My article today is not long or profound; it is simply one of gratitude. A few weeks ago, I wrote about the example of my son, Matthew, who had suffered over the last three years from the effects of kidney failure, hemophilia, hepatitis, West Nile Virus, cancer, respiratory failure and grand mal seizures. After he had survived all of these maladies, and when, after multiple attempts and failures to find a matching donor, he finally was scheduled for a kidney transplant only to lose the opportunity hours before surgery because of a rare blood chemistry shift. Amazingly, the response of Matt and Kristin, his wife, was to regroup around their faith, declare their allegiance to God, and move forward toward the promised miracle.
But nevertheless, we were faced with a dilemma. The possibility of a matching kidney now seemed more remote than ever. Over the last year, we had tried almost every family member and come up short. On top of everything else, Matt had developed antibodies to eleven common antigens. Essentially, he is allergic to most kidneys. Remarkably, his sister, Katie, emerged as a perfect match, like an identical twin, but she was rejected twice because the anatomy of her kidneys made harvesting one of them risky. But she was not to be denied. After Matt’s latest disappointment on March 5th, she tried again. The family had prayed and fasted one more time, asking for a miracle. Several days later, the surgeons huddled and determined that the head surgeon could, indeed, perform the surgery on Katie, and she was offered the position.
And just like that, we had a donor!
The day after Matt’s latest disappointment, I observed Matt and Kristin’s response and wrote an article for Meridian called, “Why I Believe in God.” The article referenced the title of Matt’s journal and Kristin’s and his declaration of faith. In response to the article, our family was suddenly overwhelmed with love from well-wishers all over the world. Offers to help poured in. Some readers shared their stories or found strength in Matt and Kristin’s story. Others placed his name on temple rolls, prayed, and entered into fasts. We felt your strength. We were exhausted, and you buoyed us up. I am convinced that this is the condition of Zion-a situation of love and the absence of lack. Having written about this subject for years, I came away from this experience believing that there are many saints who could easily segue into the priesthood society of Zion at a moment’s notice, because they are already Zion people.
I am sitting here in the surgical waiting room with Buffie, my wife, Kristin, Matt’s wife, and Jason Purdie, Katie’s husband. Kristin just took a call. The surgeons have just removed Katie’s kidney successfully, and they are preparing it to transplant into Matt. So far, so good. We are tired. We took a survey, and the most sleep any of us received last night was two hours. We started at 4:30 a.m, and now we have settled in for a five-hour wait. Jason and I gave blessings to both Katie and Matt. The image of the Israelites’ day of deliverance came to mind. I tried to imagine what it must have been like to one day be a slave and the next day become a free man, walking away forever from bondage. How many prayers and tears preceded that day of days? I suppose that many people lost faith that life could ever be different. Perhaps some people stopped praying all together, imaging that their prayers were vain. I am reminded of verses in Malachi 3.
Ye have said, It is vain to serve God: and what profit is it that we have kept his ordinance, and that we have walked mournfully before the Lord of hosts? And now we call the proud happy; yea, they that work wickedness are set up; yea, they that tempt God are even delivered.
That is to say, what good has it done us to serve God and keep the commandments? We look around us and see wicked people apparently happy and prospering, and yet we, who have tried to be obedient, suffer in the bondage of our circumstances, and see no relief in sight. Why are wicked delivered and we continue to languish in captivity? Where is our deliverance? Has God forgotten us?
Then, the Lord’s answer:
Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another: and the Lord hearkened, and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name. And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels; and I will spare them, as a man spareth his own son that serveth him.
That is to say, the Lord absolutely remembers us. In fact, a book of remembrance is kept in heaven. This book records the sufferings, declarations of faith, acts of patience, and the manifestations of devotion to God. The Lord hearkens to such people. He knows and loves those who take upon themselves and remember his name despite all odds. God claims such people as his own; they are his jewels, his most prized possessions. He promises to spare them and care for them as would a father, who cares for his devoted son.
We are not forgotten after all. We are being “written up” and polished. When our story is completed and when our shine is the brightest, the Lord will declare, “It is enough; it is finished.” Then with a strong hand, he will deliver us. He is called the Deliverer for good reason. We can count on his fulfilling that title.
We have been in the surgical waiting room a long time now. Recently, Katie’s surgeon told us that her surgery went perfectly and she is in recovery. Matt’s surgery was going equally well, and he said he had “a good feeling.” Over the past roller-coaster year, after the eight tries and seven disappointments, I have wondered why. Why do Matt and Kristin have to continue going through this agony? Why so hard? Why the delay? Then the Spirit whispered, “This has more to do with your family’s education than for Matt and Kristin’s education.” Then I remembered that every eligible person has stepped forward and invested in the outcome. This is no small decision. Considering the donation of an organ is a sanctifying event that teaches you something about the Atonement that is very personal. You can never again look at people the same way. If giving my family an experience with the Atonement was the Lord’s goal, he certainly succeeded. We will never forget this event; we all took ownership.
Matt’s surgeon just met with Kristin and informed her that Katie’s kidney that had been placed in Matt is functioning perfectly, as if it was his own. What a miracle we have experienced! Only a few weeks ago, we felt as though we were doomed to the darkness of midnight, but now we see the sun breaking on the horizon.
As we gather up our things and wait for the call giving us permission to visit Katie and Matt, I am reminded of an incident when the apostles were attempting a sea crossing by night.
And when even was come, the ship was in the midst of the sea, and he alone on the land.
And he saw them toiling in rowing; for the wind was contrary unto them: and about the fourth watch of the night he cometh unto them, walking upon the sea, and would have passed by them.
But when they saw him walking upon the sea, they supposed it had been a spirit, and cried out:
For they all saw him, and were troubled. And immediately he talked with them, and saith unto them, Be of good cheer: it is I; be not afraid. And he went up unto them into the ship; and the wind ceased: and they were sore amazed in themselves beyond measure, and wondered.
When we find ourselves toiling in the midst of the sea, the wind contrary to us-when we are afraid and troubled, encompassed by the blackness of the “fourth watch,” the darkest time of night, when we cry out, he will speak to us “immediately,” saying, “Be of good cheer. It is I; be not afraid.” Then he will board our fragile vessel, take a seat beside us, calm the wind and storm, and navigate us safely to shore.
It is a truth. I have witnessed it time and again. And I have witnessed it once more today. Thank you for your prayers and support.
When I think back over the last three years, I wonder how anyone could have survived such an ordeal. In July 2006, Matt’s kidney failed. He only had one-mine. I had donated it to him in 1990 when both of his kidneys abruptly failed. He was only fifteen. Now he had carried around my kidney for 16 years, and it was getting old and sick. Matt had been nursing it along for the last year. The doctors had ordered several ultrasounds, and each time they had seen a couple of troubling spots, but the biopsies had come back negative. No cancer…or so we supposed.
To complicate things, Matt was born with severe hemophilia, a bleeding disorder that prevents his blood from coagulating. Because hemophiliacs hemorrhage into joints, and because blood acts like an acid on joints, causing arthritis, both of Matt’s ankles have been fused. Perhaps worse, over the years that he had received blood products to coagulate his blood, he had become infected with hepatitis C. When the doctors prescribed Interferon to clear the disease from his liver, they informed him that the Interferon could kill his kidney. Even then, they only gave him a 20 percent chance that the treatment would arrest the hepatitis.
Faced with two impossible choices, Matt chose a third alternative: Turn it over to God. That is the way he has always handled things. His faith would sustain him, but little did we know that he was about to enter the worst set of trials of his life. Matt calls it his crucible.
Remembering the First Kidney Transplant
Today is March 5, 2009. Tomorrow morning, my wife, Buffie, and I had planned to arise at 4:30 so that we could be at University Hospital in Salt Lake City for Matt’s kidney transplant. Our son-in-law, Ryan, was scheduled to be the donor. Ryan was the last of a long list of potential donors, who, over the past ten months, were cancelled out for one reason or another. Buffie and I would have been accompanied at the hospital by our daughter, Lindsay, who is Ryan’s wife, Kristin, who is Matt’s wife, and Ryan’s parents, Lee and Tani.
The last few days have filled me with emotional memories. When I donated a kidney to Matt in 1990, I thought I was pretty tough. Then when the day came to check into the hospital, I fell apart. I was scared. Tears came easily, and I was embarrassed. A few days ago, Ryan asked me some questions about the upcoming operation, and soon he had to stand up and leave the room. Lindsay asked me to stop explaining.
My donating a kidney totally changed my life. On one occasion I told Ryan that being a donor is an experience that I would not deny anyone, especially a man. Whereas a woman can give birth, the experience of giving life escapes a man. When his wife is giving birth, he might appreciate what is happening, but he cannot quite understand the miracle that his wife is experiencing.
To give of your body so that someone might live approximates the Atonement. Donating a body part is as though the testimony of the Atonement is being carved into your being. Suddenly, the Atonement is no longer theoretical. In a very real way, the Atonement is part of you. You gain an in-depth appreciation of the Savior that you might not achieve otherwise, not even through temple proxy work. You can never look at people the same way. The entire focus of your life changes. Being a donor defines your life. It is never forgotten by the family. It becomes part of the family’s heritage. The blessings seem to redound to other family members and everyone who is touched by the event.
Ryan is our latest hero. Our other children who also tried to be donors are heroes: Gavon, Rebecca, Katie and Justin. The friends who stepped forward are heroes, too. It is no more possible to express our gratitude to them for trying to save our son’s life than to express gratitude to the Savior for saving our eternal lives. All of them understand something about the Savior that they never knew before, and they are forever changed.
The Crucible
In the summer of 2006, Matt was in and out of the hospital repeatedly. He was experiencing kidney failure, but some of his symptoms were atypical. But because he was growing worse, the doctors determined to remove the failing kidney, which they usually don’t do. Perhaps the Interferon to clear the hepatitis from the liver was the culprit. Even after the kidney was removed, Matt’s symptoms persisted which was a mystery to the doctors.
Matt began dialysis. We hoped it would be a temporary fix until he could receive a transplant in a couple of months. Little did we know that he would spend the next 2 ½ years confined to a dialysis chair–four hours a day, three times a week. During those years he would forget what it felt like to feel well. Whereas a kidney will completely clean the entire blood supply every 1-2 minutes, dialysis cleans the blood supply with 30% efficiency every two days. The buildup of toxins leaves a dialysis patient constantly exhausted and often feeling sick.
If hepatitis, kidney failure and dialysis weren’t big enough bombshells, the next piece of news was. When the doctors removed the kidney from Matt’s body, they discovered that it was cancerous after all-renal cell carcinoma, a very deadly cancer. More tests would be required to see if the cancer had spread. If it had, it would most certainly kill him. The initial results were promising, but to make sure, Matt would have to remain on dialysis for at least two years, long enough to rule out any possibility that the cancer would return. If the doctors decided to immediately give Matt another kidney, his immune system would have to be suppressed so that he would not reject the kidney. If there was even a trace of cancer in his system, his suppressed immune system would not be able to fight back, and the cancer would quickly overwhelm him.
But there was more bad news to come. Matt’s health continued to spiral downward, and trips to the emergency room became a normal occurrence. Buffie and I shuddered every time the phone rang in the middle of the night. To allow Kristin to stay at home with their three little girls, I became the driver. Typically, we would end up at University Hospital, some 40 miles north of us, where Matt’s specialists were located.
By August, we were becoming more and more concerned for Matt’s life. Due to respiratory failure, which he would experience again, he was in Intensive Care on a ventilator in an induced coma. One day, after prayer and contemplation, Buffie came to me and said, “I think Matt has West Nile Virus.” She was so certain that she insisted that he press the doctors to begin testing. The doctors reacted with skepticism, but agreed to test. What could it hurt to check it out? They learned a lesson that I learned early in my marriage-Believe a mother’s feelings. Sure enough, Buffie had been right; the tests came back positive. The doctors discovered that Matt had been suffering with West Nile Virus for at least three months. That had been the cause of his illness, not kidney failure.
Suddenly, we realized that a strange miracle had occurred. If Matt hadn’t contracted West Nile Virus, which had caused the symptoms that prompted the doctors to remove Matt’s kidney in the first place, the cancerous kidney would still be in him. It is rare for doctors to remove a failing kidney. They would rather keep it in and avoid another surgery, especially in a hemophilia patient. If the kidney had remained, the cancer would have spread, hastened by the transplant, and before anyone could have diagnosed the cancer it would have been too late. Therefore, in a remarkable set of circumstances, God had preserved Matt’s life with the West Nile Virus!
I would like to report that Matt and Kristin sailed through these adversities without a hiccup in their faith. But that would not be true. Even Job and Joseph Smith suffered lapses when the crush of adversity became overwhelming. Matt reminds me that most of the book on 1 Nephi is about the journey and not about arriving. But each time they have been beaten down, they have somehow found a way to get back up, find their way back to God and try again. Despite what they are feeling inside, they exhibit faith in public, and that is why they continue to inspire people who are also carrying tremendous loads. It is okay to hurt; it is okay to lapse; it is just not okay to abandon God or accuse him.
Other Miracles
Matt is no stranger to miracles. When he was twelve, I was impressed that he needed a special priesthood blessing. We had been hearing about a strange new virus called HIV that might be infecting the blood pool from which the clotting factor for hemophiliacs was manufactured. In Matt’s blessing, he was promised protection and a long life. He needed that protection. Late one night, Buffie and I received an urgent call from the pharmaceutical company that the batch of medicine we had on hand was contaminated with HIV. We had given Matt an infusion from that batch only hours earlier.
A few years later, we came to more fully appreciate the power of that priesthood blessing. During the 1980s, some 95% of hemophiliac boys were infected with HIV and many died of AIDS. Buffie’s cousin was one of the casualties. Almost an entire generation of hemophiliac males was wiped out within a matter of years by their simply taking medicine. But Matt was spared. His case was so remarkable that the doctors asked for a blood sample for research. There was no question that Matt had been exposed to HIV multiple times, but he never tested positive for the antibody. The doctors couldn’t figure out why, but we knew. You can’t see a priesthood blessing under a microscope.
Matt was the recipient of another set of miracles in 1990, when he needed his first kidney transplant. During that time, Buffie and I were testing to see who could donate, when I was abruptly cancelled out. This troubled me because six months before Matt’s kidneys failed I had received a strange impression that I would someday donate a kidney. The reason for my being canceled out was because I had nearly died of nephritis when I was eleven. Nephritis is a complication of strep throat that attacks kidneys. The doctors told me that my kidneys were likely damaged and I couldn’t donate. I took my concern to the Lord, and felt an impression to go to my bishop, ask for a blessing, and my kidneys would be fine.
After the blessing, I begged the doctors to reconsider. When they finally consented, they discovered that my kidneys were perfect. I became the first nephritis patient to ever donate a kidney, and Matt was only the second hemophiliac to receive a kidney transplant. We were so rare that our case was written up in a medical journal.
Matt’s miracles would continue. Early in their marriage, Matt and Kristin discovered that they could not conceive children. On the fertility scale, Matt was almost non-existent. To complicate things, Kristin was suffering with endometriosis that eventually cost her one ovary and almost the second. To save the remaining damaged ovary, the surgeon scraped and wrapped it in gauze and hoped for the best. After the surgery, Kristin was given Lupron, a drug to arrest the endometriosis by sending her into temporary menopause.
The combination of the operation and the sudden cessation of hormones caused her to become sick and put on weight, cruelly mimicking pregnancy. Worse, she developed a large stomach obtrusion that the doctors feared was a tumor. Almost seven months into the treatment, the doctors ordered an ultrasound that the lump was not a tumor, but a baby! A previous priesthood blessing had guaranteed Matt and Kristin would have children. Once again, we experienced the unequalled power of the priesthood. But the miracles didn’t stop there. Now they have one adopted daughter and two natural daughters-from parents who were physically incapable of having children.
The Price of Blessings
Of course, all blessings come with a price. Matt was now dealing with hepatitis C, renal cell carcinoma, dialysis, and West Nile Virus, and of course his ongoing hemophilia. I remember the words of an early priesthood blessing, one of many that would follow. The language compared Matt’s ordeal to stepping into a fiery furnace, as did the three Hebrew youths. He was promised, as were they, that one day he would emerge from the furnace without even the smell of smoke on his clothes. Until then, the Lord would stand with him in the furnace and protect him. From that point forward, he has lived from prayer to prayer, fast to fast, and blessing to blessing. Nothing except the intervention of God could have seen him through.
Now the fun began. The West Nile Virus sapped Matt’s energy. He began to go downhill fast. During those months, he hadn’t the strength to climb a set of stairs to his bedroom. He would spend hours, sitting in his front room, staring out the window at people living their lives normally, and wondering what it would feel like to walk to the mailbox and retrieve the mail. Twice, Matt became so weak that he felt his spirit try to separate from his body. He would struggle to hang on, knowing that if he relaxed he would be gone. He experienced fainting spells. He labored to get enough oxygen in his lungs. Twice, he went into respiratory failure, and he was placed on a ventilator in an induced coma.
I lost count of how many times I rushed him to the emergency room. Once, I rushed to his home, only to find him losing consciousness. He looked at me hopelessly, and said, “I can’t hold on anymore.” We called the paramedics, who transported him to the hospital. On another occasion, he experienced several grand mal seizures and was spitting up blood. We called the paramedics again. My older son, Gavon, and I arrived at the hospital moments later only to see Matt thrashing about with another seizure. The seizures had been caused by West Nile Virus and out-of-control blood pressure that skyrocketed to stroke levels then plummeted to the point that he would lose consciousness. The doctors feared that his heart had been damaged by the onslaught.
One morning, after he had been released from the hospital, Buffie and I drove to Matt and Kristin’s house to watch the children while Kristin took Matt to the doctors in Salt Lake. When he opened the door, nothing could have prepared us for the shock of seeing him. Overnight, his hair had turned silvery gray and his skin had turned a dark bronze. He ended up being admitted. The doctors couldn’t explain by his hair had suddenly turned gray, but they guessed that it might have happened because of the intense trauma brought on by the seizures. The jaundiced skin was another guess-maybe the hepatitis in his liver or perhaps a temporarily blocked gall bladder or liver duct.
Finding a Donor
Over time, many of the severe symptoms of his conditions declined, and life settled into a routine. Dialysis on Monday, Wednesday and Friday; part-time work at LDS Family Services on Tuesday and Thursday. (Matt is a therapist there.) The weekends were reserved for Kristin and the girls. The fact that we had come this far was truly a miracle. The priesthood blessings were being fulfilled. The cancer had not spread and the hepatitis was gone. The West Nile Virus had become less troublesome. He was experiencing bouts of paralysis because his dialysis catheter was failing, causing his Ph and electrolyte levels to rollercoaster. But another surgery to replace the catheter resolved that problem. Overall, Matt was recovering-enough so, that the doctors cleared him to receive a transplant. He had remained cancer-free for two years, and that was the echelon to proceed with the transplant.
Why we thought finding a matching kidney would be a slam-dunk, I do not know. Nothing had ever come easily for Matt and Kristin. Divine intervention had always been required. Finding a kidney donor would be no different.
In the summer of 2008, we started with Gavon, our oldest. He was cancelled out abruptly by a condition that we never had supposed. That was when we first heard that Matt had antibodies to many common antigens in the blood. Basically, he was allergic to the makeup of most kidneys. Over the months, seven people tried and failed to become a donor. No matter what, we could not find a match.
Our son, Gavon, tried three separate times, and failed. Our daughter, Rebecca, tried and failed. Our son-in-law, Justin, tried and failed. Several friends, tried and failed. Then our daughter, Katie wanted to try, but she had just had a baby. The doctors insisted that she wait for three months. When she finally began to test, she emerged as a perfect match-like an identical twin. We were elated! Finally, we had a solution.
Katie sailed through the tests, and the doctors were ready to set a transplant date. By October, she only had one more test to go, and that was supposed to be a cinch. This test was just to help the doctors plan the surgery. Early that morning of the test, Matt was awakened by the transplant office and offered another kidney. A 15-year-old girl had passed away and her kidney was a good match. Matt thought about it for a few minutes then turned it down. After all, his sister was a perfect match, and she was taking the last test that morning. Buffie and I had gone to the temple that day. When we returned, we received a call from our sobbing daughter. She had failed the last test because the arteries emerging from both of her kidneys were only half an inch long–not nearly long enough to splice into Matt.
So just like that, Matt lost two kidneys in one day.
Why I Believe in God
That was a bad day. We were out of options. Matt responded with typical faith. He didn’t want just any kidney, he would say, he wanted the kidney. God had promised, and he would deliver. Matt saw his responsibility as enduring cheerfully in faith. We knew that he and Kristin were hurting. We saw the tears; we heard the anger. But we also watched them regroup and return to God, who had always sustained them. Both the intensity of their trials and their ultimate response to them left us shaking our heads.
After that, Matt began to write down his experiences in a journal with the hope of helping other people. For several months, while he sat in a dialysis chair, he would remember his trials and the Lord’s mercies. Then on Christmas day, he presented the journal to us. He called it “Why I Believe in God.”
I wonder if I would have that level of courage? I wonder if I could cry my allegiance to God over and over despite the setbacks and the disappointments?
Today, the transplant was canceled just hours before the surgery, and Matt and Kristin are being tried again. Today marks the third time they had come within an inch of liberty only to be thrust back into captivity. In a bizarre twist of fate, Matt’s chemistries changed within the last few weeks, leaving him incompatible with Ryan. No one knows why. It just happened. Maybe because the doctors gave him an immunization shot a month ago. Ryan and Lindsay can’t stop crying; neither can Kristin, Buffie and the rest of the family. Matt is too numb to cry. He just stands in his living room and stares at all the gifts from congratulating friends. Literally hundreds of people are invested in the outcome. We’ve spent hours calling people to undo the preparations: Relief Society dinners, babysitting schedules, transportation. It feels like waiting nine months for a baby, then coming home empty-handed because the child was stillborn. Now, with all hope dashed, Matt and Kristin have to find a way once again to dig down deep into that place of crucible where prophets were purified and polished and emerged as gold. And remarkably they did.
No Risk in Trusting God
Without hesitation, they still can bear testimony that there is no risk in trusting God. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is more than a culture to them. It is power that they have drawn upon repeatedly for every eventuality in their lives. It binds together their marriage and their family with a seal that cannot be broken. It has healed and upheld them. It has drawn down heaven to earth and saved them. I have heard Matt bear his testimony in the words of Alma: “I have been supported under trials and troubles of every kind, yea, and in all manner of afflictions; yea, God has delivered me from prison, and from bonds, and from death; yea, and I do put my trust in him, and he will still deliver me” (Alma 36:27).
Today, we hurt. We are disappointed and exhausted. We do not understand how we can continually come within a breath of relief only to have it snatched from our hands. We cannot see a solution. And yet there is hope; there is always hope. If there is a God, there is hope. We recognize that our circumstance is the perfect formula for a miracle. Therefore, we will regroup around our faith as we always have, and return to the Source from which our blessings have always come. Despite the present difficulty, we are determined to stand firm in our faith and, like Matt and Kristin, cry out our allegiance to God, who has always saved us. We fully expect that there is a glorious ending to Matt’s journal, and it will sum up perfectly his thesis, “Why I Believe in God.”
A friend recounted an experience in which he was buffeted by an evil influence for nearly a year. Despite numerous prayers, frequent fasts and priesthood blessings, he could not shake the relentless and violent onslaught. One morning, having been driven to his knees with the feeling of hopelessness, he pled for help, and this time a name entered his mind. Immediately, he arose and made a phone call to a man whom he knew to be a worthy priesthood bearer. He explained the war he had waged for the last twelve months and asked his friend for a blessing.
Suddenly, the evil influence departed. The powerful blessing had provided my friend the long-sought-after relief that he had desired. By the power of the priesthood, the evil influence had been cast away and my friend has not been vexed by that evil influence since.
But the cause of his affliction startled him. During the blessing, the priesthood holder revealed that some 35 years earlier my friend had inadvertently opened a door for Satan to get a foothold, establish a residence, and eventually buffet him mercilessly. Now, over three decades later, he was suffering the effects. What had happened? My friend knew immediately. On a youthful lark, he had once allowed a palm reader to foretell his future. As fate would have it, she had made a remarkably accurate prediction. That single innocent flirtation with evil had created a small breach in my friend’s soul, which breach had allowed Satan an opportunity to plant a seed that would grow until it became incredibly destructive. Now only divine power could excise the infection.
When Questions Become Doubts
Satan utilizes disobedience and false teachings or ideas to cause a breach in our souls through which light hemorrhages. Then he enters through the gash and drains us of truth: “And that wicked one cometh and taketh away light and truth, through disobedience, from the children of men, and because of the tradition of their fathers.” One of Satan’s tricks is to transform our questions into doubts. Whereas questions are healthy and the vehicle by which we progress, doubts retard progress and bring us to a standstill-even to regression. If we are not careful, Satan will turn our questions into doubts; then our testimony begins to topple.
How does he manage this slight-of-hand? One strategy is to convince us to zero in on a single issue and give it increasing weight. Because the human mind can only think one thought at a time, he convinces us that a certain issue is the one that should occupy our attention. If we buy into his temptation, that issue will eventually cause us to discount everything else. We will begin to view that issue as though we were looking through a magnifying glass. Over time, it will appear larger and larger, and soon it will overshadow all else that we once believed to be true. At such times, we must regroup and remember what we know to be true and to review what evidence we have. Then things will come back into perspective, and we can give proper weight to the troubling issue. With persistence, the issue will return to what it should be–a question rather than a doubt.
Seeing Only Red
Satan will use a troubling issue as a trigger, and every time we bump up against it, he will shout in our ears falsehoods and lies. We can expect this to be automatic.
Another Satanic strategy is to get us to see everything through a filter. For example, if we have a problem with the color red, we tend to pick out every red thing in our environment to the exclusion of all other colors. Never mind that trees have lovely green leaves, blue birds wing above us and white-capped mountains glisten with crystalline snow–red is all that we see. Are we not amazed that within a couple of years, Satan talked the majority of the Nephites out of having experienced the night that appeared as day when the Savior was born? The event that had once caused them to collapse to the ground in astonishment was now dismissed as a phenomenon of nature:
“And it came to pass that from this time forth there began to be lyings sent forth among the people, by Satan, to harden their hearts, to the intent that they might not believe in those signs and wonders which they had seen….and the people began to forget those signs and wonders which they had heard, and began to be less and less astonished at a sign or a wonder from heaven, insomuch that they began to be hard in their hearts, and blind in their minds, and began to disbelieve all which they had heard and seen–Imagining up some vain thing in their hearts, that it was wrought by men and by the power of the devil, to lead away and deceive the hearts of the people; and thus did Satan get possession of the hearts of the people again, insomuch that he did blind their eyes and lead them away to believe that the doctrine of Christ was a foolish and a vain thing.”
As disconcerting as some issues may seem, they are really not as large as Satan would portray them to be. Nevertheless, we often allow these issues to carry much more weight than they deserve. Beyond all other considerations, we must never discount our testimonies and the evidence we have of God’s miracles in our lives. We must never allow our questions to set at risk what we value most: our eternal relationships and the promises of salvation and exaltation that gospel covenants provide.
The Leaven of Satan
We recall that Jesus cautioned his apostles to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and of Herod (Mark 8:10-21). Leaven, of course, is another word for yeast, the ingredient that makes bread rise. Jesus was cautioning his disciples against allowing the words of the Pharisees to be planted in their souls. What starts as a little thing soon expands to overwhelm its host. Such is the leaven of Satan.
How many people do we know who have bumped up against a difficult doctrine, a disturbing piece of historical data, or who have just plain been offended by a Church leader or another member then succumb to Satan’s advances and allow him to introduce his leaven? Over time, that leaven expands until questions become insurmountable doubts and offenses become felonies, and those people who are troubled by these things now interpret everything about the Church through the dark filter of Satan’s lie.
Like cancer, the leaven of Satan will take root in our souls and grow into a briary tangle that is calculated to destroy us. According to Nephi, to avoid implantation we must give no heed to any temptation, no matter how insignificant it might seem. We must neither dabble nor consider nor partake. In Nephi’s words, “we heeded them not.” The only solution to rid Satan’s leaven from our souls is an infusion of light and truth coupled with divine intervention, typically through the priesthood. Of ourselves, we are simply not strong enough to take on the power of Satan and come off conquerors.
The Leaven of Christ
On the other hand, Alma speaks of leaven in another way. The word of God, he says, is like a seed. Like the evil leaven of the Pharisees, the good seed is also planted by an external force-the Holy Ghost. Over time, if the seed and its growing motions are not resisted or cast out by our unbelief, the seed will grow into “the tree of life…springing up unto eternal life.” If we will nourish that good seed, Alma says, it will begin to swell then sprout and eventually grow into a bearing delicious fruit.
Once the seed or leaven of Christ takes hold in the fertile ground of our receptive soul, the Father will direct the growth, oversee our education, and teach us the sublime intricacies of the gospel and its covenants. Moreover, he will give us power to abide the precepts of the gospel covenants. Over time, the good seed will become a part of us until we are totally leavened by it. Soon, we discover that the fruit of the gospel that comes from the seed tastes delicious; it is desirable to make one happy; it is most sweet above all other fruit; it is white to exceed all whiteness; and it is the most joyous to the soul. We will have no desire to depart from it. As we become Zionlike by the leavening power of the word of God, we will feel no urge to be drawn back to the great and spacious building-Babylon. The word simply tastes better, looks better and feels better than anything Babylon has to offer.
Questions vs. Doubts
Speaking of questions vs. doubts, Isaiah asked the “question of questions,” which each of us must answer or ever remain vulnerable to Satan’s leaven. Prophesying of the Savior and his mission, Isaiah suddenly launched the question: “Who shall declare his generation?” That is to say, who is capable of discovering the origin of Jesus? Is He really the Son of God, generated by the Father, Himself, or is He just a great teacher and religious leader? The answer to this question gives us the key to answer every gospel question and reveal the truth of all things. Elder Bruce R. McConkie wrote:
It is a true principle that “no man can say [or, rather, know] that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.” (1 Cor. 12:3.) The testimony of Jesus, which is also the spirit of prophecy, is to know by personal revelation that Jesus Christ is the Son of the living God. In the full and complete sense of the word no one ever knows that Jesus is Lord of all except by personal revelation; and all persons to whom that testimony or revelation comes are then able to declare His generation, to assert from a standpoint of personal knowledge that they know that Mary is his mother and God is his Father. And so, in the final analysis it is the faithful saints, those who have testimonies of the truth and divinity of this great latter-day work, who declare our Lord’s generation to the world. Their testimony is that Mary’s son is God’s Son; that he was conceived and begotten in the normal way; that he took upon himself mortality by the natural birth processes; that he inherited the power of mortality from his mother and the power of immortality from his Father-in consequence of all of which he was able to work out the infinite and eternal atonement. This is their testimony as to his generation and mission.
Our questions concerning the reality of Christ and His generation, the mission of the Prophet Joseph Smith, the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, the actuality of the restoration of the true Church of Jesus Christ or any other essential doctrine can only be known by the revelation from the Holy Ghost-his planting true leaven-the good seed, the word of God-in our souls and our allowing that leaven to expand within us.
Our Choice
In one way or another, the leaven of Satan or God will be implanted within us. Try as we might, it is unavoidable. So we have a choice to make: Which leaven will we allow to be placed in our souls? Both leavens have the power to expand and fill us. Both have the capacity to transform us into their likeness. If we entertain the dangerous leaven, it will soon swell and appear logical and essential; we will most certainly dismiss the truth as a myth. But if we will allow the leaven of God to swell within us, it will grow into the image of the Bread of Life.
D&C 93:39
Bruce R. McConkie, The Promised Messiah: The First Coming of Christ, p.472
Do we allow unanswered questions fell our tree of testimony or grow it? Just how much are we willing to risk or obsess on a question when weighty matters are at stake? Deciding what matters is one of the first steps to leaving Babylon and becoming a Zion person.
About twenty years ago, I had a gospel question that vexed me. Despite my best efforts, I could not make sense of it. After pondering, praying and fasting, I still suffered with the question. The experience taught me that in the delay there are blessings, if we will allow them. The first blessing that I experienced was the question’s forcing me to a point where I had to decide once and for all if the question really mattered. Was the root system of my testimony so flimsy that this issue could topple my tree of belief? After a little deliberation, I decided that my roots of testimony ran deeper than that, and I concluded that I would not let the issue matter. It could wait. What I didn’t understand at the time was that by setting aside my demand for an answer I opened the door for the answer to come.
The purpose of delay
The Lord never asks us to travel a road without some prior preparation. Faith builds upon faith as the Holy Ghosts spoon-feeds us one precept at a time. Questions are often planted by the Spirit as invitations to learn the next concept. A quick survey of the scriptures reveals the Lord’s use of questions to prod righteous people to stretch and to learn. But we can stop the process and fell our tree of testimony by becoming frustrated with the process or getting stuck on a challenging question. When the answer is not immediately forthcoming that does not mean that a satisfactory answer does not exist. Perhaps the Lord’s delay serves as a test of faith or a motivator to search the scriptures and prophets for answers to this and other questions. Often, in the process of seeking an answer we stumble upon a potpourri of truth.
The priesthood matters
Every person’s journey to answers is unique. Here are a few of the markers along the course that I traveled to gain my answer. When I was eleven, I was stricken with Nephritis, a complication of Strep Throat. My kidneys began to shut down and I was at risk of developing heart damage. A health blessing healed me. Twenty-eight years later, when my son suffered kidney failure, I was able to donate a kidney to him. It had never happened that a person who had contracted Nephritis had donated a kidney. Our situation was so rare that it was written up in medical journals. But the part the author of the article left out was the part about the priesthood blessing that I had received from my bishop so that I could donate. He promised that my kidneys would be healed from the effects of Nephritis and I could give my son a kidney. Even the doctors could not attribute the rarity of this situation to anything than that of divine intervention.
I have an abiding testimony of the restored priesthood. My wife and I have ten children-three boys have hemophilia, a severe bleeding disorder. Additionally, we have dealt with kidney failure, Crohn’s Disease, potentially paralyzing broken neck and back, Hepatitis, and West Nile Virus. We have seen several miracle babies come to our children who were clinically incapable of having children. One doctor compared the miracle to parting the Red Sea. We have seen homes and jobs appear when all seemed lost. The priesthood matters.
Years ago, one Halloween night I received a call from a friend. Our boys had been playing on his roof, and my son, Gavon, had stepped off and landed on his head. When I arrived, Gavon was unconscious and bleeding from both ears. The medics rushed him to the hospital. When I stepped into his room, I was not prepared for what I was about to see. Gavon’s face was badly swollen; blood continued to seep from his ears-a sign of concussion; his right collarbone had a large bump as though something was trying to protrude through the skin. I was told that his clavicle was broken badly. The doctors also suspected a broken neck or back.
My friend and I gave Gavon a priesthood blessing then the boy was wheeled away to Radiology. Perhaps an hour later, a doctor approached me with a handful of x-rays. His speech was very clinical. He pointed out bones, growth plates and the obvious concussion.
“Has the bleeding from the ears stopped?” I interrupted him. “Is there any brain damage?”
“The bleeding has stopped and there is no damage,” the doctor said.
“What about breaks? His back? His neck?”
“No breaks.”
“Not even his collar bone?” I asked astonishedly.
“Nothing. He will probably have a headache for a few days.”
Gavon woke up 24 hours later with the predicted headache, not remembering anything expect standing on the edge of the dark roof. His bruising was gone within a few days and he was back playing carefully with his friends.
Over the course of nearly 37 years of marriage, our family has existed from one priesthood blessing to the next. The priesthood matters.
Redemption matters
I doubt that there was ever a more unprepared missionary than I. Having come from a family that was disintegrating, I found myself confused about the Church, especially its doctrines concerning priesthood and eternal marriage. Somewhere in my adolescence I decided that a mission was not for me. I wasn’t trying to be rebellious; I had actually convinced myself that the Lord didn’t want me to go. We can convince ourselves of almost anything of we try hard enough. We can even convince ourselves that important things don’t matter.
Nevertheless, as my 19th birthday approached, the idea of a mission seemed to press relentlessly upon my mind. Finally, I decided to pray and get Heavenly Father’s word once and for all that He didn’t me to serve a mission. As ridiculous as it sounds now, I was actually asking to be officially excused. So I prayed. When the answer didn’t come I prayed some more. And this went on for a month.
One day when I was walking around campus, minding my own business, a sudden flood of light entered my body. I was so astonished that I looked down at my feet, which seemed to be standing above the ground. I felt within me an actual call from God to serve a mission. What was even more remarkable was all the confusion, doubt and fear left me in an instant, and they were replaced by excitement and enthusiasm. Now I wanted to go! I met with the bishop that weekend, and within four weeks I received a call to Argentina. I have always been amazed that the Lord rescued and redeemed such a confused young man as was I and set me on a course that has blessed my life ever since. Redemption matters.
The Book of Mormon Matters
Having officially been called on a mission, I now felt the weight of unpreparedness settled upon me. I had infrequently attended seminary, and I had never read the Book of Mormon. I was horrified that I knew nothing, and within weeks I was supposed to be teaching the Argentine people the gospel of Jesus Christ. Motivated by panic, I began to read the Book of Mormon.
Having always been fascinated by writing, I read the Book of Mormon with a continuous string of questions flowing through my mind. For example, I asked myself if anyone, even the greatest literary genius of all time, could have written such a book-within 60 days! One would have to have had a fabulous knowledge of the Jews and the Law of Moses. One would have to have an encyclopedic knowledge of the Bible in order to mesh its teachings with this new volume. One would have to have the skill of assuming the voices and styles of multiple people, and one would have to accurately explain three separate civilizations that existed from the Tower of Babel to 400 A.D. One would have to forward geographic locations and archaeological data that would only be proven correct a hundred or more years later. Then the book would have to hold up to criticism at every level for nearly two hundred years. Finally, the book would be bold enough to carry a one-of-a-kind guarantee that the truth of it could be known by honest seekers by a direct answer from God…and millions would then attest that the guarantee was valid. Who would dare says such things? Who but a prophet could write it? People could criticize it, but who has ever duplicated it?
When I completed the Book of Mormon, I had an intellectual testimony, but I wanted the answer from God. That would be the clincher. If the book was true, he would live up to the promise made at the end. And so I prepared myself and prayed. I prayed for three hours one night! I was determined to not arise until I had my answer. Then it came. In an experience too sacred to relate in detail, a palpable light burst through the ceiling of my room and entered my body. It started at my head and flowed down through me with the feeling of coming in from the cold and drinking a warm fluid. The light burned out every doubt and filled me with a feeling of happiness and peace that I had never experienced. It enveloped me for a very long time, and gradually withdrew when I said I had had enough. Now I knew, and I needed no more proof. Thirty-nine years later, I can still remember the feeling and its impact on me. I absolutely know that the Book of Mormon is true, as is Joseph Smith, the Prophet who translated it. My testimony of the Book of Mormon matters.
Eternal Marriage Matters
I think Heavenly Father is the ultimate romantic. I believe that He loves a love story and He delights in finding individual ways to introduce His sons and daughters. My wife and I had a unique love story. Elder Maxwell was fond of saying there are no coincidences. I met Buffie when I was seventeen and she was fifteen. By chance, my little singing group had been asked to perform between acts for the MIA June Conference in Salt Lake City. That was a big deal for Boise kids. We had never even seen a mall, let alone a big city.
After one performance, a happy, rotund man approached us and said that he wanted to introduce us to “Mr. Music” in Salt Lake. We were all starry-eyed. We imagined fame and fortune were just around the corner. We got into our car and followed this man to a little apartment up above the Capitol building. When we knocked on the door, a little red-headed girl with big dimples opened. That was our introduction, but neither of us thought anything about it until four years later when I had returned from my mission.
Fast-forward to February 3, 1972. One night, I was eating a hamburger in the cafeteria at BYU. Suddenly, I heard a voice call, “Larry Barkdull! Is that you?” I looked over and saw Buffie with a date. I ran over and hugged her. (I didn’t care about that other guy.) We were just two old friends reuniting after years apart. That night I called her and we talked for three hours. The next day we had a date, and the next day, too. On Sunday, we drove to Salt Lake to visit her mother. On the way home, we were talking lightly, minding our own business (I seem to always be minding my own business when inspiration comes.) We had just pulled up to her apartment when a sudden powerful feeling washed over Buffie and she couldn’t catch her breath.
“Oh my!” she exclaimed. “I’m seeing you as though….” She couldn’t describe her feeling. She just stared at me as if in shock. “What does it mean?”
Then the feeling enveloped me. I was suddenly grateful that I wasn’t driving. “It means we are supposed to get married,” I said.
Buffie nodded, took a deep breath, and said, “I know…and I don’t love you yet!”
Well, she got over it and managed to tell me that she loved me a week before we got married. The next day I gave her a ring, and two months later we were sealed for eternity in the Salt Lake Temple.
As unique and challenging as was our courtship, we always look back on Heavenly Father’s “introduction” and remember that our eternal marriage started with a remarkable answer. Together, we have brought into this existence ten marvelous children, and our family has now expanded to thirty-two. Today, when I look into my wife’s eyes and contemplate the goodness of God in giving her to me, I testify that eternal marriage and family matter.
My Answer
I end as I began. Two decades ago I had a question. I struggled for an answer that for some reason was postponed. I did my due-diligence for a period of time, but finally had to decide whether I was going to let it bother me or build me. I handed it off to God and decided that it didn’t matter. I would focus instead on what I knew to be true: priesthood, redemption, testimony and eternal marriage and family. I would not risk absolutes for questions.
Then one day, twenty years later, as I was minding my own business, the answer came. It was a soft communication, wholly unremarkable. But there it was just the same. Suddenly, everything clicked. I paused for a moment, smiled, and said, “Oh, I never would have thought.” It was nice to finally have my answer, but it really didn’t matter much-not in comparison to what really matters.
“Is any sick among you? Let him call for the elders of the church….” Our commission in the Melchizedek Priesthood is the same that Jesus gave to His Apostles when He sent them forth to serve: “Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils: freely ye have received, freely give.”
Administering to the sick is a powerful ordinance, charged with symbolism and meaning that strike at the heart of our priesthood commission. But there are many questions pertaining to this sacred ordinance. For example, what does the oil represent? Why are two or more elders typically required? How do we become the hands, arms, and voice of Jesus Christ? How should we prepare to bless? This article is an excerpt from a newly published book by Covenant Communications: Priesthood Power: Blessing the Sick and the Afflicted.
Becoming the hands, arms and voice of Jesus Christ
Concerning Elders as representatives of Jesus Christ, Elder Bruce R. McConkie wrote, “As the Lord’s agents, they pray and minister in the place and stead of their Master.” When we receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, we receive it with an oath and a covenant, parts of which are to fully receive Jesus Christ [His atonement and His name] and to magnify our calling. Our calling includes our commission to bless the lives of others, which involves administering to the sick and afflicted. Hence the charge: “Lay your hands upon the sick and they shall recover….”
When we lay our hands upon the heads of the sick or afflicted, we become, in essence, the hands of Jesus Christ. For example, Edward Partridge was told by the Lord, “And I will lay my hand upon you by the hand of my servant Sidney Rigdon….” In a similar manner, priesthood holders are the arms of Jesus Christ: “And their arm shall be my arm….”
At another time, the Lord emphasized His willingness to support His servants when they, through the priesthood, minister in His name and thus become His voice: “What I the Lord have spoken, I have spoken, and I excuse not myself; and though the heavens and the earth pass away, my word shall not pass away, but shall all be fulfilled, whether by mine own voice or by the voice of my servants, it is the same.”
Speaking to the subject of our representing the Lord, President Joseph Fielding Smith said, “We are ambassadors of the Lord Jesus Christ. Our commission is to represent him. We are directed to preach his gospel, to perform the ordinances of salvation, to bless mankind, to heal the sick and perhaps perform miracles, to do what he would do if he were personally present-and all this because we hold the holy priesthood.“ And, as President Howard W. Hunter reminded us, “whatever Jesus lays his hands upon lives.”
A life rescued and reconsecrated to the Lord
Because an associated blessing of the administration ordinance is spiritual healing, the recipient’s asking might include rededicating himself to God. This is not to suggest that the recipient should bargain for deliverance, which would be improper-If you heal me then I will do such and such. Rather rededicating one’s life to God is realigning and recommitting one’s self to one’s covenants.
Elder John A. Widtsoe said, “Everyone who receives an ordinance must make a covenant, else the ordinance is not fully satisfactory…he who is administered to for sickness, and the administrators, covenant to use their faith to secure the desired healings.” Elder Widstoe preceded this statement by saying,
“Ordinances give life to faith because they require a covenant from those who participate. Faith is a principle that demands action. Whether it is faith in a law, doctrine, or plan relative to human affairs, it fails unless it leads to a practice, rite, or ceremony. Otherwise it remains an idle belief, an abstract conviction, a theory. The moment it is used, as in an ordinance, it flames into life, and leaps into the world of practical affairs, becoming a positive power, helpful in the world of men.”
Healing is symbolic of Christ’s power to deliver
Being rescued from sickness and affliction by the power of the priesthood might be viewed as symbolic of Christ’s power to deliver us from all our enemies, including spiritual and physical death. Quoting President Harold B. Lee, gospel writers Joseph Fielding McConkie and Robert L. Millet wrote,
“It may be that all of the miraculous healings performed by Jesus were but tangible symbols of the greatest healing that he alone could perform–the healing of sick spirits and the cleansing of sin- stained souls. ‘The greatest miracles I see today,’ declared President Harold B. Lee, aware not necessarily the healing of sick bodies, but the greatest miracles I see are the healing of sick souls, those who are sick in soul and spirit and are downhearted and distraught, on the verge of nervous breakdowns.’ (CR, April 1973, p. 178).”
A sickness or affliction reminds a person of his fallen state and drives him to recognize his helplessness without the Lord’s intervention. That is, because of the Fall the person is in this weakened situation; but he knows that Christ has overcome the Fall. With that hope, the afflicted person humbly beseeches the Lord for help then calls for the Lord’s authorized priesthood representatives, whom the afflicted person recognizes as those having the power of Jesus Christ, to answer the person’s request. The elders come in response.
In a sincere prayer of faith (by the afflicted person, a friend, loved one, or the elders), the person humbly declares his testimony of the Lord, his belief that the Lord can heal him through His servants from these specific effects of the Fall, and asks the Lord for healing. The elders then perform the ordinance of administration by the laying on of hands and by means of the power of the name of Jesus Christ. Because the administration is sealed, it is recognized in heaven and on earth, and the Lord promises to confirm or validate it.
Through the administration ordinance, powers on earth and in heaven are set in motion, and the Lord now begins the process of healing the person both spiritually and physically. When the healing process is completed, the Fall has symbolically been overcome, and the once-afflicted person is in a position to bear heightened testimony of the reality of the Savior, His power to deliver, and the certainty of the restoration of the gospel and priesthood. In the process, the person has rededicated or reconsecrated his life to the Lord, who has rescued him spiritually and physically. Consecrate means “dedicated to a sacred purpose,” or in other words to be set apart as holy, to be completely be devoted to the Lord, or in this case, to be snatched from the grasp of the Fall. The person is thereby reconsecrated to a sacred purpose, set apart as holy, and completely devoted to the Lord, who has saved him.
Afflictions consecrated to God “for the welfare of thy soul”
Elder Gerald N. Lund taught that the consecrated oil suggests consecrating or reconsecrating a life: “Consecrated olive oil is always used to consecrate or reconsecrate a life-to sanctify.” In the context of consecration as it applies to administering to the sick, Elder Bruce R. McConkie wrote, “How aptly Nephi said: … ‘Ye must not perform any thing unto the Lord save in the first place ye shall pray unto the Father in the name of Christ, that he will consecrate thy performance unto thee, that thy performance may be for the welfare of thy soul.’ (2 Nephi 32:9.)”
When a covenant person petitions the Lord for a blessing, that person’s affliction is in effect consecrated to him “for the welfare of [his] soul.” That is, “all things [even sickness and afflictions] shall work together for [his] good.” Thus, we can even place our sicknesses and afflictions upon the altar of faith and the Lord will count them as consecrated offerings that will sanctify us and bring us closer to God.
The Administration Ordinance
Perhaps no action speaks to the restoration of the priesthood and the Savior’s power to redeem us than does the administration ordinance. At once, we see the principle of asking in faith to receive a blessing. We recognize that Jesus Christ is both the name of the Son of God and a name used to unleash priesthood power. We experience the honor of being the Lord’s proxy, doing and saying what He would do and say if He were present. We have the privilege of anointing and sealing, whereas otherwise we would have to be set apart to perform anointing and sealings in the temple. We experience the power of the Atonement to rescue and consecrate or reconsecrate a life to the Lord. As much as the power to heal was a sign of the Savior’s divinity, it is a sign of the divine nature of His true Church.
James 5:14
Bruce R. McConkie, A New Witness for the Articles of Faith, p. 379
Joseph Fielding Smith, “Our responsibility as Priesthood Holders,”Ensign, June 1971
Howard W. Hunter, “Reading the Scriptures,” Ensign, November 1979
John A. Widtsoe, Evidences and Reconciliations, p.197, emphasis and comments added
Joseph Fielding McConkie and Robert L. Millet, Doctrinal Commentary on the Book of Mormon, vol 4, p.41
See Bruce R. McConkie, “Administrations,” Mormon Doctrine, p. 21-22
“Consecrate,” Merriam-Webster Dictionary
Gerald N. Lund, “Old Testament Types and Symbols,” Sperry Symposium, 184-86, emphasis added
Bruce R. McConkie, A New Witness for the Articles of Faith, p.380
The Power of God
Falling off the Roof on Halloween Night
Some years ago, my son, Gavon and his friends, then teenagers, had tired of trick or treating. One of the boys was the son of my friend, Mike. His roof could be easily climbed and often was. It required little effort for a nimble 16-year-old boy to mount the fence, swing up a leg up and roll onto the roof.
Looking for more excitement that boring Halloween night, the boys had climbed to the peak of Mike’s roof and pondered the possibilities. Someone suggested that they rig a microphone to scare passing trick or treaters. There were no dissenters. The prank played out like this: target a victim below, scream into the microphone, and run to another side of the roof to hide. Their fun time went on for a long time.
The boys had just frightened another unsuspecting child and had raced to the far, dark side of the roof, when suddenly Gavon disappeared. His friends heard a hard thump twelve feet below. When I received a phone call from Mike’s dad, Ted, he only could say, “Gavon’s been hurt. It’s pretty bad.”
I arrived just as an ambulance was pulling up. My son was lying on his back, unconscious and groaning. When the paramedics shined a flashlight on him, I saw blood seeping from his ears. “He fell directly onto his head and right shoulder,” one of them said. I tried to reach out for him but was prevented. “He may have injured his neck or back,” they said.
Ted, anticipating my needing a friend, said, “I’ll go with you to the Emergency Room.”
At the hospital, doctors cut away Gavon’s shirt and began to work on him. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight. He was still bleeding from his ears. His face was swelling. His right collarbone had a large bump that appeared to be trying to protrude through the skin. I was told that it was broken badly.
“Does the bleeding from the ears mean head injury?” I asked.
“It’s the sign of concussion. It doesn’t look good.”
“What about his neck and back?”
“We’ve ordered a CAT scan.”
When the doctors left the room, I said to Ted, “I’m so afraid for my son. Will you help me give him a priesthood blessing?”
Ted is a man of great faith. Over the years he and I had been each other’s Home Teachers. We had given many blessings together. In other trying situations, I had seen him take his problems to the Lord with the perfect assurance that he would be heard and answered. On occasion, I had knelt with him and heard him pour out his heart in behalf of someone in need. This was to be another of those times. We stood on either side of my son’s bed and pled for a miracle of healing. Then we laid our hands on my son’s head and pronounced the blessing. When we finished, the doctors took Gavon to Radiology.
During that long night while we watched Gavon’s unconscious body being scanned, we talked of God, faith and past miracles. I didn’t know what would happen to my boy. Periodically I called home to discuss the situation with my wife, who was tending our little children. We tried to prepare ourselves for whatever news might come. Finally, a doctor came from a room and approached Ted and me with a handful of x-rays. His speech was clinical. He pointed out bones, growth plates and the obvious concussion.
Has the bleeding from the ears stopped?” I asked. “Is there any brain damage?”
“The bleeding has stopped and there is no apparent brain damage.”
“What about breaks? His back, his neck?”
“No breaks.”
“Not even his collar bone?” I asked in astonishment.
“Nothing. He will probably have a headache for a few days.”
Gavon woke up 24 hours later with the predicted headache, not remembering anything expect standing on the edge of the dark roof. The bruising and swelling was gone within the week. Within a few days, he was back playing carefully with his friends.
The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him (Nahum 1:7)
The Knowledge of God
No Food in the House
In a particularly difficult financial time, I sought God for help. I suppose that I am like other people whose prayers are offered with more feeling in times of urgent need. I remember feeling ashamed that I had not previously put more effort into my relationship with God when money had been plentiful. Still, believing that such petitioning could help, I arose one morning and began to plead for help.
The answer came in a strange way. A thought entered my mind: “Your friend Paul (name changed) has no food in his house. Go and take him some money.”
“But I have so little,” I said aloud. Then, considering to whom I was talking, I asked, “How much?”
“One hundred dollars.”
I felt anxiety shoot through me. One hundred dollars was all I had in the bank! I searched myself hoping that I had made the whole thing up. I tried to pray again but felt only silence. Then, through the quiet I perceived a message. It seemed to say, Will you trust me or not?
Paul was a good man who had recently lost his income source and was struggling through very difficult financial times. No effort of his had seemed to be able to stop the rapid decline of his assets and reserves.
I dressed, drove to the bank, withdrew one hundred dollars and headed to Paul’s house. When I stuffed the money into his hand, he couldn’t hold back the tears. He said, “My wife and I totally ran out of food last night. We have been up since four o’clock this morning praying for a miracle.”
I never missed the one hundred dollars. One thing after another fell into place to sustain my family. But no miracle was as great as the one that occurred inside me when I discovered that God truly loves his children and often uses other people to prove it.
… let us fall now into the hand of the Lord; for his mercies are great…(2 Sam. 24:14).
The Love of God
Welcome Home
Two months after my daughter, Katie, and her husband, Jason, were married, Jason was diagnosed with Crohns Disease. In an emergency operation, eighteen inches of his intestine were removed. From that point forward, Crohns became a third member of their marriage and the hospital became their second home.
Home. That word became foreign to them. During their first years of marriage, strangling medical debt dictated their residences and moves. Now they had a baby girl. More poor health and meager finances forced them to move once again, this time in with family. The three of them crowded into two tiny bedrooms that Jason’s parents graciously provided in their house.
Later, when they thought that the Crohns was in remission, they decided that education was their only hope for normalcy. So they moved-again. This time to be students. Their excitement to finally be on their own was short-lived, however. Too soon, they discovered that the college program that they wanted required unethical practices of its students in exchange for grades. Jason and Katie had a choice to make: live their values or to leave school. They packed up and left.
When they returned to Jason’s parents’ home and the two cramped bedrooms, they felt defeated. Then Jason’s Crohns took a frightening and deep dive. Suddenly they had to face the difficult realization that his current health status would not allow him to maintain a full-time job. Katie would need to become the primary breadwinner and their prospects for affording a place of their own now seemed worse than ever. And, of course, the medical debts kept mounting.
They wanted to be self-sufficient; they wanted to be an independent family. They did not want to be reliant upon other people. So they prayed. They knew that no one could get them through this challenge except Heavenly Father.
Slowly, things began to change. Within a short period of time they received a government grant and an unexpectedly large tax return. Suddenly they could pay off their medical debts! Then Katie received a job offer; then a few months later a better one; and then a few months later a better one. But their living situation had not improved-two cramped bedrooms in their parent’s house.
One night Katie prayed again. She didn’t want to be ungrateful. She knew that one thing after another had been working out. She knew where their blessings were coming from. She hoped she wouldn’t be asking amiss.
For some time she had longed for and pictured in her mind a sweet little apartment that her family could live in-a modest place with some elbowroom, a yard with green grass, a safe neighborhood, a nice ward and a friend for her little girl…and it had to fit in their slender budget. By scrimping they might be able to come up with $650 a month for her dream place.
Unlikely. Impossible. These words had kept her from offering the prayer before. But this night she yearned for change, and she knew that she could not achieve it on my own. She humbly took her request to Heavenly Father. She imagined that it was too much to ask. But she asked anyway.
The next day, Lindsay, her sister called. Lindsay’s brother- and sister-in-law were just finishing building a new home, she said. It had a large, basement apartment. It had a huge green yard. It was in a nice part of town, and the ward was wonderful. A little girl, the same age as our daughter, lived next door. They were willing to rent the apartment for only $650 a month!
Suddenly what Katie had thought could never change changed. What she had imagined impossible was possible. When she first walked into her “dream apartment,” she said, she felt as though Someone had already been there. It was as though Someone had placed a little note on the door saying, Welcome home.
…the Lord God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering and abundant in goodness and truth (Ex. 34:6).
May ever be aware of our powerful, loving Father, who is ever aware of our needs and who showers us with his gifts.