Banging on an Empty Barrel

I suffer a bit of distress since returning to my home ward.  For more than six years I met for church at the local juvenile detention center.  There,

 "... we talk(ed) of Christ, we rejoice(ed) in Christ, we preach(ed) of Christ, we prophesy(ed) of Christ, and we wr(o)te according to our prophecies, that (we and those) children (might) know to what source (we might) look for a remission of (our) sins."  (See 2 Nephi 25:26)

There we centered all of our teaching around that one central theme.  If we spoke of the pioneers, it was an opportunity to show them how the Savior and His Atonement enabled them to deal with and overcome great hardship.  If we spoke of captivity, bondage and addiction, it was to show them how Christ and His Infinite Sacrifice made it possible for us to obtain freedom.  If we spoke about our personal relationships with others, we were able to show them how our Perfect Brother stands between us and our offender, having already paid the price of his transgression, asking us to forgive and quit seeking revenge.  If we spoke of joy it was underlaid with rejoicing that Christ is the giver of joy.  If we spoke of choices we spoke of He who provided that liberty to us, and He who allows us to recover from the poor choices we inevitably will make.  If we spoke of love, we spoke of the Source and Epitome of love.  If we spoke of fear, we comforted the fearful by testifying of the One they could always trust.  If we spoke of sorrow, we spoke of He who suffered each of our sorrows.  If we spoke of pain, we spoke of He who suffered each of our pains.  If we spoke of prayer, we spoke of He who bears our pleas and expressions of gratitude to the throne of God.  If we spoke of food, or volleyball, or music, or rain, we spoke of He who provides all good gifts in this wonderful world and who gives us the strength and light to enjoy them. 


In our ward we don't seem to do that, much.  My heart longs to hear of Christ, to rejoice in the Atonement that has set me free.  Most of the time, instead I hear nice talks and lessons that are dressed up like pretty barrels.  Barrels that speak wonderful words on topics of leadership, commitment, covenants, honesty, work for our kindred dead, charity, food storage and on and on.  If these subjects are addressed without the application of the Atonement of Christ, to me, they sound like someone banging on an empty barrel.  Every barrel (or subject) we present to the Latter-day Saints, ought to be filled with the Atonement of Christ.  Otherwise, to me, the treatment seems empty, hollow, echoing of the conspicuous absence of He, upon whom all our obligations, possibilities, opportunities, abilities, hopes, dreams and promises lie. 

There is no topic, in Heaven or Earth that ought to be addressed absent that most magnificent, universal, infinite Gift, or the majestic, sweet Giver.  Doing otherwise, to me, seems to presume to take too much credit and expectation upon ourselves, who too often forget our own nothingness before Him.  If we ever amount to anything, it will only be because of Him.

Sheep Herding or Shepherding?

Though things have come a long long way since I was a child; if I were to make an overall assessment of the state of things at the local level in the Church, I'd still have to say that we are maintaining a culture of Sheep Herding.

Sheep Herding is distinguished by the method used to move the sheep from one destination to another.  The Sheep Herder drives the sheep from behind, commonly using dogs to bark and nip at their heels.  The Shepherd leads from the front inviting the trusting sheep to follow where he leads.

I do not doubt the sincerity of the Sheep Herders among us.  Their intent is to take us to the same destination as the Shepherds.  I just question the method.  During the past week I have had conversations with three individuals who are balking at the prospect of full participation in Church activity.  Each of them cited circumstances that make activity awkward, if not down right repulsive.  In short they have sore heels.  Their natural inclination is to avoid the Sheep Herder and his dogs and take their chances in the wilderness.  I also had a conversation with a Sheep Herder, who, observing a Sheep willing to chance the wilderness, said, "Let him!  I haven't got time to go chasing after him in his foolishness.  I've informed him of his duty; my duty is discharged!"

To my mind, this is a bit of Babylon creeping around in the culture of Zion.  Most of us in the work-a-day world are exposed to employers to ply tactics of Management By Objective.  Most of them misapply MBO as it was intended.  So, most of us are over exposed to a failed Leadership technique, which we despise, but having seen nothing better, continue to use.

The scenario is this:  Management establishes and assigns the objectives.  Labor is expected to produce the objectives and is judged, rewarded, punished or praised based upon the level to which the objectives are met.  If and when the objectives are met, Management ups the ante by extending the objectives to a higher, and then higher standards.  The temptation, as money is the object, is to create the objectives around productivity.  Management wants the Golden Egg.  Trouble is, most commonly, they want ever more eggs, while having no regard, or appropriate objectives, that apply to the proper care and feeding of the Goose.  (See Stephen R. Covey, 7 Habit of Highly Effective People.)

Too often we bring MBO to church with us and apply it to our callings.  We set attendance objectives, Home and Visiting Teaching objectives, service objectives, Temple attendance, and on and on.  Doing so, we seem to know no other means of achieving them than barking, threatening, scolding, and demanding.  The numbers become the Golden Egg and we have forgotten the Goose.  We are seeking our own Salvation instead of the Salvation of the Sheep.  We are quick to justify our positions with examples and scriptures.  I mean was Enos not using the Sheep Herding technique when he said:

23 And there was nothing save it was exceeding harshness, preaching and prophesying of wars, and contentions, and destructions, and continually reminding them of death, and the duration of eternity, and the judgments and the power of God, and all these things—stirring them up continually to keep them in the fear of the Lord. I say there was nothing short of these things, and exceedingly great plainness of speech, would keep them from going down speedily to destruction. And after this manner do I write concerning them.

Sounds fun doesn't it?  I remember as a boy this was the primary method of keeping us on the straight and narrow.  Seems like every six months they trotted out Brother T. to scare the Dickens out of us with his hell-fire and damnation, end of the world, doom and gloom gospel.  Hardly sounds like good news to me.  When we were in Primary we loved Jesus, but by the time we finished High School we were scared to death of Him.

Sheep Herders, then and now, cannot conceive of a people who might, of their own volition, choose to follow the voice of The Shepherd.  In their subtle self-righteousness they assume that they are the few, chosen to save the rest.  They dare not turn and lead, for fear no one will follow.  Now, perhaps the Nephites, who were still laboring under the Law of Moses, needed such an approach; but these are days when God has entrusted the fullness of His Gospel to us.  Days in which the Melchizedek Priesthood is entrusted to every worthy man.  Days populated with the valiant who were saved to come forth at such a time.  They will follow, it is in them.  If you don't believe it conduct an experiment upon my words, turn and lead in patience, meekness, gentleness, kindness, long-suffering, persuasion, love and faith.  See if it is not true.  It took that very experiment to persuade me, and I was amazed at the results.  I have yet to be moved upon by the Holy Ghost to reprove with sharpness and suppose that to be a rare moment in the life of a Shepherd.

The numbers are not the objective.  Or they should not be.  Numbers are nice for measuring progress and accounting for our efforts, but they must never be the objective.  We are about caring for the sheep, that is the objective.  If one of the sheep is balking, or lagging behind are we too blind to see that it is hurting in some way?  Are we unwilling to see to its needs?  Are we so set on accomplishing our goals that we see that sheep as an hindrance, annoyance, or obstacle?  Are we unwilling to fetch it from the brambles and carry it upon our shoulders for a while?

Now, fussing over this during the night I spoke with my daughter.  She pointed out that I was, in my frustration, turning into a Sheep Herder, ready to nip at the heels of my fellow Shepherds.  It was quite a splash of cold water.  It is a tendency that lies in all of us.  Foolishly, in defense of the Sheep I had allowed myself to forget the fact that the Shepherds/Sheep Herders are also Sheep.  Sheep in need of nurturing and love, in need of being led by the voice of the Shepherd.  It is a cultural change we all must make.  It is one we will make, for we have been promised Zion.  Let us each turn and lead.  Let us each return and nurture.  When they trust that we only wish to love and care for them, when they stop fearing and avoiding us, soon enough, they will follow.

Father's Day

My youngest sent this to me for Father's Day.  It made my day.  It needed a little help too.  I got up for Church and developed a nose bleed.  An hour later it still hadn't stopped.  So I sit here in the recliner, feeling sorry for myself and this little video appears on Facebook.  Now my eyes and nose are running.

Thank you darlin', I love you too!

The Trouble With Should

The trouble with should is sometimes we shouldn't.  We have a tendency in LDS Culture to list for each other the things we should be doing.  Most Sacrament Meeting talks and Gospel Doctrine lessons develop into lists of things we should do and often even into litanies of where, when and how often.

Recently in Priesthood meeting we were all apprised of how often we each should attend the Temple.  As if each of our lives was the same and that no excuse would do for not meeting the requirement.  Now, this zealous advocate of temple attendance did not cite his source for such a schedule, but presented it as though our very Eternal Salvation depended upon compliance.  You must realize that we old High Priests are about worn out when it comes to such demands.  I could see it run off our backs like water off a duck.  This only increased the pitch and intensity of our fellow's demand, for he too could see our reaction.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I too am an advocate of Temple attendance.  I too believe that most of us fail to attend as often as the Lord would like.  But, I also realize that a few of us attend too often, driven there by guilt and shame, rather than drawn there by love and devotion.  Can you see how different Temple worship might be if you were attracted there by love rather than driven there by guilt?  Couple that with the very real possibility that you or I might occasionally have something more important to attend to than even the Temple.

I am not about setting us up for excuses to neglect our duty.  No, I am actually advocating for doing our duty. I just hope we will learn to discern between the manipulative demands of a fellow Saint and the kindly invitation of a loving Father.  Sometimes the gulf between the two is alarmingly broad.  Our duty is to God, not to folks who presume to know what God wants for us individually.  These are folks who assume that the prescription for their glasses will also allow everyone else to see with equal clarity.  For some reason, these seem to be the most zealous.  They seem to say, "You obviously don't read as well as I.  I'm sure it is because you're not wearing my glasses."  When we tell them we see just fine, or that their glasses blur our vision, or that their glasses give us migraines, they seem to say, "Nonsense!  They work just fine for me, how could they not work for you as well!"

Trouble is, I see many in the Kingdom, who are going about wearing someone else's glasses much of the time.  They seem exhausted, burned out, and of course some have just taken the glasses off and gone home having abandoned hope that they can get it right.  Had they been taught to seek the optometrist who could prescribe lenses especially for them and their particular needs, many, if not all might be joyfully serving with light and hopeful hearts instead of trudging along with a strain much more devastating than eye strain.

We believe in revelation in the Church.  We believe that God will guide our steps and direct our paths.  But we, all too often, go about treating one another like we're the only one who gets revelation and that we are somehow authorized to receive revelation for one another.  True testimony, true trust in our Father in Heaven is an individual thing.  How dare we presume to know what is best for another.  That is, speaking of fellow Saints.  It is one thing to follow the Prophet, who is authorized to receive revelation for us.  It is quite another to follow Brother So-and-So, who is not.

When Saints write Salt Lake City and ask for specific direction in their lives, the Brethren always refer us to our local leaders or directly to the Lord.  Why is it that so many ordinary members presume to give specific direction that even the prophets and apostles are loath to provide.

I once had a spiritual emergency transpire at home.  It occurred just prior to our Quarterly Stake Priesthood meeting.  It had been my intention to attend the meeting.  In fact I was so set upon attendance that I quite curtly put the problem aside, dressed for the meeting and headed out the door.  The Spirit whispered a number of times that I must stay at home and attend to a priority the Lord had set for me.  I, however, was insistent upon compliance with a priority someone else had set for me.  The Spirit persisted and half way out the driveway, I shifted gears, parked the car and went back into my home.  Later, I was approached by a rather unhappy leader, who, pointing out my absence at the meeting exclaimed with disdain that I, "should have been there."  Not wanting to seem rebellious, I quietly pointed out that, "No, I shouldn't have been, the Lord had another, more pressing errand for me."  My answer was inconceivable to him.  He considered it his duty to make me feel guilty for my transgression and still, after many years, seeks to ride herd on my behavior.

I love that man.  I know his intentions are good.  I admire his service in the Kingdom.  But, I also have observed that he seems increasingly frustrated at the response he gets from his fellow Saints and how isolated he has become in his sense of righteousness.

When we are called upon to "stand a little taller," to "lengthen our stride," by prophets we love, we are also expected to take the implied latitude and personal initiative those statements allow and seek personal, spiritual direction in how to do that.

When you have 4.85 children and your husband has been out of town all week on business and the fridge is empty and the Relief Society calls for a pan of funeral potatoes, maybe the Spirit will whisper, "You should."  But please don't feel guilty if He whispers, "You shouldn't."

Breather

I've been over-wound like a clock spring lately.  It has made me less productive, instead of energetic.  Thankfully, Sweetie remedied that by taking me out of town for a couple of days.  We had an errand, but mostly it was a chance to decompress.  Getting out of town actually wound things up a couple of pops and driving tired (not sleepy) didn't help, especially in city traffic.  I don't think the relief began to reveal itself until we found ourselves sitting in the shade outside Panda Express, with full stomachs and a little time on our hands.

From the patio we could see the still snow covered Wasatch in all it's glory.  The air was cool, clear and gentle.  We were far enough south in Salt Lake Valley that we could see Lady Timpanogos lying peacefully off by herself.  Somehow her majesty comforts me from every angle.  She speaks of independence, solitude, peace, and assurance.

We had already stopped by Barnes and Noble and selected a couple of books.  From there we'd headed up Mill Creek to find a shady spot to read while the stream burbled by.  Instead we found congestion, distraction and the creek roaring in fury.  The biggest distraction was a man who'd taken his five year old down the water to play.  This after four children have already drown in the heavy spring runoff.  Too tired, too distracted to read we gave up quite earlier than we'd expected.  Funny how sitting beside a busy street with stomachs full of plump shrimp and luscious chicken we found what we'd sought in the "wilderness."

At Mark's we were primed to kick back in his overstuffed recliners, and mutter our contentment around an episode of Blue Bloods.  A rerun we hadn't seen, amazingly!

Then, it was early to bed, exhausted, in his cool basement, where I slept through the night for the first time in months.  (It's 2:43 AM right now.  Yup, I'm back home and up in the night.  Bad dream about self torture.  Not in the mood to make interpretations.  So I thought I go back a day to decompress some more while the memories are still fresh.)

We slept in much of the morning.  Sweetie longer than I.  Long enough for me to get hooked on Amy Tan's wonderful The Hundred Secret Senses; making me wonder if I'm carrying the load of generations, not just my own.

We grabbed a quick bite at Wendy's which miraculously was near a fabric store with good prices on fat quarters.  Sweetie only selected four.  She's so much more moderate than I.

I have quite recently discovered that my great great grandmother Maria Weber came to the States from Switzerland along with my great grand parents.  I had always supposed she'd stayed in the old country as her husband did.  After traveling to Michigan, Ontario and Quebec seeking the graves of my predecessors I have thought it silly not to have visited Maria's.  We drove to the Salt Lake Cemetery, which I had not seen before as it lies up in the Avenues, off the beaten track.  A lovely place it is.  The clerk in the Sexton's office was wonderfully helpful and set me promptly on a course to discover her headstone.  A simple little marker calls her Mary and indicates she lived from 1822 until 1903.  She appears to be buried next to her daughter Eliza.  More on that it a separate post.  Give me a couple of days.  I've got to get some sleep and a funeral taken care of.

On the way to cemetery we stopped at Les Madeline's for some Kouey Amans and as usual, they were sold out.  We did grab a couple of raspberry buttons and two rosemary cookies for the road though.  Without much more ado we headed up the canyon for home intending to stop in Heber for lunch.  Steve had informed us that some world traveler and so "qualified," connoisseur had recommended The Side Track Cafe as the place to eat in the area.  He was not wrong.  We stopped in and enjoyed Janine's J9 Garlic Burger with Cry Sauce (as it is hotter (and better) than Fry Sauce).  We also enjoyed Janine.  A rustic little character in cut offs and a T-shirt.  Enough to cover most of her tats.  Janeen learned to cook from her Italian Grandmother and her Filipina Mother.  But her culinary style is all her own.  We struck up a conversation and wound up with her full attention for well over half an hour.  She taught Sweetie the ins and outs of Ceviche and coached me on the finer elements of great black beans.  She told us stories of  her mother's captivation by the Japanese in WWII and her heroics while nine months pregnant.  She pointed out a photo of her mom in which she actually does look like a Filipina Annette Funicello.  I could see neither Filipina, nor Annette in J9.  She also has a photo of four gangster uncles hanging on the wall.  They looked like quintessential Mafioso and like you'd like to eat where they ate (if you could breathe the air.)  Again, when there's time, I'll devote a little more time to The Side Track Cafe and it's unique proprietor.  I expect she'll still know our names six months from now when we stop in again.  That is if we can wait that long.

I had to get home to a Meeting at seven, but that afforded time to divert from Highway 40 at the Tabby turn off and to drive down the Duchesne River canyon and observe the flooding.  Lots of fields are underwater, but so far no homes or buildings seem too threatened.  The "Goldy Locks" weather is just right for easing the snow pack down slowly.  Hope it lasts or Duchesne City will most certainly get wet.

I made my Meeting, which also relieves a lot of stress and while sitting there had a bit of an epiphany.  When you're immersed in stress, you can't dry off until you get out of the water.  Thanks Sweetie for pulling my out of the water and for tossing me a towel.

P.S.  The Raspberry Buttons were heavenly and the Rosemary Cookies, unbelievably good!