With apologies to Elder Neal A. Maxwell for daring to modify and enlarge something he once said, I too suggest that 'one's life ' cannot be both faith-filled and stress-free.' It simply will not work 'to glide naively through life,' saying as we sip another glass of lemonade, 'Lord, give me all thy choicest virtues, but be certain not to give me grief, nor sorrow, nor pain, nor opposition. Please do not let anyone dislike me or betray me, and above all, do not ever let me feel forsaken by Thee or those I love. In fact, Lord, be careful to keep me from all the experiences that made Thee divine. And then, when the rough sledding by everyone else is over, please let me come and dwell with Thee, where I can boast about how similar our strengths and our characters are as I float along on my cloud of comfortable Christianity.'12 My beloved brothers and sisters, Christianity is comforting, but it is often not comfortable. The path to holiness and happiness here and hereafter is a long and sometimes rocky one. It takes time and tenacity to walk it. But, of course, the reward for doing so is monumental. This truth is taught clearly and persuasively in the 32nd chapter of Alma in the Book of Mormon. There this great high priest teaches that if the word of God is planted in our hearts as a mere seed, and if we care enough to water, weed, nourish, and encourage it, it will in the future bear fruit 'which is most precious, ' sweet above all that is sweet,' the consuming of which leads to a condition of no more thirst and no more hunger.13 Many lessons are taught in this remarkable chapter, but central to them all is the axiom that the seed has to be nourished and we must wait for it to mature; we '[look] forward with an eye of faith to the fruit thereof.'14 Our harvest, Alma says, comes 'by and by.'15 Little wonder that he concludes his remarkable instruction by repeating three times a call for diligence and patience in nurturing the word of God in our hearts, 'waiting,' as he says, with 'long-suffering ' for the tree to bring forth fruit unto you.'
Perhaps the tilt to the telestial occurs because many feel less compromised when they are led carefully down the paved, gently descending, wide way, on which there is no exhilaration, whereas in climbing up the straight and narrow way, one seems to notice every chuckhole and all the loose gravel. In any event, to ignore the hard doctrines deprives us of much-needed doctrinal rations for the rigorous journey. The lyrics "Come, let us anew our journey pursue" (Hymns, no. 17) suggest getting on with our impending mortal experiences, some of the most glorious of which will be adventures of the mind and heart as we ponder and explore new truths—truths that both penetrate us and envelop us.
The future duties to be given to some of us in the worlds to come by an omniscient God will require of us an earned sense of esteem as well as proof of our competency. Thus the tests given to us here are given not because God is in doubt as to the outcome, but because we need to grow in order to be able to serve with full effectiveness in the eternity to come. Further, to be untested and unproven is also to be unaware of all that we are. If we are unknowing of our possibilities, with what could we safely be entrusted? Could we in ignorance of our capacities trust ourselves? Could others then be entrusted to us? Thus the relentless love of our Father in heaven is such that in His omniscience, He will not allow the cutting short some of the brief experiences we are having here. To do so would be to deprive us of everlasting experiences and great joy there. What else would an omniscient and loving Father do, even if we plead otherwise? He must at times say no. Furthermore, since there was no exemption from suffering for Christ, how can there be one for us? Do we really want immunity from adversity? Especially when certain kinds of suffering can aid our growth in this life? To deprive ourselves of those experiences, much as we might momentarily like to, would be to deprive ourselves of the outcomes over which we shouted with anticipated joy when this life's experiences were explained to us so long ago, in the world before we came here.
In order for "all these things" to make sense, we must come to understand that God has "all sense." Only then can we repose with confidence in His perfect love!
Is not our struggling amid suffering and chastening in a way like the efforts of the baby chicken still in the egg? It must painfully and patiently make its own way out of the shell. To help the chick by breaking the egg for it could be to kill it. Unless it struggles itself to break outside its initial constraints, it may not have the strength to survive thereafter.
One can pray and yet not really pray. Prayers can be routinized and made very superficial. When this happens, there is very little communication and very little growth. Yet, given the times in which we live, improving our prayers should be one of our deepest desires if we are genuinely serious about growing spiritually. Prayer may not be a hard doctrine, but it can be a very deep and soul-satisfying experience. It is the means by which we can draw close to our Heavenly Father and understand better His deep doctrines.
Jesus' tutoring but disapproving response was: "Ye know not what ye ask." (Matthew 20:22.) Clearly, when our prayers are uninspired, we petition for things we should not ask for, even though we do so innocently. This is, in effect, what we do when we pray and "ask amiss." (James 4:3.) When we ask amiss, God, being perfect, must reject our petitions: "And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, which is right, believing that ye shall receive, behold it shall be given unto you." (3 Nephi 18:20. Italics added.) The task is to draw close enough to the Lord that we progress to the point where we petition Him according to His will, not ours. "And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us." (1 John 5:14.) In modern revelations the Lord has declared His willingness to grant us the requests contained in our petitions if what we ask for is expedient for us. (D&C 88:64-65.) When we become sufficiently purified and cleansed from sin, we can ask what we will in the name of Jesus "and it shall be done." (D&C 50:29.) The Lord even promises us that when one reaches a certain spiritual condition, "it shall be given you what you shall ask." (D&C 50:30.)
When we pray, we are not conveying any information to God that He does not already have. Nor, when we confess our sins before Him, is it news to Him that we have misbehaved. It is vital, therefore, that we open our souls to Him and tell Him what our concerns are now, as well as acknowledge what we now are, for this is a part of the process of aligning ourselves with His will. We cannot, for the purposes of real prayer, hurriedly dress our words and attitudes in tuxedos when our shabby life is in rags. More than we realize, being honest with God in our prayers helps us to be more honest with ourselves. Furthermore, some of us actually feel we are too good for a petitionary prayer, especially when life is going reasonably well. It is part of our childish resentment of our dependency on God. We are also sometimes too proud to pray over small things, and thus we get out of practice. Then the moment of agony comes.
As to the questions asked—even by faithful Saints—such as, "If what is going to happen is 'all set,' why pray?," the answer is that God foresees, but He does not compromise our agency. All the outcomes are not, for our purposes, "all set." True, God's foreseeing includes our prayers, our fasting, our faith, and the results that will thereby be achieved. But until our mortal actions occur and our decisions are made, things are not "all set." The Father foresaw the Atonement, but the Atonement was not wrought until the very moment of Christ's death when He gave up His spirit, which He had the power to retain.
When one decides whether or not to deal with hard doctrines, the tendency is to put them off or to be put off by them. Not only are they in some respects puzzling, but they may even offend our mortal pride. The hardness is usually not in their complexity, but in the deep demands these doctrines make of us. They are actually harder to accept than to understand, for there is a breathtaking simplicity about them.
It is through true prayer that we can refine and adjust our desires to those of the Lord's so that we do not "ask amiss." In prayer we can actually learn more than we imagine about His will for us. In prayer we can learn more how to seek the Spirit, so that even our very prayers will be inspired.
In those moments our desires of the day may have to be sacrificed to our needs in our endless tomorrows. A mortal life may need to be "shortened" by twenty years as we might view it—but if so, it may be done in order for special services to be rendered by that individual in the spirit world, services that will benefit thousands of new neighbors with whom that individual will live in all of eternity. Perhaps this reality is yet another reason and reminder why we are urged to pray only for "our daily bread," for disciples must be portable. Our omniloving and omniscient Father will release us when it is best for us to be released. But each such release of a righteous person is also a call to new labors!
To use the supposed errors of others, including those of the Brethren, as an excuse for our lessened devotion is a most grave error! All of us are in the process of becoming—including prophets and General Authorities.
There are even those who refuse to follow the Brethren because these individuals have overidentified with a single doctrine, principle, or practice; sadly, they exclude all other counsel, which leads to a dangerous spiritual imbalance. The difficulty with such individuals is that they have a strange sense of justification about that which they are doing. In their intensity they lack, of course, the spiritual symmetry that comes from pursuing, in a balanced way, all the commandments of God. These individuals are so hardened in their devotion to one thing that they are unable to follow the Brethren in all things. It is as if the adversary, upon seeing someone get religious, skillfully deflects their devotion so that it becomes a damaging and not a developing thing. We are responsible for our reactions when we see imperfections in others.
We may, therefore, see the imperfections in leaders in the Church. How we react to these manifestations of mortality is the key to our salvation—not theirs!
It is strange that when one is remodeling a portion of his house, he expects visitors to be tolerant of improvements that are so obviously underway. Yet while one is remodeling his character, we often feel obligated to call attention to the messy signs of remodeling, or feel called upon to remember aloud things as they were. Forgetting is such a necessary part of forgiving.
It even helps us to be pressed thusly by prophets to choose. John the Beloved, in writing to the Church at Laodicea, said, "I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot." (Revelation 3:15.) Many naively assume that it is always better to be lukewarm than to be cold. But lukewarmness can reflect a stubborn spirit of self-sufficiency that keeps some people from following God's leaders. Worse, lukewarmness keeps some from feeling cold chills, which chills can induce a few to a search for warmth and truth!
The time will come when we will thank Him for saying no to us with regard to some of our petitions. Happily, God in His omniscience can distinguish between our surface needs (over which we often pray most fervently) and our deep and eternal needs. He can distinguish what we ask for today and place it in relationship to what we need for all eternity. He will bless us, according to our everlasting good, if we are righteous.