Jesus-Plus

"The Atonement is not something that happens at the end of lives; the Atonement is something that happens every day of our lives." Sister Oaks

We teach with the intent to instruct, but realize halfway through that we are the ones being instructed.

I thought I knew about the grace of Jesus Christ until I met Mindy. "I don't believe in a Jesus-plus doctrine," she explained. "God loves me because Jesus died for me, and that's all there is to it."

Yikes! No baptism, no righteous living, no church attendance required? This is not what a Mormon missionary wants to hear from an investigator. It speaks dangerously of lack of commitment and self-justifying sin. But Mindy attends church, she believes in baptism, and she lives a life above reproach. How, then, could she mean what she said?

Amulek says that Christ is "the whole meaning of the law" (Alma 34:14). Apparently he and Mindy know something that I have been missing.

Fast-forward to yesterday afternoon. Sister Stewart fails in her attempt to be perfect. Never mind what happened--you can fill in the blank with your own biting imperfection. How does this overzealous missionary react? She gets a little gloomy. Avoids eye contact. Beats herself up, and bites back tears. Stops thinking of others because she is rather consumed with her own imperfect self. In short, she forgets that the grace of Christ is available "immediately" and that "the day of her salvation is now" (Alma 34:21).
That is not the Atonement in action. That is "Jesus-plus" doctrine.

I thought about Mindy this morning in the aftermath of my gloom. "How can the Savior's Atonement help me in this moment?" I asked myself. Or am I waiting on some kind of "Jesus-plus doctrine?" By beating myself up, I am saying in essence, "God will love me when I have made everything right," or "I can only be happy once the problem is solved," or "I will be a good missionary once I stop making ridiculous mistakes."

That is Jesus-plus doctrine, and it is a lie.

Truth restored! God loves me enough to help me in the making-right process. He loves me enough to grant me peace of mind when things around me seem to unravel despite by best efforts. Enough to help me forgive myself. To help me be happy in the craziness of today rather than waiting perpetually for the unreachable happy tomorrow.

There is rest for the weary perfectionist. Cognitively, it makes no sense to me that Christ's burden is easy or his load light while I am still so flawed and the tasks at hand so weighty (Matt 11:28-30). But I feel my burden lifted today. And I am grateful to know that Jesus Christ is enough. No more "Jesus-plus" doctrine.

Righteous living will follow my faith. Perfection is in the works. But for today God gives me the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the promise of a mercy. And I am grateful.

From The Mouths of Babes

Sean Moon* is 9 years old, legally bind, sharp as a whip (mentally), and unabashedly overactive. He is the son of a less-active family that I rather adore. And this weekend, he was baptized.

After several weeks of fun-filled lesson planning -- playing "president Monson says" to teach follow the prophet, walking through the Plan of Salvation in life size, and teaching chastity with a rather humorous but surprisingly effective turtle shell analogy --he finally took the dip that he has long been waiting for.

His father performed the baptism, and the ward members arrived in throngs  These two facts alone were miracles. "But where two things exist, there is greater above them still," says Abraham. and so it was with his baptismal service! His recently-baptized uncle gave a beautiful talk in which he amply quoted the Book of Mormon. Then 9 year-old Scott asked to give a few words at the pulpit, and he proceeded to instruct the group of adults and missionaries about the importance of studying the scriptures and the verity of the resurrection (this is significant to him because he is blind and dearly wants to see). He had the elders laughing and the old women crying! And, best of all, he taught them the doctrine of Christ from memory!! I couldn't be happier.

From the mouths of babes, indeed.

Young Lions

Tornado season approaches, and with it a storm of new missionaries! Many Oklahoma City missionaries are taking on new responsibilities in response to the influx of young missionaries. i was overwhelmed and excited when  my mission president asked me to train a new missionary even though I have only been out for eleven weeks. It is amazing to watch my 19 year-old companion work miracles! She prayed with two ministers on her very first afternoon of proselyting, and we taught six new  investigators and set two baptismal dates during her first week. I doubt that she know how powerful she is, but I find it thrilling to watch the hastening of the work from an insider's perspective.

These young missionaries seem to me a fulfillment of Isaiah's prophesy, as related by the Savior in Third Nephi 20:16 --"Then shall ye, who are a remnant of the house of Jacob, go forth among them; and ye shall be in the midst of them who shall be many: and ye shall be among them as a lion among the beasts of the forest, and as a young lion among the flocks of sheep, who, if he goeth through both treadeth down and teareth in pieces, and none can deliver." Isaiah's poetry makes missionary work sound rather violent, but my eager young companion said it well when she proclaimed, "We are going to tear this area apart!"

And that is what we are striving to do.

Lessons Learned

Wednesday, March 6th, 2013, was a significant day in the Oklahoma City Mission. The first batch of young missionaries with shortened MTC training strode through the terminals and into the quivering arms of their equally frightened trainers.

Two transfers ago, I was the one to alight from the airplane into the mysterious world of Oklahoma city. God, with all his humor and grace, saw fit this time to number me among the quivering trainers.

Ah. And I know things now that I did not know five days ago:

1. Mornings are hard. They might always be. The pillow is more comforting than the worried guests of budding consciousness...but I got up yesterday, so I'll do it again today. Andy by the end of the day, I'm usually glad that I did.

2. Time is short. Maybe it always will be. But I have a Heavenly Father who is willing to teach me how to accomplish eternal aims with mortal capacities. I can't see everything, but He can. So He shows me who to focus on.

3. I can use a map. A Liahona would be better (even a GPS would suffice), but muscling through cardinal directions and dog-eared maps and old ward lists is far more exciting. It is a miracle that we ever arrive to our dinner appointments on time!



4. Not all baptisms result in tsunamis. There wasn't a flood this time, except in a spiritual sense. The symbol of immersion seemed so appropriate for a man who has completely surrendered himself to the gospel of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

5. Nineteen year-olds are phenomenal...or at least Sister Tilley is! We went tracting first thing, and she prayed with two ministers and taught a Jehovah's Witness about the Book of Mormon. She made me scrambled eggs for breakfast, and she is already an expert at the never-ending paperwork. I think I needed Sister Tilley in my life.

6. I am not perfect God doesn't mind.

"Successful living is successful struggling. Our own highly individualized responses to struggles--both spiritually and psychologically--teach us who we are and what to think about ourselves."--p. 13 Bednar, Spirituality & Self-Esteem

Messy Car Miracles

Two weeks ago. My OCD gets the better of me and I organize the apartment  We give a stack of Spanish Books of Mormon to the Hermanas. They find a French Book of Mormon in the stack, laugh at my obvious linguistic inadequacies, and discard the book on the back seat of our car. Despite our clean habits, the French book remains on the back seat of the car for days, the lone misplaced object in an otherwise-clean car.

Sunday morning. Romping around in boots and backpack to invite our investigators of yesterday to come to church. They aren't home (of course) and the people that we pass on our walk are highly unresponsive (as per usual) to our friendly words. I am beginning to feel discouraged.

Black man stretching his calves on the corner of or street. We stop and chat. Try the usual offer to pray. He says yes (the tide begins to change), and we pray  We ask about his relationship with God--seems an awkward question, but sometimes the Spirit is peculiar like that. For 20 minutes, Zeccharias from the Ivory Coast tells us about his life-long debate between his native Muslim faith and his learned Christian faith. His last sentence is as our open door. "And so I decided not to go to church at all. I am just waiting for someone to come to me."

We tell him that it is no coincidence that we are there. We are so bold as to think ourselves the messengers that he has been waiting for. We excitedly relate to him that we have a great gift to share.

And here we make a quick scramble through our backpacks for the ever-present floppy Books of Mormon. to our dismay, the search is futile. And so we walk with him back to our complex, where our car is full of Books of Mormon. During the course of our short walk, we describe the history of the Book of Mormon. He is eager to read it, and believes what we say about a living prophet. He is only visiting from New York, but he promises to read the book and to share it with his family. He gives us his number and then gets ours so we can reconvene in a few days.

We arrive at the car and Sister Goodfellow asks him what his native language is. "French," he says. And there, on the back seat, is a hardcover French Book of Mormon.

God works in mysterious ways.
How kind of Him to include us in His work!