For Such a Time as This
Certain life events are remembered as turning points. The 1984 Summer Olympic Games in L.A. was for
me a defining moment. That summer my young
self relinquished forever the goal of becoming an astronaut. Instead, I was going to be Mary Lou
Retton. I would fly—over and around
uneven bars and across the floor in a sequence of handsprings. For the next year, I clipped her photos from Dad’s
Sports Illustrated, saved every box
of Wheaties with her picture on the front, and vaulted off the couch,
confidently finishing with my arms in the air.
I wore out the beloved VHS ‘
16 Days
of Glory’, the Bud Greenspan documentary on the 1984 Olympic Games. My mother gave in to gymnastic lessons, and I
experienced for the first time the thrill of flying on a tra
mpoline—
exactly like Mary Lou almost. I could leap, land on any angle, and soar
back to my feet. Gravity and I played
together.
I was eager to show this new talent to my mother back at
home. With her full attention (and very little
forethought on my part), I leapt into the air, landed with a practiced grace on
my back side…and did not bounce back up from the living room floor. Stunned and sore, my mind tried to make sense
of what had happened. The trampoline had
given me a taste of flight, but the floor replaced every trace of it with a cold,
hard reality. I was never going to be
Mary Lou.
There Are Laws and a
Plan
The floor is hard.
Perhaps we don’t always expect it.
But whether we remember them or not, we can’t bend laws of physics. Without nylon mesh and coiled springs, the
carpeted floor can never behave like a trampoline. It seems obvious—now. Hind site is 20/20.
Beyond the lesson in physics learned that day and in multiple
occasions since, I believe in other laws.
I know there is a God, who created our world, and that we are his
children. I know He has a plan for his
children that allows them to progress, learn, grow, and ultimately become like
him—a Father who himself said that his work is to bring about the eternal life
of his children (Moses 1:39). There is
absolute truth. And our decisions
matter.
There Are Inherent
Risks to Mortality and We Don’t Know Everything
Gravity (appreciated or not), life’s challenges, self-agency,
and personal imperfections in our mortal state are reality, and as such we are
subject to fall. Even with our best
intentions in our worthwhile, righteous endeavors, we have no guarantee of a
smooth sailing. And the scriptures guarantee to us we won’t. The apostle Peter, with his characteristic
zeal, musters up the faith to climb over the side of the boat and walk across
the water to the Savior—and begins to sink. Abinadi bears his powerful, final testimony to
King Noah’s court prior to his execution, with no apparent evidence that his sacrifice
has or will have any effect. The modern-day prophet Joseph Smith, despite
obedience to the Lord and full commitment to the work, was betrayed and falsely
accused. He finds himself in the Liberty
jail where his words disclose heartbreaking loneliness and onset of despair, “O
God, where art thou? And where is the
pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?” (D&C121:1) With incomplete understanding, these men
acted to the best of their knowledge.
And, at least by initial estimation if focusing on that frame in the
lives’ sequences, appeared to fail.
We Are Here to Act
Such experiences are a vital part of why we are here in
mortality, and key to the overarching plan our Heavenly Father created for our progression. We are set in the present—which is all we can
see with our physical eyes. The past begins
to dim from memory, and the future is unseen and uncertain. It is the perfect atmosphere that allows
learning by experience, and ultimately facilitates our growth.
Because of the gospel, we have a clear but still incomplete
picture. We ‘see through a glass darkly’
(1 Cor. 13:12), looking forward to the day when ‘all mysterious shall be bright
at last’ (Be Still My Soul).
But for now, we are equipped with imperfect knowledge and
limited understanding, and yet with the requirement to act—even when we know
our lack of knowledge may result in errors.
For me, a desire to do what’s right coupled with no guarantee of
outcomes can be intimidating. Experiences
have taught me that I am subject to fall—hard.
And like the sudden, unrelenting floor, these experiences aren’t
anticipated.
Despite a working [incomplete] knowledge of things hoped
for, there are things I really do know. I
know God exists and is our Heavenly Father, who loves his children and hears
their prayers. I have a testimony of the
Savior, and the Plan of Salvation. These
simple truths and others awe me with their significance, and give me the faith
to act on gospel principles. And this in turn brings me joy and helps me
come to know the Savior. And the more I know
Him, the more I want to be like Him.
And He invites us to do so.
Its remarkable how many of His words throughout the scriptures are
invitations: come follow me, come and see, come unto me, come ye that are heavy
laden and I will give you rest. He
invites us to follow Him, learn from His example, and become like Him that we
might feel the joy He feels.
Can I Trust Him?
Exercising faith on my mission was easy: I had a letter from a prophet that told me I
was called of God. I was entitled to His
help. With this knowledge came a boldness
that previously hadn’t existed, because I knew that by obeying the Spirit,
divine help was mine, and whatever the outcome was, it was OK.
The Lord undoubtedly loves and generously helps his
missionaries. But what about a college
student? A resident physician? Will He help those who’ve taken the initiative
themselves in education, relationships, or career decisions? That power that so long has blessed me—will
it still lead me on?
I’ve always been impressed by the brother of Jared. When confronted with a challenge (crossing in
the ocean in barges with no outside light), he comes up with a solution (rocks
that will glow). He approaches the Lord
in faith that if He touches the stones, they will light. As I face my own challenges, I create my own
solutions, and then approach the Lord—hoping that He will touch my plans and
they will illuminate. Sometimes they do. When they don’t, there’s a moment of
uncertainty (occassionally some panic), as I search for that faith that if my
plan fails, He will somehow provide another solution. And during those moments, it’s the memory of times
when the stones lighted that carries me through.
Success Through
‘Failure’
But there is still always that moment after taking action
when the outcome is entirely uncertain, or even appears to be heading in an
unfavorable direction. I still occasionally find myself asking, ‘Can I really
trust Him in this thing, right now?’ When our plans—which we thought were given
a divine ‘go-ahead’—don’t pan out? When
our goals—righteous goals we’ve looked forward to—don’t happen and we are left
to contemplate a different life than what we wanted (ie, a family of eight sparkling
children; a career as an artist; and achieving perfection as a homemaker. At least my brownies are almost there.)? When what we are prompted by the Lord in our
mind and heart to do goes against our personality or nature? When we start to walk on the water, feel
ourselves sink, and don’t see Him immediately?
With full realization of our inadequacies, can we still muster the faith
to endure and hopefully succeed?
During a
challenging ‘learning experience’, a verse of scripture given less attention
before, caught me off guard. Words by
the Savior: “Be ye therefore perfect”.
Perhaps it was the timing, but my heart sank and my eyes filled with tears
as I thought, “But I’m not. And so far
from it!”
To me at the
time, a ‘lack of perfection’ was failure. Thankfully, the Lord is not as
harsh. What He wants is
progression. He doesn’t expect from us
that we make no mistakes, become such valuable points in our education. But as His name ‘I Am’ is in the present
tense, He asks that our progress be ongoing and active:
“For the
natural man is an enemy to God, and has been since the fall of Adam, and will be
forever and ever unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit,
and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the
atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a child, submissive, meek,
humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord
seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.”
(Mosiah 3:19)
He wants us
to become.
Making progress then is success. We can trust that if we are honestly doing
what’s best and seeking for direction (from Him that ‘upbraideth not’), the
immediate outcome is not evidence of our success or failure. As such, we can trust that apparently failed
outcome will become successes in a subsequent chapter.
What I Know
I know, as did Mordecai who counseled Esther, that our
potential and purpose is signicant, regardless of how it appears…if we choose
faith: “For if thou holdest thy peace at this time, then shall enlargement and
deliverance arise; and who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for
such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14).
I know that fear (especially fear of failure) is not what he
intends for us: “God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of
love and of a sound mind” (1 Tim 1:7).
I know that what we see as imperfection is not a sentence
but an invitation: “If men come unto me, I will show unto them their
weakness. I give unto men weaknesses
that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble
themselves before me; for it they humble themselves before me, and have faith
in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.” (Ether 12:27).
I know and am forever grateful that because of the
Atonement:
·
We can ‘fail’ without being failures
·
Our education is paid for
·
He can ultimately change our hearts and enable
us to be who we were meant to be, and who we want to be
·
And that by his grace that we are saved after
all we can do (2 Nephi 25:23).
I know in Whom I can trust, and in Whom I’ve trusted—in
whose name I add my testimony, even Jesus Christ, amen.
