Standing Alone

Many years ago, when I was a Young Adult in the Church, Kathy, one of my LDS peers in our Branch in Minnesota, nicknamed me “Pious Pat.” She thought that I was overly zealous about things to do with the activities and the beliefs of the Church. Her intent with the nickname was an obvious put-down. She, on the other hand, maintained an aloof, cool, slightly mocking demeanor about anything to do with the Church. Clearly, in her view, I was so UNcool. At this same time, I had another LDS friend, Evelyn, who, while she didn’t make fun of me, seemed to view my enthusiasm as unbelievably naïve. Fortunately, during the same time, I also had other LDS associates who were as equally devoted to the Church as I was.

Both of these young ladies were regarded as “active” in the Church. But somehow, their devotion or dedication, in comparison to mine, was lukewarm, at best. Sometimes my enthusiasm was slightly dampened by their jaded and jaundiced view of me. Nevertheless, I continued to share my thoughts and feelings (testimony) about the Church (doctrines and beliefs) with them at every opportunity. I couldn’t help myself. I found everything about the gospel to be “a marvelous work and a wonder.” So much so, that I couldn’t keep quiet about it. Unfortunately, I can’t say that they were ever persuaded by anything that I ever said. Tragically, one of them eventually committed suicide a short time after her marriage, while the other one settled into a lifetime of inactivity.

More than forty years have passed. During that time, I have lived in eight different Stakes in seven different cities in four different states. In all those places, I have always found both kinds of LDS associates—those who shared my love of the gospel, as well as those who were only lukewarm. Ironically, in spite of being surrounded by others who cherish their own testimonies and commitment to the gospel, sometimes I have felt quite alone. Especially when those whom I have expected to share my values and viewpoint have turned away from me, as if to say, “aren’t you being just a little too  --  pious?”

Standing alone again and again over a span of forty years is lonely. And disheartening. Oh, to have the heart of Moroni! I fear that I have not had the strength, the courage, the fortitude of Moroni who really had to stand alone.

During General Conference time, though, I always feel comforted and not alone. As I watch Conference, I am thrilled at the visual proof that I am not alone. About 100,000 people assemble in the Conference Center during the five sessions of Conference each April and October. As the first session opens and the camera scans across the audience, I feel like I am standing next to Elisha of old, who is saying to me: Look! They that be with us are more than you thought: you definitely are not alone!

And during those two days of Conference, I feel that I truly am part of the “mountain” filled with angels and chariots of fire. I feel courageous and strong! I have the heart of Moroni.

Only four days to go!

Barking Dogs and Other Distractions

I am so glad that Conference time has come around again. It’s a time to get my bearings—check to see how far I may have drifted in the intervening 6 months. It’s so easy to get off course. That fraction of an inch off the mark today—an imperceptible deviation—may mean many miles off the mark in 6 months’ time.

Lately, I have thought of a 1984 Conference talk given by Bruce R. McConkie, of the Quorum of the Twelve, titled “The Caravan Moves On.” He began his talk with, “I propose some simple tests that all of us may take to determine if we are true to the faith….” He concluded his talk with:

Now, I have what every true disciple has. It is called the testimony of Jesus. In our day it includes the revealed knowledge that the earthly kingdom—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—will triumph. In this connection may I set before you this illustration:

The Church is like a great caravan—organized, prepared, following an appointed course, with its captains of tens and captains of hundreds all in place.

What does it matter if a few barking dogs snap at the heels of the weary travelers? Or that predators claim those few who fall by the way? The caravan moves on.

Is there a ravine to cross, a miry mud hole to pull through, a steep grade to climb? So be it. The oxen are strong and the teamsters wise. The caravan moves on.
Are there storms that rage along the way, floods that wash away the bridges, deserts to cross, and rivers to ford? Such is life in this fallen sphere. The caravan moves on.

Ahead is the celestial city, the eternal Zion of our God, where all who maintain their position in the caravan shall find food and drink and rest. Thank God that the caravan moves on!
The part about “barking dogs” has seemed an apt metaphor for the persecution of the Church and Church members recently, and has helped me to keep an optimistic perspective. It is true that “the earthly kingdom… will triumph.”

The “ravines, mud holes, steep grades to climb, storms, floods, deserts to cross,” etc. he mentioned are a perfect metaphor for the economic and other challenges of our day.

I think that part of the reason I enjoy Conference time so much is that I can actually see the Caravan and feel a sense of “moving on” with the Caravan. A short time after Conference, however, I have often struggled to maintain that feeling. I think that is because I have become distracted not only by life’s daily challenges, but also by trivial distractions (like internet stuff). Anything that distracts me from keeping my eye on “the celestial city” or maintaining my position in the caravan, is a distraction that serves Satan’s purposes.

As Michael Medved’s wife put it, referring to her feelings about certain “internet stuff”: ‘In fact, I’m finding it more and more irritating, a time-soaker that leaves me feeling slightly soiled, in need of a shower. … not only a colossal waste of time, but actually lowers me morally…. It’s about training your own soul away from the transcendent and the long-term, and toward physical here-and-now selfishness.’

The way she puts it, the “benign” distractions found on the internet may be worse and more dangerous than the barking dogs. She’s probably right