Of Mistakes and Mercy

I avoid making mistakes. I don't make bad grades; I don't get tickets; I don't break the rules. This makes life a little bit difficult...it's a high standard to hold.

I made a mistake this week. Mistakes that involve grades or cars or petty rules are one thing. But mistakes involving people? That hurts.

Only two weeks into my new area, and I seriously offended a less-active woman. She called me on the phone to tell me about it. She told me that she felt judged, that I had no right, that actions like mine are the sort that keep people like her away from the church.

Whew.

She was right. I was wrong. I've never felt so  miserable in my life! I listened and apologized. I cried; I couldn't help myself. Hurting people doesn't feel good. Trying to be a disciple of Jesus Christ and accidentally finding oneself in the wrong is devastating.

It reminded me of another mistake I made once.

I don't remember the details so much as the moral of the story. I was maybe ten, and my sister was fourteen--a sensitive age. It was bedtime, and I was calling her names and attacking her verbally. I wanted her to put up a fight (what the heck was I dong?), but instead she cried, hung her head, and went downstairs to sleep in the spare bedroom. Two minutes later, there were loud footsteps coming up the stairs.

My blood ran chill. Those were Dad's footsteps, and He was coming to kill me. I knew it! What I had done was wrong. And he was going to kill me.

He didn't. He looked sad. He said my name, and I hid under my covers expecting the worst. It  didn't come. He invited me to come downstairs where my sister was waiting. He knelt on the ground and invited us to pray with him. I don't recall the prayer, but I know that there was peace, and reconciliation. I know that there was mercy.

That is the moral of the story.

For every bad grade, for every ticket, for every broken rule, there is mercy. For every broken heart, for every hurt sister, for every foolish, less-active-offending missionary, there is mercy.

When I went to church on Sunday, God orchestrated a reconciliation. The woman whom I hurt came in late and slipped into the row in front of me. My heart pounded for the entire hour, but I tapped her on the shoulder after the meeting, and we hugged. I listened and apologized again. It will take some time, I think, but there is mercy.

That is what I learn from the scriptures. Whereas I make mistakes and think, "Heavenly Father is going to kill me," He finds ample opportunity to tell me that there is mercy for every mistake. "My arm is stretched out still," He says.

Yea, for thus saith the Lord: have I put thee away, or have I cast thee off forever?...Oh house of Israel is my hand shortened at all that it cannot redeem, or have I no power to deliver?...I will be merciful unto my people. (2 Nephi 7:1-2; 23:22)

Missionary Broadcast

The Missionary Broadcast this week, Sunday, June 23, will feature the OKC Mission!
http://www.lds.org/church/events/the-work-of-salvation-missionary-broadcast?cid=HPL2P05W01025

Numbers

A wise college president once said that nothing worthwhile in life can be measured in numbers. Math has never been my forte, so truisms like this give me hope.

Missionaries report numbers every week--our local leaders look at our "key indicators" and compile them for the General Authorities. The numbers exist to show us where to place our efforts, and to provide personal accountability. We report numbers of new investigators, lessons taught with members present, less-actives at church, and baptisms.

In my last area, numbers were easy. There was something gratifying about seeing high digits on the chalkboard during district meeting, and sometimes I looked at the low numbers of other companionships and wondered what they were doing all week. ("Lazy" was my assumption.)

God loves me enough to make me humble.

My numbers have become the dismally low numbers that I once scoffed. And now God is teaching me how to BE a missionary rather than just looking the part.

Our desperation for new investigators has led us to rely on the Spirit and to set might goals! Now we teach and testify at every door rather than offering a measly, "Could we return and share a message?" We are teaching our members the doctrine of Christ and inviting them to engage in missionary work. We are listening better, studying harder, and loving more sincerely.

And though the numbers don't show it, the Spirit whispers that God is pleased. He is working miracles in us even when we feel unfruitful. In the words of Elder Tad Callister, "power comes with consecration, not numbers."

Laban and Lemuel were troubled by numbers when they exclaimed that their enemy could command 50, whereas God was only one--what could He do against so many? (1 Nephi 3:1)

God's math is better than mine.

The numbers may not show it, but my heart is in it. And I am glad to know that to God, I am more than a number. I am His child, a number worth counting. The worth of my soul is great.

Delightsome People

"As many as shall believe in Christ shall also become a delightsome people."  2 Nephi 30:7

I need to pay tribute to the Christians of Oklahoma. I know that I am sent forth to teach others, but sometimes I can't help being taught of them.

In a recent visit, Elder Anderson counseled us to ask Oklahomans about their faith in Christ. This question has opened up a world of goodwill and spiritual instruction! They might say no to our invitation to pray. They might refuse our cards. But these marvelous, believing people can't resist an opportunity to testify!

On Friday evening we sat on the lawn and chatted with five Apostolic Christians, and it was one of the happiest evenings of my life. They understand the doctrine of Christ! Their lifestyle is impressively similar to ours. We prayed together and compared scriptural verses. We shared tears and testimony. What we have in common is so much more than what differs. And what we have in common is Jesus Christ.

Nephi called it: they are a delightsome people!

Dear God, thanks for sending me to the Bible belt.  :)

Lawton, Oklahoma

Lawton, Oklahoma is, in a word, lovely. Mind you, most of the people that I meet whilst tracting are either felons or high on meth...but still. LOVELY. It is a slow town with blinking red stop lights and a highly charismatic ward. We're located on a military base, Fort Sill, so our ward members are from all over the world. The most interesting character I have met is "Ashley," formerly known as Brother Fritz." He was once in the bishopric, and now he is a transgendered woman. Fascinating.

My new companion is incredible! She is a biology major at Utah State, a Vernal-raised farm girl. She loves to harmonize, so we spend our days singing to each other and looking for miracles. She loves absolutely everyone we meet, and she is trying to become a bold missionary (something that I have mastered, strangely enough). I am constantly finding sticky notes with kind things written on them-she leaves these little pick-me-ups in my journal, on cereal boxes, in my drawers.

The area was a mess when I arrived! My fist task during lunch and breakfast breaks was to take down the Christmas tree and to clean our nasty apartment. We are also revamping our missionary focus (they only had two progressing investigators, so we're on the quest to find more!). We are the only sisters in the zone, and we love our goofy elders.

Lawton is ablaze with promise. Grateful to be here!

Six Months

May 28, 2013

Perfect Picture of My Life Right Now

http://www.mormonnewsroom.org/article/mormons-other-groups-work-together-oklahoma-tornado-cleanup

 I know and love all of those yellow shirts! That's my stake president, my AP, my fellow-missionaries,and my Village ward members! 

This is my life. When I consider the enormity of the task and the beauty of the work, all I can conclude is that God must love me.