I recently was blessed to attend the baptism of a family friend, Bailey. She just turned eight and she is a gorgeous girl. My kids went with me (and one kept crying, sorry Bailey!) but it was still such a wonderful experience. Of course I could feel the spirit there, but her grandma gave a great talk on Baptism (which I capitalize because it was all about how Christ was baptized and why, and why we should be baptized. It was everything I would expect from Lori, which is a compliment). Anyway, this got me thinking about baptism and life in general.
Then that same night, in my personal scripture study, I read in Mosiah about King Limhi and his people. For those of you not familiar with Limhi, let me tell you, he did not have a fantastically easy life. His dad was a Royal Jerk. (King Noah of the famous photo with leopards. He's fat, he's hedonistic, and he's a horrible, lazy, lecherous, murderous, well... jerk. But I digress.) Limhi didn't have a great father. In spite of that, he turned out pretty well. His dad's advisers were as bad, or maybe worse, as his dad. So poor Limhi did not have a life full of spiritual role models. To top that off, the one fantastic guy (Abinadi) gets burned alive (by his dad) and then the other great guy who Abinadi really gets going (Alma) gets run off by Limhi's evil dad, along with all his followers... so Limhi doesn't have a lot of good counsel.
Now, add to that the fact that his dad has really, royally ticked off the Lamanites. Now he's stuck making a deal where he agrees to give half of every single thing that he (and all his people) own to the Lamanites every year in exchange for, you know, keeping their heads connected to their necks. Some deal, right? (Actually 50% taxation doesn't seem THAT far fetched, but I am right there with Limhi and his people in thinking it stinks.) On top of that, the oppressive (and lazy?) Lamanites are MEAN. They get right in the faces of Limhi's people and rub it in that they're basically slaves. They push them around, make fun of them, take their stuff and generally make life miserable. Is it any wonder that the people finally come to Limhi and beg to go to war? Let's fight our way free, or die trying!!
Limhi's people try a lot. They secretly send scouts looking for the people they'd broken off from, the other Nephites like them. That fails completely. So finally, Limhi says, "Okay, let's go to war." They're destroyed. Again and again. There are literally widows they can barely afford to feed because there just aren't enough fathers to go around. Life is NOT good and the Lamanites don't make it easier.
Now, where's the biggest problem here? Like always, it's not that they aren't rich. It's not that they aren't free. I know those sound bad, and the almost starving sounds awful, but the real problem, the underlying CAUSE of their woes is that... anyone? They aren't turning to GOD. They are getting angry, frustrated, furious, dejected, depressed, irate, and on and on. But they are looking to Limhi or themselves and NOT to God. It is not until they are literally beaten like drums over and over, dead or dying that they finally humble themselves and? You've guessed it. They turn to God.
It is then that God helps them completely whoop up on those Lamanites and break free. Not. Because that's not how God works. That's when God says, "Oh good. FINALLY you have turned to me. You are looking my way. Now the next baby step." He doesn't free them. He knows that if he does, they just slump right back. It's like a child with a toy. They cry and cry for it and when they get it, they go right back to how they were before, no different. God needs them to CHANGE. So instead of an easy victory, which is TOTALLY what they wanted and what I would want in their place, God gives them something else. Something harder. He lightens their burdens.
NO NO NO! That's what I scream when God does this to me. Not LIGHTER burdens. I want those darn burdens to be GONE!!
God knows. He lightens them. We know he's listening and we keep praying. We keep being humble. We keep asking. And then he sends them a lifeline--another Nephite group from the big group. Hope. They know they aren't alone. If only they can get away, they can rejoin their people and be out from under the thumb of the Lamanites. So now they have a goal. And guess what? God eventually helps them do that.
But first? He gets them to the point where they want to be baptized. This is important. Before God GIVES them what they need (no burdens), he makes sure they have grown enough for that challenge. They have all become desirous to be baptized. Their hearts are changed. It was a long time, and a hard path to get there, but they are there. They have changed and NOW God can give them what they so desperately desired. They humbly escape, no destruction and vengeance, and rejoin their people. They get baptized there in Zarahemla and they can live beautiful lives, unfettered by the Lamanites for a while, but more importantly, unfettered by SIN. The real thing that was weighing them down.
I loved that story. Aren't we all on the same path? Whether we have been baptized already or we are preparing for it, we are all on the wobbly path either to or from a happy situation. If you are miserable, THAT'S OKAY! I have been there! I might be there again, too! But God has a plan for you to get back to happy! He has a purpose for you and a way to get there. You just have to trust that He knows how to get there and it's usually those wobbles that help strengthen us and open our hearts so we are ready to receive all he has to offer. So we can see what truly matters. I am so grateful for all the blessings I have been given, and all the wobbles it took for me to get there.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Sunday, September 21, 2014
A few photos
I mentioned last week that I found a few pictures that really touched me. I have had a crazy busy week and now I am home and exhausted. So this is kind of a lame cop out, but I thought I'd upload two of the photos I really loved. The first is the one I saw in the Uffizi that really captivated me. I felt like I could feel the Savior's sorrow, his heavy burden, and also, I felt like I could see the love he had for the people whose burdens he is carrying. I've seen a lot of depictions of the Savior over the years, but I think each one has a little different take and I loved this one. It is a very tall order to depict the only perfect person who has walked our Earth.
I guess my thought for the week is, drop a rope. Lend a hand. Start a blog. I don't know how you are supposed to be helping your friends or your family, but get your act together. Jesus has already saved all of us, but we have to take the rope and pull ourselves up, AND we also have to be the hand that tosses that rope down for others sometimes, too.
Bridget
I loved this one, too. It's Mary, offering a rope to help people get up to heaven. I love the idea of Mary (or anyone else, really) helping other people up. Mostly because I feel like we are all here for more than one reason. The first is to get back up to heaven, but the second is to help our loved ones to do the same.
I guess my thought for the week is, drop a rope. Lend a hand. Start a blog. I don't know how you are supposed to be helping your friends or your family, but get your act together. Jesus has already saved all of us, but we have to take the rope and pull ourselves up, AND we also have to be the hand that tosses that rope down for others sometimes, too.
Bridget
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Beauty all Around Us
When I was in high school, I sort of believed in God because my parents did. I wasn't just going through the motions. I mean, I felt the Spirit and I was happy doing what I was doing but I didn't feel it in my bones. It wasn't who I WAS. It was just sort of something I thought seemed good and made sense.
When I started college at BYU, I was expecting a miraculous experience. After all, I'd spent my entire life as an outsider. The only Mormon (or one of very few) at my school. Finally I would be part of a majority. Surrounded by people who believed just as I did.
I was very disappointed.
Not because the BYU kids were bad. Not because they were boring. In fact, I don't think it had much to do with them at all. I was alone for the first time and something shocking hit me. I didn't really want to go to church. I had buckets of reasons, ranging from being tired to feeling sick (I got mono) but the real reason was this: I didn't have a real testimony.
During my second semester, I decided to give this thing a real try. I'd start from the beginning. "Is there a God?" I'd do everything they tell me in Sunday school, including church attendance, prayer, scripture reading and contemplation daily. I gave myself one month to figure that one thing out.
The month came and went with no clear answer. Maybe there wasn't a God. After all, He'd never spoken to me. He hadn't sent me any clear messages. Maybe because He didn't really exist. My reading slacked off. I skipped a Sunday.
Then one morning I woke up inexplicably early. It was cold. I dragged myself out of bed and walked to my crack of dawn (er, 10 am) class. On the way something touched my heart. I know it now for the Spirit, but at the time it felt unfamiliar. I am sure it had spoken to me lots over the past months but I hadn't been tuned in. That morning my heart opened and I really looked around me. I saw trees just beginning to have buds. I saw bugs scuttling around. I saw the sun in the sky and I just knew. God had created the beauty all around me. He lived. I got a little bonus that morning. Something I hadn't even asked to know. God loved me. Little old doubting me. Lazy, wanting to sleep in every day and coast through life me. He loved me and he had plans for me.
I can't say I've always been tuned in for the messages He sends and I can't say I always look for the beauty around me, but I can say I have continued to look in the intervening years and I've never been let down when my eyes were open.
I am in Italy right now on vacation. I've seen beautiful things in the past few days. Lots of gorgeous and moving art, including the David. Nothing has touched me so deeply as a painting I saw near the exit in the Uffizi. It's dark dark. I snapped a photo with my real camera and so I'll have to add it here later but it's Christ wearing the crown of thorns and being mocked but prior to His crucifixion. It spoke to my heart. I could see in his face the love He had for the world and the deep and profound sorrow He felt that we are all so confused and lost here in this life. Oh how He loves us. Oh how grateful I am for that love.
It reminded me that although not everyone around me is Mormon, although not all of us believe in God in precisely the same form, He loves us all. There is beauty all around us if only we will look. And we will see His face in all the beauty if we will open our eyes and look for it. I pray we all can look and find Him this week.
When I started college at BYU, I was expecting a miraculous experience. After all, I'd spent my entire life as an outsider. The only Mormon (or one of very few) at my school. Finally I would be part of a majority. Surrounded by people who believed just as I did.
I was very disappointed.
Not because the BYU kids were bad. Not because they were boring. In fact, I don't think it had much to do with them at all. I was alone for the first time and something shocking hit me. I didn't really want to go to church. I had buckets of reasons, ranging from being tired to feeling sick (I got mono) but the real reason was this: I didn't have a real testimony.
During my second semester, I decided to give this thing a real try. I'd start from the beginning. "Is there a God?" I'd do everything they tell me in Sunday school, including church attendance, prayer, scripture reading and contemplation daily. I gave myself one month to figure that one thing out.
The month came and went with no clear answer. Maybe there wasn't a God. After all, He'd never spoken to me. He hadn't sent me any clear messages. Maybe because He didn't really exist. My reading slacked off. I skipped a Sunday.
Then one morning I woke up inexplicably early. It was cold. I dragged myself out of bed and walked to my crack of dawn (er, 10 am) class. On the way something touched my heart. I know it now for the Spirit, but at the time it felt unfamiliar. I am sure it had spoken to me lots over the past months but I hadn't been tuned in. That morning my heart opened and I really looked around me. I saw trees just beginning to have buds. I saw bugs scuttling around. I saw the sun in the sky and I just knew. God had created the beauty all around me. He lived. I got a little bonus that morning. Something I hadn't even asked to know. God loved me. Little old doubting me. Lazy, wanting to sleep in every day and coast through life me. He loved me and he had plans for me.
I can't say I've always been tuned in for the messages He sends and I can't say I always look for the beauty around me, but I can say I have continued to look in the intervening years and I've never been let down when my eyes were open.
I am in Italy right now on vacation. I've seen beautiful things in the past few days. Lots of gorgeous and moving art, including the David. Nothing has touched me so deeply as a painting I saw near the exit in the Uffizi. It's dark dark. I snapped a photo with my real camera and so I'll have to add it here later but it's Christ wearing the crown of thorns and being mocked but prior to His crucifixion. It spoke to my heart. I could see in his face the love He had for the world and the deep and profound sorrow He felt that we are all so confused and lost here in this life. Oh how He loves us. Oh how grateful I am for that love.
It reminded me that although not everyone around me is Mormon, although not all of us believe in God in precisely the same form, He loves us all. There is beauty all around us if only we will look. And we will see His face in all the beauty if we will open our eyes and look for it. I pray we all can look and find Him this week.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
An Open Testimony: I am Mormon
My name is Bridget Baker. I am Mormon.
For years now, I've seen people posting things on Facebook and blogs. Photos of Jesus. Quotes from the scriptures. Other "religiousy" things. When I saw them, I would think, "Oh that's nice, but I'm not like that. I keep my religion, my spirituality and my testimony private."
Then a few weeks ago, I was listening to the Phillip Phillips' song, Raging Fire, while I was driving across town to close on a new house. I was in the process of moving myself and my family of four children, a husband and a dog into a new home, and this bizarre thing happened. The Spirit spoke to my heart, and it was clear and obvious to me what I was supposed to do. God wanted me to bear my testimony, loudly, clearly, openly. Now, if you've heard the song I was listening to, you'll know that it's a beautiful song. I really love all of his songs. I could listen to most of them on repeat for hours. (This might make me sound a bit nutty, but I am like this with most songs I really like.) My point is that it's not a religious song, but it says, "Won't you turn my soul into a raging fire." As I thought about that idea, I just knew, that no matter his intended context (romantic), God has done that to me in my life over and over. The world drops away for me, and I know without a doubt that God loves me. My Savior loves me too, and He lived for me, and He died for me. And even better, He lives again, for me, and for each of us. It was time for me to tell everyone, tell the world, not just a few people I happen to meet.
This isn't supposed to be a one and done thing, the Spirit told me. I am supposed to bear my testimony regularly. Answer questions, if people have them. Address things I'm thinking about, talk about things that happen in my (somewhat boring) life, and articulate how the things I experience impact, expand, or sometimes hurt, my faith. I am going to attempt to blog every Sunday. This will be hard, since I have a lot of busy little kids (1, 3, 5, and 7), and I do part time legal work, and I write novels, and I have a life and on and on. I am sure you all get it. We are all busy busy.
For me, lately, I have been thinking a lot about the context of my testimony. I have a lot of friends and family who were raised like me, born into a family of Mormons, raised in the Church, and taught good principles. They have now gone off and gotten educated, some of them to a very high degree (bad pun). They have developed careers, and many have families. They are successful, bright, talented. God has showered them with blessings, and also placed trials in their paths. (That's how I see it. It's not how they see it, at least, not anymore.) A large number of these dear family members and close friends have examined the gospel with their developed intellects and have concluded that it's not true. They have approached the topic of God with their mind and determined that He does not exist, or that if He does, He couldn't have come to a 14 year old boy to restore His gospel to the earth. They don't believe in the restored gospel, and some of them do not, in their hearts, believe in God at all.
I can't adequately express the profound sorrow this causes me. I couldn't care less what they tell the world. I don't care whether they are looking or acting a part. I hurt inside for them (not in a condescending way) because my connection to God, the love He has for me, the connection I have with my Savior is a raging fire that lights up my life. It brings me joy, love, hope, and it anchors me during my periods of sorrow and frustration. I can see God, I can see the face of perfection in each of the angels He has allowed me, entrusted to me to raise. I see Him all around me. I felt Him keenly when my brother died. I felt Him when I went through a divorce. I've always felt Him there for me when I've taken wrong turns, when I've repented, when my heart was broken and again I have felt Him heal it, heal me.
This first blog, I am not going to delve into the basic tenets of my faith. Instead I want to deal with just one thing--what Faith means to me. It's not about reading and figuring things out with your mind. You can't gain a testimony of God through intellectual pursuits. In fact, I think trying to confuse our imperfect minds is one of Satan's best tools. (Of course the glory of God is intelligence, but Satan is a big fan of sophistry, too.)
My point is that you aren't Mormon because you've studied all God's words, or because you read Hebrew or have read the text of the New Testament in Greek. You are Mormon (or substitute Christian here for my dear and beloved non-Mormon friends) because you feel it with your HEART. You know in your bones, or even in the marrow, that God loves you. You uncover that faith from reading God's word, through service to others. Serve your own children, family or friends or strangers on the street. It doesn't matter--Jesus served everyone and His Father loves us all. When we serve others, when we live like He did, we grow to become like Him. Our hearts will open. I am Mormon because my heart is open to God's love, to God's message.
This is my message to the world. I am Mormon and I am not ashamed. I believe I was created by a loving Heavenly Father and that my brother, Jesus Christ, came to the earth and saved me, physically by breaking the bands of death through His own resurrection, and spiritually by atoning for the sins of the world. I am grateful that after all they have done, my Heavenly Father and my brother Jesus Christ, are still interested in hearing from me, through prayer. They are still interested in my well being and they have sent me a comforter in the form of a Holy Ghost who reassures me in my heart.
I am proud of my beliefs and I am happy to discuss them with anyone who wants to know more, or who has questions to ask. I will post about something new every week. (Or try to... I will be in Italy for 10 days starting tomorrow, so I will try to set something up to post on Sunday, but who knows if it will work??) My goal is to talk about, and to testify of, my feelings, my beliefs, and the joy they bring me without upsetting anyone and without hurting feelings, which I understand is hard. People take offense even when it's not intended.
I plan to use my mind to its fullest on this blog, as I do in life, but that will never take the place of having an open heart. God wants us to have and value both.
With love and hope,
Bridget Baker
For years now, I've seen people posting things on Facebook and blogs. Photos of Jesus. Quotes from the scriptures. Other "religiousy" things. When I saw them, I would think, "Oh that's nice, but I'm not like that. I keep my religion, my spirituality and my testimony private."
Then a few weeks ago, I was listening to the Phillip Phillips' song, Raging Fire, while I was driving across town to close on a new house. I was in the process of moving myself and my family of four children, a husband and a dog into a new home, and this bizarre thing happened. The Spirit spoke to my heart, and it was clear and obvious to me what I was supposed to do. God wanted me to bear my testimony, loudly, clearly, openly. Now, if you've heard the song I was listening to, you'll know that it's a beautiful song. I really love all of his songs. I could listen to most of them on repeat for hours. (This might make me sound a bit nutty, but I am like this with most songs I really like.) My point is that it's not a religious song, but it says, "Won't you turn my soul into a raging fire." As I thought about that idea, I just knew, that no matter his intended context (romantic), God has done that to me in my life over and over. The world drops away for me, and I know without a doubt that God loves me. My Savior loves me too, and He lived for me, and He died for me. And even better, He lives again, for me, and for each of us. It was time for me to tell everyone, tell the world, not just a few people I happen to meet.
This isn't supposed to be a one and done thing, the Spirit told me. I am supposed to bear my testimony regularly. Answer questions, if people have them. Address things I'm thinking about, talk about things that happen in my (somewhat boring) life, and articulate how the things I experience impact, expand, or sometimes hurt, my faith. I am going to attempt to blog every Sunday. This will be hard, since I have a lot of busy little kids (1, 3, 5, and 7), and I do part time legal work, and I write novels, and I have a life and on and on. I am sure you all get it. We are all busy busy.
For me, lately, I have been thinking a lot about the context of my testimony. I have a lot of friends and family who were raised like me, born into a family of Mormons, raised in the Church, and taught good principles. They have now gone off and gotten educated, some of them to a very high degree (bad pun). They have developed careers, and many have families. They are successful, bright, talented. God has showered them with blessings, and also placed trials in their paths. (That's how I see it. It's not how they see it, at least, not anymore.) A large number of these dear family members and close friends have examined the gospel with their developed intellects and have concluded that it's not true. They have approached the topic of God with their mind and determined that He does not exist, or that if He does, He couldn't have come to a 14 year old boy to restore His gospel to the earth. They don't believe in the restored gospel, and some of them do not, in their hearts, believe in God at all.
I can't adequately express the profound sorrow this causes me. I couldn't care less what they tell the world. I don't care whether they are looking or acting a part. I hurt inside for them (not in a condescending way) because my connection to God, the love He has for me, the connection I have with my Savior is a raging fire that lights up my life. It brings me joy, love, hope, and it anchors me during my periods of sorrow and frustration. I can see God, I can see the face of perfection in each of the angels He has allowed me, entrusted to me to raise. I see Him all around me. I felt Him keenly when my brother died. I felt Him when I went through a divorce. I've always felt Him there for me when I've taken wrong turns, when I've repented, when my heart was broken and again I have felt Him heal it, heal me.
This first blog, I am not going to delve into the basic tenets of my faith. Instead I want to deal with just one thing--what Faith means to me. It's not about reading and figuring things out with your mind. You can't gain a testimony of God through intellectual pursuits. In fact, I think trying to confuse our imperfect minds is one of Satan's best tools. (Of course the glory of God is intelligence, but Satan is a big fan of sophistry, too.)
My point is that you aren't Mormon because you've studied all God's words, or because you read Hebrew or have read the text of the New Testament in Greek. You are Mormon (or substitute Christian here for my dear and beloved non-Mormon friends) because you feel it with your HEART. You know in your bones, or even in the marrow, that God loves you. You uncover that faith from reading God's word, through service to others. Serve your own children, family or friends or strangers on the street. It doesn't matter--Jesus served everyone and His Father loves us all. When we serve others, when we live like He did, we grow to become like Him. Our hearts will open. I am Mormon because my heart is open to God's love, to God's message.
This is my message to the world. I am Mormon and I am not ashamed. I believe I was created by a loving Heavenly Father and that my brother, Jesus Christ, came to the earth and saved me, physically by breaking the bands of death through His own resurrection, and spiritually by atoning for the sins of the world. I am grateful that after all they have done, my Heavenly Father and my brother Jesus Christ, are still interested in hearing from me, through prayer. They are still interested in my well being and they have sent me a comforter in the form of a Holy Ghost who reassures me in my heart.
I am proud of my beliefs and I am happy to discuss them with anyone who wants to know more, or who has questions to ask. I will post about something new every week. (Or try to... I will be in Italy for 10 days starting tomorrow, so I will try to set something up to post on Sunday, but who knows if it will work??) My goal is to talk about, and to testify of, my feelings, my beliefs, and the joy they bring me without upsetting anyone and without hurting feelings, which I understand is hard. People take offense even when it's not intended.
I plan to use my mind to its fullest on this blog, as I do in life, but that will never take the place of having an open heart. God wants us to have and value both.
With love and hope,
Bridget Baker
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