The One With the Amazing Gift of Grace

The definition of grace is “seemingly effortless beauty.” Expressed in that way, who would not aspire to grace? But it is so much more. Grace is an integral part of the Atonement. It is the process by which God perfects us… rubs off our rough edges… endows us with spiritual gifts which, one by one, make us more like the Savior. I love this quote by Van C. Gessel, Dean of the College of Humanities, BYU: “I am convinced that if we truly grasped the meaning of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, there would be significant changes in the way we view ourselves, the way we treat ourselves when we make mistakes, and the way we interact with those around us who are less than perfect.” He gave this thought-provoking devotional where he talked about how we have to “feel” the Atonement, not just as a spiritual event, but in our very hearts. He proposes that one of the reasons we have our amazing bodies is so that we can experience the Atonement in a physical way. Only then do we let our hearts be changed, and know the power of repentance and of forgiveness. I love the idea of that, have felt it myself, and don’t really know how to even express it. But the music speaks where my words fail. The music always speaks. At least it does to me.

Happy Easter... or The One With the Soldier Song

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this song. I had a great experience writing it about a year ago, but then when I tried to record it last summer I realized the song just wasn’t good enough, and I ended up tossing it in a drawer for several months. When Tandy had to sing for a baptism a couple of months ago, I suddenly thought of it and dug it out. What was I thinking about when I wrote this? So many things! Jeffrey R. Holland, Band of Brothers, the Atonement, missionaries and the Marine Crucible... it was a lot of inspiration. There is a lot of me in this song, for better or for worse.

I wrote “Right Here Where I Stand” for a man to sing, and although I think it is very touching the way Tandy sings it, she and I both agree that it should still be sung by a male vocalist, if I decide to use it. In the meantime, though, I wanted to post this special recording as an Easter gift, and expression of my love and appreciation for the Savior. Please leave a comment if you enjoy it.

Right Here Where I Stand

Once the Lord of all the earth
Descended lower than us all.
His power spent to purchase grace
No one left to heed his call.
At the last, he stood there, left alone
With only love that has no end.
But as long as I can draw a breath,
He’ll never stand alone again.

I will stand and wait for him.
I will never be ashamed.
I will stand and wait for him
And bear his holy name.
My heart is not troubled
And I am not afraid.
I know that he will find me
Right here where I stand.
Right here where I stand.

You know it is not easy
This war we fight each day.
We are strangers in this foreign land
Soldiers caught up in the fray.
And some days I grow so weary
Until I think I cannot fight
But then I see him suffering there for me
And struggle on with all my might.

In the fiery wind of battle
I can hear the desperate cries
Of wounded men who wander, blind
From smoke that clouds their eyes.
If they can only hold on
And hear the Savior’s call
I will find my brothers and carry them.
I may bleed, but I will never fall.

I will stand and wait for him.
I will never be ashamed.
I will stand and wait for him
And bear his holy name.
My heart is not troubled
And I am not afraid.
I know that he will find me,
He’ll come again in all his glory
And when he comes that day, he’ll find me
Right here where I stand.
Right here where I stand.
Right here where
I stand.

Credits:
* If you click on Jeffrey R. Holland’s name above, you can read the talk that was part of my inspiration for this song. I just love it.
* The painting I featured is “Awaiting the Command” by Jon McNaughton. Go to his website here and click on symbolism. It is incredible!
* Tandy is currently in the MTC in Provo, Utah, learning Japanese as she is serving a full-time mission for the Lord in Kobe, Japan. I love and miss her.

The One For the Fourth

This isn’t exactly for Independence Day. But I was thinking about soldiers... and why we care about independence in the first place. This is one of my latest. I hope you like it.

Right Here Where I Stand

Once the Lord of all the earth
Descended lower than us all.
His power spent to purchase grace
No one left to heed his call.
At the last, he stood there, left alone
With only love that has no end.
But as long as I can draw a breath,
He’ll never stand alone again.

I will stand
And I will wait for him.
I will never be ashamed.
I will stand and wait for him
And bear his holy name.
My heart is not troubled
I am not afraid.
I know he will find me
Right here where I stand.

You know it is not easy
This war we fight each day.
We are strangers in this foreign land
Soldiers caught up in the fray.
And some days I grow weary
Until I think I cannot fight
But then I see him suffering there for me
And struggle on with all my might.

In the fiery wind of battle
I can hear the desperate cries
Of wounded men who wander, blind
From smoke that clouds their eyes.
If they can only hold on
And hear the Savior’s call
I will find my brothers and carry them.
I may bleed, but I will never fall.

I will stand
And I will wait for him.
I will never be ashamed.
I will stand and wait for him
And bear his holy name.
My heart is not troubled
I am not afraid.
I know he will find me,
He’ll come again in all his glory
And when he comes that day, he’ll find me
Right here where I stand.
Murray Felkner

The One Where They Went Home

Tomorrow two of my very favorite missionaries go home. I haven’t seen them in months… but it is still strange to think that they won’t be here in my mission, and that they won’t be full-time missionaries any longer. Two years of service is quite an offering to God, don’t you think? When you look at most nineteen- to 21-year-old men in the world, there is a stark contrast from our missionaries. I have heard people call it “two years of sacrifice.” I suppose in a way, it is. But most of the missionaries I know do not think of it as a sacrifice, but rather a privilege.

One thing that I have noticed about the very best missionaries… a thing that sets them apart from the rest… is that their desire to bring souls to Jesus Christ through baptism, and their desire to serve… is always far greater than their ultimately human ability to accomplish. No matter how many people they find, teach, baptize and serve, it cannot not match their desire to do so much more.

This desire can be a great thing. It is a motivator. It drives them to work harder, to pray harder… to be more and more obedient to the rules. But it can also be a source of discouragement when their results do not reach their desires. But this, I believe, is where an amazing doctrine comes into play. I don’t believe that we are judged solely on our accomplishments. I have heard people say that Mormons think they are “working their way to heaven.” We actually don’t believe that at all!

There is a part of the Atonement that we call “grace.” Through this beautiful principle of grace, the Savior has the power to add his perfecting power to our daily efforts. He adds to us. I believe that if you are looking at two years of a mission as an offering to the Lord, you take all the work, all the baptisms, all the service. And then, through the power of the Atonement, you add the righteous desires and what is in your heart… the perfecting power of the Savior, Jesus Christ. And that, finally, is the sum total of a mission. That is your offering to the Lord. And when you look at it that way, it is not just “the best two years.” You don’t just “return with honor.” To describe it in such commonplace terms does not do it the justice it demands.

Without the Atonement, a mission is a great thing to do. But through the grace of Jesus Christ, for whom these missionaries serve, a mission becomes something infinitely more. It becomes glorious, even triumphant. Through grace, we become so much more than we ever could by our own efforts. None of us could ever work our way to heaven.

When my own sons return from their missions, I feel what a bittersweet thing it is to finish a mission. Watching them, it has even become a bittersweet thing for me. I feel a little pain, realizing how the mission goes on without them, wherever they served, and yet I am so happy to welcome them home. I must say, I’m a little sad today, thinking that this is the last day of my friends’ missions. But I hope tomorrow is rewarding for these two great families and their missionaries. I pray they can catch a glimpse of that glory and triumph peeking through. There is a little magic in that… the real kind.

Another Sunday One

I’m teaching the young women at church today. About forgiveness. There is a story I have always loved from the book “The Miracle of Forgiveness” by Spencer W. Kimball. He talks about a woman who “climbed the heights of self-control as she forgave the man who disfigured her lovely face.” He then gives the account from UP newsman Neal Corbett, as it appeared in newspapers throughout the country:

“I would think he must be suffering; anybody who’s like that, we ought to feel sorry for him,” said April Aaron of the man who had sent her to a hospital for three weeks, following a brutal San Francisco knife attack. April Aaron is a devout Mormon, 22 years of age… She is a secretary who’s as pretty as her name, but her face has just one blemish— the right eye is missing. April lost it to the ‘wildly slashing knife of a purse snatcher,’ near San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park while en route to a [youth] dance last April 18. She also suffered deep slashes on her left arm and right leg during a struggle with her assailant, after she tripped and fell in her efforts to elude him just one block from the Mormon chapel…

“I ran for a block and a half before he caught me. You can’t run very fast on high heels,” April said with a smile. Slashes on her leg were so severe doctors feared for a time it would need amputation. The sharp edge of the weapon could damage neither April’s vivaciousness, nor her compassion. “I wish that somebody could do something for him to help him. He should have some treatment. Who knows what leads a person to do a thing like this? If they don’t find him, he’s likely to do it again.”

…April Aaron has won the hearts of the people of San Francisco Bay area with her courage and good spirit in face of tragedy. Her room at St. Francis hospital was banked with flowers throughout her stay and attendants said they couldn’t recall when anyone received more cards and expressions of good wishes.

Modern psychology would probably dictate that April was simply repressing the horror of the attack, and that it would eventually catch up with her. But that is not the case. I saw her for myself some years later, when I was about 12 years old. She was not April Aaron anymore, as she had married. She had a daughter my age, and although I had read that account in “The Miracle of Forgiveness,” my parents did not tell me that she was the woman from the story until later. All I saw was a pretty mom who was fun and had an awesome family.

I believe that only the Atonement of Jesus Christ has that kind of power. The kind where you can take something so terrible, and give it away. Drown it in the depths of the sea, where you remember it no more. And then take what you have been given, and make something truly beautiful. It certainly makes you think about hurts and offenses that you have not let go… why is it that in our human nature, and maybe more especially our feminine human nature, we find a perverse satisfaction in holding petty grudges and in feeling sorry for ourselves? I think that maybe it is because forgiveness requires faith... a leap we are sometimes unwilling or afraid to take. There was a thought from the lesson that I love. It was that forgiveness is not an act of feelings, but one of will. Can we decide to forgive?