Bound and Chained

In the Book of Mormon there is a story of a prophet named Abinadi. Abinadi brought the gospel of Christ to the people of King Noah. Instead of rejoicing at this message, the people rejected it. Abinadi was taken to the king and prosecuted. Standing in chains he was sentenced to death. However, through the power of God, he was not touched until he had finished his message.

The message I carry with me is the same as Abinadi. I took it with me when I went to Israel. Only, unlike any other time in my life, I was under contract to not speak a word about my religion. All throughout my life I had the freedom to talk about my religion, something I took for granted. Then suddenly, I was not free to do so at all. And all I wanted to do was to proclaim my truth to all those around me. So, bound, I did not speak a word about my religion.

But just because I did not open my mouth, does not mean I did not share my message. Throughout my time in the Holy Land, my class would sing hymns on our field trips. We sang at churches, in caves, out in the open, anywhere. Countless times we were requested to sing in the churches we visited. And many more times, strangers would gravitate to our songs or inquire who we were.

Basement of the church

A very tender moment of mine occurred in a church in the Christian Quarter of Jerusalem. The lady there spent her time telling us of God and of the church. Then, as she released us to the basement, she asked us to sing. She loved to hear the "Mormon students''" voices come up from the floor. She told us how it touched her deeply and it was something she looked forward to when we visited.
 
All throughout the city of Jerusalem, the students from the "Mormon University" are known. But they are known for good. We are among the most trusted of tourists and are known for the light in our eyes. I talked with many people who immediately knew I was from Utah because of the light in my eyes. Though my mouth was shut, I could not hide the truth that I have. I cannot hide this truth. It is who I am; it is in my actions. And now that I am home, I will never allow my mouth to be shut again. I will share my message wherever I go. Because once that ability has been given back after being taken, you never want to give it up.

His Hands

This is a post that is not so much about doctrine and scripture; no ancient sites or spiritual experiences. Simply kind people making an impact in my life when I truly needed it.

In my previous post, Facing My Goliath, I discussed a very trying time I had. It was the after math of making one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. I went throughout the day with tear stained cheeks, seeking solitude among the mass of peers I traveled with. But, by the end of my field trip day, I had perked up enough. Still, the weight of my decision still rested on my shoulders. That night was a normal Monday night and after dinner was Family Home Evening. To be honest I have no idea what my group did or how I made it through because I just wanted to retire to my room and shut out the world.

When I was finally able to get to my room, I was the first one of my roommates back for the night. I opened the door and found quite the surprise when I turned on the light. All inside the room were paper hearts with small messages on them. Confused at first, I scanned the hearts. Each one had a name belonging to one of us four girls that lived there; all of them were anonymous. I picked up a heart with my name, and for the last time that day tears filled my eyes as I began to realize what had occurred. One of the FHE groups had decided to write "nice notes" and had picked my room. Instantly I was filled with love.

I had been in Jerusalem for a month. Out of the 81 other students on the program, only a few knew anything about me at all; and even less knew I was struggling that day. But in that moment I knew that my Heavenly Father knows me. When the group of students decided to write notes, He guided them to pick my room. He knew that such a small act was exactly what I needed to help me to be okay, after the inner conflict I was overrun by.

Truly, truly, we are God's hands. Without us, God could not reach all His children. We are on God's errand, to bless and strengthen those in need. And how are we to do so if we do not have His spirit with us! It is crucial for us to live worthy of God's spirit that He might guide us to those who need His loving influence. I would invite you, whoever you are, to go and serve someone today that you might bless someone's life when they need it, like a group of unnamed students did to me.

Who I Am

Some time while in Jerusalem, before I headed to Galilee I thought about continuing my blog after my return home. Obviously there are many experiences I never had the time to write on my blog. But more than that, I wanted to record my experiences and perspective via my religion. Again, in part for my personal record but also for those of other faiths that might stumble upon my words that they might be a source of strength and enlightenment for them. In order for me to do this, this post will be about my religion and what I believe, in order to preface future posts with this background knowledge.

All that I have stated about my religion is that I am a God fearing woman, and Christian; both of which are true. I belong to a church called The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. While this is the formal title of our church, many people know us as “Mormons”. With that in mind, there are many who argue that this is not a Christian church. To be honest, it depends on your definition of Christian. For the purpose of this post, I will define a Christian as one who believes in Jesus Christ. Which I do.

In order to more fully understand my religion I will briefly mention a few fundamental beliefs that we have.

We believe that God the Father and Jesus Christ are two separate beings.

We believe in that Christ suffered for our sins that man might return to heaven upon our willingness to repent.

We believe in a pre-earthly existence where we lived with God.

We believe in a living Prophet that is called of God to guide the members of the church.

We believe in modern day revelation and that we as individuals are capable of receiving our own personal revelation.

We believe in the Bible, and also a book of scripture titled The Book of Mormon.

We believe in agency, and that while man can be saved, it is through the desires of his heart and through his works that he is saved by the blood of Christ.

If anyone wants to know more about what I believe, there are vast resources on Mormon.org. Or, if you know a member of my religion, I would implore you to inquire of them. But for now these are some of the basic beliefs and concepts that need to be understood in order to appreciate some of the topics of my posts that will follow.

It is my goal to add a new post every Sunday in an effort to compile my experiences from the Holy Land. Consider this the preface, and my next post will be the beginning.

My Place

It has been over six months since my return from Jerusalem. Since then I have struggled to write this blog post to bring my Journey to the Holy Land to an end. But now, with tears in my eyes, I write of my final moments in this sacred place. 

On the  18th of April my class took our last final of the semester. The following Monday and Tuesday were spent on field trips dedicated to the last week of Jesus' life. During this last week I struggled to come to terms with the fact that I was leaving the place that I had come to call home. It wasn't until my teacher told my class that it was our time to return home, that I felt the spirit move upon me in confirmation that my journey here was over and there was work for me to do back in my real home.

The morning of the 23rd I awoke and ate my last breakfast at the center. I left the center to explore the city for the last time. I journeyed with my friends to the Dome of the Rock and explored the temple mount for the last time.  For the last time, I walked through the streets of Jerusalem and said goodbye to spirit I felt there. 

I spent my remaining time before dinner talking pictures of the center. I walked the grounds and wished I had done so more during my time there. After dinner everyone was going to meet outside and take pictures until we departed. I finished my dinner quickly and went outside by myself. I sat along one of the arches of the center and looked out. I watched as the sun set and others began to come outside, unaware of me sitting above them. And there, I realized was my place. My place at the center. My sacred space.

             "I found my place at the center tonight. I thought it was the bomb shelter or the couch on the fifth or sixth floor or even the corner in the well. No. It is outside with the view of my city, the breeze on my cheek. In the open, where I can see all that God has sent me.

             I might be sad I didn’t find it until now, but I am filled with peace. Because, through all the heartache and feeling out of place, I finally found it."

If there is anything I learned while in Jerusalem, it is that we create our own sacred space. It doesn't matter what happened at a location or what we think happened. What matters is the spirit we create and fill it with. After we have given it value, it is sacred to us. And that is what I found on my last night in the Holy Land. I found a place that I was able to feel peace in the midst of despair and uncertainty.

It is called the Holy Land because that is where Christ walked. That is not why I have come to know it as the Holy Land. It is holy to me because I made it that way. I was able to come to know my God and His plan for me more fully and be overwhelmed by His spirit. There isn't something magical about it that makes it automatically sacred. But I have made it sacred to me through my experiences.

This was my last night in the Holy Land.  I can think of no better words to sum up my feelings than the words of one of my favorite songs: 

             The hardest thing I've ever loved to do

             Was getting on this plane and coming home to you

             In a million ways, completely torn apart

             As a land so far away still holds my heart

           

It Has All Been Worth It

On the fifth of April I had the opportunity to go to Capernaum. What struck me most when arriving was the words of my teacher, “there are few places where we know for a fact that Christ was, this is one of them.” It’s true. Most places we go are more of a memorial to the acts of Christ or it’s where tradition says it happened. But, this was Capernaum. It was where Christ walked; where he taught. It was his home away from home, just like Jerusalem has become mine.

As I entered the city I imagined being one of the followers and disciples of Christ walking with him into the city.

I went to the temple of the synagogue where Christ taught. I saw the remains of the homes. I stood above Peter’s house. I walked the streets and went to the shore. That is where I found my place. I was filled with the spirit as I walked around this ancient town of Christ.

In my journal, this is what I wrote:

           

            If everything has been for nothing but this moment, it has all been worth it.

Working on my goal, proved to be increasingly difficult, and I certainly felt the strains and opposition that comes when coming closer to God.  But truly it was worth it to walked where Christ walked and feel of the spirit testifying this to me.

Of course, you do not need to go to these places to have such experiences. I knew that before I came here, and I know it still. But, how grateful I am to have such experiences that only bring me closer to my Savior.

How I Learned to Walk on Water

In the book of Matthew we read of the story of Peter and Christ walking on water. This has always been my favorite bible story. And, like many of you, I too have tried to walk on water.

At the time I was between the ages of 5-7, my family was on some trip to some body of water. I was young, details escape me. But this is what I do remember. I was determined that I was going to walk on the water. There was a dock and the drop to the top of the water was not that far. I ran to the end of the dock, clutching my life-jacket and stepped off. There I was, bobbing up and down in the water, utterly distraught that I wasn’t standing on the surface. Still determined, I must have tried for another 5-10 minutes, unbeknown to my family that that was what I was trying to accomplish. It never happened.

While in Galilee, this story has been sort of a theme for me. The second night in Galilee I was talking with one of my friends about my goal I had set for myself. I didn’t say much, just that it was something most people wouldn’t even think to do because of the magnitude of it. We got on the topic of walking on water and I laughed saying I should have made that my goal. In turn, he started laughing admitting he was afraid that’s what I was going to say my goal was and that he’d have to simply wish me good luck. But, it got me thinking, why couldn’t I walk on water? I have been blessed with a lot of faith, so why did it not seem plausible for me to seek to achieve such a thing.

On Tuesday the topic for my New Testament class was faith. More specifically, the story of Peter and Christ. In class we talked about the three things one must know to exercise faith. 1. There is a God, which is learned through prayer and scripture study. 2. The characteristics of God, also learned through prayer and scripture study. 3. Your will is in line with God’s will, which is learned through personal prayer and revelation. Surely, if it was God’s will I would in fact be able to tread across the surface of the sea. But, I know it is not His will for me to do this. Nevertheless, I do know that I can, that I have the potential to carry out this action, if He only bid me to do so.

Anyway, this post is not about me not walking on water, but how learned to do this. Wednesday night, one of my roommates and two of the guys here sat on the shore of Galilee discussing this particular story of Peter and Christ and our thoughts, insights, and feelings. I shared that I like to focus on how Peter got back to the boat. 1. He swam back. 2. He got back up and walked. 3. Christ carried him. Personally, I feel the latter two are more likely. Either way, Peter had to find his way back to Christ, and through it all, Christ was there, extending his hand. He was there for Peter whole time.

Now, here is the point to this long winded story. Sometimes, we need to take that leap of faith. To step out of the boat and walk on water. To do those things in our life that we feel God desires us to do. In life we will have many struggles that seem impossible, like walking on water, but if we take that leap of faith we can do it. And sometimes, we are left to fall before we are raised up again, but we are raised up if we only call out. For some it may be marriage, dating, family, school, work, and many other things that qualify as their walking on water. For me, while being in Israel and especially in Galilee I have learned more clearly what God has asked me to walk on water for. And I know I will.

The Spirit of Galilee

Yesterday I returned to my Jerusalem home. I spent my time in Galilee completely absorbed in the spirit. The spirit of God and the spirit of Galilee. As I mentioned before, I had a very intense goal. In reflection I can't say I reached it, but I can't say I didn't reach it.

I didn't literally reach it, but it wasn't necessarily something tangible to achieve. What I do know, is that I put my entire heart and soul into it and for that, I have become so much stronger. During Christ's ministry he performed the feeding of the 5,000. When the multitude sought him the next day they wanted him to again perform a miracle. What Christ tries to get them to think about is this: What is the greater miracle, that I fed you from nothing, or that the Christ that was prophesied of is actually in your midst. Sometimes we seek for these flashy miracles when truly the real miracles are right before us. And in that sense, I truly achieved my goal.

My last morning before departing Galilee, I walked to the shore and looked out and prayed. As I looked out and reflected in my time spent there I felt like Peter after Christ was crucified. He didn't know what to do anymore so he went back to fishing. He was lost. Then, when he saw Christ resurrected on the shore he leapt out of the boat and swam to shore. He could not wait to be with his savior again. I felt that leaving Galilee was leaving all I had learned in coming close to my Savior. I followed his ministry and learned by him. I was there. And now I had to leave. But, that was where Peter got the call to "feed my sheep". And so shall I, in my own way. As I closed my prayer I asked to keep with me the spirit of Galilee and remember what I had learned. And in the following posts I will share some of those, in hope that those who read can capture some of that as well.