In One Ear

One of the problems with Conference is that it's too easy to forget. One thought or talk might stick with me, but the rest of it is forgotten basically immediately after it happens. Thankfully, the talks remain available online, and I keep notes that a) help me pay attention during the talks and b) let me record and recall any impressions I got that weren't explicitly mentioned in the talk, so those things help, but I still have trouble remembering what was shared in Conference. Perhaps I ought to latch on to a single thought or talk from Conference and make a conscious effort to lock it into my long-term memory, so at least I'll have that one talk in my mind. I could have hoped that I'd be able to remember more of Conference than that, but I'll take what I can get.

The Wisdom to Not Seek Power

In the current Magic: the Gathering storyline, there are multiple factions who are each trying to find Orazca, the lost city of gold. Apparently, there's a magical artifact there called the Immortal Sun, and each faction wants to claim that artifact and use its power for their own reasons.

Except for one.

One of the factions in play is a group of merfolk, who, being deeply in-tune with the magic of the world, could probably find the lost city fairly easily, yet they choose not to live there, and they have especially chosen not to wield the powerful artifact that they could find within. Their reason for this is that they don't trust themselves to use the power wisely. They know that, if they held the power of the Immortal Sun, they'd be tempted to abuse it.

I think that this level of introspection and self-restraint is commendable, and I share their concern. I mostly don't want to hold power because I don't want to hold the responsibility that comes with it, but I also worry that I would probably lose control of whatever power I was given. Sometimes, when I need to "vent" negative energy, I pretend to shoot lightning bolts to get the negative energy out of my system. I'd hate to think of what might happen if it wasn't pretend. If I actually had the power to shoot lightning bolts, I might hurt someone by accident, or, even worse, not.

I wouldn't trust myself with lightning powers, or any other superpowers, any more than the merfolk trust themselves with the power of the Immortal Sun. Ultimately, I hope to develop enough responsibility to prove worthy of holding power, but I have a long way to go before I reach that point. Thankfully, helping me reach that point is part of the reason God allowed me to be born.

Life is a proving ground. We were each given a certain amount of power, mostly to see what we would do with it and to teach us how to use our power responsibly. For example, God gave me the power to speak and write, and so, part of my life's purpose is to learn how to speak and write wisely and responsibly. If God can't trust me to control my own tongue, how could He ever trust me with lightning powers? Fortunately, I have time (an eternity, in fact) to become responsible enough for God to trust with the power He wants to give us, but until we prove worthy, it is wise for us to not seek out, or be given, any more power than we can responsibly handle.

Traditions

In the Book of Mormon, almost every time traditions are mentioned, the speaker is referring to the wicked traditions of some people's fathers, which, we are usually reminded, are not correct. Yet, we know from experience that there are also traditions that are good, that draw people closer to God. There are probably also some neutral traditions that are neither good nor bad.

I think that the concept of traditions is mostly a neutral one. Traditions, like habits, can be good or bad, depending on what the traditions are. Of course, it's not always wise to do something just because that's what you've always done. Even with our best traditions (or habits), we should occasionally re-evaluate them to make sure that they are still things that we would consciously choose to do, without the tradition (or habit) automatically making the decision for us. Still, good traditions can help us regularly make good decisions. As with many things, traditions are tools; we should use them wisely.

In general (pun intended), I think that having traditions is a good idea. I think that it's wise to establish good traditions and to re-evaluate them periodically. Good traditions can be of great benefit to us, but following traditions unthinkingly can be dangerous. Traditions themselves, then, are slightly dangerous, just like any other powerful tool. We should take care when we establish and follow traditions, but if we use them wisely, they can serve us well.

The Repentance Process

A few days ago, at least, I mentioned the repentance process in one of my blog posts, and I would just like to take a moment right now to emphasize that it truly is a repentance process. We sometimes, mistakenly, think of repenting as something a person does once. They commit a sin, and then they repent of it, and then it's over. But repentance is so much more than that. Repentance isn't just apologizing for doing wrong and promising not to do it again. Repentance means changing, and changing takes time. When we repent of a sin, that's not a one-time apology for one action we did, it's a process of changing our natures, or at least our habits, so we commit that sin less and less frequently until we manage to stop committing that sin at all. So when we talk about repenting, let's be sure that we mean more than just apologizing, and when we repent of our sins, let's be sure that we are actually following the full process of repentance.

Following Directions

The other day, my brother and I rode our bikes to a place we had both been to before via a different route than either of us had ever taken. Though familiar with our destination, neither of us were familiar with the route, which included several turns we could have easily missed. However, to help us navigate to our destination, I got directions from Google Maps on my phone, and I had my phone give me those directions through my headphones. When we approached a turn, my phone would tell me about it, and I would relay that information to my brother, who would then follow me around the turn. As I followed the directions and my brother followed me, we both got to our destination on time.

This is how it works in the church. Church leaders follow the Spirit, and we follow our church leaders. Of course, we can follow the Spirit directly (My brother has a phone, too.), but we sometimes find that challenging. Sometimes, the still, small voice has a hard time getting through the noise of the wind and traffic. At those times, it's a blessing to have leaders who know well what the Spirit's voice sounds like and are listening carefully.

This weekend (and last Saturday), some of our church leaders will speak to us (and/or have spoken to us). Now it is up to us to watch and listen carefully so we can follow their directions and avoid getting lost on our way to our eternal destination.

Practising Religion

In the last talk of the last session of last General Conference, Elder Quentin L. Cook spoke of the 10,000 hour rule, which states that a person must practice a skill for at least 10,000 hours to master it. Elder Cook related this rule to spiritual skills, saying "Just as repetition and consistent effort are required to gain physical or mental capacity, the same is true in spiritual matters." He reminded us of the importance of doing the simple, daily things that strengthen our spirits, such as praying and studying the scriptures. Our spiritual strength grows as we regularly exercise it.

As I mentioned yesterday, it is important for us to practice what we preach. If we don't, we may find that our spiritual muscles are atrophying, whereas if we do, we may find that our spiritual strength is growing stronger by the day.

Let us take time each day to practice our religion and exercise our faith, knowing that, just as with other skills, our spiritual skills grow stronger through such practice.

Setting the Standard

Given that General Conference has officially already started, I think I had better hurry and finish up blogging about the last one. As I reviewed Elder Benjamin De Hoyos's talk, That Our Light May Be a Standard for the Nations, I kept thinking that his message was similar to one I shared a few weeks ago: The Moral Necessity of Political Involvement.

I don't think God ever intended us Mormons to fit in. Ever since the restoration, if not a few centuries or millennia before that, God meant for His church to stand out in the crowd. We're not supposed to act like the atheists or agnostics or non-Christians or even like the other Christians. We are supposed to teach others, by by word and by example, how Jesus Christ wants His children to live.

This is a tall order. Elder De Hoyos spoke of letting our light shine and setting the standard, but in order to do that, we have to follow that light and the Lord's standard. Many prophetic quotes contain messages along the lines of not being able to lift others higher than we ourselves stand. That may be why the command to "shine forth, that thy light may be a standard for the nations" is preceded by the command to "Arise" (D&C 115:5).

If we are to be the examples God wants us to be, we must try to be exemplary. We have to try to follow the commandments and teachings of God if we are to have any success in encouraging others to follow them. This doesn't mean that we have to be perfect, or even that we have to be good. We just have to try, and we have to let other people see us striving for the ideal standard of behavior that we would like them to also strive for. We have to practice what we preach, for their sakes as well as ours, and we have to preach repentance, for our sakes as well as theirs.

God wants all of His children to be righteous and set good examples for others, and that is especially true for members of His church. He has called us to be His "standard for the nations," but to magnify that calling, we need to be following that standard ourselves.

Not Much to Say

With this Primary lesson, I am in a unique position of not having much of a history portion to share, meaning that I can focus more on the doctrinal portion. Yes, there were a few interesting events happening when Joseph Smith received those revelations about baptisms for the dead, but those events aren't important enough for me to have to share them. Unfortunately, or fortunately, what's left won't take a whole lot of time to discuss. Baptism is essential. Some people weren't baptised. We can perform baptisms for them in the temple. Of course, we'll want to explain what "vicariously" and "proxy" mean, but that won't take too terribly long.

I should plan activities to a) help keep the children engaged, and b) help fill time. The lesson plan starts with a suggestion for an "Attention Activity" that illustrates the concept of helping those who can't help themselves, and that could be fun, but the "Enrichment Activities" aren't really activities at all - just stories and topics for discussion. Maybe I should try to come up with a game for the children to play, but what game could they play that could go along with a lesson about baptism for the dead? Perhaps I ought to sleep on it. Maybe I'll think of something more engaging than hangman while I'm trying to sleep.

Undeserved Love

I didn't think I was going to cry today. I didn't cry at the memorial service (no matter what Cousin Carol thought she saw), but at the graveside service, my brother David said something that made me think and, ultimately, made me cry. Unfortunately, I can't remember exactly what he said, so I can't quote him, so I'll just share the thoughts I had while he was talking and the thoughts that I'm having now, as I reflect on those thoughts.

We may feel that Dad doesn't deserve our love, and maybe he doesn't, but God has asked us, or rather commanded us, to love one another, whether they deserve our love or not. Along the same lines, we should strive to follow God's example of unconditional love. God loves all of His children, all of us, whether we deserve it or not, and He loves all of us more than we deserve.

So, maybe we shouldn't try to figure out whether or not people deserve our love or how much of our love they deserve, and instead try to love them anyway, even though they probably don't deserve it. Love doesn't always mean forgiveness, though we've been commanded to forgive everyone, too. And love doesn't always mean kindness, though we should always try to be kind. Love can take many forms, including "tough love" and, occasionally, pity.

What, exactly, Jesus meant when He said to "Love one another" may be up to interpretation, but in my opinion, no valid interpretation includes an addendum based on whether or not the recipient deserves it.

Missing Dad

Tomorrow is my dad's memorial. I'm still not sure how to feel. I'm not heartbroken or anything, but I'm still, strangely, a little sad, and I'm not entirely sure why. I know this isn't goodbye. I already did that part the day he died, his spirit has passed on, and I'm going to see him again in the afterlife anyway. "Goodbye" doesn't really apply here.

Then, if I'm not saying goodbye, what am I going to do tomorrow? Pay my respects? To Dad? I can't really do that, either. My dad wasn't a terrible person, in my experience, but he wasn't a great person, either. I didn't respect him much when he was alive, and I don't respect him much now. I mostly still respect him as a person. I could pay my respects to him for that.

But I have another reason to feel the way I do. I'm not going to miss my dad because he was never a big part of my life to begin with, but I still feel like there's something missing. I think it's not so much that I'm going to miss him but that I'm sorry to have missed out on the dad he should have been. I wish we had had a better relationship. I wish I were going to miss him. What I miss is the opportunity to have had a normal, loving Dad.

So, I'm going to the memorial. I don't think I'll say anything, since it probably wouldn't be appropriate for me to say what I feel. I won't speak ill of my dad at his own memorial or graveside service. But I will say this, if not there, then here: I'm sorry my dad and I didn't spend more time together. I'm sorry we weren't better friends. I'm sorry I didn't really get to know him very well. And, in a way, I'm sorry he's gone.

I won't pretend he was a saint or anything. I'm probably not going to cry. But in a weird, roundabout sort of way, I think I am going to miss him.

Post-Mortal Repentance

Now that I've gotten this week's quizzes and exams out of the way, I can focus my thoughts on the Primary lesson I'm going to be teaching this next Sunday. The lesson will be on baptisms for the dead, and it involves the belief that people can learn and accept the gospel, change their lives, repent, be baptised, and receive all of the other ordinances as well, all after that person has died.

This is, in my opinion, one of the most important beliefs in Christendom. It means that those who had previously rejected that gospel, or who had never had a chance to accept it, would be given a(nother) chance. It means that the billions of people who never became members of Christ's church wouldn't just be automatically consigned to hell. It means that there is hope and a future for everyone, even those who had never heard of Jesus Christ or who had acted as though they never had. Post-mortal repentance is one of the most hopeful doctrines I've ever heard.

Of course, post-mortal repentance has its limitations. Those who procrastinate repentance until after their deaths, hoping to "live it up" while alive and still reap eternal rewards, may find that the repentance process is more difficult than they anticipate. And the sacred, saving, essential ordinances still need to be performed, even if only vicariously - hence the need for baptisms for the dead. But it is comforting to know that, even if it's difficult, and even if there are still a few hoops to jump through, it is possible for a person to repent and be redeemed, even after they've died. Deathbed repentance still isn't a good plan, but it's nice to know that God has a plan that goes even beyond that point, a point that many consider to be a point of no return.

The God we worship is a God of second chances, and third chances, and basically as many chances as He can justify giving us. Even if a person spent their entire life acting wickedly, God wants to give that person, and everyone else who ever lived, one last opportunity to repent. I expect that there will be many atheists who will be surprised and converted after their deaths, and many others who subscribe to different beliefs may become converted as well, and God has room in His kingdom for all of them as well as for all of us. God wants everyone to have the opportunity to live a celestial life, and I am so grateful that He keeps extending us those opportunities, even after death.

Can We Know God?

Funny thing, the day after I blogged about how we can't even know if our thoughts are our own thoughts, I listened to a Conference talk about how we can come to know God. Part of me is still semi-existentialist about whether or not we can really know anything, and the other part of me is thinking about faith. As far as I know, God has only physically revealed Himself to a relatively small number of people, which, among other things, has led to many people doubting His existence. Of course, God could reveal Himself to everyone and make the reality of His existence obvious to everyone. But He doesn't. God usually only shows Himself in subtle ways, and usually only to those who ask Him to and who probably already believe in Him. For the most part, God requires us to have faith.

I think that part of the reason God doesn't offer the world proof of His existence is so this can be a real test for us. Will we follow the impressions of our hearts, or will we rely solely on what we can see and hear? If we knew all about God and the Plan of Salvation, and the rewards for righteousness (really knew them, not having to take them on faith), then this life wouldn't be as much of a test of character as it would be a test of patience and determination. A greedy person may act generous, if he knew there was something in it for him. If such a man knew about the rich blessings of eternity, he might be generous with his earthly goods out of a greedy desire for eternal rewards. If this life is supposed to test our character, it's important for us not to really know what all is at stake here.

Then, why would God allow some of us to come to know Him? If religious knowledge might skew the test, why take the risk of letting some of us learn of His existence? Why tell us that there's even a test at all? Wouldn't it be a better test of character to have us all do whatever we felt like doing, without the risk or hope of consequences influencing our decisions? I'm sure that God knows better than I do, and I'm sure that He did what's best for everyone, but this just doesn't make much sense to me right now.

I had intended this blog post to be about faith. I wanted to blog about whether or not faith could count as knowledge and whether it could be as sure, or even more sure, than knowledge. Unfortunately, I went off on a tangent, and now I, once again, have more questions than answers. I look forward to having God explain this all to me at some point. In the meantime, I'm going to have a lot of questions, which, come to think of it, might actually be the point.

What if God doesn't just want us to know things? What if He wants us to learn things by figuring them out? If a child asks you how some bugs are able to stand on water, and you tell them, they'll have learned a few things about surface tension, but if you tell them to figure it out themselves, and they do, they'll have learned how to learn. The same may be true of spiritual matters. Perhaps God gave us enough information to ask meaningful questions, hoping that we would learn how to ask questions and find answers. Perhaps God gives us just enough evidence of His existence for us to know that it's a possibility, but little enough evidence to leave room for some doubt, hoping that we would study and ponder and reason and learn.

Then, I have to wonder, what is the endpoint of this learning? Are we meant to discover the truth ourselves? Are we meant to stay somewhere between doubt and faith, never quite reaching certainty, just so the learning process can continue indefinitely? If so, what's the point? Is there some eternal benefit to learning how to learn?

Of course there is.

Even if we spent a lifetime learning the mysteries of the universe from God Himself, it would probably take us longer than our natural lives to grasp it all. Therefore, learning must continue in the afterlife. And if we are to learn throughout our eternal lifetimes, we must first learn how to learn. That may be the reason God is reluctant to let us learn anything for certain during this mortal life. As long as there's something we don't know, there is a reason to try to learn it, giving us a compelling reason to practice learning. Once we've gained enough experience in learning, we'll be good enough at learning for us to be able to learn everything God wants to teach us. In the meantime, there have to be things we don't know, because they give us reasons to learn how to learn.

This finally brings me back to the question in the title: Can we know God? In this life, no, I don't think so. The existence and nature of God are such important pieces of information that many people are eager to try to learn them by any way we can. Those questions create an intense desire to learn how to learn. They are too valuable as questions for God to let us just find or be given the answers. On the other hand, I think that it is possible for us to learn a few things about God, even in this life, and I am certain that God wants us to learn all about Him eventually. Those who seek Him will eventually come to know God. In the meantime, those who seek the answers to life's most important questions will first find out how to learn.

Thoughts on Certainty of Thoughts

When I wrote about Descartes in my in-class mini-essay this morning, I neglected to mention my concerns about his certainty in the indubitability of his thoughts. He knew that his senses could have been falsified, and he even said that it was possible that there was some evil genius feeding him false senses, yet he was certain that his thoughts were his own.

Having grown up in the church, I have known for basically my whole life that there is an "evil genius" purposefully attempting to deceive us, but he doesn't do it by feeding us false senses (so far as I know); he does it by feeding us false thoughts. Satan gives us impressions of things that aren't true and gives us advice that we most certainly should not follow. These are not our own thoughts and impressions, but those of one who is trying to destroy us. We know that not all of the thoughts in our minds are ours.

Thankfully, there is at least one other spirit who also plants thoughts in our minds, and He testifies of the truths we learn, corrects the misinformation fed to us by other sources, and inspires us with true information that we may not have been able to learn otherwise. His thoughts our not our thoughts either, though we should strive to make our thoughts more like His.

So, I have my doubts about how many of Descartes' thoughts were actually Descartes', and I think that he was wise to be concerned about the possibility of an evil genius trying to fool him. He just got a few things a little bit off, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if the evil genius Descartes was concerned about had a hand in that. I could easily see Satan planting doubts and false certainty into Descartes' mind, making him believe that he could trust the thoughts in his mind but that he had to doubt all else, including his own senses. The devil is tricky like that.

But we who know of him are wise to his tricks. We know that not all of our thoughts are actually ours, and we are cautious about any thoughts or impressions that might actually have come from him.

At the same time, we eagerly look out for thoughts and impressions that might have come from other, far more Celestial sources. Again, we know that the thoughts aren't ours, but in this case, that actually makes them even more trustworthy. We may be wrong about many things, but we are confident that God isn't, and it's through His Spirit that we can learn things even more certainly than if we had seen them with our own eyes.

So, I think Descartes may have been wrong to think that he was the only one in his own head and that the thoughts he found in there were completely trustworthy. I'm sure that some of them were and some of them weren't, and I believe that, if we want to know which is which, it would take an impression from the Holy Ghost to be certain.

Other Kinds of Prayers

Yesterday, I said that the Holy Ghost doesn't often help us when we don't ask for help, but shortly after writing that, I realised that not praying for help is a lot harder than it sounds. In Hymn #145, Prayer Is the Soul's Sincere Desire, we learn that "Prayer is [among other things] the burden of a sigh, the falling of a tear, the upward glancing of an eye when none but God is near."

If this is true, then we pray far more often than we might think we do, especially when we need help. All of us have looked upward, or cried, or at least sighed when we felt that we were in over our heads, and I am certain that God hears those prayers and occasionally answers them. After all, God is our loving Heavenly Father, and He wants to help us,  even when the only way we ask for His help is non-verbally.

I am thankful that God hears our non-verbal prayers and that He is always mindful of us, even when we are not consciously mindful of Him. I'm grateful that He understands the feelings that we often lack the words to express. I am sure that there have been many times when I had heaved a sigh or shed a tear and God sent me the comfort that I didn't know I had been asking for. God truly is very close to us, and He loves us more than we can express. That is why I am so thankful that God hears and answers our non-verbal prayers.

When Does the Holy Ghost Help You?

Elder Gary E. Stevenson titled his April 2017 General Conference talk after a question he heard in a Family Home Evening lesson and has pondered many times since: "How Does the Holy Ghost Help You?" Tonight, I would like to ask a similar question: "When does the Holy Ghost help you?"

The answer can be "always," or "nearly always." Those of us who have received the Gift of the Holy Ghost by having been baptised and confirmed members of the LDS church have been promised that we can have the Holy Ghost as a constant companion. However, that doesn't mean that He will always help us. At least, not in the ways that we might want Him to. For example, the Holy Ghost might bless us with the patience to endure our problems even when what we really want is advice for how to solve them. Still, whether the help He gives us is the help we wanted or not, He can still be a near-constant helper in our lives.

Yet, that blessing (as well as many others) is usually contingent on our asking for them. The Holy Ghost is more likely to help us if and when we remember to ask Him to. And if we would like to have His continued help, it would also help if we thanked Him for His help and continually strived to stay worthy of it.

However, that is not to say that the Holy Ghost never helps the unworthy, ungrateful people who haven't asked for help. He often, out of the goodness of His heart, reaches out to others to give them a hug, a pat on the back, a shoulder to cry on, and/or a nudge in the right direction. Countless lives have been changed for the better thanks to the undeserved help of the Holy Ghost.

I am deeply thankful that the Holy Ghost is such a present source of help in our lives. In writing this blog post, I reflected on the fact that I didn't feel like the Holy Ghost had really helped me with anything today, but I also remembered that I hadn't asked Him to. I'm going to try to remember to do that more often. In fact, perhaps I ought to ask the Holy Ghost to bless with the wisdom (and perhaps a few reminders) to ask for His help more often.

Anger Doesn't

The second thought I'd like to share from Elder S. Mark Palmer's talk is less the logical opposite of the message I shared yesterday. Yesterday's message was that love encourages change. Today's message is that anger doesn't. As Elder Palmer put it, "No true teaching or learning will ever occur when done in frustration or anger, and hearts will not change where love is not present."

This is important to remember when teaching spiritual truths, whether you're at church, at home, going door to door, or wherever you may be. If you want to share the gospel in a way that others will receive it, you need to share it with love.

This principle holds true in secular matters as well. When teaching one's children, one would do well to calm, or at least hide, any feelings of frustration or anger one may have. Otherwise, the child may learn fear and anger rather than respect and wisdom.

Similarly, if we wish to have productive political conversations, we should use love rather than anger then as well. This may be difficult for many people who believe that their anger is justified and their enemies are unlovable, but Jesus Christ has counselled us to love and forgive everyone and has warned us that all anger is sinful. Besides, political arguments aren't productive. You may "win" the argument, but you won't win anyone over to your side of the argument unless you respect them and their thoughts and feelings, or at least pretend to. Remember: "hearts will not change where love is not present."

Sorry for getting political. I just had to get that off my chest.

You probably recall that we have been counselled to "Reprov[e] betimes with sharpness" (D&C 121:43), and that may seem to contradict the message that Elder Palmer has shared, but there is more than one way for reproof to be sharp.

"Sharpness" could mean "harshness," but I don't think that's the way the Lord meant it. I think that the Lord meant "with precision." With sharp reproof, we can cut away the bad behavior while leaving in everything that is good. Years ago, I blogged about "The Sword of the Spirit," at which time I said much the same thing.

Also, bear in mind that D&C 121:43 goes on to say "and then show[] forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy."

Using anger is not the best way to encourage correction. It isn't even a good way, especially in that it doesn't often work and sometimes even has the opposite of the desired effect. Instead of using anger to get our point across, we should use reason, sharp reproof "when moved upon by the Holy Ghost," and as large a measure as we can muster of sincere, Christlike love.

Love Encourages Change

Yesterday, I again started to blog about this month's batch of General Conference talks because the month was almost half over and I had only blogged about one blog post so far. I figured that if I wanted to blog about every talk from the Sunday Afternoon Session of the April 2017 General Conference before the end of the month, I had better get on it. At the time, I hadn't counted on Elder S. Mark Palmer's talk. Elder Palmer's talk was an insightful one, and it includes a few messages on unrelated topics that I would like to share, many of which were conveniently spelled out at the end of the talk. I plan to touch on at least two of them before moving on to the next talk.

The first topic I would like to cover is that love encourages change. Elder Palmer based his talk on the conversation between Jesus and a rich young man. This young man was also, evidently, fairly righteous, as he addressed Jesus as "good master," asked what he could do to gain eternal life, and reported that he kept every commandment Jesus listed. “Then Jesus Beholding Him Loved Him” and issued him the commandment that made the rich young man famous: "go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, take up the cross, and follow me" (Mark 10:21).

Elder Palmer latched onto those six words: “Then Jesus beholding him loved him.” He spoke about how Jesus' love inspires Him to call us to repentance. Elder Palmer said that he could vividly imagine "our Lord pausing and beholding this young man. Beholding—as in looking deeply and penetratingly into his soul, recognizing his goodness and also his potential, as well as discerning his greatest need."

Because of Jesus' insight into our potential and because of His immeasurable love for us, He has a strong desire for us to reach our potential, and the only way we can do that is by changing for the better. That is at least part of the reason is so persistently insistent that we repent. Repentance is how we change for the better, and it's the only way we can reach our full potential and claim all the blessings of God. If Jesus didn't care about us, He wouldn't care what happens to us. But because He loves us, He wants what's best for us, which is why He so sincerely wants us to repent.

Elder Palmer said that as we learn to love others the way Jesus loves them, we will be filled with the same feelings. We will want them to repent because we will love them enough to want them to qualify for God's greatest blessings. The same can be true of ourselves as well. When we see ourselves the way God sees us, complete with the eternal perspective and the undying love, we will want to change ourselves for the better. Love, particularly God's pure love, inspires people to want to change and to want to encourage others to change as well. God's love is a great motivator, and when we have God's love in our hearts and His perspective in our minds, we will be filled with a strong desire to change and to help other people change as well.

A Talk for Non-Members

In Elder Joaquin A. Costa's General Conference talk, To the Friends and Investigators of the Church, he shared his conversion story and some advice he has for investigators, including to "read the Book of Mormon and ask the Lord if it is true, and [to] experience repentance and be baptized." The funny thing was that most of his audience had already followed this advice. This was a General Conference talk. Most of the people who listen to General Conference talks are already Mormon. But Elder Costa knew that his fellow Latter-Day Saints weren't the only people who would hear his words. He knew that missionaries had brought investigators. He knew that individuals and families had brought family members and friends. And he knew that there was at least a small chance that some non-member had stumbled upon the satellite or radio broadcast and had felt impressed to listen in. Elder Costa knew that, out of an audience of millions, there were bound to be at least a few hundred non-members, and he addressed his remarks to them.

Now, not many of us get the opportunity to speak for an audience of millions, but we regularly get opportunities to speak for audiences of hundreds, including some non-members and members whose faith could use strengthening. When we speak in Sacrament Meeting, whether we're giving a talk or sharing our testimony, we sometimes forget that there is probably at least one person within the sound of our voice who doesn't yet have as strong a testimony as we have. Perhaps, every so often, we should address our remarks to them.

There are those among us who haven't grown up in the church, whose earliest childhood memories don't include singing Primary songs, who may not even know what "Primary" is. They need our love and support just as much as the rest of the congregation, if not more so. And, more importantly, they need to hear the "Primary/Seminary/Sunday School Answers" that we have all come to know by heart. Those principles have helped us gain the testimonies we have, and they may help others gain testimonies as well. May we, occasionally, follow Elder Costa's example by sharing faith-building advice with those among us who are not yet of our faith.

On the Acquisition of Morality

Going back to Aristotle, another thing he said is that ethics, which he seemed to define as good moral habits, are not inherently part of our natures, but are developed by habit. I partially agree with him. I think that all people are born with some good in them, but we must develop that goodness by putting it into practice. Thus, morality is both something that we are born with and something that we have to put conscious effort into developing. At least, those are my current thoughts about it. I'm looking forward to having a philosophical discussion about it tomorrow.

Mixed Feelings

As many of you will have heard by now, my Dad passed away this evening. Thankfully, I had an opportunity to visit him just before he died, and he seemed to not be in any pain. But now, I'm experiencing a lot of mixed feelings about all this.

Part of me is relieved. I don't think he was in pain, but the quality of his life wasn't very high. Arguably, his life has just gotten a lot more exciting and pleasant.

Another part of me feels a little sad. He and I didn't have the greatest relationship, and I guess I kind of wish we had had a better one.

But since we didn't really have a very good relationship, a part of me feels a bit of apathy about his death, and another part of me feels guilty for that. I should feel heartbroken that my dad died, but I kind of don't, and a part of me wishes I did.

I feel a bit nervous about what will happen next. Of course, there will be a funeral, the handling of his possessions, and the settling of his debts. There are a lot of questions to be answered and work to be done. I'm not looking forward to much of this.

But I am looking forward to moving on. For a long time, Dad was stuck in an awkward sort of limbo, not dead yet, but not really living. Now, he has moved on with his life, and we can soon start to move on with ours.

And a small part of me is feeling a bit pensive, if not existential. I know that mortals die, I know that I will die, and I know that all my friends and relatives and everyone I've ever (or never) known will die. But this is the first time I practically saw someone do it. I left his apartment shortly after 8, and I got the call about his death shortly after 9, and, to be frank, he looked like he already had one foot through the door (which is really saying something, since, since the amputation, he only had one foot). Since June, we've known it would be "soon," and when we visited tonight, we knew it would be "very soon," and now it has actually happened. And it is going to happen again. Sooner or later, we are all going to die.

I guess the main feeling I'm walking away from this with is the desire to be a better person, to cultivate relationships that matter, and to make sure that my death both will and will not be a tragedy for all the right reasons. I don't want people to have mixed feelings about whether or not they're going to miss me, and I don't want to have any mixed feelings about whether or not I'm ready to go. I don't plan on leaving any time soon, but sometimes, God has His own plans, even if we don't, so I feel like I should make some plans (and maybe some changes) so I can be ready when God's plan kicks in.

I have mixed feelings about Dad's death, and I have even more mixed feelings about mine, but I think I mostly feel like it's time to get things in order so people's feelings about my passing won't be as mixed as my feelings about my dad's.

"Aim at Some Good"

I just read a chapter in my philosophy textbook that talks about Aristotle, who argued that "All human activities aim at some good." This claim seems dubious, considering how much evildoing there is in the world (evidently, enough that "evildoing" is considered a real word by my spell checker). However, I think that this claim could be true, depending on how we define two words in it: good and aim.

First, good. "Good" isn't always an adjective meaning "righteous" or "desirable." It is sometimes a noun meaning a product. Vendors who sell products are said to sell goods. Thus, Aristotle may have meant that "All human activities aim to produce or accomplish something." That is, people have reasons for the things they do. This is, arguably, universally true.

Usually, if not always, the reason people do things is that they want things, and the thing they want usually ultimately ends up being happiness (at least, that's my opinion, and it may be Aristotle's too, if I understood the chapter correctly). Yet, even if every human action is performed with the goal of producing happiness, at least for the actor, that doesn't mean that every human action will result in happiness.

This is where the "aim" interpretation comes in. An actor may "aim" for happiness in performing an act (and I think we can all agree that happiness is "good"), but that doesn't mean they'll hit it. For example, one person might aim for happiness by, say, killing another person, because they believe that they, and perhaps the rest of the world, would be happier without that other person, but the action of committing murder will certainly result in unhappiness instead. Many evil acts are disguised and/or baited with the promise of happiness, thus causing many people to miss the mark. They may be aiming for happiness, a good thing, but they miss it because they're actually shooting at the wrong targets.

Thus, one way or another, I think it could be said that "All human activities aim at some good," but to truly understand what that claim means, one has to determine what goods people are aiming for and how good their aim is.

Why Do We Need Experience?

What's unfortunate is that I, both as a teacher and as a blogger, feel obligated to give my audience new information and insights, and not just raise spiritual and philosophical questions I don't yet know the answer to.

Case in point: I was just reading the revelations Joseph Smith received in Liberty Jail and excerpts from the letter(s?) he wrote from it, hoping to find insights worth sharing with my primary class and whomever reads my blog. Of course, I found the passage where the Lord says to Joseph Smith that even if thing get really bad and he has to suffer through a lot of negative experiences, "all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good" (D&C 122:7).

Now, this could easily turn into a blog post and/or spiritual thought about how everything we experience contributes to our growth and works out to our benefit, but the question I found myself asking, and that I'd like to explore tonight, is why experience is good for us. Why is experience, particularly negative experience, so important that we needed to come to Earth to get it? What do we gain from experience?

As a role-player, I found it odd that I was asking this question. In role-playing games that use experience, the value of experience is obvious and immeasurable. Experience makes you stronger. Specifically, experience adds up until you have enough to level up, which greatly increases your power in several ways, depending on which specific game you're playing. Experience is so valuable in role-playing games that players regularly go out of their way to get more of it.

Yet, that's not how experience works in real life (surprise, surprise). We don't level up when we hit certain milestones measuring how much experience we've gained. In real life, we have more gradual growth, and our growth is tied more to what we do than to what we experience. But if experience doesn't make us physically stronger or grant us magical powers, what does it do for us?

Our experiences give us wisdom (assuming we learn from them), but I kind of wonder what wisdom is useful for, eternally. Certainly, in mortal life, we can use all the wisdom we can get, but will that be true in the afterlife? Will we need wisdom after we die? Wisdom helps us make wise choices. Will we still have to make choices once we've entered into heaven?

Perhaps so. God wouldn't have bothered to give us agency if we weren't going to use it, and I don't think this life was all He had in mind. Agency seems to be a pretty big deal to God, and there has to be a reason for that. Could it be that, even after we've become perfect and achieved the highest glory of the Celestial Kingdom, we may still need to make choices. It seems odd to think about a Celestial Being having to make choices, but, when you think about it, God makes choices all the time, and it's imperative that He make good ones. If we ever find ourselves in a position where we have to make wise decisions that affect countless others, we're going to need a lot of wisdom, and we gain wisdom through experience.

Another answer is that our experiences make us better people, morally, or at least they can. Our experiences help us develop compassion, making us more Christlike. Thus, suffering through afflictions and enduring them well helps us achieve one of the main purposes to life on Earth. We all have a responsibility become more like Jesus Christ than we are now, but what about after this life? Will we continue to need the become better people after we have already become perfect?

Perhaps not,  but even if God knows He can safely live without additional experiences and the spiritual progression they bring, that doesn't mean that we don't need them and it. We are not perfect yet. Thus, we need to continue to change for the better, and our experiences can help us do that.

Still, are they really necessary? Having bad experiences isn't the only way to become better people, and it probably isn't the only way to gain wisdom, either, which brings me back to the question I started with: Why do we need to gain experience? I don't know the answer to that question yet, but I hope that, as I gain more experience, I will eventually learn the reason why it's so important for me to do so.

Doniphan's Defence

One part of the lesson that I want to make sure I cover, at least briefly, is General Doniphan's defence of Joseph Smith. According to the lesson manual, General Lucas "conducted a secret and illegal court-martial and sentenced the Church leaders to be executed," and ordered General Doniphan to carry out the execution. The manual says that General Doniphan wasn't a member of the church, but was "a friend of the Saints." Evidently, he refused to carry out the order, calling it "cold-blooded murder," and he warned General Lucas that there would be legal consequences if he killed the church leaders.

This was rather brave and generous of General Doniphan. In some ways, this wasn't really his problem. He wasn't a member of the church, and I don't know if he ever became one. I don't know of any ties he may have had to the church or its members. Still, despite not having any affiliation with the church, he saw fit to defend the church leaders from what he saw as an unjust execution, when it probably would have been easier for him to carry out the execution with the excuse that he was just following orders. This wasn't really his battle, but he fought it anyway for the sake of justice and because it was the right thing to do.

We should try to be like General Doniphan, not just in defending church leaders, but in defending anyone who's facing injustice. So often, we find it all too easy not to get involved, because it's really not our problem (or so we tell ourselves), but rather than letting us off the hook, God has asked us to reach out and help those who need help, whether they're friends or affiliates or strangers or even enemies. A good and just person tries to always be just and good, even when it's not really their problem and they don't really need to get involved.

Easiest Isn't Best

Reading about Joseph Smith's experience with afflictions, and about afflictions in general, I was reminded of a thought I had a while back that I haven't blogged about yet: "Easiest" is not always "best."

It would have been easier for Joseph Smith if he hadn't been imprisoned, but that doesn't mean that that would have been best for him and for the rest of the world. Perhaps he needed to have that affliction in order to strengthen him, just as Zion's Camp served to strengthen the men who went on to become the first restored Quorum of the Twelve. Or perhaps God, knowing that the world would need the comforting words He would reveal to Joseph Smith in Liberty Jail, put Joseph Smith into a position where he would ask for them.

The easiest paths and the easiest choices are not always the best ones. Often, God asks us to follow difficult paths because they're ultimately better for us than the easier paths we would rather have followed. Without His guidance (and occasional interference), many of us would follow the path of least resistance, the easiest path, and miss out on the growth that we came to Earth to experience. Much of the purpose of life would be frustrated if we never faced much affliction, making it imperative that we don't always just do whatever is easiest.

We need to face challenges, adversity, and afflictions. We need to struggle. In order to achieve our eternal potential, we need life not to be easy.

Perspective on Afflictions

This week, I'm going to teach my Primary class about one of the times Joseph Smith was imprisoned. This lesson will cover Joseph Smith rebuking foul-mouthed guards and his later imprisonment in Liberty Jail (but it won't include Carthage, which I'm sure we'll address later). The purpose of the lesson is "To help the children understand that if they have faith in the Lord, he will help us meet any adversity we face." To this end, the revelation given to Joseph Smith in Liberty Jail might be useful. But the trouble is that God has a very different perspective about affliction than we do.

I've heard it said that people evaluate whether or not a period of time is "long" based on what percentage of their own life that period of time represents. For example, five years might feel like an eternity to a fifteen-year-old, but it'll sound significantly less long to someone who is fifty. God is a lot older than fifty. With His eternal perspective, all of mortality seems like a short period of time. On the opposite end of the spectrum, young kids consider relatively short periods of time much longer by comparison. In my opinion, "a small moment" is only a few seconds long, maybe up to half a minute, but in God's perspective, "a small moment" could last for four months.

Trying to explain God's eternal perspective to Primary kids might be difficult, but it may be worth the effort. If I can teach them that they, too, can have an eternal perspective, I might be able to teach them that even a whole lifetime isn't actually all that long. Patience is difficult for Primary-age kids, but a lesson like this may help them develop it. At the very least, I know I'll have to cover the purpose(s) of affliction and God's ever-present help and comfort to help us overcome and endure them, but I think it would be nice if I could also teach my kids how short-lived those afflictions truly are when we put them into perspective.

Mutual Misunderstanding

This afternoon, I read a short article in which the author admitted that he didn't understand a certain group's point of view, even as he described how they clearly didn't understand his. Strangely enough, I found the article refreshing. It's true that we don't understand each other's points of view. How could we? We're not inside one another's heads, and we haven't had the same experiences. Even if we were to have the same experience, like looking at the same painting, we would probably experience it in different ways, such as noticing or focussing on different things in the painting or feeling different emotions about it. I don't think any two people have ever truly, completely understood one another's thoughts or feelings, unless one of those people were God or Jesus or the Holy Ghost. People constantly misunderstand each other, and it was nice to read an article written by someone who understood that.

In our daily interactions with people, there are going to be misunderstandings. We should expect it. We should never assume that we perfectly understand other people's perspectives because we are not those people. We haven't had the same experiences and we don't have the same personalities, so we can't have the same perspective that they have. We may not even be able to imagine what they might be thinking or feeling unless we know them well. We should try to understand that misunderstandings are inevitable, and we should try to be patient with others when we don't understand them or they don't understand us. In our dealings with others, mutual misunderstandings are, ironically, understandable.

Procrastinating Goals, Delaying Blessings

I've been following Keith Ballard's let's play of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. Breath of the Wild is an open world game with a very open approach to the story of the game. There are some clear goals, but the player is given the freedom to accomplish those goals whenever they get around to it. This level of freedom caused a problem for Keith.

Just before he was given the ability to leave the tutorial area and explore the whole map of the game, he was instructed to go talk to a particular NPC in a nearby town. Had he gone there directly, he could have made the journey in less than half an hour and would have quickly found a clothing shop and another NPC, who could increase his inventory slots. Instead, Keith wandered around the map for about 40 half-hour episodes, occasionally complaining that he didn't have many clothing options and that his inventory was constantly running out of room.

In life, God gives us a great deal of freedom, but He has also given us a few goals. If we abuse our freedom and procrastinate accomplishing those goals, we can end up missing out on blessings that would be useful (if not essential) to us. As we go through life, it can be fun, and even therapeutic, to go at our own pace and choose our own path, but we should still be careful not to ignore the path that God has lain out for us. The longer we put off doing the things God has asked us to do, the longer we'll have to do without the blessings we will gain by doing them. Let us try to be more wise than Keith was by resisting distractions and temptations and by accomplishing our God-given goals (and receiving the blessings thereof) sooner rather than later.

The Moral Necessity of Political Involvement

I don't like to "get political." Generally, I prefer to "live and let live." I took this stance from our eleventh Article of Faith:

We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may.

In my mind, this meant that if people wanted to worship Heavenly Father, or some other God or Gods, or material things, or celebrities, or political figures, or themselves, or even Satan, it was my moral duty to "let them worship how, where, or what they may," by not speaking out against it. I am prone to let others believe what they want to believe and do what they want to do, without any judgemental commentary from me. However, in light of a General Conference talk I read this morning, I've realised that this may be unkind.

Elder D. Todd Christofferson spoke of offering "[A] Voice of Warning" to those who believe untruths or practice bad behavior. He said:

While the duty to warn is felt especially keenly by prophets, it is a duty shared by others as well. In fact, “it becometh every man who hath been warned to warn his neighbor.” We who have received a knowledge of the great plan of happiness—and its implementing commandments—should feel a desire to share that knowledge since it makes all the difference here and in eternity.

So, it "becometh" us to teach other people about the commandments of God, especially when they break them, even if they don't believe in Him. We should constantly try to encourage righteousness and discourage unrighteousness. To do otherwise would mean allowing preventable evils to persist and would cause unnecessary pain to the victims of the evil, including the perpetrators. If we are to reduce mortal suffering and reduce the likelihood of eternal suffering, we must speak out against evil.

This, of necessity, forces us into the political arena. Especially recently, the conflict between differing political ideologies has involved an increasingly intense discussion of morality. Some political organizations have been encouraging evil acts or beliefs or have been accusing other political groups of encouraging evil acts and beliefs. If it were morally permissible, I admit that I would be far more comfortable letting the idiots be idiots and not paying or giving them any attention. Yet, it seems to me that the only moral course of action is to decry wickedness and try to help the evildoers see the error of their ways.

I don't want to "get political," but my political friends, and now Elder Christofferson, have convinced me that it's immoral for me to remain on the sidelines when I could otherwise do some good. I believe in doing good and encouraging others to do good. Now, I need to put that belief to political practice.

A Lot of Good

Maybe I'm inspired by the good that people are doing in and for Texas right now, or maybe it's just that I spent the day on the coast, visiting battlements that are in ruins due to lack of use, but I feel like there's a lot of good in the world. Goodness doesn't usually get a lot of attention, partly because it's so common, and partly because it doesn't often get people excited, but I find it refreshing to occasionally take a moment away from the evils in the world and the problems we still need to solve, and appreciate the good things and people in the world. This world isn't as bad as it sometimes seems. Yes, there are problems, and we will continue to try to solve them with a mental resolve bolstered by an appreciation of the world's goodness, but there is also a lot of good in the world, and it's strengthening to recognise and appreciate it.

We Can Call For Help

The other day, I walked into the Institute building and noticed a large wet patch on the carpet. Apparently, there had been some kind of plumbing issue, and both of the restrooms were out of order, but a plumber had already been called, and help was on the way. We live in an age of miracles, not the least of which is the fact that, when things go wrong, we can call for help.

This naturally applies to spiritual matters as well as temporal matters. Whenever we have a spiritual problem, like an affliction, a temptation, or a trial of faith, we can call on God for aid, especially if we have been making any attempt to be righteous at that point. And the blessings don't end there. We can also call on God for guidance with our temporal problems, including any plumbing or flooding issues we may have.

I am thankful that help is so readily available to those who need it. It's comforting to know that, whatever problems you may face, there is help available. We can always call on the Lord for help with our problems, and there are usually other people we can call on as well. Life is full of problems, but those problems become much more bearable when we remember that we can call for help.