Beatiful Reflections

Before I get into what I actually want to write about: yes, I do know how to spell "Beautiful." The title is a pun because I'm writing about the Beatitudes. So I won't apologize for bad spelling, but maybe I will apologize for my sense of humor.

Anyway, the other day in church someone was giving a talk on the Beatitudes. I had some thoughts during the talk that I enjoyed writing down, and I thought I'd put them up here just in case they similarly delight someone else.

Matthew, Chapter 5.

3. Blessed are the poor in spirit:

If you consider yourself poor, it means you recognize a lack of something. Those who are poor in spirit recognize that they don't have everything they need spiritually, and are willing to accept God's offerings of mercy, grace, and love. Those who consider themselves rich in spirit, or well-enough-off in spirit, might reject these gifts even though they really do need them.

4. Blessed are they that mourn:

A couple of months ago, I was having a tough time. I "bravely" trooped through it for a couple of weeks without complaints, but finally one day I broke and laid it all out on the table before God. I said a very whiny and complaining prayer and, strangely, felt better. For weeks I couldn't figure out why complaining to God made me feel better, but eventually I decided that I felt better because I had been honest with myself and God instead of hiding my emotions or trying to pretend I felt differently than I did.

Mourning is honestly acknowledging your emotions. Mourning is honoring and accepting the way you feel, without trying to stuff your feelings down and pretend you don't have them (to follow this thought in another direction, I think that escapist behaviors like doing drugs, drinking alcohol, or viewing pornography (or other, milder but still damaging escapist behaviors like spending hours on Facebook), are often a way of stuffing down our feelings and making them "go away." Honestly acknowledging our feelings is a lot harder than stuffing them down or medicating them away with drugs, alcohol, or pornography, but much better). So, when we allow ourselves to mourn, that self-honesty puts us in a place of truth where we are able to receive God's comfort. Escapism takes us away from truth and reality, away from God and His love.

5. Blessed are the meek:

The world right now is not very meek. People shoot each other; they find offense with each other everywhere imaginable; they end friendships because of dissenting political opinions. Being meek, on the other hand, is being gentle, forgiving, and benevolent. We need more meekness.

The blessing tied to being meek is "for they shall inherit the earth"--a pretty big blessing! Maybe this blessing is huge because we need something really monumental to help us decide to give up our pride. I'm a prideful person, and I frequently feel like nothing on earth matters as much as proving somebody wrong on Facebook; being right is, in those moments, the biggest good I can see. This promise allows me to step back and say, "wait, my pride isn't worth it. I want what God offers me--the whole world--more than I want to rant at this person."

6. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness:

This is a very encouraging scripture, because hungering and thirsting are feelings you have before you eat or drink; I'm neither hungering nor thirsting right now, immediately after eating dinner. So, I will be blessed for wanting righteousness, even if I don't actually have it yet. My desires to be good will let God bless me, not just my actual goodness.

7. Blessed are the merciful:

Mercy is a balm to your own soul. Anger, rancor, and hatred burn the soul of the one feeling them; mercy allows those feelings to be quickly healed and replaced with love. Love feels a whole lot better than hate.

Sometimes I feel like if I forgive someone then there will be some great cosmic imbalance; if somebody does something wrong, then they have to pay for it, and I have to keep track of that wrongness until the universe makes them pay. If I let go of what they did, the universe might lose track and they might never suffer as they should. Two things to remember here: first, God made the rules, and any infraction of the rules is really an offense towards God, not towards me. Thus, I can trust God to keep the great cosmic balance, to make sure no wrongs go unpunished. This knowledge lets me safely let go of my anger without worrying about the cosmic balance. Second, Jesus Christ took upon himself the responsibility for, and the punishment for, every sin that has been or will be committed. He paid the price. He ensured the great cosmic balance. He bought mercy with His blood. So, Christ not only extends me mercy, He also gives me the reason why I can offer mercy to others.

8. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.

When Adam fell, he was taken out of God's presence and could no longer see Him. God gave him the Gospel, whose ordinances purify our hearts and allow us to reenter God's presence, to see Him again. The purpose of God's Church is to be a framework for receiving these ordinances, so that we can see Him again.

9. Blessed are the peacemakers:

Peacemaking is often about letting something go. It is about leaving a witty, biting comment unsaid; it is valuing unity over being right or being better than someone else. There is a lot of meekness and mercy in peacemaking.

10. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake:

When we are put in the way of emotional or physical harm for Christ's sake, we feel some of the pain He felt in Gethsemane and Golgotha. Feeling that pain allows us to grow closer to Him, until we can also feel the cleansing, renewal, and new life of the atonement and resurrection.

Free Fall

Yesterday I took off in a small, 8-man airplane, ascended to 13,500 feet, and jumped out. After 60 seconds of free fall the parachute deployed, and I glided down for a smooth landing next to the small airport we left from.

I've been thinking about free fall since then. There literally are not words to describe what it feels like, falling from the height of mountains (actually, the exact same height as King's Peak, the tallest mountain in Utah), watching the patchwork of farmland below spin and slide, ears popping as my body accelerated to 120 mph, shouting into the wind and having my words snatched away before they even made it to my ears. There's no way to describe standing at the open door of an airplane and then insanely choosing to jump out. Every other thrilling experience, from roller coasters to rappelling down mountains, is just trying to come close to free fall. Free fall is the apex of thrill, the highest height, the most extreme extremeness.

It was so intense that my memory of it feels surreal, like it might have been a dream, or a parallel universe, or another life. The feelings I felt didn't seem to be part of this world. In a way it felt like it happened years and years ago, rather than just yesterday. Like a photograph of the sun has too much light and appears blurred and washed out, the stimuli were so powerful that my mind couldn't take it all in, and my memories are fuzzy.

And yet, I am absolutely certain that it happened. I am convinced that I jumped out of an airplane and fell at 120 mph. Even though I have trouble describing it, it really happened. Even if I never go skydiving again, even if I have to rely on memory until I am old and grey, I will remember that I jumped.

I've had other experiences in my life that are hard to describe. I've felt things while praying to my Heavenly Father that I have trouble explaining with words, things that don't really fit into the narrative of normal life, things so powerful that the memory of them feels strange and wonderful and a little surreal. My experiences after praying to ask if the Book of Mormon was true were like that. Same with praying to know if God is real, and if He loves me

But even if people question my experiences because they fall outside of the normal range of human experiences, or because I can't describe them in the same way I do scientific experiments, they were real. They happened. Even if years go by before something like that happens again, I can remember those experiences and hold onto them.

My Magic Ring

Note: This post has nothing to do with Gollum. I just felt like referencing LotR.

When I was in middle school, I developed a fascination with mood rings (it probably had something to do with this song by my favorite band). I bought a couple, but got over it after a year. I haven't worn a ring now in about ten years.

A few days ago, I was thinking about some problems in my life, and how I felt I was in a slump. I decided that the single best thing I could do to de-slump myself was to get closer to God.

At the beginning of the week my mom and I were talking about habits, and she mentioned that tiny habits can have huge impacts. I started thinking about small habits that could help me draw closer to God, feel better, de-slump.

Friday morning, I got out one of my old mood rings and put it on my pinky (it didn't fit on any of my other fingers). Every time I noticed it or remembered it I said a prayer. Because I hadn't worn a ring in years, it happened every five minutes.

It. Was. Awesome. The first half of the day was just kind of nice, in a non-glamorous but happy way; I just felt better. During the second half of the day I ran into 4 old friends while walking across campus; I had a delightful time catching up with them all. That evening I went to the temple, and had the best temple trip I can remember in about a year.

It was neat how good I felt after praying more; it was also incredible how easily wearing an old mood ring helped me pray more.

Conference Thoughts

A few of my thoughts from this last General Conference.

First, President Monson's talks from both the Priesthood and Sunday Morning sessions reminded me of something Elder Bednar shared last conference in his talk "Chosen to Bear Testimony of My Name." Elder Bednar related that "When you cannot do what you have always done, then you only do what matters most."

President Monson might no longer have the strength to speak for 20 minutes (although luckily for us, we can still go back and watch all the times when he did), so he condenses his powerful, life-changing messages down to 3 minutes. At least for me, these 3 minute talks were just as powerful and life-changing as ever. On Saturday night I learned that the Priesthood is Power, real, powerful power, and that wherever I go, my priesthood goes with me; today I learned that my choices determine my future. All in just a few minutes.

The second point that I'd consider life-changing came from President Uchtdorf, who shared a German phrase that translated to "There is nothing good unless you do it." Or in other words, our faith must change the way that we live. If our beliefs do not influence our daily decisions, it isn't really faith. This phrase was the highlight of conference for me personally.

The last point that really hit me came in Elder Kearon's talk about refugees. He talked a bit about the situation of the 60 million refugees currently seeking help across the world, and then talked about how the LDS church was, not too long ago, composed of refugees fleeing persecution. He also said that the Savior Himself was a refugee when He fled from Harod's maniacal purge into Egypt. He invited us to "stake a stand against intolerance," and to reach out in service to all of these children of God.

After Elder Kearon left the pulpit, President Uchtdorf stepped up to announce the next speaker. He had tears is his eyes. President Uchtdorf, who never cries even while bearing beautiful spirit-filled testimony, had tears in his eyes. I believe he cried because he, too, knew what it was like to be a refugee.

What a great conference. The best part is, the next one is only six months away.

Comparative Religion, Holy Envy, and Mazdas.

This semester I’m taking a World Religions class. I have several goals in this class—to understand people that I’ve never met, to adopt customs that will help me be more faithful in my own religion, and to learn about God by learning how other people know Him.

My first goal, and the reason I decided to take the class, came from a show I heard on NPR a couple months ago. A reporter was talking to a young man from Jordan; she asked him what he thought the most important subject for college students to take was, to which he replied, “Comparative Religion, because if we don’t understand each other how will we ever stop killing each other?” Having grown up in a multi-generational LDS (Mormon) family and having served my mission in heavily Catholic and Evangelical Chile, I don’t know very much at all about Islam or Asian religions—religions that more than half of the people on the earth profess. I hope that, having learned more about their religions and ways of thinking, I can understand them and love them just like I do Jews, Mormons, and other Christians.

My second goal came from my professor’s opening lecture. He introduced the concept of “Holy Envy,” which is when you see something in another religion that you wish your religion had. I decided to try to get Holy Envy about everything I possibly could. So far, I’ve decided to adopt:

• The Jewish Mezuzah. Jews place a little box on their door frames that reminds them to think of God whenever they go or come. I’m getting one.
• Ahisma, An Indian concept (found in Buddhism, Hinduism, and especially Jainism) of not causing hisma, or harm, to anyone or anything. I think I’ve been a proponent of ahisma for as long as I can remember, but it’s cool to put a name to the concept.
• Wu-wei, from Taoism (a Chinese religion). Wu-wei means inaction, and stems from a belief that the best way to get something to happen is to let it happen by itself without any intervention. I don’t think I’ll entirely adopt this concept, but I definitely want to become better at patiently waiting for God’s work to come forth without getting frustrated or anxious about it; also, I want to be better at letting other people change in that miraculous way that change happens, between God and them, without feeling like I have to get involved in the process.

My last goal kind of just sprang into existence one day while we were talking about Zoroastrianism, and the Zoroastrian God Ahura Mazda (Lord of Wisdom). Zoroastrians appreciate fire as a symbol of Ahura Mazda, and the car brand Mazda was also probably named after Ahura Mazda. I was thinking about how neat it is to associate fire with God, and about how I’d love to think that the Mazda 626 I drive is named after God (isn’t that cool symbolism? God moves me, and I hardly get anywhere in life except with God’s power). So I decided to just adopt both of those things—whenever I see the gentle flicker of a candle or the roar of a bonfire I’ll think about God’s love and power, and I’ll thank Him for moving me every time I get in my car.


My beautiful Mazda Ronnie in one of my proudest moments, parallel parked with 6 inches on either side.

Pagan Christmas?

This morning while running I listened to a podcast about the history of Rome. The podcast's Christmas special (yeah, I know, Christmas in August--bear with me) explained how the date we use to celebrate Christmas probably stemmed from the pagan celebration of Sol Invictus, or the unconquered sun. The celebration recognized that, after months and months of shrinking days and growing nights, the light was finally going to push back the darkness.

I've sometimes wondered about our decision to celebrate Christmas on December 25th, which really wasn't the day that Christ was born. However, I today I decided that I'm okay with it. Even if it isn't Jesus's literal birthday, the symbolism is stirring. The coming of the sun, or of the Son, will push back the darkness and save us from the bitter cold.

He is risen! He is risen!

He hath opened heaven's gate.

We are free from sin's dark prison,

Risen to a holier state.

Sources:
Mike Duncan, "The History of Rome Christmas." http://thehistoryofrome.typepad.com/the_history_of_rome/2008/11/18-a-history-of-rome-christmas.html
"He Is Risen!" LDS Hymns No. 199.

Clouds and Stars

A few days ago, I looked up at the night sky and had my breath taken away by the hundreds of stars that, even from the center of the city I live in, I could see.

Photo cred--Hubble Space Telescope

Today, the sky is so cloudy and grey that at times I can't even make out the mountains only a few miles away. Seeing stars would be completely impossible; looking up at the mass of grey, I could make myself imagine that there are no stars.

At times, I feel like I am able to look up into heaven and see God's promises for me shining as clearly as the stars. I am able to feel the peace of His assurances, and know with an eternal perspective that everything really will work out alright. Those are beautiful, sacred moments which I treasure.

At other times, as much as I strive to feel the way I do in those precious moments, all I can see is a wall of clouds a mile thick. If I let myself, I could start thinking that I had imagined those sweet assurances.

Metaphorically speaking, then, do the stars stop shining when I can't see them? When my temporal, earthly viewpoint isn't a good enough vantage to enjoy their light, are they still there?

I think the answer is yes. No amount of fog, smog, or anything else that might cover the sky could possibly dim the light of those fiery giants burning billions of miles away, unaffected by any of this world's climate changes and weather patterns.

In much the same way, no amount of worldly confusion or uncertainty could ever affect the promises God has made. The stars cannot be dimmed; their creator is even more sure.