186: Suffering, Part 3

This is part three of a series looking at the role of suffering in the life of the Savior, and how our own suffering brings us closer to Him. Doctrine and Covenants section 93, verse 1, says: VERILY, thus saith the Lord: It shall come to pass that every soul who forsaketh his sins and cometh unto me, and calleth on my name, and obeyeth my voice, and keepeth my commandments, shall see my face and know that I am (see also T&C 93:1). Every soul who forsaketh his sins—you’re not gonna get past your sins until God forgives you. But you need to awaken to the fact that you possess them, and turn from them. Because turning from them is repentance—turning to face Him. You can still have a load that needs to be dropped because we are all heavy laden with sin. But forsaking your sins means that you would prefer Him over everything else there is. So turn and face Him. Cometh unto me—well, the only way you can leave that load behind is to get down in prayer, seeking Him, and asking Him to free you from the load, and to allow you (as Alma recounts in his 36th chapter of the book of Alma: the terrible agony that he felt and calling upon God to be redeemed and then, when God answered, he could remember the pain—the distress that he had—was equaled by the joy and the exhilaration he felt on the other side of that)—being cleansed. Calleth on my name—you have to do that. And obeyeth my voice—that would include not merely the things that were given to us by Joseph Smith that you may be neglecting, but obeying His voice in what He tells you here and now, because your agenda is different from mine. Your needs are different from mine. Your responsibilities are different from mine. You have your own family; you have your own ward; you have your own neighbors; you have your own issues. Fathers and sons, mothers and daughters—you’re part of a community somewhere. And inside of that, all of you need to listen to the voice of God because He loves everyone. He loves that eccentric aunt that you just dread having come around. And you can't, for the life of you, understand why she thinks cloves should be poked into a turkey on Thanksgiving. And you wonder if maybe there shouldn’t be a procedure that more easily confines her to someplace where they administer psychotropic drugs [audience laughter]. God loves her as much as He loves you. God loves all of us. And the agenda that you have, and the people you can affect, and the relief that you can administer, and the needs that go in front of your eyes day by day are uniquely yours. And the relief that you can grant to those around you—that's yours. It was given to you by God as a gift. Don't harden your heart. I was reading about the problems that the early saints experienced in that 1857/1856/ 1858 timeframe—from the diaries; not the official history, not from the stuff that is made public; these are the private diaries and journals—I was reading from that in sacrament (we went home, and I attended my church meetings this morning), and I literally cried as I read what they were called upon to go through. I am very disinclined to be critical and non-appreciative of the fact that those who went before us suffered as they suffered, in order to preserve and make possible for us today the programs, the scriptures—the fact that they would not allow the restoration, through Joseph, to lapse into silence and neglect. It doesn't matter that they made mistakes. We make mistakes, too—every one of us. If you'd lived a perfect life, you wouldn't be here. The fact is, we all are broken, and we are all in need of repair. Come to Him, because the only repairman that exists in the universe—inside of this matrix—is Christ, whose assignment it is to repair and redeem and to heal us. Obey His voice, no matter how much it may disagree with the flow of that that goes on all around you. People thought I was a madman (teaching gospel doctrine) when we got to the King Benjamin talk about not allowing beggars to go by and neglecting them. And I got push- back, every four years, when we got through that material because I’m saying, “You don't judge the beggars.” You really don't have any right to do that. And then you have Paul's statement about being careful to entertain strangers because angels sometimes come among you unawares. Let's assume, for argument’s sake, that John lingers still. And let's assume, for argument’s sake, that John would like to know your heart. How might he do that best? I would suggest, coming to you as a beggar, smelling foul and in need, asking you for relief is the perfect way to find out if that same spirit animates you as animated King Benjamin, when King Benjamin said, ‘Don’t suffer the beggar to put up their petition to you in vain because are we not all beggars?’ And of course, that’s not merely a rhetorical question. Are we not all beggars? Well, it's self-evident—yeah. Obeyeth my voice and keepeth my commandments—“My commandments,” given to the Prophet Joseph Smith, entrusted to you, should be respected by you; given by the voice of the Spirit to you, asking you to help those around you, because the relief that people need sometimes can only come from one source, and that is you; under the inspiration of the Spirit, relieving the burdens of those around you. Why do you think God cares about the widows and the orphans and the poor and the infirm? And who at Bountiful appreciated His coming the most? Was it those that were called to preside, whose names are given to us because they were recorded in the record? Or was it those that He said—the nameless group—‘Bring them up here, and let me heal them’? And all of those in need of healing were brought forward and healed. We read the record and say, “I got a name here; I got a Timothy. I got a name here; I got a Nephi. I got a name here, and this must be someone big and great and important.” But unto whom did the Lord minister more? And who was it in Bountiful who appreciated more what the Lord had come to do? Be like your Master. Do what you can for those around you who are infirm. They are here in abundance—the brokenhearted, the families that are in need. If you want to be saved, help the Lord save others—not by preaching and clamoring and demanding that they view the world like you do, but by giving them a hand. Your most powerful sermon can be in the effort that you make and the time that you take to let people know that you care about them. If you would like to repent of your sins, take a look around at those in need, and do what you can for them, because you’ve begun the first step. When your heart is like Him, then you open up so that He can enter in. And when your heart is unlike Him, well, there's no room except if He break it—which He will do. You do these things, you shall see my face and know that I am—know; not believe, but know. So, according to the Lectures on Faith, if you would be saved, you have to be exactly, precisely what Christ is and nothing else. Now, you’ve been told all your life that that’s an impossibility. Well, it’s an impossibility, in one sense, and it’s a mandatory requirement, in another sense. It’s an impossibility because, as it turns out, we all err. All of us err; we always have. And that’s what the atonement was designed to fix—because He picks that burden up, and He carries it for us. But the fact that He will carry that burden for us doesn’t relieve us—from the moment that He’s taken that away—from then going forward to do good. You can be Christ-like. You can administer relief to those around you. You can, as He said, clothe the naked, feed the hungry, visit those who are in prison. Some of the most profound, deepest, spiritual experiences that I have had recounted to me by people I know, came from people who go out to the prison in Bluffdale and hold family home evenings with prison inmates. That ministration/that service elevates the servant. Their heart gets moved with compassion. Your heart needs to be like Christ’s—moved with compassion for others. And the way you do that is imitative at first. And then it is informed by the experience later. What begins as imitation, and merely that, finds room within to have genuine compassion for the needs of others. Christ is the prototype, but you can be like Him. There are godly people walking around; many of them are elderly. Many of them have long since forgotten their own needs, and they spend their lives in service of others. You can find that even within the church with Relief Society Presidents. You can find that within the church with people who do legitimate-needs home teaching. You don’t have to go find another church in which to serve. You don't have to find new neighbors, and you don’t have to have a new family. That eccentric group of people, that tribe into which you were born—you belong there. You belong there as an example—as an example of love and compassion. And you know, the reason why (in the Sermon on the Mount) He says they’re going to speak all manner of evil against you falsely, for my [name’s] sake (Matthew 5:11; see also Matthew 3:14 RE) is not because of anything you’ve done. It’s because down here, no one believes. No one believes the genuine thing exists. Everyone's heart has been broken; everyone has been disappointed. Everyone says, “The man I thought was going to be so great has turned out, instead, to be just another broken ship-wreck.” Their skepticism of you has been earned in this environment by everyone they’ve ever met. Therefore, you’ve got to be different. And you’ve got to expect their broken heart is going to be taken out on you until you, at last—and it may require your life to do it—until you, at last, show that faith can yet exist here. Let it exist here in you. Let it live and breathe in you. You needn't look for another life/another opportunity somewhere else far away to go. It’s right here; it’s in your lap; it’s in your family; it’s in your h