His Precious Blood

His precious blood He freely spilt
His life He freely gave
LDS Hymns, 195

For some reason, as I was singing that on Sunday, the thought occurred to me that He gave up His life because He counted it as naught, nothing, worthless. But that was quickly replaced by the thought that Christ knew exactly what He was. Who He was. I posted once about what Christ was willing to pay for us. But, what did Christ think of Himself? In the Doctrine and Covenants, he refers to Himself as "God, the greatest of all" (D&C 19:18). Now, we all know that. But the fact that Christ knows it about Himself just hit me like a ton of bricks. He knew what He could do, He knew what He could accomplish, and He went out and He did it. It wasn't pride, it was humility in its purest form. He knew exactly who He was, and He wasn't ashamed of it. He didn't hide it. He didn't shy away from it. He embraced it, gave everything He had to it, and came off conqueror. What if Christ had doubted? What if He had learned who He was, and gone, "Nah, that's too unbelievable." Yet, that's what we do all the time. We sing "I Am a Child of God" from the time we can speak, and how about the classic, "Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam"? At some point, we decide that's just not true, Jesus doesn't want us, and we couldn't possibly be children of God. We don't go around saying it in words, but our actions scream it. Every time we put ourselves down or say we couldn't possibly achieve something, we are saying that it's just not who we are. But what if it's exactly who we are? That's not to say that we all have to go out and be rocket scientists or pop stars. Maybe it's just that you want to learn how to crochet, but you never do because you don't think you can. Or maybe you don't think you could scrapbook as well as your neighbor. Do it anyways. Whatever your goal is, just do it. And that's my two cents on the subject.

Truth Will Out

Lots of people over my lifetime have tried to convince me that my beliefs are wrong. Which, I guess is only fair, because there are thousands of missionaries all over the world trying to do the same thing. Some people told me that it doesn't really matter what church you belong to, as long as you believe in Jesus Christ. Some people argued that their church was correct, and mine was wrong. Again, only fair, in the grand scheme of things. I have tried to think of it from their perspective. Someone knocks on your door, and tells you that their church is the right one, and yours is wrong, and we'd like you to join ours. Then they proceed to tell you that a fourteen year old boy went into the woods, God Himself, and Jesus Christ appeared to him, told him that none of the churches on the earth were correct, and not to join any of them. As if that didn't sound crazy enough, a few years later, he was praying again when an angel named Moroni appeared to Joseph and told him that a book, written on gold plates, was hidden under a rock near his home, and he was to go get them, and translate them. It sounds like something out of a fantasy novel. It sounds nuts. So, let's play the What If Game for a moment. Let's say for a moment, that it's not true. Joseph Smith never saw God, the Book of Mormon is the result of an overactive imagination and greedy mind, and millions of people all over the world have been brainwashed. It wouldn't be the first time. But, let's say it is true. Joseph Smith saw what he saw, translated a history, and restored the true Church of Jesus Christ to the earth. I have had so many people ask me questions like, "If it's really true, what about this?" The "this" can be almost anything. But, unfortunately, that's backwards. The way we learn isn't by knowing everything at once, otherwise my brain would have exploded in about week two of being a chemistry major. I learned first that molecules exist, then what they do, then what we can do with them. The first thing to do is to figure out if Joseph Smith really was a prophet. You find that out by praying. If you don't feel anything, happy living! What we, as members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints invite everyone to do is to pray, and listen. We know that if you pray with real intent, you will feel the truth of it. Real intent means you really want to know whether it's true or not. If you're already convinced it's false, what can God tell you? It sounds presumptuous to say that if you're not getting a yes answer, it's your fault. But, there it is. If you don't care, then don't worry about it. But, wouldn't you want to know the truth? If it is true, and all the blessings we promise, like eternal marriage and families and happiness here on earth, are real, then wouldn't you want that? Does all the finger-pointing matter, when all is said and done? It comes down to this: either it's true, or it isn't. I testify that it is. God and Jesus Christ appeared to a fourteen year old boy, and restored the true Church to the earth. The Book of Mormon is true. It really happened. Once you know that, all else will come. Of that I testify, in the name of my beloved Savior and Redeemer, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Piano Recitals and Flat Tires

I was young, maybe six or seven, I can't remember exactly. It was my first piano recital. I was all dressed up in my Sunday best. My parents were sitting three or four rows back in the Primary room at the Church. I waited anxiously for my turn. When it came, I walked to the piano, although to this day I don't know how I made it, with my Jell-o legs. With shaking hands, I hit the first chord. The song was from the LDS Children's Songbook, called "I Wonder When He Comes Again". The song is just short of two pages long, and about halfway through it, the notes from my memory and the muscle memory both flew right out my brain. It was gone. I sat there, hands shaking worse than ever, panicking, blood rushing to my fingertips as the impulse to flee threatened to overcome me. Just before I could convince my near-liquid legs to take on the weight of my body, I heard something. A whisper. It was my teacher, sitting in the front row, just to my right. "She can do it, I know she can do it." That's what she said. The possibility of running away now entirely out of the question, I sat there, nonplussed and confused. I couldn't remember the song, but I couldn't very well leave now, not with my teacher showing such confidence in me! What a pickle. But then suddenly it came to me. I remembered! I started exactly where I'd left off, and when I finished the last chord, and the sound died away, I stood, and grinned, first at my parents, and then at my teacher, courtseying as my teacher had instructed.

A couple years ago, I had some business to attend to at BYU. I drove my mom's car into the parking lot, parked, conducted my business and returned-only to find that in my absence, one of my tires had deflated. Flashing back to my first time on the road, which involved a curb, a flat tire and a lesson in which pedal is which, I knew exactly what to do. I opened the trunk, retrieved the necessary elements, jacked up the car, and proceeded to loosen the bolts. Except that they wouldn't budge. At all. It's like they were welded to the hubcap. When my arm strength proved too weak, I resorted to my legs, since they are larger muscles, and I could stand and put my weight on it. I must have looked pretty silly, stomping on the bar over and over again, with increasing frustration evident in the increasing force with which I brought my foot down. In the midst of this, I heard from behind me a male voice saying, "Whoa! Whoa!" as though I were beating a puppy. I turned and he walked over, indicating that he would assist me. Feeling a little hurt, I nevertheless conceded the mechanism to him. He took the bar, and began to struggle, first just a little and then with all his might. It wouldn't budge. Feeling vindicated, I looked at him, and he looked back at me. His chivalrous act was disintegrating before his very eyes. Eventually, he resorted to my own form of attack, and began stomping on it. I'd like to think that I loosened it for him, but he did eventually get the bolt loose, and then the others as well. We got the spare tire secured, and I thanked him for his help. It's hard to say who's pride was wounded more in the encounter.

In the first incident, I practiced for weeks upon weeks, memorizing and agonizing. In the second, it was a complete surprise, as was the complication. In either case, help came precisely when it was needed. In both, I knew what I was doing, but it didn't hurt to have a little extra push in the right direction. However things come our way, we can always rest assured that our Heavenly Father will never leave us stranded. Whether it's in the form of whispered words of encouragement or a proverbial Knight who comes to the rescue, even when we could probably do the job ourselves, He will never leave us alone. He always knows what we need and how we need it. All we have to do is learn to recognize and accept it.