The fulness of the earth

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Afternoon Session of the October 1991 Conference.

Remember when President Nelson gave his talk on the Sabbath Day? It was even before he became the President of the Church, but I remember it seemed like such an important talk at the time, maybe because my ward and stake really emphasized it and made goals and themes based on it. It seemed like the whole church was focused on improving Sabbath Day worship that year. (I've probably even written about it. Yes, I have, here among other places.)

I remember thinking, after that talk, that of all the things he could have chosen to focus on (gay marriage had just been legalized in the U.S., if I recall correctly, and there were also many other current issues I felt we needed prophetic guidance about)—why would he choose the Sabbath Day? Looking back, it seems to fit perfectly in the long line of guidance given to prepare us for upcoming changes—and obviously we've all reflected on how all of THAT prepared us for life during the pandemic—and is probably also preparing us for things we still have yet to face! But even already knowing some of what we were being prepared for, I'm still intrigued by these blessings tied to the Sabbath Day, and feel like I have more to learn about them. 

President Faust's talk from this October 1991 Conference was on the Sabbath Day as well, and I see the seeds in it of that all the same things President Nelson was still talking about in 2015. President Faust begins:

My brothers and sisters and friends, for some time I have pondered what I might speak about today. I seem to have been led in my thinking by a concern that so many in our generation are missing great blessings by not honoring the Lord’s day.

I confess that as a young boy, Sunday was not my favorite day. Grandfather shut down the action. We didn’t have any transportation. We couldn’t drive the car. He wouldn’t even let us start the motor. We couldn’t ride the horses, or the steers, or the sheep. It was the Sabbath, and by commandment, the animals also needed rest. We walked to Church and everywhere else we wanted to go. I can honestly say that we observed both the spirit and the letter of Sabbath worship.

By today’s standards, perhaps Grandfather’s interpretation of Sabbath day activities seems extreme, but something wonderful has been lost in our lives. To this day, I have been pondering to try to understand fully what has slipped away. Part of it was knowing that I was well on the Lord’s side of the line. Another part was the feeling that Satan’s influence was farther away. Mostly it was the reinforcement received by the spiritual power which was generated. We had the rich feeling that the spiritual “fulness of the earth” was ours, as promised by the Lord in section 59 of the Doctrine and Covenants.

That language is so forceful—"something wonderful has been lost." And then his reasoning is fascinating to me: "Satan's influence was farther away…spiritual power was generated…the spiritual fullness of the earth was ours."

I've put consistent effort into improving our Sabbath Days for years now, and I think I'm getting better at it for myself. (As for helping my kids do better…I don't know.) But President Faust's words have me pondering if there's even more we can do. There's a certain feeling I'm reaching for, which this talk stirred in me. I don't know quite how to describe it, except I feel it every now and then when I'm up early running and praying, and I've poured out my whole soul until I feel completely empty, and then a sort of stillness comes in and fills me back up. Or sometimes when I'm going to sleep, and I can feel my muscles all tense with worry, so I go through from head to toe and consciously relax my jaw and my shoulders and my legs and my toes…and then I relax them even more…and then I relax them even more. And the flowing out of that tension I didn't even know I was carrying almost feels the same as energy flowing in.

Anyway, that's how the Sabbath feels to me…or how it seems like it should feel, and how it does feel when I do it right. It's a day full of stress and busy-ness and chaos in some ways; we're all home together, I'm trying to feed myself spiritually while still making sure the kids are being taught what they need to be taught—but the change from our "usual things" to our "Sunday things" CAN feel like a release, when I make it different enough. President Faust's description of "spiritual power" and the "richness" of feeling that earth is full and there's enough for you—I've felt that. On the best of my Sabbath Days, I feel renewed in an almost mystical way, like being emptied to be filled, or finding direction out of stillness. It's not what you'd expect. What I always wish for is quiet, unbroken stretches of time to reflect and read and study; I wish for all the interruptions to go away; I wish for time "for myself." That's what SEEMS like it would renew me. But it turns out it usually works better to just give myself over to the Sabbath—the demands and the obligations—and just do those things in a spirit of giving to God, a "sign between God and me"—and when I do, the renewal somehow rushes in.

President Faust says:

God knows that, left completely to our own devices without regular reminders of our spiritual needs, many would degenerate into the preoccupation of satisfying earthly desires and appetites. This need for physical, mental, and spiritual regeneration is met in large measure by faithful observance of the Sabbath day.…

In this day of increasing access to and preoccupation with materialism, there is a sure protection for ourselves and our children against the plagues of our day. The key to that sure protection surprisingly can be found in Sabbath observance: “And that thou mayest more fully keep thyself unspotted from the world, thou shalt go to the house of prayer and offer up thy sacraments upon my holy day.”

It doesn't really make sense to my earthly reasoning. But I have glimpsed it, and I want to find ways to experience it more reliably—that fulness that comes from joyfully observing the Sabbath Day.