Me and blood. Not a good mix.
Case One. For my pre-mission health check I had to give a blood sample. It was only a teeny weeny bit of blood, but I went all queezy and faint.
Case Two. For my tour guiding exams I had to take a First Aid course. The instructor was only talking about a broken arm and my queezy, woozy, blood-drain-from-face feelings came rushing back, and I had to go to the back of the room and sit on the floor until I gained my composure again.
Needless to say I have not been asked to star in any of the Twilight movies, and Stephanie Myers seems to be avoiding me.
So, here I am happily bobbing along through life when I receive the announcement that this year's national project for Mormon Helping Hands is for everyone to give blood. Huh! Blood! Me! Hold on, let me sit down for a bit. Ok...I'm fine... deep breaths... focus on ice cream. Phew, that's better.
One of my church callings is Public Affairs which means I had to encourage everyone to participate. Putting on the brave face, I boldly sign up. I convince myself that years have passed, and I'm a different, more mature man now. I've had six children who have toughened me up. I mean how difficult can it be, tis only a pint of blood. Thousands of people do it again and again. No problem.
This is how the day went.
The Blood Donor
The grand day arrives. Forms filled out. Medical interview done. Dead proud of myself that I'm not even wishing the nurse will declare "Sorry, you can't give blood due to bookselling being such a high risk occupation." I feel confident I can do this. So I quietly sit on my chair thinking of shoe polish, Bulgarian economics and the recent down trend of bee populations. My musings are interrupted by a cold, wispy voice,
"Next victim"
I can see the evil glint in the nurse's eyes as she stares into my soul. I'm sure her name was Victoria. She obviously had a troubled childhood and takes delight in stabbing people with large needles. But, recognising my steely resolve, she hands me over to a male nurse. She called him a nurse, but I could see through the whole charade and sensed his depraved blood sucking tendencies. He didn't speak much, but I knew that was only so he could hide his fangs. He forces me onto the bed, stabs me, and hooks me into the life extraction machine. No compassion. No mercy.
I'm doing it. I'm giving blood. They must have taken 6 pints out of me already and only 5 seconds have passed. I don't have long to live. I should have gathered my children around me this morning and told them I love them. I hope they remember me as a good father.
Focus. Focus. I'm not fainting; I'm doing it. Look at the light fittings. Examine the coving. No queeziness. Look at the hooks in the ceiling - those must be for hanging decorations. They haven't put them in straight. I shall have to address this issue to their parish council. I must be at the 20 pint mark by now. Just seconds left before they suck me dry. Tell my wife I love her...
Uhhh oh.
That feeling is coming. Stomach feeling tense. Blood draining from my face. Feeling ... not good. Something about me caught the attention of one of the nurses (it could have been my ablino face colour, the contorted facial expression, the gasps for air...). Suddenly I'm surrounded by medical folk. High alert. A flurry of activity. They whip the tubes out of my arm and take my 32 pints of blood away. They raise my feet. Put a wet cloth on my forehead. Make me drink and drink. Tell me to tense my buttocks (huh?). I'm sure the paramedics are on alert in the corridor. The emergency helicpoter is on its way. The newspaper's obituary section is put on standby.
Gradually, calm is restored. And my life is saved. 'Victoria' tries to console me in my aborted blood donation. "We had to stop the donation, but we took about 200 ml." How can she lie so well? She didn't even bat an eyelid. I saw them taking the barrels of my blood out, so I know the truth.
The aftermath
Now when I see news reports of an accident or a sickly child or an operation I can't help but think they will be using my blood. They will, of course, only be using my blood for the most imporant medical cases. OK... even if it was only 200 ml, I might not have saved a whole person, but at least I can say I saved someone's toes.
I have not heard yet when the medal ceremony is taking place. It shall be a wonderful occasion with brass bands, streamers and large cheering crowds. I would not be surprised if royalty are pulled in to present me with my medal.
All in a day's work.
Tuesday, 6 July 2010
Friday, 25 June 2010
From World Cups to War Memorials
My sister in law shared a funny statement today about the World Cup:
"This is just like World Ward Two all over again. The French surrendered early, the Americans came through at the last minute and England are left to fight the Germans!"Talking of war.... (nice transition!) ...
A couple of weeks ago I visited Port Sunlight for the very first time. Port Sunlight is a model community built by Lord Leverhulme the founder of Sunlight Soap. This community is well worth a visit if you get a chance to pass by that way. A nice heritage centre, a stunning art gallery, and...the reason for this post... a moving war memorial.
Port Sunlight War Memorial
"In memory of our God, our religion, and freedom, and our peace, our wives, and our children." Alma 46:12
Monday, 21 June 2010
Father's blessings...
On Sunday, amidst the celebration of Dads on Father's day, priesthood blessings were mentioned and it reminded me of a tender moment with my son Jacob and Luke. We have a family tradition that on the first day back to school all the children have a father's blessing as they start their new school year. All the other children sit quietly and listen to each blessing. It is one of those quiet, gentle moments (we don't see many quiet moments in our house ... which makes them all the more special).
It was Jacob's very first year at school and I gave him his blessing. When I finished he looked up and said "Can we do that again?"
Luke was watching (he had started back to school the day before, so had already had his blessing) and he chirped in "Can I have another one?"
I hope as they grow, become teens and stretch their wings those two boys will continue to recognise those sweet, simple promptings. I, like most parents, will be anxiously hoping and praying that they will always be wanting to have those experiences again and again.
It was Jacob's very first year at school and I gave him his blessing. When I finished he looked up and said "Can we do that again?"
Luke was watching (he had started back to school the day before, so had already had his blessing) and he chirped in "Can I have another one?"
I hope as they grow, become teens and stretch their wings those two boys will continue to recognise those sweet, simple promptings. I, like most parents, will be anxiously hoping and praying that they will always be wanting to have those experiences again and again.
Monday, 14 June 2010
Smoke Bombs in Nauvoo, Kirtland and Canterbury
Smoke bombs
If you want to disorientate an enemy may I recommend a smoke screen. When a smoke bomb is thrown into a battle its main aim is to confuse you. You lose sight of your goal. You become disorientated.
I want to share three examples from Church history where smoke screens caused some to lose their spiritual eyes.
Kirtland
A Brand new temple of the Lord had been built. Amazing spiritual experiences followed. The Saviour appeared, along with Moses, Elias and others. Keys are restored. Hearts are healed.
Then the rot sets in. Things were not going the way some people thought they should. There were disagreements over leadership, and over financial concerns.
At one court case over 40 bore false witness against Joseph – yet he was acquitted. Even some of the apostles, (Thomas Marsh, Orson Hyde) started murmuring / accusing. They took action against the church and their signed statement led to the Battle of the Crooked River in which apostle David Patten is murdered.
Then Colonel George Hinkel (a Mormon) betrayed Joseph & other church leaders who are put in Liberty Jail for months.
Despite the opposition there were the faithful who saw through the smoke clouds and could see the restored gospel for what it was. The battles and accusations and apostasy, church leaders in jail – were all smoke screens. The church was still true and the faithful members knew that… and kept faithfully serving even though the odds seemed against them.
Nauvoo
The same thing happens. A beautiful city rose from the swamp. Another beautiful temple was built. Marvellous spiritual experiences followed.
And then the rot sets in. Once again the discouraged and disgruntled members cause the city to fall. Apostates like Samuel Bennett, William Law, the Higbees etc. started murmuring. It was their words that fired up the non-mormons to action.
The smoke screen of murders, of violence, of unjustice, and gossip, made many fall. But, still the faithful could see through the murkiness. They stayed true, and made the trek west.
Early church days in Britain…
My parents met for Sunday meetings in a very basic Football Supporters Club in Canterbury. They had to sweep the empty beer cans and cigarette ends from the floor to make the room acceptable for worship. Similar scenes would be repeated around the country in grim rented accommodation.
Some would come into those meeting places and see small branches of people, in shabby meeting rooms. For some it was just too much of a smokescreen. They would say “How can this be the restored gospel?” Just down the road they could step into a beautiful cathedral. Stunning stained glass, excellent choirs, established organisation, large congregations. They lost sight of what the restored gospel message really was, and fell away.
But others could see through the smokescreen. The size of the congregation was not relevant. The beauty of the building was not relevant. What was relevant was the purity of the message.
So….What’s my point?
We need to make sure smokescreens do not distract or tarnish our work.
We need to be the faithful who can see through the smoke clouds and see our service for what it is.
We are called upon to make an environment of love and support. We are called to serve in whatever capacity we are called upon. We are called to have a positive and loving attitude for every person, for every ordinance.
It matters not where I serve but how.
Whatever the number, whatever the assignment I must push away the smokescreens and see the joy of my calling, the privilege of service, the thrill of being engaged in this work.
A murmuring heart, and a negative voice have no place here. Even though the odds seem against us we have to create a haven, a refuge, and that is not possible if we perform our roles with a heavy heart.
A scripture to ponder…
I love what Joseph wrote in Liberty Jail recorded in section 122. I’d encourage you to read the whole section, but just a few phrases he shares are:
If you want to disorientate an enemy may I recommend a smoke screen. When a smoke bomb is thrown into a battle its main aim is to confuse you. You lose sight of your goal. You become disorientated.
I want to share three examples from Church history where smoke screens caused some to lose their spiritual eyes.
Kirtland
A Brand new temple of the Lord had been built. Amazing spiritual experiences followed. The Saviour appeared, along with Moses, Elias and others. Keys are restored. Hearts are healed.
Then the rot sets in. Things were not going the way some people thought they should. There were disagreements over leadership, and over financial concerns.
At one court case over 40 bore false witness against Joseph – yet he was acquitted. Even some of the apostles, (Thomas Marsh, Orson Hyde) started murmuring / accusing. They took action against the church and their signed statement led to the Battle of the Crooked River in which apostle David Patten is murdered.
Then Colonel George Hinkel (a Mormon) betrayed Joseph & other church leaders who are put in Liberty Jail for months.
Despite the opposition there were the faithful who saw through the smoke clouds and could see the restored gospel for what it was. The battles and accusations and apostasy, church leaders in jail – were all smoke screens. The church was still true and the faithful members knew that… and kept faithfully serving even though the odds seemed against them.
Nauvoo
The same thing happens. A beautiful city rose from the swamp. Another beautiful temple was built. Marvellous spiritual experiences followed.
And then the rot sets in. Once again the discouraged and disgruntled members cause the city to fall. Apostates like Samuel Bennett, William Law, the Higbees etc. started murmuring. It was their words that fired up the non-mormons to action.
The smoke screen of murders, of violence, of unjustice, and gossip, made many fall. But, still the faithful could see through the murkiness. They stayed true, and made the trek west.
Early church days in Britain…
My parents met for Sunday meetings in a very basic Football Supporters Club in Canterbury. They had to sweep the empty beer cans and cigarette ends from the floor to make the room acceptable for worship. Similar scenes would be repeated around the country in grim rented accommodation.
Some would come into those meeting places and see small branches of people, in shabby meeting rooms. For some it was just too much of a smokescreen. They would say “How can this be the restored gospel?” Just down the road they could step into a beautiful cathedral. Stunning stained glass, excellent choirs, established organisation, large congregations. They lost sight of what the restored gospel message really was, and fell away.
But others could see through the smokescreen. The size of the congregation was not relevant. The beauty of the building was not relevant. What was relevant was the purity of the message.
So….What’s my point?
We need to make sure smokescreens do not distract or tarnish our work.
We need to be the faithful who can see through the smoke clouds and see our service for what it is.
We are called upon to make an environment of love and support. We are called to serve in whatever capacity we are called upon. We are called to have a positive and loving attitude for every person, for every ordinance.
It matters not where I serve but how.
Whatever the number, whatever the assignment I must push away the smokescreens and see the joy of my calling, the privilege of service, the thrill of being engaged in this work.
A murmuring heart, and a negative voice have no place here. Even though the odds seem against us we have to create a haven, a refuge, and that is not possible if we perform our roles with a heavy heart.
A scripture to ponder…
I love what Joseph wrote in Liberty Jail recorded in section 122. I’d encourage you to read the whole section, but just a few phrases he shares are:
v. 5 If thou are called to pass through tribulation…
v. 6 If thou are accused with all manner of false accusations…
v. 7 If thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee…..if the very jaws of hell should gape open… all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good..There are no mobs, no murderers, no pits, no death sentences (not that I’m aware of anyway), but, all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.
Friday, 21 May 2010
Nosey people must not read this...
I recently had the chance to visit Oxford again and was reminded how frustrating I find that city. Don't get me wrong, I adore the place - its history and its architecture just hook me every time I visit, but a nosey person like me tends to feel thwarted and blocked at every corner. You see there are inviting doors and alleyways like these:
There is loads to explore, but the problem is too many of them say ghastly, horrible things like 'Private', or 'Closed to Visitors' or 'Residents only'.
Signs like that make it even worse for nosey folk like me. That just makes me want to discover even more.
I get a sense that the joy I get from seeing the external beauty of the place is just a mere scratch on the surface of what I could see if I could get behind closed doors. Can you imagine the paintings, the furniture, the stories, the gardens, all just sitting there waiting for me to meet them.
Maybe one day someone will phone me and announce that I have a key to the city of Oxford with the freedom to wander at will. No porters to stop me, no door I cannot walk through. Anyone? Anyone?
Oh well.
But luckily for me I do happen to have an insider who can get me access to some far better sights and sounds than an Oxford college or quadrangle. He has told me that "whoso knocketh, to him will he open". Although, I have to admit He does have some conditions.
All things considered I doubt I'll ever get behind the closed doors of Oxford. But... I have a bright hope and assurance that eternal doors are open to me if I just learn to do the appropriate knocking.
Oh well.
But luckily for me I do happen to have an insider who can get me access to some far better sights and sounds than an Oxford college or quadrangle. He has told me that "whoso knocketh, to him will he open". Although, I have to admit He does have some conditions.
and the wise , and the learned, and they that are rich, who are puffed up because of their learning, and their wisdom, and their riches - yea, they are they whom he despiseth; and save they shall cast these things away, and consider themselves fools before God, and come down in the depths of humility, he will not open unto them. (2 Nephi 9:42)Plus the good news is that my 'insider' is not exclusive to me. Sadly, if you are anything like me, you will find the natural man often forgets to knock. I'm often so busy looking at all the outside stuff I forget about the treasures waiting for me inside.
All things considered I doubt I'll ever get behind the closed doors of Oxford. But... I have a bright hope and assurance that eternal doors are open to me if I just learn to do the appropriate knocking.
Monday, 17 May 2010
To sin or not to sin....
My parents reminded me this evening of one of my strategic childhood ploys to escape punishment.
As a young boy my parents used to encourage good behaviour by pointing to a framed picture of the Saviour and reminding me that Jesus was watching me. My little brain registered that information, and when I'd done something naughty I went over to the picture frame and turned it round so Jesus could no longer watch me. There, problem solved. I could now do whatever I wanted.
The downside was my parents now had an instant bad behaviour alarm. As soon as they saw the turned picture they knew I'd been up to no good. I'm sure I could have got away with a lot more things if I'd caught on quicker.
As a young boy my parents used to encourage good behaviour by pointing to a framed picture of the Saviour and reminding me that Jesus was watching me. My little brain registered that information, and when I'd done something naughty I went over to the picture frame and turned it round so Jesus could no longer watch me. There, problem solved. I could now do whatever I wanted.
The downside was my parents now had an instant bad behaviour alarm. As soon as they saw the turned picture they knew I'd been up to no good. I'm sure I could have got away with a lot more things if I'd caught on quicker.
Monday, 10 May 2010
Father Christmas or Superman?
Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God." Corrie Ten Boom
My son Jacob is a constant source of entertainment for us. He was making his career choices a while ago.
"I want to be Sportacus, a dragon or Father Christmas" he declared.
Later on he decided he couldn't wear three costumes at once, so he was just going to be Santa.
I pointed out to him that this meant he would not get presents himself, but he was "okay" about that.
In his new upcoming role as seasonal gift giver he informed me that the reason they use reindeers is because the Elf cars break down. I did not know that. Amazing what you can learn from your little ones.
The day after these revelations he had obviously been giving other vocations some consideration since he came to us and said: "I don't want to be Superman."
"Why?"
"I don't want to be on TV."
I have no real preference as to which career path he finally chooses. I think being the father of Superman or Father Christmas is pretty cool. Not too keen on the dragon one, but if that is what he really wants to do...
His future employment is an unknown right now. His Choice to serve a mission, his choice to marry in the temple, his choice to stay faithful are all mysteries at this point in his young life. But, now, right now, I can teach him to trust and to love his Heavenly Father and Saviour and if he can grasp that I think he can take on anything (although I will insist he wears his underpants on the inside of his trousers).
Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God." Corrie Ten Boom
Saturday, 24 April 2010
Monday, 12 April 2010
Stripey Paper Clips
Have you ever had one of those moments when you suddenly realise you do some silly things?
Around ten years ago I purchased a nice stationery set. It had multiple compartments with pen, pencil, eraser, drawing pins, PLUS some brightly coloured, stripey paperclips. I liked those paperclips. They were fun. Happy. Trendy. (I bet you were unaware that paperclips had such a range of emotions & qualities.) I put them in my paperclip dispenser right next to the plain old metal ones.
Time ticked by.
Last year, a whole decade of my life having moved along, and I suddenly observed that I still had ALL of those stripey paperclips. Whenever I had to use a paperclip I'd see those stripey ones and make a judgement call that this piece of paper was just not good enough for them to be used on. They had to be saved for a special occasion. Then I began to think...
What is this grand document I'm waiting for that will warrant their use? What precious parchment, what valuable text, what sacred artefact would be worthy of being held together by a glorious stripey paperclip?Would the receiver of my paperclipped exhibit open the letter and on seeing the bright stripes instantly recognise that this was no ordinary epistle. Would there be a hush in the office as everyone gathered around to hear the words that had waited a whole decade to be voiced. Would it be gently placed under glass or framed so that this 'paperclip' moment would not be forgotten? I think not.
I decided then to let them go. Run. You're Free... (I have to admit I did feel a pang of regret for using them on just a regular bit of paper, but Bishop assured me that it was okay, and that maybe I was taking the steps of repentance too much to heart, and "my, look at the time, would love to stay and discuss it more, but must dash". Busy man that Bishop.)
Quirky? Odd? Weird? Inefficient? Ineffective? Uninspired? All of the above?
I feel pretty confident that there is no divine concern over whether I choose stripes or plain clips. There are, to my knowledge, no scriptures on the matter, and I've waited every General Conference for someone to address such a weighty issue as the proper use of a paperclip (you'd at least think they'd include it in Personal Progress or Duty to God).
The fact is... sometimes I do silly things. (My wife has the complete list available.)
The next fact is... I can change.
The next, next fact is... I'm a natural man trying his best to evolve into something more glorious and parts of me just take longer than others to catch up.
My final fact is... I still have one 'special' clip left. It is black and yellow. Very trendy. I would use it today if needed, but what if I have a really special letter I need to send in ten years time. Better hang on to it just in case. (Did I just ruin the whole analogy?)
Around ten years ago I purchased a nice stationery set. It had multiple compartments with pen, pencil, eraser, drawing pins, PLUS some brightly coloured, stripey paperclips. I liked those paperclips. They were fun. Happy. Trendy. (I bet you were unaware that paperclips had such a range of emotions & qualities.) I put them in my paperclip dispenser right next to the plain old metal ones.
Time ticked by.
Last year, a whole decade of my life having moved along, and I suddenly observed that I still had ALL of those stripey paperclips. Whenever I had to use a paperclip I'd see those stripey ones and make a judgement call that this piece of paper was just not good enough for them to be used on. They had to be saved for a special occasion. Then I began to think...
What is this grand document I'm waiting for that will warrant their use? What precious parchment, what valuable text, what sacred artefact would be worthy of being held together by a glorious stripey paperclip?Would the receiver of my paperclipped exhibit open the letter and on seeing the bright stripes instantly recognise that this was no ordinary epistle. Would there be a hush in the office as everyone gathered around to hear the words that had waited a whole decade to be voiced. Would it be gently placed under glass or framed so that this 'paperclip' moment would not be forgotten? I think not.
I decided then to let them go. Run. You're Free... (I have to admit I did feel a pang of regret for using them on just a regular bit of paper, but Bishop assured me that it was okay, and that maybe I was taking the steps of repentance too much to heart, and "my, look at the time, would love to stay and discuss it more, but must dash". Busy man that Bishop.)
Quirky? Odd? Weird? Inefficient? Ineffective? Uninspired? All of the above?
I feel pretty confident that there is no divine concern over whether I choose stripes or plain clips. There are, to my knowledge, no scriptures on the matter, and I've waited every General Conference for someone to address such a weighty issue as the proper use of a paperclip (you'd at least think they'd include it in Personal Progress or Duty to God).
The fact is... sometimes I do silly things. (My wife has the complete list available.)
The next fact is... I can change.
The next, next fact is... I'm a natural man trying his best to evolve into something more glorious and parts of me just take longer than others to catch up.
My final fact is... I still have one 'special' clip left. It is black and yellow. Very trendy. I would use it today if needed, but what if I have a really special letter I need to send in ten years time. Better hang on to it just in case. (Did I just ruin the whole analogy?)
Tuesday, 30 March 2010
Mutant child?
My five year old son Jacob can be an odd kettle of fish.
He has often stirred us from our sleep with some weird and wacky declarations. One morning we were greeted with: "Wouldn't it be cool if we had eyebrows on our cheeks and nose". Shortly after that we were dragged from our slumber with: "Where do Farms come from?"
Or how about this stunning observation:
But through the quirkiness, out of the murkiness comes a delightful little chap who somehow knows how to tug at heart strings. He makes us smile. We marvel at his creative streak. Give him scissors, selotape, a pile of recycling material, and a half eaten ham sandwich, and he will make you a one-of-a-kind work of art worth hanging over the mantlepiece (at least until the flies become too noisy). I love him.
I suspect my Heavenly Father views me with the same eyes. I guess I've got my own weird and wacky personality traits, an odd ball with puzzling questions, who makes Him smile. At least, I hope He smiles more than I make Him grimace or gaze with disbelief at my decisions and actions. But, despite my shortcomings, the real beauty of that whole relationship is that I know He's there and loves me.
He has often stirred us from our sleep with some weird and wacky declarations. One morning we were greeted with: "Wouldn't it be cool if we had eyebrows on our cheeks and nose". Shortly after that we were dragged from our slumber with: "Where do Farms come from?"
Or how about this stunning observation:
JACOB: How Old are You Dad?
ME: 45
JACOB: When I'm 45 my nipples will be 45 too.I don't know how long he lays there thinking about these things, but I do know I'm having trouble finding a good therapist who specialises in rehabilitating mutant children. I'm convinced his oddity comes from his mother's side (my wife has a different opinion, but I'm sure you don't want to hear about that).
But through the quirkiness, out of the murkiness comes a delightful little chap who somehow knows how to tug at heart strings. He makes us smile. We marvel at his creative streak. Give him scissors, selotape, a pile of recycling material, and a half eaten ham sandwich, and he will make you a one-of-a-kind work of art worth hanging over the mantlepiece (at least until the flies become too noisy). I love him.
I suspect my Heavenly Father views me with the same eyes. I guess I've got my own weird and wacky personality traits, an odd ball with puzzling questions, who makes Him smile. At least, I hope He smiles more than I make Him grimace or gaze with disbelief at my decisions and actions. But, despite my shortcomings, the real beauty of that whole relationship is that I know He's there and loves me.
Thursday, 28 January 2010
Walls of Stone
The following thoughts are taken from a talk I gave last Sunday. It summarises my reasons for starting this blog.
Place: Ancient America.
Time: 74BC
Moroni, a righteous Nephite leader, recognised the constant threat of attack. Besides arming his people with weapons of war he also prepared them with breastplates, arm shields, head shields, and thick clothing. This had a great impact on the attacking Lamanties for even though they outnumbered the Nephites, they were "Exceedingly afraid" to the point "that they durst not come against the Nephites." (Alma 43:18-22)
Over the next two years Moroni defeats the Lamanite army, contends with the wicked Amalickiah, erects the Title of Liberty, and restores peace. BUT... Moroni was well aware that wicked and cunning men do not rest. Amalickiah, or someone like him, would undoubtedly return to gain unrighteous power, so Moroni continued to prepare his people. He had been:
Even after this great victory "Moroni did not stop making preparations for war."
So....
What, you may ask, does all of that war stuff have to do with me? Consider this:
Like Moroni, we need to be actively preparing for spiritual conflict. We need to ask ourselves what fortifications are we building? We need to be making walls of stone. Fortifications that are solid, strong and immovable. Our homes should become a refuge against the cunning devices, the flattering words, and the fraud of evil men who seek to poison us by degrees (Alma 46:7, 10, 30; 47:18).
We should be "casting up walls round about and preparing places of resort" (Alma 52:6)
This blog is my simple attempt at helping me, & hopefully you, to create Walls of Stone around our homes and souls. There is something about that image of creating walls of stone that just gels with me. As I discover a new stone, be it a quote, a thought, a joke, a story, a burst of creativity, a somber moment, a quirky experience, or whatever, I aim to share it with you in the hope that as I build my wall I can help you build yours. As we build I encourage you to share your contributions & thoughts.
Happy Building
Place: Ancient America.
Time: 74BC
Moroni, a righteous Nephite leader, recognised the constant threat of attack. Besides arming his people with weapons of war he also prepared them with breastplates, arm shields, head shields, and thick clothing. This had a great impact on the attacking Lamanties for even though they outnumbered the Nephites, they were "Exceedingly afraid" to the point "that they durst not come against the Nephites." (Alma 43:18-22)
Over the next two years Moroni defeats the Lamanite army, contends with the wicked Amalickiah, erects the Title of Liberty, and restores peace. BUT... Moroni was well aware that wicked and cunning men do not rest. Amalickiah, or someone like him, would undoubtedly return to gain unrighteous power, so Moroni continued to prepare his people. He had been:
- "preparing the minds of the people to be faithful unto the Lord their God."
- "strengthening the armies of the Nephites"
- "erecting small forts"
- "throwing up banks of earth"
- "building walls of stone"
- Alma 48: 7-9
Even after this great victory "Moroni did not stop making preparations for war."
- He erected works of timber on tops of banks of earth.
- "caused towers to be erected"
- "did prepare strongholds..round about every city. "
- Alma 50: 1-6
So....
What, you may ask, does all of that war stuff have to do with me? Consider this:
"From the Book of Mormon we learn how disciples of Christ live in times of war." President Ezra Taft BensonAnd we truly are at war. It is a war being fought on many fronts, but never before have we been so bombarded with images and depictions of evil. To sit back and do nothing is not the way a disciple of Christ should act.
Like Moroni, we need to be actively preparing for spiritual conflict. We need to ask ourselves what fortifications are we building? We need to be making walls of stone. Fortifications that are solid, strong and immovable. Our homes should become a refuge against the cunning devices, the flattering words, and the fraud of evil men who seek to poison us by degrees (Alma 46:7, 10, 30; 47:18).
We should be "casting up walls round about and preparing places of resort" (Alma 52:6)
This blog is my simple attempt at helping me, & hopefully you, to create Walls of Stone around our homes and souls. There is something about that image of creating walls of stone that just gels with me. As I discover a new stone, be it a quote, a thought, a joke, a story, a burst of creativity, a somber moment, a quirky experience, or whatever, I aim to share it with you in the hope that as I build my wall I can help you build yours. As we build I encourage you to share your contributions & thoughts.
Happy Building
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