Lessons from Endurance

The Morning of May 20, 1916 started out as a typical day at Stromness Bay. Located on the remote South Atlantic island of South Georgia, this isolated station served as the home for gritty sailors and hardy workers employed in the whaling industry.

Being so remote, the citizens of Stromness enjoyed few luxuries, and few special events. Probably the most exciting thing to have happened in their cold corner of the world was the opportunity to play host to Ernest Shackleton's ship, The Endurance, and the Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition. That was December of 1914, and both the expedition and the famous Shackleton had been missing for over 540 days, presumably lost at sea or frozen dead somewhere in the unforgiving landscape of the Antarctic Circle. But at 3 o'clock that afternoon, these secluded whalers of Stromness Bay would play witness to one of the greatest moments of modern day exploration.

Breaking the monotony of the days labor, three figures approached the small harbor. In what must have been the first time ever, these strangers approached the harbor settlement on foot, not by sea. They had come from the mountainous interior of South Georgia island, a landscape considered largely inhospitable.To the citizens of Stromness, these figures appeared otherworldly; faces black, beards unkempt, and tattered coats of skin. The image of these men was enough to send some younger Stromness boys running in fear.

A gathering crowd greeted the strange party in awed silence. When the senior figure of the mysterious trio spoke at last, he did so in perfect English. He requested an audience with the head of operations stationed at Stromness Bay. His request was granted.

Workers brought the men before the manager of Stromness Bay, Mr. Petter Sorlle; an experienced Norwegian captain and inventor. He must have looked on these men in perplexity and trepidation...

"Well?" Sorlle inquired tersely.

"Don't you know me?", asked the senior member of the trio disbelievingly.

Now more puzzled, Sorlle responded "I know your voice. You're the mate of the Daisy."

"My name," answered the man, "is Shackleton."

Against all odds, the entire 28 man crew of the Endurance had survived being shipwrecked, marooned, and starved in perhaps the most inhospitable corner of the planet. And while the ship Endurance itself had not survived, the virtue of endurance sustained these men through the worst circumstances bred by mother nature, and ultimately carrying them back to safety.

If ever you get an opportunity to read about the Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition, I would highly recommend it. In it, I have found some of the most impressive accounts of courage and determination. For me, it became a profound example of brotherhood and heroism. But aside from profound respect and admiration for Shackleton and the men of the Endurance, I enjoyed the lessons that their hardships had impressed upon my mind. I found comfort and encouragement that I might be able to personally apply lessons of endurance in my daily endeavors.

Life presents us all with hardship and difficulties, and even though they might not reach the extreme levels endured by Shackleton's crew, these trials can still take place in a cold, hopeless, and unforgiving environment. Understanding the circumstances of Shackleton's wrestle with mother nature can help you better understand your untapped capacity to overcome, withstand, and endure.

These are the lessons I learned from Endurance:

There are no rescue parties:

Far removed from our world of instant and consistent communication, Shackleton's company adventurously set out for the most remote and largely unexplored territory of the world. The trip was risky, even by today's standards.

Until that morning of May 20, 1916, no one in Shackleton's company had seen or heard any sign of human existence for more than a year. So lonely and isolated had they become, that upon hearing the whalers steam whistle on that May morning, Shackleton, Frank Worsley, and Tom Crean, paused for a long moment of emotional reverence and suppressed joy.

For the rest of the world, no one knew of the plight of the Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition. No comprehensive searches or inquiries were commissioned. No rescue attempts were planned. The world assumed Shackleton had failed, perishing in an icy or watery grave. Without any news or communication going to or  coming from the outside world, the fate of the Endurance crew seemed all but sealed. There would be no rescue party, and they knew it.

The world in general will regard your hardships with total indifference, if it is to give any regard your hardships at all. Most people do not know your struggles, and even more people don't even care to know. This is the first lesson of Endurance: There are no rescue parties.

I know this sounds cold and unfeeling. Understanding this may induce fear and anxiety. But this is an important truth you must embrace if you are to endure. For the men of the Endurance, this understanding was their reality; their misfortune. But it was also their salvation. They understood that their circumstances were uniquely their own, and as such it was within their power to do something about it. In fact, they were the only ones who could do something about it.

Shackleton and company knew the precariousness of their situation. They knew that their world at large was in the midst of the global conflict (known to us now as World War I). The global community and their beloved British Empire would have had their hands full and their minds preoccupied with the immediate crises before their own eyes. Likewise, we should understand that our social circle is also dealing with their own struggles. They too are blind to your plights. We find luxuries such as sympathy and charity in short supply, especially if we expect them from others who are enduring their own difficult circumstances.

Knowing this, Shackleton and company chose action over inaction. Instead of hoping for an unlikely rescue, they actively endured by taking stock of their situation, their resources, and their talents; combining them towards a collective goal of enduring and surviving.

To endure is to act. It does not mean sitting still. It does not mean waiting it out. Those who have learnd to endure things well have learned to act and to not be acted upon.

This does not dismiss the charitable efforts offered by loving family or friends. Neither does this mean that we should be distant and aloof towards the plight of others. Of course we should still provide aid were we can, and support where we must. What I think this lesson illustrates is that a man with no family, no friends, or no immediate source of relief has the same capacity to endure as the man who is fortunate enough to have all these things. If we understand that there are no rescue parties, we understand that our ability to endure is not dependent on the aid, comfort, or succor provided by others.

Friends cannot rescue you from depression. Spouses cannot save you from loneliness. Siblings cannot deliver you from anxiety. Parents cannot spare you from the consequences of an aimless life. Though they're intent may be pure and their efforts noble, others will not save you. They will not rescue you. They cannot rescue you.

Full relief, full recovery, or full rescue is on your shoulders… no one else’s.

This thought should empower you. It is within your power to overcome! Other's may assist or facilitate, but you are the one in absolute control of your rescue.

You get what you need... but only when you need it:

With limited resources and wretched conditions, the survival of the Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition lived in a state of constant serious need. In short time, Shackleton and company lost one luxury after another. Things we consider a necessity, such as dry clothing, solid shelter, and readily available water, were rarely enjoyed during their months-long struggle. If they were able to sleep, they often did so in melted puddles created from their own body heat. If they were able to eat, they often did so in severely rationed portions. If they were able to work, they often did so in clothes soaked in sweat, sea water, and icy chunks. However, when their situation seemed most dire, relief came at the exact moment to meet an exact need.

Food in the form of seals and penguins who crossed their path just as rations depleted.

Ice packs broke apart and drifted just moments before the ice flows upon which they camped capsized into the frigid waters of the Weddell Sea.

They reached islands just as water sources turned brackish and undrinkable.

On occasion, the sun would shine just enough to convert miserably drenched rags into manageably damp clothing.

For the crew of the Endurance, they seemed to exist miracle to miracle, with prolonged and uncomfortable periods of suffering and misery in between. Even so, relief came in a series of minor (even imperceptible) miracles. They had their needs met... but only when they truly needed it.

The human spirit seems to understand this implicitly. It is a common theme in art, literature, and cinema, that at just the moment where all hope seems lost, victory is snatched from the jaws of defeat. Somehow, Gandalf the White finds a way to save Helms Deep. Iron Man finds the 1/14,000,065 chance to save the universe. The Patriots come back from a 28-3 deficit to win a championship in the final quarters of the Superbowl. Our needs get met, but only at a time and manner specific to our greatest need.

Recent experiences have taught me this principle on a very personal level:

Nothing matters more to me than the privilege of being a father. Of the many experiences I have had, the most significant and fulfilling ones I have enjoyed I have enjoyed in the capacity of a father.

In recent years, I've endured some incredibly unpleasant moments where my paternal competency and integrity has been called into question in a very public fashion. The works of slander, manipulation, and gossip have run rampant, impacting my life in ways I could never have imagined. Though unfortunate, and unnecessary, these are my circumstances. I have found enough strength and confidence in my life, that these circumstances rarely have an impact on me... rarely.

No one lives under these circumstances totally unscathed and unimpacted. From time to time, enough doubt, frustration, and heart-ache can lead someone to question and doubt themselves, even with all evidence to the contrary. This has been my experience from time to time. At times, my spirit feels anchored and buried in grief and resentment. When I think about how my mental weariness might be impacting my abilities, anxiety only worsens things. Though few and far between, these moments unfortunately darken what should be a bright day.

Precisely at one of those moments this week, a dear friend offered his thoughts and assurances without any solicitation. I was touched by his very specific and very pointed compliments, each addressing a vulnerability or doubt I had been experiencing just moments before reading his words. I hadn't recognized that this was a need I had, and it came at a moment precisely when I had needed it most.

Our needs are met when we need it, not when we think we need it.

With that in mind, it is important to remember that relief like this may not be the final solution. It rarely is. But it is the necessary solution for a necessary time. The mana that fell from the heavens did not solve the Israelites main problem of entering the promised land. Harvested seals and penguins did not solve Shackleton's main problem of returning to civilization. This type of help facilitates, it does not intervene. If we are to endure towards victory, WE must endure. WE must earn the victory. WE must outlast.

For the final grueling descent into Stromness Bay, Shackleton, Woresly, and Crean all felt the very real presence of a fourth companion who did not appear at the whaling station. Of this fourth companion, Shackleton wrote:

"I have no doubt that providence guided us... I know that during that long and racking march of 36 hours over the unnamed mountains and glaciers it seemed to me often that we were four, not three."

It would appear that this fourth companion had appeared in a time of need, and their presence helped propel their rescue party towards success. Even still, it was the three, and not the fourth, who endured, outlasted, and earned the victory.

It is worth knowing that this was at the tail end of their struggle. They had already suffered and accomplished so much. Their experience, and many others like it, would seem to support the promise offered in Ether 12:6:

"... for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith."

You don't know your own strength:

Strength comes in many forms. For Shackleton's crew, survival depended largely on their ability harness and apply physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual strength.

For the crew of the Endurance, setbacks, bad-luck, and misfortune were the norm... not the exception. Mere months into their 500 plus day exile, plans A through Z had already been exhausted:

- They couldn't reach mainland Antarctica when their ship became trapped in ice flows.

- They couldn't seek shelter onboard their ship when the ice pack slowly crushed it to pieces.

- They couldn't camp on the ice-flows indefinitely as they broke apart beneath their feet.

- They couldn't haul their rescue boats toward open sea as they were too heavy to pack.

- They couldn't keep alive their sled dogs while preserving enough food and resources for themselves.

Plans A through Z failed abysmally, and they were left in constant peril, with each day getting incrementally and progressively more precarious.

Shackleton constantly concerned himself for the safety of well-being of his men. Aside from preserving their physical strength, he dedicated himself to preserving their moral, their mental strength, and their emotional strength. Shackleton's ability to preserve and then strategically call upon the strength of his men was a major contributing factor in their ability to endure.

At that point where you think you have given everything, every ounce of grit, blood, and courage, know that you have really only scratched the surface of your immense potential. You cannot know what you truly can give, or how far you truly can go until you are in the thick of adversity itself. Even then, you are simply experiencing a taste of the potential that you have within you; a potential that increases substantially with each passing hardship.

Ironically, the same elements that seemed intent on killing the crew of the Endurance likely contributed to their developing strength sufficient to endure the harrowing ordeal of surviving the Antarctic Circle, crossing the Weddell Sea, and finding help on the island of South Georgia. In similar fashion, our challenges and difficulties can serve as stepping stones towards greater resilience. Or they can become stumbling blocks that weigh us down into total despair. That choice is ours to make.

I think this is what God means when He promises that "[He] will not suffer [us] to be tempted above that [we] are able". When He promises this, He is giving us a little glimpse into our potential to withstand and overcome. Some people have faced some of the most intense trials and hardships, and even so He knows that they are able to endure them. In fact, He would have us know that we are uniquely qualified to face our personal struggles.

Wise men in history have a unique understanding of this. Roman Emperor and philosopher Marcus Aurelias would discourage us from asking "Why, God, did this happen to me?" Instead, we should proclaim "Thank God this happened to me!"

"I can bear it without pain, neither crushed by the present nor fearful of the future. Because such a thing could have happened to any man, but not every man could have borne it without pain. So why see more misfortune in the event than good fortune in your ability to bear it?"

- Marcus Aurelius - 

Thank God! Because I can handle this.

Thank God! Because I am uniquely qualified to handle this.

Thank God! Because others might not be able to handle this.

You can handle your hardships. You can overcome.

When your day feels cold and miserable, you can draw on deep hidden stores of strength. When your in those moments of dire need, you will find your needs met. And when your environment is dark and hopeless, you will find that it is entirely within you to rescue yourself from the hardships that beset you. This is what it means to endure.

Peace on Earth

Born to an unassuming couple, laid in a manger, and wrapped in swaddling clothes, Jesus Christ began his earthly experience in near obscurity. The very first first beings to behold his birth would have been lowly cattle, sheep, or goats. Soon thereafter, simple shepherds would visit Bethlehem and pay reverent homage to the newborn king. Born in the absence of royalty, riches, and worldly comforts, never had such a noble child been born in such ignoble circumstances.

A short distance away from The City of David, the wise men, nobles from the orient, entered an estate far larger and grandiose. They were in search of any information that might lead them to the newborn Savior. They hoped to find answers in the royal court of King Herod, known to history as Herod the Great. But at the the time of their arrival, the visiting magi might not have recognized anything great or kingly about Herod.

Herod was known by his subjects as a tyrant; more concerned about his reputation and standing with the Roman occupiers than the actual interests of the Jewish people. He taxed his people heavily. He executed dissidents, political rivals, and even family members. He made pedestrian, if not token, efforts to follow Jewish traditions, while still living lavishly. When it came to ruling the Herodian Kingdom, paranoia, excess, and delusion reigned, not Herod the Great.

Though unmentioned in biblical accounts, the wise men from the east would have been in the presence of an ailing and decrepit King Herod. By the year 4 BC, Herod's medical and mental health would have been in rapid decline. News of his condition could not be hidden, and ultimately reached ears beyond members of the royal court and Jewish elite class. The prospect of Herod's imminent demise attracted the attention of many factions. Ambitious parties formed armies, stirred up protest, and even raided weapon caches. War, conflict, and the pending power vacuum were on the mind of every Judean citizen. These were the sights, sounds, and stories that the wise men would have experienced from the moment they passed the eastern borders of the Herodian Kingdom.  

For the wandering magi, war, disease, poverty, and injustice were the norm, not the exception. Having likely traversed much of the known world during their travels, these were the conditions that the traveling magi would have seen even in the lands beyond the borders of Israel. These are not particularly encouraging things to behold when one is on a sacred pilgrimage to visit the foretold Prince of Peace. I often wonder if perhaps the irony was not lost on them. They were wise men after all. 

Though they might have been discouraged, perhaps they had hope that the birth of Christ would bring an end to the miserable earthly conditions they had seen. They might have thought that this child would bring about the end of tyranny. They might have thought his birth would mark the beginning of the end of contention or war. They were clearly acquainted with scripture and prophesy which had promised such things:

"But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed." Isaiah 53:5

But the the birth of Christ did not bring about the end of conflict. The King of Kings entered a world ruled by lesser men. The Wonderful Counselor taught only a handful of followers. And when the Prince of Peace departed from this world, war and pestilence remained a constant presence. This was hardly an atmosphere of peace and harmony.

Does this mean that Christ failed to bring peace?

Did he fail outright and from the start?

Jesus answered this question himself during his earthly ministry:

"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, I give unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." (John 14:27)

Our understanding of peace doesn't necessarily fall in line with the actual peace that Christ offers. When we think peace, we think of a world without war. We think of peace as something accomplished through a single miracle that simultaneously blankets the entire globe with good vibes and creates an immediate cessation of hostility. Christ made it absolutely clear: this is not the peace that he offers.

Elder Quentin L. Cook provides more clarity on this topic:

Peace in the world is not promised or assured until the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. The Savior instructed His Apostles that His earthly mission would not achieve universal peace. He taught, “Think not that I am come to send peace on earth.” Universal peace was not part of the Savior’s initial mortal ministry. Universal peace does not exist today.

However, personal peace can be achieved despite the anger, contention, and division that blight and corrupt our world today…

This is the peace promised by Christ. This peace is personal. It’s private. This peace starts within your own heart, then expands into your own home, and then into your own community. Peace starts with you, and you will not see peace publicly until you have achieved peace privately.

That being said, the consequences of public discontent often do affect our private peace. Many actively wage war and sow the seeds of conflict. Much like the days of the wise men and King Herod, there are many who still prefer madness over miracles, or enmity over harmony. But for every Herod, there are groups of wise men (and women) actively making and maintaining peace. These wise men know, much like the wise men of the orient knew, that personal peace is attained by practicing of stillness, developing strength, and acting deliberately.

PRACTICING STILLNESS

Renowned French mathematician and philosopher Blaise Pascal once observed that "all of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone."

During the early 1600's, an intellectual of Pascal's caliber would have had no way of predicting a world of Instagram, Tik-Tok, and texting. But his pointed observation of our inability to appreciate stillness remains relevant, perhaps even more so today.

For many of us, nothing elicits more discomfort than silence and stillness. We find it so uncomfortable, in fact, that we go to extreme lengths to avoid it or get rid of it altogether. Some of us spend hours scrolling through 10 second soundbites and stories. Some of us can't go from point a to point b without playing a fresh new playlist. Some of us even prefer to bury our heads in distractions carefully disguised as work or hobbies.

What makes stillness so uncomfortable? Why do we work diligently to stifle moments of silence? I have come to believe that silence itself does not scare us. Rather, we dislike the clarity of mind and perspective that come from stillness.

In his book titled "Stillness is the Key", author Ryan Holiday explained that "stillness is what aims the archer's arrow. It inspires new ideas. It sharpens perspective and illuminates connections." In essence, stillness produces clarity of thought. Stillness allows that still, small voice to call us to greater things; to leave behind our weaknesses and to make the hard (but necessary) decisions we must make.

When we choose distraction over stillness, we choose comfort over growth. But when we choose stillness, we choose to recognize those areas of our lives that require attention. By silencing that still small voice which beckons us towards greater things, we prevent ourselves from feeling the peace of mind that comes from reaching our unmet potential.

For Herod the Great, stillness would have gone a long way to producing peace and prosperity for him and his subjects. Instead, excess and paranoia robbed Herod the Great of a sense of peace, which in turn wreaked havoc in his household and betrayed the interests of those over whom he had stewardship.

In contrast, stillness paved the way for the wise men to experience personal peace and satisfaction. Stillness allowed the wise men to recognize the signs of Christ's birth. Stillness allowed them to hear God's warnings against the wicked King Herod. Stillness allows wise men to overcome the surrounding chaos and to find peace and satisfaction.

PRACTICING STRENGTH

The pilgrimage of the magi would have taken them through some of the most treacherous and dangerous areas of the known biblical world. Travelling through the Parthian and Roman empires would have certainly exposed them to desperate bandits eager to steal the kingly gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. How did they manage to navigate these dangerous territories unscathed?

We cannot know for certain how, but we can make some educated guesses. We can assume by their kingly gifts that these were men of nobility and status in their homelands. They likely had at their disposal a company of guards and attendants. We know that they travelled together, a wise decision made by wise men. All these things considered, their caravan would have been a formidable force to successfully overtake. I think it is safe to assume that the magi would have understood the value of strength, and they would have practiced it effectively.

There exists a popular opinion that one of the highest and virtuous pursuits a man can achieve is to become docile; harmless, inoffensive; even vulnerable. This opinion holds that strength, in particular masculine strength, is incompatible with higher virtues such as gentleness and kindness. But wise men know that these are not mutually exclusive. Strong men and women are kind. They are gentle. They are giving. But they are also self-respecting, confident, and they know when enough is enough.

"A harmless man is not a good man." explained Dr. Jordan Peterson, "A good man is a dangerous man who has that under control."

We experience peace when we develop strength mentally, spiritually, and even physically.

Consider the wounded animal, who reacts wildly, ferociously, and frantically when cornered by predators. Peace eludes the creature who is left defenseless and hopeless. Likewise, if we do not keep ourselves fit for the fight, then we not only leave ourselves exposed to the dangers of life, but we leave our families and loved ones wholly unprepared for the inevitable conflicts that will present themselves.

Wise men know that not every battle must be fought. Elder Quentin L. Cook explained that "we should be willing to compromise and eliminate strife with respect to matters that do not involve righteousness… But on conduct relating to righteousness and doctrinal imperatives, we need to remain firm and steadfast."

I urge a lot of caution here because I am not advocating that all conflict be settled with fist-to-cuff encounters. In fact, most of the conflict we will endure in life will require a very different kind of strength. Sometimes we need strength to say unpopular things. Sometimes we need strength to tell the truth. Sometimes we simply need strength to endure. And while I pray that we never be required to show forth strength in response to violence, I cannot promise that we will never be required to do so. When we are called upon to show strength, we best be prepared to show it.

Weak men and women believe that inaction or harmlessness will defuse conflict. However, weakness invites conflict. It signals to others that you are easy prey. Strength, on the other hand, deters violence and discourages abuse; though it may not entirely eradicate the possibility of injustice being carried out. But even in those circumstances, your strength communicates that you will not give up. True strength warns against carrying out any injustice or harm against you or love ones, as it will certainly come at a great cost to any villain heinous enough to try.

PRACTICING DELIBERATE ACTION

"But learn that he who doeth the works of righteousness shall receive his reward, even peace in this world, and eternal live in the world to come." (D&C 59:23)

I love this scripture because of the unique promise contained within: peace in this world.

God doesn't promise peace only for the hereafter. God is not so cynical and contemptuous to leave us in a perpetual state of misery and dissatisfaction during our mortal experience. God intends that we experience the good, along with the bad. He designed mortality to help us gain perspective and experience. Through it all, He asks us to do one thing: Do the works of righteousness.

Action for the sake of action does not bring about the promise of personal peace. In fact, knee-jerk reactions and impulsive behaviors often create more chaos than peace. To take righteous action, one must take deliberative action.

Do not mistake deliberation for slowness or hesitancy. Someone who takes deliberative action does not dither or stumble in the face of controversy. Rather, deliberation often takes place long before the need for action. Deliberative action results from a pre-established hierarchy of righteous values and principles. When ideals such as honesty, humility, and courage become cemented in our character, they serve to guide and influence our actions at those times when action becomes necessary. Honest people decide to be honest long before they are faced with the difficult task of telling the truth. Courageous people decide to be courageous long before they are called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Men and women of this character are aptly described through a poem titled "Fellowship of the Unashamed":

I am part of the fellowship of the unashamed. I have Holy Spirit power.

The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I am a disciple of His. I won’t look back, let up, slow down, back away or be still.

My past is redeemed. My present makes sense. My future is secure. I’m finished with low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap giving, and dwarfed goals.

I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, applause, or popularity. I don’t have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean on His presence, walk by patience, am uplifted by prayer and labor by power.

My pace is set. My gait is fast. My goal is heaven. My road is narrow. My way rough. My companions few. My guide is reliable and my mission is clear.

I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the adversary, negotiate at the table of the enemy, pander at the pool of popularity or meander in the maze of mediocrity.

I won’t give up, shut up, let up, until I’ve stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, preached up for the cause of Christ.

I am a disciple of Jesus. I must go till He comes, give ’til I drop, preach till all know, and work till He stops me. And when He comes for His own, He’ll have no problem recognizing me. My banner will be clear.

When given the warning not to return to King Herod, the wise men already knew what action they had to take. They had decided, long before the decision at hand was ever to be made, that they would do what is right; that they would follow the promptings of that still-small voice. They took deliberative action and followed the inspiration given to them, giving little thought (if any) to their own safety or comfort.

Did the actions of the wise men bring peace? Did it thwart the evil intent of King Herod?

It did not.

In his madness, King Herod became even more brutal and desperate. In a fit of rage and paranoia, he ordered the massacre of innocent children, fearing the usurpation of his throne and kingdom. Joseph, Mary, and Jesus were forced to flee to safety. For the subjects of the Judean Kingdom, life would become more miserable, not less.

In the aftermath of righteous action, wickedness will survive. In some unfortunate cases, it may even thrive. But remember that peace is not a product of our external environment. It is born within, and then it radiates outward. Peace does not rain upon us (though God may grant us a sense of peace in times where we need it most). Peace rarely descends upon us. Peace emanates from us; it resonates from us.

For those who decide to forsake wisdom, they choose instead to embrace the chaotic and destructive path favored by Herod. Herod could not practice stillness, for he was far too anxious over holding power. Herod could not exemplify strength, for he lacked control and discipline. Herod could not act deliberately, for he permitted fear and avarice to guide his decisions.

In Herod's mind, peace could only be achieved by exerting influence or power over the external world. So Herod the Great acted accordingly. He murdered. He lied. He manipulated. Descriptions of Herod's character identify him as one who would be "prepared to commit any crime in order to gratify his unbounded ambition." Yet, in spite of Herod's manipulations and maneuverings, peace eluded him. He died under excruciating circumstances, leaving behind a legacy of chaos and discord.

When comparing the two kingly characters of the Christmas story, one notices a glaring difference between the peace offered by King Herod, and the peace offered by the King of Kings; He whom we call Wonderful, Counselor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father...

The Prince of Peace.

"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, I give unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." (John 14:27)

In a world full of Herod's, choose to be a wise man (or woman). Favor stillness over disruption. Seek strength above instability. And when action is needed, do not flinch, hesitate, negotiate, pander, or meander. Be concerned over what is right, not over what will happen. To those that practice these, peace is promised.

Repentance & The Parable of the Muddy Tractor

In anticipation of a good and plentiful harvest, farmers must look months (even years) ahead to prepare and cultivate the land that will produce crops. Branch and bramble must be uprooted from rugged soil. Brush piles must be cleared and removed to expose fertile and arable soil. Finally, the earth must be tilled and the soil made hospitable for seed. Plentiful harvests are only realized through a farmer's effort to shape and prepare the soil.

One of my favorite spring-time duties was tilling the fields with tractor and disking machinery. Disking involves prepping the fields with a series of ploughs (or disks) towed by heavy tractors. When plunged into the soil, these disks churn, flip, and furrow the soil; creating ideal conditions for seeds to germinate and grow. It is straightforward work; drag the disking machinery in parallel lines one pass at a time. I enjoyed the work because it was private, repetitive, and best paired with a lengthy playlist of songs which could be sung at a volume too embarrassing for the public, but perfect for a sound-insulated tractor cab for an audience of one. In short, I loved this work!

One particularly beautiful spring day, I met with my father to review the next field that needed plough-work. In the previous summer, we prepared this particular field by clearing more acreage and painstakingly picking sticks and rocks, and removing them from the new field (my least favorite work; but that is a story for another day). The earthwork from this field was backfilled to eliminate a natural wash running through the middle of the field. The wash separated the larger existing field from the newly cleared field we were preparing for it's inaugural seeding.

"Avoid the old wash." Dad warned me.

Dad explained that the soil was soft and had not been adequately compacted. We experienced typical spring moisture, and while the natural wash had been filled, residual moisture still remained in the soil where the wash once stood. I remember thinking that the soil looked dry and suitable for plough-work. However, Dad admonished in clear and explicit terms that was I to avoid that portion of the field.

This wasn't my first rodeo. On multiple occasions I had ploughed areas similar to this wash without any difficulty. The plough tractor was the most powerful machine on the ranch, and it pulled the heavy disk machine with ease. Making quick work of the pre-approved dry acreage, I approached the wash closer and closer with each pass. My confidence (and pride) grew stronger and stronger.

After confirming that my father's truck (and supervising eye) were long gone, I skirted the edges of the wash with my last shred of adolescent trepidation. As I suspected; the fringe dirt was moist, but firm enough. After a few more cautious passes, and there was no doubt in my mind: I could traverse the wash with ease.

The plan was simple; bifurcate the old wash and connect the two separate parts of the field. My father would be so impressed.

Lifting the disks, I took a wide turn through the freshly ploughed dry dirt, turning the equipment perpendicular to the wash. With the engine's RPM set to the appropriate speed, I began my descent into the old wash and into Heart Lake Ranch legend.

Whereas the outskirts of the old wash were lightly watered, the central soil was spongy, then muddy... then downright sloppy. Tens of thousands of pounds in metal, rubber, and machinery plunged deep into dark brown (nearly black) mud. At that exact moment I gained a new appreciation for the words "bogged down". The tractor jerked, heaved, and sputtered with each futile wheel rotation, spewing large clods of mud far behind the tractor. I frantically raised the disks, placed the tractor in reverse, then in drive, then in reverse once more. The effort was pointless of course. I was stuck, and I knew it.

Revving down the engine, I opened the door to get an outside look, hoping against all odds that a solution would be made obvious if I could only get a better picture of the situation. Normally the jump down from the main cab to solid ground would have been a lofty six foot descent. This time, I needed only a single step from my seat to reach "solid" ground. I at once noticed those massive tires, which at one time had traversed and tamed such rugged and wild landscapes, were now hopelessly cemented in place by dark viscous mud. The panic I felt was gone, replaced by far more torturous combination of dread, embarrassment, and angst.

Although unique and mildly humorous, my experience of the muddy tractor might seem to you very familiar, peculiar as that might seem. Of course, not all of us have the privilege to operate heavy duty farm equipment. Some of us may not have even set foot on a farm, let alone a tractor. However, we all suffer the cycle of sin and endure the fallout of mistakes borne of pride, arrogance, and ignorance. No matter the circumstances or setting, we experience sin the same way:

We are given instructions, counsel, or guidance...

We convince ourselves (and sometimes others) that we know better...

We tip-toe around the line, believing ourselves invulnerable when we don't see immediate consequences of our tap dance with right and wrong, until in due time...

We find ourselves alone, sullied, and floundering in a quagmire of our own making.

Many of us double down on our pride, thinking "I got myself in this mess, I'm can sure as hell get myself out of it". So we spin our wheels and churn our legs, boldly determined to get out and get on. Admirable as this might seem on the surface, this belief is simply a last desperate remnants of the same arrogance that led us into sin in the first place. Still, we are surprised that our "admirable" effort doesn't yield a desired outcome.

We remain stuck.

These are the circumstances of sin; rhythmic and repeatable.

Getting out requires that we recognize those barriers keeping us from repentance, humbly cry for help, and rely on the goodness of others.

Recognizing Barriers to Repentance

No two sins look alike. There are sins of commission (intentional and malevolent action), and there are sins of omission (neglectful and apathetic inaction). In in many instances, we make mistakes where both omission and commission are at play. Driving a massive tonnage of expensive farm machinery into deep mud certainly constitutes a sin of commission. But we also find the sin of omission in the pride of youth, the apathy of laziness, and the disobedience to a father's wise counsel.

We could quibble over the degree of seriousness one sin may have over another. We could go to great lengths to catalog the ways in which others err. We could, and we too often do. This default mindset robs us of the fruits of repentance; namely peace, confidence, and joy.

How much better would we be, if instead of arguing the intricacies of committable motes and beams, we focused on those barriers keeping us from actually enjoying the fruits of repentance?

So if finding blame in others serves no purpose, where should we point the finger? Our first answer might be, "well, myself of course." Though that mindset is more accurate, it too misses the mark. Looking at our own face in the mirror usually produces the same loathsome judgment that we would have reserved for someone else and their mistakes. In reality, the basic "I'm the problem" attitude is as pointless as the "they're the problem" attitude. The true barrier to repentance is not a face we see reflected back at us, rather a silent and unaddressed fear beneath the surface. Fear keeps us from change. Fear keeps us from growth. Fear keeps us from repentance.

This begins to make sense if we remember that faith precedes repentance in the order of gospel principles. Then we must remember that the antithesis to faith is fear. Whereas faith involved hope, confidence, and action, fear involves despair, uncertainty, and inaction.

Faith tells us that repentance brings about positive change. Faith tells us that life will be brighter, happier, and more fulfilling on the other side of change.

Contrast that with fear, which tells us that change is not always good, and that the risks associated with repentance are far too great. This is why faith, as a gospel principle, is placed before repentance: faith and fear cannot coexist, and where there is no fear, there is no barrier to repentance.

If faith is the hope of things not seen but true (Ether 12:6), then fear is the anticipation of things invented in our minds and most likely not true at all. Fear conjures up an endless array of what-ifs, and these speculations serve us little. We would be farther ahead if we understood, as the wise stoic philosopher Seneca did, that “we suffer more often in imagination than in reality.”

This was my struggle that spring day on the ranch. Imagining the most severe and worst case scenarios became my default line of thought. Precious brain power and problem-solving energy were wasted. What punishment lay in store? What would I be losing when the piper needed paying? In reality, there would be no way of knowing. But the fear was present, and it was keeping me from doing that which was necessary in favor of doing that which was self-destructive.

Overcome your fear, and you will overcome the single greatest barrier to repentance and growth.

Humbly Cry For Help

How do you know once that fear has been conquered? One good sign is you’re ability to ask for help and seek the assistance of others.

Consider the following:

Our fear of rejection keeps us from showing someone else that we are human; that we have weaknesses.

Our fear of isolation keeps us from sharing any vulnerability that could repel a potential partner, friend, or opportunity.

Our fear of losing status keeps us from exposing shortcomings that might tarnish our reputation and compromise our future.

A man or woman that has mustered the courage to seek help, to ask for it humbly from people that they love and respect; that is a man or woman that has learned to overcome their fear.

You see, there comes a point where you can no longer hide the consequences of your actions. At some point, the lies you’ve told or lived come to light, visible to everyone from whom you tried so desperately to keep them a secret. At some point, your ruinous behavior bleeds itself into other areas of life. By that time, when loved ones discover the fallout of your mistakes, how much greater shall be your shame and embarrassment? How much damage and pain might you have spared yourself and others?

I knew at some point, my dad would be driving by the muddy mess I had made with the tractor. I knew I had created a problem I couldn't solve myself. But fear stayed my hand from calling out for help on the radio. Fear drove the belief I could get out of the mess on my own. Fear fueled my frantic solo efforts to get unstuck, thereby worsening my situation with each futile attempt.

Had I fought my fears, I might have seen my error immediately as a difficulty worthy of outside help. I would have called my father seeking help sooner, saving precious time and energy. Instead, I permitted fear to control of the situation, which led to one disastrous decision after another.

With daylight fading fast, and with nowhere else to turn, I was left without any other options; I had to call for help. I picked up the radio, reached out to my father, and told him I needed his help.

Rely On the Goodness of Others

To my surprise, the response to my petition came back unemotional and plain. My father had heard the message loud and clear, and though I didn't give too many details, he knew enough to know that I had messed up royally. But his tempered response provided little comfort; I imagined the real tongue-lashing was being held in reserve for the time that he had seen my spectacular failure.

In a few short minutes, I could see the rescue party approaching. A large pluming dust cloud trailed the pick-up truck; the kind of dust cloud you see behind a speeding truck with an agitated and aggravated driver at the wheel. As he got closer, I could see one, then two passengers in his company; my older brothers. My shame and embarrassment intensified as I imagined all the fraternal heckling and teasing that was sure to follow.

They all exited the truck, and I braced myself for teasing. Not a word was said. They approached the scene of the crime, and I prepared myself for reprimand. Nothing happened. They beheld the hopeless situation I had created, and I steeled myself for humiliation. That never happened either! Instead, they saw the problem for what it was, worked on a game plan, and before I knew it, my father was back in his truck and off to another field to enlist the help of the ranch dozer to drag the helpless tractor out of my mess. No punishments. No reprimands. No ridicule. Just a sigh, a snicker, and a playful "I-told-you so" look.

We all spent the next several hours hooking chains, dragging machinery, and heaving the metal mess out of the mud. The anticipation of hard feelings and emotional frustration disappeared, replaced instead by an attitude of problem solving and cooperative work. We poked fun at the situation, teasing one another about other infamous machinery breakdowns and mishaps. Rather than feel isolated and singled out, I felt reassured. This was a part of farming and life, they reminded me. We laugh and we plough on. 

To fully experience the joys of change and repentance, we need to rely on the goodness of others. Read that closely again. You will note that I did not say we NEED the goodness of others. Whether some people demonstrate goodness or not, that does not matter. What does matter, is that we rely on someone's goodness and generosity when it does present itself. When we find it, we accept it.

You will find that there might not be goodness in others. You might find that the people from whom you would expect to find safety, security, and understanding are wholly incapable of providing them. What I am saying is that you need to trust that they will show their quality as a friend, a confidante, and a guardian. If they do not, you will have learned something valuable about your relationship with them. You will discover the need to surround yourself with those who do understand such concepts as forgiveness and charity.

People generally are good. Family and friends that fall into this category will not disown you and they will not abandon you. They might be upset, and we must take care not to confuse their disappointment with rejection. They will stand by you. They will support you. These dutiful and earnest souls will get down in the mud with you, disconnecting chains, scrapping off mud, and spending precious hours by your side. 

This does not give you full liberty to be a constant source of pain and wrong-doing. Repeated offenses and transgressions that cause hurt or pain to ourselves and others will, in time, drive even good people away. This becomes especially true in cases where the offender does little or nothing to right the wrongs they cause. Though they may love you and hurt for you, good people do not abide relationships where others take advantage of their love and sacrifice.

I know that sharing vulnerability and weaknesses with others can be one of the most difficult things to do in our lifetime. Often times, we can, and sadly do, lose relationships through honesty and forthrightness. Not all people appreciate candid accountability. Some people will judge you. Some people will leave you. Some may even try to hurt you (added emphasis on try).

I cannot say for sure why our deficiency and fragility inspire such ugly responses, but they sometimes do. Someone's poor reaction does not indict you, your character, or your value. However, if you take repentance and change seriously, you can always expect to lose something along the way. That loss becomes part of your growth, and though it may not seem so, it is a blessing to lose associations that will not help you through muck and mire.

We gain so much from walking a path of penitence. I don't say these things from a position of piety. For some, the word repentance might carry with it an air of pretentiousness or religiosity. What an unfortunate misguided position to take! The practice of repentance does not belong only to devout practitioners, rather it is a principle from which we all receive benefit.

Consider the glutton developing discipline to eat better, and exercise more. This is repentance.

Consider the addict abandoning convenient escapism, and resolving personal issues. This is repentance.

Consider the indolent waking up, and assuming increased responsibility. This is repentance.

Consider the unruly teen taking note, and remembering a father's wise counsel. This is repentance.

Change. Personal development. Transformation... Repentance.

So when we feel stuck, like we're spinning our wheels, and plunging deeper and deeper into some intangible bog, I pray that we might find courage and overcome our fears.

When we feel like we can go no further on our own, like we have exhausted our very best efforts with no results, I pray that we humbly reach out to those who could help us out.

When others, when in response to seeing our struggle through proverbial dregs, express repulsive outrage, I pray we can dismiss their offenses and still trust in the goodness of others.

Identity & Loneliness

"The primary indication of a well-ordered mind," taught Seneca, "is a man's ability to remain in one place and linger in his own company."

Solitude and privacy are important pursuits. They are necessary for self-discovery, personal revelation, and clear thinking. In fact, some of history's greatest milestones and thresholds were only crossed in the aftermath of quiet peaceful thinking, distant from the raucous noise of everyday living.

We should seek diligently moments of purposeful solitude, for those will be some of life's most pivotal moments.

The recent pandemic provided ample opportunity for solitude. However, it created conditions whereby so many people experienced intense and debilitating loneliness. That being said, a distinction should be drawn between solitude, and loneliness; a condition plaguing a great many people with physical and emotional isolation.

Solitude is the conscious and deliberate distancing you make of your own freewill. Loneliness is a state of bleakness and sadness due to an absence of desired company. Whereas solitude would be a choice made by us, loneliness is more a result of someone else's choice to generate distance between us and them. This distance may be physical or emotional, but it is distance nonetheless.

It is worth noting, sometimes loneliness may not actually result from other's choices so much as from the consequences of our own choices; even our poor behavior and attitudes. These you must investigate diligently and honestly so as to assure yourself that your personal choices are not the primary drivers of your loneliness.

Loneliness is not an enviable condition to be in. It breeds discouragement, frustration, and confusion. It can be cruel and crushing. But it is intended to be miserable! It is intended to teach us!

What does loneliness teach us?

Canadian poet Rupi Kaur answered this question both eloquently and simply when she said, "Loneliness is a sign you are in desperate need of yourself."

This struck me as such a novel and profound concept. It implies that loneliness is not so much an ailment requiring treatment or doctoring. Instead, it implies that it is a symptom; a manifestation of a larger, more ambiguous problem. That problem, I believe, stems from a personal struggle with our identity, or rather our skewed understanding of:

- Who we are.

- Where we are from.

- What we are destined for.

- Where we fit in.

In a recent address at General Conference, Elder Ballard spoke on the importance of identity and the impact of loneliness in our lives.

Quoting recent research by the Mayo clinic on the matter of belonging, Elder Ballard explained that "having a sense of belonging is so important... nearly every aspect of our lives is organized around belonging to something."

Ask yourself:

What sports team fandom do you belong to?

What political parties do you identify with?

What church do you attend?

What is your alma mater?

What companies have you worked for?

We long to belong. Identity. Purpose. Even physical health. Our belonging influences each of these in unique and important ways.

In the same report quoted by Elder Ballard, it states, "We cannot separate the importance of a sense of belonging from our physical and mental health." Elder Ballard went so far as to include spiritual health as well.

Our struggle with identity remains a bigger problem than we ever supposed, and it's consequences manifest themselves on both micro and macro scales. The problem extends far beyond loneliness. I suggested that loneliness is merely symptomatic of our deeper issues with identity. I also suggest the same applies to addiction, suicide, abuse, and avarice. A major identity crisis persists in our world, with its roots deeply burrowed in the hearts and minds of each of us individually. We don't know who we are... and it shows.

Why? What could be causing this dysfunction at a scale so expansive and extreme?

Scripture I believe can give us some keen insight into why we might be experiencing a crisis of identity.

Consider the experience of Moses found in Moses chapter 1, who while "caught up into an exceedingly high mountain... [saw] God face to face... talked with him... [and] endure[d] His presence."

This would be a monumental experience for anybody; being in direct contact with Heavenly Father Himself, conversing, learning, and beholding His glory. For Moses, this would prove to be a defining moment of his life, as it would be for any man or woman.

This is such a rare experience, that you might think that only the most important things would be discussed or shared, and you would be right! What does Moses learn from this interaction with God?

God teaches Moses purpose, explaining “I have a work for thee”.

God teaches Moses' heritage, declaring “Thou art in similitude of mine Only Begotten”.

God teaches where Moses came from, stating "There is no God beside me”.

God teaches Moses who he is, revealing "Moses, my son..."

Heavenly Father gives Moses an identity.

Moses is so impacted by the experience, that when it is all said and done, and when Moses is once again “left unto himself...  [he] fell unto the earth”.

Imagine for a moment the emotional state Moses must have been left in; we are explicitly told that “the presence of God withdrew from Moses, that His glory was not upon Moses.”

Moses feels:

- Tired (…it was for the space of many hours before Moses did again receive his natural strength)

- Insignificant (…I know that man is nothing)

- Bewildered (…which thing I never had supposed)

- Lonely and isolated (…he was left unto himself…)

Isn’t this fascinating? That after the incredible experience of seeing God face to face, witnessing His glory, His marvelous works, and being told point blank and outright who he is and gaining an understanding of his own potential… even then Moses could feel such emotions like fatigue, nothingness, confusion, and lowliness; feelings we all are familiar with.

Even more fascinating is what happens next. You see, when left in this state of extreme exhaustion and bewilderment, Moses is left vulnerable and exposed. At this exact moment, the adversary makes a strategic and deliberate appearance.

Have you ever seen those wildlife documentaries showing the dramatic scenes of predator pitted against prey? Predators act mercilessly and methodically, first identifying the weak targets in the herd. Then they proceed to prod, distract, and persist until an predetermined target detaches from the herd, isolated, unguarded, and outmatched. In a sense, the target loses their identity with the herd.

The adversary is no less cunning and ruthless in his approach. He understands the importance of identity. So through deceit, confusion, and persistence, he methodically works to undermine our identity.

Give notice to how Satan operates in his own interaction with Moses:

Almost immediately, Satan distorts Moses' freshly understood identity, calling him "Moses, son of man..."

When that fails, Satan turns to intimidation, howling at Moses "I am the Only Begotten, worship me."

Satan then escalates Moses' fear with "weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth" and causing the earth itself to tremble.

We read that the experience terrified Moses so much, that he sees the bitterness of hell. What is loneliness (or addiction, or depression, or any other struggle for that matter), if not a bitter hell?

Fear engulfs Moses, who just moments ago endured the presence of God and beheld His glory. Remember this! Remember this the next time fear, despair, and loneliness overwhelm you. Your experience is not that uncommon, even and especially among the most revered and influential people.

What happens next for Moses is significant. Remember, he is tired, bewildered, and feeling plunged into the very depths of hell. Even so, Moses remembers. He remembers in whom he trusts. He remembers from whence he came. He rebuffs the adversary, discarding his venomous efforts and ultimately dismissing him. Moses accomplishes this because Moses remembers who he is.

Identity matters . Knowing who you are, and knowing that God loves you, is fundamental. When (not if) your world collapses around you, and you are in the throws of intense frustration, isolation, and loneliness, you can still stand. You can endure.

With great empathy, Elder Ballard expressed the following:

"I personally feel the pain of those who lack a sense of belonging. As I watch the news from around the world, I see many who seem to be experiencing this loneliness. I think that, for many, it is because they may not know that they are loved by Heavenly Father and that we all belong to His eternal family. Believing that God loves us and that we are His children is comforting and assuring."

"Because we are the spirit children of God, everyone has a divine origin, nature, and potential. Each of us 'is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents'. This is our identity! This is who we really are!"

You may feel, as I am certain that most of us have felt at some point, that you are unworthy, therefore unable, to feel God’s love. I might suggest a different point of view: that when it comes to feeling and benefitting from God’s love, there are no unworthy persons… only unwilling persons.

Too often, we tend to question God's love. This struggle can become a major stumbling block:

If God loved us then why would he permit (fill in the blank)?

Where was God when (fill in the blank)?

Why does God allow (fill in the blank)?

No one is immune to these doubts. Though we might think it shameful to have such thoughts, I would encourage you to look to other scriptural examples where history’s spiritual giants also experienced similar feelings. Think Joseph Smith in liberty jail (Oh God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place? How long…?), or Amulek witnessing the burning of innocents (How can we witness this awful scene?). Again, no one is immune to these doubts.

We know, inherently, that God indeed loves us. Yet still, we may not necessarily feel the love of God at that moment, or more likely we may not recognize His love. We don’t vocalize those feelings, nor our hidden displeasure. I believe no one wants to come across as ungrateful or unfeeling. But all of us (not just some of us) are enduring, or will endure, the circumstances of loneliness, loss, frustration, and discouragement. These are not ideal conditions conducive towards feeling love from anyone, let alone our Heavenly Father. But these are the natural circumstances of our mortal experience. They existed before our birth, they will exist far beyond our death, and they are present at every step in-between.

I know this might not be the encouragement or solution you want to hear, and on it's surface it may not seem very comforting. But to know this is to know also: others have walked where you walk. Others have endured what you endure. Others have traversed the bitterness of hell, heard the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth, even felt the earth (the very foundation of their world) shake, heave, and tremble. And they did so not just once, but often times repeatedly. And they came out of the refiners fire; stronger, bolder, sharper, and with a more intense understanding of who they are.

After his own experience with the bitterness of hell, Moses again enjoys the glory of God and His presence. He sees even more wonders and workings of the Lord. God reiterates that He has chosen Moses. God reveals to Moses the power that is within him; power he never imagined he would possess. 

Moses is promised, "Lo, I am with thee, even until the end of thy days".

Think about that for a moment. Heavenly Father is telling him (and us) something very important here. Now that Moses knows who he is, now that he knows his true identity, Moses is promised that he will never be lonely again.

Similar comfort is given to Joseph Smith, who while enduring his own bitter hell, received revelation which has become one of my favorite scriptural passages:

My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;

And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.

We too often seek identity and belonging in all the wrong places. Opinion, approbation, and accolade drive the way we treat others, the way we act, and even the way we think. To bask in the light of popularity can be a wonderful thing, but the experience is as fleeting and fickle as the people from whom distinction is sought. To seek identity from extraneous sources is to enjoy only ephemeral satisfaction. But to discover your true identity, and remembering it ever after, is to experience profound peace, clear purpose, and sound associations.

While you will not be able to avoid loneliness, I promise that it is within you to dispel it. Consider it a sign that you may have forgotten these important things, and that you need to re-calibrate and re-find yourself. At that point, you will have converted your loneliness into solitude and your grief into gain. When finally restored or reacquainted with new or old company, you will have done the work necessary to experience relationships more deep, pure, and meaningful than ever before.

Faith to Move Mountains

In a recent family visit to South Jordan, I stood in contemplative awe of the westward Oquirrh Mountains. The dominant scene of these mountains is the Bingham Canyon Mine; a mine distinguishing itself from all other mining locations around the world:

- It is the largest man made excavation spanning a distance of 2.5 miles,

- It is the deepest open-pit mine, reaching depths of 0.75 miles deep, and,

- It has produced more copper than any other mine in human history.

Standing there in the shadow of the of the Oquirrh Mountain range, my awe was not caught up in the width, the depth, or the massive yield of ore produced by the Bingham Canyon Mine. Rather, I could not help but feel that I was witnessing - in real-time - the slowest and most unheralded man-made miracle, that I had ever seen: I was witnessing the literal movement of mountains.

The seeds of this massive project began as early as 1848, when brothers Sanford and Thomas Bingham discovered ore and mineral deposits in the canyon where they grazed cattle. Their enthusiasm for their discovery was not shared by Brigham Young, who advised against mining operations in favor of attending to other settlement strategies.

Forgotten for a time, interests in mining activities in the area were reignited, then discouraged, then reignited once again. Most early experts predicted that the mine would never be profitable. Nevertheless, many saw the potential for riches and prosperity, and they would not be deterred.

Shovels and pickaxes evolved into prospecting, then prospecting into steam shovels. Scoop after scoop, cart-load after cart-load, faithful generations and persistent hands have turned the mountain landscape inside out.

So too does our faith (particularly our faith in Christ) move the mountains in our lives; discretely, ingloriously, but unshakably. Our faith, though small and simple, is bringing great things to pass. We just might not be aware of it.

Imagine with me that intimidating mountain that you face right now. I know you can see it, because we all have one. These are the trials that go bump in the night, and they are as unique and complex as the individuals tasked with overcoming them. As much as we wish it so, it may not be in the Lord's plan to move that mountain for you; but it is certainly not in His plan to crush you beneath it.

Perhaps your mountain must be circumnavigated; traversing through foothills, streams, and valleys.

Perhaps your mountain must be scaled; ascending, belaying, and clambering one tedious step after another.

Or perhaps, even, your mountain must be blasted, drilled, bored, and cleared through miles of near-impenetrable bedrock.

No matter the strategy, the principles that govern how we access, acquire, and apply the powers generated through our faith in Jesus Christ are universal. President Nelson expanded on some of these principles, teaching us how we might tap into those powers sufficient to overcome mountains.

Here are those 5 principles:

Principle #1: Study. Become an engaged learner.

President Nelson promised, "The more you learn about the Savior, the easier it will be to trust in His mercy, His infinite love, and His strengthening, healing, and redeeming power. The Savior is never closer to you than when you are facing or climbing a mountain with faith."

Why is this so? Why is the Savior so near while we face and climb our allegorical mountains? It could be that in reaching the summit, we gain the perspective, clarity, and understanding that Christ himself possesses. It could be that through our climb, we find ourselves lifted higher and higher towards a more Christ-like way of living. I believe both of these are true. I also believe that the Lord gives us mountains so we can learn how to climb.

Though we may not see them as such, some mountains are gifts that serve to lift our spirit, strengthen our resolve, and cement our hope. So in becoming an engaged learner, as President Nelson counsels, we also become an heir to His wisdom and His knowledge. Imagine the power possessed by those to whom these gifts are given! Imagine the miracles made available to those in possession of this power!

"Moving your mountains may require a miracle." declared President Nelson. "Learn about miracles. Miracles come according to your faith in the Lord. Central to that faith is trusting His will and timetable ... Only your unbelief will keep God from blessing you with miracles to move the mountains in your life"

Principle #2: Choose to believe

Agency is another incredible gift granted to us by a loving Heavenly Father. As with all His gifts, we are left to decide how we use them and to what end. This gift of agency shows just how much potential the Lord sees in each of us, and the amount of trust He has that we can make right decisions.

Choice plays a pivotal role in how we gain access to power sufficient to move mountains. Consider the teachings shared in Alma 32:

We CHOOSE to experiment on the words of Christ

We CHOOSE to exercise a particle of faith

We CHOOSE to allow room for the seed of faith planted in our hearts

We CHOOSE if that seed is good

These choices are not placed in God's hands. These choices belong to us. Choosing to believe in Jesus Christ and the principles of the gospel is choosing to have access to the powers of heaven; powers that move mountains.

Principle #3: Act in faith

Faith is action. Faith is work. Faith is behavior.

We are mistaken if we look at faith as a passive and submissive state of belief. Look at the litany of verbs that accompany the teaching of faith throughout the scriptures. Alma 32 alone uses the following verbs while teaching on faith: exercise, compare, experiment, plant, grow, swell, sprout, strengthen, bring forth, expand, enlighten...

These are not words of inaction or idleness. These are words of power; words of action.

In helping drive this point home, it helps me to remember that we are invited to take leaps of faith. Never have I been encouraged to take a seat of faith.

Principle #4: Partake of sacred ordinances worthily

In this regard, President Nelson was short and to the point when providing insight into the importance of gospel ordinances.

As explained earlier, learning of Christ builds power. Choosing to believe in Him qualifies us for access to power. Action in harmony with His gospel directs power. But it is the "ordinances [that] unlock [and I would add unleash] the power of God for [our lives]".

Principle #5: Ask your Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, for help.

With a spirit of urgency, President Nelson exhorted the following:

"Please know this: if everything and everyone else in the world whom you trust should fail, Jesus Christ and His Church will never fail you. The Lord never slumbers, nor does He sleep. He “is the same yesterday, today, and [tomorrow].” He will not forsake His covenants, His promises, or His love for His people. He works miracles today, and He will work miracles tomorrow."

Though repeated ad nauseum in nearly every testimony, lesson, and talk, these words are powerful. Equally powerful are the truths not said here, though they are implied:

- The imperfect world will fail you,

- People will ignore your potential and discredit your worth,

- Circumstances will change, sometimes for worse and not for better,

- People will forsake their promises, even their love,

...but your Heavenly Father doesn't. Your Heavenly Father won't.

President Nelson continues:

Faith takes work. Receiving revelation takes work. But “every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.” God knows what will help your faith grow. Ask, and then ask again.

Understanding Where You Stand

Do not minimize the faith you already have! Understand that while we are all walking the path of discipleship at different paces and on different terrains, we are all operating on faith already sufficient to move mountains. You may find that difficult to believe, but put aside your doubt for a moment and consider with me these real-life manifestations of faith sufficient to move mountains:

-There are some bearing scorn and slander...yet they pursue what is right even under intense and undue scrutiny.

- There are some experiencing setback after setback... yet they lift themselves up and always take the next best step.

- There are some enduring heartbreak and disappointment...yet they remain hopeful for positive relationships.

- There are some praying for the well-being of loved ones... yet they still get a disappointing answer.

- There are some watching family members leading ruinous lives... yet they exercise wisdom in extending a helping hand, or courage when they must leave.

- There are some living with crippling mental and physical limitations... yet they provide a source of strength and inspiration for others.

- There are some interacting with imperfect people with imperfect views... yet they maintain a firm conviction in their belief.

- There are some hearing the rumblings of pundits and professionals... yet they continue to listen and sustain divinely appointed prophets and apostles.

- There are some suffering the consequences of someone else’s hatred, vitriol, and disdain... yet they turn the other cheek and opt for a higher path.

Faith is all these things, yet still knowing that Christ remains a constant, edifying power that encourages and sustains us.

It is my testimony, that we already possess a faith powerful enough to move mountains. Much like the mustard seed, faith does not grow in monumental spurts and pageantry. Rather, it sprouts with careful nurturing. It blooms and fades with the changing of seasons. It builds strength one miniscule fiber at a time. Without your even noticing it, you one day will look back and see leveled mounds of dirt and stone where mountains once stood.

Learn of Christ and His miracles. Choose to believe in Him through which all things are made possible. Act in harmony with His gospel teachings. Unleash the powers of heaven through gospel ordinances. Ask, and then ask again. Only then will you perceive the powerful and un-heralded process of mountains being moved.