Mercy

For those of you who do not know, Shannon and I have been through a very difficult week. Interestingly enough, only last week I was asked to help another family through a similarly difficult trial. I spent a lot of time reflecting on how I could help them. I hope that I was able to provide them with some comfort. What I didn't know at the time was that I was in fact also preparing myself to face an unknown trial.

I meant these words when I wrote them for another family, and I told them so. It made them all the more powerful when I found myself reading them for myself. It is one thing to know the answers, it is quite another to find yourself asking the questions. Please tread lightly, this is tender ground. 

            An ancient prophet named Jacob wrote, “Time passed away with us, and also our lives passed away like as it were unto us a dream, we being a lonesome and a solemn people, wanderers cast out from Jerusalem, born in tribulation, in a wilderness, and hated of our brethren, which caused wars and contentions; wherefore, we did mourn out our days.” (Jacob 7:26 – Book of Mormon pg. 135)

           

He was good man, who was doing his best to be a good teacher, leader, and disciple. However, his life was still full of difficult days. He often felt alone. Perhaps one of his most painful burdens was the betrayal of two of his own brothers who had turned completely away from God, and from the teachings of their father.  Because of their bad choices, generations of their descendants would come to hate and make war against Jacob’s people.  

            Jacob was a compassionate, but straightforward teacher. For example, he once had to give a very difficult sermon. Many of his own people were starting down a road of darkness and sin. After talking about some of the things that they needed to change, he said “ O my brethren, hearken unto my words; arouse the faculties of your souls; shake yourselves that ye may awake from the slumber of death; and loose yourselves from the pains of hell…” (Jacob 3:11 – Book of Mormon pg. 123) 

            So often as we go through life when our souls are wounded we close our hearts, and our spiritual eyes. These wounds can come from things that we do, such as making choices that we know we shouldn’t, and they can also come from things completely outside of our control. This “slumber of death” seems at first to be a way that we can find relief from the pain of the here and now, but sooner or later we find that our burdens are just as heavy, and sometimes heavier, but they are now buried, and we have worn ourselves out by trying to run away from them.

            The Gospel of Jesus Christ gives us a better way.  Even though we do not always understand why things happen, we can come to understand his plan for us. We are all of us children of a loving Father in Heaven. We are all brothers and sisters who are more precious to him than anything else. In order to give us a place where we could live and grow to become more like him, he created this beautiful world. In order to teach us about his plan he has reached out to humanity throughout time and given us prophets, promises, and scriptures. Finally, in order to give us a way to overcome our individual and collective failings, God so loved the world that He sent His only Begotten Son, that man might not perish, but have everlasting life.

            At the core of this plan that I have mentioned, is an essential truth that comes as a great comfort to us on days such as this one. Life does not begin with birth, nor does it end with death. Our time here on Earth is a temporary state. Before we were born we lived with God, and we all chose to come here to follow his plan, knowing full and well that it would mean that we would have dark days and face unfair circumstances. Part of the reason that we were willing to leave our home in heaven to come here to Earth is that we trusted in the plan of happiness that we had been taught by our Father, and we knew that we could count on our Savior to help each of us overcome our weaknesses and failings. He promised us that if we would have faith and trust in him that he would give everything, even his own life, to make sure that we had a way back home.

            When difficulty comes our way as followers of the Gospel of Christ we may trust in the promises that God has made to all of us. One of the most beautiful of these promises is that because Jesus died for us and then was resurrected, one day we all will overcome death. He promises to judge each of us with perfect justice and infinite mercy. Meaning that we will only have to answer for things that we could control. He has provided each of us a way to find forgiveness for our shortcomings and mistakes. 

            There are some things that the scriptures are very clear on. One of those things is that in the eyes of God, there is nothing in this world that is quite so pure and innocent as a little child.  Jesus taught his disciples that they had to learn how to trust and be just as teachable as a small child in order to truly follow him.  (See Luke 18:17 KJV Bible pg. 1310) He has promised us that little children who die before they have a chance to make their own choices are all “alive in Christ” and are “partakers of salvation” (See Moroni Ch. 8 – Book of Mormon pg. 525)

            Jacob understood these doctrines. He understood the plan that God has for all of us. It is why he was able to have faith even when dealing with difficulty. It is how he found the strength to help others even when he must have felt alone. Despite the fact that each of our lives are filled with unique personal challenges the council that he gave his people can still help us.  As we listen with courage, we can awake from the “slumber of death” and find comfort in the mercy of Jesus Christ.”

            “Come with full purpose of heart, and cleave unto God as he cleaveth unto you. And while his arm of mercy is extended unto in the light of the day, harden not your hearts. “ (Jacob 6:5 - Book of Mormon pg. 132)

            God does not expect us to pretend to be happy when we aren’t. He doesn’t expect for us to forget the difficult things that we have had to face. He does ask for us to trust him, even when it is hard to understand our lives. Our friend Jacob learned many of these things from his own father, Lehi. In the last recorded words we have from Lehi to Jacob, we learn that we always have a choice. We cannot choose our circumstances, and sometimes we cannot even choose how we feel. But we can always choose to trust in God. We can always choose to have faith. When we do it gives us power. It brings light into our souls, and makes us just a little bit stronger. (See 2 Nephi Ch. 2 – Book of Mormon pg. 57) 

            When we need it most, the love and light of God can sustain us. It is my humble prayer that our Loving Father in Heaven will continue to watch over and bless you no matter where you are in life. I implore you to keep your hearts open. I know it is not easy, but as you exercise faith you will find in small and simple ways that God is there and that he cares. I am a witness of his love, and I am blessed through His grace. I know that he can and will comfort you, very often through the people around you. To those with eyes to see and ears to hear, who do not harden their hearts, the hand of God can be seen even in times of severe trial.  I bear this witness in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen. 

Poem for a stormy sunset

Clear, quiet, swelling songs are born in the dying day

Echoes from faded flowers, dreams from far away

I am the silent thunder, the shadow of the midnight.

I am the soundless chorus of silver crowned starlight

Within me lies the ages, before me is the morn

I am unknown and unknowing, without force or form

Whispered splinters of sorrow drive through the countless years

And all are bound by the aching bands of newly cast tears

In the twilight, on the mountain, a clear call comes at last

And the courage of the fallen binds every heart beating, fast.

Then comes a great harmony, from all to join the one alone
And in the moment of its making, grace gilds the clouds of stone.

Serenity and Survival

For those who haven't been exposed to students going through medical school, let me preface this post by explaining that it is one of the most academically rigorous experiences imaginable. The sheer volume of medical knowledge that must be understood to be an effective physician is gargantuan, and growing. Medical Schools have two short years of classroom time to prepare prospective physicians before they enter clinical settings. The volume and pace of the coursework can make the first two years of medical school seem like drinking from a firehose. 

For quite some time now I have really found a lot of truth in advice I received as a young man, "The first two weeks of anything are the most difficult. If you can make it through the first two weeks and build strong habits, things almost always get easier to manage." Right now, I am banking on this old saying. It has always been true for me in the past, and I trust that as I continue to hone my study habits that it will prove true in this new phase of my life. In many ways, this is a game of survival, where objective driven hazard avoidance helps to prioritize my time and motivate my efforts. 

The thing about survival situations, (be they physical, emotional, spiritual, or intellectual) is that they are often have an illustrative and transformative effect on our character. When all that matters is getting through the day's struggle the fluff falls away. While the experience decidedly difficult, it can usually have a liberating element. I have already had some rather interesting moments of self-actualization and reflection. I would like to share a few of them:

1. "Where are you from?" - I sometimes have a southern accent. It is almost never an intentional affectation. I have to come to think of it as an automatic emotional response. When I feel at ease with people, or want to help them feel at ease with me, I usually find myself trying to make myself more approachable with the use of colloquial language and southern language idioms. It is also sometimes a defense mechanism, when I am feeling out of my comfort zone and I am falling back on my internal self image to reassert my individuality and knowledge base I usually find that I am reinforcing my identity as a self-sufficient skilled craftsman and workman. Finally, a really big part of myself is invested in the South. I lived with and deeply loved the people of the South for two years. They forever changed the way that I look at the world and look at myself. They rubbed off on the way I think, the way I pray, and the way I talk. I am sometimes still a little embarrassed by the fact that I have an accent, mostly because I don't want to be fake. However, part of me has decided that it isn't fake. I might not have been born there, and I might have changed an awful lot since I was a missionary there, but in many ways I am a son of the South at heart. 

2. "In times of trouble" - It is a talk given by Jeffrey R. Holland at BYU quite some time ago. It is very very meaningful for me. It was given to college kids trying to deal with college problems, so it is especially easy for me to connect with, but I think that there are principles there that would bless anyone. One might think that with less time and more stress moments of spiritual reflection would be more difficult to come by. For me they have come because they have been needed more. In times of trouble, the Lord stands by us. After many hours of study I need more than break to stretch my legs, I need more than a snack, I need the strength that comes through serenity. A few minutes reading a talk, listening to a hymn, or remembering my most treasured friendships are islands of peace in an ocean of unmastered knowledge. 

3. "Why and How" - What most people don't know about medicine is just how new most of it is. The guys who discovered the structure of DNA are still alive and kicking. Mastering a knowledge of medicine might require learning more than it did 60 or 70 years ago, but in a lot of ways there are advantages to learning when you can be guided by principles. There is always going to be an element of memorization, but it seems to me that being a professional in medicine is all about learning how to think. We are not asked to take up someone's explanation for the world without evidence. Even when ideas are still being solidified, the evidence for current thinking is usually presented. I also think that it is super cool that at least one of my classes has been updated since this time last year as medical knowledge has advanced. (Specifically because a recent study has shown that bacteriophagic viruses have been shown to be part of the normal human flora.) Until that study the general thought was that no viruses played a naturally health promoting role in the human system. But because we are all about why and how, new answers are found every day. 

4. Those answers come from a lot of different sources. With the increasingly broad scope of medicine, specialization has become even more important. I am impressed with how closely knit researchers (those with medical degrees and those without) are with the clinical community (at least at the academic level) My medical school isn't overly research oriented, but the evidence of how the system works is clear in the organization of our courses. It is really pretty special. I'm sure that in some places some specialties are ranked in different classes, but at least around here, there seems to be a big picture mentality where different elements of study and practice are seen as part of a greater system. I love my school, and I love the nearly all encompassing nature of medicine. 

So, once again, even though it seems like right now all I am doing is surviving from one day to the next, there is a serene element of essentiality in that focus. At least for me, that increased focus has led to a more refined self awareness and greater appreciation for the centering power of spirituality. 

Blood, Grease, and Gratitude

Over the past few days I have spent a large amount of time working on a small 1993 Toyota Pickup that Shannon and I will be taking with us to Washington on Monday. It has had some engine problems for some time now and so we decided that it would be a good idea to knock out some stuff before we go on a 750 mile trip into the unknown. It started out as just a head gasket replacement, but has evolved into a large scale work over. With 187,000 miles under the old girl's belt, it just makes sense to replace some things while you are in the engine. However, with no shop, not much time, and even less money; it has not been easy. I can't just let this project sit for a little while, because we need to be ready-to-go by the first of next week. At the moment, I have no idea where we are going to be sleeping in a few days, and part of me just wishes that I could keep on driving up to Heber every day to weld together chandeliers for a few more months. By then I would have had time to get everything in order, planned, and paid-for.

That's just not the way that life works, at least not most of the time. It is during times like this that miracles happen; little miracles that almost go unnoticed. For example, I have a group of amazing friends that have come over during the last week to help me with this engine. They have come despite the almost indelible grease, the belligerent bolts, the unorganized tools and parts, and the general lack of an intelligent plan of attack. They have made all the difference in the world, and I am very, very grateful for them. I am grateful that Shannon and I both come from such supportive families, who have both been so helpful to us during the last few months as we have dealt with the transitions of getting married and then moving away for medical school. When I think of how lost I would be without these good people, I can't help but look on my situation as miraculous.

There are plenty of reasons not to believe in people. The world around us is full of ample evidence of human failings. Greed of one sort or another, coarseness, sadness, indifference, and perhaps most woeful of all; willful ignorance. Sometimes it feels like we are nothing more than middling creatures in a extremely complicated food chain, where the rule of the jungle is all that matters. Eat or be eaten.
But a man who has been blessed as much as I have recently has a hard time seeing things that way. Kindness is the great champion of human dignity. It is what saves us from the petty animal thing that can be so hurtful in us all.

I believe with all of my heart that we are all brothers and sisters. Every human being on this planet is worth something, and even the most lost or lonely is loved by God. No matter who they are, or how they are hurting, I want my Father in Heaven to be able to send me to help. In the words of the Hymnast, "Because I have been blessed by Thy great love, Dear Lord. I'll share that love again, according to thy word. I shall give to those in need, I'll show that love by word and deed. Thus shall my thanks be thanks in deed."

I believe that the most profound idea that I have ever come across is that a Divine Omnipotence notices us. That in fact, we are the great treasures of His infinity, His sons and daughters. This perfect Architect of existence has the power to make and move mountains, to create and control forces so astronomical that they are beyond our ability to measure, much less understand. It is easier for God to part a sea than it is for Him to get us to listen to the quiet voice of His Holy Spirit. The ocean does not argue or doubt when it is asked to do something by God. Yet, for him the making of a world, or the rending of a river is only a means to an end; the changing of human hearts. When we choose to obey him we do so having clear alternatives in front of us. We choose to be His child and His deciple not because we have to, but because we want to. Because we have learned the lessons that life has been trying to teach us, and we have chosen to follow him. This choice, that happens quietly in our hearts with no real fanfare, is the ultimate object of all of creation. What a wonderful idea.

To my dear friends and loved ones. Thank you. You are wonderful. You are the reason I am who I am, and the reason that someday I will be better than I am today. I love you very much. God go with and bless you.

Zombies

Zombies (It takes me a bit but I get to them)

Being an ardent acolyte of the poet’s art, and overcome by a prideful joy celebrating the similarity in nomenclature between one of its most gifted masters and my own poor appellation, I have always felt a certain connection to the words of Lord Byron.

Recently, my mind came to consider the singular circumstances that surrounded his authoring of the poem “Darkness”. Its first lines read as follows:

 

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars

Did wander darkling in the eternal space, 


Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth 


Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; 


Morn came and went--and came, and brought no day, 


And men forgot their passions in the dread 


Of this their desolation

-Lord Byron from “Darkness”

Byron was writing during a time of personal turmoil, social unrest, and actual physical darkness. For reasons then unknown to Europe and North America, the summer of 1816 was full of coldness, darkness, and uncertainty. A combination of volcanic events half a world away, sunspots, and other natural shifts in climate dramatically impacted the day-to-day weather in the western world.  Lacking our modern instruments, they were left without reasonable explanations, and the citizens and scientists of the day stooped to nearly unrestrained speculation. 

In his poem, Byron crystalizes these nebulous hysterics by imagining a world forever lost to the great lights of heaven, abandoned to the darkness that brooded over the face of the waters before God spake into the formless void on the First Day.

Men burn everything in the world that can be burned in a desperate battle for survival. When all of the forests and cities of the earth are consumed, even the most precious things are valued only as fuel for a fire of subsistence. Any that have survived waste away without food, or hope, until at last all is gone and the Earth grows utterly quiet. There is no wind, no waves, no clouds, and no movement at all. Darkness does not only blind the world, but in the end it binds it absolutely.

What then does this rather melancholy poem have to do with Zombies? After all Rick Grimes and Will Smith battled the brainless hosts of undead in world still filled with the light of the sun. My point is that our fears can be a very useful way of understanding ourselves. I don’t mean in the shallow sense of finding out our fears for the sole cause of “facing” them in a grand spectacle of will. Instead, I mean that if one fails to sit back and consider the genesis of one’s preoccupations, one fails to fully grasp the world. To us, the somber poem of Byron seems explainable and logical. We can see why the poet and his readers feared so passionately a world overcome by night thanks to the knowledge that comes with our modern perspective. To me, there is little doubt that thoughtful students will draw similarly obvious conclusions concerning the fascinations of our own day in 200 years as we do of Byron. Conclusions that will be benefit from the wide lens of history. And yet, I cannot help but see similarities in our situation and his.

We can learn a great deal about ourselves as a people when we look at what we fear and talk about. Why Zombies of all things? Why are they so popular, especially with young people? Could it be because young people are in a deep struggle for identity? Could it be some gut instinct that rebels against a lifestyle that robs us of the essential experience of survival? Could it be that we fear that our lives are being lost in the abstraction and specialization of modern society? We want to be strong enough to survive independently. We don’t want to depend on a system that can, and perhaps one day will, fail. Perhaps some part of us tires of being parasitic as young people; in the end quite unable to succeed without succor. We spend the strength of our youth in schools, and the whole time we do, most of us depend on our parents, on the government, or on charity to supply us with the means of a reasonable living. While we may work our way through school, our lives do not seem complete. We put off living as we otherwise might wish with the reasonable expectation that our investment in time and effort will be rewarded. But within some dark crevice of our unconsciousness, we fear that it might not. That the postulations of a civil and ordered society are in the end unsure.

There is also a connection with most zombie narratives and biogenetic research gone horribly wrong. As our good friend the chaos mathematician Malcolm from Jurassic Park taught us, genetic power is the most formidable force in nature, and life finds a way. Specifically, it finds a way out of human control. I think that is another of the great attractions of these stories. As a society, we are still absorbing the implications of our now formidable grasp of genetics. Soon, we might not even need “Dino-DNA” to build a Jurassic Park. I may well live to see the day when we can design living creatures to order from scratch. This kind of power is wonderful, and terrible. It is little wonder then that it should be such a strong, recurrent theme in our dystopian visions.  We must also consider that our generation has not yet had to face the terrors of a disease modern science could not contain. For almost all our lives the triple cocktail of antiretrovirals has held in check the only serious specter of unstoppable sickness that our parents faced in HIV/AIDS.  While there is still very real danger from AIDS individually, the chances of an uncontrolled pandemic in the DEVELOPED world are now rather slim. We feel instead have to feel this fear of sickness, this, momento mori, vicariously. 

Finally, (at least for tonight), I think one of the most reasonable explanations for the recurrent success of the zombie phenomenon is a deep-seated need for real community and connection. So much of our daily interactions with our fellow beings can be shallow. It may be that many who watch zombie films and shows feel as though they are the only person REALY alive that they know. Perhaps they have some small group that they can connect with, but the sea of faces around them is filled not with people, but corpses. Our lives are compartmentalized, our experiences unmingled with the common thread of humanity. It may be that young people can feel terribly lost in a world where they are not heard, only hungered after. Where they are the consumable fodder of the gray masses.

I don’t think that most of these somber thoughts are conscious. But I think that they exist on some level. I also think that my small examination has been if anything, overly simple. There is a great deal of nuance here, that speaks to the enduring concerns, AND hopes of the people drawn to these new stories of survival. They are also filled with self discovery and independent endurance. They show us a world where people can adapt to nearly unbelievable trial.  By better understanding why these stories filled with darkness matter to us we come to a better understanding of the darkness within ourselves. With this knowledge, we are better able to allow the light of our Celestial Sovereign to divide the day from the night in an act of personal recreation.          

Sojourn

Among the many metaphors employed to explain our experiences in life, one of the most versatile and lasting is to consider it as an extended journey.  It is an uncertain journey full of many crossing paths and fellow travelers. Over the last few months I have been reminded of just how quickly the scenery can change on our journey, and that while we all are headed towards the same destination we do not always walk the road together.

When I was very young, I misunderstood the word “sojourn.” I thought that it meant fixed, grounded, and permanent. I suppose this is because the only context that I had for the word was in the title of the famous “Sojourner Truth.” I considered any word linked to truth must be similarly grounded and absolute.  I learned after several years that it meant quite the opposite, much to my adolescent embarrassment. I was mortified that I had on several occasions casually used the term incorrectly. I don’t think that many people caught on; if they did, they mercifully humored my juvenile ego. This mistake of mine has upon further reflection many years later proven quite instructive to me. 

At this point in my life my view of the people around me was rather static. I was raised in a deeply conservative environment that acknowledged and respected certain absolute moral truths. This firm foundation formed the core of my personal perspective. At this point in my life the only “true” perspective was the one that I myself possessed. It was my self-informed position that if everyone just saw “truth” the way that I did, the vast majority of the problems in the world would simply solve themselves. I thought that really all the world needed was a proper education. Given this arrogance, I now find it unsurprising that the only possible concept that I could assign an unknown word when placed next to “truth” in a sentence was that of a load-bearing permanence.

As I continue on my life’s journey and look back at what I have learned in the relatively short distance from that time to this one, the most meaningful lesson that I have learned is that so much of what it means to be a good person comes not from trying to get people to understand you. It comes from trying to understand and learn from them. It is not easy to do. On more occasions than I care to admit I have been guilty of opening my ears but closing my heart, usually because I was scared that I was wrong. I think almost all of us have questions that we try not to ask too loudly, because we are afraid.

I have a talent for argumentative belligerence. While at times intellectual cheap shots seem to “beat” people who think differently than we do, we usually only wound ourselves. We start to constantly seek out our own weak-spots, so that we can use them to counterattack. We stretch the truth in order to make our arguments more convincing and “arbitrary” so that an “objective person” would side with us in a battle of belief. Perhaps the greatest tragedy comes when we “win.” I pray that no one else has seen the pain of spirit that can be caused by using intellect as a weapon in the name of “truth.” I did one night as a young man in small house on the outskirts of Russellville, Arkansas. I was young missionary, teaching a woman who was going through a crisis of faith. She was lashing out at us, and the doctrines that we taught. I knew her well, and I knew the bible well, and to my great shame I used that knowledge to “win” an argument I didn’t understand.  At this point in my life, I don’t think that I could have even if I tried.

What I did learn very quickly was that I was wrong. I felt it in deepest part of myself, and I wept bitter tears when I started to comprehend what I was guilty of. I had used the words of the Lord Jesus Christ with malicious intent. I had not been concerned with that woman’s soul, I was worried about my own pride. In following weeks I tried to reach out to her, and to close the wound I had torn open, but the damage had been done. In time I came to feel that there was not more that I could do at that time and that we both had a lot of growing to do before that wound could heal.

I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. I was on a mission for the right reasons, and I believed in what I was teaching, and I truly came to love the people I met during my time in Arkansas. This was a moment of weakness, and a lesson that I needed to learn. Change unfortunately often requires trauma of one sort or another. I just wish that I had been a better man, and that I would have started down this road a different way. As it is, I remain forever indebted to this good woman, who helped me to ask the right questions of myself. She remains nameless here, but is precious in my memory.

Sojourner Truth was a famous abolitionist. As a young man I was fascinated with the characters of Harriet Truman, Frederick Douglass, and Sojourner Truth. I felt particularly drawn to Frederick Douglass, because he was a gifted orator. Most people who know me well know that I have a certain love of meaningful language. These people still astound me. They embody conviction, passion, courage, and the universal triumph of truth. I do still believe in truth. I believe that there are answers to the big questions. I believe that living our lives according the pattern given to us by our Father in Heaven is the way to lasting personal peace. However, what I KNOW is that truth is not easy. I know that truth requires personal effort. At least for me, moments of clarity and truth have come when I have let faith hold me steady long enough to ask the hard questions honestly. It has come when I have opened my heart to others, and let them teach me.

I still have a long road ahead of me on my journey towards truth. Those that know me well know that I still can settle into a bellicose myopia. It is one of many faults of character that I must remain watchful against if I hope to become all that we all should be. I take great comfort that at least I do not have to make this journey alone. It seems that most of the people closest to me have come into my life just when I needed them. Even when life leads us away from each other again I treasure the part of me that they helped to build, and refinement of perspective their friendship provided. To each of you, known and unknown, thank you.

Blessed are the Meek

Today the world was caught off guard with an announcement by Pope Benedict that he would be resigning his office for medical reasons. In the minutes and hours following this portentous message commentators all around the world have taken up the task of contextualizing this decision. Some of them have chosen to portray this act in a negative light. In their eyes, there must have been something some dark reason that this man would choose to live the rest of his life in obscurity.

Over a billion people look to Rome and her Pope for spiritual guidance. Like most major religions the number of active adherents is much lower, but on any scale Catholicism is an enormous community of faith. The broad influence of the papal office is undeniable, and perhaps unrivaled. For any man to willingly relinquish that power is very special. Among faithful and practicing Catholics there are very few if any voices that would have called on him to step down. Of those few, none would have had the capacity to compel him.

As I sat and took just a moment to ponder it all, my mind was drawn to the Sermon on the Mount. Where the Lord taught some of his most important doctrines. Blessed are the Meek, for they shall inherit the Earth. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.

Pope Benedict is known as a staunch defender of the faith. Many of his greatest critics are those who take offense to his unwillingness to apologize Catholic doctrine. He believes that there are universal truths. He has been a voice for doctrinal conservatism within the Catholic community for many years. Although, to be fair, he also spoke out against a very orthodox group when they did not want to take up the lead set by Rome.

To some this makes the man insensitive, backwards, and blind. But it does not mean that to me. Granted, Pope Benedict would seriously disagree with my personal view of the Scriptures, of the nature of God, and the history of Christianity. We would not agree on some of the basic fundamentals of religion. For example, the nature of the next life, the nature of mankind, and the meaning of many of the words of Jesus. It would indeed be very probable that he and I would find ourselves so far apart on some things that we would have a hard time talking about them in a completely open and honest way in order to prevent contention.

Having said all of these things, I feel tonight a great respect for Pope Benedict. Some of my favorite people in great story of human history are those who have been big enough, to step aside. Examples include George Washington from American History and King Benjamin from the Book of Mormon. (Ironic as it may be)

I can't pretend to know the man, or even to be very well acquainted with his teachings. Only the Judge of all men, both quick and dead, can search out his heart and know the true worth thereof. However, I know that this world could use more men with the kind of moral fiber and conviction of character to realize their own limitations and to look at the greater good accomplished by them gracefully stepping aside. I would do very well to learn that myself.

Jesus taught "whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted."

I pray that this promise is kept in the case of this good man, whose example of piety and humility has blessed my life this day. He has lived a life of courage and conviction, and I pray God that in his final years he may have peace and joy in that faith that he has so nobly served.

I feel also to say that I am grateful for the security and stability that I have in my own faith. Those who I look to as my spiritual leaders operate within a divinely inspired system that provides Latter-Day Saints a wonderful sense of continuity. If President Monson were to grow ill, there are two men who are called and authorized to act in his behalf and direct the affairs of the church until such time as he might recover or the Lord should call him home. This system could last for a few days or for many years if needed. When the president of the church does die, there is no debate or question as to who will replace him. It is a solemn occasion, but not at time of conjecture.

I am grateful for the wonderful Christlike example provided by the leaders of my church. I have come to know for myself through prayer and experience that they are called of God to lead His church. They are vested with the powers and authority of the Holy Priesthood, and they know the voice of the Master we all seek to serve.

I am grateful for all of the wonderful men and women all over the world that seek to live lives guided by inspiration and faith. As time goes on, I come to feel more deeply that we are all children of God, and that almost all of us are doing the best we know how. We can all do better, but I think that most people have good hearts.

As the Good Book says, "No man can serve two masters." Though we may not believe the same things or worship Him in the same way, I feel in my heart that men like Pope Benedict are serving God. And that means that we are on the same team. I pray that I might be as faithful a servant in my own sphere as he has been in his.