Tuesday, January 18, 2011
AND CAMBRIDGE!
And I was accepted to go to Cambridge this summer! What an amazing twenty-four hours!!!!!!
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Teacher's reply
Since my research is taking an eternity to compute (ahh, statistical software) I thought I'd post a follow-up to my email to my professor.
My professor was quite considerate, and addressed my concerns; he actually summed up my worry as a concern about priestcraft, which I thought was an interesting take. He reassured me that my grades would NOT be based on coerced risk, and also conducted a class discussion on the topic. As it turns out, what I was worried about is not only unethical, it is also entirely illegal. Anyway, I was more than satisfied - impressed, even - with my teacher's response, and am enjoying the class.
On a side note, I have submitted a poem to a BYU creative writing journal, and will this evening submit the same poem to "Third Coast" creative writing journal. The poem is rather edgy; I intentionally used some imagery that some find offensive or disgusting. I think the overall effect can be uplifting, however, and that was the point.
I think it fits on the last part of this post, by Cassandra Barney, on art (specifically, her quote that one must expose something vulnerable for art to happen). Like her painting, my poem is a little edgy for an overall benefit; though I must admit this type of art (both her painting and my poem) pose something of a problem for me. I had a long discussion with a friend about the poem; she called it "harsh art." My question is this: is there a place for a painting of a naked woman in modern LDS art? I think so, but the tougher question then becomes: where is the line between nude art, or harsh art, and pornography?
My professor was quite considerate, and addressed my concerns; he actually summed up my worry as a concern about priestcraft, which I thought was an interesting take. He reassured me that my grades would NOT be based on coerced risk, and also conducted a class discussion on the topic. As it turns out, what I was worried about is not only unethical, it is also entirely illegal. Anyway, I was more than satisfied - impressed, even - with my teacher's response, and am enjoying the class.
On a side note, I have submitted a poem to a BYU creative writing journal, and will this evening submit the same poem to "Third Coast" creative writing journal. The poem is rather edgy; I intentionally used some imagery that some find offensive or disgusting. I think the overall effect can be uplifting, however, and that was the point.
I think it fits on the last part of this post, by Cassandra Barney, on art (specifically, her quote that one must expose something vulnerable for art to happen). Like her painting, my poem is a little edgy for an overall benefit; though I must admit this type of art (both her painting and my poem) pose something of a problem for me. I had a long discussion with a friend about the poem; she called it "harsh art." My question is this: is there a place for a painting of a naked woman in modern LDS art? I think so, but the tougher question then becomes: where is the line between nude art, or harsh art, and pornography?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Response
Having received more response to my blog post and email than I expected, I thought I'd write a brief follow up.
Several people have been surprised by my characterization of learning as repentance; some of these responses have been more coherent than others; I will respond to general thoughts, and let other arguments stand, or fall, as they may.
The Bible Dictionary in the LDS edition of the scriptures defines repentance as:
"Repentance. The Greek word of which this is the translation denotes a change of mind, i.e., a fresh view about God, about oneself, and about the world. Since we are born into conditions of mortality, repentance comes to mean a turning of the heart and will to God, and a renunciation of sin to which we are naturally inclined. Without this there can be no progress in the things of the soul’s salvation, for all accountable persons are stained by sin, and must be cleansed in order to enter the kingdom of heaven. Repentance is not optional for salvation; it is a commandment of God" (http://lds.org/scriptures/bd/repentance?lang=eng&letter=r)
Forming a fresh view about God, about oneself, and about the world is exactly what learning is. As someone studies chemistry, they form a fresh view of the world; as someone does math problems, as one of my detractors used as an example, one forms a fresh view of logic, or math, which is part of the world. In other words, any real learning is a portion of repentance. LDS doctrine teaches that God is the source of all truth. Thus, learning any truth is a means of coming closer to God. Joseph Smith taught that members of the Church should accept and act on all truth, from whatever source they could find it.
I suppose that one could learn something that is not true, and thus be deceived and not come closer to God; learning falsehood is not repentance. But with the positive connotations associated with learning, I believe that I can successfully call learning "discovering truth." If learning is a positive thing, it is repentance. Every good thing comes from God, from Christ.
One of the least coherent critiques I've received is the remark made by a commenter accusing me of not thinking of this is as a religious issue. On the contrary - my point is that EVERY instant of life is a religious issue, especially learning.
An important note here - some learning is more important, and brings us closer to God more powerfully, than others. A knowledge of the reality of the Atonement of Christ is necessary for our salvation and exaltation; a knowledge of particle physics is not. Or rather, is not initially; if we are to become like our Heavenly Father, a being who knows EVERYTHING, then yes, we do "come short of the glory of God" (Rom. 3:23) by virtue of our ignorance. This is a possible explanation for Joseph Smith's statement: "No man may be saved in ignorance." Similarly, the scripture in Ephesians 4:18: "Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart".
Fortunately, we don't have to learn everything in mortality; since we are "born into conditions of mortality, repentance comes to mean a turning of the heart and will to God, and a renunciation of the sin to which we are naturally inclined" (Bible Dictionary). This repentance is not optional.
In direct response to a previous commenter, yes - we all do sin, and so yes, we all do need to repent. And until we are like our Heavenly Father, we need to turn to Him - through "religious" repentance, and by "seek[ing] learning by study, and also by faith" (Doctrine and Covenants 88:118). Original sin has nothing to do with it, nor do sins of omission. A failure to learn is an example of a sin of omission. We entered mortality, partly, because we didn't know everything our Heavenly Father did and we wanted to learn. The requirement to learn, and therefore, repent, does not only apply to errors we have made and want to correct. Repentance is much larger than that.
In my professor's response, he questioned whether running a mile and breaking down muscles so that they can be built up again could be classified as repentance. From either view of repentance, they can be. If one is living for God and striving to serve Him with all their might, mind, and strength, how can exercise not be part of learning to be like God? How can improving physically NOT be a part of His work? If one is exercising for selfish reasons or without an eye single to the glory of God, then yes, one is not repenting. But one also does not learn. If a person is not moving towards God, they are not discovering truth. Again, God is the source of all truth (interestingly, the devil the father of all lies or falsehoods); moving away from God is not learning.
From the perspective that any (true) learning is repentance, running also qualifies; I believe in an embodied, and perfectly embodied, God; physical learning brings my perspective closer to his in the same way that intellectual learning does - again, as long as I am uncovering truth.
Turning the heart and will to God is far more than simply saying one is sorry for every bad thing one does or has ever done. It is changing everything about ourselves to be more like our Heavenly Father. Hence, the enabling power of the Atonement: not only do we need the Christ's forgiveness and mediation, we also need His help to do anything. We need His help to improve. As Ammon stated, "Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things" (Alma 26:12).
One word in a comment stands out to me: sadistic. Someone called me sadistic for wanting to beat myself up about learning. Apart from the misuse of the word (masochistic would be more appropriate if I were beating myself up), and the misunderstanding concerning my intention (I was not beating myself up in the post at all, but objecting to institutionalized coercion), the emotional charge is clear and appropriate. I am preaching hard doctrine. Everything you do either brings you closer to God or takes you away from Him. There are decisions that we make upon which the Lord doesn't see fit to give us guidance: He doesn't direct me to buy a particular can of tuna, and most or all of the cans of tuna at store are probably acceptable choices. But I am accountable to Him even for that decision.
Nothing in life is free or unconnected to our spiritual growth. Not work, not recreation, not relaxation, not renewal, not sleep, not eating, not sex, not love. Not learning.
Luckily, just because things are connected to our relationship with God doesn't make them unpleasant. Generally speaking, quite the contrary. But that is another topic entirely.
As a side note, although I strongly disagreed with one of the responses I received, I am slightly surprised and rather pleased to find that I have a broader American audience. I knew that I had a few readers in Germany, Russia, Brussels, Israel, and other places around the world (thank you all, by the way); I didn't know the extent of the American response. It makes me glad to write - even if I disagree with someone, we can both learn ( :-) ) something from the exchange.
Several people have been surprised by my characterization of learning as repentance; some of these responses have been more coherent than others; I will respond to general thoughts, and let other arguments stand, or fall, as they may.
The Bible Dictionary in the LDS edition of the scriptures defines repentance as:
"Repentance. The Greek word of which this is the translation denotes a change of mind, i.e., a fresh view about God, about oneself, and about the world. Since we are born into conditions of mortality, repentance comes to mean a turning of the heart and will to God, and a renunciation of sin to which we are naturally inclined. Without this there can be no progress in the things of the soul’s salvation, for all accountable persons are stained by sin, and must be cleansed in order to enter the kingdom of heaven. Repentance is not optional for salvation; it is a commandment of God" (http://lds.org/scriptures/bd/repentance?lang=eng&letter=r)
Forming a fresh view about God, about oneself, and about the world is exactly what learning is. As someone studies chemistry, they form a fresh view of the world; as someone does math problems, as one of my detractors used as an example, one forms a fresh view of logic, or math, which is part of the world. In other words, any real learning is a portion of repentance. LDS doctrine teaches that God is the source of all truth. Thus, learning any truth is a means of coming closer to God. Joseph Smith taught that members of the Church should accept and act on all truth, from whatever source they could find it.
I suppose that one could learn something that is not true, and thus be deceived and not come closer to God; learning falsehood is not repentance. But with the positive connotations associated with learning, I believe that I can successfully call learning "discovering truth." If learning is a positive thing, it is repentance. Every good thing comes from God, from Christ.
One of the least coherent critiques I've received is the remark made by a commenter accusing me of not thinking of this is as a religious issue. On the contrary - my point is that EVERY instant of life is a religious issue, especially learning.
An important note here - some learning is more important, and brings us closer to God more powerfully, than others. A knowledge of the reality of the Atonement of Christ is necessary for our salvation and exaltation; a knowledge of particle physics is not. Or rather, is not initially; if we are to become like our Heavenly Father, a being who knows EVERYTHING, then yes, we do "come short of the glory of God" (Rom. 3:23) by virtue of our ignorance. This is a possible explanation for Joseph Smith's statement: "No man may be saved in ignorance." Similarly, the scripture in Ephesians 4:18: "Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart".
Fortunately, we don't have to learn everything in mortality; since we are "born into conditions of mortality, repentance comes to mean a turning of the heart and will to God, and a renunciation of the sin to which we are naturally inclined" (Bible Dictionary). This repentance is not optional.
In direct response to a previous commenter, yes - we all do sin, and so yes, we all do need to repent. And until we are like our Heavenly Father, we need to turn to Him - through "religious" repentance, and by "seek[ing] learning by study, and also by faith" (Doctrine and Covenants 88:118). Original sin has nothing to do with it, nor do sins of omission. A failure to learn is an example of a sin of omission. We entered mortality, partly, because we didn't know everything our Heavenly Father did and we wanted to learn. The requirement to learn, and therefore, repent, does not only apply to errors we have made and want to correct. Repentance is much larger than that.
In my professor's response, he questioned whether running a mile and breaking down muscles so that they can be built up again could be classified as repentance. From either view of repentance, they can be. If one is living for God and striving to serve Him with all their might, mind, and strength, how can exercise not be part of learning to be like God? How can improving physically NOT be a part of His work? If one is exercising for selfish reasons or without an eye single to the glory of God, then yes, one is not repenting. But one also does not learn. If a person is not moving towards God, they are not discovering truth. Again, God is the source of all truth (interestingly, the devil the father of all lies or falsehoods); moving away from God is not learning.
From the perspective that any (true) learning is repentance, running also qualifies; I believe in an embodied, and perfectly embodied, God; physical learning brings my perspective closer to his in the same way that intellectual learning does - again, as long as I am uncovering truth.
Turning the heart and will to God is far more than simply saying one is sorry for every bad thing one does or has ever done. It is changing everything about ourselves to be more like our Heavenly Father. Hence, the enabling power of the Atonement: not only do we need the Christ's forgiveness and mediation, we also need His help to do anything. We need His help to improve. As Ammon stated, "Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things" (Alma 26:12).
One word in a comment stands out to me: sadistic. Someone called me sadistic for wanting to beat myself up about learning. Apart from the misuse of the word (masochistic would be more appropriate if I were beating myself up), and the misunderstanding concerning my intention (I was not beating myself up in the post at all, but objecting to institutionalized coercion), the emotional charge is clear and appropriate. I am preaching hard doctrine. Everything you do either brings you closer to God or takes you away from Him. There are decisions that we make upon which the Lord doesn't see fit to give us guidance: He doesn't direct me to buy a particular can of tuna, and most or all of the cans of tuna at store are probably acceptable choices. But I am accountable to Him even for that decision.
Nothing in life is free or unconnected to our spiritual growth. Not work, not recreation, not relaxation, not renewal, not sleep, not eating, not sex, not love. Not learning.
Luckily, just because things are connected to our relationship with God doesn't make them unpleasant. Generally speaking, quite the contrary. But that is another topic entirely.
As a side note, although I strongly disagreed with one of the responses I received, I am slightly surprised and rather pleased to find that I have a broader American audience. I knew that I had a few readers in Germany, Russia, Brussels, Israel, and other places around the world (thank you all, by the way); I didn't know the extent of the American response. It makes me glad to write - even if I disagree with someone, we can both learn ( :-) ) something from the exchange.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
First emotions
Anger. Inexplicably, as my outdoor experience teacher was describing effective learning, all I felt was a rising displeasure. The man was dead-on in what he was describing. "Learning is meaningful if there is personal risk involved which puts us outside of our comfort zone, breaks down some of the lesser things about us, and allows us to rebuild ourselves in a better way." My professor was echoing a sentiment I've held for a long time - learning is repentance. Incidentally, I saw a video clip in a class the following day in which Hugh Nibley says almost exactly the same thing: to learn is to repent over and over again. I wasn't angry about someone sharing my opinion, or apparently having claimed it first.
The smile slid from my face, my posture straightened, and my brow went taut. Real education is repentance, that is true; but why was my professor claiming that as a goal of the course? Or as a particular insight of writing or outdoor survival?
True, writing and outdoor activities both push one outside of their comfort zone; true, both activities encourage an individual to reflect on their experiences and come to greater internal understanding. But repentance is between man and God; except in cases of specific need, no other individual should be involved. The effects of repentance ripple outward through social networks, but there is a reason prayer is usually private. Even in cases of excommunication, members of the Church are not required to describe their expulsion in gratuitous detail; an adulterer simply explains that he committed adultery, gives details necessary to gain help in the repentance process, and moves onward. The repentant sinner does not write a romance novel about their affair.
Again, back to my anger. Repentance certainly ought to be a goal of the course; it should be the goal of every teacher and student, in everything they learn and teach. But I do not trust my professor to provide me a repentance-environment, or to grade the risks I take in my writing. Creating a repentance environment sounds, to me, sadistic: mortality is our risk environment, and the only reason it works is that God is perfectly loving and does not inflict an iota upon us more than we have to go through or than we are able to bear. My professors are not as capable. Will I earn a better grade if I risk a limb? Or my life? Or my sanity?
Similarly, in writing: a professor may grade my ability to communicate, but not the degree to which I am willing to take risks. Whatever "risks" I take that are, truly, risks are the ones that either bring me closer to God or take me away from Him. The bleeding edge of my character construction ought to be revealed to God alone. Why should a professor expect to see my heart? Or, on the negative side: Why should a professor expect me to confess to him my sins? Anything less is not really a risk; rehashing principles already learned and appropriated hardly shakes my perspective.
Perhaps this is hypocritical of me - I certainly have shared attempts at repentance on this blog, along with some rather personal insights. I have used writing as a means to come to terms with some of the personal demons I face. I have been criticized, in the past, for sharing too much with my digital audience. The difference, however, lies in the fact that I have chosen what to share, without penalty. Sometimes, I have chosen to reveal myself for the benefit of my audience. Other times, I have not. As I understand this course, now I will be pressured, through grades, to do so regardless of my feelings on the matter.
I felt similarly pressured in my South Africa Prep course; written "sensitivity training" is just as abusive and loathsome as that practiced by fraternities. I do not care to what institution someone belongs: if they attempt to coerce me to divulge the things of my soul, I will respond to their assault on my individuality with every means at my disposal. In practice, my deepest loathings - which have required the most difficult repentance -have been reserved for people and organizations that make the attempt. I cannot imagine a more effective means of earning my steadfast enmity.
So of course I was angry. My professor described an institutionalized attempt to gain access to my sanctum sanctorum without earning the right to be there.
I could simply leave the class. But I agree that learning requires risk, so here is the risk I am going to take: I will send this post to my professor. I will challenge the notion that degree of risk-taking in writing, that repentance in writing, is something that ought to be graded. I will give the professor the opportunity to respond. There is little risk to my character; I risk only my participation in the class. As a result, I learn only a few things about myself- namely, that I won't stand for this kind of nonsense again. But I will learn, and give the professor the opportunity to learn, how he will respond to my concerns.
A note of caution - I had to leave the essay writing half of the class a few minutes early, and perhaps I have misunderstood the purpose of the course. Perhaps risk taking in writing is only encouraged, not required. If so, then I will again look forward to the experience. This class is one of the first two I picked out of the catalog when I came to BYU; the course description influenced my decision to join the Honors program, and I've been working for three years to get into it. Even so, my privacy is worth more than my pleasure. If I have to drop the class...
So be it.
The smile slid from my face, my posture straightened, and my brow went taut. Real education is repentance, that is true; but why was my professor claiming that as a goal of the course? Or as a particular insight of writing or outdoor survival?
True, writing and outdoor activities both push one outside of their comfort zone; true, both activities encourage an individual to reflect on their experiences and come to greater internal understanding. But repentance is between man and God; except in cases of specific need, no other individual should be involved. The effects of repentance ripple outward through social networks, but there is a reason prayer is usually private. Even in cases of excommunication, members of the Church are not required to describe their expulsion in gratuitous detail; an adulterer simply explains that he committed adultery, gives details necessary to gain help in the repentance process, and moves onward. The repentant sinner does not write a romance novel about their affair.
Again, back to my anger. Repentance certainly ought to be a goal of the course; it should be the goal of every teacher and student, in everything they learn and teach. But I do not trust my professor to provide me a repentance-environment, or to grade the risks I take in my writing. Creating a repentance environment sounds, to me, sadistic: mortality is our risk environment, and the only reason it works is that God is perfectly loving and does not inflict an iota upon us more than we have to go through or than we are able to bear. My professors are not as capable. Will I earn a better grade if I risk a limb? Or my life? Or my sanity?
Similarly, in writing: a professor may grade my ability to communicate, but not the degree to which I am willing to take risks. Whatever "risks" I take that are, truly, risks are the ones that either bring me closer to God or take me away from Him. The bleeding edge of my character construction ought to be revealed to God alone. Why should a professor expect to see my heart? Or, on the negative side: Why should a professor expect me to confess to him my sins? Anything less is not really a risk; rehashing principles already learned and appropriated hardly shakes my perspective.
Perhaps this is hypocritical of me - I certainly have shared attempts at repentance on this blog, along with some rather personal insights. I have used writing as a means to come to terms with some of the personal demons I face. I have been criticized, in the past, for sharing too much with my digital audience. The difference, however, lies in the fact that I have chosen what to share, without penalty. Sometimes, I have chosen to reveal myself for the benefit of my audience. Other times, I have not. As I understand this course, now I will be pressured, through grades, to do so regardless of my feelings on the matter.
I felt similarly pressured in my South Africa Prep course; written "sensitivity training" is just as abusive and loathsome as that practiced by fraternities. I do not care to what institution someone belongs: if they attempt to coerce me to divulge the things of my soul, I will respond to their assault on my individuality with every means at my disposal. In practice, my deepest loathings - which have required the most difficult repentance -have been reserved for people and organizations that make the attempt. I cannot imagine a more effective means of earning my steadfast enmity.
So of course I was angry. My professor described an institutionalized attempt to gain access to my sanctum sanctorum without earning the right to be there.
I could simply leave the class. But I agree that learning requires risk, so here is the risk I am going to take: I will send this post to my professor. I will challenge the notion that degree of risk-taking in writing, that repentance in writing, is something that ought to be graded. I will give the professor the opportunity to respond. There is little risk to my character; I risk only my participation in the class. As a result, I learn only a few things about myself- namely, that I won't stand for this kind of nonsense again. But I will learn, and give the professor the opportunity to learn, how he will respond to my concerns.
A note of caution - I had to leave the essay writing half of the class a few minutes early, and perhaps I have misunderstood the purpose of the course. Perhaps risk taking in writing is only encouraged, not required. If so, then I will again look forward to the experience. This class is one of the first two I picked out of the catalog when I came to BYU; the course description influenced my decision to join the Honors program, and I've been working for three years to get into it. Even so, my privacy is worth more than my pleasure. If I have to drop the class...
So be it.
Friday, December 31, 2010
New Year's Resolutions
Happy New Year's, everyone!
This is a short post, so I'll get right to the point:
1.) Read at least one book (for pleasure) a month. This is raising the bar, but will be most beneficial.
2.) Write one page a week on at least one of my extracurricular writing projects. This was a goal before, but I got bogged down in outlines. The stories I had all needed planning and research. I have some ideas now that will let me just write to practice my prose. Worst case scenario, I have 52 pages written by the end of the year.
3.) Never kiss until the fourth date or until the two of us have decided to date exclusively, whichever comes later.
4.) Finish all necessary dental work. After two-and-a-half years, that will be a welcome relief.
5.) Graduate with Honors. That only leaves an honors thesis and about twenty Great Works events, and fourteen responses, to go.
6.) Get out of the USA. England, China, Japan, Taiwan, Nepal, somewhere - I need to go.
This past year was an interesting one. It included many trials, some of them self-inflicted. All of them have flowed on by. I grew up in and around rivers, and I'm reading several books using rivers as a theme (Nine Ways To Cross a River, New Found Land); I find the idea of life as flowing water an apt metaphor. I've had successes, and those have flowed past, leaving me enriched and edified. I've made mistakes, and those too have flowed by.
This is a short post, so I'll get right to the point:
1.) Read at least one book (for pleasure) a month. This is raising the bar, but will be most beneficial.
2.) Write one page a week on at least one of my extracurricular writing projects. This was a goal before, but I got bogged down in outlines. The stories I had all needed planning and research. I have some ideas now that will let me just write to practice my prose. Worst case scenario, I have 52 pages written by the end of the year.
3.) Never kiss until the fourth date or until the two of us have decided to date exclusively, whichever comes later.
4.) Finish all necessary dental work. After two-and-a-half years, that will be a welcome relief.
5.) Graduate with Honors. That only leaves an honors thesis and about twenty Great Works events, and fourteen responses, to go.
6.) Get out of the USA. England, China, Japan, Taiwan, Nepal, somewhere - I need to go.
This past year was an interesting one. It included many trials, some of them self-inflicted. All of them have flowed on by. I grew up in and around rivers, and I'm reading several books using rivers as a theme (Nine Ways To Cross a River, New Found Land); I find the idea of life as flowing water an apt metaphor. I've had successes, and those have flowed past, leaving me enriched and edified. I've made mistakes, and those too have flowed by.
Changing metaphors:
"And shades of night are falling dense and fast, like sable curtains drifting o'er the past. Pale through the gloom the newly fallen snow wraps like a shroud the silent earth below - as tho 'twere mercy's hand had spread the pall: a token of forgiveness unto all" ("The Wintry Day Descending to Its Close," Hymns no. 37).
"And shades of night are falling dense and fast, like sable curtains drifting o'er the past. Pale through the gloom the newly fallen snow wraps like a shroud the silent earth below - as tho 'twere mercy's hand had spread the pall: a token of forgiveness unto all" ("The Wintry Day Descending to Its Close," Hymns no. 37).
And so, I continue my course. Upstream, I think; I am not sure I know how to steer with the current.
Anyway, Happy New Year's! I hope your holidays have been refreshing and edifying for you, and that you have the strength for the New Year.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Summation
As a writing warm up, before six hours of sleepless writing work, I present this summation of my semester and year.
"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Though preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever." (Psalm 23:4-6)
This year has been, hands down, the hardest of my life. In ways I did not before believe possible, I have literally walked through the valley of the shadow of death. In every instant of those trials, the Lord has sought to help me, has blessed my way, prospered me, and defended me. As I have tried to turn to Him, He has blessed me a hundredfold and more - primarily in blessings I needed, but did not want to receive.
I feel like I am in a sort of personal, ongoing resurrection, where parts of me wither away and die, and then are restored more fully by the Lord. I think death must be that way when we pass according to the Lord's plan: a painful letting go of mortality in preparation for the Savior to renew us into perfect life, but then a sweet realization that it's alright, this is part of the plan, God loves me, and this too will turn to good.
This year has been one of letting go and being reborn. I am no longer an International Relations major, no longer intend to go to Indonesia for the next nine months, no longer have climbing the Seven Summits as a goal, no longer am the man I was before. Now. I openly study sociology, hope to go to England and China, and see new interdependence in my goals and plans. Now, especially, I better understand how much I need the Lord in everything I do - to breathe, to sing, to sleep, to eat, to be happy, to repent.
I have not yet left this "valley of sorrow" (2 Ne. 4:26), but I can see the trail leading upwards ahead, and this nighttime journey is drawing to a close. It has been a dark trail, but even so, "Eternity was [my] covering, and [my] rock and [my] salvation, as [I] journeyed" this year, and now the dawn of a new Sabbath is beginning to tint the Eastern sky.
"We have also a more sure word of prophecy; whereunto ye do well that ye take heed, as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day star arise in your hearts" (2 Pet. 1:19).
Even though I haven't yet reached the surpassing joy that I hope will become my daily walk, I have tasted it, and I feel it in Christ as I serve Him and pray in His name to my Heavenly Father. I am greatly comforted by the Book of Mormon passage below, in which a man of God follows Christ through the valley of shadow until the day dawns.
"And it came to pass that as I followed Him, I beheld myself that I was in a dark and dreary waste. And after I had traveled for the space of many hours in darkness, I began to pray unto the Lord that He would have mercy upon me, according to the multitude of His tender mercies. And it came to pass that after I had prayed unto the Lord, ... I beheld a tree whose fruit was desirable to make one happy" (1 Ne. 8:7-10)
"And the angel said unto me: Behold the Lamb of God, even the Son of the Eternal Father! Knowest thou the meaning of the tree...? And I answered him saying, Yea, it is the love of God, which sheddeth itself abroad in the hearts of the children of men; wherefore, it is the most desirable above all things. And he spake unto me saying: Yea, and the most joyous to the soul" (1 Ne. 11:21-23)
And so, Merry Christmas - my God is my strength and my song, and He also has become my salvation (1 Ne. 22:11, Isaiah 12). This year, I have seen the arm of the Lord revealed in my life through the trials He has given me ands His help in them.
And so, in summation: I know that my Redeemer lives, that his name is Jesus Christ, that He loves me and that He is my Friend, and that He will support me as I follow Him, in every circumstance and emergency.
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