountable for sin or able to choose repentance and baptism.

In a way, this thought makes me a bit sad. Baptism is such a huge milestone in our church and culture. It is something we talk about with children for years before and something we remember and discuss for the rest of our lives. I understand, of course, that baptism is not necessary for Caroline, but her lack of baptism is a reminder of the many other milestones she has missed--and will miss throughout her life. It is a reminder that as sweet and wonderful as she is, she has a pretty hard existence. And sometimes when I think about her condition, I am sad. I am sad for the conversations we will not have and the things we will not do together in this life. I am sad for the experiences she will not have and the earthly potential she will not reach. I am sad for the joys of this life that she will not experience.

But as I write this, Caroline is laying next to me on her bed, and she is not sad. She is, on the contrary, extremely happy. A big wide smile stretches most of the way across her face, she giggles, she makes her loud happy noises as she looks around the room. I pat her side and she laughs a big hearty laugh. Her eyes squint into a smile, and she talks to me. She says, "Aaaaaaaaaa!" and she tightens up her stomach muscles, lifting her head and shoulders and feet and legs off the bed, as she likes to do (often when we change her diapers, which makes diaper changing difficult).

Caroline does not appear sad about her condition. She seems perfectly happy with her existence. So why should I be sad? And I am not sad. I love Caroline and I rejoice in her sweetness, her smiles, her laughs, and her loud noises at 5 a.m. And as I think of her eighth birthday and the baptism that will not be, there is a twinge of wistful longing for what could have been, but mostly there is gratitude--deep and everlasting gratitude that she is "alive in Christ." Of people like her, Mormon wrote to his son Moroni:

Behold I say unto you that this thing shall ye teach—repentance and baptism unto those who are accountable and capable of committing sin; yea, teach parents that they must repent and be baptized, and humble themselves as their little children, and they shall all be saved with their little children.

And their little children need no repentance, neither baptism. Behold, baptism is unto repentance to the fulfilling the commandments unto the remission of sins....

For behold that all little children are alive in Christ, and also all they that are without the law. For the power of redemption cometh on all them that have no law; wherefore, he that is not condemned, or he that is under no condemnation, cannot repent; and unto such baptism availeth nothing. [Moroni 8:10-11,22]

Caroline is "alive in Christ." Though she will not be baptized, the Savior took care of her. She is saved--clean, pure, and worthy of a heavenly home. The Lord's suffering in Gethsemane and resurrection from the tomb has redeemed Caroline from the fall and granted her a future resurrection--unconditionally. She will live with Him again. Of this I am sure, and this certainty brings me joy and gratitude--and a desire to be worthy to be with her.

This morning I sang "I Believe in Christ" as part of my scripture study. I waved Caroline's arm to direct the music as I sang, and afterward, I held her in my lap and reviewed the words and message of that powerful hymn. A few stanzas, especially, were particularly meaningful to me on Caroline's special day as I pondered these words from her perspective, as if she were singing them. Forgive me if I take some license in reordering these stanzas a bit and leaving out others:

I believe in Christ; he stands supreme!
From him I'll gain my fondest dream;
And while I strive through grief and pain,
His voice is heard: "Ye shall obtain."

I believe in Christ; he ransoms me.
From Satan's grasp he sets me free,
And I shall live with joy and love
In his eternal courts above.

I believe in Christ; so come what may,
With him I'll stand in that great day
When on this earth he comes again
To rule among the sons of men.

I believe in Christ; he is my King!
With all my heart to him I'll sing;
I'll raise my voice in praise and joy,
In grand amens my tongue employ.

I have often, in my life, been deeply grateful and profoundly moved by the mercy of Jesus Christ's Atonement and its impact in my life. Today, as an earthly father entrusted with one of God's choicest children, I am deeply grateful and profoundly moved by the Savior's mercy to Caroline, by the infinite reach of His supreme grace in her behalf.

I do believe in Christ. He is, indeed, my King. And with all my heart I'll sing praises of joy and grand amens to His holy name. And so, someday, will Caroline.

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Look for the Sunlight Through the Clouds

I have been reading lately the book Standing for Something, by President Gordon B. Hinckley. This morning as part of my scripture study, I read a chapter about optimism: "Optimism in the Face of Cynicism." This was a good one for me to read; I find myself easily falling into the trap of being overly critical. Here are several quotes from President Hinckley about the culture of cynicism and the value of optimism:

We live in an intriguing age, a curious age in many respects, an age in which the ability and power to communicate, and therefore to influence and persuade, reign supreme.

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We are constantly fed a steady and sour diet of pessimism, faultfinding, second-guessing, and evil speaking one of another. The pathetic fact is: Negativism sells.

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If we took such pundits seriously, we might think the whole nation and indeed the whole world was going down the drain.

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Criticism is the forerunner of divorce, the cultivator of rebellion, the catalyst that accelerates to failure.

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It will do us no good to be naive about the challenges we face in this country. We do have problems, and they are not few. There are issues that demand our earnest, inspired attention. But there is too much fruitless carping and criticism of America.

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I am asking that we look a liitle deeper for the good, that we still our voices of insult and sarcasm, that we more generously compliment and endorse virtue and effort.

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When I was a young man and was prone to speak critically, my wise father would say: "Cynics do not contribute, skeptics do not create, doubters do not achieve."

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We are creatures of our thinking. We can talk ourselves into defeat, or we can talk ourselves into victory.

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We all tend to worry about the future. And yes, there may be lean days ahead for many of us. There will doubtless be challenges of all varieties. No one can avoid them all. But we must not despair or give up. We must look for the sunlight through the clouds.

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We must not be ensnared by or lean on the words of those clever ones whose self-appointed mission is to demean that which is sacred, to emphasize human weakness rather than inspired strength, and to undermine faith.

We must walk with hope and faith. We must speak affirmatively and cultivate an attitude of confidence.

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With gratitude in our hearts, let us stop dwelling on the problems we have, other than in a spirit of contribution to solutions. Let us rather count our blessings and determine to do all we can to make this world a better place.

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Rather than making cutting remarks one to another, could we not cultivate the art of complimenting, of strengthening, of encouraging?

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To highlight the mistakes of a person and gloss over the greater good is to draw a caricature. Caricatures are amusing, but they are often ugly and dishonest. A man may have a wart on his cheek and still have a face of beauty and strength, but if the wart ins emphasized unduly in relation to his other features, the portrait is lacking in integrity.

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Criticism and pessimism destroy families, undermine institutions of all kinds, defeat nearly everyone, and spread a shroud gloom over entire nations. We must resist partaking of the spirit of our times. We need rather to look for the good all about us. There is so much that is sweet and decent and good upon which to build. Above and beyond the negative, the critical, the cynical, and the doubtful, we can and must learn to look to the positive and the affirmative.

Rivers of Grace

I stumbled this morning across a seldom sung verse of a great hymn. The hymn is "Come, Ye That Love the Lord," written by Isaac Watts in 1707. Here is the fourth verse from our hymnal (originally the fifth verse) followed by a verse not printed in our hymnal (originally the sixth verse). I'm including both verses to provide the context.

This mighty God is ours,
Our Father and our Love.
He will send down his heavenly pow'rs
To carry us above.

There we shall see his face,
And never, never sin;
There, from the rivers of his grace,
Drink endless pleasures in.

It is those last two lines that especially attracted my attention today. When God calls us to him above, we shall "drink endless pleasures" "from the rivers of his grace." I love the idea of his grace being as rivers--not as a river, but as rivers. There is so much grace that it cannot be contained in one river but fills up several channels. And it's not just a periodic flow. I imagine several mighty rivers, deep and wide, carrying infinite volumes of water because the flow never stops.

For some reason I keep picturing Iguacu Falls in South America--a massive waterfall system that thunders over nearly two miles of cliffs and falls some 200 feet (photo courtesy Martin St-Amant - Wikipedia - CC-BY-SA-3.0).



Imagine such a river, with a stunning, beautiful, and neverending display of water power. And then imagine several of them. Such are the "rivers of his grace." That grace never ends. It is infinite in its reach, stunning in its power, and awe-inspiring in its beauty. And through that grace, we are offered "endless pleasures" with God above.

This also reminds me of one of my favorite verses of scripture, which also speaks of the grace offered us with God above:

For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. [Rev. 7:17]

Ruler, Guardian, Guide, and Stay

This morning in my scripture study I sang the hymn "God of Our Fathers, Whose Almighty Hand." As I pondered the words of the hymn, one line in particular stood out to me: "Be thou our Ruler, Guardian, Guide, and Stay." I like that list and I thought a bit about what each descriptor meant:

• Ruler: Governor, king, judge; one who establishes and enforces laws, who makes judgments in behalf of the people
  
• Guardian: Protector; one who guards against enemies and evil
  
• Guide: Leader and mentor; one who shows the way and helps us make decisions
  
• Stay: Support, stabilizer, grounding mechanism; the ropes that keep a mast in place on a ship; one who sustains, strengthens, and helps us stand through wind and storm

That is a great list of the things we should allow God to do for each of us. But it's instructive to remember that this hymn was written for a national celebration--the 1876 U.S. centennial. So while this list has good individual application, it was intended here for national purposes; it is a plea for God to be our nation's ruler, guardian, guide, and stay.

Sadly, as a nation we seem to be turning against having God serve those purposes for us. We are certainly not following his rule; as a people, we do not obey his laws very well, and blatant sin runs rampant in our society. It does not appear that we seek his guidance in our national decisions very well, nor do we "stay" or rely on him for support as we should. We turn to philosophy, reason, and debate in our decisions, which is good, but do we add heavenly guidance to the equation? We still tend to hope God will be our guardian, but without having him to be our ruler, guide, and stay, any request for him to protect us rings a little hollow.

It seems to me that if we wish to enjoy the continued heavenly protection and support we have enjoyed for so long, we need to return God to his place as our ruler and guide. We need to teach and adhere to high moral standards and we need to seek and follow God's guidance more frequently.

Triumphant Jubilation

One spring day, two men walked a dusty road near Jerusalem. As they traveled, they talked about recent events. Just one week earlier had been a glorious day. The Messiah had entered Jerusalem in triumph. A great multitude had greeted him, spreading palm fronds and clothes on the road before him. In that moment the long-promised deliverance of Israel seemed at hand.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of activity. The cleansing of the temple. Wonderful days of teaching—parables and prophecy and confounding the Pharisees. The Passover. Then the unimaginable: betrayal. Arresting officers in the night. A trial before the chief priests. Hearings before Pilate and Herod. And suddenly the throng that had joyfully welcomed the Savior on Sunday had vanished and the crowds before Pilate were not singing Jesus’ praise but chanting for his death. A murderer was released, a sentence decreed. Scourging, the cruel burden of the cross, the road to Calvary, the nails, the mocking of the soldiers, the taunting of the Jews. The vinegar, the spear, the earthquake, the veil of the temple. Death.

How had it happened? How had things turned so quickly from triumph and shouts of hosanna to death and shouts of derision? What had happened to the Deliverer? He was the One who was to give them liberty, but now He was in a tomb. Or at least He had been, but now some women had visited the tomb and found it empty.

As the two men walked, their heads swirled in confusion and wonder.

A stranger joined them. “What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another,” he asked, “as ye walk, and are sad?” (Luke 24:17).

Surprised that he could be unaware of the last week’s events, they recounted the reason for their melancholy bewilderment. In response, the stranger began to teach them from the scriptures, recounting prophecies of Moses and others. “Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into his glory?” he asked (Luke 24:26).

Soon they approached their destination. The stranger would not be stopping but would travel further. But the two invited him to stay with them, pointing out that the day was spent. He consented and joined them for their evening meal, and “he took bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them. And their eyes were opened, and they knew him” (Luke 24:30-31).

It was Him! They had been walking and talking with the risen Lord. He who was dead was alive again! Suddenly things fit. Confusion was gone. Despair was replaced with exultant jubilation. “Did not our heart burn within us,” they said to each other, “while he talked with us by the way?” (Luke 24:32).

The darkness of Friday, when the Savior hung upon the cross, was banished by the brilliant light of Sunday. The triumph returned. He was the Messiah. He had, indeed, come to deliver Israel—not from Roman bonds but from a servitude much more fearsome, the slavery of sin and death. And in one tumultuous, confusing week, while disciples watched the apparent unraveling of their fondest hopes, the Holy One of Israel carried out a plan of deliverance they could not see.

But now they saw, and illuminating joy filled their troubled souls. He who was dead was alive again. He was, indeed, triumphant. And because of Him, so are we.

The Poetry of Redemption

We had a sweet experience tonight at family home evening. It was my turn for the lesson, and I decided to share what I had read in my gospel study this morning. So I taught about God's plan of redemption—about how the fall of Adam brought sin and death into the world; about how sin and death are obstacles to our returning to God's presence; about how Jesus Christ voluntarily gave his life and was resurrected so we could overcome death; about how He then suffered for our sins and offered us a way to conquer sin through repentance, faith, and baptism; about how, without the Savior, none of us would have any hope of salvation.

I concluded the lesson by sharing my feelings about the Savior's Atonement, and as I finished Lizzy gave me a big hug and then crossed the room to hug Christine and Caroline. It was such a sweet and spontaneous expression of love--at a time that did not rationally offer any prompting for it. We don't usually give hugs at the end of family home evening, and we hadn't been expressing love for each other.

But as I expressed my gratitude and love for Jesus Christ, my faith in his redemptive power, and my hope of salvation (both for me individually and for us as a family), the Spirit of the Lord touched Lizzy, filling her with its fruits--premier among them being love (see Galatians 5:22). After our closing prayer I asked Lizzy why she had given us hugs, and she said she had felt the Holy Ghost. I'm so grateful she recognizes that feeling already.

As our closing song, we sang a hymn that, to me, is among the most poetic descriptions of God's wonderful plan of redemption. Here are the words we sang (verses 1, 2, and 6 of "How Great the Wisdom and the Love," by Eliza R. Snow):

1. How great the wisdom and the love
That filled the courts on high
And sent the Savior from above
To suffer, bleed, and die!

2. His precious blood he freely spilt;
His life he freely gave,
A sinless sacrifice for guilt,
A dying world to save.

6. How great, how glorious, how complete
Redemption’s grand design,
Where justice, love, and mercy meet
In harmony divine!

During the lesson I referred repeatedly to a chapter of scripture that is reminiscent of this hymn—beautiful in its language and powerful in its meaning (I have bolded the particular phrases that make me think of this hymn; there's an interesting repetition of language here I hadn't noticed before):

6 For as death hath passed upon all men, to fulfil the merciful plan of the great Creator, there must needs be a power of resurrection, and the resurrection must needs come unto man by reason of the fall; and the fall came by reason of transgression; and because man became fallen they were cut off from the presence of the Lord.

7 Wherefore, it must needs be an infinite atonement—save it should be an infinite atonement this corruption could not put on incorruption. Wherefore, the first judgment which came upon man must needs have remained to an endless duration. And if so, this flesh must have laid down to rot and to crumble to its mother earth, to rise no more.

8 O the wisdom of God, his mercy and grace! For behold, if the flesh should rise no more our spirits must become subject to that angel who fell from before the presence of the Eternal God, and became the devil, to rise no more.

9 And our spirits must have become like unto him, and we become devils, angels to a devil, to be shut out from the presence of our God, and to remain with the father of lies, in misery, like unto himself. . . .

10 O how great the goodness of our God, who prepareth a way for our escape from the grasp of this awful monster; yea, that monster, death and hell, which I call the death of the body, and also the death of the spirit. . . .

13 O how great the plan of our God! For on the other hand, the paradise of God must deliver up the spirits of the righteous, and the grave deliver up the body of the righteous; and the spirit and the body is restored to itself again, and all men become incorruptible, and immortal, and they are living souls. . . .

15 And it shall come to pass that when all men shall have passed from this first death unto life, insomuch as they have become immortal, they must appear before the judgment-seat of the Holy One of Israel; and then cometh the judgment, and then must they be judged according to the holy judgment of God. . . .

17 O the greatness and the justice of our God! For he executeth all his words, and they have gone forth out of his mouth, and his law must be fulfilled.

18 But, behold, the righteous, the saints of the Holy One of Israel, they who have believed in the Holy One of Israel, they who have endured the crosses of the world, and despised the shame of it, they shall inherit the kingdom of God, which was prepared for them from the foundation of the world, and their joy shall be full forever.

19 O the greatness of the mercy of our God, the Holy One of Israel! For he delivereth his saints from that awful monster the devil, and death, and hell, and that lake of fire and brimstone, which is endless torment.

20 O how great the holiness of our God! For he knoweth all things, and there is not anything save he knows it.

21 And he cometh into the world that he may save all men if they will hearken unto his voice; for behold, he suffereth the pains of all men, yea, the pains of every living creature, both men, women, and children, who belong to the family of Adam.

22 And he suffereth this that the resurrection might pass upon all men, that all might stand before him at the great and judgment day.

23 And he commandeth all men that they must repent, and be baptized in his name, having perfect faith in the Holy One of Israel, or they cannot be saved in the kingdom of God. [2 Ne. 9: 6-23]

I love those verses; they so well encapsulate my feelings regarding the plan of redemption. With Jacob (the prophet who wrote these words), I wish to declare, "O how great the mercy of our God, the Holy One of Israel!" With Eliza R. Snow, I wish to sing in praise and gratitude, "How great, how glorious, how complete redemption's grand design." With my family, I am grateful to be able to rejoice in the joy of redemption.