Showing posts with label truth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label truth. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Some thoughts.

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

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

On Second Thoughts

If Procrastination were something visible, tangible—some actual creature that keeps us from our better selves—I believe it would be a terrible shape shifter. Maybe something like one of those Grow A Boyfriend’s: just add time and one day it will be large enough to control you. It would begin as something harmless; a bunny, whisper soft and vulnerable and endearing and completely harmless. What does it matter how I put it off as long as it gets done, right? Perhaps it’s even important, right? I need this time for me, to rejuvenate.

Then. THEN. It grows ever so slightly, while your back is turned. You spin around and it saddens those big brown eyes at you and everything seems fine—it’s a rabbit, for crying out loud. And this game of signs continues while an unseen suspense grows, until one day you realize that it’s not a rabbit, it’s not just Procrastination, it’s big and frightening and ugly—and it’s all wrapped up in your fears. Fear has been keeping you from the work, the effort, the genuine caring that all successes in life spring from.

If I don’t really take the time to write, I’ll never fail at writing.

If I don’t send this letter, he won’t have the notion to hate me for suggesting that he’s wrong.

If I don’t dial unprecedentedly, I won’t be too-friendly-and-in-an-awkward-situation again.

So we distract ourselves with whatever triviality we choose for blanketing our fear while it grows. Hey, if I don’t see it growing at me, it’s merely remaining, isn’t it? Remaining to be dealt with when I’m better suited to face it. Facebook helps me stand up to it.


I am over these silly fears. Who ever came up with the idea of thinking twice about things? Often, I’ve found that thinking about something more than once only gives fear time to giftwrap a good idea with gaudy worries. And who wants that sort of packaging?

Give me back my unadulterated impulses.


Friday, February 12, 2010

Hey, I'm a Sister...

And this is how it went:


scream

w     a     i     t

cry

 read

 
breathe



Yes, ladies and gentlemen.  I will be inviting people to come unto Christ.  In the Czech Republic.  Speaking Czech.

I report June 23rd, 2010. 

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