Spiritual Sudoku

I recently worked my first Sudoku puzzle. If you’re not familiar, Sudoku puzzles have nine rows of nine digits each, organized into nine 3 x 3 squares. Each digit from 1-9 appears in each row, each column and each 3x3 square only once. The puzzle gives you a certain number of “known” digits to start, and you fill in the rest, using the given digits and subsequent “found” digits to determine placement of the remaining digits until the puzzle is complete.

(For a simple puzzle or two, you can go to lots of websites, including here.)

My first puzzle was very painful. It took me lots of trial and error to finally arrive at the correct solution. After some time, however, I’ve learned to look at the puzzles somewhat differently. I’m getting better at seeing the relationship of rows and columns and squares, and looking at all three simultaneously to discover which digit is missing from a particular sequence.

Of course the first puzzles are easier to solve. They have more digits given at the outset, so it’s a little easier to figure out what digits are missing and where they should fit. The harder puzzles have fewer digits, require closer observation and reasoning. Some of the puzzles I’ve done by making an educated guess and trying out a theory to see if it works, and when it fails I’ve had to unravel what I’ve done and try again.

Just like life.

In the early days of my testimony, I was concentrated on one row or one column, finding digits to fill in gaps and feeling pretty good about my progress. As I’ve matured spiritually and intellectually, I’ve come to see nuances I did not notice before. I don’t fault others for my lack of nuance. It wasn’t that I wasn’t taught about four first vision accounts, but that I first had to wrestle with the concept of the first vision before I could worry about different accounts. It wasn’t a question of peep stones in a hat versus “reading” the plates, but first the whole idea of divine “translation” regardless of the method.

As I have grown up in my spiritual understanding, I’ve also gotten a different sense over time about the relative importance of details compared with story arcs. When I concentrated on just one line or column, getting the right digit was easy, but it was also more important. When I’m looking at the whole puzzle, it’s more like fitting a piece of the jigsaw puzzle. Yes, the detail (the digit) is important, but what really matters is how the whole puzzle looks, not just one row or column. In my testimony, a particular fact or detail is still important, but as a part of a whole.

As a result, I can view a volume of scripture like the Book of Mormon in a variety of ways. First and foremost it is what it says it is: a testimony of Jesus Christ. (Even before we printed that on the cover it was clear from the title page and from most of 1 Nephi that’s what it was.) It’s no surprise to me that the record begins with a spiritual account rather than a historical one. (Never mind what Mormon’s plates did; I can only examine what I have in the final product.) The spiritual witness trumps the historicity of the book. (I don’t doubt the historicity, by the way; I do not read the book as totally allegorical, but I also am less concerned with examing finer points of geography and history and comparing them to the archeological record.)

Another thing that is true for me about the Sudoku puzzles is that I can look at the same collection of digits and see different things at different times. In one review, I can’t figure out how to put the digits together, and the next time I work my way through the puzzle I suddenly see something I hadn’t before, and the next part of the solution appears. That’s true for my testimony, as well.

I’ve had significant moments in my development of testimony where items I’ve held on the shelf for years have suddenly found resolution. Sometimes it’s because of new information that I learn, or a new way of looking at old information. Other times it’s simply (like it’s really simple!) a spiritual confirmation that I had previously lacked. For me it often comes when I am not looking for it, but always when I am looking. That is, often long-awaited answers come in the normal course of my spiritual development, while I’m on the path, trying to move closer to my Father in Heaven. I don’t remember their ever coming when I’ve been defiant or angry or out to prove someone wrong.

I’ve written before that I’m on a faith journey, and it is far from over. I am not one of those who will lightly say that all is well. As good as things are (and many, many things in my spiritual life are very good), all is not well. I have plenty of concerns for myself and for people I love. I still have plenty of unanswered questions. Some, I suspect, will not be answered until I get to attend Advance Gospel Principles in the next life. Some will undoubtedly be resolved in my normal course of study and prayer. But the presence of questions does not prevent my moving forward along my path, mostly because I remember the tender mercies of the past; I remember answers I have received, some dramatic and some not so much, but answers all the same.

Testimony and Faith Journeys

As I think about my membership in the LDS church (nearly 37 years now), I realize that I have been on quite a path. Although there are times when I have felt completely secure in my relationship with God and in my trust in my church, I also realize that there are times when I have felt far more vulnerable than I would have liked.


I reflect on this subject this week because of the NYT article making the rounds.  I should point out that there are some excellent responses to this article, including this one at BCC  and this one at BYU Studies.

What occurred to me, however, is that just like Brother Mattsson, featured in the NTY article, each of us is on a faith journey. (The idea isn’t completely my own. I was spurred to this thought by this article written by a friend some time ago and shared with me this week.)

In some ways it is appropriate that I ponder my faith journey during the same week we celebrate a journey of another sort by Mormon pioneers who made their way to the Intermountain West where they could (for a time at least) be free of the persecution they had known in Kirtland, Missouri and Nauvoo. The pioneers, of course, traveled a path of physical, emotional and (I imagine, at least) spiritual hardship, as they physically tested their commitment to the gospel and the prophet Brigham. Their sacrifice was tangible and in many cases terrible, leaving possessions, family members either behind or along the way. Families were separated by circumstance, by service in the Mormon Battalion and in some cases by death.

I am a convert to the church; although I have American pioneers in my heritage, I do not have Mormon pioneers. My pioneer ancestors went to the Pacific Northwest primarily for economic reasons, and while they worked hard to go, they did not suffer the persecution of the Mormon pioneers. My wife’s ancestors, on the other hand, included Mormon pioneers, some of whom suffered greatly in their journey. My wife reflected early in our marriage that she did not think she could have endured the trials of her Mormon pioneer ancestors.

Harold B. Lee is often quoted as saying that in our day we will likely face different tests of our faith from those of the pioneers. While they faced physical challenges, we will face challenges of sophistication. In addition to challenges of sophistication (and some may include the issues highlighted in the NYT article in that mix), I think we have other trials of our faith that may well be common to other generations. That has certainly been my experience.

My challenges of sophistication – that is a scholarly set of questions that I had not encountered in seminary and Sunday School – came early in my career at BYU, when I had a roommate who invited me to address a series of questions he’d learned from his father who was in the process of leaving the church. That experience was critical in my development of a stronger testimony of the gospel. During that year I learned how I could approach questions of our history (and I enjoyed the resources of BYU’s library and one particularly helpful faculty member to do it; I don’t know how I could have done that far from BYU in the pre-internet age). And I had a number of other spiritual experiences unrelated to those questions that reinforced the testimony I brought with me to BYU. That combination helped me through a period that could otherwise have significantly challenged my faith. I learned not only answers to many questions, but also HOW to answer questions in the future (and how to wait when answers were not immediately available).

But those are not the only challenges to my faith. Part of my faith journey includes other trials of faith that come up in everyone’s life: sought-after blessings that may have been slow to appear, children who chose different paths and so on. Life is simply not easy. When what we perceive to be righteous desires are slow to be realized, it can challenge us – at least it has challenged me. Knowing that no success can compensate for failure in the home gives me pause when I know that my home is not perfect. Learning to pray to understand God’s will rather than to present Him a list of my wishes is a lesson that took me decades to learn. In these trials, I suppose perhaps I have kinship with those Mormon pioneers who may not have consciously signed up for the journey they ultimately took.

I think about testimony meetings, where we’re invited to share briefly what we know or believe and how we’ve come to know it. Of course those testimonies are often point-in-time snapshots along our life’s journey of faith, a journey that is often complex and even uncertain. As for me, I am now experiencing mine one day at a time, grateful for where I am today.

Thoughts on Thomas and being present

I attended a performance of Rob Gardner’s The Lamb of God performed by the Michigan Concert Choir over the weekend. While I don’t intend to give a review of the performance, let me say I was really glad I went. Such a production is a significant undertaking; it’s technically difficult and it’s large in scope. The Michigan Concert Choir is an all-volunteer choir that includes many members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but also quite a few non-members, as well.

The oratorio depicts key events from the last week of the Savior’s life and His teachings after the resurrection. I had a number of realizations during the performance, and one of them was about Thomas.

We know that Thomas was a faithful apostle. When news came of Larazus’ death and the Savior’s plan to visit, some of the apostles were concerned for their safety: “Master, the Jews of late sought to stone thee; and goest thou thither again?” (John 11:8)

But it was Thomas who said “unto his fellowdisciples, Let us also go, that we may die with him” (v. 16).

Of course it is this same faithful Thomas who was not present when the resurrected Savior appeared to the apostles. They testified that they had seen him, “But he said unto them, Except I shall shee in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe” (20:25).

I have always attributed to Thomas a lack of faith. It was not much different from his fellow disciples’ lack of faith, however; they were still shut up in secret even after Mary Magdalene’s testimony of the Risen Lord.

As I listened to Gardner’s words in The Lamb of God, I had a different thought. Thomas sings,

You’ve seen the Lord?
You’ve seen Him risen?
You’ve seen His hands and touched His side,
And you are certain?
But I’ve not seen Him.
And I must see Him.
Until I’ve seen His wounded side,
Until my hands have felt His hands,
I will not know, nor yet believe…

As I heard these words, I heard his regret that he was not there. We don’t know why Thomas was absent. It’s likely that it was for a very good reason he was not with the others when the Savior came; they did not know He would come. But Thomas was not there. He missed the meeting.

I thought about the Nephites who were a generation away from King Benjamin’s address. Because they were not there, they did not believe in the same way as those who were there.

I thought about meetings I have attended through the years that others did not attend, meetings that were particularly meaningful and useful to me, but whose message I could scarcely communicate to someone who was not there. And I found myself wondering about meetings I missed, usually with a very good reason, wondering what thing I did not learn because I was not there.

I thought about the effort that adult leaders of youth make to invite the spirit into so many different kinds of activities in hopes that our youth will be present – physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually – so that they will see and feel and know and believe.

May we be present.


BTW, you can read my latest post, "The Unequal Burden of Women" at Real Intent here.

On the faithless Laman and Lemuel

I remember when I taught gospel doctrine in my freshman year at BYU, I had a team teacher who used to say she thought old Laman and Lemuel got a bad rap. She imagined from time to time that it might not have been easy to have Nephi as a brother. And it was his record we were reading, after all.

I used to roll my eyes when she’d say these things as we prepared our lessons. And I’d hope she wouldn’t say them while we were teaching.

So it surprised me a little this past week in Sunday School as I felt a twinge of sadness for Laman and Lemuel. Our discussion was around their lack of faith, like that was their Chief Character Flaw. I’m not sure anyone meant the discussion to sound as it did, but from where I sat it sounded like “if they just had more faith, they would have been more like Nephi and less like, well, you know.” Less like themselves.

I don’t mean to defend Laman and Lemuel. They had their agency just as Nephi did. But as the parent of seven kids, I can tell you the notion that Laman and Lemuel and Nephi and Sam all had the same parents plays differently in my head. I know that I parented my first few kids very differently from how I’ve parented the last ones. My first kids taught me valuable lessons as a father, and my younger kids are the beneficiaries of those lessons. My father was the same way. I –- the youngest in my family -- benefited greatly from the sometimes challenging relationship that my older brother had with my dad. (I should point out that my older brother and my dad are both great men, and that they love one another completely. But my brother was my dad’s first teenager. Any of you who have had a first teenager understand. Those who haven’t, just wait.)

Laman and Lemuel were older when they left Jerusalem. They may have had a better –- or at least different -- understanding of what they were leaving behind than young Nephi. At least some of Nephi’s formative spiritual experiences came as his family traveled in the wilderness, when he was at an age that those experiences could shape him. His brothers did not have those experiences at that age. And so their experience was not the same as Nephi’s.

I don’t seek to absolve Laman and Lemuel from their poor choices. Of course one can go to the Lord in prayer at any age and learn His will. But consider how many general authorities talk freely about really coming to their testimonies while serving on a mission. Is there something about that experience at that time of life that affords a certain set of experiences? I think my own experience would suggest that there is. A young man who does not serve a mission will not have the same experiences. He can still gain a testimony and strengthen it, but it will not be the same experience. Similarly, it may be that Nephi’s older brothers did not have the same experiences as Nephi at least in part because of their age.

I don’t know about Lehi’s family, but I know that my younger children were born into a far more prosperous family than my oldest ones. My oldest three came while we were still in school. They had a dad who was preoccupied with school and working and all the stress that comes with poverty-line living. And then they lost their dad to establishing his career. My youngest children have had a completely different experience. (My younger children might point out that their parents are a lot older than their older siblings' parents, so the differences cut both ways.)

Nephi is right when he asks his brothers if they have sought the Lord’s help in understanding their father’s dream. We all can go to God for help and understanding. But there are lots of reasons Laman and Lemuel might not make that choice, might not have the faith, to seek divine assistance.

It is convenient to put black hats on Laman and Lemuel and white hats on Nephi and Sam and to simplify the good-guy / bad-guy myth of the Book of Mormon. But the record itself reminds us that even that story is nuanced: Sariah loved all her sons; Laman and Lemuel did follow their father into the wilderness; even Nephi examined his own personal flaws, recognizing that he was not perfect; and some generations of Lamanites were more righteous than their Nephite brethren.

We benefit, I believe, by remembering – particularly as we apply the Book of Mormon to ourselves – that the story is not a simple one, just as our lives are not simple.

Relying on grace, like Peter

A thought occurred to me on Sunday.

I was considering Peter (one of my very favorite characters in the scriptures). In Matthew we read about his attempt to walk on the water:

And Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.

And he said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus.

But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me. (Matthew 14:28-30)

I have always read this story as a failure of Peter’s faith (and the Lord in the next verse, after he saves Peter, makes that observation: “O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?”).

But here is my thought:

Peter did have faith. He had faith to climb out of that boat. He had faith to walk on the water. He had faith to follow the Savior (even when he didn’t understand, which was often).

But Peter also had weakness. He faltered on the water. Perhaps he was distracted. Perhaps he doubted. Perhaps he did not have enough faith to continue walking.

And when he faltered, he called out for the Lord to save him. And Jesus did save him. The Savior’s grace saved him.

When I falter, when I lack faith, when I am in a moment of my weakness, I hope I will have the faith of Peter and rely on the grace of the Lord to lift me out of my stormy sea.

Faith, Dinosaur Bones and Cavemen

When I went to my high priests’ group a few weeks ago to discuss Elder Hales’ talk on Agency and Bishop Edgely’s talk on Faith (both from the October 2010 conference), I did not expect we’d also be talking about dinosaurs and cavemen.

I love my high priests’ group. I have lots of friends there who truly are my brothers. We laugh together, we help each other, we mourn together and comfort one another. Our gospel discussions tend to stay in the middle of the road; it’s a “stick to the manual” group for sure.

So this week, our instructor (who really does a great job with the Teaching For Our Times lessons -- he prepares carefully, asks thought provoking questions, and leads good discussions), wandered into a discussion of dinosaurs and cavemen and their relationship to gospel teaching. His point was delivered by a bishop of his years ago: This is something you don’t need to worry about as it’s not essential to your salvation.

Then I stuck my foot in it. I commented that my fourteen year old son was wrestling with the perceived battle between religion and science and that we talked about it often. It was not something he was willing to put on the shelf or stop worrying about. I had hoped to hear helpful suggestions and ideas about how to teach faith to a teenager, and I did get some of that. But I also heard:

1. Various theories of how dinosaur bones came to the earth (including cosmic dump trucks bringing in material from other worlds and that Adam may have been an alien)

2. That Science was written in today’s world by atheists specifically to exclude God, and if one carefully reviewed the facts, he would see that the scientists are manipulating data to their own ends

Fascinating (and just a little disturbing). What I realized is that we come to these questions with our own level of knowledge and our own experience. No one in my group meeting that day is a scientist; most are folks with business or engingeering degrees, though one is a medical technician and another a social worker. I was, therefore, not terribly surprised that we didn’t have any serious students of geology or biology or zoology among us (at least none who were willing to speak up). And most are around 50 years old or more, like me, so unless they’ve made a specific effort, their impression of church teachings is likely based on 30+-year old seminary lessons.

One group member suggested (as he always does; his faith is rock-solid, and well protected by his particular approach) that we need to teach our kids to remember what they know when they find questions they can’t answer right away.

I agree with that idea. But I also agree that there’s value in understanding what my church teaches and what the scriptures teach. (I’ve mentioned to my son half-jokingly that if he’s going to leave the church, he ought to be sure he’s leaving the right one, and not leave his church because he disagrees with what some other church teaches.)

We also came around to the idea that there are many in the church who have carefully studied the science and continue to be faithful latter-day saints. There’s value in learning how they’ve done it.

In the end, not every issue is important to every person. And what’s important to me now is different from what was important when I was younger. But the things that are important are important. It’s ok to ask questions, and to seek answers. And, as my friend said, it’s good to remember what we already know in the face of what we don’t.

"I do not know the meaning of all things."

So said Nephi to the spirit during his vision of the Tree of Life (and more; see 1 Nephi 11). I’ve never been asked anything in a vision, but I certainly could regularly say, “I do not know the meaning of all things.” And I must confess, I’m a little leery of those who seem to (know the meaning of all things, I mean).

I appreciate the humility inherent in Nephi’s statement. I mean, here he’s having a vision, conversing with “the spirit of the Lord”, and it’s not just a run of the mill vision, but it’s about to be one of those broadly scoped visions of epic proportions. It’s pretty easy to imagine that Nephi post-vision was more confident in what he knew than pre-vision, anyway.

I think about times that I have behaved as if I knew more than I did. I suspect there were times on my mission that I was that way. And I don’t mean saying “I know” when I really believed, but I mean falsely believing I had a greater grasp of scripture and culture and language than I did – believing I was more capable than a companion, or capable (on my own) to convince an investigator.

There have been times as a dad when I have assumed I knew more than my kids and didn’t. I regularly demonstrate that I have forgotten much of what I learned in grades 5-9 when approached by my children of those ages through the years. I had a 14-year old son who loved to argue with me and would regularly challenge me to bet him something was true. I always lost. Always. Clearly, I did not know the meaning of all things. (Now, with my present 14-year old, I do not bet. I have come to understand myself far better, at least.)

As I’ve taught seminary and institute sporadically over the years I’ve encouraged my students to ask questions – any questions they may have. And I’ve freely admitted to them that I do not know the meaning of all things. But I’ve invited them to join me on a journey of discovery to find answers if we can. Sometimes they were easy to find, and sometimes we didn’t find the answers we looked for. But hopefully those students will continue on their quest for understanding and meaning.

I do not find weakness in Nephi’s statement, particularly given that he says it to the spirit of the Lord, who probably knew the answer before Nephi said it. Nephi had already demonstrated desire and faith (he called on the Lord for understanding, and he admitted to the spirit that he did believe all that his father had taught). If he knew the meaning of all things, it would hardly have been necessary to seek more.

I further have appreciated when church leaders or teachers I’ve known locally have admitted that they don’t instantly have an answer to a question I pose, but that they will research it and come back to me. There is comfort to me in knowing that these faithful and righteous servants also recognize their limitations. And it’s ok not to know everything.

Similarly, it’s ok for me not to have every private question I carry to the Lord in prayer be resolved instantly. Part of the test of faithfulness is (for me) learning to walk quietly in the darkness, trusting that more will be revealed as I need it. I am ok knitting together a hypothesis when I do not understand. I can say to myself, “I have experienced that X is true. Y is related to X and I don’t fully understand Y, but for now, since I accept X as true, I can also live with Y. I believe in time, the significance of Y will also be revealed.”

"I don't believe in God."

We were not surprised to hear him say it, but hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. When our son delivered this message, my wife listened calmly and said little. In a follow-up conversation he allowed as how he’s not done thinking about it, yet, and he hasn’t made any final decisions. He is, after all, only 14.

But his best school friend is, like him, a bright scientific thinker, heavily influenced by the popular science minds today. And the friend is also somewhat confused by his family’s church’s teachings about some things.

As we’ve had follow up conversations, here are some things we’ve said:

1. No one can make you believe. In the end, you have to choose for yourself, and live with your choices.

2. At 14, you might not know everything you will learn in your life; there may be still more understanding to come that will influence what you believe.

3. Just as there are a lot of smart people you admire who do not believe, there are also a lot of smart people who do. Think about why people who believe do, and see if there’s anything in there for you.

4. Don’t give up on the wrong God. Just because your protestant friend’s view of the scriptures is hard for you to understand, listen to what your church teaches, and ask God for help. He can answer your prayers.

The good news is that he’s come to this crossroads while he’s still at home with people who love him. And he’s willing to leave the book open for a while. And he’s still talking about how he feels. And his friendships at church are still very important to him.

The Power of Testimony

In our recent stake conference, Elder Ringwood of the Seventy spoke about testimony. He suggested that for most of us in the church, the reason we do what we do is our testimony – we attend meetings, we home teach, we give service because of our testimony. I found that interesting because we teach that faith is the motivating principle that moves us to action. And therein I find a relationship between testimony and faith.

In that regard, it matters less, I think, if a person says he knows or believes than what his faith or his testimony moves him to do.

Elder Ringwood asked why we were in the leadership meeting we were attending. His answer: our testimonies drove us to be there. Why do we share the gospel? Our testimony drives us to do it. Why do we attend the temple? The power of our testimony moves us there.

There is a bit of circular logic (and he freely admitted that). Our testimony drives us to pay tithing, and paying tithing increases our testimony of doing it. And that pattern repeats itself in many ways in our church lives, whether with family prayer or personal scripture study or repentance.

It's what I call the overflowing principle. Imagine that you are a bowl. The spirit is the water in a pitcher. As one pours water from the pitcher into the bowl, eventually the water will overflow the sides of the bowl and spill out. The best member missionaries are those who simply can't help it – it just overflows out of them. The happiest members of the church I know are those whose water simply overflows.

Those of us who feel like we’re always scraping the bottom of the bowl for a few more drops of water are likely to feel less fulfilled by "doing our duty." And so we need – for our own survival and comfort – to find ways to fill our bowls.

But when we have those days when our bowls are full and overflowing, it can be astonishing what we can do because we are driven by our faith and testimony.

The Promise

In our family scripture reading we finally got to the end of the Book of Mormon (this time it took us about 15 months). As we read Moroni's promise, we talked about all the steps Moroni wants us to take in order to gain a witness of that great book. It's not the simple, "If you were lucky enough to get this book, ask God if it's true and He'll tell you through the Holy Ghost." Here are the key verses:

Behold, I would exhort you that when ye shall read these things, if it be wisdom in God that ye should read them, that ye would remember how merciful the Lord hath been unto the children of men, from the creation of Adam even down until the time that ye shall receive these things, and ponder it in your hearts. And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things (Moroni 10:3-5).

So first, of course, we must read.

And we must remember God's mercy through the ages, from the creation to now. That presupposes that we have some knowledge of God's mercy during that time. We must become acquainted with that mercy (some of which we get from reading the Book of Mormon, of course).

We need to ponder that mercy in connection with our reading of the Book of Mormon. To me this means that I must ask myself how the Book of Mormon is a continuing sign of God's mercy. How does it demonstrate His mercy to me?

Then when we receive these things (the book, an understanding of the mercy?), THEN we ask God in the name of Christ if these things are not true. I was always bugged by that wording as a missionary. Why should I have people ask if it's NOT true? I wonder sometimes if this makes that particular question more of an offhanded one: go ahead and ask if it isn't true, as if that isn't even a possibility.

Ask with a sincere heart. I can only judge that in myself, but a clue of my sincerity comes in the next phrase: with real intent. What do I intend to do with the knowledge I'm about to receive? If I intend to change my life because of it, then it seems I'm sincere. If I have no intention to change, then how real is my intent?

I must have faith in Christ. Faith is, of course, a motivating force in our lives, encouraging us to act according to the object of our faith. In this case, that faith is to be in Jesus Christ – as testified by the Book of Mormon, I assume. With that faith I would look forward to, among other things, the answer that the Book of Mormon IS true.

If I meet all those conditions, then the Holy Ghost will bear witness to me.

In subsequent verses we're taught to deny not the power of God, the revelatory power of the Holy Ghost and the gifts of the spirit which manifest themselves differently to different people. To me, Moroni says: Do not deny that an answer is possible. Have faith that one is possible. It will come.

It has for me.

Iron Rod Saints & Liahona Saints

In 1967 (the year I was baptized), Richard D. Poll delivered a sermon in the Palo Alto ward in which he coined the terms Iron Rod Saint and Liahona Saint. The sermon was reprinted in Dialogue and the Saints' Herald, and was also later published in the essay anthology A Thoughtful Faith (1986, Philip Barlow, ed.). What follows is second of a few entries on the iron rod, the liahona, and impressions about Brother Poll's essay.

In Brother Poll's sermon, he coins the terms Iron Rod Saints and Liahona Saints. His words:

The Iron Rod was the Word of God. To the person with his hand on the rod, each step of the journey to the tree of life was plainly defined; he had only to hold on as he moved forward. In Lehi's dream the way was not easy, but it was clear.

The Liahona, in contrast, was a compass. It pointed to the destination but did not fully mark the path; indeed, the clarity of its directions varied with the circumstances of the user. For Lehi's family the sacred instrument was a reminder of their temporal and eternal goals, but it was no infallible delineator of their course….

The Iron Rod Saint does not look for questions but for answers, and in the gospel – as he understands it – he finds or is confident that he can find the answer to every important question. The Liahona Saint, on the other hand, is preoccupied with questions and skeptical of answers; he finds in the gospel – as he understands it – answers to enough important questions so that he can function purposefully without answers to the rest ("What the Church Means to People Like Me," Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 2 (Winter 1967): 107-17).

Brother Poll's sermon / article then does quite a wonderful job of describing two types of faithful Latter-day Saints. He self-identifies with the second, and speaks of the blessings the church has to offer someone like him.

I first encountered his essay reprinted in A Thoughtful Faith. It's the first essay in a collection which touches on the growth of testimony beyond simple knowledge to sophisticated faith. (Simple and sophisticated are my words, not those of the essayists. I recognize that both are somewhat charged words, but I use them here with positive intent: while it is true that a simple testimony may be for some sufficient to sustain faith, life in a complicated world requires for some a more sophisticated approach. Poll's essay makes clear that there is room for both in the church.)

Brother Poll paints two types of saints as quoted above. In a subsequent entry, I'll discuss his terms. But here I'll simply state that I don't believe it is a binary state – one may not be either Iron Rod or Liahona. I find myself identifying with both, and at different times in my life I have felt closer to and found more comfort in one position or the other. (I should note that my observation is hardly earth-shattering; Poll himself discusses the matter in his follow-up essay, cited below.)

I acknowledge that Brother Poll gave voice to a circumstance that is not unique and is, in fact, quite compelling. He presented a follow-up essay in 1982 by which time over 1,500 reprints of his original Dialogue article had "found their way into circulation…. The sermon has been reprinted in Sunstone and its argument figures porimnently in the conclusion of Arrington and Bitton's The Mormon Experience" ("Liahona and Iron Rod Revisited," Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought, June 1983, p. 70).

Note -- I've included links to the Dialogue articles, but please check out Dialogue's website here.

Next: Iron Rod and Liahona as Symbols of Saints

The Iron Rod and the Liahona

In 1967 (the year I was baptized), Richard D. Poll delivered a sermon in the Palo Alto ward in which he coined the terms Iron Rod Saint and Liahona Saint. The sermon was reprinted in Dialogue and the Saints' Herald, and was also later published in the essay anthology A Thoughtful Faith (1986, Philip Barlow, ed.). What follows is one of a few entries on the iron rod, the liahona, and impressions about Brother Poll's essay.

In this month's general conference, I heard two references to the iron rod. I don't know if it was mentioned more than usual, but it was enough that I took notice and went back and counted. Sister Wixom and Sister Cook both spoke of it. And there were no references to the liahona that I noticed.

The mention of the iron rod got me thinking enough that we had a family night on the two this week. We know the iron rod comes from Lehi's vision of the Tree of Life. It is a means of conveying people safely from their starting point through the mist of darkness and along the river of filty water to the Tree of Life where they may partake of the fruit of the tree – the love of God. Nephi learns that the iron rod is the word of God.

In the dream, despite the physical stability and safety of a rod of iron, some still let go of the rod and wander in the mist of darkness or are tempted away by those in the great and spacious building. The faithful needed to do something in order to take advantage of the iron rod – they needed to take hold and continue holding on. If the iron rod is the word of God, it would suggest that we need to take hold of the word (study it, follow it, live it) and keep holding on (endure to the end).

It is interesting to me, however, that once they arrived at the tree and tasted of the fruit, some still fell away mostly because they had, as Lehi recounts, been led away by those of the world in the great and spacious building. Even when we taste the fruit of the love of God we must be watchful, presumably continuing to study, follow and live the word of God and endure to the end.

The liahona -- a two- spindled compass with changing writing -- is different. (It occurred to me as I taught my family about the liahona this past week that cell phones today also have directional indicators and writing that changes regularly.) The liahona appears under mystical circumstances to lead Lehi's family further on their journey in the wilderness, and it operates by the faith and diligence of those who use it. There is, in my reading, no indication that the behavior that typifies holding onto the rod of iron is any different from the behavior that allows the liahona to work.

For me, the iron rod and the liahona are two separate images that teach similar lessons, namely that our arrival at the blessings of God's love come through following His word.

Next: Iron Rod Saints and Liahona Saints

On obtaining faith

I have written before about my inability to explain why two people can share similar experiences and emerge with different spiritual results -- why one develops faith and another turns away. My recent study of faith doesn't directly answer that question, but it does give some clues for obtaining faith.

Last week I posted an object lesson on faith, one that I used in my lesson to my high priest's group last Sunday. In the course of that lesson preparation, I also reread the Lectures on Faith. I had first read the lectures in the MTC when I was interested in how faith worked. (My poor MTC companion was worried at my "extracurricular" reading at the time, fearing that I had honed in too closely on one topic, but I wasn't worried, and it turned out to be an illuminating time for me.)

The Lectures on Faith used to be included with the Doctrine and Covenants, appearing before the revelations in editions from 1835-1921. They were removed because they are not revelations to the church, and they have not been canonized. There is evidence that Joseph had assistance from other brethren in their preparation. But the 1835 edition of the Doctrine and Covenants included an introductory letter signed by the First Presidency (Joseph Smith, Jr., Oliver Cowdrey, Sidney Rigdon and F.G. Williams) in which the lectures are described "as delivered before a Theological class in this place [Kirtland, Ohio], and in consequence of their embracing the important doctrine of salvation…." (quoted in Lectures on Faith, Publisher's Preface, 1985).

In the third lecture we read of

three things [which] are necessary in order that any rational and intelligent being may exercise faith in God unto life and salvation. First, the idea that he actually exists. Secondly, a correct idea of his character, perfection, and attributes. Thirdly, an actual knowledge that the course of life which he is pursuing is according to his will. For without an acquaintance with these three important facts, the faith of every rational being must be imperfect and unproductive… (Lecture 3:2-5).

It is interesting to me that the lectures teach that we must have knowledge in order to have faith, namely knowledge that the course we are pursuing is consistent with God's will. The Savior teaches in John that it is by living the gospel that we gain that knowledge (John 7:17). Clearly, some iterative process is required.

The sixth lecture includes the famous quotation: "…a religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things never has power sufficient to produce the faith necessary unto life and salvation…" (v. 7). The verse continues:

…from the first existence of man, the faith necessary unto the enjoyment of life and salvation never could be obtained without the sacrifice of all earthly things. It was through this sacrifice, and this only, that God has ordained that men should enjoy eternal life; and it is through the medium of the sacrifice of all earthly things that men do actually know that they are doing the things that are well pleasing in the sight of God.

Verse 8 continues,

It is in vain for persons to fancy to themselves that they are heirs with those, or can be heirs with them, who have offered their all in sacrifice, and by this means obtained faith in God and favor with him so as to obtain eternal life, unless they, in like manner, offer unto him the same sacrifice, and through that offering obtain the knowledge that they are accepted of him.

It would seem, therefore, that the gift of faith cited in Alma 32 is not a gift cheaply given. It is won at a price of great sacrifice – even of all earthly things.

Musings on Faith

I'm teaching the High Priests on Sunday about faith, and so I'm musing a bit.

An object lesson:

If you want light in a room, what do you do? Turn on the light.

Why? Because for years, in fact many times a day, we get light be flipping a wall switch. We learned early in life that flipping that switch made a light come on.

What happens if the light doesn't come on? Do we stop flipping wall switches? No. In fact, usually if the light doesn't come on, we try the switch two or three more times, just to be sure! And then we begin to check the elements of the circuit: we change the light bulb. We check the connection of the wires to the light fixture and the switch. We may even swap out the switch.

But we do not give up flipping the wall switches. Why? Because we have faith in the flipping of the wall switch. That action has worked so well for us in the past we "know" it should work. Of course we do not know it works each time, but we've seen it enough to "know" that it should work.

We may even have studied enough to know how it works. Our knowledge of physics reinforces our own experience and confirms what we "know" to be true: the flipping of a light switch turns on the light.

Our faith in the Savior can be similar. Many of us have already had a variety of experiences that have built our faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. We have read His words, lived his teachings, received priesthood ordinances, given service in His name, and likely felt the spirit somewhere along the way. So we have faith in Him and His teachings.

We may even have learned other historical or scientific evidence that underpins our testimony.

If we encounter a bump in our spiritual road, it might be like flipping that switch and not getting any light. Just as we don't give up on flipping light switches, we also don't give up our faith in the Savior. Instead, we look at our bump in the road and seek understanding. Sometimes it comes quickly and sometimes it doesn't. But if we are wise, we continue to flip those spiritual light switches. We continue to study, to pray, to participate in ordinances, to continue to serve, in short, to exercise our faith. And we check our own spiritual circuitry to be sure our connection is what it should be.

And in His time, we find resolution. It may come in the form of a specific answer. Or it may simply come as peace.

On seeking a testimony

In an ongoing discussion with a young friend, I included a conversation about young Nephi from the Book of Mormon as he sought to understand something his father had taught him. Nephi's father Lehi had a vision of the Tree of Life, an archetypal story which represents God's love and our quest for it, as well as pitfalls along the way. Just after Lehi finishes his account of his vision, Nephi records:

"For it came to pass after I had desired to know the things that my father had seen, and believing that the Lord was able to make them known unto me, as I sat pondering in mine heart I was caught away in the Spirit of the Lord, yea, into an exceedingly high mountain, which I never had before seen, and upon which I never had before set my foot.

"And the Spirit said unto me: Behold, what desirest thou?

"And I said: I desire to behold the things which my father saw.

"And the Spirit said unto me: Believest thou that thy father saw the tree of which he hath spoken?

"And I said: Yea, thou knowest that I believe all the words of my father" (1 Nephi 11:1-5).

My questions to my young friend:

What do you learn from this scripture? Have you ever heard anyone teach something you want to know more about or something that you want to have a testimony of?

What did Nephi do?

- He DESIRED to know the things his father saw
- He BELIEVED the Lord could make them known to him
- He sat PONDERING in his heart
- He TOLD the Lord what he wanted
- He BELIEVED what his father said before he knew they were true

When we seek spiritual confirmation of truth, I think Nephi's experience is instructive.

An Experiment

Alma invites us to experiment upon the word, to plant the seed of faith and see if it grows. It reminds me of the first grade bean experiment in which school children put lima beans in wet paper towels against the glass of a jar. Within a few days, the kids can see their beans sprouting.

I have sometimes wondered why the experiment Alma outlined worked so well for me but apparently not for others. I was fortunate in that I was a little bit like Nephi in that I wanted to know the truth of what my father had taught me. And over the years I looked for evidence to support that truth. And I found it. And many other people do, too.

But some others don't seem to. Someone very close to me, whose testimony of the Book of Mormon gave water and sunshine to my own barely sprouting one, finally parted ways with the church while I stayed strong. Another very close friend and I explored young adult questions of history and doctrine together and ended up on different sides of membership in the church. I am not in a position to know the hearts of these two people who still mean a great deal to me. And I suppose there is a possibility that they are right and I am wrong, though frankly I don't entertain that idea.

I've known quite a few young people who have wrestled with questions of faith and felt their pleas have gone unanswered. One told me once that he decided to try a year of inactivity to see if anything bad would happen. When it didn't, he concluded that church activity was not important. (I suggested that it might take longer to see the final results of that experiment, but his mind was made up, at least at the time.) Another, when I suggested he read the Book of Mormon again and put Moroni's promise to the test, told me he'd already read it; why bother reading it again? (I suggested that although he was very bright, there might be things he missed the first time around.)

Most troubling to me are those who claim they cannot get answers to their prayers. And I wonder (and sometimes ask) how long they have prayed, and for what? What in their view constitutes an answer? I think about Mother Teresa, who served the destitute and sick of India for 45 years who confided in her biography that she had felt separated from God for 50 years. And it causes me to wonder what kind of faith held her where she was despite her spiritual loneliness.

In my own life, times of no-answers (and I never had a 50 year stretch) grew into times of faith. Because sooner or later I came back to memories of things I did know, things I had felt, things I had read that were meaningful, uplifting and strength-giving.

Shortly after Oliver Cowdrey arrived in Harmony and began to work with Joseph Smith, he sought a blessing at Joseph's hand. It would not be unthinkable to imagine that he wanted renewed confirmation that he was on the right path, as he sequestered himself with this young prophet engaged in translating an ancient record. His answer in this blessing (after rather specific and pointed testimony of the truth of the work): "Verily, verily, I say unto you, if you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things. Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?" (D&C 6:22-23).

There is power in remembering our connections to the Divine. They are for me evidence in The Great Experiment of Faith. And I am grateful for them.

Questions on Healing

In the chapters of scripture that catalog spiritual gifts, healing is among them. Paul and Moroni refer to the "gifts of healing" (1 Corinthians 12:9; Moroni 10:11). Section 46 of the Doctrine & Covenants indicates that some have the gift of faith to be healed and others have the gift to heal (vv. 19-20).

Indeed, as a people we Mormons do believe in miracles. Many of us have seen them in our own lives – physical, take-up-thy-bed-and-walk miracles. We seek them, usually through priesthood blessings in which we ask holders of the priesthood to anoint us with consecrated oil and bless us with health. Sometimes (but not always) these blessings result in miraculous healings.

Of course the Savior established the pattern of miraculous healing, often reminding the beneficiaries that their faith had made them whole. And sometimes a person did not need direct contact with the Savior: touching his robe was enough for the woman with the issue of blood. And in the case of the child of the nobleman, the Savior healed him from a distance.

So, we believe in miracles, but we also believe in going to the doctor, taking our medicine, and doing what it takes to get well. We allow for the possibility that God may heal us miraculously, but generally we don't count on it. I wonder why that is.

Recently, I posted the following comment on a discussion of depression and spirituality over at the By Common Consent blog:

"While repentance indeed brings remission of sins, and it may bring spiritual blessings, it is not a cure for mental illness, nor is it a substitute for competent medical care."

The discussion was around depression and there was some discussion about the role of spiritual healing as a part of coping with depression. I intended my comment (and it was received) as gentle rebuke to those who might suggest that one might "repent" his way to good mental health.

I stand by my comment, but I wonder why I was so quick to react to comments that were not actually claiming what I assumed they were. It's true: my own experience is that depression and other mental illness has as much to do with chemistry as anything else, and that a regimen of medication and therapy combined are the best help in such cases.

By why write off the possibility of spiritual intervention?

In my family we've known our share of sickness. My mother lived with a medical condition that I also have that made us both susceptible to serious infection, and in her case the infections were very painful and required the visit of the doctor to our home with a shot of penicillin. (I now travel to my doctor's office for shots of rocephin). I remember my father's wanting to give my mother a blessing at the time of one of her infections. Mom's view was she should do all she could to get well first, and if that failed, then a blessing was in order, while Dad felt it didn't hurt to involve a priesthood blessing early on.

I tend toward my father's view: I prefer to seek a blessing for myself (or offer one in the case of family members) early on, and continue seeking medical assistance. In fact, in some cases the blessing I have given directs the recipient to seek medical attention and to follow doctors' orders.

While I do know some members of the church who prefer vitamin therapies to drugs, or don't get their kids vaccinated, these are individual choices, not driven by doctrinal (or even church cultural) norms. There is ample evidence that the church advocates using competent medial care.

Posted at the same discussion of depression is the following quotation from a CES fireside given by Elder Uchtdorf:

“Allow me to be clear: severe depression and thoughts of suicide are not trivial matters and should be taken seriously. I urge those who suffer from depression or thoughts of suicide to seek help from trusted professionals and Church leaders. If you know someone who is thinking of suicide, be a true friend and make sure he or she gets help. Please know that we love you and want you to be successful and happy in life.”

Similarly, the brethren advocate for medical intervention for physical illness. Those of us who are old enough remember many stories around the medical intervention in the life of President Kimball, sought on the advice and counsel of his brethren in the Quorum of the Twelve.

Sometimes we see the medical and spiritual share the stage, as in Elder Nelson's great account in the April 2003 General Conference of how he was inspired to repair the heart of a faithful patriarch.

What lessons are there for us in this discussion? Here are some thoughts I have. Perhaps your experience will suggest others:

1. Part of our stewardship is to care for our own bodies. We do well to do that through diet and exercise, and through seeking appropriate medical treatment for physical and mental health issues.

2. It is appropriate for us to seek the Lord's blessings, including when we are sick. Those blessings may come to us in the form of help from a doctor or in a more (or less) miraculous way.

Apart from those lessons, I have some personal biases:

First, lack of healing is not necessarily the result of lack of faith. (But does my suggesting it mean I lack faith?) The Lord teaches clearly that He has a timetable for us, and sometimes we have lessons to learn. I remember well the lesson Elder Maxwell learned from his illness at the end of his life. In his biography it records that he received a clear admonition that he had Leukemia so that he might minister more authentically to others who are sick. I can't imagine many who would suggest Elder Maxwell lacked faith.

Second (and this just ought to go without saying), illness, like any other personal hardship, is not necessarily an indicator of personal worthiness. The rain falls on the just and the unjust alike. Many have taught that adversity comes into all our lives in different ways. (Similarly, freedom from illness is not necessarily a sign of righteousness, either.)

That said, where are you on the question of the relationship between reliance on the Lord and reliance on medical science?

Help Thou Mine Unbelief -- the Question of Faith

I remember a Sunday School teacher from my youth who confided that although we probably shouldn't have favorite general authorities, she suspected that at least one reason to have so many is that different leaders speak differently and appeal to us in different ways. She said she did have favorites. And so do I.

One of my favorites had long been Elder Faust. His own self-deprecating stories were as endearing as they were instructive. And he touched specific subjects that seemed to touch my heart at just the right time.

One was a landmark talk to me: Lord, I Believe; Help Thou Mine Unbelief. In it he broaches a subject that at the time was dear to me because of how I was serving in the church at the time, in a capacity to counsel others who seemed to lack faith.

But the talk also spoke to my own sense of inadequacy. The story from which his title comes is from Mark 9. A father brings his son first to Jesus' disciples, then finally to Jesus for healing. Jesus tells the father, "If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth. And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord I believe; help thou mine unbelief" (v. 23-24).

I can so identify with this father, who wanted his son to be healed, even if he did not understand how it should happen. That he replies "straightway" says to me that he wants to answer correctly so that the Lord will bless his son, even though he may still have doubts. Then the honest and humble plea: "Help thou mine unbelief."

There's a thread over at Mormon Matters on priesthood blessings, and some great discussion about the faith of priesthood holders who perform the blessings and those who receive them. I'm touched with the honesty of good worthy men who admit that they do not know everything there is to know, and who may not understand their own faith in these matters. And I empathize with them.

I have been fortunate in my life to have been blessed with faith. I believe it has come to me as a gift, and I do not know why I have it and others do not. A very close friend from my college days took a path very different from my own because of his faith. We walked part of our path together; we read similar things, asked similar questions, prayed similar prayers (often together) yet his heart took him one way and mine took me another. I have written about the fact that some of my children have chosen other paths than the one I am on. Some of those children were quite earnest in their seeking at one point in their lives.

I have great respect for those who develop faith and act on it and see it grow in their lives. But I also have great respect –- in fact maybe more -- for those whose faith is smaller, who do not have what they would consider remarkable experiences, and still move forward, putting one foot in front of the other as they walk the straight and narrow path.

I've commented before that we have different spiritual gifts. As a result, I hope that we are sensitive to the fact that we will not all have the same spiritual experiences. And hopefully knowing that our spiritual experiences are unique and precious, we will protect them and display them with care, sharing them when prompted to do so, but in a way to strengthen and lift others, not to boast.

Further I would suggest that when we encounter another whose faith is not as strong, we dare not assume why that is. The discussion of spiritual gifts in 1 Corinthians 12 or Doctrine and Covenants 42 does not include a worthiness clause. We should not assume that father in Mark needed help with his unbelief because he was lazy or unworthy. That father had already carried his son first to the Lord's disciples and then, very publicly, to the Lord Himself. He clearly was willing to do something to gain the blessing he sought for his son.

That the Lord can help our unbelief is a great comfort to me, knowing there have been times in my life when I have felt unequal to the task I faced, and hoping and believing, even with imperfect faith, that the Lord could make up the difference between what I could offer and what was required.

- Paul

Faith

In his Articles of Faith, written first in a response to a newspaperman about Mormon beliefs, Joseph Smith lists faith in the Lord Jesus Christ as the first principle of the gospel. It's easy to see why. Faith seems to be a motivating force guiding believers to action.

Mormons tend to differentiate between belief and faith, with the difference that faith moves one to act, where belief might not. And faith might affect outcomes, as well. The verse from James that Joseph read before retiring to the woods to pray reminds, "Let him pray in faith, nothing wavering" (James 1:6).

So if faith motivates to one to act, it may also signal an expectation for an outcome, as well (faith to be healed, faith to receive answer to prayer, faith to choose well).

I draw another parallel for faith from the business world. I go to work each day in good faith, assuming my employer will pay me at the end of the month. A house seller acts in good faith by taking his house off the market when he has an acceptable offer from a buyer. I pay an online merchant with my credit card in good faith, assuming he will ship the items I have purchased. In each of these examples, I have an assumption of the outcome.

Jesus in the New Testament speaks of faith as a power that leads to miraculous outcomes. If we demonstrate enough faith we may enjoy the blessing we seek.

So here is a small conundrum for me. On the one hand, I believe God to be all powerful and completely capable of doing whatever He determines to do, within whatever constraints He (or the laws under which he operates) has placed upon himself. On the other hand, my earthly father's example taught me that I ought to be humble and not make too many demands on God. So when I act "in faith, nothing wavering," I suppose I need to be cautious about whether my faith is in the potential of God to answer my prayer (absolutely) or in the outcome (maybe not so much).

If I have faith in Jesus Christ, to return to that first principle, then I might act confidently according to His teachings and commandments. Even if I do not have a perfect knowledge, as the Book of Mormon prophet Alma calls it, I can operate with faith, as if I knew.

In my own life, this is how my testimony has developed over the years. I have, from time to time, without knowing the end from the beginning, taken a step into the unknown, with faith (or at least hope) that a promised blessing would materialize. Honestly, my performance in this matter has been somewhat variable. Sometimes I have felt as if I've demanded a blessing, and other times, I've hoped for a blessing that has seemed not to have come. But despite my unevenness, over time, the pattern seems to be that when I act in good faith, the Lord finds a way to demonstrate to me that He has kept his side of the bargain.



- Paul