Week Seven - Brother Butler

What is so hard about life?
If we were to take a poll about the most difficult aspects of life, what would the top five answers be?
Would a disciple of Christ, a rescuer, answer differently than someone who is not yet?

My Jenny has a game we used to play after we were first married called the "Journal Game."  It is not the most exciting game in the world,
but it is one we really liked to do before we had children to fill our time.
The rules are simple.
You call out a date--any date--and the other person has to read their journal entry from that day.
My favorite entries from my missionary journals were experiences that I had that concluded with the line:
"This is an experience I will never forget."
Ironically, the entry is always a reminder of an experience I had most definitely forgotten.
This happened a lot for me.
However, there was one experience I had that I can remember as clear as if it were this morning.

I had been learning Korean Sign Language from a deaf member in a ward in Seoul.
The lessons were a great, and I can remember a point when I was starting to feel confident I could hold a gospel centered conversation with a deaf individual while out tracting.
I began to look for deaf people in the subways, trains, streets, etc that I could share the gospel message with.
The very first person I saw who was deaf was in a subway station by the church.
I was so elated to go strike up a conversation with her.
I approached her and started to introduce myself in sign when she noticed my tag and immediately turned cold and unfriendly and then walked briskly away from me.
I had been rejected plenty of times, but for some reason this one cut deep.
I stood, rejected, in the busy subway station while thoughts flashed through my mind as quickly as the busy commuters passing by.
I went from sad, to frustrated, to dejected, to optimistic, to overwhelmed, to deflated, then back to optimistic I am sure.
For the first time I can remember, I was hurt because of Who I represented and what I was trying to do.
I wanted to stop the lady and plead with her to treat me like another person.  I wondered if we would get along or what we would have in common if we met in different circumstances.
I wanted her to know that what I was doing was for her.
I left home for her.
I ate squid for her.
I learned Korean for her.
I learned Korean sign language for her.
I woke up at 6:00 am for her.
I slept without a/c for her.
I was standing in a crowded subway station for her.

Then my heart turned to the prophets.
All throughout time prophets have been rejected, mocked, beaten, killed, and everything in between.
I realized they are people.  I felt for them.  I wondered if they had similar thoughts to what I was having.
I wondered if they wanted to yell out sometime--I am doing this for you!

As I study the lives of devoted disciples of Christ, I realize that many of their recorded heartaches could have been avoided.
Lehi, Alma, Amulek, Peter, Paul, Mormon, Moroni, Stephen, and Abinadi all could have lived more comfortable lives.
Some of their greatest hardships seemed to come because they put themselves out their to rescue another.
Their tears were often shed for others--others who perhaps never even knew it.

Rescuing brings heartache.  Rescuing brings knee aches.  Rescuing brings elbow, and head, and feet aches.
What extent are we willing to go to rescue another--to invite them to come unto Christ?
What price will we pay to merely invite a soul to change their ways?
How long will we pray, and reach, and speak, and pray, and love, and invite, and ponder, and pray, and cry, and yearn?
How much is too much to give for another?
Is it a different price for our own child, grandmother, neighbor, stranger, enemy?

The road of rescue is often a lonely and trying road.  A road less traveled because of its obstacles.

Walking this thorny path is evidence of the fiercest type of discipleship.
The Rescuer chose the hard road for us.
The Savior's darkest hours came during His hours of rescue.  His brightest hours came, and come, because of His hours of rescue.
Can we expect our own experiences to be different?

Consider doing the following:
Read Mosiah 26:26-30
Look up words like mock and reject in the scriptures and consider the hardships of disciples of Christ because of their choice to try to help another.
If there is something you are not doing because of the pain it might bring you, pray for strength, and do it.  You will have good company as you do so.

Thoughts from President Hinckley...

I take you back to the general conference of October 1856. On Saturday of that conference Franklin D. Richards and a handful of associates arrived in the valley. They had traveled from Winter Quarters with strong teams and light wagons and had been able to make good time. Brother Richards immediately sought out President Young. He reported that there were hundreds of men, women, and children scattered over the long trail from Scottsbluff to this valley. Most of them were pulling handcarts. They were accompanied by two wagon trains which had been assigned to assist them. They had reached the area of the last crossing of the North Platte River. Ahead of them lay a trail that was uphill all the way to the Continental Divide with many, many miles beyond that. They were in desperate trouble. Winter had come early. Snow-laden winds were howling across the highlands of what is now western Nebraska and Wyoming. Our people were hungry, their carts and their wagons were breaking down, their oxen dying. The people themselves were dying. All of them would perish unless they were rescued.

I think President Young did not sleep that night. I think visions of those destitute, freezing, dying people paraded through his mind.

The next morning he came to the old Tabernacle which stood on this square. He said to the people:

“I will now give this people the subject and the text for the Elders who may speak. … It is this. … Many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains with handcarts, and probably many are now seven hundred miles from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to them. The text will be, ‘to get them here.’

“That is my religion; that is the dictation of the Holy Ghost that I possess. It is to save the people.

“I shall call upon the Bishops this day. I shall not wait until tomorrow, nor until the next day, for 60 good mule teams and 12 or 15 wagons. I do not want to send oxen. I want good horses and mules. They are in this Territory, and we must have them. Also 12 tons of flour and 40 good teamsters, besides those that drive the teams.

“I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the Celestial Kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains” (in LeRoy R. Hafen and Ann W. Hafen, Handcarts to Zion [1960], 120–21).

That afternoon food, bedding, and clothing in great quantities were assembled by the women.

The next morning, horses were shod and wagons were repaired and loaded.

The following morning, Tuesday, 16 mule teams pulled out and headed eastward. By the end of October there were 250 teams on the road to give relief.

Wonderful sermons have been preached from this pulpit, my brethren and sisters. But none has been more eloquent than that spoken by President Young in those circumstances.

Stories of the beleaguered Saints and of their suffering and death will be repeated again and again next year. Stories of their rescue need to be repeated again and again. They speak of the very essence of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I am grateful that those days of pioneering are behind us. I am thankful that we do not have brethren and sisters stranded in the snow, freezing and dying, while trying to get to this, their Zion in the mountains. But there are people, not a few, whose circumstances are desperate and who cry out for help and relief.

There are so many who are hungry and destitute across this world who need help. I am grateful to be able to say that we are assisting many who are not of our faith but whose needs are serious and whom we have the resources to help. But we need not go so far afield. We have some of our own who cry out in pain and suffering and loneliness and fear. Ours is a great and solemn duty to reach out and help them, to lift them, to feed them if they are hungry, to nurture their spirits if they thirst for truth and righteousness.

There are so many young people who wander aimlessly and walk the tragic trail of drugs, gangs, immorality, and the whole brood of ills that accompany these things. There are widows who long for friendly voices and that spirit of anxious concern which speaks of love. There are those who were once warm in the faith, but whose faith has grown cold. Many of them wish to come back but do not know quite how to do it. They need friendly hands reaching out to them. With a little effort, many of them can be brought back to feast again at the table of the Lord.

My brethren and sisters, I would hope, I would pray, that each of us, having participated in this great conference, would resolve to seek those who need help, who are in desperate and difficult circumstances, and lift them in the spirit of love into the embrace of the Church, where strong hands and loving hearts will warm them, comfort them, sustain them, and put them on the way of happy and productive lives.

 October 1996 Addresses/Reach With a Rescuing Hand

Week Five/Six

Our morning began at four thirty, with a letter fresh from Serbia waiting to be read.  Knowing I would be writing today, my mind was already spinning with thoughts of rescue.  I read of missionary efforts, of sacrifice, of hope and testimony, and I thought of my first born son, thousands of miles away, focusing his efforts on rescuing those who long to know the Lord.

Morning again at six thirty.  This time it is my second son, sleeping in the basement, who had asked for a wake up call. ”You get him,” I beg Greg, “I am too tired.”  I hear feet solid, treading down the stairs.  Voices whisper.  Sheets rustle.  It isn’t too long before I hear the voices getting louder and then Greg calling my name.  Still my thoughts spin of rescue.

I run down the stairs to see Greg holding Josh in his arms.  He is not well.  Suffering from hypoglycemia spurred by too much insulin, he lays restless in Greg’s arms.  Sugar filled paraphernalia litters the table next to Josh’s bed ––oreo’s, Capri sun, Gatorade.  Still, with all that sugar, something is not right.  I look closely and notice the left side of his face is sagging, left arm paralyzed into an unnatural grip, left leg hanging useless at his side.  Yes, something is wrong.

I run upstairs and google “hypoglycemia temporary paralysis,” praying, please let this be temporary.  To my relief pages and pages appear with clear instructions, do not leave his side, increase sugar intake, watch for cognitive ability to come back.  And still, my thoughts spin with rescue.  So father holds son still, and mother gives sustenance, seeks insight, and prays.   In the midst of it all a kind neighbor is rudely interrupted from his morning shower.  

At 7:15 this morning, worthy hands are called upon to anoint Josh’s head.  A blessing promises recovery from what currently holds Josh hostage.  And now we wait, mother and father watching as Josh sleeps restlessly.

And still my mind spins with thoughts of rescue.

What if we had not gotten there in time?  What if I hadn’t set that alarm?  What if no one had been there to offer the sustenance his body was desperately in need of?  What if the rescue had been too late?

I am filled with mother love, aching for a child in need.  Grateful for the priesthood, for a father who was there in time, for a neighbor who dropped everything to answer a cry for help.

It doesn’t take long before thoughts are heaven bound, and I think of One filled with Father Love, who aches for His children in need.  How grateful He must be for Priesthood ordinances and covenants shared and kept, for servants who are there in time, for followers who drop everything to answer a cry for help.

Tonight my prayer is simple ––this week let my thoughts be filled with rescue, to answer each cry for help… and let me get there in time.

Week Three/Four

It began with an idea.
Can I gather some wood and make a fire down on the beach by the water?

And so, as twilight falls the gathering begins.

Small dry branches for kindling, larger logs for sustaining the flame.  There is searching, and sawing, and armfuls of dry branches.  First one, then another, asks the lone gatherer, "what are you building?"  


His enthusiasm is contagious.

Now there are two.

Soon dry branches and logs stacked one upon another have caught the attention of everyone in the camp.  Excitement builds.

What it is you are building?
Can we come?
Don't light the fire until we are all there!  

Suddenly the focus has shifted from dry branches to longing hearts seeking for warmth.  Little ones are gathered in arms, families watch together, as a tiny flame flickers and dances next to the waiting wood.  In an instant, from the darkness, there is light.

Here there is warmth.  

Within the gathering, safety.  

Each rescued from the darkness.  

Focused now on the light.

Life has taught me that every rescue must begin as an idea.

  

One heart softened, seeking to bring light to a dark place.  It begins with the searching ––for to kindle a fire one must first gather the wood.  Then, the invitation.  Here there is safety.  Here there is warmth.  Here there is light.

I am certain, at this very moment, there is one who is lonely.  Not too far from here, there is one who waits in darkness.  A life filled with doubt or discouragement.  A soul seeking direction.  Within your circle of influence there is, perhaps, one yearning to be gathered into the safety of your arms, or maybe just the safety of your heart.  

You may not be aware of just who it is that needs your love.  But the Lord is.  He is able to speak to those who approach Him on bended knee, with a willing heart.  What He asks might not be easy.  More often than not a rescue requires work ––gathering, searching, building.  It always requires your heart.

But from a tiny flame, the Lord is capable of creating great light.

His light rescues from the darkness.

"Who is among you...that walketh in darkness, and hath no light?  

let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God."  

(Isaiah 50:10)  

Somewhere within your circle of influence there is a longing heart seeking for warmth.

Ask the Lord for direction.  Open your heart to receive inspiration.  

Then, be willing to extend the invitation that will lead to a rescue.

Here there is warmth.  

Within the gathering, safety.  

Come out from the darkness.  

Focus now on The Light.