Since the focus of this blog is learning by the Spirit, Elder Packer's remarks seem particularly pertinent. I will share below a few statements from this talk and then add my own thoughts.
"The Spirit does not get our attention by shouting or shaking us with a heavy hand. Rather it whispers. It caresses so gently that if we are preoccupied we may not feel it at all. Occasionally, it will press just firmly enough for us to pay heed. But most of the time, if we do not heed the gentle feeling, the Spirit will withdraw and wait until we come seeking and listening and say in our manner and expression, like Samuel of ancient times, 'Speak [Lord], for thy servant heareth' (1 Samuel 3:10)."
I am constantly preoccupied with my own thoughts and my daily activities. I go through my day, for the most part, not expecting any promptings from the Holy Ghost. In my vanity, I do my "thing", and I think I am pretty good at it. As a result, I know I miss many opportunities to receive impressions from the Spirit.
Sometimes I become aware at the edge of my consciousness of the gentle caress of a thought, a suggestion to do something or say something or make some adjustment in my activity. But all too often I dismiss the thought in my headlong rush to complete the task in which I am engaged or to stay the course on which I have embarked. I think to myself, Well, that is an interesting thought. If the Spirit is really trying to tell me something, surely he will repeat the message two or three times so he really gets my attention.
But according to Elder Packer, that is not how the Spirit works. If I do not pay heed and respond, the Spirit withdraws and waits.
I get little ideas all the time. Earlier this week, for example, the impression came to my mind while I was in the middle of writing an email at work to send Evelyn a text and ask how her day was going. I thought, Ok, I'll do it, but after I finish this email. Then I got busy and forgot. When I got home, I found out that she had come down with the flu and felt terrible. I remembered distinctly that moment when the Spirit had whispered to me, and I had ignored it. That night I asked the Lord to forgive me for having ignored his prompting and pleaded for another chance on another day to be more responsive. Of course, the next day I got another prompting, and I was busy with self-important things, and I ignored it again.
It is a cycle – a habit – that I need to break. But how?
It starts with my very purpose for living this day. If my goal is to follow the Lord's will as a faithful disciple, then I should be anxiously expecting to receive direction so I know how to act. On the other hand, if my goal is to do my own work according to my own will, my focus will be elsewhere, and the Spirit will have a hard time reaching me. Learning to be a disciple is a lifelong journey, and I spend far more time face-planted on the path than I do walking it.
I am grateful that the Spirit is patient. The Lord has faith in me. He believes I will eventually succeed, no matter how many times I stumble. And so he waits for me along the way. And in those rare moments when I have enough faith and forethought to rise up and say "Speak, for thy servant heareth," he speaks. It is a matter of tuning in and staying tuned in.
"We are expected to use the light and knowledge we already possess to work out our lives. We should not need a revelation to instruct us to be up and about our duty, for we have been told to do that already in the scriptures; nor should we expect revelation to replace the spiritual or temporal intelligence that we have already received—only to extend it. We must go about our life in an ordinary, workaday way, following the routines and rules and regulations that govern life. Rules and regulations and commandments are valuable protection. If we need revealed instruction to alter our course, it will be waiting along the way as we arrive at the point of need. The counsel to be 'anxiously engaged' is wise counsel indeed (see D&C 58:27)."
I am encouraged by this counsel. Going about my everyday life in an everyday way is not really such a bad thing. I should not expect a constant flow of revelation from minute to minute. The Lord should not need to direct my every step. If I am generally in the right way and doing the right things, he will let me work out many things for myself. "For behold, it is not meet that I should command in all things; for he that is compelled in all things, the same is a slothful and not a wise servant" (D&C 58:26).
Nevertheless, it is a balancing act. This balancing act is a skill, and a skill can be learned and improved through practice. Effective practice requires a teacher, effort, feedback, and repeated opportunities to try. Heavenly Father is the teacher. I can go to him in the morning and ask for lessons and opportunities to receive something from the Spirit this day. I make the effort to stay aware, to listen, to try to notice the flashes of ideas that may come at odd moments. I may miss a lot of those moments, but when they come, I can make the effort to react, and then see what happens. At the end of the day I report back to my Teacher, review my practice sessions, and ask him how I did.
It is like learning to play the violin. We try to get a little better every day. We stretch and grow our talent by trying new things, failing, and then trying it again. We do not play a concerto the first time we pick up our instrument. We grow into it with daily directed practice. We do not have to be perfect the first time we play, only the last time.
As I practice this dance between agency (my will) and discipleship (God's will), I remind myself that in the absence of specific divine direction, I cannot be afraid to move forward in a logical and reasonable way using good judgment and common sense. At the same time, however, I need to keep my spiritual eyes and ears open for those faint and gentle signposts that are set to alter my course along the way. To miss a heaven-sent fork in the road not only wastes time and energy, but potentially leaves me on a dangerous path that can be fraught with unhappiness and failure.
Thankfully, the Savior stands at the end of the road. He beckons and encourages and waits patiently for me to make my way to him. He has provided a direct route to his embrace – not a stone-free, level path, to be sure. The way is strait (strict) and narrow, with many twists and turns and hills and valleys along the way. If I listen carefully, I can hear his voice gently, quietly calling me to him. When I get distracted by an attractive byway, or when I stubbornly decide that I know the way without help, that voice grows faint. Eventually the path becomes obscure and I run into a box canyon from which I have to retreat with a degree of effort, which is called repentance. When I find my way back to the true path, the reassuring sound of his voice is still there, and he stands ever patient at the head of the gate.
I am grateful for those times along my journey when he has succored me. The modern definition of "succor" is to come to the relief of someone in distress. Originally it meant "to run to help." I like the image of my Savior running to me when I stumble and fall along the path. When Peter tried to walk with Jesus on the stormy Sea of Galilee and began to sink, the Lord immediately reached out his hand and lifted Peter up. When one out of ninety-nine sheep became lost, the Shepherd went in search of it, and finding it, carried it upon his shoulders back to the flock. The old billboards I used to see along the highway were right: Jesus saves!
My testimony is that he saves every time. He will let no one sink who reaches for his hand. He will let no sheep wander to the edge of the cliff and fall off who wants to be rescued. He succors us, he runs to us, he calls to us, he gives gentle direction (always careful to not override our agency), and he provides signposts along the way when we need to alter our paths. God is very, very good. May we learn to ask for his help, and then watch and listen diligently for those moments when he whispers, "Come, follow me."
No comments:
Post a Comment