Access to covenant power

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Morning Session of the April 2009 Conference.

I think it's fascinating that my deepening understanding of covenants in recent years doesn't necessarily mean no one has understood covenants until now. Ha! I mean, it's just that President Nelson is so good at explaining things, and I do think "the Lord is expanding the saints' understanding," so sometimes I feel like all this talk of "power through covenants" and "covenant connection" is some new thing. But I guess everyone who has studied covenants, or who has sought God's power, will eventually come to these same sorts of insights, and for proof we have Elder Christoffersen's talk in this 2009 conference session! It is SO good! And SO packed with doctrine! But I don't think I could have read it even ten years ago and had the context for understanding it that I have now, thanks to all the recent conference talks that have extended my knowledge. Here are a few parts of it that resonated with what I've been thinking about:

We need strong Christians who can persevere against hardship, who can sustain hope through tragedy, who can lift others by their example and their compassion, and who can consistently overcome temptations. We need strong Christians who can make important things happen by their faith.

This is a description of everything I want to be. So, how do I get there? Through the power of covenants, of course:

What is the source of such moral and spiritual power, and how do we obtain it? The source is God. Our access to that power is through our covenants with Him.

Elder Christoffersen explains so clearly the multiple ways that covenants with God give us power. I liked this thought:

First, as we walk in obedience to the principles and commandments of the gospel of Jesus Christ, we enjoy a continual flow of blessings promised by God in His covenant with us. Those blessings provide the resources we need to act rather than simply be acted upon as we go through life.…Obedience gives us greater control over our lives, greater capacity to come and go, to work and create. Of course, age, accident, and illnesses inevitably take their toll, but even so, our obedience to this gospel law enhances our capacity to deal with these challenges.

It's good to remember that even though, as we are constantly being reminded, we don't have control over all these things (age, accident, illness, trials etc)—that doesn't mean we can't have "greater control" by obeying God's commandments! That's the whole point of His laws—to help us go through life with more (not "all") agency. It feels comforting to know that we will always have the "resources we need" to cope with challenges, if we turn to God's instructions!

I also liked this reminder that whenever we feel the Spirit, we can take it as evidence of God's pleasure and be comforted by that:

…As we honor our covenants…faith expands. In the first place, the promised fruits of obedience become evident, which confirms our faith. Secondly, the Spirit communicates God’s pleasure, and we feel secure in His continued blessing and help.

It's a happy thought that even in my very imperfect days, I might have a few moments of feeling and knowing that God is happy with me. Elder Christoffersen also says:

Our covenant commitment to Him permits our Heavenly Father to let His divine influence, “the power of godliness,” flow into our lives. He can do that because by our participation in priesthood ordinances we exercise our agency and elect to receive it. Our participation in those ordinances also demonstrates that we are prepared to accept the additional responsibility that comes with added light and spiritual power.

I think it's interesting that many people might feel some desire for godly power. But many also don’t want to do something just because God or a prophet [or “an old white man”] says so. And that itself shows that they are not ready for more power, because they wouldn’t use it as God would. Our submission, our willingness to do whatever He says, demonstrates that we are at least starting to learn lessons about what true power means and how the greatest of all must be the servant of all. It shows, as Elder Christoffersen says, that we're ready to start practicing with that power.

I also loved this:

It is the Holy Ghost that reveals how you may clear the next seemingly insurmountable hurdle. It is by the Holy Ghost in you that others may feel the pure love of Christ and receive strength to press forward. It is also the Holy Ghost, in His character as the Holy Spirit of Promise, that confirms the validity and efficacy of your covenants and seals God’s promises upon you.

It's true. I don't fully understand it, but it's true! I can't even say how many times now I have pressed forward blindly, but obediently, and somehow "cleared the next seemingly insurmountable hurdle." And all those promises to covenant Israel President Nelson has wanted us to study really are relevant to our lives! God will send the strength, the helpers, and the wisdom that we need to face absolutely any trial! Those promises are "sealed upon us" as we cling to our covenants, and that is perhaps the most comforting truth of all!

Other posts in this series:

Provident Living—by Rozy

0

Eggs

The high schoolers (Daisy and Malachi) and I are doing a "writing group" this year and it's one of the best things ever. I (and occasionally Malachi, when he thinks he can get away with it) assign short essays or articles for reading, and then we take turns giving weekly writing assignments. I can't in good conscience get out of doing these assignments myself, so I've been accumulating some personal essays dredged up from life experiences. Some of these experiences really do deserve to be written about! And this is one of them.

I was scrubbing the stovetop one afternoon when I heard a strangled “Help!” Walking into the high-ceilinged living room, I was horrified to see the window guy hanging from the upper-story windowsill by his fingertips. His ladder was a few feet to his left.

“Oh no!” I said. 

“Hey,” the guy said, politely, but still in that strangled tone. His face was pressed against the wall. “Hey. Can you…uh…”

It had already been a strange afternoon. It wasn’t the first time I’d had the windows cleaned, of course. The second-story windows in that house seemed to attract grime. After a few rainstorms they’d be covered with water spots and I’d get progressively more fed up with them until I finally said yes to one of the constant stream of window-washers coming to our door.

I never quite knew if any of these prospective washers—always men in their early twenties, usually carrying clipboards—worked for an actual company or were at all otherwise on the up-and-up. Most of them produced some sort of business card, but these ranged wildly from semi-professsional-looking designs featuring rainclouds or squeegees to templates apparently chosen at random from a free word-processing program at the library. “We’re in your area,” the prospects would always say when I opened the door. “We’re doing, uh, Steve’s windows from down the street.” There was no Steve down the street. “We can offer you a good discount if you want yours done today.”

I usually sent them away with varying degrees of civility, but when I got desperate enough, I’d pick the nicest, least-shifty looking one and say, “Do you do the screens too?” This was my best narrowing technique, as most of them balked at the extra work. I’d had the screens cleaned by an earlier window-washer once, though, and it had made enough difference I didn’t ever want to go back.

Today was one of those days I'd been desperate enough. A dusty summer storm had left the windows looking like they were covered with one of those pinpricked window shades people put up to shade babies in cars, and it made the house feel dim, almost oppressive, inside. It bothered me enough that when the doorbell rang, I invited in a sad-looking, droopy-haired fellow with his ladder and box full of cleaning fluids. He did screens, he announced, and that decided me. The kids had been watching him work on the high living room windows for the last hour while I cleaned up the kitchen, and they remained staring up at him with useless and benign interest all the while I was hurrying in to see what had happened. At his broken-off plea for help I was already running for the ladder and moving it toward his dangling feet. “Hang on,” I said, unnecessarily. “Here we go…that should…” I scooted one of the higher rungs until it touched his toe, and he scrabbled about backwards with his foot until he could set it firmly on the ladder. He let go of the windowsill and let out a dramatic sigh. “Whoaaaaa,” he said, turning around to droop his upper body bonelessly down across the top of the ladder. “Whoaaa.”

“Are you okay?” I said. “How did that happen?”

“I leaned over too far,” he said from between his arms. “Feet slipped off. Barely caught the windowsill.”

“It was impressive!” I said. “I’m amazed you could hold on like that.”

“Whoaaaaa,” he moaned.

“Lucky it turned out okay!” I said brightly, uncomfortable with his growing distress. “You’re okay now!”

“Ohhhh mannnn,” he moaned, and I could hear him starting to breathe in and out more quickly.

“Hey, come on down from there,” I said. “Do you want to sit down for a minute? Before you get back to it, I mean?” I looked up at the half-cleaned window above us.

The droopy guy climbed down from the ladder rung by rung, feeling for each step with his foot before putting his weight on it. When he had reached the ground he said “ohhhh mannn” again, and I tried to smile reassuringly as he collapsed on a nearby couch. He flopped over the arm of it in the same way he’d flopped over the ladder. “Whoaaaa,” he said.

“I’ll just give you a minute while I finish the dishes,” I said cheerily. “Always plenty to do around here, ha ha!” The guy didn’t answer.

After I’d finished the stove, done the dishes, and wiped the counters I walked back into the living room. He was still lying there. “I make the best eggs,” he said, voice muffled by the arm of the couch.

“Pardon?” I said.

“Eggs,” he said. There was a silence.

“I bet you do,” I said to his back.

“I have a special technique,” he said. “I could show you.”

“That’s so fun,” I said, a little helplessly.

He sat up and flopped his hair out of his eyes. “I made it up,” he said. “But it makes the fluffiest eggs. You wouldn’t believe it.”

“A man of many talents,” I said jovially, looking at the ladder. “Eggs. And windows.”

“All I need is a frying pan and a little butter,” he said.

I scooted the ladder a few inches closer to the window. I laughed lightly. “Next time I need a cooking lesson!” I said. “I’ll know who to call! And these windows are starting to look good too!” 

“I’d do it for free,” he said unironically, and without warning, he buried his face in his hands again. 

“Ohhhhh mannnn. Ohhh mannnn.” He blew out the air in his lungs and moaned, then subsided into silence.

A minute went by.

“What kind of eggs?” I said.

He sat up again. “I don’t call them a certain kind of eggs,” he said. “It’s a whole technique. There’s no name for it. You have to get the pan scorching hot first. It freaks some people out.”

“Oh, no way,” I said.

He stood up. “I’ll show you right now,” he said. “You like eggs, right? You’ll never eat them any other way again. Do you have butter? And some oregano? And a frying pan? Some people don’t keep frying pans around, and I’m just like, what are you even doing, you know?”

“I know,” I said. I felt I had crossed some invisible point of no return, and he apparently sensed it too, because he went into the kitchen and started opening cupboards.

“Nice crock pot,” he said, as I followed him mutely and handed him a frying pan. “Don’t forget the butter,” he reminded me. “And a spatula.”

A few of the kids came into the kitchen and I picked up the toddler as an excuse for something to do. The window guy was narrating as he sliced a wedge of butter off the cube with the spatula and put it in the pan. “You don’t want too much, but it’s gotta be butter, you know? Not just butter. That freaks some people out.”

“Well, we like butter, don’t we!” I said, jouncing the toddler a little. “Oh—you’re really beating those eggs.”

He kept beating them with the flat end of the spatula, explaining his actions to me as he went. I waited with grim anticipation to see what the “secret method” would be. It was, it turned out, adding a splash of water to the eggs. When they were done, he divided them into two bowls and I ate mine, nodding in what I hoped was an appreciative manner while he told me how any other kind of eggs were going to be absolutely ruined for me now. “Some people don’t want to put in the effort for a decent egg,” he said. 

I stood up and put my bowl in the sink with an emphatic clank. “Speaking of effort,” I said. “Do you want me to help you move that ladder back over?”

“No thanks,” he said, flopping his hair. “I’ve been doing windows since before I could cook.”

3

Mold it into something of beauty

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Relief Society Session of the October 2008 Conference. 

"Happiness, Your Heritage." I remember this talk well from when I first heard it. I thought it was so interesting that Elder Uchtdorf picked out these two specific traits of God—creation and compassion—to highlight and suggest we emulate. This time, I thought it was interesting to think about the tension inherent in this gift of creation:

Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment. We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty.

I agree with this wholeheartedly. I don't know that I truly identify as a "creative person," but in this context, in wanting to take "unorganized matter" and make it more beautiful, I have felt (and still do feel) this desire. A large part of my enjoyment of motherhood has come in trying to create a home and a family life full of beauty. Where the tension comes in is that I'm gradually realizing how few things I really do have the power to "mold." I used to be so optimistic (idealistic? naive, maybe?) about getting my kids to "turn out" this or that specific way. And of course I should believe, need to believe, that I can influence my children—what would be the point of motherhood otherwise? But the cause-and-effect relationship—of what I want my children to do, and try to teach them to do, and what they actually do—is, to my sometime discouragement, not very strong. It's not that I'm unhappy with who my children are. I actually love seeing some of the surprising and unexpected ways their own personalities come into being. But there is much less "molding like clay" to raising children than I perhaps anticipated at first.

Elder Uchtdorf mentioned this in another talk, in fact—the idea that we as parents can nurture and provide environments for growth, but the growth and progression of another person is not within our control. I think when I first envisioned taking the "unorganized matter" of my home and children and molding it into "something of beauty," I had in mind that I'd have more control over the final result. That indeed would have brought "deep satisfaction and fulfillment"!

But now I'm realizing that I have to find fulfillment in the process of simply creating, as best I can, an environment of beauty and love. Not in the final result. Not in the choices of others. But in the process and joy of serving and bringing good, whatever good I can, into the world. In the work and effort of nurture and development. And I have to trust Jesus Christ and His power to ultimately "give the increase," in His own time and His own way.

Other posts in this series:

Julie B. Beck—Revisiting Goals—by Jan

Fulfilling the Purpose of Relief Society—by Rozy

0

Februarying

We made millions of chocolates for Valentine's Day. The girls had vague ideas, last summer when we learned to make these, of selling them. They really are good enough to sell! But then it seemed like such a lot of trouble to figure out how to actually do that. So we decided to just give them away to all our neighbors and friends instead. It was fun.

Daisy and Goldie (and me) melted and tempered and dipped all afternoon. It was hard work! (Daisy felt it would be improper to just smile gaily after such hard work. It was serious.)

All right, I admit they are not perfectly shaped. We're still working on that.😄 But they are perfectly well-tempered and perfectly delicious! We made orange cream again. And caramels, of course. And we tried lime cream fillings this time too. They were good! Next time we'll put lime zest in them and they will be even better.

5

Safe in his loving arms

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Afternoon Session of the October 2008 Conference.

Just a quick quote today. I remembered Elder Cook's talk "Hope ya know, we had a hard time" because of the cute story at the beginning. I didn't remember much more about it. But I keep thinking about how much comfort and healing for so many trials, so many unfairnesses, so many wounds of mortality, is contained in this simple doctrine:

I could tell, as our three-year-old talked to his mother and told her of the hard time, he gained comfort and then reassurance. Our prayers are that way when we go to our Father in Heaven. We know He cares for us in our time of need.…

I testify that the Atonement of Jesus Christ covers all of the trials and hardships that any of us will encounter in this life. At times when we may feel to say, “Hope you know, I had a hard time,” we can be assured that He is there and we are safe in His loving arms.

There's so much more Jesus can do for it than this, of course. He can help us learn from trials, grow from them, move past our old selves and become so much more. But even if all He ever did was just "hold us safe in His loving arms" while we cried and told him how hard it was—that would be an amazing gift. It's amazing how many times I have gone to God in prayer and just told him all the things I'm sad, scared, and discouraged about. And every time I come away feeling better. It's miraculous to think that no matter what we come to God with—questions, doubts, complaints, failures—He sends us away with comfort and reassurance and resolve. What a gift for a parent to give a child!

Other posts in this series:

The secret sauce is pondering—by Jan Tolman

Life is hard—by Rozy

1

Not for the weak

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Morning Session of the October 2008 Conference.

Elder Hales' talk was so good! He spoke on a topic I feel I am only just barely beginning to understand. It's a topic I feel is very much "for recent days" (and has been talked about so much lately by President Nelson and President Oaks!) so it's interesting that he was already talking about it 17 years ago. He starts with this:

One of mortality’s great tests comes when our beliefs are questioned or criticized. In such moments, we may want to respond aggressively—to “put up our dukes.” But these are important opportunities to step back, pray, and follow the Savior’s example. …When we respond to our accusers as the Savior did, we not only become more Christlike, we invite others to feel His love and follow Him as well.

I say I'm just beginning to understand this not because it's anything new, obviously. Of course I've known since I was little that we should "love our enemies" etc. But I think I've just kind of held back in my mind, and still do to some extent, thinking, "Well…but…you have to defend goodness and stand up to evil. And you can't back down on that. And mean people use 'niceness' against nice people." …Along with a bunch of other excuses which have valid and defensible points but are, ultimately,  not the point. That's what I'm learning.

And it's not like Elder Hales is advocating some naive passivity. He says,

"To respond in a Christlike way cannot be scripted or based on a formula.…Some people mistakenly think responses such as silence, meekness, forgiveness, and bearing humble testimony are passive or weak. But to “love [our] enemies, bless them that curse [us], do good to them that hate [us], and pray for them which despitefully use [us], and persecute [us]” takes faith, strength, and, most of all, Christian courage.…

When we do not retaliate—when we turn the other cheek and resist feelings of anger—we … stand with the Savior. We show forth His love, which is the only power that can subdue the adversary and answer our accusers without accusing them in return. That is not weakness. That is Christian courage.

That idea that resisting even feelings of anger is an act of discipleship and courage is so powerful. Again, there have been so many times in my life where I just can't stand to give up on my "justified" outrage over some unfairness. I feel so secure in my own unassailable "rightness" that I miss the entire lesson, which isn't about being right at all! (And it's so funny that I struggle with this, because I see it so clearly and think it's so dumb when my kids do it to each other! I see them deceiving even themselves all the time, pretending all they want is to get other people to follow the rules, all they want is that “justice” be served—when in reality it is all about their own pride and being right. They are so filled with confidence in their own position that they are blind. And I know I am often just as blind for the same reason!)

There are so many great doctrines in this talk. I especially loved:

As we respond to others, each circumstance will be different. Fortunately, the Lord knows the hearts of our accusers and how we can most effectively respond to them. As true disciples seek guidance from the Spirit, they receive inspiration tailored to each encounter. And in every encounter, true disciples respond in ways that invite the Spirit of the Lord.

…As true disciples, our primary concern must be others’ welfare, not personal vindication. Questions and criticisms give us an opportunity to reach out to others and demonstrate that they matter to our Heavenly Father and to us. Our aim should be to help them understand the truth, not defend our egos or score points in a theological debate. Our heartfelt testimonies are the most powerful answer we can give our accusers. And such testimonies can only be borne in love and meekness.

and then a key point:

These qualities are first learned in the home and family and can be practiced in all our relationships.

I am beginning to see how some of the most frustrating interactions with my children, where I've felt so hurt and betrayed and unappreciated, and have wondered "Why do I always have to be the one who says sorry and reaches out again"—the times when it has all seemed most unfair, and it is unfair—are also the times when I'm getting this essential practice in love, patience, and meekness. These are the places where I'm starting to glimpse how only love, not contentious argument, can influence others. And where I'm learning that having and keeping the Spirit is actually more comforting than the impossible goal of getting everyone to just quit being bad all the time and agree with me. :) 

And maybe in another forty years I'll have made enough progress to echo with any credibility these beautiful words of Elder Hales:

To all who seek to know how we should respond to our accusers, I reply, we love them. Whatever their race, creed, religion, or political persuasion, if we follow Christ and show forth His courage, we must love them. We do not feel we are better than they are. Rather, we desire with our love to show them a better way—the way of Jesus Christ. …To help them, to be an example for them, is not for the weak. It is for the strong. It is for you and me, Latter-day Saints who pay the price of discipleship by answering our accusers with Christian courage.

Other posts in this series:

Fearlessly following the spirit—by Jan Tolman

Christian Courage—by Rozy

4