Is it I?...It is I!

Last night, I had the privilege of playing in a concert with Jenny Oaks Baker, one of the more renowned violinists in the country. We played through her most recent album, Wish Upon a Star - a Tribute to Walt Disney. Playing through the masterfully arranged classics, I was filled with remembered feelings of magic and joy that Disney inspired in me as a young boy. From Mary Poppins to fairy tales with pirates, lions, and magic carpets, these movies will always hold a special place in my heart. In more recent years, Disney has turned to computer animation and 3D graphics, and it continues to create wholesome, entertaining media for the family. But I miss the magic of their traditional animation coupled with memorable songs and magical tales.
One of the last movies to showcase Disney's traditional animation didn't quite fit the fairy tale mold used for so many decades. It was beautifully drawn, but it didn’t feature the typical array of original songs; and, instead of a well-known, classic tale, it told an original story, one chalk-full of witty one-liners and humor that appealed to a grownup audience as much, if not more so, than a young one. Despite this deviation from the norm, I love The Emperor's New Groove and often find myself repeating the humorous quotes and gags with my family. My favorite character is Kronk, a likable, evil sidekick who is described as "big, dumb, and tone deaf" and “a really, really big, stupid monkey named Kronk”. Despite his poor ability to think critically in key moments, Kronk is faced with several decisions that he must make that bear significant consequences. In the humor of the movie, Kronk is not left to his own devices to make his choices. He is visited by two shoulder-angels who help to guide him in polar opposite moral directions. The angels remain nameless, but for my purposes here we'll call them Maverick and Goose—as a tribute to two other favorite movie characters.

Maverick is a traditional adversarial angel, dressed in red and carrying a trident, with a twisted goatee protruding from his chin and dual horns sticking out of his forehead. Goose, on the other hand, is robed in white, harp in hand, white, fluffy wings spread wide, golden halo adorning his crown. Maverick says, of Goose:

"Don’t listen to that guy. He’s trying to lead you down the path of righteousness. I’m gonna lead you down the path that ROCKS!"

When debating whether or not to let the Emperor plummet to his untimely demise, Kronk entertains the counsel of his angels. He asks Maverick, "Why should I listen to you?" Maverick confidently answers:

Maverick: “Listen up, big guy. I got three good reasons why you should just walk away… Number one: Look at that guy! He’s got that sissy stringy music thing.”Goose: “We’ve been through this. It’s a harp, and you know it.”Maverick: “Oh, right. That’s a harp; and that’s a dress.”Goose: “Robe!”Maverick: “Reason number two… Look what I can do…” (He then jumps into a one-armed handstand, legs stretched in an impressive, balanced pose)Kronk: (puzzled) “But what does that have to do with anything…?”Goose: (interjecting quickly) “No, no… He’s got a point…”

Now, in my simple faith I truly believe that I have two shoulder angels that follow me around daily. I'm not sure that my angels carry harps and tridents… in fact I'm not quite sure what they look like in reality. But to me they are very real. The closest I can come to describing my Goose--my Jimminy Cricket--is using words like white, light, joy, quiet confidence, peace, goodness... My Maverick is a little easier to describe because he looks like a movie star: gleaming smile, slick hair, strong presence. Other words come to mind like desire, confident, attractive, alluring, cool, confident, popular, fun, pleasure... I could go on.

Depending on my mood and demeanor and my present circumstances, these angels may from time to time take on a slightly different likeness. Recently, Goose, hanging out on my left shoulder, has taken on a less-ethereal likeness and is easier to visualize and describe. In fact, he looks like one of Disney's 3 little pigs. He's wearing white overalls that are splattered with gray mud and putty. He has impressive muscles, made strong through hard work. Sweat glistens across his brow and he is holding a dirty spade in one hand and a white brick in the other. Similarly, Maverick, over on my right, has recently undergone a makeover. He's still the attractive, cool, confident celebrity, but he's garbed for a relaxing getaway with dark sunglasses, baggy beach shorts, and a tight shirt stretched across his accentuated muscles, hair bleached and spiked, volleyball in one hand and the other pointed in a "the beach is that way..." pose.I think the reason for the costume change has something to do with a few thoughts that have recently touched me as well as a parable of the Savior that has always been meaningful to me.

When I was a teenager, I had a seminary teacher who paid me a strange and unique compliment. Every time he saw me, he would say, "Mike, you're a rock!" or "Hey, it's the Rock!"

Now I don't believe he was confusing me with a movie star or a professional wrestler. But the memory of that personal nickname has remained with me over the years and given me something to aspire to. You see, that year we were studying the New Testament. And the nickname "Rock" has everything to do with one friend of the Savior. I speak of the man Peter, a man who was given the name Cephas, meaning the "rock", by the Savior himself for his consistency and steadfast, immovable character. Peter was the original Rock. Of him, Christ exclaimed,

"Thou art Simon the son of Jona: thou shalt be called Cephas (which is, by interpretation, a stone). Upon this rock I will build my church and the gates of @#!*% shall not prevail against it. And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven."

Can you imagine what it would feel like to have the Savior of the World speak those words to you? Can you imagine what it must have felt like to Peter? Thinking on this makes me feel pretty special to have been myself called a rock by a loving brother and teacher. Today, I wish to take a few minutes to explore the path that Peter trod through life on his metaphorical journey to Cisthene, land of the rock rose, to stare into the eyes of the serpent-haired Gorgon and fully transform into the firm and unyielding element for which he was named, becoming a man of commitment, testimony, constancy, and steadfastness. And I wish to compare this to my personal journey to rise up to follow the example of my namesake and become a pillar of strength in spite of my ever-present weakness.
Spencer W. Kimball shared his feelings about an Easter Sunday religious editorial he had discovered where a minister claimed the failing of the presiding authority of the early-day church due to self-confidence, indecision, evil companions, failure to pray, lack of humility, and fear of man. This minister wrote, “Let us as people, especially those who are Christians and claim to abide by the Word of God, not make the same mistakes and fall as Peter fell.” President Kimball was taken aback by this message and related, in response, “As I read this, I had some strange emotions. I was shocked, then I was chilled, then my blood changed its temperature and began to boil. I felt I was attacked viciously, for Peter was my brother, my colleague, my example, my prophet, and God’s anointed. I whispered to myself, ‘That is not true. He is maligning my brother.’”

I can certainly echo some of President Kimball’s sentiment, as Peter is also one of my heroes. Here is a man who was indeed human. But he was full of goodness and ultimately lived up to his special name. As a simple fisherman Peter knew little of heavenly truths. But over time, under the tutelage of the Master, Peter grew in faith and leadership, testimony and courage, understanding and humility. Cephas was indeed rebuked on many occasions by the gentle admonitions of the Lord, but he learned from his errors and grew in faith and learning from each shortcoming. In considering those shortcomings of my brother Peter, I think of the words of Paul who exclaimed, “For my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.” I love these powerful words, so similar to those of Ether in the Book of Mormon, which consider the positive outcomes of challenging weakness, not with our own strength, but with the power and enabling grace of the Atonement of our Lord and Master which allow our weaknesses—those character flaws that lead us to humility and a reliance on our Savior—to become our greatest strengths.
What were Peter’s weaknesses—those flaws that would lead any Christian to accuse him of cowardice or of failure? One might remember a man who didn’t have the faith to walk upon the waters after turning his gaze from the Lord. In most cases, I think that one would think on Peter’s vehement triple denial of his acquaintance with Jesus in the courtyard of the palace of Caiaphas. How quick we are to cast judgment, failing to appreciate the incredible faith required to take those first few watery steps! How quick we are to forget that, just hours before his notorious denial, Peter was the first and only disciple to draw his sword in defense of his Master outside of Gethsemane before the Savior’s gentle injunction, “Suffer ye thus far… Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father, and he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels?” That same night, Peter also swore to his Master, “Lord, I am ready to go with thee, both into prison, and to death.” This does not sound like the vain promise of a man who would shortly turn his back on a friend and deny his faith and his testimony. So what was it that drove Peter to fulfill his Master’s fateful prophesy of denial?

I think that it has something to do with two shoulder-angels. Like every one of us, Peter hears one angel who slowly, yet surely, builds both faith and confidence as we are able to tune in to those gentle, fervent whisperings. Perhaps, as that confidence grows, it begins to overshadow the faith as the louder voice of the other angel entices us to overconfidence in ourselves and pride. Through the words of Peter, how many times do we see this confident conviction that no earthly force could conquer the Son of God? Peter clearly knew that, with God, all things are possible! But at times Peter failed to listen to that angel in white, not stopping to consider that, with God, some things are necessary.

Consider the dialogue between Peter and Christ, after the Lord’s prophesy that “he must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the third day.” Said Peter, “Be it far from thee Lord: this shall not be unto thee.” Replied Christ, “Get thee behind me Satan: thou art an offense unto me: for thou savorest not the things that be of God but those that be of men.” This indeed seems a severe rebuke to the disciple. Perhaps instead of calling his devoted follower a devil, Jesus was reminding Peter, and all of us, that to deviate from the divinely appointed Plan of Salvation is to stand alongside Satan, that red angel of darkness who would tell us that salvation can come through other means. Both of my shoulder-angels inspire confidence. The difference lies in whom that confidence is placed. My angel of white, Goose, inspires humility, or confidence in God and confidence in what God can and will accomplish through me; on the other hand, Maverick inspires pride, or confidence in myself, in the flesh, in life in general—as long as life is good. It’s when things get rough that Maverick withdraws and that confidence shatters as I am left to my own devices. Throughout our lives, I think we all drift back and forth between these polar opposite extremes. And both angelic emissaries are working diligently to win us back to their side.

I love the powerful words and emotions conveyed through a musical work entitled The Lamb of God, written by Rob Gardner, one of my favorite inspirational composers. Through music and narration, he tells the story of the last week of our Lord through the eyes of those who were closest to Him. Among others, we hear the song of Peter, our rock and exemplary hero. And as I listen, I can’t help but envision myself in his shoes during those critical hours. Doing so, I ultimately stop wondering why Peter felt to deny his Lord and instead contemplate how those experiences further helped to solidify the man Cephas. I wish to share those words from the music that follow Peter during those horrific days from commitment and confidence to complete denial and isolation, then back to hope and recommitment, and in the end to an unwavering witness of the resurrection of the Lord. As we look in on Peter’s feelings and actions during the Savior’s last week, consider how Peter is being inspired by his shoulder angels and whether his confidence is laced with humility and faith or pride.
Beginning in the upper chamber where the Passover feast was held, we hear the initial shock and outrage of the Twelve upon learning that one of their number would betray their Lord to His enemies, followed by an inward contemplation and reflection, considering what such a personal betrayal might cost. Sang John, Thomas, and Peter:

Lord, is it I?
Would ever I betray Thee?
Having known Thy love, could I so cruelly turn away?
Could my heart so fail Thee and my feeling turn so cold?
If I should leave Thee, where would I go?

Lord, is it I?
Am I then to betray Thee?
Having seen Thy wonders, could my foolish heart be swayed?
Is my faith so little that my soul would cease to burn?
If I should wander, where would I turn?

If I am prone to leave Thee,
If I am wont to doubt,
Oh, wilt Thou still receive me,
Bind me fast!
Oh, find me out!
That I may never wander,
That I may ever see,
Oh, that my hope seek not but Thee!
That I might follow with Thee!

Lord, is it I?
Could ever I betray Thee?
Having followed with Thee, could I seek some other way?
Though my heart is willing, could my flesh become so weak?
If I should leave Thee, whom would I seek?

O Savior, Take Thou my weakness from me!
Help Thou my unbelief!
Let nothing overcome me!
Be Thou with me! My sure relief!
Thou art my only Shepherd.
Thou art the only Way.
Oh, may I ever serve Thee…

For it is I who owe Thee my devotion.
It is I, yes I, so safely folded in Thy care.
Let mountains fall! Let earth divide!
Let valleys rise!
Yet one thing shall I know:
I will not leave Thee…

If I should leave Thee, where would I go?

What powerful words sung by those who best knew the Savior. I love the subtle progression from confusion and contemplation to firm commitment. “Lord, is it I? Could I possibly be the one? How could I ever abandon the truth?” Can you hear the hesitation, the fear of failing to stand fast? Can you guess which shoulder-angel is inspiring this doubt? But then faith again takes root… “Lord, it is I who will never fail thee! There is no force on earth that could take me from thee!” Those three simple words, slightly reordered, convey such opposite convictions. Is it I?... It is I!

As the Last Supper progress, Peter reaffirms his devotion to his Lord, singing:

Though all men be offended,
Yet shall I never be…

I’ll go with Thee to prison if Thou asketh it of me,
Though I should die with Thee,
Yet will not I deny Thee.

Can you hear that conviction? It is I!
As the night progressed and enemies drew near, Peter found that he was the only man holding a sword ready to fight back. Christ had power to raise the dead! Christ, himself, admitted that He could call down twelve legions of angels! So why didn’t he? Was Peter’s confidence at this point tuned to events set in motion that were much greater than he knew and understood? Or had his confidence been so deeply placed in the wonder of miracles and the almighty power of his Lord that he never truly believed that anything bad could and would happen to his Master or himself? If his confidence was of the prideful sort, Peter was not an unrighteous man. Perhaps, though, too many times he had given heed to the voice of an angel of darkness who suggested that things might happen his way, in his time, according to his desires. Along with the other disciples that fled, Peter’s Maverick withdrew, leaving Peter alone and confused, his confidence fading away with the torch lights of the oppressing mob. Despite his confusion and fear, Peter steadfastly follows his Master into a den of enemies. He intones:

The others flee,
How soon He is forsaken.
And shall I flee?
Abandon Him to face this all alone?
But He won’t fight.
Is He willing to allow this foul deceit?
Still, I must follow…
I will not run.

Can you hear the underlying hope and resolve to struggle onward, perhaps laced with fear or a lack of confidence? Then came that fateful hour where Peter condemned himself in the eyes of many Christians to this day. We listen in:

Now Peter had followed Jesus afar off and sat without in the palace: and a damsel came unto him.

Damsel: I know thy face…
Thou wast with Jesus of Galilee!

Peter: I know…
I know not…
I know not what thou sayest!

Maid: This fellow here:
This fellow here was with Jesus of Nazareth.
I’ve seen him there also…

Peter: I swear to you:
No, I do not know the man!

Damel & Maid: But surely thou also art one of them…
Surely thou followed with Jesus…
Thy speech is of Galilee…
I’ve seen you there also…
Yes, thou wast with Jesus of Galilee…
Thou wast with Jesus of Nazareth…

Peter: I know not the man!

And with the crowing of the morning @#!*% , Peter fled the palace in shame. I have not openly denied my Savior in word but, through sins of omission and commission, I have committed numerous offenses to my Lord that are every bit as self-condemning as anything Peter, the Rock, may have done this night. His words of pain and torment echo so strongly with me. Sang Peter:

What have I done?
Denied Him?
What have I done?
So now am I no different from the men
Who take thy bread then turn again? Oh…
What have I done?

I hear their filthy tongues, their vicious scorn,
The lies they spin with Satan’s yarn.
I watch them spit and strike Thy face,
They mock Thy name in foul disgrace.
And when Thou lookest for a friend,
Thou findest none, for I have fled,

Oh God!
What have I done?
As Thou hast taken stripes for me,
Could I not take but one for Thee?

I cannot watch them take my Lord.
I can’t endure their cruel hands upon Him,
While his own hands are tied with cord,
Those hands with pow’r to raise the dead,
Command the storm, now bound instead, and
I cannot hear them mock His name.
I cannot bear their foul breath upon Him.
I dare not look upon His face
And see the very Son of God,
His brow so bruised and stained with blood
His eyes that shed my sorrow’s tears,
And watch as all hope disappears.
I will not watch them crucify my Lord!

For I know this Man!
I know Him!
I know this Man!
I cannot watch what He must bear.
For surely He must carry all my burden.
Forgive me, Lord, that I’m not there…
But, when my eyes are closed in death,
These words will hang on my last breath:
I know Him.

With all of my weaknesses, so much more condemning and damning than any denial by Peter, I don’t feel that I could have worthily stood beside the cross as Christ sacrificed so greatly for my unworthiness, hoping that I might truly find in my weakness my greatest strength.

Through the grace and mercy of God, Peter was given another chance to stand before his Lord and Master. Three days later and numerous times in the following weeks and months, Peter—Cephas—was given the opportunity to prove his repentance and his true devotion to the Master. And in my faith, I know that I, too, will one day have that same opportunity to look into my Savior’s eyes and thank Him for His great sacrifice while providing an accounting of my service to Him as a product of my heartfelt repentance.
One final time, let us look into the life of Peter and consider his confidence and commitment. From a fishing boat, Peter recognized the call of his Lord from the shore and threw himself into the water to hurry to be with Jesus. That night, over a miraculously obtained feast of fish, the Lord asked Peter:

Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these?
Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee.
He saith unto him, Feed my lambs.

He saith to him again the second time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?
Lord, thou knowest that I love thee.
He saith unto him, Feed my sheep.

And then the third time he saith, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?
Thou knowest all things, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee.
Jesus saith unto him, Feed my sheep.

When Peter says, “Thou knowest that I love thee,” I can’t help but compare that to his earlier claim, “Lord, I am ready to go with thee, both into prison, and to death.” I believe Peter was deeply sincere with both assertions. However, I believe that his latter meant a little more. And I imagine that he was more prepared to heed the Savior’s injunction to care for the flock in the Lord’s stead. He was quickly becoming a finely crafted stone, one upon which that the keys of the kingdom of that day would firmly rest. Peter was still Peter, an impetuous yet well-meaning son of God who was striving to find strength through weakness. But he was learning to listen solely to that quiet shoulder-angel who inspires humble confidence and faith in the Lord’s plan, on the Lord’s time-table, according to the Lord’s will. One of the few things that Peter later desired in life, according to his own will, was that when he suffered his martyr’s fate that he be crucified upside down so as not to take any glory from the Lord’s divinely-required sacrifice.

We’ve spoken about the original Rock and his roller-coaster journey from “Is it I?” to “It is I!” Along the way, he received counsel from his shoulder angels. In my feeble attempts to live up to the nickname given me by my Seminary teacher, I too am clinging desperately to the safety bar strapping me into the roller-coaster car that is looping and spinning and racing in every direction. Such is life for most of us. At times, it seems that all I can do is hold down my lunch. Earlier, I described my shoulder-angels: Maverick and Goose. One was attired for a fun day in the sun, carefree and careless. One was grizzled with mud and putty, hands blistered from a hard day of work laying brick upon brick, constructing a house described by the Savior:

Therefore, whoso heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, who built his [brick] house upon a rock – and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock.

Ironically, Marverick told Kronk that he would lead him down the path that "ROCKS"... Far from it, Maverick’s home, if he found time to construct it at all in his busy schedule of sun tanning and beach volleyball, surely wasn’t built of brick—probably not even sticks. His straw, beach-front home was also described by the Savior:

And everyone that heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them not shall be likened unto a foolish man, who built his house upon the sand – and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell, and great was the fall of it.

There is no question which of these shoulder-angels will still be standing in the end and which will fall. It may seem that prime ocean-side real estate is going fast, but there will always be an abundance of property to be claimed on the rock that is our Redeemer. Which building contractor are you going to hire? You know where Christ would have you build. Well said Helaman to his two sons:

“Remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.”

As I learn to listen to the Holy Ghost, that shoulder-angel that is constant and unwavering, he who will follow me wherever I go as long as I remain in places that are conducive and inviting of his special spirit, I will continue to lay bricks one by one upon a sure foundation, building a temple, a home that is worthy of the Lord. When the Savior visits my rock-anchored house and knocks at the door, I will be ready to hear his voice and open that door so that He may come in to sup with me.
As I learn to ignore those enticements of the Adversary, the other shoulder-angel of darkness who speaks loudly with the voice of the world, of popularity, of ease, and of desire, I—like Cephas and many others—will stop asking “Is it I?” Instead, I will faithfully exclaim:

It is I who is eternally grateful for second chances!
It is I who is committed to doing my best!
It is I who knows without a doubt that Jesus is the Christ, my Lord and my Master!
It is I who is learning humility through my weakness!
It is I who is finding strength through the enabling grace of the Atonement of Christ!
It is I who can never repay my Lord for his tender mercy, but It is I who will give my all to do that little that He has asked of me!

A Symphony of Song

Every Pioneer Day, I yearn for that magical, inspired feeling that comes when I turn my heart to those who went before me--those who sacrificed so that I can today enjoy the blessings of the gospel, liberty, and prosperity. It is a feeling of sincere gratitude and appreciation. It is a feeling that drives me to be a little more like those great men and women whose faith was so strong. So, in my annual quest for this renewal of faith and gratitude, I crack open my video and music collection. This traditional collection includes, to name a few: The Mountain of the Lord--a powerful video portraying the 40 year effort to build the Salt Lake Temple, Legacy--a movie that recounts the horrific persecutions and trials of those early saints who followed Joseph Smith, and later Brigham Young, from home to home across uncharted frontier to eventually find a home in the Rocky's, and Come, Come Ye Saints--the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's album that was was released for the sesquecentennial (or 150th anniversary) of the Latter Day Saint's settling of the Salt Lake valley.

In the past couple years, though, I've found that I can most easily find that special feeling, the pioneer spirit, by listening to Saints and Pioneers, a musical production by Rob Gardner that powerfully tells the story of the pioneers through words and music in an hour. Each year, perhaps each time I listen, a different song touches my heart and becomes my new "favorite". This year, my favorite is a piece called "We Must Sing". The words of this song, so powerfully penned, are:

Who knows the burden placed on your heart?
Whence comes the longing? When shall it part?
No matter the sorrow, He'll not forsake,
God made our hearts and in His absence they ache.

Who knows what trials may come our way?
How shall we meet them? What will He say
When we kneel before Him? Will He approve?
God gave us trials that we might choose.

Who'll tell what blessings flow from above?
How might we measure His boundless love?
I'll sing of His goodness, Glory I'll bring.
God made our voices, but we make them sing.

God gave us voices, so we must sing.

God made our hearts... he allows us to feel pain. He allows us to feel sorrow. He allows us to suffer. He also allows us to feel joy and peace, serenity and commitment. Without this precious gift, we would not be human. I thank God for the ability to feel joy, despite the capacity to feel pain.

God also allows us to pass through hardships. God gave us trials that we might choose. With each challenge, we choose to draw nearer to Him or to withdraw to our own devices. And in the daily struggle through affliction and the daily enjoyment of goodness, happiness, and love, we are invited to simply be. We are who we are because of our collective experiences. These allow us to learn and grow and to become a little more like our Savior through each experience, be it a good one or a difficult one. And in each of these experiences, we are simply invited to raise our voices, such wonderful gifts from a loving Heavenly Father, in song. God gave us voices, so we must sing!

Every day, every hour, we are composing music in our hearts--songs of gratitude, joy, pain, or anger. I must admit that some days, the music coming from my heart would be best belong at a heavy metal concert where, rather than through the lyrics, the message of my song is found through loud, unmelodic shouts of intense emotion, be it frustration, anger, or despair. There are some days, however, when a sweet melody of love and happiness can be heard in my thoughts, words, and deeds--the same unique and beautiful melodies I hear from so many others around me. What a masterful symphony of song when voices raise in harmony praising God and finding joy and hope in every experience!

This Pioneer Day, I wish to share a few songs that have truly touched my heart--songs from faithful men and women that I wish so desperately to learn and to echo in my own experiences.

I begin by sharing a song of commitment. This song has been sung by many, but I am especially touched by the simple melody aired by Brigham Young, a man who, in my opinion, was the ultimate pioneer, a man who endured much and inspired many. Brigham sang:

"I will tell you what to do in order to gain your exaltation, the which you cannot obtain except you take this course. If your affections are placed upon anything so as to hinder you in the least from dedicating them to the Lord, make a dedication of that thing in the first place, that the dedication of the whole may be complete… If my heart is not fully given up to this work, I will give my time, my talents, my hands, and my possessions to it, until my heart consents to be subject. I will make my hands labour in the cause of God, until my heart bows in submission to it… The Lord must be first and foremost in our affections; the building up of his cause and kingdom demands our first consideration."

Brigham truly was a man who practiced what he preached. After gaining a testimony of the restored gospel, he left his livelihood and the comforts of his home to join the saints in Ohio. Sang he:

"When we arrived in Kirtland [in September 1833], if any man that ever did gather with the Saints was any poorer than I was—it was because he had nothing. … I had two children to take care of—that was all. I was a widower. ‘Brother Brigham, had you any shoes?’ No; not a shoe to my foot, except a pair of borrowed boots. I had no winter clothing, except a homemade coat that I had had three or four years. ‘Any pantaloons?’ No. ‘What did you do? Did you go without?’ No; I borrowed a pair to wear till I could get another pair. I had travelled and preached and given away every dollar of my property… I had traveled and preached until I had nothing left to gather with; but Joseph said: ‘come up;’ and I went up the best I could."

When the Lord calls, "Come up," will we have the commitment to join our song with Brigham's and go up the best we can?

Next, I am reminded of another song, a song of duty, which is closely related to commitment. Many of the early saints were not much better off than Brigham was when he joined the saints in Kirtland. Poverty and disease were rampant among the saints and they relied heavily on divine aid. When the call to serve came from a Prophet of God, it was not reserved for those who had health and prosperity. It was not directed at the learned or the eloquent of word. The call came to all, often in times of hardship. Many elders were sent abroad on missions when their wives might reasonably have pleaded for them to remain due to trials at home. Story after story tells of a man, his wife, and his children joining their voices with others to sing of duty and service. What beautiful words they sang!

"My four children had to be schooled and clothed, and no money would be left with me," sang Louisa Barnes Pratt, wife of Addison Pratt who was called on a mission to the Sandwich Islands. "My heart felt weak at the first, but I determined to trust in the Lord, and stand bravely before the ills of life, and rejoice that my husband was counted worthy to preach the gospel." Not long after Addison’s departure, his young daughter contracted smallpox. The disease was so contagious that there was real danger to any priesthood brother who might come to the Pratts, so Louisa prayed with faith and "rebuked the fever." Eleven little pimples came out on her daughter’s body, but the disease never developed. In a few days the fever was gone. Louisa later sang a sweet melody of testimony, "I showed the child to one acquainted with that disease; he said it was an attack; that I had conquered it by faith."

Many members of the Twelve were struck with the ague as they prepared to depart for England. Wilford Woodruff, who was very ill, left his wife, Phoebe, almost without food and the necessities of life. George A. Smith, the youngest Apostle, was so sick that he had to be carried to the wagon, and a man who saw him asked the driver if they had been robbing the graveyard. Brigham Young was so ill that he was unable to walk even a short distance without assistance, and his companion, Heber C. Kimball, was no better. Their wives and families, too, lay suffering. When the Apostles reached the crest of a hill a short distance from their homes, both lying in a wagon, they felt as though they could not endure leaving their families in so pitiful a condition. At Heber’s suggestion, they struggled to their feet, waved their hats over their heads, and shouted three times, "Hurrah, Hurrah, for Israel." Their wives, Mary Ann and Vilate, gained strength enough to stand and, leaning against the door frame, they sang out, "Good-bye, God bless you." The two men returned to their wagon beds with a spirit of joy and satisfaction at seeing their wives standing instead of lying sick in bed.

Have you ever heard such beautiful music? Listen on. It gets better... Francis Scott Key sang of his feelings of gratitude as he saw his nation's banner still flying proudly in the calm aftermath of a storm of war and violence. I can hear a similar tune of one who truly appreciates the rising sun following a difficult night in the words of Bishop Edward Partridge who was publically stripped and covered with tar and feathers. He sang,

"I bore my abuse with so much resignation and meekness, that it appeared to astound the multitude, who permitted me to retire in silence, many looking very solemn, their sympathies having been touched as I thought; and as to myself, I was so filled with the Spirit and love of God, that I had no hatred towards my persecutors or anyone else."

As the persecutions raged in Missouri, many sang of hope. Others sang of faith and healing. During a conflict near the Big Blue River, Philo Dibble was shot three times in the stomach. Brother Dibble sang:

"Brother Newel Knight came to see me, and sat down on the side of my bed… I felt the Spirit resting upon me at the crown of my head before his hand touched me, and I knew immediately that I was going to be healed… I immediately arose and discharged three quarts of blood or more, with some pieces of clothes that had been driven into my body by the bullets. I then dressed myself and went out doors… From that time not a drop of blood came from me and I never afterwards felt the slightest pain or inconvenience from my wounds, except that I was somewhat weak from the loss of blood."

Where Brother Dibble's song continued in this life, there were others who continued their songs in the next life. Such was the sweet melody of David Patten, the first martyr in the church, who died from injuries he sustained in a battle at Crooked River, where Latter-Day Saints attempted to rescue three kidnapped brethren.

Of Elder Patten, Heber C Kimball sang: "The principles of the Gospel which were so precious to him before, afforded him that support and consolation at the time of his departure, which deprived death of its sting and horror."

On his deathbed, David Patten's song turned first to those of his brethren who had fallen from their steadfastness into apostasy. "O that they were in my situation! For I feel that I have kept the faith." Next he pled with his wife, singing, "Whatever you do else, Oh do not deny the faith." Just before he died, he sang to his God, "Father, I ask Thee in the name of Jesus Christ, that Thou wouldst release my spirit, and receive it unto Thyself." And then to those around him he intoned, "Brethren, you have held me by your faith, but do give me up, and let me go, I beseech you." Brother Kimball sang, "We accordingly committed him to God, and he soon breathed his last, and slept in Jesus without a groan."

The persecutions continued, and the saints were compelled to seek out another home. In faith, thousands outfitted wagons and handcarts and braved the wilds of the frontier I cannot pretend to comprehend what it was that inspired William Hyde, a husband and father, to sing the following when asked to leave his homeless family along the trail to join the Mormon Battalion in service of a nation that had turned its back on his family, his rights, and his people. Sang William,

"The thoughts of leaving my family at this critical time are indescribable. They were far from the land of their nativity, situated upon a lonely prairie with no dwelling but a wagon, the scorching sun beating upon them, with the prospect of the cold winds of December finding them in the same bleak, dreary place.

"My family consisted of a wife and two small children, who were left in company with an aged father and mother and a brother. The most of the Battalion left families. … When we were to meet with them again, God only knew. Nevertheless, we did not feel to murmur."

After his discharge, William and many of the other battalion members remained in California to work for a season. Several were present at John Sutter's sawmill when gold was first discovered in 1848, leading to the California Gold Rush. Despite the prosperous possibilities, the Latter-day Saint fathers and husbands did not stay in California to seek their fortune, but rather followed the call of a prophet to gather in Utah. James S. Brown sang of his experience:

"I have never seen that rich spot of earth since; nor do I regret it, for there always has been a higher object before me than gold… Some may think we were blind to our own interests; but after more than forty years we look back without regrets, although we did see fortunes in the land, and had many inducements to stay. Still duty called, our honor was at stake, we had covenanted with each other, there was a principle involved; for with us it was God and His kingdom first. We had friends and relatives in the wilderness, yea, in an untried, desert land, and who knew their condition? We did not. So it was duty before pleasure, before wealth, and with this prompting we rolled out."

I can think of many songs about flowers, songs about lillies, lilacs, pansies, and even mistletoe. I especially love songs about roses. A rose is truly beautiful, but a rose can also offer a painful prick if not handled carefully. Often, many can only see the thorns along their way, but a small few can sense the roses amidst the thorns.

Joseph Moenor sang about his experiences on the trek west. He recalled having "a hard time" in getting to the Salt Lake Valley. But, through his journals, we hear his song was of wonders he had never before seen—great herds of buffalo and big cedar trees on the hills, vast expanses of sunflowers in bloom. Mary Richards, whose husband, Samuel, was on a mission in Scotland cheerfully sang of the comings and goings of the Saints at Winter Quarters, which was rightfully summarized by Brigham Young as the "Valley Forge of Mormondom", including such activities as theological discussions, dances, Church meetings, parties, and frontier revivals.

Amidst the thorns, there are always roses to sing about.

Next I share two songs that have no words but are so sweet and melodic that the absence of lyrics can hardly be noticed.

The first song was sung by Nellie Pucell, a handcart pioneer who, at the young age of 10, lost both of her parents on the journey west. At one point, in the bitter cold, with insufficient rations and no strength, Nellie and her sister Maggie collapsed with no hope of being able to continue any further. The leader of the company came to their aid, placed Nellie in the wagon and told Maggie to walk along beside it, holding on to steady herself. The forced movement saved Maggie from frostbite. When they finally arrived in Salt Lake City and Nellie's shoes were removed, the skin came off along with the stockings and the girl's feet were amputated. Nellie walked on her knees for the rest of her life. But Nellie's song continued through a normal life as she married and raised six children, keeping house and serving faithfully, never allowing her disability to be a hinderance.

I'm not sure what the title of Nellie's song should be. There are many titles that could and should be applied, but I think the music speaks for itself and could best be left Untitled. This next song without words is one of hope in a time of deepest mourning.

The Crandall family trekked west in the Summer of 1850. On the 23rd of June, the Crandall family numbered fifteen. By the week’s end seven had died of cholera. In the next few days five more family members died. Then on 30 June Sister Crandall died in childbirth along with her newborn baby. Of the fifteen that set out, only two survived the journey.

So why is this song about hope? What became of the two surviving family members? What kind of testimony did they gain as they chose to continue west, following a Prophet of God? What kind of legacy did they leave for their future posterity? There is always hope when we continue to sing when the melodies seem darkest.

Many years after the trials of the handcart pioneers, in a setting of sharp criticism toward the poor planning and leadership that led to the deaths of many, one survivor, whose experience may very well have been like that of the Crandalls or Nellie Pucell, stood and sang a solo that still reverberates in my heart.

"I was in that company and my wife was in it. … We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? … [We] came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our
extremities.

"I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it… I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there.

"Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company."

This man's was a song of pure testimony. Where one might have stopped singing altogether, this brother chose to sing even louder. And, from his personal testimony, we learn that he never stopped singing. God gave this man his voice, but he made that voice sing.

There are so many voices that joined in melodious song of testimony, hope, endurance, sacrifice, faith, healing, and charity. One voice composed a simple, yet sweet tune of peace and comfort that has been echoed by millions whether during the brightest day or the darkest night.

This man was called to be in one of the first groups to leave Nauvoo. He left his wife, who was only one month away from delivering their first child, behind with her parents. As he wended his way through the mud and cold, his thoughts and worries were constantly on his beloved and his expected child. After two long months of waiting for news, he received word that he was the proud father of a "fine fat boy". Wasting no time, he sat down and wrote out his song of joy that has since become an anthem of inspiration and gratitude to pioneers of the plains and pioneers across the world. In his simple exclaimation "All is well! All is well!", countless Saints have found the joy and peace that are the rewards of sacrifice and obedience to a watchful Father in Heaven.

And so, if you feel that you are unable to compose your own masterpiece, be assured that you are indeed writing your own symphony of song. And as you carefully seek out your own words of testimony to put to music, you can simply join me and many others as we sing:

"No toil nor labor fear...
Grace shall be as your day...
Tis better far for us to strive...
Joy, your heart will swell...
Gird up your loins, fresh courage take...
We'll make the air with music ring, shout praises to our God and King...
Our God will never us forsake...
Happy day! All is well!"

Dear to the Heart of the Shepherd

When I was engaged to be married, I was first introduced to off-road recreation by my soon-to-be in-laws. In Utah, we called it four wheeling. In my fiancé’s family they called it “quadding”. Whatever you want to call it, I had no clue what I was doing. But, to not deter my bride-to-be, I donned my heroic, daredevil mask and strived to exude a strong air of confidence as I jumped behind the wheel and had my fiancé slide in behind me. I’d like to say that I was a natural, but I was at least passable, and my fiancé didn’t dump me for my lack of spine.

The next desert outing came after our vows, so I felt a little less in the hot seat and was able to enjoy myself that much more. On one ride, I had my younger sister-in-law in tow on a quad that might more aptly be called a tractor. It had rained the previous day, so the ground was soft and muddy. We raced up an unexplored, narrow incline only to slow as we approached the top. We quickly discovered that the path ended in a sharp drop off. Despite my desire to be a carefree daredevil, I was no Evel Knievel. I slammed on the brakes and attempted to turn around to head back the way we had come. But the path was too narrow and the quad was too large, and my only hope was to slowly descend in reverse. At this point, my sister-in-law was ready to abandon me, and my own insecurities led me to want to abandon myself as well. I hugged those brakes, but the thick mud took over, and the machine continued to slide down the incline gathering speed. I quickly lost control and shouted at my sister to jump off and get out of the way. As the quad began to flip over, it was all I could do to shoulder the weight of it long enough for the two of us to scramble free. One or two fruitless minutes were spent in vain before I realized that I didn’t have the muscle power to flip that massive tractor of a quad back upright, and I began the long walk of shame back to our base camp while my sister-in-law guarded the downed toy.

Well, it took a long time for the jokes and dinner table stories to change topics from my moment of shame to some other more humorous family lore. In fact what it took was my brother-in-law. When he began courting my wife’s sister, I silently watched and prayed that he could take the scepter and crown away from me and become the new family Darwin Award candidate. And as I got to know him better, I realized that it was just a matter of time before he would do something to rival me. Of course I say this in jest, but sure enough, on one family outing, he climbed up onto a racing quad and collided headlong into a large cement wall. Of course I took no pleasure in his pain or the trauma of the moment, but the situation was pretty darn funny, and I was glad to be on the other side of a family joke for a change. But even then, I knew it was only a matter of time before I stole the crown right back. And steal it I did.

Several years later, we were out for our seasonal quadding foray into the desert. We chose a new location that had a great deal of trails and paths extending in all directions for as far as the eye could see. When my turn came, I climbed up on a small quad that had great maneuverability but not a lot of power. I started off up a long incline that led up to the top of a tall and long ridge. On the far side of the ridge, I could see a sandy wash that ran parallel and had many offshoots. I rode up and down this wash a few times and explored over a few of the nearby hills before I decided to head back to camp. By the time I returned to the wash and the path leading up and over the ridge to the camp, one of the front tires had lost a fair amount of air, and I found it more difficult to climb steep inclines at a run. I tried to climb this return path two or three times with difficulty and found that I could only get about halfway up before losing power and rolling back down the incline. The failed attempts shook me up a little, and I began to lose confidence in myself as a driver. I decided to drive farther down the wash to find a gentler incline to ascend back over the ridge. I attempted a few other paths that I found led farther away from camp rather than back over this ridge. After a little while of seemingly driving in circles, I began to lose my sense of direction. When I eventually climbed to the top of what I thought was this ridge that separated me from more familiar terrain and my family’s camp, I only found unfamiliar land in all directions. At this point, I tried to retrace my tracks, heading in directions that I thought would get me back to familiar ground, only to doubt myself, double back, and try yet another path. By now, I had even lost the original wash as a reference. I was lost.

Prior to this moment, I had seen a few other riders as I had roamed about. A few times, I felt prompted to ask for help, but felt too proud and confident in my own ability to stop and ask for directions. But that was just me being a typical, stubborn man, right? As I realized that I was getting nowhere on my own, I finally decided to break down and get some help. I heard an engine in the distance and headed in that direction. When I flagged down the rider, I described the base camp my family was using. This gentleman knew the area and pointed me in the general direction. With newfound determination, I raced off down a path in that direction only to find that the path veered off a few times, and I quickly lost my bearing. Again, I was lost and disoriented. I heard another rider, and got help a second time. This rider was very familiar with the area and offered to escort me back, but I declined the help, again took a bearing, and raced off on my own yet again. When I found myself lost a few minutes later, I regretted declining further help. This regret quickly faded as I found a third rider and asked for directions. Stubborn to the end, I was determined to only accept a prod in the right direction, resolved to get to my destination on my own steam.

After this third prodding failed to lead me back to camp, I found myself completely alone. There wasn’t a fourth rider, or a fifth. I had been given three chances to humble myself and accept a helpful hand, and I had failed. By now, my tires were running extremely low, and I had lost all confidence in myself as a driver and all sense of direction. I was near breaking point. I shut off the engine, listening in vain for that fourth rider. My desperation humbled me to the point where I was finally ready to let someone else do more than just point me in a general direction. I was ready to let someone hook up a chain and tow me out if necessary. I waited several long minutes without hearing another soul. I felt totally alone, with no idea how I was going to get back home. I tried to restart the engine, but had unexpected problems with the starter. I knew I needed help, and it seemed like there was none to be had.

Why didn’t I drop to my knees and pray? I had learned about the power of prayer as a child in Primary and in my child-like faith had often longed for moments like this where the Lord would sail in to rescue me from my hopeless predicament in some miraculous, faith-promoting way. I knew without a doubt that He could and would rescue me. But I felt undeserving this day. Not just because of my stubborn pride in refusing help from these other riders. This physical helplessness and isolation in the desert had led me to think of my spiritual isolation from my God, to think on my weaknesses and sins which are many. And these weighed extremely heavy on me at this moment when I, in my pride, did not want to allow the Lord to extend his mercy and help out a lost and imperfect soul. I didn’t feel worthy of a miracle and didn’t feel worthy to pray for such. In my self-condemnation and my pride, I denied the Lord’s grace through my refusal to pray.

I struggled with that starter for who knows how long before I was compelled to humility. I had to swallow my pride and fall to my knees. Tears sprang to my eyes, not so much over my physical predicament but more due to my personal spiritual insecurities. My prayer was simple. I promised the Lord that if He would send help, I would fully allow myself to be helped. I could not do it alone, so if He in His mercy gave me one more chance, I would humbly accept the help of another.

I arose from my knees and was shortly able to jump start the quad. I started driving, trying to yield my direction to the promptings of the Spirit. I didn’t have a profound spiritual enlightening. I heard no voice; there was no Liahona sent to guide me. I simply drive on with a hymn in my heart, repeating my promise to ask for complete help over and over in my mind. As I drove along, I thought about all of my weaknesses and my personal struggles in life. I thought about how natural it was for me in life when requesting the assistance of another to accept a prod in the right direction and then race off determined to cross the finish line on my own. That prodding might come from a meaningful Sunday School lesson, by partaking of the Sacrament, through a special tender mercy of the Lord where the Spirit would strongly prompt me to a course of action, or by the loving counsel of a loved one or a Priesthood leader. But it is in my nature, perhaps it is part of the natural man in all of us, to want to save myself, to want to do it on my own. And in this moment, where my spiritual weaknesses and shortcomings seemed so heavy on my shoulders, I knew that the Lord wanted me to keep this promise, not just in this moment of physical tribulation, but also in my personal life. How many times had He sent riders to help me through my personal struggles? How many times had I casually dismissed that help and wandered aimlessly on my own? And so, continuing along, with a hymn in my heart, I renewed my promise to break my emotional isolation in my personally life and to more fully open my heart to those others who would stand to help me in my struggles.

Eventually, help did come. I came across some guys in a truck who were somewhat lost as well, and I asked them if I could follow them out as they looked for an outlet. On a few climbs, they had to patiently wait as my quad struggled to reach the top. When my engine stalled, they helped me jump it again. At one point, they even hooked up a rope to help pull me to the top of an especially difficult clime. When we eventually found a base camp, it wasn’t the same one I’d started at. We parked the quad, and they gave me a lift out onto the highway and back to the other inlet where my family was anxiously waiting. As we pulled up and I saw the sheriff trucks, it dawned on me how long I had actually been lost and reality set in. The sheriff’s informed me that a Search and Rescue helicopter was about to be deployed and it was lucky I had arrived just then. And as my father-in-law made jokes with the patrolmen about his son-in-law engineer who would have had difficulty fending off the coyotes without his Eagle Scout mother there to consult, I knew that I had stolen the crown of family jester right back from my brother-in-law.

When Elder Holland spoke in general conference the following month about The Ministry of Angels, I was especially touched by his message and I wished that I had contact information for those brothers in the truck who had been angels for me in my time of need. Speaking of angels, Elder Holland said,

“Usually such beings are not seen. Sometimes they are. But seen or unseen they are always near. Sometimes their assignments are very grand and have significance for the whole world. Sometimes the messages are more private. Occasionally the angelic purpose is to warn. But most often it is to comfort, to provide some form of merciful attention, guidance in difficult times… In the course of life all of us spend time in “dark and dreary” places, wildernesses, [deserts], circumstances of sorrow or fear or discouragement… But I testify that angels are still sent to help us, even as they were sent to help Adam and Eve, to help the prophets, and indeed to help the Savior of the world Himself.

"I have spoken here of heavenly help, of angels dispatched to bless us in time of need. But when we speak of those who are instruments in the hand of God, we are reminded that not all angels are from the other side of the veil. Some of them we walk with and talk with—here, now, every day. Some of them reside in our own neighborhoods. Some of them gave birth to us, and in my case, one of them consented to marry me. Indeed heaven never seems closer than when we see the love of God manifested in the kindness and devotion of people so good and so pure that angelic is the only word that comes to mind."

These spirit brothers of mine truly can only be described as angels to me. Surely, they forgot about me and my plight minutes after dropping me off that day. But, whether they knew it or not, these men were sent to me in my time of need for a purpose. And that purpose was not just to bring me out of my physical trial… As an answer to my simple prayer, these men helped to bring me out of a spiritual and emotional isolation in my personal life as well. They helped to teach me that we are never beyond help—we are never too unworthy to fall to our knees and humbly ask for help. They also taught me that if we are going to ask for help, we must be willing to fully accept that help. Truly, whenever I have strived to save myself on my own, it seems that the harder I try, the worse my predicament becomes. This day, I was carried out of the desert in the arms of angels. And I learned a powerful lesson in submissiveness. I love the powerful words of King Benjamin:

For the natural man, [including our reliance on ourselves and our stubborn self-will] is an enemy to God and will be forever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit and putteth off the natural man… and becometh as a child: submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeith fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.

Yield. Submit. Willing. Humble. These words are so contrary to the pride of the natural man. When our lives warrant a course correction, the first step is recognition. We must freely admit that there is a need for change, that our lives are headed in the wrong direction or that our lives could be headed in a better direction. Perhaps our lives do not seem unmanageable. Perhaps the necessary corrections are indeed minor. But when we humbly inquire of our Lord and Savior, He will show unto us our weaknesses; He will show us who He wants us to become. But along with this recognition, however dire or lost our circumstances may seem, we must likewise recognize the all-important need for a helping hand along the way. The Lord does not just want to help us see that we are lost and tell us where we should go on our own. He wants to take us there Himself, whether He takes us by the hand Himself or sends a special angel to serve His purposes. With a firm faith in His divine grace and healing wings, we can and we will find rescue and eventual refuge in the safety of His fold.

In the aftermath of my desert adventure, one of my sisters-in-law often burst into song, hymning the words, “Out in the desert he wandered… hungry and helpless and cold…” Of course her antics brought a smile to all, but the words of that hymn truly relate directly to my experience that day:

Dear to the heart of the Shepherd, dear are the lambs of his fold.
Some from the pastures are straying, hungry and helpless and cold.
See, the Good Shepherd is seeking, seeking the lambs that are lost,
Bringing them in with rejoicing, saved at such infinite cost.

Dear to the heart of the Shepherd, dear are the “ninety and nine”;
Dear are the sheep that have wandered out in the desert to pine.
Hark! He is earnestly calling, tenderly pleading today:
“Will you not seek for my lost ones, off from my shelter astray?”

Out in the desert they wander, hungry and helpless and cold;
Off to the rescue he hastens, bringing them back to the fold.

I think we all take turns either being the one lost lamb or one of the ninety and nine that is invited to join in the angelic rescue. Unfortunately, through my wilderness excursion and through other numerous experiences, I too often find myself as the one requiring rescue, the one who pridefully resists that rescue when it comes. My prayer is, first and foremost, that I might be a little more humble, a little more prepared to accept the divine ministry of angels and the tender mercies of my Savior as He rescues me from myself. May I be a little more submissive, meek, humble, willing, and childlike. My prayer would also be that I might be in tune with the Spirit and serve my brothers and sisters, my fellow lambs, as one of the ninety and nine when invited to join my Shepherd in the search and the rescue of His other lost sheep. I pray that I might be able to say with the many that I dwell safely among the flock of the Good Shepherd, that when the one that is lost is crying out for rescue, I might be an instrument in the hands of my Shepherd in bringing that dear lamb back to the fold.

Elder Holland concluded his powerful talk on angels with these words:

“My beloved brothers and sisters, I testify of angels, both the heavenly and the mortal kind. In doing so I am testifying that God never leaves us alone, never leaves us unaided in the challenges that we face. ‘[N]or will he, so long as time shall last, or the earth shall stand, or there shall be one man [or woman or child] upon the face thereof to be saved.’ On occasions, global or personal, we may feel we are distanced from God, shut out from heaven, lost, alone in dark and dreary places. Often enough that distress can be of our own making, but even then the Father of us all is watching and assisting. And always there are those angels who come and go all around us, seen and unseen, known and unknown, mortal and immortal.

“May we all believe more readily in, and have more gratitude for, the Lord’s promise as contained in one of President Monson’s favorite scriptures: ‘I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, . . . my Spirit shall be in your [heart], and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.’ In the process of praying for those angels to attend us, may we all try to be a little more angelic ourselves—with a kind word, a strong arm, a declaration of faith and ‘the covenant wherewith [we] have covenanted.’ Perhaps then we can be emissaries sent from God when someone, perhaps a Primary child [or an engineer son-in-law], is crying, ‘Darkness . . . afraid . . . river . . . alone.’”

I echo those words of testimony as one who has wandered in the desert alone. There are indeed angels among us. And the Lord is indeed mindful of us in our darkest moments, whether they be of our own making or not. I am thankful for the Good Shepherd and His constant, tender, pleading call to me and, above all, His infinite patience as I learn to be a child once again.

God bless!

Is Anybody There? Does Anybody Care?

Is anybody there? Does anybody care? Does anybody see what I see?
I see fireworks! I see the pageant and pomp and parade.
I hear the bells ringing out; I hear the cannons roar;
I see Americans - all Americans - free forever more!

Do these lyrics ring a bell with anyone else? This past weekend, with Independence Day falling on a Sunday, we were able to celebrate the 4th of July on the 3rd, the 4th, and the 5th of July. With each of the neighboring cities electing to shoot off fireworks and host all manner of pageant, pomp, and parade on different days over the extended weekend, I've gotten my fill of gratitude and pride for my nation. And of course, as tradition demands, I sat through nearly three hours of witty jokes and one-liners and catchy tunes from John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and Thomas Jefferson, in the classic musical 1776. Hands down, my favorite number from the musical is one sung by John Adams (played by Mr. Feeny for those of you who grew up with the TGIF show Boy Meets World). He sings:

They want to me to quit; they say John, give up the fight
Still to England I say 'Good night, forever, good night!'
For I have crossed the Rubicon; Let the bridge be burned behind me!
Come what may, come what may! Commitment!

I absolutely love that attitude of commitment toward a noble cause! Adams' words taken on added meaning with a brief history of the Roman Empire. In 49 BC, Roman law explicitly forbade any General from crossing the Rubicon River with a legion. This statute was intended to protect Roman citizens from internal military might. The Roman government was a conglomerate of three primary factions led by political rivals. After carrying out military campaigns abroad, General Julius Caesar, one of these rival powers, returned to Rome with his legion of active soldiers. The act of crossing the Rubicon without first disbanding his army was an act of treason and sacrilege, punishable by death--an act that began a civil war among political factions that ended with Caesar emerging as emperor of the Roman nation. Even Caesar had strong reservations as they neared the river crossing, uttering the famous saying 'ālea iacta est' (or 'the die has been cast'), and some accounts describe a supernatural apparition as the motivating force behind the ultimate order to cross.

So when John Adams sings, "I have crossed the Rubicon, let the bridge be burned behind me," I see a man who does not share Caesar's reservations. He does not need a sign from Heaven urging him to put pen to parchment and affix his name to a treasonous declaration. He was fully and unequivocally committed to the cause of freedom. And he had a vision, one that was described in the quoted lyrics above. Adams may indeed have seen millions of American men and women getting time off of work to barbecue and catch up on yard work, to proudly display flags in their yards, to stand on the side of crowded streets in the blistering July heat with happy children perched high on their shoulders laughing and pointing at clowns, horses, and marching bands, and time off to stretch out on blankets or in the back of pickups under a dark night sky to watch an ooh-and-aah-inspiring display of colorful lights and thundering sounds that never fails to raise a patriotic fervor to loftier heights. But, greater than the fireworks and bells, more important than the pageant, the pomp, and parade, he saw Americans--all Americans--free!

Free? Free to what? Free to choose our nation's leaders... free to criticize and disagree with those leaders... free to define our own governing laws... freedom to break those laws... free to say what we think, to write what we feel... free to worship the God we revere... free to share that God with others... free to gain an education, to choose our own careers, and to prosper according to our diligence and hard work... free to live where we want, to choose our own spouse, and to raise a family however we see fit... and so the list could go on and on.

Many describe the American dream as a posh job, a sporty car, a fancy house in Little Suburbia, and a growing nest egg for a comfortable retirement spent doing all those things we didn't have time to do while devoting our lives to acquiring the aforementioned American necessities. This American dream, regardless of the number of Americans who share it, is not the dream that we are collectively striving to share with the world: with those nations currently led by tyrants and dictators and with those many across the world who painfully labor for the prosperity of the few that are higher than them in the social ladder. Rather, I would like to hope that the message we carry to the world is this same vision of freedom so passionately sought after by the millions of men and women who, like Adams, sacrificed their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor for the ideals and freedoms we enjoy in our nation today.

General George Washington seems to have shared this vision of freedom that would have impact across the entire world. In November 1775, seeking to motivate the colonial troops to re-enlist for another year of service, Washington delivered a powerful speech including the following:

As I have the honor to be an American, and one among the Free Millions, who are defended by your valor, I would pay the tribute of thanks, and express my gratitude, while I solicit you to continue in your present honorable and important station. I doubt not America will always find enough of her sons ready to flock to her standard, and support her freedom... [but] every friend of America will be desirous that most of the gentlemen who compose the present army may continue in the service of their country until "LIBERTY, PEACE, AND SAFETY" are established.

Although your private concerns may call for your assistance at home, yet the voice of your country is still louder, and it is painful to heroic minds to quit the field when LIBERTY calls, and the voice of injured millions cries, "To arms! To arms!" Never was a cause more important or glorious than that which you are engaged in; not only your wives, your children, and distant posterity, but humanity at large, the world of mankind, are interested in it; for if tyranny should prevail in this great country, we may expect LIBERTY will expire throughout the world. Therefore, more human glory and happiness may depend upon your exertions than ever yet depended upon any of the sons of men. He that is a soldier in defense of such a cause, needs no title; his post is a post of honor, and although not an emperor, yet he shall wear a crown--of glory--and blessed will be his memory!

The savage and brutal barbarity of our enemies... is full demonstration that there is not the least remains of virtue, wisdom, or humanity in the British court; and that they are fully determined with fire and sword, to butcher and destroy, beggar and enslave the whole American people. Therefore we expect soon to break off all kind of connection with Britain, and form into a GRAND REPUBLIC of the AMERICAN UNITED COLONIES, which will, by the blessing of heaven, soon work out our salvation, and perpetuate the liberties, increase the wealth, the power and the glory of this Western world.

Notwithstanding the many difficulties we have to encounter, and the rage of our merciless enemies, we have a glorious prospect before us, big with every thing good and great. The further we enter into the field of independence, our prospects will expand and brighten, and a complete Republic will soon complete our happiness. "Blindness seems to have happened to Britain, that the fullness of America might come in;" and we have every encouragement to "stand fast in the liberties wherewith heaven hath made us free." Persevere, YE GUARDIANS OF LIBERTY! May success be your constant attendant, until the enemies of freedom are no more, and all future generations, as they successively tread the stage of time, and taste the JOYS OF LIBERTY, will rise up and call YOU blessed.

General Washington's prophetic vision, one that was not obtained cheaply and has cost a great deal of American blood, has indeed been realized in our day. Across the world, countless millions, including myself taste the joys of liberty and rise up to call those brave men and women, who fought for this great cause, blessed. And so, in reference to this great American dream, John Adams challenges us:

Is anybody there? Does anybody care? Does anybody see what I see?

And so I take the challenge. Do I care? Can I see the vision of what our Founding Fathers were trying to accomplish? Am I doing my part to support that cause? Borrowing from the words of JFK, Am I more concerned with what my country can do for me or what I can do for my great country?

Do I care? My immediate, easy answer is, "Absolutely!" But let's put myself on the chopping block and ask this same question a few other ways:

Do I care enough to honestly study out the issues and drag myself down to the polls not just every 4 years, but every single time there is a vote? Let's just say that my track record here is not fantastic. And when I do make it down to the polls, I'm usually not as educated as I should be.

Do I care enough to suit up and depart for distant shores, should threatening circumstances warrant, and risk my life to defend my family and these ideals? Maybe... But if Lindsey actually let me go, I'd probably be a greater help on KP or on latrine-cleaning duty than I would be employing my subpar targeting skills on the front lines--I never did get either of those dang shooting merit badges!

Do I care enough to speak out on issues that are important to me, to campaign for a candidate who shares my views, or to stand up for these views even when they are unpopular? A couple years ago, when an initiative defining traditional marriage was being considered for addition into the Arizona state constitution, I actually put up a sign in my yard defending the more conservative and less popular viewpoint, one that I felt passionate about. The sign disappeared overnight. I put up another sign. And, yes, I was a little afraid for the safety of my family and the well-being of my house (which did not get egged after all). But, no, I did not do more than put up a dumb sign. With as much as I like to share an opinion, I am surprisingly quiet publically when it comes to matters of politics or items of national significance.

So, do I care? Yes. Could I care more? Absolutely! I love this time of year. Sure, I like all of the holidays--and Thanksgiving is no exception. But at Thanksgiving, my feelings of gratitude are so wide-spread and unfocused that I often end up feeling more gratitude for the turkey, the pumpkin pie, and the sport of football than anything else. So I'm grateful for other holidays when I can bring my gratitude into greater focus. I feel gratitude for my wife and family on Valentine's Day, for loved ones who've gone before me on Memorial Day, for the miracle of forgiveness on Easter, for chocolate on Halloween, and for snow at Christmastime. One of the reasons that I like this summer time of year so much is the abundance of holidays that allow me to focus my gratitude.

This week, I have the opportunity to feel the strongest feelings of appreciation for the John Adams's and the George Washington's, the Abraham Lincoln's and the John F Kennedy's, the paratroopers of Normandy and the unknown soldiers, the Nephi's and the Captain Moroni's, and the countless other men and women who have labored and fought for the freedoms we enjoy in this great land today.

Last week, I had the opportunity to reflect on the life of one man who lived in a nation that espoused religious liberties and tolerance and thus possessed the freedoms necessary to restore divine truths and authorities to the children of men under the inspiration and watchful care of a loving Heavenly Father. These liberties of speech and religion were often tested, as those who clung to these rights were often persecuted. Ultimately, this prophet suffered a martyr's fate, giving his life and defending his testimony (and his rights to believe what he knew to be true) with his own blood.

Later this month, I'll have the opportunity to remember a large populace of Saints who greatly suffered and toiled for this same cause. When these pioneers felt that these God-given and patriot-defended rights were being denied them, rather than carry out yet another bloody revolution against tyranny and oppression, they sought a land where they could truly enjoy these freedoms, for which so much blood had already been shed. Thankfully, today there are fewer religious persecutions resulting in events similar to those of Jackson County, Missouri and Nauvoo, Illinois, and the cold-blooded murder of a man for his religious beliefs, regardless how zealous or extreme they might seem to the public at large, would be prosecuted by the full arm of the law.

As I remember the declaration of American independence, the martyrdom of a prophet, and the persecution and resulting wilderness trek of an outcast people, I find myself in a time of year when I can't help but feel the humblest gratitude for freedom--above all the freedom to worship my God as I see fit--the very freedoms for which such an awful price has been and continues to be paid. And so I hang my stars and stripes proudly, I turn on my annual musical, I listen to David McCullough describe the awful, hopeless predicament of the early colonial army in 1776, I watch BYU's A More Perfect Union, and I soak in the emotion and the power of Rob Gardner's The Price of Freedom.

Can I see what John Adams saw? Yes, I think so. Do I care? Am I doing anything about it? I guess that remains to be seen. And so I take a brief moment now to climb up on my soapbox, to open my mouth, and to stand for something.

We live in a nation that bears the name The United States of America. We may informally refer to our nation as America, but, in truth, we belong to a nation of united states. Furthermore, in our governing Constitution the very first words are We the People, suggesting that ours is truly a government of the people, by the people, and for the people. Any government should exist for the betterment and the regulation of its people, contributing to the peaceful coexistence of citizens, groups of citizens, cities, states, etc. All laws exist not to limit or restrict citizens but rather to help keep order. If there were only one driver in the world, there would be no need for traffic signs or speed limits.

When John Adams and the other Founding Fathers signed the Declaration of Independence, there was no federal government. If there had been no conflict among the states that emerged from the revolutionary war or no need for mutual protection, there never would have been a need for a federal government. At that time, there was a handful of colonies, each established with different traditions, religious beliefs, economies, lifestyles, and governing bodies. Each colony had shared a frustration and bitterness toward its mother country: an empire that was unfairly taxing and governing its colonial citizens, a nation that was neither of the people nor for the people. And so these colonies united, determined to reclaim the unalienable freedoms that were their God-given prerogative. Once they had claimed this freedom by victory on the battlefield, they continued on as independent, and very unique, states. There were squabbles and skirmishes over trade, conflicting laws, standing militias, and many other aspects of colonial life. The Continental Congress had been established as a means to unite the colonies during the British crisis. In the years following the war, it was apparent that another federal governing body was essential for the endurance of the fledgling nation. Thus was born the Articles of Confederation and the Constitutional Congress that led to our present system of government.

As the Constitution was drafted, there were a few major obstacles to overcome and compromises to be made. One revolved around the issue of slavery. Should slaves count as population? Should the slave trade be allowed to continue? The southern states felt that the trade was essential to their economic survival and that the federal government should not govern their economy or way of life. Many from the northern states felt strong opposition to slavery for moral or political reasons. A compromise was made. The federal government served as mediator between peoples of differing views, but the autonomy of the states was preserved. They could still govern themselves. Another major issue centered on small states and large states. States with large populations argued that they should have a stronger voice in federal matters as they comprised a larger percentage of the American populace a whole. The smaller states feared that they would not be fairly represented in congress and that their sovereignty would be lost. A compromise was made. Two legislative bodies would exist: one whose membership was based upon population and the other with equal representation. The voice of the people as a whole needed to be acknowledged, but the states deserved their sovereignty.

These compromises lead me to a few viewpoints I've recently felt very strongly about that are founded upon these very concepts upon which our nation was founded.

The first concept: one nation. The issue of balancing power between the states and the federal government is nothing new. John Adams and Thomas Jefferson often argued heatedly over this issue. Adams, a federalist, felt that the federal government should be larger and stronger. Jefferson felt that the states should govern themselves and turn to a federal government only in specific matters.

There were those among the founding fathers who felt that the responsibility of electing the President was too great for the common American and that their elected leaders should have that power. Again, a compromise was reached. The people would elect electors who would vote according to their wisdom and feeling. The electoral vote could be decided by popular vote within a geographic region, but the vote as whole would not be based upon nation-wide popular opinion. The number of electors from each state would be based upon population, but each state would maintain its voice. This system mirrors the Great Compromise of the Constitutional Congress. Again, the populace has a larger voice, but each state is represented appropriately. In the 2000 election, Bush did not have the popular vote of the nation as a whole, but in the Electoral College, he won a majority. There were those who felt this to be a travesty, in that the "we the people" of America did not get the president we wanted, and felt strongly that the electoral system should be done away with. However, considering all of the states and precincts who deserved and required a voice, the correct outcome was realized. Perhaps unknowingly, those calling for the abolishment of the Electoral College are in fact requesting that the USA drop its first two letters.

This same dilemma between the sovereignty of the states and the power of the federal government is reflected in current events today. The state of Arizona is being sued for a state law that was put into effect recently concerning illegal immigrants within that state. The federal government has laws dealing with these immigrants that are not currently being enforced at the national level. Due to a large number of crimes in Arizona among these immigrants, who are not registered citizens or contributing tax payers, a state law that is in line with those established at the federal level has been passed and is being enforced. In effect, Arizona is saying, "The national government has a law that they are not enforcing. We have an immigrant problem in our state right now that is endangering our citizens. We are going to enforce the federal law for them." Arizona is defending its sovereignty and dealing with a state problem. They are not sending all immigrants to concentration camps or suggesting inhumane or un-American action. In fact, they are not suggesting anything more than the national government has already suggested. Through the law suit, the federal government is in effect saying, "Arizona does not have the right to deal with this problem. We can enforce our own laws. The immigration problem is a national problem, and the states can wait for the problem to be dealt with on our time-table or when the enforcement of our law is politically favorable for the current governing officers."

Now the last thing I want to do is debate immigration here. I use the example to suggest the ongoing conflict between the national and state governments. One final heated political topic, which I do not want to debate, is homosexual rights. Until there is more pressing need to deal with this issue at the national level, individual states can decide for themselves how to address the issue. There is indeed a need to protect minorities. The Latter Day Saints of 1846 were a minority that was persecuted and driven from state to state for its beliefs and lifestyle. The homosexual minority, like the illegal immigrants, should not be sent to concentration camps or treated less human or less American than anyone else. I am glad that I am not a politician who has to sort out how rights and benefits might be extended to a "domestic partnership". But as an American, I do have a right to defend my personal moral views of marriage. A few years ago, a number of states debated and voted to place a formal and traditional definition of marriage as the union between man and woman in their state constitutions. In some states, liberal and activist Supreme Court justices had assumed the power of granting legal rights to homosexual marriage within those states by claiming the "unconstitutionality" of the exclusion of such. These constitutional amendments returned the power to the people as a whole to decide how to define marriage. Now someone might call me un-American to feel the way I do about the issue, to speak out, to put up a sign in my yard, or to contribute money to a cause. But, in fact, there is nothing more American than taking a stance on an issue and allowing my voice to be heard. The Founding Fathers and millions of soldiers fought for that very right, and I should be allowed to proudly exercise it. Once again, the voice of the people needs to be heard, but those voices should be heard fairly. We truly are one nation of great diversity. And compromise, trust, and understanding are essential qualities for the continuance of our nation.

The second concept: under God. I will not undertake to describe the utterly hopeless and desperate state of affairs of the continental army of 1776 against a vast and powerful adversary. Read McCullough's 1776 and you'll get a good picture. Read that book, and you may join me, Adams, Jefferson, Washington, and many, many others who feel very strongly that American independence was wrought only by divine providence and intervention. God had a hand in the creation of this nation. As Francis Scott Key penned so well in our national anthem, "And this be our motto: in God is our Trust!"

There are those today who would have us remove any reference to God from our anthem, our currency, our Pledge of Allegiance, and any other national emblem. I recognize that there are those who do not believe in a supreme being. The majority of Americans do. There may come a day, as with the Nephites of old, when the majority of our nation falls into unrighteousness and unbelief. And if that majority elects to remove God completely from our nation, I feel that it will be a sorry tribute to those men and women who founded this great country upon that trust and faith. But, in that day, it would be the right of the government of the people and by the people to do as they see fit. I pray that day never comes, for the God we abandon as a people will surely abandon the people as a whole and we will be like Sodom and Gomorrah of old, a people ripe for destruction. Perhaps in that day the Lord may say, "If I can find 50, or even 40, or 30, or 10 who still trust in me and who espouse my doctrines and principles, I will spare that nation."

But as our nation continues to forget that reliance upon divine providence, by which the founding principles of our country were forged, we are surely headed in that direction.

The final concept: indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. Our nation is only as strong as its people. Many Americans, including myself, often see our country as a strong world power that will never fall. In the 1800's, under the doctrine of Manifest Destiny, many felt that this growing nation was Daniel's prophesied stone cut out of the mountain without hands that would roll forth and fill the earth. Perhaps if Caesar, Napoleon, Alexander the Great, Hitler, or any other powerful commander had access to that book of prophesy, he might feel similarly. Many powerful world empires endured much longer than our nation's short 200 year history. We are far from indestructible. But we can be indivisible as long as we work together. Each American must do his part. And there must truly be liberty and justice for all. As John Adams sang, "I see Americans, all Americans, free forevermore!"

I do not believe that Daniel's prophesy was of the American nation. But I do believe that our country is and can continue to be great in our eyes and in the eyes of the world. We can be a light on a candlestick and a city set upon a hill, a people that lives what it preaches, that truly believes in liberty and freedom for all. And we can continue to share this great vision that John Adams saw with our world today. We can be the loving big brother to step in and defend our little brother from bullies. We can be a voice of reason in a disturbed world. We can be the first to aid a friend in need when unforeseen disasters strike. But for us to continue in this role, and to not fall, as did every other great world empire, it is my strong, but humble, belief that we truly must be one nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all. As a child, I recited this pledge daily in school. Perhaps, as a nation, we would do well to revive this dying pledge and recommit ourselves to the glorious cause of freedom.  

Let the bridge be burned behind me!

God Bless!