Reverence does not equal quiet (and other cool stuff I heard last weekend)!

I was not raised in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, so when I find myself baffled by the culture of this religion (and yes, I'm often baffled, especially here in Utah), I simply remind myself, "Yeah....I'm a convert. So that makes zero sense to me."

One piece of church culture that I've never understood is the idea that you have to be quiet in order to be reverent or to feel God's spirit. The most reverent times in my life are usually anything but quiet. When my four kids who live here in the Valley are all home at the same time with their friends and families, it is loud and raucous, often chaotic and boisterous. 

And also perfect! 

When I witness the four of them together, inside jokes and hilarious memories, such close friends with such different personalities, I'm in awe of the love and grace they extend to each other. It is, for me, the epitome of reverence. Tears are welling in my eyes even now, as I write about it. I feel so blessed that all four of them still wanna hang with me, even though they no longer have to. I am the luckiest! And the reverence I feel for my Heavenly Parents, who trusted me with these precious souls, is most notable when they are all together, in spite of the noise level. 

So last weekend, in the Saturday morning session of General Conference, when Elder Patrick Kearon taught that "We are members of the Church of Joy," and that joy should be most obvious when we "gather to worship the source of all joy," I might have jumped right out of my bed, clad in my most comfiest "pajama church" clothes, and shouted, "PREACH, brother!" Then he went on to explain (and demonstrate!) that, while the culture of  "folding our arms tightly around our chests, bowing our heads, closing our eyes, and holding still---indefinitely!" might be helpful when teaching children, as we mature, we discover that "reverence is so much more." 

Well by this point in the talk I had two epiphanies. First, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for this new apostle, whose feelings resonate so perfectly with my own. Perhaps it's because he joined the church as a young adult, just like I did? And second, this is why callings in Primary have never been a great fit for me. I refuse to insist that children, after sitting for a full hour in a silent, not-so-joyous sacrament meeting, be forced to do the same thing for yet another hour. Or to tell them that if they don't, they're not being reverent. Their very presence is reverent. They are so new from Heaven that they radiate God's grace simply by being! So no, I won't ask them to fold their arms, bow their heads, or be still. 

In the spirit of Dissoi Logoi, I should acknowledge that there is clear doctrine to describe how in some cases, quiet is needed in order to hear the Spirit, 1 Kings 19:11-13, for example. And yes, I honor those experiences from scripture and from people today, who testify that in the quietest of times, they hear God's whisperings. But there are other times when the Spirit is compared to a "rushing mighty wind" (Acts 2:2). However we experience God's spirit is incredible, and there are as many ways, times, and places to experience it as there are people. If we seek God, God will respond in the perfect way for our unique needs. And however that happens, it will be reverent. 

I also really enjoyed Elder Karl D. Hirst's talk. He spoke on one my most cherished topics: being God's favorite! I expressed my own feelings about being God's favorite in my post to this blog back in April, called "Dissoi Logoi: A "Truthier Truth," so it was pretty cool to hear someone echo my feelings in General Conference. Comparing God's love to circles on a Venn diagram, Elder Hirst taught that "God's love is where we all overlap. Whichever parts of us seem different, His love is where we find togetherness.

Wow! Does that send shivers up your spines, too? Whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever your circumstances, you are God's favorite! You are loved with a power and purity stronger and greater than you can even imagine. I think this concept is sometimes challenging to grasp because it seems too good to be true. Most often when things seem too good to be true, it's because they aren't true. But the love of our Heavenly Parents and our Savior is the exception. Indeed, that kind of love, that radical grace seems way too good to be true. And yet.....it is true! 

And you don't even have to be quiet to feel it.

Musings on Psalms 23

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still

waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s

sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil:

for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies: thou anointest

my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell

in the house of the Lord forever.

Psalms 23 is one of the most well-known chapters in the Old Testament and

arguably the most well-loved of all the Psalms of David. For good reason. It

speaks comfort, hope, and joy directly to our souls, as it reveals the very

character of Christ. Let’s look at it together.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

In Biblical times, a shepherd, oftentimes even a child, was tasked with tending

the sheep, which were valuable resources for the family. So important were these

sheep, that the shepherd would stay with them day and night to make sure they

were properly fed, watered, and protected from harm. The image of the Savior as

a shepherd is lovely, indeed! He is our caretaker, our helper, our protector, and

the One to provide never-ending spiritual nourishment.

Because of Him, we may rest, knowing that our spiritual needs can and will be

met. Of course, that doesn’t mean for a second that we won’t ever struggle.

When the Lord told us in 2 Nephi 2:11 “For it must needs be, that there is an

opposition in all things,” he clearly wasn’t kidding! We will experience

illness, both physical and mental. We will face job stress, unemployment, and

financial challenges. We will lose those we love too soon, and it’s always too

soon. But whatever mortality throws at us, because of Him, we may feel comfort

and grace. Revelation 20:13 tells us that “He is the alpha and the omega, the

beginning and the end,” and that right there promises us a brightness of hope.

Remember how President Hinckley always used to say, “It will all work out in the

end. And if it hasn’t worked out yet, that’s because it’s not the end yet.”

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:

The image of lying down in lush, green pastures reminds me of my hometown of

Portland, Oregon, where I would go for long walks in the beautiful rain that falls

so frequently, and creates miles and miles of lush green. The color green often

symbolizes life, and Jesus tells us in John 14:6 that He is “the way, the truth, and

the life.” As we imagine ourselves lying in lush green pastures, we are reminded

that through our covenants, we have life in Him.

He leadeth me beside the still waters.

Mortality is tumultuous, but Jesus, sometimes literally but always metaphorically,

leads us beside still waters. The song lyricist says it best: “When there’s no

peace on earth, there is peace in Christ.”

He restoreth my soul

The word “restore” means to bring back something to its original state, and that’s

exactly what Jesus does for us. Our original state is beloved daughters and sons

of God. And while that never actually ceases to be true, sometimes we can be

distracted along this mortal journey. We can forget our roots. We can forget our

worth! In the turmoil that is often our circumstances, Jesus reminds us of who we

are, what our divine potential is, and just how fully we are loved.

....and this next line demonstrates one very practical way He does that:

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his

name’s sake.

When we are baptized, we covenant to take upon us His name. Here David tells

us that for the sake of that name, His holy name, we respond in righteousness in

covenant living. But we don’t have to find those righteous paths all on our own.

The Lord promises in this verse that when we turn to Him, he will lead us in those

righteous paths.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will

fear no evil: for “thou” art with me; “thy” rod and “thy” staff they comfort

me.

The “shadow of death” image, whether literal or figurative, is foreboding. But the

reassuring words of the psalmist promise that we have no need to fear, for two

important reasons:

1. “For thou art with me.” Jesus promises to be with us, and He does not

break promises!

2. “thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”

The second reason we don’t have to fear the valleys of life is that we are

constantly comforted by God’s rod and staff. For me this is such fabulous

imagery, especially because sometimes we think of a rod as an instrument of

violence, something with which to inflict pain.The Proverb “Spare the rod, spoil

the child” interpreted to represent pain. But no. The Savior’s rod and staff are

sources of comfort, instruments of loving mentoring and guidance.

...which of course leads me to think of the Iron Rod in Lehi’s dream. This Iron

Rod, is also not a place of pain or punishment; it represents God’s Holy Word,

and (You guys!) this is kingdom language, the very doctrine of salvation. John 1:1

teaches “In the beginning was the Word, and the word was with God, and the

Word was God.” Holding fast to that iron rod means holding fast to the Savior.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

Imagine a time when you felt like you were not enough. Maybe you weren’t one

of the popular kids? Maybe you didn’t quite fit in. I’m pretty sure we’ve all felt this

way at various times. It could be in our personal lives and relationships, our

professional lives (that imposter syndrome we sometimes feel in our jobs), our

social lives, or even in our church lives. Maybe we don’t fit the mold others

expect. Maybe we look different? Maybe our politics are different from everyone

else. Maybe our history, our lifestyle, our values, our culture are different. Maybe

we feel left out, judged, or like we don’t have a seat at the table. But step back for

a second, and reflect on that line from the Psalm. “Thou preparest a table for

me...” Jesus not only welcomes us, but He prepares the table for us!

What would your table look like? Maybe your table is an elegant setting with fine

linens, sterling silver, and prime rib and lobster. (That’s mine, by the way.) Or

maybe your table is a blanket spread out on a sandy beach by the ocean, a

picnic basket with bagels and cream cheese. Or maybe your table is in a

farmhouse, with a checkered tablecloth with biscuits and gravy. Regardless. YOU

are welcome at the table in the presence of anyone who would tell you you

aren’t, because the Lord prepares it especially for you. And HE is the only one

who matters. And note: It’s a continuous process. It doesn’t say “He prepared a

table...(past tense). Or He “will prepare a table,” you know, after you’ve done

everything right and checked all the boxes, and are worthy enough or whatever.

He continuously prepares that table for you, over and over, every day, all the

time.

I can’t help but turn briefly to 2 Nephi 26:33 - “....and he inviteth all to come unto

him and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black

and white, bond and free, male and female; and he remembereth the heathen;

and all are alike unto God...”

Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

I love this line because it presents so many awesome possible interpretations.

● First, I think of the temple and the sacred initiatory ordinance that includes

anointing, and the many blessings that are promised.

● But then my thoughts also turn to the Parable of the Ten Virgins that Jesus

tells in Matthew 25. Here, again, he tries to explain the Kingdom of Heaven

to...you know...humans. Which I imagine is no easy task. In my experience

when this parable is taught, it’s often in a lesson about preparedness or the

need to be self-reliant. And those are both solid truths, good lessons, and

positive interpretations of the text. We should prepare for the future, for the

unknown, for whatever life might bring. But I wonder if, for just a moment,

we might think about these ten virgins in a slightly different, less

black-and-white way. The Psalmist teaches “....my cup runneth over.” The

God we worship is not a god of scarcity. Our God is a God of abundance!

John 4:14 says “But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give

him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be, in

him, a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”

So as the story goes, the five “foolish” virgins trim their lamps and prepare

for the wedding just like the other five, but soon realize they forgot to bring

extra oil as they await the bridegroom, and they ask the other five “wise”

virgins to share. But the wise ones say no, because then they might not

have enough for themselves.... and we begin to feel this sort of “scarcity

thinking,” which is not in harmony with the God we know, the one who

provides living water, the one who feeds 5,000 people with just a few loaves

of bread and a couple fish, the one whose cup runneth over! So the wise

ones suggest that to the other five that they go running off to town,

searching high and low to buy more oil, (pause) and they do! They put their

trust in these other humans and run off to buy more oil, and they miss the

whole wedding feast.

Is it possible that these five “foolish” virgins weren’t foolish because they

forgot to bring extra oil to the wedding, or gather their year’s supply of food

or have giant savings accounts, but rather because they did not know the

Source to which they may look...” 2 Nephi explains this in one of my favorite

scriptures:: “We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we

prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children

may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.” Back to the

parable, when we go down just a couple verses, don’t you just love the JST

clarification on this one? When the five “wandering” virgins out searching to buy

more oil, return and ask to have the locked door reopened, in the original text, the

bridegroom says, “Verily, I say unto you, I know you not,” but Joseph Smith

Matthew totally crushes it with the translation, “Verily, I say unto you, Ye knew not

me.”

Because...when we truly know Him, we know of His abundance. Instead of

striving to be self-reliant, we become God-reliant. We aren’t scared that our lamps

will run out.(pause) Because His holy light shineth forth in the darkness always,

our cups runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life

I can’t help but think of my favorite line from Elder Kearon’s talk in General

Conference last April: With his very cool accent that I can’t replicate, he declared,

“God is in relentless pursuit of you!” Even on those days when we’re wandering

a bit. Maybe we’re out looking for oil somewhere else. Maybe our hands slipped

from the comfort of the rod for just a second. Or maybe...even... longer. He does

not just hang out and wait for us to return to Him. His goodness and mercy shall

follow us, all the days: the faithful days, and the not-so-faithful ones. The

obedient days, and the not-so-obedient ones. I often think of this when I’m out

walking, which I do every day, multiple times. The creator of the universe, the

maker of every thing that is or ever was, the redeemer of all humankind, is

following me! And not just following, but he’s following in “relentless pursuit.” That

is very good news, indeed, especially for people like me, who are sometimes a

little hard to catch.

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

So this final line is part of the reason (along with the “shadow of death” imagery)

that Psalms 23 is often recited at funeral services. And yes, for sure this lovely

promise of eternal life in God’s house is beautiful! But I prefer to focus on the

here and now. Dwelling in the Lord’s house is something we have access to right

now. Each of us may strive to make our own homes places of refuge, places of

rest, of peace, of safety, places of Jesus. As members of the Church, whether

endowed or not, we have access to the temple, the place set apart to be His holy

house. We may walk the sacred ground on which the temple stands. When we’re

old enough, we may go inside to participate in the ordinance of proxy baptism,

and eventually the other ordinances of grace and salvation.

We have access to Jesus right now. This very moment. Lean into Him. Lean into

the One who has the power to heal us from within, the One who does His best

work in the messiness of our lives. Lean into the One who longs to wrap you up

in His outstretched arms and hold you tight and say, ”I got you, girl! I got you,

dude! Imma cover you in my blood and in my grace.” Lean into the One whose

character is the very definition of love! My sisters and brothers, lean into that God, in His holy name, Amen

I hope they clap!

My friend Lindsey's daughter Emma is serving a Spanish-speaking mission in Minnesota. I'm on her email list, so I get to hear all about her amazing experiences as she serves the people with her whole heart and tells anyone who wants to know about the Savior and His redeeming love and transforming grace.

This morning, as I was prepping this week's "Come Follow Me" lesson, I jotted a note to Emma, as I try to do every couple of weeks. I've sent three missionaries, and I know how much they appreciate hearing from friends. That said, I've been told by my own returned missionaries that the letters I write to Emma are TOO long! "Mom, she doesn't have time to read all that!" Okay, I'll try to write shorter emails. It's just that when I get started talking about Jesus and how he's the coolest person ever, I get a bit carried away.

Anyway, I was writing to Emma about this week's Sunday School lesson, which includes one of my favorite chapters in the Book of Mormon: Mosiah 18. Here, Alma gathers folks and teaches them privately. He has escaped from the wicked King Noah and repented of his sins, but he sorta has a bounty on his head, so he flees to a place called Mormon, which is known to be surrounded by wild beasts. Here he can teach in secret, I'm  guessing because most people don't want to go to a place with wild beasts!

By the waters of Mormon, Alma teaches the best sermon about the baptismal covenant I've ever read--what it actually means to be a covenant person, to do the very work of Jesus. And every single item on Alma's list is outward reaching. It's about relationship, and how as covenant people, we're called to a holier way, to bear one another's burdens, comfort those who need comfort, mourn with those who mourn, and stand as a witness of God to others (Mosiah 18:8-9).

And then comes my very favorite verse in the whole chapter: Verse 11: "And now when the people had heard these words, they clapped their hands for joy, and exclaimed: This is the desire of our hearts.

Wow!! These guys were so excited and so anxious to make this covenant and to follow Jesus that they literally clapped their hands for joy!

I find myself asking, "Why don't we clap in church?" Keep in mind, I'm a convert to the LDS religion; I didn't grow up there. So when I hear a beautiful hymn sung by someone with the loveliest voice, and both the words and the music reach down to my innermost soul, it's my natural response to want to clap for joy. And gratitude.

Alas, I refrain. 

Our church culture (though not doctrine) discourages clapping in sacrament meeting. I've heard it explained that this policy helps us maintain reverence in our meetings. But I wonder, does it really? I guess that depends on how you define reverence. For some, reverence equals quiet, and clapping is not quiet. This is logical; it's just not my own experience. I could clap my hands in joy and gratitude and still be perfectly reverent. But that's just me.

I've also heard that we can't hear God's voice or feel the Spirit unless it's totally quiet. Clearly, there are references that imply this, including in 1 Kings 19:12, where the Spirit is described as a "still small voice." However, my favorite references to the Spirit are not still or small, and definitely not quiet, for example in Acts 2 on the Day of Pentecost, when the Spirit pours out as "a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting." We live in Bluffdale, where it is almost always windy. Sometimes when I'm out walking, the wind is so strong and so loud that it nearly knocks me over! I love to think that in those times, the Spirit is making God's presence known to me.

God is made manifest to humans in countless ways, because Jesus meets us exactly where we are. Sometimes policies and culture can blur with doctrine; it's easy to confuse which is which. It's like when I hear the sweet moms whisper to their children "Fold your arms," when a prayer is coming. For them, this is a way to show reverence. Arm folding for prayer is part of the culture of our church, and there is nothing wrong with it, but it's not doctrine. I never fold my arms to pray, yet I know God hears and loves my prayers as much as anyone's. I also don't have to be silent in order to hear God or experience the Spirit in worship.

So, Hermana Mecham, "Go ye into all the world [especially Minnesota!], and preach the gospel to every creature" (Mark 16:15). Share with everyone the goodness of God; bear pure testimony of the healing power of the Savior, Jesus Christ. Invite all to partake of baptism, that they might enter into a covenant relationship with Him, inheriting all our Heavenly Parents have.

And when they recognize just how beloved they are, and desire with all their hearts to take the first step on the covenant journey, yes....

I hope they clap!

...but right now, it hurts a little.

 

Your friends say to keep in touch,

But you know you won't.

Your teachers say come back and see them,

But you know you won't. 

Maybe one day it won't matter,

But right now, it hurt a little.

In 2019, about a year after Seth left for his mission, I decided that one way to focus my attention outward in service to others, rather than inward, missing Seth and grieving the empty nest, was to serve in the temple. Before I had a chance to act on this, a message was read in sacrament meeting explaining that they needed additional workers in the Jordan River Temple (our temple district up in Sandy). 

"Well perfect timing," I thought. I arranged for the needed interviews, and in just a few weeks, was set apart as an ordinance worker at Jordan River. Our shift coordinator began every preparation meeting by greeting us with "Welcome to the best day of the week!" 

She was absolutely right. 

I served every Friday afternoon for a year and a half, until March of 2020, when the world (and the temple) shut down in response to a life-threatening global pandemic. Dare I say all of us experienced some degree of trauma as we lived through what would become the single, most defining event of our lifetimes. Yet with all its horror, despair, grief, sadness, and loss, COVID invited us to rise higher in our humanity. Our response as a people was nothing short of heroic, and indeed, a bit of "good" shed slivers of light in the profound darkness. 

One sliver for me was the opportunity to serve in the Jordan River Temple through the phases of its reopening, post-pandemic. It was pure joy of to welcome small groups of family members, accompanying loved ones as they received their own temple ordinances. It was so quiet in the giant Jordan River Temple during that time. The Spirit radiated the Savior's grace as we all experienced God's healing power made manifest. 

About the time we made it to Phase 4, the temple fully reopened and functional, my family moved to Bluffdale. Temple workers are required to serve in their assigned temple district, and Bluffdale was part of the Oquirrh Mountain Temple district. 

I did not want to go. I did not want to change temples.

At all.

I'm sure there are lots of people who love change and embrace it wholeheartedly. I am not one of those people. I was so happy serving in the Jordan River Temple. I knew people there, I knew how the temple functioned, and I was trained on all the posts. Friday was, indeed, the best day of the week! It was so sad for me to leave.

When they insisted I move, the bishop of our ward expedited the process for me, and I only missed one week between serving at Jordan River and serving at my "new" temple, Oquirrh Mountain. It didn't take long for me to settle in there and feel perfectly at home. There were differences, yes. I missed the size and busyness of Jordan River. Oquirrh is tiny in comparison, and there is much more "down time" for workers. I missed serving as the chapel assistant, welcoming the company to the sessions and instructing them how and when to move to the endowment room. (Only brothers do this at Oquirrh Mountain.)

But I also had new opportunities that I hadn't had at Jordan River, including serving in the baptistry and on the sealing floor, and this past year as Endowment Coordinator. I grew to love that little temple; it became my own. And the lovely people who work there became my "Saturday afternoon friends." 

About a year ago, I sat in our preparation meeting one such Saturday afternoon, next to my friend Tess. As our temple matron began her remarks, she informed us that she would be sharing the final decisions regarding the reorganization of temple districts when the new Taylorsville and Tooele Temples open. Tess lives practically across the street from the Oquirrh Mountain Temple; there wasn't a doubt she and Corby would stay there. She turned to me and whispered, "Do you think you could be transferred?" I had no idea.

Sister Sahm read the names of the stakes that would eventually move to the Taylorsville and Tooele temples. Then she said, "....and the following stakes will be transferred to the Jordan River Temple: Bluffdale and Bluffdale South."

Stunned, I spoke quietly to Tess: "I'm leaving. I'm going back to Jordan River."

It felt surreal. Like one of those "full-circle" moments. Fortunately, I had a full year to process this information and prepare for the change. Last Saturday, April 20th was my last day serving as an ordinance worker in the Oquirrh Mountain Temple. I had spent the previous couple of weeks training a new Endowment Coordinator, so this final day I got to work a normal line assignment, taking me to numerous posts all around the temple, saying goodbye to the many people I would no longer see. And of course I wasn't the only one saying goodbye; there were many quiet, heartfelt glances; sad eyes; and gentle hugs. I was especially grateful for one last opportunity that day to serve in the baptistry; that is the post I'll miss the most. 

Those of us moving to Jordan River have the month of May off. We aren't allowed to begin serving at Jordan until the Taylorsville Temple is dedicated June 2nd. My first day at Jordan River will be Friday, June 7th. And yes, I'm excited! I'm stoked to be returning to my original temple, where I was trained, where I first administered the ordinances. I look forward to reuniting with a handful of people I remember and who are still serving on the Friday afternoon shift.

But the flip side has left me with a few tears welling behind my eyes. Farewell, my "Saturday afternoon friends!"

Maybe one day it won't matter,

But right now, it hurt a little.

Dissoi logoi: A "truthier" truth

It was over halfway through the Sunday morning session of General Conference nine days ago. I sat in my bed (pajama church for the win!) tears streaming down my face. I had just listened to a message from Elder Patrick Kearon, the newly called and sustained apostle for our church. All weekend I had waited for his talk, but no, I had no idea the intensely emotional effect it would have on me.

As he said, Amen, I whispered quietly through my tears, "I think I have a new favorite apostle."

But no, Elder Uchtdorf, don't you worry! This blog is still named after your October 2013 General Conference talk, "Come, Join with Us." You are still my favorite. Although it takes a bit of an elastic approach to the literal meaning of "favorite," I often say that I'm God's favorite. I truly feel like I am. (Even though I know, of course, that everyone else is too.) That's just the nature of our Heavenly Parents and our Savior; we are all their favorite.

It's like when people ask me which of my five children is my favorite. I usually say, "Whichever one I'm with at the time!" And in the rare event that they are all five with me at the same time, or in the wonderfully frequent event that four of the five are, then they are all my favorite! Though I am still miles away from living the kind of life our Heavenly Parents live, I feel like this is the one way I come closest, and I'll take it! Elder Uchtdorf didn't get replaced as my favorite apostle; he just got a new friend with whom to share the role.

It was Elder Kearon's first opportunity to speak as an apostle to the entire worldwide church, along with anyone else who might be listening. And what did he choose to talk about? Jesus! The radical grace and transformative love that Jesus extends willingly to everyone, every single person ever born, without exception. No barriers. No barricades. No desire to keep anyone out. "No one has built a roadblock and stationed someone there to turn you around and send you away. In fact, it is the exact opposite. God is in relentless pursuit of you."

Huh. Relentless. Well that is good news, indeed, considering sometimes I can be pretty hard to catch. I think it's easy for us to misinterpret certain parts of scripture and come to believe that we must do a bunch of stuff in order to qualify for God's mercy. But if we had to do stuff in order to qualify for mercy, then it wouldn't be mercy! The very essence of mercy is that it's given freely and with no strings attached. Now in case anyone reading this is shouting, "What about James 2:17! 'Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead...,'" let me clarify. 

The difference between trying to earn grace and living in response to grace, though subtle, is very real. It involves purpose and tone, why we do the things we do and in what spirit. Do we walk the covenant journey, turning back to God when we wander, because we love our Heavenly Parents and our Savior and desire to live in harmony with Them? Or do we do it to display our righteousness and lift ourselves higher, which often leads to judgment?

Elder Kearon taught us that "God wants for us a radical reorientation of our selfish and prideful impulses, the eviction of the natural man, for us to 'go, and sin no more.'” This desire is completely inclusive. As he spoke these words, I couldn't help but think of Nephi's teaching that "there are save two churches only; the one is the church of the Lamb of God, and the other is the church of the devil” (1 Nephi 14:10). To me, that means that everyone, whether they know it or not, whether they understand it or not, is part of the church of the Lamb. Elder Boyd K. Packer taught way back in 2004 that "...everyone, no matter where they live or what they believe or what they do—has within them the imperishable Light of Christ."

Everyone. Christians and those of other faith traditions, believers and atheists, those who have never heard of Jesus and those who strive with heart and soul to follow Him. "Everyone" is a universal symbol of inclusion. If Nephi and Elder Packer are correct, then only the tiniest, most infinitesimal number of folks who truly worship evil and seek to perpetuate it make up the church of the devil; everyone else is part of the church of the Lamb of God, guided by that "imperishable Light of Christ."

When we understand and acknowledge that everyone we meet is part of Christ's church, we're less likely to cling to tired and exclusive language like, "I know this is the only true church on the face of the earth," which inaccurately, yet often convincingly, implies that ours is the only church with any truth at all. Instead, we seek for common ground, mutual appreciation, and a desire to learn and progress together with those of other faith traditions as well those with no faith tradition at all. To use a fave LDS phrase, "With real intent," we seek to learn from others around us, regardless of their background, lifestyle, religion, political affiliation, culture, race, gender, or sexual orientation. We recognize that their truth might add to and strengthen our own. 

In doing so, we engage in a process the Greeks called "Dissoi logoi." I teach this to my Intermediate Writing and Rhetoric students as they prepare to write their final essay, one traditionally referred to as the "Argument Essay." In their past educational experiences, most were taught that their goal for this "argument" genre is to make a statement of opinion backed up by claims with evidence to support them, then acknowledge counter-arguments, with the sole purpose of shutting them down! As we lean into Dissoi logoi, we seek instead to find common ground with those who hold opposing viewpoints, double arguments so to speak, as we ask ourselves "What elements of truth can I find within these opposing viewpoints that would bring all of us to a "truthier" truth?"

How cool is that!? 

And how can we apply it to our intentional, ongoing study of the gospel of Jesus Christ?

So what were my takeaways from last weekend's General Conference? There were many, many, but I will share a few as I conclude:

• The covenant journey is worth the struggle of every step, because the Savior of the whole world wants to walk that covenant journey alongside me. I'm His favorite.  
• I have a new favorite apostle. His is name is Elder Kearon, and he preaches Jesus, Jesus, and more Jesus, with the coolest British accent, and he's also hilarious ("Behind every new Apostle stands an astonished mother-in-law.")
• Elder Uchtdorf is still my favorite too.
• The guy who spoke following Elder Kearon had the most challenging position of the weekend, and he totally crushed it. As Elder Kearon concluded his remarks, Gerald said something like "I wouldn't want to have to follow him." I'd be lying if I said I agree with that statement, because speaking in General Conference would be like a fairy tale dream come true for me, regardless of the speaking order, but I did understand Gerald's sentiment. 
• Oh, and the guy's name, the one who spoke after Elder Kearon, is Elder Brian K. Taylor, and his tender teaching on how, even in times of intense adversity, we may be "swallowed up in the joy of Christ" was freakin' on point! No downplay of the tragedies and pain mortality brings. No "Everything happens for a reason" babble. Just the testimony that the right answer and the only answer to life's tragedies is Jesus.

It is always, always Jesus.

You don't have to be Nephi.

Don't get me wrong. I like Nephi. I really do. He exhibits tremendous faith and unparalleled perseverance in the most dire circumstances. The thing is, I keep waiting for him to be human, to make a mistake, to doubt his faith, to do anything that isn't absolutely perfect. 

As a result, I find myself relating far better to Laman and Lemuel than I do Nephi. I can connect with them; they seem real. Cuz I make mistakes all the time. I doubt my faith. I lack the emotional strength to make hard decisions. I doubt some more. I am quick to take offense and slow to forgive. I am self-absorbed and insensitive to others' needs. I am judgmental. I gossip. The list goes on. Does Nephi share any of these struggles? We don't know.

Now to cut Nephi some slack, keep in mind that he is the one writing the story. I suppose if we were writing our own stories, we'd present ourselves in the most positive light. It makes sense. And if his purpose is to bear testimony of the divinity of Jesus Christ and God's eternal plan for our happiness, he does a fabulous job! As I've prepped for "Come Follow Me" lessons in 1st and 2nd Nephi these past few weeks, I've been renewed with spiritual strength as I've pondered the love of the Savior and the lengths he'll go to in order to be exactly that. Nephi preaches Jesus eloquently, and I have feasted upon his words these last couple of months!

But fortunately, I don't have to be Nephi in order to receive Jesus' love or to be transformed by his grace as it pours freely over me and my life. And neither do you. You can be Thomas, the doubter. You can be Peter, the denier. You can be Paul, the persecutor. You can be Alma the Younger, the wicked doer. You can be the Woman at the Well, Laman and Lemuel, even David, the murderer and adulterer! Not that you should be, of course. Absolutely don't do those things! But the point is, God uses imperfect people to do great work, and Jesus loves us and saves us no matter what. Jesus doesn't love us because we're good; Jesus loves us because he is good. And he's already paid the price for our salvation. He reaches out with arms wide open and says, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28).

I fear sometimes we forget this. Or we're misguided by an incomplete or inaccurate reading of specific scripture referencers taken out of context. For example, the second part of 2 Nephi 25:23: "...for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do." This could lead us to feel like we have to work hard to earn our salvation, or (worse!) that Jesus will only help us after we've expended every last fraction of our time, effort, and energy trying to solve our problems ourselves. Nothing could be further from the truth. I mean seriously, what did Paul ever do before Jesus jumped in to rescue him on the Road to Damascus? Or the woman caught in adultery? Or the thief on the cross? Or countless others? Jesus wants to enter our stories in the middle of the messiness, in the utter chaos that is our lives, in the midst of doubt, fear, bad choices, and confusion. I think that's where He does His best work! 

So what about that scripture in Nephi? Some tell me that the word "after" actually means "in spite of." "...for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, [in spite of] all we can do." I like that a little better. The phrase "in spite of" suggests that we can never do enough, and that is certainly true. Humans could spend 100+ years striving to do all they can, failing miserably, and forever stressing over whether they've done enough, while the answer is right in front of them: knowing the "source to which they may look for a remission of their sins" (2 Nephi 27:26). 

A second way to look at 2 Nephi: 25:23 (and my favorite!) is to consider it in the context of its surrounding narrative. I just stopped writing this post and counted the number of times Nephi counsels his audience (us!) about what they need to do in order to inherit the Kingdom. He exhorts his readers to "believe in Christ" or "believe on His name" 10 times, just in the handful of verses surrounding verse 23. It seems pretty clear that "all we can do" is believe in Christ. He is the eternal enabler and the only One capable of healing the broken, redeeming the lost, and empowering the willing.

And that kinda leads to a final thought regarding the well-known verse in James 2: "...faith without works is dead." Indeed, we cannot earn grace. God's grace is fully undeserved and, in fact, already ours! What we are called to do is to live in response to grace. I witness this all the time, don't you? It's manifested in the goodness of fallen, imperfect people, in our church, in other churches, and in no church at all. John 1:9 teaches that Jesus "was the true light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world." When a child comes running full speed to pet my dog and delights in the joy of animals, I see it. When a young man takes his great-grandma's arm and helps her into her home, I see it. When citizens attend their precinct caucus meetings and actively participate in the process to shape government, I see it. When a sleep-deprived mother gets up for the 14th time in the night to comfort her infant, I see it. All these and countless others are examples of imperfect people responding to the light within them.

So back to Nephi. Dude, I look forward to meeting you one day. I want you to tell me the stories of your life, including your struggles, your mistakes and what they taught you. I wanna know you're human. And I want to thank you with all my heart for writing the record of your experiences and your steadfast testimony of the God I know: the God who saves, the God who weeps, the God who rescues, the God who enters our stories wherever we are, the God who offers radical grace, and the God who loves with might greater than we can possibly comprehend.