The Cursing of the Fig Tree

I wrote an essay on this lesser known Gospel story, and thought I would share it here.

Now, I know that this weekend everybody is going to be talking about the Crucifixion, the Resurrection, the Atonement, but I thought I would talk about a much lesser known incident from that week that really doesn't get talked about all that much. In fact, I don't recall hearing about it until I actually sat down and read the Gospels myself, and then I was a little confused by it. I thought I might introduce it here, describe it briefly, introduce a couple explanations I think are...inelegant, if you will, then supply what I feel to be the most logical and satisfying reasoning.

There is, in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, an incident that really confused me, because it seemed out of place: While in Jerusalem during his last week, Christ is looking for some food when he comes upon a fig tree which has no fruit. He then proceeds to curse the fig tree and in short order, it withers and dies.

Now I don't know much about fig trees, but it seemed to me that this was a rather petulant response to not getting fed, especially since the tree was apparently out of season at the time. It didn't seem very Christ-like. So I proceeded to do a little research.

I found a number of things about fig trees, a number of rather unsatisfying answers, and one that feels just right.

Let's start with the fig trees. Apparently, fig trees put out little edible "pre-fruit" when the tree is in leaf, which this tree was. In addition, there is often edible fruit left hanging on the tree from the prior season, especially since figs are generally eaten dried, like raisins, only better. This tree had leaves, but no pre-fruit, nor did it have any of the last year's fruit still hanging. This indicates the tree was barren, giving no fruit the prior season, nor the season to come.

Now, I know that trees are pretty, and they give shade, and they release oxygen into the air, but in the context of this story, this particular tree was useless, unnecessary, except for the larger point for which Christ was going to use it.

The first of the unsatisfying answers has to do with the tree being a a warning to the Nation of Israel. You can find many of these online, most of which have to do with the warnings that Christ gave to the Pharisees earlier in His ministry. The idea is that since Israel had failed to follow Him, it was doomed to wither and die. The problem with this is that there is nothing in the syurrounding text that would support this as the reason He had in mind at the time. It's inelegant and unsatisfying.

The second answer that I found unsatisfying is that this was a warning to the Apostles that THEY should be fruitful or face His wrath. I think this one doesn't hold up under any sort of smell test. It just doesn't FEEL right, does it? Christ threatening the Apostles to bear fruit or He'd wither them? At this point, it seems that, even if they weren't sure of the details, the Apostles were pretty set as far as what they would be doing and how they would be doing it. In addition, they did what they did out of love for Christ, not because they had been threatened to or else.

Like I said, not very satisfying.

In the end, the real answer came, once again, almost as a throwaway in Talmadge's Jesus the Christ. He really didn't spend a whole lot of time on it, but a little reflection and prayer will allow one to see how monumental this Truth really is.

Throughout all the Gospels, in His earthly ministry, Christ performed many miracles, each and every one BUT ONE an act of healing or other benefit, such as turning water to wine. The Cursing of the Fig Tree is the one miracle that had a negative outcome for the subject it was performed on.  Why?

We see numerous occasions of Christ laying on hands to heal the sick, the crippled, the blind, the lame. There is more than one occasion on which He raised the dead, the most notable being His friend Lazarus, who was restored to life after three days in the grave.

On this one occasion, Christ showed that He not only held the power to bestow good health and life in His hands, but the power to destroy and cause death.

Why is this important? Because in the context of the story of His life, this comes right at the end. almost immediately prior to all the bad stuff. Everything that comes after: The Betrayal, The Trials, The Scourging, The Humiliation, The Crucifixion, all of it could have been stopped by Him at any point. He could have looked at Herod: DEAD. Pilate: DEAD, the Pharisees: DEAD, Judas Iscariot: DEAD. Yet he chose to allow them to do what they did to Him. Nothing that was done to Him was done without His consent. It doesn't make the actions of those involved any less terrible, but He allowed to happen that which had to happen, in order to further the plan of His Heavenly Father.

So, this weekend, as you consider the events of nearly 2000 years ago, reflect on the fact that the Man who suffered and died for your sins could have stopped the proceedings at any time. This was not a stone set in motion, rolling downhill, picking up speed to become unstoppable: It was a preplanned, preordained, foretold occurrence that could nonetheless have been stopped at any moment by the Subject at the center of the storm.

Why did He do it? To pay the ransom for the sins of all those who would believe in Him. It is humbling to believe that He cares enough about me to do that. Do you believe you are worthy of His sacrifice? In all honesty, I don't understand how I could be, but He believes I am, and that is all that matters.

Faith

Not all that long ago, I considered myself to be someone whose "Faith circuit" was "broken." I knew all the words, I understood the concepts, I even sort of believed them to be true, but I couldn't FEEL that truth. I could see people all around me who had that assurance with them, that knowledge that something they couldn't prove was nonetheless true. I didn't understand how to get from where I was to where they were. But I wanted to get there.

Then, last Easter, I was at a Catholic Mass with my family, and I actually had a little epiphany during the homily, which is not something that had really ever happened before. I don't recall the point that was being made, but I do recall the point that I received. The topic was the Resurrection, when the women went to the tomb of Christ to anoint His body.

It struck me like a bolt of lightning: THEY WERE THERE TO ANOINT HIS BODY! The women who had followed him for years and who were as close as almost anyone EXPECTED TO FIND HIM DEAD!

A little more research shows that the Apostles themselves were stunned to find the body gone. They had traveled with Him, learned from Him, were expected to carry His church to the people. He had TOLD them that He would rise from the dead. But they didn't comprehend and had trouble believing it even when it happened. They didn't have faith in His words, those who had been closest to Him.

I wasn't broken, I was NORMAL!

So, about that time, I started studying the Book of Mormon. I was a bit incredulous to the idea that God could perform miracle after miracle for the family of Lehi, and then his descendants, and a short time later, they were back to their old, sinful ways. It seemed that the turn-around time between sinful to saintly to sinful was WAY too short. On their ocean voyage alone, it seemed they rebelled against God about a hundred times. How could He save them again and again, and yet they turn their backs on Him every time?

It cast a doubt over the whole Book of Mormon for me.

Then I read the Bible. Ever read it? It's jammed full of stories of people who have seen miracles and yet can't seem to stay faithful. Don't believe it? Let's start with Adam and Eve: They walked and talked with God in the Garden, and yet still managed to disobey and eat the forbidden fruit. (And that's actually a good thing, but that's a topic for another day).

Within just a few generations, the people of the world turned to idolatry and sin. The Book of Genesis is packed with this. Then we get to Moses and the Hebrews in Egypt. The people saw the works of God employed to free them from 400 years of slavery, saw the Angel of Death Pass Over their houses on the way to kill the firstborn of Egypt, followed a COLUMN OF FIRE through the desert, saw the Red Sea parted, ate Manna from Heaven...Need I go on? So, Moses goes up onto the mountain and within a few days, they're all, "You know what could really help us now? A golden calf to worship!"

Seriously?

All through the historical books of the Bible, the Kings of Israel and Judea fall far from perfection. They are told what to do and how they should do it, and yet, despite being Chosen of God, they fail and fail again. These are people who should have known better, who witnessed miracles, who spoke to God Himself, in ways that have been mostly lost to us. What possible chance do we have? If they couldn't keep faith, how could it possibly be expected of us?

Then we get to the New Testament.

The New Testament is all about faith and finding our way back to our Heavenly Father. There is an analogy used numerous times throughout the Gospels of having "Faith as a mustard seed." The mustard seed, apparently, though quite small, produces a tree that is quite out of proportion when considering the size of other seeds to the respective trees they produce. The generally accepted interpretations of this analogy are that 1). If you start with a little faith, it will grow larger, and 2). That even a little faith will allow you to move mountains.

I think this there's a somewhat deeper interpretation as well.

Let me first note that faith is often referred to as a "Gift from God," which seems a little odd. In order to believe in God, I first have to receive a gift from Him? One sort of presupposes the other, doesn't it? I mean, if you don't believe in God, then how are you going to believe a gift is from Him?

I think we could combine these two concepts and expand them into a larger analogy, say a garden, or gardening, anyway. We, as Mormons, believe the Law of Christ is written on the hearts of men. This is the little voice, the conscience that we all hear that tells us when we're transgressing. It's also that need that pretty much everybody feels to find some larger meaning, to have, as the song says, "Something to Believe In."

This is the Mustard Seed, and it is a gift from God, whether we choose to accept that or not. But it's not the only gift.

With that seed comes a contract from our Heavenly Father: If you plant that seed, he will cause it to sprout and grow. In return, we need to feed the plant that springs from it, actively care for it and nurture it. As we tend to our seedling, he will cause it to grow into a tree that will bear fruit that will not only sustain us, but help to nourish those around us. But we need to take care of that seed, lest it wilt or be taken by weeds.

How do we plant the seed? It's really simple: We pray. We ask Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, to give us faith, to show us His mercy and love. And He will. It is His promise to us.

There is a story in the one of the Gospels, where a man asks Jesus to heal his son, and Jesus says that all he has to do is BELIEVE. The man says, "I believe, Lord. Help me with my unbelief." This sounds like he's contradicting himself, but it's really pretty simple: He had planted that seed, and was asking for growth. He was saying that he, essentially, believed that Jesus was who He said He was, but that he needed assistance to allow that seedling to take root and grow.

I know from experience how hard it is to pray to a God you're not really sure you believe in. I spent better than forty years being one step up from an agnostic. I believed in a Creator, intelligent design, call it what you will, (the idea of a universe springing into existence by happenstance was and is too far-fetched for me to take seriously) but the idea of a Father in Heaven who cared for me personally and listened to my words was just not something I could accept as true.

I had prayed a number of times before, in a way. I had memorized a bunch of prayers from growing up Catholic, and who hasn't asked for help in some tight spot or another? But the idea of an actual conversation taking place between God and myself was just asking too much. But then, last year, I started receiving responses. And not just vague impressions days later: I would pray for enlightenment on a particular passage in Scripture, and the answer would come to me almost immediately. And when I would ask others about that response, it turned out they were getting the same answers, as well.

I opened my mind little by little to the possibilities and knowledge and information started flooding in. And the more I learned, the more I read and studied, which is the tending of that little seedling of faith. We read Scriptures and study the teachings of those who have gone before us in order to water that sprout and make it grow strong. The combination of reading and praying allows us to grow our tree tall and fruitful, with deep roots.

But just because we have faith doesn't mean we won't falter at times. Life is hard, even with faith. And we see through Scriptures that the faith of some of the wisest and most favored of God has failed time and again. We learn through the Parable of the Prodigal Son that God KNOWS that we will waver and fall, but that if we come back to him in a spirit of true repentance, with honest intention to make amends, He will welcome us back with honor and grace. We also learn from the faithful older brother that we should welcome our fallen brothers and sisters back in the same manner.

And here is a promise that I feel absolutely confident in making: Find a Mormon meetinghouse, attend a Sacrament meeting. The people there WILL welcome as a lost brother or sister. Talk with them, talk with the missionaries. It will be a rewarding and enlightening experience, if you open your heart to it.

Here's a mind-blowing thought: When the father in the parable speaks of his son returning from the dead, he's speaking in hyperbole. But when the symbolism is stripped away and the example is applied to the reality of Heavenly Father, it is the literal Truth.

So, we can see that faith isn't just something that you either have or don't, or even something that is constant in our lives. Everybody, even those who grow up in the church, even those who are in the highest positions of leadership, that everybody else looks to for guidance, ALL of them have moments of doubt. Bu we persevere and with the aid and comfort of the Holy Ghost, we come out on the other side stronger and wiser.

If you feel like you're lacking something, if your life needs meaning, if you want to know WHY, you're not alone. But there's a way out, a way to gain insight and knowledge, a way to find purpose.

All you have to do is ask.

Sacrament - Some Thoughts

So, I have to teach a class on the Sacrament at church on Sunday. This is what Catholics call Holy Communion, and I'm sure other denominations have their own names for it, or use some variation on these. It is the bread and wine (or water) taken on Sunday to commemorate the Last Supper, in case you didn't know. I was reading through the material that I'm supposed to be teaching from, and it occurred to me that it somewhat incomplete. I mean, it's not supposed to be comprehensive or anything, just the thoughts and teachings of one man (Joseph F. Smith) on the subject, a hundred years ago or so. I think this might be a good opportunity to delve a little deeper into the history and symbolism and get a larger picture, because, as important as President Smith thought it is, the teachings seem to only scratch the surface of what it is all about.

Of course, maybe this is stuff everyone already know and I'm just late to the party, but then again, it never hurts to review important material.

Anyway.

The story of the Sacrament doesn't begin with Christ at all, or rather it does, but it predates His earthly ministry by several thousand years, with Adam and Eve and their sons. We know from the story of Cain and Abel in Genesis that sacrifice was a requirement even when mankind was young. There is no buildup to the concept in Genesis, it is just presented as though everyone knew about it and accepted it as normal and natural, even to the very first humans on the planet.

Sacrifice required that the best of a crop or litter be given, thus, while Abel ws much loved of God for giving the best of his lambs, Cain found much less favor for giving lesser quality items from his crops. This story, as we know, ended badly.

Forward a few millenia to the time of Moses. We all know the story of the plagues sent to convince Pharoah to Let Moses's People Go. The last one, the Killing of the Firstborn, required the Hebrews to sacrifice a lamb and paint the door frame with its blood, so the Angel of Death would know which houses to pass over. This became, of course, the first Passover, which Jewish people still celebrate today.

After the people were freed from Egypt, they went into the desert where Moses was given the laws that they were to follow. These are in detail in the Old Testament books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy, and include many, MANY instructions on sacrifice, including what constiutes a sacrifice, how it should be sacrificed, and who should perform the rites. This was the Tribe of Levi, the Levites, headed by Moses' brother Aaron, the namesake of the Aaronic Priesthood.

What I didn't know before, and I suspect a lot of people probably still don't, is that the sacrifices that were made were not just thrown to rot, or buried away: They were eaten, usually by the priests. There is a lot of sacrificing in these books, and I can't help but wonder how the priests managed to eat so much. You could say that the rituals and prayers would fill a book, and they pretty much do.

There were a lot of other sacrifices to be made by the people at various times throughout the year, but the most prominent was the  Passover, which commemorated the first in Egypt. There were a bunch of ceremonial things that were written for the people to say and do, one of which was to sacrifice a lamb for the Passover dinner, which was then eaten. This is important.

One important rule to remember is this from Leviticus: The eating or drinking of the blood of any animal was forbidden, as the life of the animal is in the blood. The Blood is the Life. Remember this, and remember that it was forbidden.

So, now jump forward about 1400 years to the time of Christ. What we call Good Friday today, the day Christ was crucified, was the day on which Passover fell in that year. So, Christ, who, as we know, was and is referred to as the Lamb of God, was sacrificed by his father (remember the story of Abraham and Isaac?) on Passover.

The night before, at the Last Supper, Christ gave instructions concerning the Sacrament: the bread was His body, which was eaten by the Apostles, the wine His blood. So, four thousand years of sacrifice culminates in the Sacrifice of Christ as the Passover Lamb of God. All history to this point foreshadows this event.

And remember, blood was forbidden to be ingested, because the Blood is the Life? By taking in the water used in the Sacrament, we are symbolically taking into ourselves the Life of Christ. To drink the life of a living being is death; to drink the Life of Christ is Life Everlasting. We are making the commitment and covenant to live as He would have us lived and to try to live as He Himself did live.
When we partake of the Sacrament in Sacrament meeting each week, we are not just renewing our covenants and remembering the Atonement of Christ, we are recreating the Last Passover, in which the Blood of the Lamb was shed for us, that the Angel of Death would pass over our house for all eternity, if only we will believe in Christ and do as He asks us.

A Quick Update

In the last post, I discussed adultery and apostasy, and wondered if a change in religion during a marriage mihgt not be considered grounds to dissolve that marriage.

So, since I've been going to church, it seems that almost everything I read or hear is meant for the time that I read or hear it. So, today, two days after I wrote that, I'm reading Chapter 17 of Jesus the Christ, by James E. Talmadge. (That link is to a free copy at Gutenberg.org. There is a 99 cent on available at Amazon, with somewhat better formatting.) In this chapter, he discusses some of the teachings of Christ, and defines adultery as "infidelity to marriage vows."

I find this interesting. I don't know of an explicit vow in any ceremony that says, "I promise not to abouse you," but I think it is fairly implied. It is certainly a breech of trust. I have to say, I know God loves us, and He has given us the right to self-defense. If someone is in an abusive marriage, sometimes the only way they can defend themselves is by getting out. The vows usually include "love, honor and cherish (or obey for you old schoolers)," and I don't see abuse as having anything to do with ANY of those."

If you are in an abusive marriage, it seems to me, you have the God-given right to get out of it.

P.S. I know it seems I've been reading that book forever, but it's only been a couple months, and I have had a number of other things I have had to read at the same time.

P.P.S. I have a topic for my first teaching assignemnt on Sunday: Chapter 6 of the Teachings of Joseph Fielding Smith, about the Sacrament. I think I will try to detail the history from Adam to Christ, as I think the historical baclground makes the ceremony even more meaningful. I will try to write something up to put here as I get my thoughts together.

The Voice

 I said last time I wrote that I would say a little more about God talking to me, so here goes.
When I say this, I don't mean in the sense that He comes down and says, "Hey, how you doing?" and I respond with jaunty, "Hey, God! Good to see you again!" That would be kind of nifty, but it doesn't work that way. At least not in this life.

The Bible tells us that He will talk to us through visions and dream and a "small, still voice." Once we learn to recognize these for what they are, we can start to understand what He's trying to tell us. It's not always easy and what He tells us isn't always pleasant, but it's usually something that will help us.

I have had dreams that have had such a ring of truth that they stick with me for months, as though they had actually happened. There have been a few recently. I won't discuss them just yet, because even though they happened first, later events help to solidify their significance.

I have spoken before about the vision of Paradise that brought me to Christ and the Church, through a convoluted and difficult journey that still causes heartache.

What I want to talk about briefly is that small still voice. A lot of people call it the conscience, but it's not really that. It's much more complicated than that. It's that voice that tells you to do something out of you sphere of comfort. It's a sense of certainty of the correctness of something, regardless of what common sense and reason may seem to be telling you about that thing. It's an almost literal voice at times that says, "See! That's why I asked you to do that!"

I have an example of the latter.

When I first started going to my church, people would often bring up the subject of Tithing, which is giving a percentage of income to the church to do its work. Though it is commanded in Scripture, the people would speak of it as a Blessing, rather than a Burden, which seemed odd to me. Sometimes it seemed as though they were trying to convince THEMSELVES that it was a blessing. But mostly, it felt like they were talking to me. Trying to convice me that I ought to try it, as though it were some sort of expensive drug that didn't sure anything and didn't get you high. A bargain at any price, hey?

There is a Scriptural verse, Malachi 3:10, where God challenges us to test him; pay the tithe and see if you don't get more than paid back in full. As I continued investigating, I knew I wanted to join the church, but was still skeptical about the whole tithing thing. But, I was willing to give it a go.

Now, our family finances are often shaky, but I put a little aside each pay, waiting until I felt we were up to date on our bills and payday was close and then I gave a check. It wasn't a huge check, in the grand scheme of things, but to me, it was pretty big: the biggest check I'd ever written that wasn't to buy something for myself or my family. It felt good.

Four days later was payday, and four days after that, there was a total of $10 in our joint checking and savings accounts. And no food in the house.

Although we didn't know it at the time, my mother-in-law had sent a nice check to my wife earlier that morning, for reasons that are still unclear.

And the two days later, we received refund checks for overpayments to our retirement systems which we hadn't expected to receive for several more weeks.

Then, the morning after we received those checks, I was going through my "Important Papers Drawer, which I've gone through dozens of times over the last few years, and this time, an envelope of money fell out of the pile. One of my cousins had sent it years ago to help cover expenses after my stroke and in my confused state, I put it in the drawer and forgot about it. But it is amazing that through all those times I've been through that drawer it should have been right there on top when I needed it most.

But the kicker is this: The envelope contained the exact amount of my tithing check.

I felt an almost physical sense of "SEE!!" and was broght nearly to my knees.

God had spoken to me.

When we give God what he asks of us, he will, as Scripture says, give us far more than we give him. Far more than we are CAPABLE of giving him, even if we give him everything we are and do.

That is the small, still voice, though it isn't always so dramatic.

That Sunday in church, I shared my experience and far from being amazed, people were happy for me, as though NOW I was REALLY a member. When I remarked that that sort of thing doesn't generally happen to me, they told me to be ready for it to happen all the time.

In addition, the I had an understanding that I should go farther; to realize that money/time isn't the only thing that Heavenly Father will repay in kind, that sacrifice is not a loss to us, but a net gain. I understand this now, but my rational mind still sort of resists. He is not necessarily asking for more than I am willing to give, but the giving is going to be even more excrutiatingly painful than the last few months have been.

He wants everything I have and everything I am and I am afraid.

I'm going to end up giving it, willingly, but I am afraid.

I will talk more about that later, as well as how it all fits in with the dreams I've had.

An Odd Thought

So, I've been doing some family history work. I think I said that earlier. I am five generations back on one side and three on another, and I have yet to start the other two.

Wait? Four sides?

Yep. I was adopted, which means I have four different parents to research. Which leads to my odd thought: Since the adoption agency tried to keep children with parents of similar ethnicity, and since they seem to have done a pretty good job matching, with one parent from each side matching pretty closely a parent from the other, there is a pretty good chance that by the time I get a couple more generations back, I will find a common ancestor.

I will be something like my own sixteenth cousin, twenty times removed, or something like that. Not quite my own grandpa, but still that's going to be an amusing moment.

Interestingly, since I am doing it for religious reasons, I found my dad's grandparents on his father's side have already had some of the work started for them. There is still stuff to be done, but it's kind of neat to see that someone was already thinking of them.

I think it's kind of romantic: My great-grandparents, married in 1894, finally receiving a sealing in Paradise in the last year or two, with the opportunity to spend eternity together. There is a whole lot more work waiting. I have so much to do.

On a Lighter Note

Yesterday, I was informed of my first church calling: I'm going to be teaching the Elder's Quorum for one Sunday a month. It may not seem like much, but my heart is in my throat.

I went from a guy four years ago who thought his "faith" part of his brain was broken to a guy who had no church a year ago to a guy who will have the opportunity to actually lead.

They didn't put me in charge of, I don't know, making sure the bread is ready to go, or filling the cups with water: They gave me a full 25% of their learning time. That's a HUGE responsibility to me, and I will work hard to live up to it.

It's an amazing journey, one that I thought I would never make.

I thought I would share this here because it's so different from all the bad stuff that's happened to me lately, my family is antagonistic to my church activities (I can actually hear my wife sneer every time I bring it up), and I have no friends left, so I decided to throw it out into the æther.

I can't believe I've gone from someone with little or no faith at all to someone with a good deal of faith who will lead. Maybe God DOES have something in mind for me.

Forgiveness

I had a discussion months ago with Abigail about the concept of forgiveness. I believed it was a two-way street, that in order to forgive someone, that that person first had to be remorseful for their transgressions. She believed that this was not so; that Scriptures require us to forgive someone even if they don't ask us for forgiveness. She was right, as usual.

In the New Testament, there are numerous discussions of forgiveness. We are supposed to forgive any transgression, as many times as necessary, even "unto seven times seventy times."  Even if the person doesn't ask for our forgiveness.

I'm unclear as to some of the specifics, though. Even of we forgive, are we to roll over every time the transgressor hurts us? That doesn't make sense. It seems to me that with unlimited, unconditional forgiveness, we simply give an abuser license to abuse us. There seems to be an implication that there can be a last time to forgive, a 491st transgression, if you will.

Or perhaps, that we have the right to remove ourselves from the presence of the transgressor. You may forgive someone who abuses you, but if you stick around, you have to expect to be doing a lot more forgiveness, as an abuser will take it as consent.

I say all this because I received an apology note from my wife for picking a fight on Wednesday night. I can forgive that. I have before. But there is a fundamental disagreement, an underlying argument that is irreconcilable. I don't see any way to work around it. Every time I want to talk about anything  even remotely related, no matter how peripherally, she reacts with instinctive hatred and animosity. So, I have to tiptoe around a subject that has become central to my life for fear of provoking an angry reaction.

It's not fair to me and it's not fair to her. If she's going to have the opportunity to learn what I have learned and experience what I have experienced, it will necessarily have to be without me: My presence will prejudice her against acceptance. If I'm around, she will never accept and the conflict will make everyone around miserable.

We were always friends, which I think was a strength of our relationship.We enjoyed doing things together, going places, seeing movies and plays, amusement parks, hiking. Tomorrow night, I got free tickets to the Improv; We'll go and have dinner and maybe laugh out loud. But I think our spiritual journey, the most important of all our travels together, is likely coming to an end. I've gone someplace where she refuses to follow, and to go back would be to turn my back on God. I have work to do here, and she doesn't want to be a part of it, resents the need I feel to do that work.

I'll forgive her for that, but like I said before, the chasm between us has likely grown too wide and deep to be spanned, and it may be better to part now (or soon), while we can still BE friends, or at least friendly. I don't know where to go from here. Or, rather, I kind of do, but I'm not strong enough yet to make that leap of faith.

Life is hard.

Are We There Yet?

Wow, did I have a great night last night, if by "great night" you mean "horrible night that reached a superlative of suckiness." Which is, in fact, what I mean.
I spent yesterday afternoon doing some research into family history. I've never been overly curious before, but it is part of my church's doctrine that it is necessary work, and in the process I found a few things that I hadn't known before and that whet my curiosity for more.

I thought that I had never met any of my great-grandparents, but it turns out, my mom's grandmother on her father's side died when I was three. There is almost no chance that I didn't meet her, I just don't remember it, like I don't remember meeting my dad's father, but know that I did. It's a little strange, but comforting in a way. At least to me.

I saw the draft card of my mom's dad's father (when there are four or eight or sixteen, you start having to have to refer to them that way), from the First World War. In his own handwriting.

I found my dad's dad's father on the 1940 Census, with record of his immigration from east central Europe. His wife immigrated in the same year, 1890, and they were married in 1894.

It's a strange feeling, knowing that the actions of all these strangers led to me sitting where I am right now. That's the egocentric way to look at it, anyway. I really look at it as how many people are in the world right now, doing whatever they are doing, because these people made the choices they did when they did. It's humbling. You can look backward that way, then extrapolate forward, wondering how many people there will be, doing whatever they may be doing, 125 years in the future, because of choices we make today.

Speaking of choices, I made the choice to tell my wife about my afternoon. I chose poorly. She immediately wanted to turn it unto a discussion on doctrine, rather than a conversation about the cool things I'd learned.

I say, "discussion on doctrine," but what I really mean is her telling me that I'm wrong and that it's stupid and berating me and my church in general. The few words I got in were brushed aside. I cited Scripture, but she doesn't care whether it's in the Bible or not, she knows what's right, and what's right isn't what I believe.

So, after she stomped off to bed, I stayed up for a while. I did what I normally do when I'm upset and played solitaire for an hour or so. When I finally went up to bed, the kids were, as is their habit, strewn out all over my side of the bed. It happens almost every night. So, I went to carry them to their own beds, but their rooms were both so messy I couldn't get them to their beds safely.

I am so sick of this.

I pulled my C-PAP and alarm clock off the night stand, swept all the stuffed animals off of my sons bed (after climbing over the mountain of junk on the floor) and slept there.

It's only the second time in nearly twenty years I have chosen to sleep elsewhere because I was angry.

I knew last year at this time that my marriage was ending. I lied to everyone. I lied to myself. I thought I couldn't leave because it would look like I was trying to "trade up," if you will, to leave her for someone better. I also thought if I fought hard enough, long enough, that there was a chance that things would turn around. But they haven't. They've gotten worse. I honestly don't know that there's anything left anymore.

I should have left a year ago, darn the appearance, and let the chips fall where they may. Would I have been happier now? I don't know. But I couldn't be any worse off.

Sometimes the road not taken is the one we should have followed.

Are we there yet? Is my marriage over?

It's getting close. For the first time today, I researched the legalities of ending a marriage in this state. I never thought I would have to do that. And yet I should have done it a year ago.

She and I are on the road to different forevers. I think that very soon, our paths will diverge and we will only see each other across a great, unspannable divide.

I should have left a year ago, and I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused by overstaying my welcome.

Dogs and Doctrine

There is a certain denomination/sect/cult that believes that animals who are loved by their owners and are faithful to them can earn a soul through that service.

I used to believe this.

Turns out, as I learn more of the doctrine of the church I've joined, it intersects and expands on my beliefs in a good way. We apparently believe that all life, plant and animal was first created in spirit, then in body.

I told one gentleman at church the whimsical postscript to this mornings post about my dog Mollie, about how her spirit followed me home. He just looked at me, smiled and said, "Of course."

I want to cry again.

Our church says that Mollie will be there with me when I die.

Tears.

It was another wonderful day at church today. I may write something about it later. Church keeps me alive. It gives me hope and reason to continue on, no matter how bad now is.

I wish Abigail were still speaking with me. I have so much I want to share with her, and so many questions to ask. I miss her with all my soul.

Blah, BLAH, Blah

So, I got to give my first talk today at church. It wasn't a regular meeting, though: It was a Fireside evening where investigators come and learn a little more about the church.
My topic was a brief background and a testimony of my conversion.

I was nervous, but I figured I would do okay. I had a few pages of note to make sure I said what I wanted to say, in the order I wanted to say it. I mean, seriously. who can't talk about themselves for five to seven minutes?

Me, apparently.

I didn't talk for five to seven minutes. I went on for almost half an hour. Apparently I do "blah, BLAH, blah."

I started with the standard opening: "Four score and seven years ago," then segued into the Shatner version of Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds. Seriously. I wanted to start out on a light note.

I followed with "My name is Arik and I'm an alcoholic," which got a few polite chuckles for what might have been a weak joke, if in bad taste. Only, it wasn't a joke. It is part of the centerpiece of my thesis: We make bad decisions and yet Heavenly Father still loves us: While we are rewarded by the Spirit for the difficult choices we make, we are also given forgiveness and absolution, a chance at redemption, for the mistakes we make, even when they are serious.

Alcoholism is suicide. Even if you come out, as I did, with nothing more than a slight tremor from the berve damage, you are killing yourself eight , nine, ten hours at a time. For those hours, I could be Not Me, which was what I wanted to be. It's still what I want to be, but I am trying to achieve that through prayerful living and more Godly choices now, instead of just drowning myself 8 ounces of vodka at a time. Yeah, my shots weren't from shot glasses, they were from tumblers.

I ended up staying and talking with people for almost forty minutes after the meeting. They were locking the doors behind me as I left. There are a lot of people like me in the church. The stake president is a convert just like me. There were a few alcoholics there, as well. It's nice to know I'm not alone. At least when I'm at church.

I asked my mom to come and hear me. She had other things to do. My kids were supposed to have a club meeting tonight, but it was cancelled. When they got home, I asked if they wanted to come and hear me, but my wife had more important things planned. I guess The Simpsons was coming on. (BTW: Number one thing no one has EVER said: "I'd love to come along, but the Pro Bowl is on tonight.")

I wish church was every day for eight hours. At least.

On a completely unrelated note, after Weight Watchers on Saturday, I heard a Porterhouse calling me and I ended up at Longhorn. I also had a coupon. (Ever notice the Weight Watchers store are always surrounded by restaurants? The one I go to is surrounded by them. And oddly, the next store over is a bird seed store (I know, right!?!) but every year the owner lets the Girl Scouts sell cookies in front of her store on Staurday mornings, which are the biggest meetings of the week. Evil.)

Anyway you know how "theme" type restaurants name their potties in cutesy names, like caballeros and damas at a Mexican place? Well, Longhorn names theirs "Bulls" and "Lambs." which is hilarious because the female of Bull isn't Lamb; it's Cow. Which would be hilarious: can you imagine telling your ladyfriend she needed to go to the Cow's room? Or should I say, your soon to be EX-ladyfriend?

And that Porterhouse? Tender and Delicious. Too bad you didn't come to Weight Watchers with me: I had plenty to share. And I would have appreciated the company.

P.S. I actually got to enjoy one of the few things about winter that doesn't totally suck: donuts in the church parking lot. Other than occasionally sledding and sometimes a really pretty morning after an ice storm. you can TOTALLY keep winter.

Call for the Priest

I'm not sure how this happened (actually, I know exactly how it happened, I just don't really believe it), but in just over six months, I've gone from a guy with out a church, a guy who was barely even really Christian, to an ordained priest. And NO, not with the Universal Life Church. I got that YEARS ago.

It was a simple ceremony, like so much of what happens at church, but it was powerful and meaningful and left me with a feeling of Good. There was even a vote of church members as to whether I should receive the Priesthood, which was unanimous (They usually are). I really wish I felt worthy of this honor, but I still feel pretty much like an unworthy slug.

Anyway, I can't perform weddings (yet), but I CAN perform baptisms, and prepare and bless the Sacrament (That's Communion, for all you Catholics out there), as well as some other nifty things

As a former sort of Catholic, "priest" had a somewhat different connotation (NO I WASN'T AN ALTAR BOY!!), but the duties are the same: Preach the Gospel and bring people to Christ. In fact, I already have a friend in mind who might benefit from a change of church, whom I would like to bring along. She may come with me, she may not. But I will try.

Alea Iacta Est

The die is cast.
In these latter days, it's imperative to know where one stands, and to commit to it.

So I did.

I have now been baptized into my church, becoming a member. I wouldn't have guessed I would be doing this a year ago, but there you go.

Now, when any asks me which side I'm on in the battle between Good and Evil, I will tell them I stand with God.

I, naturally, have pictures of the event.

These are the two missionaries who were with me for most of my instruction.

I'm the fat guy in the middle.

The one on the right was Elder Elwood, which is funny.

It's funny because I called both of his partners Elder Jake.

They're on a mission from God 

 These are the two missionaries prior to my baptism.

 This Brother Owens, who performed my baptism.

He's an awesome guy.

 Me, immediately post-immersion.

 Then I bore testimony to the things that lead to my conversion.

Well, some anyway.

 Brother Owens and I

My wife showed up and brought the kids, which was not a forgone conclusion.

I quoted them in my testimony, by name.

They were instrumental in my conversion.

Anyway, it was a pretty good evening. We had more people than seats to put them in, and more who couldn't make it for various reasons. My new church mates are friendly and awesome.

An interesting factoid: The confirmation the next day involves the laying on of hands and a blessing. Ever since that happened, I have had a strange but wonderful feeling. I feel almost as though I could shoot lightening bolts from my fingertips. It's a good feeling,

Sadly, my mom didn't make it nor did the friend I said hated me enough to defininitely not want to come. Other than that, good time was had by all.

I really love my new church and wish I had someone to share that with.

An Invitation to My Suicide

Growing up Catholic, I have always thought of baptism as the obvious symbol of the washing away of sins, in the view of Catholicism, that's generally viewed as the Original Sin of Adam in the Garden of Eden. But as I studied and read more, I realized that that's not the main purpose of the ordinance.
Baptism is referred to by Paul in Romans 6:4 as a burial. We are buried witrh Christ into death through baptism. Then we are resurrected into life, through faith in Him, symbolized by rising from the water.

I had never before thought of baptism as a metaphor for the resurrection of Christ. But it is.

But, in order to be buried and rise again, one must first die. And this is by choice, at our own hand.

So, in that spirit, I would like to invite anyone out there who happens to be in the Greater Akron (Ohio) area that is interested to attend my (highly symbolic) ritual suicide. It will be Saturday, November 23rd, 2013. The church is at 106 E Howe. Rd in Tallmadge.

I hope when I "rise again," it's as someone better. I've known me for many years, and I have to say: Not a fan. I'm not really sure why God wants me, but he's been calling to me pretty strongly, and if He'll have me, maybe I'm not as bad as I think.

There will probably be a bunch of people from the Rootstown Ward there, and maybe a few from the Tallmadge Ward, and I managed to talk my wife into attending and bringing the kids, as well. I think my mom will also be there. So, a pretty good crowd.

The only dark spot on the day is, sadly, the one person whom I would most wish could attend now hates me so badly as to never want to speak to me again. That has ripped my soul into pieces, the edges raw and bleeding. I wish there were some way to atone, but I guess some things are unforgiveable.

So it goes.

Building a Testimony

Today in church, I ha a chance to share the story of my alcoholism, from its inception 20 years ago to my eventual sobriety in 2005. Through the last 6 months or so, I have done a lot of reflecting and a lot of praying, which is a very new experience for me. However, it has given me a lot of insight into my past and the places and times where the Hand of God has truly had an effect in my life.

It's funny, really. I have known my story for years. I ought to: I've lived it. But in the past six months, I've come to see it from a new perspective, sort of like the second Back to the Future movie, where we get to see future Marty McFly running around behind the scenes while past Marty McFly is doing all the stuff from the first movie. Or maybe those Making of Star Wars specials they had on TV when I was a kid, where you'd think, "So THAT's how they did that!" I look back and see where the Holy Spirit has rewarded me for making difficult decisions, often nearly immediately, and I can see where bad decisions have resulted in negative effects.

Lots of bad decisions. I've made a few recently that I would give pretty much anything short of my soul to make right.

It's a little like that old Footprints poem, where God says, "Where there is only one set of footprints is where I carried you." I have some perspective now to see those places, and I can see a good number of them, as well as a number where he dragged me kicking and screaming.

As I looked back, I could see numerous inflection points where my life had been improved by Divine intervention, and if I were to plot a curve through those points, that curve would lead straight to the baptism I have now scheduled for the 23rd of November. I don't know what lies beyond that for me, but I've learned you can never see the top of the mountain before you actually attain the summit.

It felt really good to tell everyone about the trouble I'd had, and the help I'd had in overcoming it. There are a lot of converts like me, and one gentleman told me that I'm "not alone" in the troubles I'd had. There was a lot of support and many comments afterward. I felt relieved. I wanted the people there to know that the guy they're getting isn't perfect, not even close, but he's trying.

For the first time in my life I've found a church that I can believe in. A church that makes sense to me. A church that feels right to me and FOR me.

And for the first time in a long time, I can see a future beyond the next few weeks.

P.S. If anyone is going to be in the Akron area on the 23rd of November and would like to attend, you can feel free to drop me a line. We would love to have you.

Beggar's Night

Well, I finally got my wife and kids through the door of my church on Friday night for their annual Halloween get-together. It went better than I expected.

There was a potluck dinner, followed by games for the kids, then trick-or-treating through the building. There was a pretty good turnout, from what I understand (I'm fairly new to the church), and there were a lot of kids for my kids to play with.

The kids got so much candy they could barely carry it all, and when I told them that that's what every Sunday is like, they ALMOST believed me.

For my wife's part, she met the wife of one of her co-workers, and some of the people I know from Sundays, and she talked with a number of them. I think she was a little surprised our heads weren't spinning around, or that we weren't chanting backwards in Latin.

It's a good thing we put of the sacrifice of the virgins until next week.

Anyway, some small hope for the future...