I Know That My Redeemer Lives

Recent discussions on the news regarding the personal religious beliefs of certain political figures have churned up strong feelings with many people, me included.  My Facebook page has been buzzing with shared videos, commentaries and blogs in response to the position of some that members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) are not Christians.  Members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are often confused at how someone could say we’re not Christians when the very name of the church should be enough to dispel that statement.  It has been my understanding, however, that most of the ever-shrinking minority of folks who assert this position aren’t saying that we don’t believe in Jesus Christ, they mean that we don’t believe in Him in the same way that they do.  They are really speaking of the differences between our doctrine and theirs.  A much better way of putting it, instead of blanketing the airwaves with the ignorant statement, “Mormons are not Christians”, would have been for Pastor Jeffress to have said, “I believe that Mormons are misguided in their understanding of Jesus Christ and His teachings.”  That is a belief to which he has every right.  Is Pastor Jeffress a bigot for believing that he is right and I am wrong?  No.  Otherwise, I’d be labeled a bigot too.  I hesitate to join the debate because it’s really not worth arguing about.  We are Christians.  However, I have had an inclination lately to publicly state some of my own feelings about what I believe and why I believe them, and I may as well start there.

There’s a reason why I and millions like me have such a visceral reaction to the statement:  “You are not a Christian.”  In my own case, my love for Jesus Christ is so central to who I am, and has been for so long, that to be told I don’t believe He is my Savior is an insult that pierces deeply into my guts.  Please allow me to declare my personal testimony to the embarrassingly few who will read this and to the billions who won’t.  I know that Jesus is The Christ, the only begotten Son of God the Father.  I know that Jesus Christ was born of Mary in Bethlehem, lived his mortal life in Palestine, suffered and died for the sins and infirmities of all mankind, was resurrected and lives today.  Now, there is a difference between “knowing” something is true and “believing” something is true.  My religion is built of many, many particulars, details and doctrines, some of which, for me, fall into the category of belief, while others I feel comfortable saying that I know them to be true.  Jesus Christ being the Son of God and the Savior and Redeemer of the world is something I know to be true.  May I tell a story that I hope will be an illustration (albeit a poor one) of how I can know?  Ok, here goes: 

A few years back I had my appendix out.  I had just started a new job and was still in training.  I was training with some fellows that were quickly becoming very good friends to me, and I was really feeling good and happy.  We all went to eat lunch one day at a Chinese restaurant, and though it was a lot of fun, a short time later I wasn’t feeling too well.  I was feeling some pain in my abdomen area.  At the same time I began to feel nauseated.  Well, the obvious conclusion was that something I ate wasn’t sitting too well with me.  Later that evening at home I started to wonder if there was something more serious going on.  The pain in my abdomen wasn’t real bad, just constant, but the nausea was really bugging me.  Just to be safe, I went in to the E.R. to get it checked out.  They took a scan and told me that my appendix was getting ready to burst.  This really surprised me at first because, from my experience (watching TV), appendicitis hurts a lot.  Shoot, Henry Blake on MASH was doubled over with pain and could barely walk.  Though this wasn't the case with me, they assured me that I needed my appendix out, and I believed them.  I did have pain in my abdomen.  I was nauseated.  I knew I wasn’t sick with a cold or the flu or something, so appendicitis seemed to be a logical diagnosis, especially when the guy that told me had a white doctor’s coat on and a stethoscope around his neck.  I went in to surgery a little apprehensive, like most, I suppose.  I remember wondering how long I could force myself to stay awake when they administered the anesthesia, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in the recovery room.  The moment I opened my eyes I was very aware of the lack of nausea in my life.  The doctor came in and asked how I was.  He told me that the procedure went well, and that we caught it just in time. 

So, I know, boring story, but let me sum up.  I now know that I had appendicitis, and that the doctor dude did remove my appendix.  Before the surgery, the first time he told me what the problem was, I believed him.  I had symptoms of appendicitis, and I had faith that he knew what he was talking about because he was a doctor.  After the surgery I knew beyond any doubt that the doctor’s diagnosis was correct, and that the actions he took to heal me did, in fact, save me.  I knew this because of the difference it made in what I was feeling, and because the promised results were realized.

"He Is Risen" -Del Parson from ldsart.com 

Anywayz, I hope that makes sense.   It really is a poor explanation.  The actual events, experiences and spiritual feelings that I have had in my life that have given me the knowledge that I possess of the divinity of Jesus Christ just can’t be contained in my imperfect words.  I understand the insufficiencies of my answer to the question, “How do you know,” but this is all I got:  I just do.  (See Matthew 16: 13-17)

Besides the usual stupid stuff I write about, future blogs will also contain some religious discourse.  Hope that’s ok with all 4 of my followers J.

Thanks for listening…jb

The Parable of the Chocolate Donut and the Dr. Pepper

There just wasn’t anything on TV, and it was raining outside.  Lots of stuff needed doing on this, my day off, but wet grass and a muddy garden strengthened my natural desire to avoid chores and vegetate.  The room had a gloomy darkness to it, no matter what lights I turned on. 




Lots of rain

 

It would be 2 hours before Em came home from work.  She knows how to motivate me to return to earth and be productive, but until then, and with the lack of anything interesting on TV, I thought I’d peruse the computer.  I caught up on my facebook.  I looked at emails, most of which were facebook notifications.  I saved the worst for last: a look at my bank account.  That didn’t help the depressing mood at all.  Mortgage this and utilities that and car payment those and lines of credit these; overdraft, overdraft, overdraft…




Nothing on TV

 

As boredom and/or depression often do to me, I started craving comfort foods.  There’s a gas station right up the road from my house.  We call it SAG’s, although the name was changed years and years ago.  This gas station sells those yummy chocolate cake donuts with the chocolate frosting.  If you’re lucky you can sometimes catch one in their day old rack, but usually not; they’re too popular.  Of course, you gotta get a soda with your donut.  A sip of a good soda (I like Dr. Pepper) mixed with a bite of a good, chocolate donut reveals a new sensation of deliciousness.  The effect is synergetic.  In other words, the donut is yummy, the soda is yummy, and the soda plus the donut is yummy, yielding a three-level wonderland of delight.  Despite having no money in my pockets and a fearfully low amount in my account, I left the house in a drizzly rain for the three-block round trip walk to SAG’s.  It’s funny how the lack of money makes you want to spend money. 




This is me getting a Dr. Pepper refill at the real SAG's in 1989.  Like the shorts?  174 pounds and all my hair, thank you.

 

About half way to SAG’s my journey was interrupted by the appearance of a giant, purple, magic bunny rabbit.  It was about 8-feet tall, and looked like it would feel like a stuffed animal from Walmart if I’d dared touch it.  He had friendly eyes, and spoke as if he knew me, even called me by name.  He said that he is aware of the difficulties of my life, and that he had some information for me, which would bring happiness to me and my family.  I strained to make my ears grow as big as his as I listened to his message.  The giant, purple, magic bunny rabbit said that there was a treasure worth approximately $67,000,000,000,000 (that’s 67 trillion dollars, folks) buried a short distance from here, and that he was going to give me directions so that I could find it with no trouble, and that it would be mine to use as I will.  At that point, I think my ears were bigger than the bunny’s were. 



Sample bunny off the internet.  Mine was more purple, and lots nicer looking.



His directions were fairly easy to follow, but he talked for a long time.  As the minutes rolled by, and the giant, purple, magic bunny rabbit kept talking and talking, my mind began to wander.  I could feel my tummy rumbling, and my taste buds crying out for a chocolate donut and a Dr. Pepper.  I forced my mind back to the bunny’s words, trying to picture what I had to do to go to where this humungous fortune was hidden and claim it.  Soon, though, my thoughts wandered again, back to the anticipation of how yummy it would be when the donut mixed with the soda in my mouth.  At that moment my mind’s focus jumped back to the words of the giant bunny as he wished me the very best of luck with my new fortune.  In a flash of purple haze, he was gone.  For the life of me, I couldn’t recall most of the directions he gave me.  I’m sure he mentioned some kind of tree, and a particularly shaped rock, and something about a road, but I just couldn’t remember any helpful details.  I stood there in shock at the opportunity that I had let slip through my fingers because I allowed myself to be distracted by a stupid Dr. Pepper & chocolate donut craving.  My heart sank lower than ever.  I thought, "At least I am going to finish my walk to SAG’s and get my yummy treats."  Lucky for me, there were two chocolate donuts in the day old rack.  I grabbed them both, filled up my refill mug with Dr. Pepper and ice, paid for them with my debit card and left the store.  With still nothing on TV, I ate my treats in silence.  They tasted like I remembered, but weren’t as enjoyable as I’d hoped.  Half way through the second donut, my tummy started to ache.  I set the rest of the uneaten donut down with disgust, and said out loud to myself, “I can’t believe I could have had enough money to provide me, my family and my posterity with such joy a thousand times over, and all I ended up with is a dang stomachache.”




Me reading the scriptures.  Get it?

 If you haven't figured out the real meaning in my parable, I'm speaking of those things that distract us and keep us from claiming the ultimate treasure.  A donut is a pretty silly thing to keep us from such a prize, but, then again, so is anything.  A temptation that diverts our attention from what we know is right by promising us a delight to our senses will always leave us feeling empty, and often causes real pain.  Don't let silly things that hurt your tummy distract you from the treasure of Eternal Life. 

Thanks for listening...jb

Happy Easter, 2011

Anytime I smell vinegar, I think of coloring Easter eggs.  Never could figure what eggs & bunnies have to do with Easter, but it’s all good (all the time).  My favorite Easter candy is Robin Eggs.  I can’t have a bag of Robin Eggs around without eating every single one of them. 



Photo from internet



My wife has the completely foreign to me ability of opening up a candy bar, taking one bite and leaving the rest to rot.  Three days or more will go by and there it will sit, beckoning in deafening shrieks for me to come eat it.  When I finally relent, Emilie notices right off, and it never fails to coincide with her urge to take another bite or two.  Although it baffles and frustrates me, I really admire that about her.



Photo from internet



I grew up in a not particularly religious household.  I mean, I knew that Easter was about more than the Easter Egg hunt at the Spanish Fork ball park, potato salad and Easter baskets filled with weird grass and candy, but those are the things that I remember most.  One of my favorite family memories is an Easter picnic we spent out in the mountains west of Eureka, Utah.  I was but a young lad, but I remember that it was a lot of fun playing softball in a meadow peppered with sage brush and cactus.  Yes, the emphasis of Easter in our house was candy and colored eggs, but my Mom did teach me that God lives, that He is my Father and that His Son is my Savior.  Mom and Dad had their worldly challenges over the years, but they were good people whom I love very much, and am proud to be counted among their posterity.  The seeds of faith that my parents planted in me, along with a lot of sunshine and living water that I received from others along my path, gave me the ability to give some of that faith back to them when they were preparing to pass into eternity, and, hopefully, make their journey a little easier. 



Mom and me in 1993






Good ol' Pops in 2003

 




Mom and Dad in Japan visiting my brother Mike

 

My parents when they dropped me off at the Missionary Training Center in 1987



These days, though I still enjoy an egg-shaped Reese’s and a Robin Egg or two (bags), I’m pretty clear on what Easter is really about, albeit I know that I will never comprehend in this life what is the breadth, length, depth and height of the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge (Ephesians 3:18-19).  One of my favorite things to read on Easter is the Gospel of John, chapter 20.  In these scriptures, Mary Magdalene has come to the tomb of Jesus early Sunday morning.  The stone had been rolled away, and two angels were sitting on it.  Not knowing what to think, Mary ran to where the Apostles were and told them Jesus’ body was missing.  Peter and John rushed to the tomb.  John refers to himself as “that disciple that Jesus loved”.  I love that.  John had a great knowledge of the Lord’s love for him.  I also loved that they ran to the tomb.  They didn’t just jog, or hurry, they sprinted.  It says, “So they ran both together, and the other disciple did outrun Peter, and came first to the sepulcher.”  John let Peter enter the tomb first, after which John went in, saw, and believed, “for as yet they knew not the scripture, that he must rise again from the dead.”  After Peter and John went home, Mary stayed at the empty tomb and wept.  Christ appeared to her, but she did not recognize Him.  I can see Mary in my mind, her eyes full of tears, her hands over her face, her head bowed in sorrow, maybe even despair, asking the gardener where to find Him.  Upon hearing her name spoken by the Savior in the familiar voice of her friend: 

“Mary,”

Mary cries out, “Master.”  Because the next line spoken is Jesus saying, “Touch me not”, and the more accurate translation is, “Hold me not”, it squeezes my heart to know that Mary’s first impulse was the same as mine will be when he speaks my name. 



From LDS Church site



Happy Easter to all of you who read this post.  Enjoy your family get togethers, your egg hunts, your potato salads.  Enjoy your Easter baskets full of plastic grass and delicious treasures.  I recommend Robin Eggs to all of you whose teeth are sweet.  Along with all the fun, I would be honored if you would join me in singing the words of the sacred hymn:  “Oh sweet, the joy this sentence gives, I know that my Redeemer lives!” (I Know That My Redeemer Lives –LDS Hymn Book, Number 136)

Though it was told long ago, it remains true today

And I also testify, Christ will show the way

Think on him, lean on him, for in the story He dies

It wasn’t for you that Christ came, this is what Satan lies

He wants you to give in to despair, and on the ground to stay

But remember, dear friends, on that glorious Easter Day

Jesus Christ did rise

-John Barney, 2005



From LDS Church site



Thanks for listening…jb

A Thrill of Hope

The painting below is called Journey to Bethlehem by Joseph Brickey.  I first saw it when I was touring the not yet dedicated Temple in Rexburg, Idaho with a friend.  It stopped me in my tracks.  The rest of the group moved on without us while I just breathed in that moment.  I've always loved paintings depicting this pivotal moment in the great plan of our Heavenly Father, and this painting, with its lighting and facial expressions, moved me across the room.  One of these days it will hang in my house.  I've noticed it can be found in several Temples now.  Just a few weeks ago, Emilie and I went through the Provo Temple, and there it was as I came through some parted curtains.  When I stopped to stare, the old guys in there, finding me lost and confused, kept gesturing the way I should go.  They pointed toward the Celestial Room.  A few minutes later, sitting next to Emilie on a soft, white couch, I thought of the Christmas song, O Holy Night.  It's my favorite because of this line:

"Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.  A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn."

Someday I plan to be included in that crowd that will fall on their knees in His holy presence, and hear the angels singing about my love for Him.  I was going to write 'I hope to be included...', but 'plan to be included' seemed closer to the actual application of the scriptural use of the word hope. 

4.  Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with ^asurety ^bhope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which ^chope cometh of ^dfaith, maketh an ^eanchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in ^fgood works, being led to ^gglorify God.  (Book of Mormon, Ether 12: 4, copied and pasted from http://www.lds.org/)

Thanks for listening -JB