Notes for Sacrament Meeting Talk, January 17, 2016

Notes for Sacrament Meeting Talk, January 17, 2016, Kimball Ward, Park City Stake (the assigned topic was God the Father)

My wife, Evie, and I are still fairly new to this ward and so many, if not most, of you I don’t know yet, but we enjoy the ward and are looking forward to getting to know you all better.

While we’re new to the ward we really aren’t new to this area. Ten years or so ago we were happily and contentedly living in northern California and then I decided to accept a job transfer to the Dallas, Texas area. Let’s just say the news of the move to Dallas received mixed levels of enthusiasm in the family. So in connection with that move we bought a small townhome here in Park City and have owned it ever since. Although we never spent as much time at it as we had planned, we were usually able to visit here a few days each year, usually in the summer.

Our house sits at the bottom of the north side of Ecker Hill and one of the first things I discovered is that I can walk right out the back door of our house and catch trails up to the top of Ecker Hill. That is a hike I’ve made over the years at least 100 times. I’ve road a bike up, skied up, but I mostly walk up.

No matter how many times I’ve gone up to the top and even though it is not particularly high (at least by Park City standards) I always feel a bit of wonder with the view. It is a beautiful view.  We often feel a sense of wonder or “awe” when seeing familiar things, but from a different, larger or more elevated perspective.  Sometimes I also feel that sense of wonder or awe when I try to view the restored gospel from a higher, an eternal perspective; the plan of salvation from the perspective of God the Father.

From the top of Ecker Hill I can look down and see my house at the bottom of the hill. As I mentioned it is a small house, and from the top of Ecker Hill it looks even smaller. But here’s the thing, even though the house appears smaller from the top of the hill, it is still no less important to me – it is where Evie and I live, it is where my stuff is. Although smaller, it remains the center of my world. But from the top of Ecker Hill I am able to see my house as part of a much grander and beautiful world than what I can see when I’m actually in it.

Now consider, when God the Father, the creator of worlds without number, looks down from His perspective on you and your life what does he see? Well, of course, from that perspective each of us is a mere speck in the vast creations of the Father. But we are nevertheless very important specks. Remember the world was created for our benefit; we are the purpose of those creations, to provide each of us the opportunity to gain exaltation with the Father as part of the great plan of salvation. 

While his creations may be without number, each of us are numbered to the Father and known and loved by Him.  While vast, we are the center of the Father’s creations.

When I hike up Ecker Hill I usually have a companion – our dog, a lab named Roderick.  He’s 15 years old now and unable to make the hike, but in earlier years it was an exciting adventure for him – to get out of the house and out into the hills.  However, I noticed that unlike me Roderick was never all that interested in the view as his nose was usually down in the dirt. For him, the hike up Ecker Hill was not about the scenic view, but the smells – deer, rabbits, squirrels, mice, perhaps a moose and of course other dogs – I think half the dogs in Pinebrook go on walks up that trail.

Watching Roderick I realized that there is an interesting, colorful and vibrant world that my dog lives in but that I am absolutely blind to because I have a lousy sense of smell.  Roderick is excitedly wagging his tail and sniffing away at what appears to me to be a barren pile of rocks, but just because I can’t see or smell anything doesn’t mean something isn’t there or isn’t real. It is obvious from Roderick that it is, in fact, very real.

How do we see, or by what senses do we come to know, our Heavenly Father? Is it possible that there is a very real, vibrant and exciting spiritual realm or dimension that we may be blind to – that because of the distractions of worldly things, our unbelief or sin our ability to perceive spiritual matters may be dulled? But that does not mean they don’t exist or are not real. While as Paul says we may only see “through a glass darkly,” there are also those moments when we do get a glimpse of things of the spirit and we learn that we can come to know spiritual matters and the Father, just as have our prophets have promised and born witness to us.

When looking at the world from the top of Ecker Hill, I’m looking at a landscape, geographic space from a higher perspective.  But what if we looked at our lives from the perspective of time – our lives as timeline. Up close we see the immediate – today, sitting here in Sacrament Meeting.  But as we move back we see our lives from an increasingly longer and broader perspective.  I can attest that one’s perspective on life at 60 is very different than at 16. And with the benefit of our prophets and revelations, we can even get a broader perspective of our lives that includes our existence before our mortal birth and after our mortal death.

Perspective matters. For example, assume you’re the parent of a 5 or 6-year-old little child (boy or girl) and you know that the ability to ride a bike will be a great blessing to the child.  The child will experience the fun and excitement of riding a bike, greater freedom to go about (and perhaps reduce your need to drive the kid around) and riding a bike can be a source of fun and pleasure (and healthy exercise) throughout the child’s live.

So you teach the kid to ride a bike and the he has a great time until invariably he crashes, falling hard and scratching his knees and elbows. And at this point he comes crying and screaming for help and comfort. From this child’s perspective, this is an unmitigated tragedy. He hurts with a pain that he has no reason to believe will ever cease. He is bleeding (although just barely) but which from his perspective may never stop and in the end lead to his tragic and painful death, and he is forever emotionally traumatized by the shock of at one moment enjoying the exhilaration of cruising along on a bike and then suddenly crashing in great pain.

You, as a parent, see all this from a different and broader perspective. You, of course, understand the pain, the scrapes and the scare from the fall, but you know the pain will shortly end, the bleeding will stop and with a comforting hug and reassurance the child will soon get over the scare. However, from your broader perspective and experience you also may see some things to be concerned about that the child doesn’t. Knowing the child, you may see that he was being a little reckless and perhaps needs to learn not to try to do certain things on the bike or at least not before he is more skillful and experienced. Otherwise the child could be seriously injured, perhaps losing the ability to ride a bike. Or you may see that because of the crash the child may have lost his confidence and is fearful about riding the bike. He may need quickly to get back on and ride the bike to restore his confidence so that through his fear and his own lack of confidence the child doesn’t deny himself the blessing that comes from biking.

Think a moment; when Heavenly Father looks at your life, what does he see? From His perspective what would worry Him, and what would not? A gospel perspective, the ability to see our life as Heavenly Father does, can be one of our greatest blessings in times of trouble and tragedy.

I’ve been talking about trying to see our own lives from our Heavenly Father’s perspective. But now I want you to try a little thought experiment. Think of someone you really don’t like, perhaps even hate. Now sincerely try to look at that detestable person from Heavenly Father’s perspective. A warning – you may feel some discomfort or dissonance. If you do this sincerely, you will find that you really can’t harbor feelings of hate or ill will at the same time you sincerely try to look at them from Heavenly Father’s perspective. All those things you find annoying or disagreeable will fade in significance and become less defining of the person.  Their sins and shortcomings are still there, but they will cease to engender hate on your part, but you will begin to see them as the Book of Mormon prophets saw the Nephites – well aware of their sins and hardened hearts, but lovingly praying for their repentance. You will start to almost like them, or even “root” from them in their adversities – you will begin to become just a little more “Christ like.”

With that thought in mind consider a statement made by Elder Renlund, our newest apostle at the last October conference. Elder Renlund, who is a cardiologist, first told of a patient, a young boy, who had come into the emergency room and who they were unable to save. The child died. As a physician he felt sadness for the boy, but the sadness was somewhat detached and he was comforted by the fact that he knew the boy had received the best medical care available. Then the parents came and as he saw their grief over the loss of their son he began to see the loss of this child through their eyes, at which point he was overcome with sadness and began weeping (and in a reversal of roles the parents had to comfort him). Elder Renlund then said this:

I now realize that in the Church, to effectively serve others we must see them through a parent’s eyes, through Heavenly Father’s eyes. Only then can we begin to comprehend the true worth of a soul. Only then can we sense the love that Heavenly Father has for all of His children. Only then can we sense the Savior’s caring concern for them. We cannot completely fulfill our covenant obligation to mourn with those who mourn and comfort those who stand in need of comfort unless we see them through God’s eyes

In closing I want to mention an experience I had yesterday. Evie and I are ordinance workers in the Salt Lake Temple and yesterday was a busy day at the temple, a lot going on and I had some assignments that were new to me and therefore challenging and especially interesting. However, while I was walking through the men’s dressing room one of the workers who was busy helping a groom get ready for his wedding asked me, pointing to a brother who had just entered the room from an endowment session, if I would help him. The brother looked perfectly fine to me and it wasn’t clear to me what, if any, help he needed, but I went up to him and asked if there was anything he needed. As I would learn from our conversation, back in August he had been involved in a diving accident, suffering a spinal injury, and as a result was unable to use his hands. He, including his hands, looked fine, but in fact he had no feeling in his hands or use of them. Now, think a minute about all the things you do where you need to use your hands and you’ll appreciate this brother’s predicament.

So essentially I had to help this brother change from his temple clothing into his street clothes and pack up his temple clothes for him. The brother was grateful for the assistance. But understandably I think he was a little uncomfortable that he required this help and could not do it himself. I of course reassured him that we were pleased and anxious to help him. All the while I was thinking of the challenges this brother will face and how important it may be for him to attend the temple regularly and how much I hoped he would not worry about his hands in that regard and that his disability would not discourage him from coming to the temple. There are plenty of people in the temple who are able and willing to do for him with their hands all the things that he can’t do with his own.

I don’t want this incident to seem more significant than it was. Many people come to the temple with various disabilities and needs, that is not at all unusual, and the workers are generally experienced in helping them.

As I mentioned, last Saturday was a very busy day and for me a challenging one because of some assignments that were new to me. Nevertheless, as I was reflecting on my time in the temple yesterday, it was those few minutes with this brother and his disability that left the deepest impression.

In a very small way, perhaps as a microcosm or a pattern, this incident reflects the most basic principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We all have disabilities of one form or another and through Christ like love we each help each other.  However, our most basic and serious disabilities are actually our own mortality and sin; none of us can overcome those on our own.  But that is not a reason to worry. For the gospel – the good news - is that our Father has provided his Son to do for us that which we cannot do for ourselves.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believeth in him shall not perish but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)