Remembering Him

In his talk “This do in Remembrance of Me” Elder Jeffrey R. Holland discusses the sacred significance of the sacrament and the importance it should have to us. He speaks of it as the commemoration of the passover, when the blood of the lamb protected the ancient Israelites from the destroying angel. “How sacred and how holy is it? Do we see it as our passover, remembrance of our safety and deliverance and redemption? If remembering is the principal task before us, what might come to our memory when those plain and precious emblems are offered to us?”

The sacrament is the time to reflect and to remember—to remember Christ, his ministry, his miracles, and his atonement. This can be hard because for all of us, we have no primary memories of these experiences on which to draw. None of us were there when angels proclaimed to shepherds Christ’s birth. None of us where there when healed the leppers. None of us were there when he calmed the sea. And none of us were there when he suffered in the garden or on the cross. How then, do we remember what we never saw happen?

May I suggest that is the perfect time to remember instead the times that we felt the joy of the Gospel and redemption, that we remember the times that we were healed from illness or from spiritual and emotional pains, when Christ calmed the tumultuous seas that raged in our lives, and when we have felt of his forgiveness and grace that come because of his sufferings for us. It is wonderful to reflect on what we know of Christ from the Old and New Testaments, but when it comes to remembering, it is, in my opinion, even more impactful to remember our own experiences with him. As we think on these experiences, “we could—and should—remember the wonderful things that have come to us in our lives and that “all things which are good cometh of Christ” (Moro. 7:24). 

Additionally, we are told in 1 Corinthians 11:28 that we are to examine ourselves. Often I am inclined to dwell on my misgivings, short comings, and sins. But a full examination would look also at my progress. It would look at how I have improved since the previous week, and then at what I could do the coming week to continue in my efforts to come unto Christ and be perfected in him. 

As we think on the coming week, it’s appropriate to think of those close to us and how to serve them as well. “We could remember that Christ called his disciples friends, and that friends are those who stand by us in times of loneliness or potential despair. We could remember a friend we need to contact or, better yet, a friend we need to make. In doing so we could remember that God often provides his blessings through the compassionate and timely response of another. For someone nearby we may be the means of heaven’s answer to a very urgent prayer.”

In the very least, we can be the answer to one urgent request given by the Savior so many years ago to his three disciples on that night of deep anguish and grief, “Could ye not watch with me one hour?” (Matt. 26:40). I think he asks that again of us, every Sabbath day when the emblems of his life are broken and blessed and passed. “Could you not think of me, just in this moment?” When I picture the savior suffering in the garden, or when I picture him administering the broken bread to his disciples, or when I picture him inviting people to come and feel the marks in his hands and see him, I imagine and long for the moment that he would spend just with me. That moment that he would look into my eyes and know me. But even that moment can happen only if I, too, spend a moment with him, look deeply at my life for traces of him, and know him too. 

Love Everyone

I still remember in perfect clarity a moment from almost 6 years ago. I was sitting in a counselor’s office and we had been talking about love and relationships when she asked me, “Do you love me?” I thought for a moment. I didn’t really like her. But I did love her. “Yes,” I responded, “I love everyone.” The counselor seemed a little taken aback, and then she challenged it as though such a claim weren’t possible. And it left me wondering, “Do I—could I—really love EVERYONE?”

The answer is an emphatic yes. Yes, I can. But I can see where my counselor was coming from. Loving, in our difficult and convoluted world, isn’t always easy. Said Elder Robert D. Hales, “Our Savior’s command to love one another as He loves us is probably our greatest challenge.” But that Christ-like love is also our “greatest need.”

In 2 Timothy 2:3 we are told that “in the last days, perilous times shall come.” These are the last days. And they are certainly perilous. These are the days when Satan is his putting forth his final, urgent fight. We are told, too, that in these last days men will be found “without natural affection” and that “the love of men shall wax cold.” In Matthew we read that it is because iniquity shall abound that love will wax cold. While this may be true, I believe the greater lesson is in its inverse: because love will wax cold, iniquity will abound.

In his talk “Christian Courage: The Price of Discipleship” Elder Hales emphatically stated, “[God’s] love . . . is the only power that can subdue the adversary.” It is by simple, courageous acts of love that we make Satan quake and tremble as we bring heaven closer. As President Nelson stated in a recent address, “Our doctrine is not complicated, convoluted, or complex. It is so simple—love God and love your neighbor.” Love EVERYONE.

STAY

In a painting titled “Lost and Found” by Greg Olson, the savior is depicted sitting on a bench with his arm stretched out towards a teenage boy, listening intently and lovingly. Beside the bench, the boy’s bundle of belongings—a heavy load—give the impression that he does not have the intention to stay.

The painting is the theme for a short film on the church about suicide titled “Sitting on a Bench.” The video portrays the hardships of suicide and the hope and healing that can come through Christ for both those considering it and those who have witnessed or been impacted by it.

It may be tempting to feel that we are alone. But recently as I read the account of Christ’s temptations in the New Testament I found that the same message portrayed by Greg Olson’s beautiful painting might also be portrayed in a very different scene—this one taking place a very long time ago, with the same figure, but here having traded places with the boy on the bench. In this portrayal, Christ is standing atop the pinnacle of the temple in Jerusalem when the devil comes tempting him. “If thou be the son of God, cast thyself down . . .”

In the words of Elder Holland, “The temptation here is . . . subtle. It is a temptation of the spirit, of a private hunger more real than the need for bread. Would God save him? Would he? [Jesus] knows that among the children of men only suffering, denunciation, betrayal, and rejection lie ahead. But what about heaven? Why not get spiritual confirmation, a loyal congregation, and an answer to this imp who heckles— . . . Right now. The easy way. Off the temple spire.”

We recognize the differences between Christ’s temptation and a suicidal thought or inclination, but the similarities are what struck me. You and I know that a lot of suffering, betrayal, and hardship lie ahead. Perhaps they also lie in the present—a present you would love to escape. A future you would love to avoid. Jump from this bridge, take these pills. See if God cares—if anyone cares. See if someone helps you—saves you. Then they will flock around you to comfort you and reassure you that you are wanted here and that you are loved. Or perhaps there is no such desire to stay, even if it is to receive such comfort and affirmation, but only the longing for a better place, one with God or with loved ones who have passed on before.

In our own way, we are all hoping for the reassurance of heaven or an escape from the hardships of this life. We are all longing for love and acceptance, in whatever form that may take for us.

Christ would gain followers, he would receive reassurance. People will show that they love you. You will receive comfort and relief. But this is not the way.

The good news is that for you and me there is a way. A better way. And it has everything to do with the man at the top of that temple spire. He is the way. Because of Him, “there is a remedy for life’s most difficult and painful periods. There is the gospel of Jesus Christ and the Atonement. There is peace and safety and a future.”

Recently a friend walked me through a very impactful experience in which I was told to imagine those who I know love me and then, approaching one, attempt to explain to them everything about who I am—everything I love, everything I fear, everything I struggle with. The task was frustrating. Then I was told I could use any method, real or fictional. But the task quickly became just as frustrating as it had been before. This person could not understand.

In that moment, something clicked, and in my mind, the person before me vanished and it was Christ who stood in front of me—it was him that I had to explain to. Except that, to my relief, the burden of explanation was gone. He opened his arms and invited me into them. I didn’t feel like I was worthy of that—that I belonged there. But, I realized, once you are there it is impossible to feel that kind of love and not want to stay.

In the past year suicide awareness has focused its campaigns on one word: STAY. If you can think of nothing else to stay for—think of someone to stay with. Stay with Him. He is not just up there in some cloud—he is here now, in every moment with his arms outstretched inviting us to feel his love, his peace, his comfort. And though his arms may not feel real now, his peace can.

“Satan, who is the father of all lies, can cause people to believe that they are worthless and have no purpose.” When such thoughts come, remember the response of Christ, “Get thee hence Satan,” and the similar response of Moses when tempted, “Who are thou, [satan]? For behold, I am a son of God.” When things get hard, remember who you are, and who God is. He will not leave us comfortless. If we invite Him in, He is there in every moment. So stay with Him.

When You Feel Nothing

“And now, my beloved brethren, after ye have gotten into this strait and narrow path, I would ask if all is done? Behold I say unto you, Nay; for ye have not come thus far save it were by the word of Christ, with unshaken faith in him …” --2 Nephi 31:19

This scripture reminds me of the words of Elder Bednar in his talk “Seek Learning by Faith.” Elder Bednar highlights the three aspects of faith: (1) faith as the assurance of things hoped for, (2) faith as the evidence of things not seen that are true, and (3) faith as the principle of action. In this sense, faith has three components, one that looks to the past, one that looks to the future, and one that exists in the present.

It is the past component that perhaps interested me most. We receive evidence of things not seen as we consider the evidence from our own lives—our own past experiences. As we see how God has helped us in the past or how we received promised blessings from obeying a certain principle, our trust in God and testimony of that principle increase. In that sense, I saw the scripture in 2 Nephi 31 as an invitation to look back at my life and ponder how it is that the Word of Christ helped me to get to where I am. Most recently, the Book of Mormon reinforced to me the importance of attending church. And it was not because of some incredible, overwhelming spiritual experience or confirmation of its truth, simply that, upon finishing it, I felt a gentle urge to continue—to press forward, and had the hope and assurance that such a path would bring me both the peace and joy I could not find otherwise. I feel like often when faced with a question of how the Word of God has made a difference I am inclined to look at moments when I received an undeniable testimony of its truth and to say that were it not for those moments I might not be a member of his church, and from there speculate on the differences between this hypothetically terrible life, and my life now. But the big differences come in small, daily doses. “By small and simple means are great things brought to pass.” Sometimes, it is not even the Spirit that makes the difference. I would read the Book of Mormon again even if I never felt a confirmation of truth or of peace, simply because I know that God has commanded that I read it and has promised to bless me as I do so, and so as I pick it up each morning or evening I testify to myself that I will obey. It is a different kind of assurance. One not of the Spirit, but of my own heart and mind, committing, no matter what, to stay on the path. Even when I don't feel anything right away or answers don't come immediately, I will commit, because faith is acting before or without the confirmation. Because it is not His Word that makes us unshaken, but what we choose to do with it.

God Loves to Talk

Some time last week--or maybe it was two weeks ago, I really don't remember--I was at my friend Charlie's house and she could tell there was something I needed to talk about. The problem was, I wasn't really sure what. Or how.

But then, I think she knew that.

She knew that it would take a while for me to figure it out, and then even longer after that to get it out. She knew that it would begin with a long, prolonged silence. A silence that was augmented by the addition of her own.

At the beginning of it, she had told me that she wouldn't say anything until I had said everything.
And so for the next couple hours she didn't say a word.

When I was done I realized she had already known a great deal of what I had told her, and saying it had taken so long and been so hard. Why did I need to say it?

I told her I felt that way sometimes when I pray as well. God already knows how my day was. The scriptures tell me that He knows the thoughts and intents of my heart. So why is there such importance placed on the vocalization and communication of these thoughts?

I am quite familiar with the promise repeated multiple times in the scriptures, "Ask and ye shall receive."
"But sometimes," I told my friend, "I'm just not sure what to ask."

Charlie's answer was simple. She explained that while I was talking she had wanted so badly to comment--to give her input and suggestions. "God," she said, "wants to comment, too."

Perhaps that is the chief reason that throughout the ages men of God have expounded on the importance of giving God time to speak to us, of waiting in silence after our prayers.

It reminded me of something I had noticed in my scripture study that week. I had been highlighting with a yellow colored pencil every time a reference to God or Christ appeared in the scriptures. As I had flipped back through all my mostly-yellow pages I noticed that at least half of the references were engrained in the phrases "Thus saith the Lord," "the Lord God hath spoken it," and "the Lord hath said" and an interesting thought hit me, "God must love to talk."

It was almost funny to me to picture God as that toddler that just keeps talking because they love the sound of the words and how they communicate and they want to tell you all about the game they made up with their friend, and how their milk tasted weird after eating their oranges, and how they woke up in the middle of the night because Bubba, their stuffed teddy bear, had fallen off the bed.

The difference perhaps between God and this toddler is that God doesn't just love to talk TO us. He loves to talk WITH us. He loves to hear what we have to say. And He loves to comment.

If we will just speak, and then listen.