Sarrah Turner tells me that only nerds read the Bible Dictionary. So I'm a nerd. So was Peter Parker. Nerds have a well-established reputation for greatness.
Now that my social status has been established, you can trust me as a legitimate lover of scriptures! The Bible Dictionary states that miracles are based upon three prerequisites:
1. Prayer
2. Felt Need
3. Faith
Prayer is easy. We pray when we leave the apartment, when we leave the car, at meals, during planning, after planning, before miracles, after miracles, before bed, and when we wake up in the morning.
Felt need is also easy. I'm surrounded by needy people all day long. They're tired, they're crabby, they're discouraged, they're deceived. They're hungry and impatient and hurt. In every instance, they are in need. They need saving from provincial cares and mortal burdens.
Superpower
Faith takes a little more trust, but it is the magical component that hastens the miracles. There is a phrase used in academics. They say that "What is perceived to be real is real in its effect." It is the self-fulfilling prophecy, the potent power of symbolic interaction-ism. Perception (ie: faith) is everything. No longer left to Cindy Lou-Who and other holiday-loving folk, I suspect that faith is the fire that drew Abraham Lincoln through the Civil War. It is the key to greatness and accomplishment.
This is no less impressive than the stuff of comic strips and action films. We have a fearsome enemy, a valiant captain, and a divine sense of identity in our miracle-making endeavors.
I feel like Spiderman mastering my webs. Or Batman putting the finishing touches on his mobile. There is a power in faith unlike anything that I have ever imagined. It's super-human in quality, something that only Marvel films and comic strips acknowledge. The soul that longs to minister will be made heroic through faith in Jesus Christ.
The True Hero
Jesus Christ is the true Hero, the original Hercules. Half-deity, He came. Human so that He could empathize, Godly so He could save, motivated only by the people He was sent to rescue.
He read an Isaiac verse and then brought it to life in His own good life:
"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because he hath anointed me to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind..." (Luke 4:18)
Do you sense the heroism? There were no capes or crowds, and his side-kicks were simple fishermen, but in Him we have the archetypal Hero, the only true Savior of mankind.
"...to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness..." (Isaiah 61:1-3)
To the Rescue!
When we claim discipleship, His quest becomes our own. We engage in amateur heroism! We must heal the broken-hearted and give joy where there is mourning, praise where there is heaviness. When we exercise faith in someone else's behalf, we see miracles.
So don your spiritual cape, make you a mask, and join me in the ministry! With faith as our power and Jesus Christ as our example, we can rescue distressed damsels and would-be villains.
Where there is felt need, we add our faith and prayer. And the Bible Dictionary assures us that this recipe, properly cooked, yields miracles. This my friend, is amateur heroics.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Apron Strings Ministry
My father assures me that the way to a man's heart is through the stomach.
I can't verify this (my platonic lifestyle doesn't currently provide opportunities to experiment with the theory), but I am learning a closely related truth: the way to anyone's heart is through the stomach! Food is one of the most convincing evidences of God's love, and a critical element of successful missionary work.
President Monson recently related a story** of a woman who received homemade bread in answer to a personal prayer. We saw this very story play out in OKC 2nd ward this week, but with banana pudding! Sister Bartly* a recently reactivated Native American woman (and one of our finest meal advocates), came down with a nasty stomach bug. She texted us and said that "nanner puddin" was the only thing that sounded palatable. It was Sunday and we were pinched for time, but something in our sisterly hearts longed to give her what she desired. She feeds us every week, and we dearly wanted to return the favor.
The light bulb clicked on instantly. Sister Martel*, our widow neighbor, had been talking about making banana pudding for us for days! Coincidence? We thought not. So we called Sister Martel and she was delighted to be the answer to someone's prayer. Within 30 minutes we were delivering a "nanner puddin" miracle to Sister Bartly. From one sister to another, just the way her mama made it. "God does notice us, and He watches over us. But it is usually through another person that He meets our needs." (President Spencer W. Kimball)
In a second instance of culinary compassion, a gift of food gave legitimacy to our message of Heavenly manna.
On Saturday we taught one of the most convincing lessons on the Atonement that I have ever witnessed. What made the difference between this lesson and every other lesson about the Savior's love? With 14 months of practice, you'd think it would be words or content or inspired questions. Nope. It wasn't me or my companion at all. It was a simple meal, delivered by the Relief Society, to our investigator's ailing sister.
Over and over Carilynn* exclaimed about the simple act of compassion. It was "so unexpected, so unasked for, so unprecedented!" What better to teach about the unexpected, unasked for, unprecedented love of Jesus Christ? Dinner was the essential prerequisite for our investigator to trust in the grace of Jesus Christ.
When Jesus admonished his disciples to feed his sheep (John 21:16), and to care for the hungry (Matt 25:37; Mosiah 4:26), he meant it spiritually. But over and over I have seen this spiritual feeding take powerful physical form.
It is my favorite missionary tool and one that is easily accessible for each of us. What can be done for our non-progressing investigators? Cinnamon rolls. And for the inactive young woman? Frozen yogurt. For the overworked bishop? A casserole. Unexpected, unasked for, unprecedented.
I am a missionary, and it is in my blood to invite you, my darling reading audience, to ACT on my message. I promise that you will learn the truth of this message for yourself through prayer and experience! So here is my 3-step challenge:
1. Bake a plate of cookies. If you're classier than cookies, go for a full meal. If cooking isn't your style, then buy two Crunchwrap Supremes instead of one next time you grace the Taco Bell drive-through.
2. Pray. Ask which little sheep God wants you to feed. The name will probably come easily, because you have been thinking about them or wondering about them already. It's the new move-in or that primary kid who never comes to church. It might even be someone you've never met before. Whoever comes to mind, go with it.
3. Deliver & minister. Don't do a drive-by. Don't write a note. Deliver it in person, or have them over for dinner. Buy them lunch. Whatever you do, feed the whole soul, not just the stomach, for this is the Lord's chosen way.
4. Bonus points if you write to me and tell me how it went!! Follow-up is my favorite, and the letters are a little slow these days:
Sister Jennifer Stewart
Oklahoma OKC Mission
416 SW 79th St Ste 210
Oklahoma City, OK 73139
* Names changed
**http://www.lds.org/prophets-and-apostles/unto-all-the-world/we-never-walk-alone?lang=eng
I can't verify this (my platonic lifestyle doesn't currently provide opportunities to experiment with the theory), but I am learning a closely related truth: the way to anyone's heart is through the stomach! Food is one of the most convincing evidences of God's love, and a critical element of successful missionary work.
President Monson recently related a story** of a woman who received homemade bread in answer to a personal prayer. We saw this very story play out in OKC 2nd ward this week, but with banana pudding! Sister Bartly* a recently reactivated Native American woman (and one of our finest meal advocates), came down with a nasty stomach bug. She texted us and said that "nanner puddin" was the only thing that sounded palatable. It was Sunday and we were pinched for time, but something in our sisterly hearts longed to give her what she desired. She feeds us every week, and we dearly wanted to return the favor.
The light bulb clicked on instantly. Sister Martel*, our widow neighbor, had been talking about making banana pudding for us for days! Coincidence? We thought not. So we called Sister Martel and she was delighted to be the answer to someone's prayer. Within 30 minutes we were delivering a "nanner puddin" miracle to Sister Bartly. From one sister to another, just the way her mama made it. "God does notice us, and He watches over us. But it is usually through another person that He meets our needs." (President Spencer W. Kimball)
In a second instance of culinary compassion, a gift of food gave legitimacy to our message of Heavenly manna.
On Saturday we taught one of the most convincing lessons on the Atonement that I have ever witnessed. What made the difference between this lesson and every other lesson about the Savior's love? With 14 months of practice, you'd think it would be words or content or inspired questions. Nope. It wasn't me or my companion at all. It was a simple meal, delivered by the Relief Society, to our investigator's ailing sister.
Over and over Carilynn* exclaimed about the simple act of compassion. It was "so unexpected, so unasked for, so unprecedented!" What better to teach about the unexpected, unasked for, unprecedented love of Jesus Christ? Dinner was the essential prerequisite for our investigator to trust in the grace of Jesus Christ.
When Jesus admonished his disciples to feed his sheep (John 21:16), and to care for the hungry (Matt 25:37; Mosiah 4:26), he meant it spiritually. But over and over I have seen this spiritual feeding take powerful physical form.
It is my favorite missionary tool and one that is easily accessible for each of us. What can be done for our non-progressing investigators? Cinnamon rolls. And for the inactive young woman? Frozen yogurt. For the overworked bishop? A casserole. Unexpected, unasked for, unprecedented.
I am a missionary, and it is in my blood to invite you, my darling reading audience, to ACT on my message. I promise that you will learn the truth of this message for yourself through prayer and experience! So here is my 3-step challenge:
1. Bake a plate of cookies. If you're classier than cookies, go for a full meal. If cooking isn't your style, then buy two Crunchwrap Supremes instead of one next time you grace the Taco Bell drive-through.
2. Pray. Ask which little sheep God wants you to feed. The name will probably come easily, because you have been thinking about them or wondering about them already. It's the new move-in or that primary kid who never comes to church. It might even be someone you've never met before. Whoever comes to mind, go with it.
3. Deliver & minister. Don't do a drive-by. Don't write a note. Deliver it in person, or have them over for dinner. Buy them lunch. Whatever you do, feed the whole soul, not just the stomach, for this is the Lord's chosen way.
4. Bonus points if you write to me and tell me how it went!! Follow-up is my favorite, and the letters are a little slow these days:
Sister Jennifer Stewart
Oklahoma OKC Mission
416 SW 79th St Ste 210
Oklahoma City, OK 73139
* Names changed
**http://www.lds.org/prophets-and-apostles/unto-all-the-world/we-never-walk-alone?lang=eng
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Milagros
I am so happy.
On February 12th of last year, my trainer called President Taylor to counsel with him because I wanted to go home. I was sure that I couldn't do this anymore.
I never want to go to that dark place again, so I have been praying since August for divine aid to take me through February 2014. These three gifts stand out to me as merciful details that only a perfect Father could orchestrate in my behalf:
1. No transfers! I am still here in my quaint little organized apartment with my own bathroom. These details matter. They make a Jenny sane. I know the area, and I love the ward. I know my social and spiritual resources, and I know my limits. I am comfortable settled into a pleasing daily ritual. I know who I am, and I know what to expect.
2. Hermana Dupape. She is 20 years old, from Seattle, Washington. She wears a masked Batman onesie to bed and cooks Mexican food for lunch. (I should mention here that she is caucasian, but deeply enamored with all things Hispanic.) She misses the Spanish branch, so she coaches me through a chapter of the Book of Mormon in Spanish every day. And most of all, she believes in miracles. Her faith in Jesus Christ and in the converting power of the gospel is without limit.
3. The temple. How ironic that my second temple trip of the mission is on February 12th, the one-year anniversary of my lowest point of the mission. Big alligator tears slipped out of my eyes when I recognized that God was arranging for me to be a guest in His home on the very day that I worried about the most. I told myself that I could count myself victorious if I made it to February 12th.
So even though it's cloudy and the temperatures are in the teens, I am happy. I hesitate to quote the hymn, but there's simply no better way to say it: there is sunshine in my soul today!
Oh, and our library security guard? He came to church with his wife yesterday. They stayed all three hours. and tonight they are feeding us and the elders. And then we will teach them a Plan of Salvation that will change their lives.
Genta*? She also came to church. I hadn't even mentioned her in letters because I thought she'd never come. Betsy Crockett*, our weekly less-active visitee of the last six months? She was there too. These are the miracles of February.
God loves us. I learned a word in Spanish that I think we all need to apply this week:
Milagros.
Miracles!
As you look for work and serve in your callings, please know that I believes in miracles. Milagros. It is simply a divine display of Fatherly affection.
*Changed names. Hermana Dupape needs no pseudonym. If she discovers this blog entry someday, she can know how much I love her.
On February 12th of last year, my trainer called President Taylor to counsel with him because I wanted to go home. I was sure that I couldn't do this anymore.
I never want to go to that dark place again, so I have been praying since August for divine aid to take me through February 2014. These three gifts stand out to me as merciful details that only a perfect Father could orchestrate in my behalf:
1. No transfers! I am still here in my quaint little organized apartment with my own bathroom. These details matter. They make a Jenny sane. I know the area, and I love the ward. I know my social and spiritual resources, and I know my limits. I am comfortable settled into a pleasing daily ritual. I know who I am, and I know what to expect.
2. Hermana Dupape. She is 20 years old, from Seattle, Washington. She wears a masked Batman onesie to bed and cooks Mexican food for lunch. (I should mention here that she is caucasian, but deeply enamored with all things Hispanic.) She misses the Spanish branch, so she coaches me through a chapter of the Book of Mormon in Spanish every day. And most of all, she believes in miracles. Her faith in Jesus Christ and in the converting power of the gospel is without limit.
3. The temple. How ironic that my second temple trip of the mission is on February 12th, the one-year anniversary of my lowest point of the mission. Big alligator tears slipped out of my eyes when I recognized that God was arranging for me to be a guest in His home on the very day that I worried about the most. I told myself that I could count myself victorious if I made it to February 12th.
So even though it's cloudy and the temperatures are in the teens, I am happy. I hesitate to quote the hymn, but there's simply no better way to say it: there is sunshine in my soul today!
Oh, and our library security guard? He came to church with his wife yesterday. They stayed all three hours. and tonight they are feeding us and the elders. And then we will teach them a Plan of Salvation that will change their lives.
Genta*? She also came to church. I hadn't even mentioned her in letters because I thought she'd never come. Betsy Crockett*, our weekly less-active visitee of the last six months? She was there too. These are the miracles of February.
God loves us. I learned a word in Spanish that I think we all need to apply this week:
Milagros.
Miracles!
As you look for work and serve in your callings, please know that I believes in miracles. Milagros. It is simply a divine display of Fatherly affection.
*Changed names. Hermana Dupape needs no pseudonym. If she discovers this blog entry someday, she can know how much I love her.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Library Rules
We must remember that those mortals we meet in parking lots, offices, elevators, and elsewhere are that portion of mankind God has given us to love and to serve. ~President Spencer W. Kimball
The elders warned us that we are never allowed to proselyte to the library staff. Previous missionaries have been kicked out for such conduct. But still, we see them every P-day, and they're always so nice. What's a girl to do?
He started it. He introduced himself as Tom*, so we told him who we were. And he's a real chatty-kathy, so we just listened. Eventually he worked the conversation towards spirituality (it's not hard to do when we're wearing name tags that proclaim Jesus Christ), and it all went smoothly from there.
Would you believe it? The library security guard is Mormon! He was baptized on Temple Square over 20 years ago, and he says that he still believes it even though he's not active. Missionaries might have known it sooner, were it not for the library rules.
Something possessed me. I blame it on hunger. Sister Ellis says I had my sassy pants on. Whatever the case, I boldly invited Tom to church. That failed, so I asked when we could expect an invitation to dinner. BINGO! It is contrary to everything my mother ever taught me to invite myself to dinner, but it is a delightfully fruitful deviant behavior.
Tom and his dear wife Ann* hosted the three of us to a lovely Sunday dinner last night. The table was set with their Christmas dinnerware, and they encouraged us to eat first, second, and third helpings. We ate for an hour, and then they kept us for two hours more. We taught Ann the message of the Restoration, and then they drilled us with questions.
Polygamy, sacred garments, and temple worthiness have never been discussed in more genial tones! Characteristically abrasive questions were benign. Sister Ellis responded to a query about "holy underwear" by declaring, "Are you kidding me? These things are brand new! I don't have holes in my underwear!"
I love Tom and Ann. We have a return appointment for next Monday.
All because someone broke the library rules.
* Will the dear gentleman ever read this? Most likely not. But out of courtesy, I've given him a nice generic alias. And another for his lovely wife.
The elders warned us that we are never allowed to proselyte to the library staff. Previous missionaries have been kicked out for such conduct. But still, we see them every P-day, and they're always so nice. What's a girl to do?
He started it. He introduced himself as Tom*, so we told him who we were. And he's a real chatty-kathy, so we just listened. Eventually he worked the conversation towards spirituality (it's not hard to do when we're wearing name tags that proclaim Jesus Christ), and it all went smoothly from there.
Would you believe it? The library security guard is Mormon! He was baptized on Temple Square over 20 years ago, and he says that he still believes it even though he's not active. Missionaries might have known it sooner, were it not for the library rules.
Something possessed me. I blame it on hunger. Sister Ellis says I had my sassy pants on. Whatever the case, I boldly invited Tom to church. That failed, so I asked when we could expect an invitation to dinner. BINGO! It is contrary to everything my mother ever taught me to invite myself to dinner, but it is a delightfully fruitful deviant behavior.
Tom and his dear wife Ann* hosted the three of us to a lovely Sunday dinner last night. The table was set with their Christmas dinnerware, and they encouraged us to eat first, second, and third helpings. We ate for an hour, and then they kept us for two hours more. We taught Ann the message of the Restoration, and then they drilled us with questions.
Polygamy, sacred garments, and temple worthiness have never been discussed in more genial tones! Characteristically abrasive questions were benign. Sister Ellis responded to a query about "holy underwear" by declaring, "Are you kidding me? These things are brand new! I don't have holes in my underwear!"
I love Tom and Ann. We have a return appointment for next Monday.
All because someone broke the library rules.
* Will the dear gentleman ever read this? Most likely not. But out of courtesy, I've given him a nice generic alias. And another for his lovely wife.
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