Perspective Shift

So much has changed in a year. There is so much about the gospel that is clear to me now that I don’t remember having a true understanding of before. This Sunday was truly impactful, in particular, with a ton of epiphanies flying open like morning glories for the sunshine. In Gospel Principles, we had a discussion about sacrifice. Nick brought up the point that the reason people sacrificed animals before Christ came was for repentance. I always had a concept of animal sacrifice as a “tithing” thing but it suddenly made a light turn on for me when Nick said that; before the Atonement, how could people repent of their sins? They had to make the blood sacrifice with the firstborn, unblemished male of the flock, in similitude with Christ and his sacrifice for us because it hadn’t happened yet.

Then uncle David brought up how we have to have a broken heart and contrite spirit, the willingness to give everything to the Lord. Elder Richardson built upon that point as the discussion developed, saying that the motivating factor for our sacrifices for the Lord should be love. Then it clicked, like the link on a bracelet band being snapped closed. I remembered the stuff they were saying about service this month and the #LighttheWorld initiative, how we are supposed to be emulating Christ by these acts of service all month long. So, we follow his example to become more like him. But then I remembered that verse, Matthew 25:40:

40 And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

In giving service to others…we serve Christ. They, like the sacrament represents his atoning sacrifice, represent Him as we help the needy and the poor in spirit. So, not only do we become like the Savior when we do service but it is as if we directly serve Him and His will by doing service. In a circle it goes, tying everything together. I never understood service in this way before.

Another thing, I have become acutely aware of my status as a daughter. One of the young women got baptized today, someone who has been waiting a long time due to hard circumstances. They passed around note cards for her on which we were supposed to write about our own baptisms for her to have something inspiring to read whenever times were tough. I realized, I do not remember my baptism, so, I searched myself for something that might help her and might have helped me when things were starting to fade in importance. What I grasped upon was how we are children, we are daughters.

When I was younger, I wasn’t so dedicated as to aspire for missionary service but I loved the church. I went to seminary, I got married in the temple, and I had a calling in the church. I remember being adamant that I’d never fall away; I couldn’t conceive of it happening or what would be a worthwhile temptation strong enough to draw me away. I knew the truth, it made logical “sense” to me, and that was enough.

I have always had trouble keeping up with daily prayer and scripture study. I especially had trouble with the social aspects of church back then, from my teen years forward. Turns out, you can be inactive, not keeping the Word of Wisdom, nor your covenants and still argue with people online about basic church doctrine. “Knowing the truth” doesn’t do a whole lot of good without the repetition and keeping up with the gospel principles. It feels like I was foolish, arrogant, and vain back then, not understanding the way things creep in, the way justifications are made for progressively more and more aspects of your life until you are wandering in the mists, unable to see the iron rod any longer.

Despite the mantras of Young Womens programs, I don’t remember really “getting” the daughter aspect of myself. It’s like a word that you say to refer to an object over and over, without really picking it apart or understanding that it’s not just a “name” for this thing but a word with a specific design and purpose for its usage.

How apt “daughter” is, I now realize! Having gone through my rebellious phase, finding my Father’s rules too strict and confining, not realizing as I explored my perceived freedom that they were put there for my safety and well-being, my ultimate happiness, until it was too late. Finding my life unhappy and blaming my Father for His too-high expectations and “demands” of my life. Then feeling too ashamed and guilty for how I’d failed Him to come home or face His disappointment and judgement.

And finally…calling upon my Father for help, kneeling with head bowed at His feet, broken hearted and humbled, feeling His loving embrace around me through the Spirit. It is one thing I remind myself of whenever I get to feeling insecure about my efforts. I am a daughter of my Heavenly Father, I tell myself. It helps me feel good about what efforts I am able to put forth. It helps remind me to do the things I should, even when they are difficult.

It helps me remember, when bad things happen, or misfortune befalls me, that He’s not a wicked gambler rolling the dice in some game against the Devil, nor a sadistic child pouring water over an anthill. He knows me specifically and He has a plan for me. I’m not being punished but these changes, although felt for their negative impact, are course corrections. I often wonder if there is more I could be doing; is this a humbling experience? Have I forgotten to stay true to my promises? Where is my heart right now and does it need a course correction? And after that self-examination and self-correction, I walk forward, knowing that whatever happens next is what He intends for me.

Not only have these new enlightenments changed my perspective but also my desire for the gospel in my life. Whereas before, I relied on testimony as a candle flame held aloft in a windy storm, somehow confident despite my lack of strengthening it, that Heavenly Father would not let it blow out. Now I find myself vigilant, feeding that internal campfire every time I see it shrink even a little bit. Because I know how it feels when it goes out. I know how it feels to be the daughter who tells herself that she can’t call home because there’s no one there who wants to hear from her.