Monday I was reading Ether 12 again. I feel as though I’ve read it hundreds of times, but this time I stole to eternity on it.
Remember Ether 12:26—maybe the second most popular scripture in the Book of Mormon? The one that people cling to in hopes of becoming better men and women? Well, the context is HUGE. Or perhaps I made it huge. I couldn’t really help it, it just steamed off the page in hot importance and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Why did I never realize this before?
Moroni’s talking about his weakness in writing. That’s the weakness he’s asking God about. And that’s when God tells him that, with faith and humility, He will make weak things become strong unto him. He will even make him a better writer.
And he speaks of the brother of Jared’s writing—it shakes souls, that’s how powerful it is. I would probably have a mad crush on him if I could read that. But the writings were sealed up until we had faith like unto the B of J—faith to see God. Perhaps that’s the only way we’ll believe it. Accept it for what it is, rather than ranting and raving and tearing our hair out like wild things, because the truth hurts.
We’ll eat you up we love you so.
Then I thought, maybe, with that kind of faith, I could be that kind of writer. And I thought of all the great writings of truth and the faith that those greats must have had. I’ve taken it for granted, I suppose. Thinking they just dipped their quills in ink and the genius flowed out of them in a long series of scribble scrabbles that I will never be able to achieve. The tikka tikkas of their keyboards must ring louder than mine do. But “faith is the moving power of all action in us”*. It even makes us write. Faith in what? In God? In myself?
In all truth, I suppose—in the way things really are. Who wants to read someone who’s fooled himself about the life and lives around him? No delusional sentences, we want palatable evidence of those mouth-watering things that keep us going. Real reasons to hope, great lasting loves, honest humor. Actual pains, not gilded ones.
Perhaps, for this reason, I have difficulty stomaching the over-dramatized. The truth is forceful enough, there’s no need to get in its way.
The difficulty is noticing the truth through the smog. But once we’ve found it, truth practically begs us to take hold.
And then the genius happens.
Note: this is why I have the hots for Paul. I’m pretty sure he and I were spirit lovers before we came to earth.
Another note: I shouldn't have written 'great lasting loves'. Because not all loves are great or lasting. Not all truth is strength, it's also weakness.
*Lectures on Faith 1:10
Spirit lovers? I think you must made the rounds then, Ashley Dean... what with all your mad crushes and all. ;)
ReplyDeleteJust a question, though. You talk about "truth" and the "real" and whatnot, but (in regards to writing) how are you to know what the true or real dating experience is? Or war? Or eating a potato chip? What if I experience Doritos in a way that is fundamentally different than yours? I am less real? People do call me fake on occasion.
I love this idea. I talk about how hard it is for me to write sometimes because I just want it to be perfect.
ReplyDeleteWe do that so often with every endeavor--back out because we're afraid our efforts won't be perfect. So we don't do anything.
But whoa! God says He'll make weak things strong--whatever the weak thing is, however long we've been carrying it around. But we have to do something, even if it's weak and imperfect.
Hm. Somehow that was something I thought I totally already knew backwards and forwards, but this helped me gain more clarity. Cool.
Another truth worth writing about: people are different. I suppose an experience written down is real when a writer is honest with himself.
ReplyDeleteAshley! Moroni might not have been a good writer, but you sure are ;) I'm so glad I ran across your blog girl! Ours is kandsosborne.blogspot.com.
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