No Coincidences

Tag: jesus christ

  • Sickness

    Sickness

    I’d like to share a poem by Boyd K Packer.

    In ancient times the cry “Unclean!”
    Would warn of lepers near.
    “Unclean! Unclean!” the words rang out;
    Then all drew back in fear,

    Lest by the touch of lepers’ hands
    They, too, would lepers be.
    There was no cure in ancient times,
    Just hopeless agony.
     · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·
     But there was One, the record shows,
    Whose touch could make them pure;
    Could ease their awful suffering,
    Their rotting flesh restore.
     · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·
     The day He made ten lepers whole,
    The day He made them clean,
    Well symbolized His ministry
    And what His life would mean.
     However great that miracle,
    This was not why He came.
    He came to rescue every soul
    From death, from sin, from shame.
     · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·
     What must be done to make us clean
    We cannot do alone.
    The law, to be a law, requires
    A pure one must atone.
     He taught that justice will be stayed
    Till mercy’s claim be heard
    If we repent and are baptized
    And live by every word.
     · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·
     If we could only understand
    All we have heard and seen,
    We’d know there is no greater gift
    Than those two words—“Washed clean!”

    Leprosy was a terrible disease. The skin rotting before the afflicted’s own eyes.

    One day we will stand before Christ and feel how unclean we really are. How grateful will we be for the Atonement in that moment? I’m grateful that we can be washed clean from all our misdeeds, errant thoughts, unkindness, and mistakes. All because He suffered our folly for us.

    While I’m not overexcited to see all my shortcomings, it will be a powerful moment to truly see and understand what Christ did for me. I have an idea now. One day I’ll see and know.

    He died for me.

  • Raising our Children

    Raising our Children

    I don’t understand the timing of eternity. I don’t understand how it’s going to work out.

    There is a peculiar promise made to Emma Smith in church history. That promise was that she would be able to raise to adulthood the children she had lost.

    I always found this strange.

    Why would she want to raise her children after life on earth? Their souls will be grown, and they will no longer need rearing to adulthood like they would have needed on earth. Are there children in heaven?

    Then the other day I was spending time with Ivy and Sage. Wren was also in the room. Ivy said something very smart. Sage said something very cute. Wren spit up. I realized how precious each of these phases was.

    While I’d always considered this promise strange, in that moment it made sense. I wouldn’t want to miss out on any of these moments or phases with my daughters. Each age, each moment, each day is so unique with each of them.

    Right now Ivy is becoming so smart and so helpful.

    Right now Sage is so trusting and so happy.

    Right now Wren is so innocent and so cute.

    I could add 100 more individual adjectives for them at these specific moments. They are each so unique.

    A common theme of my prayers is asking God the question: What did I do to earn these precious gifts?

    I don’t know how I could possibly be worthy of these unique and special souls that have been sent down to me. I look at Ivy, Sage, and Wren and just marvel at who they are.

    I marvel that the world goes day-to-day without answers to these questions:

    Why am I here?

    Where did I come from?

    Where am I going?

    What happens to those we love when they move on?

    This life is so hard but without the inkling of an understanding of what comes next, it seems so hopeless.

    The Plan of Salvation is a Plan of Happiness. Because God loves us He gave us families. Because He loves us He gave us the chance to come to this planet to learn.

    I marvel at this plan and that I get to be a part of it.

    I don’t know exactly how things work after this life. I don’t know how eternity works. But I do know that God is perfect and He loves us perfectly. I know that nothing will be lost – not one moment, not one gift.

    I know that God gave me these daughters not for this life but for eternity. I know we’ll be together forever.

  • Ivy and Jesus with the Light

    Ivy and Jesus with the Light

    I was working on my laptop and Ivy saw a picture. It was an abstract-looking drawing of a long-haired individual meditating.

    Ivy said, “It’s Jesus.”

    Her and Sage say this if they see pretty much any image of a long-haired individual.

    It makes me happy every time.

    I chuckled.

    Then Ivy said, “Show Jesus with the light.”

    I paused like you often have to do when talking with 4-year-olds to figure out what she meant.

    Jesus with the light…

    Hmm…

    Then it came to me what she meant. I pulled up this image and showed it to her:

    “Yes! That’s it!” She looked fondly at the picture.

    My happiness turned to joy.

    This picture has a special place in my heart as it was once an answer to prayer that I’ve remembered ever since.

    When I was just returning to church, I attended a fireside one Sunday evening. I dragged Chris along with me. As he and I were walking around the church building halls before the meeting got started, we paused at the above picture, which is present in so many of our church buildings.

    We both looked at it.

    “Why do they look the same?” Chris asked.

    Huh. I’d looked at this picture at least 346,000 times but never really realized or thought about it. They did look the same. I didn’t know the answer.

    Chris shrugged and moved on. I was kind of annoyed I didn’t know the answer to a question I felt I should know. Or at the very least something I should have noticed in my 346,001 viewing of the painting.

    We went into the fireside.

    The speaker was introduced and he stood to speak. He powered on a projector and an image was displayed behind him. 

    Drum roll please.

    You guessed it.

    The image displayed was none other than the painting Chris and I had just been observing in the hall.

    The speaker began, “Does anyone know why the figures in this image look so much alike?”

    My head jerked to look at Chris next to me. Was he hearing this?!

    The speaker went on to explain that the scriptures tell us that Jesus Christ is in the express image of His father. Jesus Christ and our Heavenly Father look alike. Makes sense, He is His Son, after all.

    I can’t remember why the speaker talked about this. It wasn’t a major point. It was something I think he assumed most of us knew (I didn’t!). He proceeded onto his main point that I can’t remember.

    I was shocked.

    Chris asked a question. We received an answer.

    I considered this a miracle.

    I think Chris shrugged and thought, ‘what a coincidence.’

    I have joy today because I came back to church. I have joy today because I consider every day what Jesus Christ did for me yesterday, today, and tomorrow. I have joy today because Ivy and Sage say “Jesus!” every time they see an image of a long-haired man.

    NoCoincidences.

  • Why can’t Anyone go in an LDS Temple?

    Why can’t Anyone go in an LDS Temple?

    In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, our temples are sacred. Many people know this by the fact that they aren’t allowed in. This can, understandably, cause some negative emotions. Nobody likes to be excluded from anything.

    I heard an anecdote that really stuck with me.

    A man was telling a story about when he was a missionary and held Q&A sessions with local churches in the Bible Belt south. One of these sessions, a nice little elderly woman asked a not so nice question, “Why is your church exclusionary and doesn’t let people into your temples?”

    The man explained that he immediately realized this woman wasn’t able to attend the sealing of someone she cared about, which created this understandable animosity. He asked the old woman and learned she wasn’t able to attend the temple sealing of a beloved granddaughter.

    A somewhat standard response to this question is that it is about worthiness, that you must be worthy to enter the temple. Many Biblical examples can be used to illustrate this point.

    As the man was about to respond this way, he felt an impression to not give this standard response. He realized talking about worthiness wouldn’t be right with this woman. This was a Bible loving, Christ loving, Bible belt evangelical Christian. Telling her she wasn’t worthy wouldn’t be fair.

    Personally, I would have explained covenants in this moment. That one needs to make sacred covenants to enter certain places. This man received an altogether different impression, and this is the part that struck me.

    He asked her, “Do you believe that the Book of Mormon is the word of God.”

    She replied, “No offense, but no.”

    He asked her, “Do you believe this is Christ’s true church on the face of the earth?”

    She replied, “No offense, no, I don’t believe that.”

    He asked her, “Do you believe that Joseph Smith is a prophet?”

    She replied, “No offense, no.”

    Each time he told her he didn’t blame her for not believing it. That if it weren’t for the witness of the spirit to him, he wouldn’t believe it himself. He then asked her, “Do you believe that ancient prophets came to earth to bestow the keys of the sealing power to bind on earth what is bound in heaven as Matthew details in chapter 16?”

    She replied, “That’s in Matthew 16? I never thought of that. But no, I don’t believe that.”

    The man told her that’s OK, but he does believe all those things. Then he transitioned somewhere I did not expect, the story of Jairus’s daughter being raised from the dead (Mark 5:22-43, Luke 8:40-56).

    The man asked her if she knew the story and of course this avid Bible studier knew it.

    He directed her attention to the moment when Christ arrived at the home. The girl was dead. Those there mourning mocked Christ when He said she was just sleeping.

    Then what did Christ do?

    He “put them all out.”

    Christ had to remove all the lack of faith from the room. Christ, the Master. He let Peter, James, and John stay. He let the mother and the father stay. They had faith. He removed all those that didn’t believe.

    The man explained that when he goes to a temple, it’s not a marriage ceremony. It’s not until death do us part. Just like when Christ brought that girl back from the dead, telling death that it had no power before Him, the same is happening in temples. The priesthood power of temple sealing is telling death, “You can’t have this couple. This couple is protected. This couple is sealed. Even in death, death can not split them up. They are one. They are united.” It’s as if Christ Himself is saying, “They are mine, and you cannot have them.”

    That is what happens in Christ’s temples. Couples are sealed.

    The man then explained that when he attends a temple sealing, his faith becomes part of it. He contributes his faith to that couple. His provides his belief that they will be sealed for eternity.

    He then explained, “You admitted you don’t believe these things. Would you mingle your lack of belief in a place of faith? Would you have Christ keep the nonbelievers in the room to see the miracle?”

    Now, this isn’t the only reason people who aren’t members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints can’t enter temples. Worthiness is a part of it. As I already mentioned, covenants are a part of it.

    But I loved this part I’d never thought about, faith is also part of it.

    I am grateful that God provided a plan and His Son so that I can be sealed to my family for eternity. I love my family. I never want to leave them. Now I look at Ivy, Sage, Beth. I can’t fathom a life without them. They are everything. I thank God every day for the sealing power and the gift He has allowed me to be sealed to them for time and all eternity.

  • Suffering, a Moment, a Breakdown

    Suffering, a Moment, a Breakdown

    I want to share a story that just happened to me.

    I don’t know why it happened. I don’t know what happened. That’s why I’m writing it. Maybe writing it down will help me to understand.

    It’s 1/2/25 at 9:00 in the morning. It’s my first day back at work in something like 2 weeks. I’m driving to a client’s office. I’m listening to a podcast called Y Religion. They’re discussing 50 relics of the restoration; 50 items from the time the gospel of Jesus Christ was being restored.

    They mention a microphone used by Spencer W. Kimball. I love Spencer W. Kimball. He is one of my favorite prophets.

    As I’m writing this, I’m remembering what they talked about before this microphone. What they talked about before this microphone was the original manuscript of Jesus the Christ written by James E. Talmage. They emphasized that the writing of Jesus the Christ, one of the most impactful books of my life, was inspired by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints attempting to re-emphasize its focus on what is most important: Jesus Christ.

    The podcasters said sometimes the culture needs to be reminded of what our most important focus is.

    I wondered if the Church needs that reminder again today.

    I remember thinking that President Russell M. Nelson, a prophet today, is trying.

    They talked about the microphone. Brad Wilcox, the provider of one of my all-time favorite talks/speeches/dissertations (His Grace is Sufficient) started talking about Spencer W. Kimball. He shared a story from when he was on his mission and for the first time would hear a radio broadcast of General Conference. Back in those days, certain countries only got Conference in written word months after Conference completed. Brad Wilcox as a young missionary was disappointed when the radio turned on and he realized it was just a translator. Of course it was a translator. The message needed to be broadcast to this particular area in Spanish.

    Then, he said, Spencer W. Kimball came on the radio with his telltale, well-known scratchy voice. The small group of saints asked Brad, “Who is that????”

    He replied, and as he told the story he choked up, “That is the prophet of God.”

    On the podcast, they then started to discuss the sacrifice that Spencer Kimball went through – losing his vocal cords and continuing to preach, speak regularly, and guide God’s church.

    I thought about that sacrifice.

    What have we gone through?

    Have we lost our vocal cords and then been asked to continue to preach?

    I thought about that sacrifice. I thought about that prophet of God. I thought about that voice.

    And while I was driving in the car, I was crying. I didn’t even know I was crying. I didn’t know why I was crying. I still don’t know why I was crying.

    I started thinking about why I was crying.

    They talked about the kindness of Spencer W. Kimball and how losing his vocal cords made him so gentle, so empathetic to the suffering of others.

    I thought about my current calling as Elders Quorum President.

    I thought about how much I fall short in that calling.

    I thought about telling my quorum that I’m a bad ministering brother. But I try. And asking them, who are also bad ministering brothers, to also try.

    I thought about all the suffering I’ve learned about in our ward since becoming president. I thought about all the loneliness and sickness and illness and suffering and heartache.

    I thought about my daughters.

    I thought about the client I was about to see and some of the personal things he had told me about his family when he invited me to a Suns game once.

    I thought about the suffering of his family.

    I thought about all the suffering my daughters would have to endure in this life.

    And I asked why.

    And I cried harder.

    And I reminded myself of why.

    We know the why. Luckily, I know the why. I’ve written about it here a hundred times.

    And then I pulled up to a light. And I looked directly at a homeless man. And I thought about giving him a dollar. And I wondered if the light was going to change. And I thought about how I didn’t want him to have to limp over to me for a dollar. Then he started to limp over to me. And I let him pass. And I let him walk back by me. And I wondered if he had a drug addiction.

    And I thought about all the suffering in the world.

    And I cried.

    I wrote this. And I still don’t know quite what it means.

    I know the world is going to get a lot harder and there’s going to be a lot of suffering.

    And I’m going to ask why, despite knowing the answer.

    And I realize that sometimes knowing why will make it easier, maybe even help, and sometimes, maybe it won’t.

    And I worry about my daughters.

    And I worry about this world.

    And I worry about all the lost and lonely people.

    And I wonder why.

    And I want Jesus Christ to come back so it can stop. I want to help. But my efforts seem so small and fruitless. I’m a bad ministering brother and a bad Elders Quorum President and I wonder, I can’t possibly be who God needs in this position now.

    And I feel so small.

    And I just want Christ to come back and fix it all.

    But I know before that happens this all has to get a lot harder. It has to get so much harder.

    And I worry.

    And I have faith.

    And I wonder if my faith is enough.

    And I cry.

    So I wipe my eyes and blow my nose, hoping the client can’t tell that I’ve been crying. And I go about my day, always with why in the back of my mind.