As I mentioned the other day, Joseph Smith cited faith in the Lord Jesus Christ as the first principle of the gospel. The second, he says, is repentance (Articles of Faith 1:4).
Repentance is a remarkable gift offered us through the atonement of Jesus Christ. It is in my mind what allows us to change. We teach our children that it's a process – recognize that you've done wrong, feel remorse for the mistake, confess the error to God (and to others who might have been hurt), restore what was lost in the mistake, and don't repeat the error.
I was teaching a class in church a few years ago about repentance. I had drawn a picture of the straight and narrow path (the Savior taught that baptism sets us on that path; see Matthew 7:14, Matthew 3:15) on the board. I asked what the first thing we would do when we realize we are off the path. The answer: Stop! Then we'd try to find our way back to the path, and repentance is the way to do that.
One might think of repentance as "turning" back to the Lord.
However we think of it, repentance allows us to realign ourselves with God. And it's made possible by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. It is, to me, part of His gift to us (which also includes His perfect example and His resurrection which gives us power over death).
In a world where self-help books line bookstore shelves, repentance is, to me, what makes it possible. Repentance is what allows us to change, to abandon our past mistakes, to leave guilt behind, and to move forward better men and women than when we started.
The other thing I've found in my own life is that I cannot do it alone, and this is why repentance is not simply another label for self improvement. Instead it is the vehicle through which self improvement is possible. Changing without repentance has not worked for me. The acknowledgement of the need for a Savior in my life to help me overcome my weaknesses has been a key for my own progress along that path.
- Paul
Showing posts with label LDS Faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LDS Faith. Show all posts
Friday, December 18, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
On the Borders of Testimony
I wrote the other day of testimony, and suggested that for Mormons it is what we know and how we know it, that is, what spiritual experiences may have led us to our religious convictions.
I listened to a speaker years ago who suggested an interesting puzzle with testimony. Testimony is about what we know, and one might think that the more one knows the stronger one's testimony becomes. And in some sense that it true.
But, the speaker suggested, we might think of testimony as a circle. When the circle of testimony is small, and it may only concern the very most basic elements of truth, the circumference of that circle is also small. As our testimony grows, however, the circumference also grows. If one acknowledges that the circumference of the circle is the border between what we know and what we don't know, then there is a certain risk in a growing testimony, namely the more we know, the more we know we don't know.
For me, there are several approaches I've seen to this apparent dilemma. One, of course, is simply to refuse to learn any more so that the border stays small. While this approach might work for children, it certainly didn't work for me. It has been too energizing for me to learn new things along the way.
Another approach might be to grow the border as quickly as possible, trying to cover as much ground as possible with our testimonies, perhaps in some hope that we might finally transcend borders. The image this approach conjures in my mind is from Donne's "Valediction Forbidding Mourning", in which the speaker suggests that the lovers to be separated have a love that is like gold, which can be pounded ever flatter to cover more and more distance between them. My own worry in this approach is that my gold would wear too thin somehow. (Perhaps I need help in my unbelief; See Mark 9:24.)
And so I find for myself that I tend to make trips from the center to the border and back regularly in my own testimony. I often return to those things I know, particularly when confronted with something I do not know or understand. It is not that I retreat completely, but more like a toddler who grasps for the familiar waiting arm of his parent as he learns to walk. In time, I find my footing and can move more steadily forward toward the border, and often extend it.
But I am not comfortable hanging out at the border all the time. There are others who may prefer that approach, but I yearn for the familiar and comfortable as well as the new and uncharted.
I imagine that my friends of other faiths who learn about Mormonism may be like me; they may feel a desire to learn more, but also yearn for the comfort of what they know (or at least believe). I hope that they will also continue to probe the border and to push that circumference out, even if just a little.
- Paul
I listened to a speaker years ago who suggested an interesting puzzle with testimony. Testimony is about what we know, and one might think that the more one knows the stronger one's testimony becomes. And in some sense that it true.
But, the speaker suggested, we might think of testimony as a circle. When the circle of testimony is small, and it may only concern the very most basic elements of truth, the circumference of that circle is also small. As our testimony grows, however, the circumference also grows. If one acknowledges that the circumference of the circle is the border between what we know and what we don't know, then there is a certain risk in a growing testimony, namely the more we know, the more we know we don't know.
For me, there are several approaches I've seen to this apparent dilemma. One, of course, is simply to refuse to learn any more so that the border stays small. While this approach might work for children, it certainly didn't work for me. It has been too energizing for me to learn new things along the way.
Another approach might be to grow the border as quickly as possible, trying to cover as much ground as possible with our testimonies, perhaps in some hope that we might finally transcend borders. The image this approach conjures in my mind is from Donne's "Valediction Forbidding Mourning", in which the speaker suggests that the lovers to be separated have a love that is like gold, which can be pounded ever flatter to cover more and more distance between them. My own worry in this approach is that my gold would wear too thin somehow. (Perhaps I need help in my unbelief; See Mark 9:24.)
And so I find for myself that I tend to make trips from the center to the border and back regularly in my own testimony. I often return to those things I know, particularly when confronted with something I do not know or understand. It is not that I retreat completely, but more like a toddler who grasps for the familiar waiting arm of his parent as he learns to walk. In time, I find my footing and can move more steadily forward toward the border, and often extend it.
But I am not comfortable hanging out at the border all the time. There are others who may prefer that approach, but I yearn for the familiar and comfortable as well as the new and uncharted.
I imagine that my friends of other faiths who learn about Mormonism may be like me; they may feel a desire to learn more, but also yearn for the comfort of what they know (or at least believe). I hope that they will also continue to probe the border and to push that circumference out, even if just a little.
- Paul
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
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
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
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