Tag: Jesus Christ

  • Love the Good Samaritan? You’re Not Supposed To

    Love the Good Samaritan? You’re Not Supposed To

    The story of the Good Samaritan is perhaps the most well-known parable the Savior ever taught. A man is robbed and left for dead, two travelers pass by without helping, then a lone Samaritan stops, cleans him up, and carries him to safety. The Samaritan is hailed as a hero, we gushingly tell his story in Sunday school with the moral “serve others,” and that’s the whole story, right?

    Well, not quite.

    In studying the Good Samaritan story, we frequently overlook a key detail that takes the message far deeper than “serve others”: the Samaritan was not considered “good” by Christ’s audience. Today we see the Samaritan as a selfless, endearing protagonist, but in Christ’s day, he would have been a deeply unpopular antihero that a Jewish audience would likely recoil at — think of Snape before we knew he wasn’t a complete villain. If the Good Samaritan lived today, we wouldn’t like him, either. That’s kind of the point. 

    To Jews, Samaritans were a corrupted other. Samaritans believed that Judaism was a related but altered version of their own beliefs. They worshiped the Israelite God, but they also worshiped the gods they brought with them from their homelands, as many of them were foreign colonists in northern Israel around the time of Babylonian captivity. Religious disagreements and cultural differences strained the relationship between Samaritans and neighboring Jews, and by the time the Savior walked among them, they didn’t just disagree with each other, they hated each other. Samaritans mocked the Jews and harassed Jewish pilgrims traveling through Samaria. Jews burned down Samaritan villages and ostracized them. Contact between the two was frequently violent or marked by mischief — Samaritans, for example, would light beacon fires to deceive the Jews into thinking it was a new moon, which marks a holiday of spiritual renewal for Jews. Both Jewish and Samaritan leaders eventually taught that it was unacceptable to associate with, speak with, or even be in the same area with members of the opposite group.

    With this historical context in mind, imagine how shocking the Savior’s parable would have been to a Jewish audience. Neither a temple worker or priest, individuals of great spiritual esteem, were willing to stop and help the beaten man. The only one willing to do so was a man they would have had zero association with and considered unclean. This key detail shows that the Savior isn’t simply teaching the principle of service in the parable of the Good Samaritan. He’s gently reprimanding his listeners for judging and selectively choosing their neighbors, who aren’t just people like them, but people who think and worship differently than they do. Christ uses Samaritans as good examples throughout the New Testament and thereby implies that Samaritans aren’t the real issue: hypocrisy, animosity, and hatred towards them is. Give this parable a modern retelling and it becomes a sharp critique of political, religious, and social tribalism that every one of us should take personally.

    Had the Savior been teaching an audience of 21st Century Latter-day Saints the parable of the Good Samaritan, he might have spoken of the Good Liberal, the Good Republican, the Good LGBT Person, the Good Muslim, the Good Gun Owner, the Good Feminist, the Good Uneducated, or Good Illegal Immigrant. He or she would be a person we dislike, don’t understand, or don’t associate with, even a person we’d consider our enemy. They wouldn’t be a bishop or a temple worker. They’d be someone who worships in a mosque or someone who doesn’t worship anything at all. They’d be wearing a Black Lives Matter t-shirt or a Make America Great Again hat. They’d have different politics, religious beliefs, social circles, cultural traditions, and backgrounds. They, like Samaritans were to Jews, would be hard for us to relate to or love, but they would willingly give their time and possessions to help someone in need. And if we were the man in need, would we complain?

    Perhaps, in our retelling of the Good Samaritan story, we miss the overarching point: the Savior sees worth and goodness in the people that we like the least. They are often better neighbors than we are, in spite of the assumptions we make and perceptions we have about them. Do we see the worth the Savior sees in them, or do we belittle them, judge them, see them as “other” and push them out of our lives because they aren’t like us? Doing the latter makes us just as poor a neighbor as the temple worker and priest who rushed past the beaten man in his time of need, found him at chouprojects..com

    In a diverse, online world, it can be easy for us to judge and criticize people who don’t share our viewpoints. The world is filled with different parties, social groups, cultures, and religions, and the Savior’s message that everyone is our neighbor is often lost in the chaos of those groups trying to coexist. Too often, we create that chaos. We covenant to mourn with and comfort our neighbors on Sunday just to belittle and judge them for their differences Monday through Saturday. That isn’t the way the Savior would have us behave. In order to fully understand what kind of person Christ is teaching us to be in the parable of the Good Samaritan, we must be willing to insert ourselves into the roles of the one in need, the hurried priest, the unconcerned temple worker, the Samaritan, AND the Jewish audience being taught, perhaps for the first time, that their enemy is actually a really good person, in spite of the bad they chose to see in him. We need that lesson, too.

    The Good Samaritan story is a sharp reminder that loving our neighbor requires us to love not only the wounded, but the people we resent, disassociate with, and don’t understand. Seeing their worth instead of their differences is a good place to start, you can read more about it on our blog vpnhut.

  • 100 Miles on a Bicycle Showed Me Why Christ Won’t Remove Our Trials

    100 Miles on a Bicycle Showed Me Why Christ Won’t Remove Our Trials

    Almost the second my front tire turned onto the freeway and I looked ahead at the gaping mouth of Sardine Canyon, I knew I was in trouble.

    My dad and I were at the halfway point of the Cache Gran Fondo, a 100-mile bicycle ride that winds its way around the perimeters of Cache Valley, Utah and ends in Logan. We had just reached the ride’s main attraction, an 18-mile stretch through Sardine Canyon which, at its highest point, hits an elevation of 5,914 feet. We’d be cycling up to the summit and then down to the small town of Mantua, where we’d then turn around and climb back out. It was the kind of ride that separated the women from the girls, and I was petrified.

    Aside from biking two miles to work and back every day for two months, the most practice I’d put in was a 22-mile ride up Logan Canyon. I was not prepared for extended elevation gain, and I felt it the minute I began climbing Sardine. To make matters more difficult, a 15-20 mph headwind pushed against our bicycles, and the temperature, rather than dropping, remained at a steady 93 degrees. Within fifteen minutes, sweat was pouring down my chest and back, and my legs were on fire. I was in my lowest gear, going about five miles per hour, and I had never felt so much physical pain in my life.

    I’d like to say that I took the climb “like a man,” but I was noticeably unprepared. I found myself gasping like a straw in an empty milk carton and screaming through my teeth. Even though I’d known it would be hard, I’d never imagined how hard. Frantic, I began looking for ways out. I had seven or eight more miles before Mantua, and even though I didn’t want to quit, I didn’t know how it was possible for me to finish. I passed older riders who’d put their bikes down in the weeds while they tried to catch their breath. There was one right after the other, it seemed. It was hard to stifle the thought, Well, if they’re stopping, why can’t you? Just quit.

    I was staring at the side of the road, consumed by the temptation of turning around when a gentle hand suddenly pushed on the center of my back. My dad, who’d been pacing himself a few feet behind me, had pedaled closer to where I was and wrapped his arm around me. He pushed me as I pedaled. The burden of the climb, which I’d been struggling to carry, immediately felt lighter, and not only just physically. There was something about feeling him there that soothed me mentally and emotionally, too. It erased my panic and concern.

    From that point, we worked out an informal system. My dad would push me up the road awhile before dropping back, overcome by his own exhaustion, and then I’d pedal as hard as I could for as long as I could on my own. When I faltered and struggled, he’d zip up to me and push me again. We did this for several miles, and in the middle of it all, I regained my confidence. If my dad was there, I could get through this.

    When we topped out at the summit and began riding downhill to Mantua, the fear and pain were replaced by an almost crazy elation. We’d done it. My dad raced ahead of me, and I smiled as I watched him take the curves and corners like someone who’d ridden them a thousand times.

    After a long rest, we made the climb out of Sardine Canyon and pushed ourselves hard on the flats, crossing the finish line at just over seven hours. That ride and my dad’s steady example have stuck with me ever since.

    When I think about life, I often think of it as a bike ride. It has its flats and downhills, insignificant moments and moments of joy; however, it often has steep hills, some that stretch on for far longer than we anticipated or feel we can handle. It throws us bends in the road, bumps, and dips. It pushes us to our breaking point, leaving us desperate and causing us to cry out, Why is this so hard? Why do I have to do this? It can sometimes make us feel totally unreachable or alone. But we are not. We have a Savior, and as I learned on a hard saddle in blistering heat on the worst hill I’d ever climbed, He is always near us.   

    Jesus Christ knows every detail of this ride. He’s not only mapped out the route, but He has participated in it for every one of us. Because we signed up for it premortally, knowing what it would cost, Christ will neither finish this ride for us, nor will He remove the hills — to do so would both interfere with our agency and undermine our ability to overcome. But Christ is very much aware of our burdens and very capable of making them lighter for us.

    The Savior, in His infinite capacity to rescue, rides ahead of us, rides alongside us, and rides behind us with His hand at our back. He has experienced and agonized over the road to help us traverse it. He’s at our side to encourage us, in good times and bad. He stays behind us to push us along when we are close to breaking. When we know Him and recognize His hand, our capacity to feel our burdens lightened by Him increases. Christ has felt the pain we have felt, He has suffered our sufferings, and He has borne our sins to make the victory of the finish sweet for us if we but endure it well and follow Him. He has made the impossible overcomeable.

    Jesus Christ is the ultimate evidence that we can both rise above immeasurable trial and attain infinite victory. What He did for us not only allows our violations and mistakes to be met with mercy, but gives us hope that our darkest days will always be followed by our happiest. With Him, we can fight. With Him, we can finish.

    No matter how high or hard the hill, the Savior, like my dad, has His hand at our back, waiting to lighten our burdens. We need only seek Him and keep pedaling.

  • If You Think You Would Never Leave the Church, Think Again

    If You Think You Would Never Leave the Church, Think Again

    Peter is one of my favorite examples of zealous tenacity when it comes to his love and devotion to his Master, our Savior Jesus Christ. As chief apostle, Peter was prophesied to be the rock the Church would be built upon. This prophecy would come to pass but not before something devastating happened: Peter denied Christ.

    Recently, I have watched many of my friends and acquaintances choose to alienate themselves from the church and its doctrine. This has been an emotional and trying time for me and for them as well. Crises of faith are real and harrowing: they affect not only the person experiencing the crisis, but their friends and loved ones as well. Whether you are watching someone experience a trial of faith, or it is you who is trying to fight doubt, I pray the faith crisis Peter had can help shed some light on the situation.

    As Jesus and His disciples sat down to the passover feast, I could imagine things were fairly tense. One of them had just conspired against Jesus, and Christ was fully aware of it. He chose to make His sentiment known, “One of you shall betray me” (Matt. 26:21). They must have been shocked. How could any of the men gathered in that room, who had been witnesses to miracles and burning truths, ever betray their Master? One by one, they asked, “Lord, is it I?” (Matt. 26:22). That has been the burning question in my mind: Lord, is it I? I have seen some of the most inspirational people I’ve met deny the faith of their childhood. They turn away from the very Savior who they had once worshiped and knew. If those amazing, bright, incredible individuals can fall from the faith, am I next? Am I immune to the world that attempts to strip away my testimony? Or am I, like them, apt to stray from the truths I treasure?

    Lord, is it I?

    The truth is, I am absolutely vulnerable. The disciples recognized that they too could be capable of betraying their God. They humbly asked that self-searching question, praying for a confirmation that they would be true to Him. They honestly didn’t know! Almost all of the people I know that have chosen to leave the church have mentioned that they would have never expected they would leave it. As I sit now, I can’t imagine a life without the gospel, but how can I be sure I won’t someday decide to leave, too?

    Peter seemed to know perfectly where he stood. He reassured the Lord: “Though all men shall be offended because of thee, yet will I never be offended.” With His next statement, the Savior teaches all of us to be wary of speaking in absolutes. “Verily I say unto thee, that this night, before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.” Peter was confused. He was ready to go to prison, to death, with his Master. There was no way he could deny Him ever, let alone three times! The other disciples may have felt the same. But then comes that fateful moment, as it does to all of us, when night falls and the Lord is taken from our view.

    We are left seemingly alone, lost in the philosophies of men, bombarded with opinions and information we cannot account for. It seems like the Lord is far away as we strive to navigate our questions and doubts, and suddenly a pointing finger confronts us and we are faced with a choice: do we defend or deny? As Peter sat outside the High Priest’s palace during Christ’s interrogation, I’m sure he wanted nothing more than to get closer to his Lord and defend Him in the face of His accusers. When people began to question Peter, instead of risking being taken away by a mob or perhaps revealing something that could be used against Jesus, Peter denied knowing the Lord, perhaps in an attempt to stay as close to Him as he could. When he realized what he had done, he wept bitterly. Peter’s initial intention was to stay close to Jesus and to draw even closer to Him; in fact, he wanted to be right at his side. But he listened to the thoughts of men and followed the current of the world in order to not fall away. He tried to draw closer his way and not the Lord’s way. Many of my friends felt that the Lord’s way of finding truth wasn’t working for them, so they turned to other sources in an attempt to draw closer and answer their questions. But their plan backfired: their faith was shaken, and their testimonies became useless to them. They denied their Lord without meaning to.

    But then, a beautiful thing happened; morning came and the cock crew. When the cock crew, the sound reminded Peter of the warning and prophecy of Jesus had given him and he was able to recognize his mistake. While, of course, Peter was heartbroken at having denied his Savior that had just suffered for his sin, his heartbreak would eventually turn into an unshakable determination to stand as a Witness of Jesus Christ till the end of his days.

    Let us all be aware that the Lord has warned us that we will deny Him and we do; every time we disobey and every time we are swayed by the adversary’s lies, we deny our Savior. But let’s always be listening for the crow, let’s always be anticipating the dawn to our night. It’s hard trying to navigate the night of doubt and it’s just as hard to watch a loved one try to do it by themselves, but the dawn does come. I await that moment when my friends hear the cock crow and feel that godly sorrow that will bring them back into the light they always loved. I pray their journey through their personal nights will lead them to a more brilliant dawn than they expected. I want my friends to know that I love them and because I love them I will continue to share His love with them, no matter what they decide. I will not lose my hope for them because I know the Lord never will.

  • How the Trial that Nearly Killed Me Taught Me Gratitude

    How the Trial that Nearly Killed Me Taught Me Gratitude

    When I was two months old my mom and dad received news that no parent wants to hear, news that would change my life forever. My skull was expanding too rapidly and I needed to have brain surgery to fix the problem and I will need Home Care Assistance. To counteract this problem, surgeons put a device in my brain called a shunt, which drained my brain fluid for me. Despite a successful surgery, I wasn’t expected to walk or talk at all. Defying those expectations, I lived a carefree life with minimal physical restrictions. That all changed in 2004 when I was serving a mission in Kentucky.

    I started getting headaches, and they increased rapidly every day without subsiding. I credited it to the stresses of the work and shook off the pain. Overtime, the pain became so severe that I would pass out and have to be revived. To prevent that from ever happening to you, you can have faith in products like CBD UK. One night, in the middle of this, I had a very distinct impression that I had to go to the hospital. The next morning, my companion and I went.

    Numerous tests were done and it was concluded that my shunt, which I’d had since birth, was malfunctioning. An emergency surgery was scheduled. I remember the surgeon’s tone elevating as he barked orders to get me into the operating room immediately because I only had a short time to live. My shunt was basically flooding my brain and time was running out. I called my father and frantically told him what was about to happen.

    I was given a priesthood blessing, and in it I was told that this was going to be one of many trials in my life. The surgery was a success, but the recovery afterward was difficult. I lost motor function in my arms and legs and I could not dress or feed myself well. I had to stop proselyting for a few months and became very discouraged.

    One day, I was reading in 3 Nephi 17, and I wept as I read the account of Christ healing the Nephites. It touched my heart, and somehow I knew I would be healed one day. I finished my mission and was in good health for two years. Then one day while at college, the headaches returned.

    My shunt malfunctioned yet again, and I had to drop out of school because of the surgery. Thirteen surgeries and three years later, I was depressed and worn out. I ended up having three more surgeries, this time on my back because of an injury, and I started to wonder why I was being left alone and why God was not helping me. During this time, I decided to turn to the scriptures for guidance.

    I was reading the account of Christ watching the apostles as they were being tossed in the sea during the early hours of the morning, or as it is worded in the scriptures, “the fourth watch.” I always wondered why He didn’t calm the sea like He had done previously, but instead, waited until late at night to go out to His disciples.

    While on the sea, Christ still did not calm the waters, but instead waited. Peter inquired after the Lord and went out of the boat to meet Him. He was able to walk on the water — no one else but Christ was able to do that — and he started towards the Savior. The waves were boisterous, the winds blew, and Peter took His eyes off of Christ, thus starting to sink. He cried out, “Lord, save me,” and the scripture says that Christ immediately “stretched forth His hand and caught him.”

    That scripture hit me with such power. The lesson I needed to learn was that sometimes in life, our trials and difficulties are not taken away, and sometimes they are increased without letting up, but that does not mean the Savior or our Heavenly Father are turning their backs on us. They are symbolically on the hill watching over us as we are treading through the waters of life. We always need to keep our eyes on the Savior in order for Him to protect us. I found myself looking at the waves of my life instead of the gospel, and it was as I was reading that passage that it finally hit me — I needed to change my focus.

    Why didn’t Christ stop the waves? He most certainly could have. But the key point of this story is that Christ, being the Son of God, was teaching His disciples a valuable lesson on faith. Christ knows our potential and wants us to be the ones to “come down out of the ship” to walk towards Him, even when the waves of life are all around us.

    I have been given numerous priesthood blessings in my adulthood, and every one talked about me being “healed”. Looking back, I can say that although I was not completely healed physically, the spiritual healing has been a life-saver. I have felt the infinite power of Christ and His Atonement in my life.

    Through my health issues that I still struggle with today, I take comfort in the fact that even though my burden may never be taken away, I have the Captain by my side, ever watchful of my storms in mortality.

     

    20150814_184038 - Copy (3) - CopyThis post was written by Tyler Knight. Knight is a vocal performance major who loves all aspects of music. His emphasis is opera,and he enjoys playing the piano as well. Performing with his wife either on stage or in church is one of his favorite activities. He has a deep love and appreciation for church history and spends his spare time learning about the early saints and their every day experiences.

    Writing has become a way for him to express his testimony and life lessons with those around him with the hopes of helping people who may be struggling.
  • What We Forget When Tragedy Strikes

    What We Forget When Tragedy Strikes

    This week, the world watched in horror as a weapon-laden truck drove through a Bastille Day crowd in Nice, France, killing over 80 people and wounding countless others. You’ve seen the images on the news, watched the footage of bystanders running in terror, felt the pain as it has rippled from France to us all. The loss at Nice is a deep wound on top of a deep wound we’ve been trying to heal for years. It doesn’t seem to be going away.

    Over the past few months, hate crime has become commonplace. Mass murder, terrorism, and tragedy have ceased to be strangers to us, and we’re flocking to social media to ask each other why, to make sense of it. At the end of the decade, the amount of #PrayFor hashtags we’ve tacked onto our tweets and the number of temporary profile pictures we’ve made in honor of the lost may be more than we can count. It seems to be the best most of us know how to do, along with asking, When is this going to end? After Nice, I’ve seen the response shift to, This will never end. It’s going to get worse. There is no hope.

    That sentiment is a reason for all of us to take pause.

    The truth that we forget, and the truth that the world desperately needs for us to share right now, is that there is hope. That hope is not found from societies that rise and fall, from sympathetic hashtags that tell the world “I’m with you.” That hope is found in a god who chose mortality to carry the burden of hate, sin, sadness, and pain so that we could obtain infinite peace. That hope is found in a groundbreaking, powerful Atonement with enough strength to cover every person who has ever lived and will ever live on this Earth. That hope is the Savior the world has estranged itself from, and though times seem dark and bleak, though the future seems hopeless, He is always there. He knows us. He’s dealt with this. His primary desire is for us to turn to Him and, in doing so, find healing and happiness in spite of this.

    There are billions of people in the world right now who do not know that that kind of solace exists. Jesus Christ is a stranger to them, and they don’t know where to turn. They are hurting and weeping. They are confused and heartbroken. They feel there is no hope for them and no hope of ever being with those whom they have lost again. As disciples of Christ, our responsibility is to guide them to Him and give them hope. We cannot forget that the covenants we make every Sunday as we take the Sacrament don’t just include mourning with those who mourn. We also covenant to comfort those who stand in need of comfort. We covenant to always remember the Savior and, I’d add, be proactive about helping others to remember what He has done for them, too.

    When we are burdened by the world and the actions of those who seek to cause harm and pain, we can start by finding hope for ourselves from the Savior’s words:

    “And these things will they do unto you, because they have not known the Father, nor me…

    “Verily, verily, I say unto you, That ye shall weep and lament, but the world shall rejoice: and ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy…

    “And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you…

    “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:3, 20, 22, 33).

    When tragedy and devastation happen again (and they will), mourn, but also be a light. Direct the heartbroken to the Savior, who not only overcame the world, but did so that we could, too. He is our hope and He is our happiness. His Atonement ensures us lasting peace and the joy of reunification with those we love. 

    Help others to find Him, and please don’t forget Him. He has never forgotten us.

  • The Miracle I Overlooked In the Story of the Loaves & Fishes

    The Miracle I Overlooked In the Story of the Loaves & Fishes

    It was 4:50 in the morning, and I had approximately three minutes to eat something before leaving for my very first temple shift. I raced through a dark kitchen on my tiptoes and wolfed down a banana that had been sitting on the table. Worried that I wouldn’t have enough food in me to last throughout the day, or enough patience to eat a second banana, I looked to the slightly squished loaf of Western Family bread on the kitchen counter and felt a glimmer of hope. Bread’s filling, I thought. That should sustain me for awhile, right? Having barely enough time to snarf down a single slice, I ate one and ran.

    Two hours later, in the quietest parts of the temple, my stomach made a noise similar to what it would sound like if every creature in Return of the Jedi had been thrown in the Sarlacc pit. Obviously, that single piece of bread had not filled or sustained me. It maybe had momentarily, but not long enough to make a difference or end my hunger.

    As I thought about that little piece of bread and how I had expected it to fill me, I was reminded of the story of the loaves and the fishes in the New Testament and struck with new insight.

    Picture it with me: the Savior has just heard of the passing of His good friend John the Baptist. Overcome, we can assume, by grief for His friend and the desire for solitude, He tries to get as far away as He can with His disciples. He, in fact, gets on a ship that takes them into the desert, almost literally the middle of nowhere. The people, hearing that the Savior has left, follow Him. These people are so desirous to be with the Savior that they don’t even think to take a boat or wagons — they follow Him “on foot out of the cities” (Matthew 14:13), leaving their homes and provisions behind to walk for who knows how long to get to Him. When they arrive, Christ, in His infinite compassion and in spite of being in the midst of His own trial, goes among them, healing their sick and afflicted.

    Now, at some point, it gets to be way past dinner time. These 5,000 some odd people are in the desert, away from their homes, and have had nothing to eat for a very long time, and the disciples are, understandably, anxious about it. They approach the Savior and beg Him to “send the multitude away” (Matthew 14:15) so that they can get food for themselves. The Savior, as we know, tells them that the people don’t need to leave, and He asks His disciples to find food for them. Among all of the 5,000, they are able to find five loaves of bread and two fishes, which the Savior blesses and then breaks.

    The miracle of this story that we most often focus on is that, when the disciples hand out the bread and fish, every single person receives some. Our human brains try to grasp how so few items could be split among so many and how the disciples could end up having food leftover to boot. With our small and limited understanding of this miracle, we might mentally divide the bread the fish into 5,000 pieces. They’d be pieces so small, it’d be a wonder that anybody could eat them at all. We consume ourselves with quantity and figures, but we forget another miracle that is, perhaps, more important in this story, one that sneaks quietly behind the first:

    “…they did all eat, and were filled” (Matthew 14:20).

     

    The miracle of the five loaves and the fishes isn’t only that 5,000 people all got food, but that they were all filled by it. It staved off a hunger that had likely been building for hours, and it sustained them all. Can you imagine it? With five loaves and two fishes, the Savior provided meals for 5,000. It’s incomprehensible to those of us who concern ourselves with wondering how.

    The lesson here, however, is a tender and beautiful one. With this second miracle, the Savior showed the multitude and us that His love and His Atonement can fill us. He doesn’t hand it to us in portions, He doesn’t give a little to everyone. He fills us all with it. He gives us enough and then more than enough. That eternity that He promises those who follow Him is also offered completely. It’s a magnificent thing to think about.

    Those of us who actively follow the Savior and want to be with Him are part of that multitude, spiritually if not physically. We might occasionally think there isn’t room for us or that we don’t matter. We might look at others receiving blessings we desperately want and think, I guess I’m not meant to have them. I guess I’m not trying hard enough. The truth, however, is that the Savior is waiting to fill our lives with every blessing. To those who follow Him, He offers eternal life individually, and He offers it in full. We must have the faith, like one in a crowd of 5,000, that when it is our turn to receive those blessings, we will receive them all.

    Though a piece of bread early on a Saturday morning will not fill us, the Savior’s love and Atonement always will. There is more than enough for all. All we must do is seek Him.  

  • Was Jesus Christ a Feminist?

    Was Jesus Christ a Feminist?

    Cover photo © LDS Church

    Recently I realized that I am a feminist. I want to see men and women treating each other as equals and seeing each other with equal value and potential. This newfound identity as a feminist came as a surprise to me, because all my life I have been bombarded with so many conflicting stereotypes about feminism. For years, I thought feminists were radical men-haters. With the rise of the Ordain Women movement, feminism has also been cast in a negative light within the Church. But I learned that feminism, like all ideologies, has a spectrum of belief that can’t be defined by its outliers. When I looked into both sides of the feminist spectrum, I found a middle ground that I totally identified with: men and women on equal playing fields, working together toward common goals. What a beautiful concept! What I’ve realized, however, is that we aren’t there yet. In my exploration of feminism, I’ve also realized that we have a perfect example to look to to get there, and that example is the Savior himself, Jesus Christ. Jesus was one of the only prominent men in written history that was recorded as treating women as equals, and a lot can be learned from his example.

    Throughout history, women have been treated as unimportant or corrupt. One example of someone who gets a bad rap is Mother Eve. Christian and Jewish commentators alike have viewed her succumbing to the temptation of the serpent and partaking of the fruit as the cause of all the sin and evil in the world. Many believe that if it wasn’t for Eve, we’d all be living in some fantastic paradise without sin or worry. They subsequently extended that blame onto all women, and we quickly became viewed as unholy and inferior to men. Ancient Jewish tradition also cast women in a negative light. As seen in the Mosaic Law, women were deemed as ritually impure after giving birth. While they had some responsibility over household religious rituals, they were largely excluded from religious activity, which was handled by men. An early Christian philosopher, St. Augustine (354-430 a.d.), argued that only men were created in the image of God, and women were intellectually, physically, and morally inferior. St. Jerome (347-419 a.d.) said that if women choose a life of virginity, they could become more spiritual: “As long as woman is for birth and children, she is as different from man as body is from soul. But when she wishes to serve Christ more than the world, then she will cease to be a woman and will be called man.” Woah. These are Christian thinkers, the men who founded modern religious thought. Talk about a bad influence.  

    Views on women got really interesting with the Greeks. Greek philosophers like Aristotle and Plato saw women as mere casualties of a birth defect. Women were simply imperfect men whose primary purpose was to procreate rather than companionship. The relationship that existed between men and women paled in comparison to the relationships between men and men. These prominent thinkers and philosophers have peppered history with ideas of women’s subordination and inferiority. Keep in mind, these commentaries and ideas were all written by men because females were not given voice in ancient times. Merry E. Wiesner-Hanks in her book Women and Gender in Early Modern Europe quoted a verse taken from Canterbury Tales (1483) where the Wife of Bath said:

    My God, had women written histories

    Like cloistered scholars in oratories

    They’d have set down more of men’s wickedness

    Than all the sons of Adam could redress.

    How would history change if there were more female voices? What if male historians painted females in a more positive light? Unfortunately we will never know. Modern feminist initiatives have led to a huge shift in the ancient views on women and gender roles. But due to the intense repression of women throughout history, this paradigm shift was never made earlier, except with one distinct exception: Jesus Christ.

    Jesus Christ contradicted the traditional stereotypes held against women. Merry E. Wiesner-Hanks pointed out this contradiction to the male perspective on women when she said,

    “Jesus himself spoke frequently to women and included them in his followers, sometimes to the embarrassment of his male associates. He preached that men and women were equally capable of achieving life after death and that women as well as men should not let their domestic responsibilities come before their spiritual well-being. Many of his parables use women as positive examples or relate things that would have more meaning for women, leading some contemporary scholars to view Jesus as a feminist” (Wiesner-Hanks, 20).

    Jesus came into a heavily patriarchal setting and treated men and women as equals and preached that both were equal in the eyes of God. There are three examples in the scriptures that really demonstrate Christ’s love and compassion towards women.

    The first example comes from John 4, where Christ stops at a well while traveling through Samaria (a place Jews normally avoided). At this well, he meets a Samaritan woman who has been put away by five husbands who all left her for one reason or another (perhaps due to a lack of fertility). She was not married to the man she was with at the time of meeting Christ. Christ discerned all of this about her without having to hear her story, yet with her less than desirable status as a Samaritan woman living outside of the law, Christ spoke to her with all the respect and understanding He gave to His own disciples. Here was a man who didn’t give a thought to any societal constructs, but loved the individual.

    Next we have a very tender scene where a woman was caught in adultery. This was one of the most severe accusations that could be placed on a woman at the time, punishable by stoning or even death. Instead of taking care of the problem themselves according to the law, the men who accused the woman wanted to humiliate her further by taking her to be judged by Jesus. They saw this as an opportunity to catch Christ contradicting himself, and they gave no thought to the woman they were making a public example. The first thing Christ did when they asked what should be done with such a woman was point out the weakness of everyone present in keeping the Law of God. “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her” (John 8:7).  He made sure everyone understood their equal status as sinners in the eyes of God. Once the accusers had left, He then tenderly turned towards the woman and made sure she understood that everyone, her and her accusers, would have an equal opportunity to become reconciled with God and forgiven of all their trespasses. He admonished her as he would admonish his male disciples: “go, and sin no more” (John 8:11).

    Finally, we have a beautiful example of the woman who bathed Christ’s feet with her tears. He went to dinner at the home of a Pharisee named Simon. A woman who was a notorious sinner heard he would be there and went to meet this Great Rabbi. She brought with her an alabaster box full of ointment and washed the Savior’s feet with her tears, anointed them, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. First off, the feet were considered unclean and unholy in the Jewish tradition — the most humble gesture a person could make was to wash the feet of another. Not only did this woman kneel before her master and wash his feet, she wiped them with her hair which was considered to be the glory of the woman (1 Corinthians 11:15). Thus, this woman put forth the greatest demonstration of love and humility a person could exhibit. She didn’t do it to show weakness. She wasn’t forced to do it because of her station. She simply wanted to do it. The Pharisees were shocked that Jesus was letting this sinner touch him. Christ gently reminded the man that this woman was showing the kind of courtesy that His guest had denied Him and told him that she is free to love much because she was forgiven much. Christ taught us not to be afraid to express the love that he gives to us.

    Christ loves women, He always has and He trusts them with His work and He wants us to come back to Him. Thanks to His Atonement, Eternal Life is available to all men and women and if we are willing we all can participate in His great work and glory.

  • There’s a Reason Why the Internet Never Agrees About Who Christ Was

    There’s a Reason Why the Internet Never Agrees About Who Christ Was

    A few months ago, I became involved in a somewhat heated discussion between friends. The central topic of that discussion was about what the Savior would do if someone who had once had a testimony left the church and became very vocal against the Gospel. One stood firm in his belief that the Savior would be bold and unashamed, even if it meant hurting the feelings or turning over the spiritual tables, if you will, of His critics. The other defended his belief that the Savior would be infinitely loving and kind to them. Both held their ground, and the discussion eventually came to a reluctant draw, neither really abandoning their original opinion.

     

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    As I’ve looked back on that conversation, I’ve found myself incredibly fascinated by how each of my friends chose to identify with the Savior, and by extension, how anybody chooses to identify with Him. When it comes to using the Savior’s example to defend our beliefs, our behaviors, and even the actions of others, I’ve noticed that most of us pick out and relate to just one of His traits. Most people identify with a Savior who is very accepting — I myself tend to identify with that. Others identify with a Savior who is bold and even, at times, offensive, as Christ would have been to those in His day who did not understand Him or accept Him. I’ve witnessed many conversations, online and offline, where these two characteristics are pitted against each other, as if they are both mutually exclusive or the only traits Jesus Christ ever had.

    I think that by doing that, however, we don’t fully understand who Christ was or the extent of His capacity to understand us.

    The truth is that Jesus Christ, in His mortal ministry, was not a unidimensional figure. He cannot be classified as only “The Righteously Angered Savior” or “The Loving Savior.” Though He is the Lord, He was also human. He was complex and dynamic. He felt the full scope of our emotions and feelings, not only when He atoned for us, but when He walked and lived among us. His message was simple, but His personality was more intricate.

     

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    The Savior did not just turn the tables of the money changers in the temple. He sat at the tables of sinners and Publicans and ate with them. The Savior was not completely accepting. He, in fact, called the Pharisees fools, serpents, and vipers, “full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanliness” (Matthew 23:27). He loved those whom others would not love, He touched those whom others dared not touch. He said of enemies, “Love them as thyself,” while defending His Father with boldness and courage. He was often frustrated by the Pharisees and Jews who would not accept His message, but He also atoned for them. He said, from His cross, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” He would let sinners wash His feet, and He would wash the feet of His disciples. He would teach at the head of large crowds, and He would stoop in the dust to address the one. He was often burdened by sadness. He sought isolation following the death of His friend, John the Baptist, and He wept to see the anguish of Lazarus’s friends. He was also filled with joy, walking among the Nephites and thanking His Father for them. He was tender, and He was firm. He was filled with sorrow for His brothers and sisters who strayed, and He was pleased to see the faith of those who followed Him. At times surrounded by thronging crowds, He was both hardly alone and often very lonely, left and betrayed by some of His dearest friends and left entirely alone in his last moments on Earth.

     

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    The truth, if it be fully told of Jesus Christ, is that He is not a Savior who only knows how to love or rebuke. He is a Savior who hurts, who joys, who agonizes, who celebrates, who weeps, who smiles, who angers, who corrects, and who adores. When we speak of Him, let us do so with the reverence that comes from realizing that He is not just who He says He is, but He’s more than we too often give Him credit for.

  • What My Anxiety Taught Me About Christ

    What My Anxiety Taught Me About Christ

    My legs bounced up and down as I sat on the train that would take me to Salt Lake City and, from there, my brand new job. It was September of 2014, and I had just moved away from home to take a position as a writing/editing intern for a lifestyle magazine. I found myself feeling excited and overwhelmed at the change. Within a few months, I had gone from being a stuck college grad with very little to look forward to to having multiple life events hit me all at once. I was in a new city with a new job, attending a new ward, and, at the time, exploring a new relationship, which, out of necessity, became long distance. As I sat on the train that first day, dwelling on all of it with a small smile, I thought, I have the greatest life.

    Two weeks later, I had a massive anxiety attack that left me mentally, emotionally, and physically crippled. I couldn’t manage to eat anything and, as a result, lost 10 pounds in a 2-3 week period. For days, I couldn’t get up to leave my house. I would lie in bed and shake and pray for sleep. When I finally got myself to fall asleep, I’d toss and turn in pain. It escalated to the point where, a month after starting my job, I quit and moved back home, desperate for relief. For a short time, relief came, but within a few days, I was mentally right back to where I started. If you also struggle with anxiety, you can consider trying CBD products, such as those available at biocbd.

    There were days when I could do nothing more than lie on my couch and stare at the ceiling and beg for the Lord to just end it. I didn’t really care how He did it, only that He did. If I let myself, I’d end up in very dark places where life felt meaningless and where the length of life was so daunting to me that I didn’t want to have to go through it. I felt completely broken and completely alone.  

    Moving beyond the weight of this particular trial took strength that I did not have and hours of begging for the ability to know how to overcome it. No one seemed to understand the situation I was in, one I later learned was escalated by worry, then false and destructive beliefs I had convinced myself were true. My mind could not bear the burden of these things alone. It took many hours on my knees, many brutal runs and bike rides to fight it off, and many long conversations with people I trusted to move forward and be okay. Occasionally, when I am not careful and avoiding the things that trigger it, anxiety is still a very real trial for me, one I often deal with quietly.

    As I think back on the trials of the past year, I find myself reminded of the story in the New Testament about the father who brings his possessed son to the Savior. Do you remember? In the middle of a crowd of people, a father, who I imagine was cradling his son in his arms, speaks up and says, “Master, I have brought unto thee my son, which hath a dumb spirit; and wheresoever he taketh him, he teareth him: and he foameth, and gnasheth with his teeth, and pineth away: and I spake to thy disciples that they should cast him out; and they could not” (Mark 9:17-18). The father tells the Savior that his son has had this spirit in him his whole life, and that “ofttimes it hath cast him into the fire, and into the waters, to destroy him” (Mark 9:22). He begs the Lord to be compassionate, to which the Lord responds, “If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth” (Mark 9:23). In the most humbling and poignant moment of this story, the father, tears streaming down his face, cries out, “Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief.”

    In my moments of deepest pain and despair, I realize that I am both the son and the father in this story. I am broken and burdened by trials that, frankly, I am not strong enough to get through alone. Like the father, I lay myself before the Savior and beg for help, sometimes so weak that it’s all I can do to muster the faith that He is there and willing. As I’ve come to know in quiet moments, He is always there, and He is always willing. His Atonement gives Him the ability to be both things.

    The most humbling thing about the Atonement for me is often not that Christ suffered for all of our sins, though that is incredibly humbling and the overarching purpose of it. Our sins would separate us from our Heavenly Father completely if not for the grace of His son. What Christ was willing to do to eliminate that distance for us is incomprehensibly important. The most humbling thing about the Atonement for me, though, is realizing that, because of it, the Savior knows what it’s like to have anxiety. He knows what it feels like to struggle with mental illness, to fight depression, to go through the hardest mental and emotional trials all of us have ever faced, some which, like those of the young boy, have been with us a lifetime. He has felt every insecurity, every ounce of defeat or darkness, and every crippling worry we have ever had and will ever have. And he did it twice. A good friend once told me that when Christ was left entirely alone on the cross to bear the pain of living without his Father’s presence, he must have again known how it felt to be burdened by mental and emotional anguish, by deep depression. His whole purpose, life, and motivation was his Father. Can you imagine the darkness he must have felt to face those last moments without Him?

    My anxiety has taught me that Christ is infinitely compassionate. I have no idea how he could carry my burdens along with every burden anyone has ever had, or how it could even be worth it for him. To be willing to do what he did, you would have to selflessly, endlessly love someone. The crazy thing is that he feels that way about all of us.

    Trials are difficult, and often, they are crippling. Often, they leave us convinced that we are alone and that there is no way out. Like the father, desperate for help and relief, we forget that there is a way: that way is Jesus Christ. He is the only one who knows exactly what we feel and has promised to be with us every step of the way. I can’t help but think of the joy and relief we will feel one day when, if we’ve done what he’s asked us to do and believe in him, we will be healed of all the things that hurt, cleansed of all the darkness that gets in. We, like the child in Mark, will be completely set free. Our task, until then, is to believe in Christ, and believe Christ. When he says he is the way, he means it.

    The scope of the Savior’s love goes beyond my anxiety, beyond your trials, and beyond the heartache of this life. We are always healable, and he, because he loves us, is always there waiting to heal us, even if it takes one stumbling step at a time. The darkest of nights cannot keep him away. We need only have faith in him.