Mormon Life - Trials tag

Trusting in the Lord’s timetable during trials

Fri, 27 Apr 2012 09:24:00 -0600

source: universe.byu.edu

The waiting game — it may be one of the most difficult things to swallow during our sojourn in mortality.

Yesterday, Women’s Conference participants had the opportunity to listen to the uplifting words of Michelle Brown and Janie Penfield who spoke on the issue of “Trusting in the Lord’s Timetable” in the JSB Auditorium. Both women spoke of the crucibles in their lives that have given them first-hand experience in trusting in Heavenly Father’s will for their lives.

FHE: Consecration

Mon, 26 Mar 2012 00:05:00 -0600

by Shauna Gibby
source: MormonLife.com

Mormon Life says: When we consecrate our lives to the Lord, we can persevere through any difficulty.

Conference Talk:

For more information on this topic read “A Witness,” by President Henry B. Eyring, Ensign, Nov 2011, 68.

Thought:

You can take courage as I do from the example . . . given us by Moroni. He was alone in his ministry. He knew the end of life was near for him. And yet . . . he wrote for the sake of people not yet born and the descendants of his mortal enemies

(President Henry B. Eyring, “A Witness,” Ensign, Nov 2011, 68.)

Scripture:

Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men. Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life.

(2 Nephi 31:20)

Object Lesson:

Materials Needed: Individually wrapped pieces of taffy and gum for each person.

Procedure: Give everyone in your group a piece of taffy, and let them begin eating it. While they eat the taffy, explain that many times something is expected of us, whether it be a task, an assignment, or simply a commitment to be true to the standards we have set for ourselves. We generally start out with a good effort. But after a while, pressures, problems, and obstacles find their way to us, and our efforts begin to dissolve—almost like the taffy that was eaten.

Hand out gum. As they chew it, explain that if we have consecrated our lives to the Lord we will persevere, even through the tough times. This is like the gum, no matter how many times they apply pressure and chew, the gum still remains.

(Beth Lefgren and Jennifer Jackson, Power Tools for Teaching, [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1988], p. 52.)

Story:

A few years ago I tried an experiment with a group of ten-year-olds I was teaching in Sunday School.

“You have a choice,” I announced as I held up a bowl of M&M’s. “You can either have a handful of M&M’s right now, or you can each have an entire bag of M&M’s tomorrow.”

“Why don’t we do it the other way around?” Brady suggested. “Give us a bag of M&M’s now or a handful tomorrow!”

The rest of the class loved Brady’s idea. But I didn’t.

“Nope,” I said. “A handful now or the bag tomorrow. That’s the way it’s going to be.”

“How about just a few now AND the rest later?” Megan asked.

“Sorry,” I said. “No compromise. You have to make a choice.”

“What if some of us want our M&M’s now, and some of us want to wait?” Adam asked. “Good idea,” I said. “But no. Whatever you’re going to do, you’re going to do it as a group.

You guys figure it out. I’m going to get a drink.”

With that I stepped into the hall and wandered down to the drinking fountain, making sure to pause and stretch and meander. I wanted to give them plenty of time to hash this out. We were, after all, talking about chocolate here. If there’s one thing twenty-nine years of marriage has taught me it’s that you have to be very careful about decisions involving chocolate—even if it’s the kind that melts in your mouth, not in your hands.

When I finally poked my head back into the room the decision had been made: the bowl of M&M’s was empty, and there were chocolate-induced smiles all around.

“Actually, it was pretty much a no-brainer,” Nancy said of the decision. “The hardest part was figuring out how to divide them up. The boys wanted to go first, but we didn’t want to take a chance on the boys actually touching the M&M’s before we got them. You never know where boys’ hands have been—you know?”

Nancy, I should mention, has brothers.

So one of the boys—out of respect for delicate feelings, I won’t say whose—arm-wrestled Nancy for the right to go first. I didn’t see the actual event, but I’m confident the end came surely and swiftly. Think “Harry Potter Meets Xena, Warrior Princess.” A battle of wits would have been competitive, but this wasn’t about brain power. This was about brute strength.

Advantage Nancy.

The next day when I came home from work, several of the kids from my class were hanging out on my front lawn.

“We were just sort of thinking that . . . you know . . . maybe we should have waited to get a whole bag of M&M’s today,” Brady said. “And we were sort of wondering . . . you know . . . if it is, like, too late to change our minds?”

I smiled. “Yeah, it is,” I said. “Sorry!”

“But the girls ate most of the M&M’s in the bowl,” Colton complained. “We hardly got any.”

“That’s too bad,” I said. “If you had waited, not only would you have received more M&M’s today than you got yesterday, but you would have received your own bag and you wouldn’t have had to worry about how to divide them. But you decided not to wait, so you’re pretty much stuck with what you got.”

They didn’t like that answer, but it brought new insight to our Bible class the next Sunday when we talked about how important it is to always stay focused on our ultimate, long-term goals and priorities no matter how alluring and intoxicating the diversions of Right Now may be.

You know, the story of Jacob, Laban, Leah, Rachel—and the M&M’s.

(Joseph Walker, Look What Love Has Done, [Salt Lake City: Shadow Mountain, 2007], p. 48.)

Activity:

Give everyone a copy of the following matching game. Have them match a person in the numbered column with an item in the lettered column. These people are all good examples of consecrated lives.

1. Nephi

2. Alma the Younger

3. Abinadi

4. Samuel the Lamanite

5. Captain Moroni

6. Enos

7. Moroni

8. Mormon

A. Fire

B. Sword of Laban

C. Prayed for forgiveness

D. Abridged the plates

E. Sons of Mosiah

F. Wall

G. Buried plates

H. Title of Liberty

Answers: 1-B; 2-E; 3-A; 4-F; 5-H; 6-C; 7-G; 8-D.

(Allan K. Burgess and Max H. Molgard, Fun for Family Night: Book of Mormon Edition, [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1990], p. 217.)

Refreshment

Strawberry Delight

Makes 10 servings

1 angel food cake

1 (3-ounce) package strawberry gelatin

1 1⁄4 cups boiling water

1 (10-ounce) package sliced frozen strawberries

1 tablespoon sugar

Dash of salt

1 cup whipped cream, whipped with 1 tablespoon sugar

Purchase or prepare an angel food cake. Cut cake into bite-sized pieces.

Dissolve gelatin in boiling water. Stir in strawberries, sugar, and salt. Cool until gelatin is thick and syrupy. Fold in whipped cream, reserving about 1⁄4 cup for garnish.

Place half the cake pieces into a 2- or 3-quart serving bowl. Pour half the strawberry cream mixture over cake. Add another layer of cake pieces and then remaining strawberry cream mixture. Refrigerate 1 to 2 hours or until set. Top each serving with a dollop of whipped cream.

(Lion House Cakes and Cupcakes, [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2011], p. 82.)

To access the PDF version of this lesson, click here.

FHE: Perspective

Mon, 19 Mar 2012 00:05:00 -0600

by Shauna Gibby
source: MormonLife.com

Mormon Life says: "If we spend our days waiting for fabulous roses, we could miss the beauty and wonder of the tiny forget-me-nots that are all around us." -Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Conference Talk:

For more information on this topic read “Forget Me Not,” by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Ensign, Nov. 2011, 120.

Thought:

If we spend our days waiting for fabulous roses, we could miss the beauty and wonder of the tiny forget-me-nots that are all around us.

(President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, “Forget Me Not,” Ensign, Nov. 2011, 120.)

Song:

“My Heavenly Father Loves Me,” Children’s Songbook, p. 229.

Scripture:

When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.

(Psalm 8:3–5)

Object Lesson:

Materials Needed: Several soft items and several hard items. (Example: cotton balls, feather, scarf, rock, stick, marble.)

Procedure: Display the items. Ask the family to arrange them into two groups: soft items and hard items.

Ask which senses were used to help with this task. (Sight, touch, etc.) Point out how quickly and skillfully they were able to discern the difference between the hard items and the soft ones. Explain that our senses help us discover and treasure the many different things around us. We enjoy the soft because we have seen and felt the hard, we enjoy sweet because we have tasted sour, etc.

(adapted from Beth Lefgren and Jennifer Jackson, Sharing Time, Family Time, Anytime, [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1992], p. 14.)

Stories:

The Parable of the Dandelions

One weekend my girls and I took a drive together. We passed through acres and acres of farmland. My eyes were drawn to the overwhelming number of dandelions that had taken over the fields. The green landscape was dotted with a mixture of bright yellow flowers and white, fluffy balls of seeds.

We had spent weeks trying to kill the dandelions in our own yard, and I thought about what a job that farmer would have trying to clear those weeds from his landscape.

My daughters saw something different: acres and acres of dandelion fluff just waiting to be blown from the stem.

A thousand weeds or a thousand wishes.

It’s all in your perspective.

My girls were able to discern something good in an object most of us view as an irritant or a bother. The lesson in this parable is so clearly defined: Our eyes see what we want them to see.

(Emily Freeman, Love Life and See Good Days, [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2011], p. 32.)

A Matter of Perspective

Shauna Gibby

During Christmas 2001, we had two sons serving missions. Our eldest, Curtis, had been in Maracaibo, Venezuela, for about twenty months, where the year-round average temperature is around 90 degrees. Our second son, Scott, was serving in Wellington, New Zealand, and had been there for just four months.

When Curtis telephoned us on Christmas day, he said that it had been quite cold in the remote mountain town where he was now serving. I asked him how cold it was, and he said that yesterday it had gotten down to 74 degrees! We laughed at that and told him he was going to be in big trouble when he came home to Utah if he thought 74 was cold.

An hour later we were talking to Scott. He had survived an unusually cool, wet spring and said he was glad it was finally summer there. He remarked that it was hot there now. I asked him how hot it was. He exclaimed that yesterday it had been 74 degrees!

(Sunshine for the Humorous Latter-day Saint Soul, [Salt Lake City: Eagle Gate, 2002], p. 176.)

Activity:

Give everyone a pencil and the following scrambled words. Have them decipher the actual words.

iepattn

eciedfrenf

pyaph

gurdeatit aublfueti rtgefo pgelos odvlebe

(Answers: patient, difference, happy, gratitude, beautiful, forget, gospel, beloved.)

Refreshment

Chocolate Rolo® Cookies

1 (18.25-ounce) chocolate cake mix, any variety

1⁄2 cup butter or margarine, softened

1 egg

1 (13-ounce) package Rolo® candies

Heat oven to 375 degrees F.

In a large bowl, mix together cake mix, butter, and egg. It will seem dry but keep mixing. Form dough around a Rolo® and make into a ball that just covers the Rolo®. Place on a greased or sprayed cookie sheet and bake 9 to 10 minutes. Do not overbake!

Makes 41⁄2 to 5 dozen cookies.

(Janet Peterson, Remedies for the “I Don’t Cook” Syndrome, [Salt Lake City: Eagle Gate, 2001], p. 279.)

To access the PDF version of this lesson, click here.

God Will Lift Us Up

Tue, 06 Mar 2012 00:17:00 -0700

source: radio.lds.org

FHE: Experience

Mon, 23 Jan 2012 00:05:00 -0700

by Shauna Gibby
source: MormonLife.com

Mormon Life says: Every experience we have in life will strengthen and improve us - if we allow it. Conference Talk:
For more information on this topic read “Waiting Upon the Lord,” by Elder Robert D. Hales, Ensign, Nov 2011, 71.

Thought:
The purpose of our life on earth is to grow, develop, and be strengthened through our own experiences.

(Elder Robert D. Hales, “Waiting Upon the Lord,” Ensign, Nov 2011, 71.)

Song:
“Seek the Lord Early,” Children’s Songbook, p. 108.

Scripture:
Know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good. (Doctrine and Covenants 122:7)

Story:
On October 27, 1838, Governor Lilburn B. Boggs, heeding the false accusations of many apostates and enemies of the church, ordered, “The Mormons must be treated as enemies and must be exterminated or driven from the State, if necessary for the public good.” Three days later was the massacre at Haun’s Mill. By October 31 state militias had surrounded Far West, outnumbering the Saints five to one. Colonel Hinkle, the commanding officer for the Saints, betrayed the prophet and other church leaders by convincing them that General Lucas of the militia wanted to meet with them in a peace conference. Once they met the General, Hinkle surrendered them as prisoners.

On the night of November 1, 1838, an illegal court was held where the prisoners were not invited. The court sentenced Joseph and his companions to be shot in the Far West town square at eight o’clock the next morning. General Doniphan refused to carry out the sentence saying, “It is cold-blooded murder. I will not obey your order, and if you execute those men, I will hold you responsible before an earthly tribunal, so help me God!” This courageous action saved their lives. Joseph Smith and the others were then taken from one jail to another until settling in Liberty Jail for five months. It was in this setting that the Prophet wrote an important letter from which sections 121, 122, and 123 are taken. Of this letter, Joseph Fielding Smith wrote:

“It is a prayer and a prophecy and an answer by revelation from the Lord. None other but a noble soul filled with the spirit of love of Christ could have Conference Talk: written such a letter. Considering the fact that these prisoners had been confined several months; were fed on food at times not fit for a pig, and at times impregnated with poison and once being offered human flesh, evidently from the body of one of their brethren, it is no wonder that the Prophet cried out in the anguish of his soul for relief. Yet, in his earnest pleading, there breathed a spirit of tolerance and love for his fellow man. . . . It was his people for whom he pled, more than for himself.” (Church History and Modern Revelation, 3:197.) Watch for how differently the Lord views our troubles from the way we view them.

(Dennis H. Leavitt and Richard O. Christensen, Scripture Study for Latter-day Saint Families: The Doctrine and Covenants, [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2004], p. 268.)

Lesson:
Ask family members to think of and share one of their greatest trials. Read together the story above and the section heading to D&C 121. Compare the trials mentioned by family members with those of Joseph and ask:

• When a person is suffering a great trial, what kind of questions might they ask of God?
• What kinds of questions do you think Joseph Smith might have asked of God?

Invite someone to read D&C 121:1–3 aloud and have your family identify and mark each question Joseph asked. Ask:

• What questions does Joseph ask instead of “why”?
• In what way might asking God “Why?” show a lack of trust in Him or even accuse God of not being there when needed?
• How do questions like, “Where art thou” and “How long,” show more faith than asking, “Why”?

Read together D&C 121:4–6 and look for what Joseph requested of the Lord. Ask:

• Who is Joseph requesting the most help for?
• What does it teach us about Joseph’s heart that he prays for others more than for himself?

Encourage your family to remember others during their prayers and challenge them to trust that God has a purpose behind the trials we are given.

(Dennis H. Leavitt and Richard O. Christensen, Scripture Study for Latter-day Saint Families: The Doctrine and Covenants, [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2004], p. 268.)

Activity:
All players, except one, are seated in a closed circle which contains one empty chair. One player is “it” and stands in the center. He tries to seat himself in the vacant chair that is continually being taken by the person next to it. “It” calls “slide right” or “slide left” and thus controls the direction the group moves. Whe he calls “slide right,” the person who finds the chair on his right empty, must slide into it. When “slide left” is called, each player is responsible for occupying the vacant chair on his left. When “it” gets a chair, the person who should have taken the chair becomes “it.”

(Alma Heaton, The LDS Game Book, [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1968], p.43.)

Refreshment
Strawberry Cheesecake Bars

1 (16-ounce) package Pecan Sandies Cookies, divided
1 1⁄2 tablespoons butter, melted
11 ounces cream cheese, softened (not low-fat) 2 eggs
2⁄3 cup sugar
pinch salt
1 1⁄2 teaspoons vanilla
1⁄2 teaspoon almond extract
2 cups sour cream
1 1⁄4 cups strawberry jam, divided (you can also use bottled strawberry topping or canned strawberry pie filling)

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

2. Spray a 9 x 13-inch pan with nonstick cooking spray. In a food processor, process 3⁄4 of the Pecan Sandies (reserve 6 cookies). Mix with melted butter and lightly press onto the bottom of the pan. Set aside.

3. In a large bowl or the bowl of a stand mixer, combine cream cheese, eggs, sugar, salt, vanilla, almond extract, and sour cream. Beat on high for 4–5 minutes. Spread half of the cheesecake batter onto the bottom of a 9 x 13-inch pan lightly sprayed with nonstick cooking spray.

4. Pour 3⁄4 cup of the strawberry sauce over the batter, spreading gently to cover the surface (it doesn’t have to be perfect). Spread remaining cheesecake batter over the strawberry layer and then spoon remaining 1⁄2 cup of strawberry sauce over the batter. Being careful not to cut into the surface of the cookie crust, swirl the strawberry mixture with a butter knife.

5. Bake for 25–35 minutes or until center is jiggly but not liquid. While baking, process remaining 6 cookies. During the last 10 minutes of baking, sprinkle the cookies on top of the cheesecake. Chill for at least 8 hours and cut into squares. If desired, drizzle remaining strawberry sauce over the individual squares.

(Sara Wells and Kate Jones, Our Best Bites, [Salt Lake City: Shadow Mountain, 2011], p. 216.)

To access the PDF version of this lesson, click here.

Comfort in Trials: Power of the Holy Spirit

Thu, 19 Jan 2012 12:29:00 -0700

source: radio.lds.org

FHE: Adversity

Mon, 29 Aug 2011 00:05:00 -0600

source: MormonLife.com

Mormon Life says: No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted.

Conference Talk:

For more information on this topic read “More Than Conquerors through Him That Loved Us,” by Paul V. Johnson, Ensign, May 2011, 78.

Thought:

"No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude, and humility. ... It is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire.”

(Orson F. Whitney, quoted in Paul V. Johnson, “More Than Conquerors through Him That Loved Us,” Ensign, May 2011, 78.)

Song:

“Be Still My Soul,” Hymns, #124.

Scripture:

And now, O my son Helaman, behold, thou art in thy youth, and therefore, I beseech of thee that thou wilt hear my words and learn of me; for I do know that whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions, and shall be lifted up at the last day.

(Alma 36:3)

Object Lesson:

Materials Needed

A piece of rough wood, sandpaper, and a piece of newspaper to catch sawdust.

Procedure

Show the rough wood to the class and briefly discuss how it would feel. Now show and pass around the sandpaper. Ask class members to comment on how it feels. During the following discussion, rub the rough edges of the wood with the sandpaper (holding it over the newspaper).

Discuss what happens as you use the sandpaper on the rough wood. Be sure to include why the sandpaper makes the wood feel smooth (rough particles cut off the rough bits of wood).

Liken the sandpaper to adversity and the wood to ourselves. Tell class members that adversity can soften and smooth our rough edges. Give some examples or ask the class to think of examples of this principle (for example, an extended illness may make a person more compassionate).

Story:

“I Was Willing to Suffer for the Sake of Christ”

Edward Partridge

I was taken from my house by the mob, George Simpson being their leader, who escorted me about half a mile, to the court house, on the public square in Independence; and then and there, a few rods from said court house, surrounded by hundreds of the mob, I was stripped of my hat, coat and vest and daubed with tar from head to foot, and then had a quantity of feathers put upon me; and all this because I would not agree to leave the county, and my home where I had lived two years.

Before tarring and feathering me I was permitted to speak. I told them that the Saints had suffered persecution in all ages of the world; that I had done nothing which ought to offend anyone; that if they abused me, they would abuse an innocent person; that I was willing to suffer for the sake of Christ; but, to leave the country, I was not then willing to consent to it. By this time the multitude made so much noise that I could not be heard: some were cursing and swearing, saying, “call upon your Jesus,” etc.; others were equally noisy in trying to still the rest, that they might be enabled to hear what I was saying.

Until after I had spoken, I knew not what they intended to do with me, whether to kill me, to whip me, or what else I knew not. I bore my abuse with so much resignation and meekness, that it appeared to astound the multitude, who permitted me to retire in silence, many looking very solemn, their sympathies having been touched as I thought; and as to myself, I was so filled with the Spirit and love of God, that I had no hatred towards my persecutors or anyone else.

(Jack M. Lyon, Linda Ririe Gundry, Jay A. Parry, Best-Loved Stories of the LDS People, Vol. 1, [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1997].)

Activity:

Back-to-Back Relay. Pairs standing back to back, with their backs touching, must run together to a goal and back with one running forward and the other running backward. If they separate, they must start over again.

Refreshment

No Bake Cookies

1/2 c. butter
1/2 c. milk
4 tbsp. cocoa
2 c. sugar
1/2 c. peanut butter
3 c. quick oats

Microwave butter, milk, cocoa and sugar in large bowl on high for 3 minutes. Stir, microwave for 2 more minutes. Remove from heat. Add peanut butter, stir until melted. Add oats and stir. Drop by spoonfuls onto cookie sheet covered with waxed paper. Refrigerate until cool. Makes 24 large cookies.

To access the printable FHE pdf, click here.

Lesson Helps: Learning from Trials (John Taylor Lesson 22)

Wed, 12 Nov 2003 09:21:00 -0700

source: MormonLife.com

Mormon Life says: Why do bad things happen to good people? Why would a perfectly loving and just Father in Heaven allow His children to suffer all manner of tragedies, trials, and tribulations? Brent L. Top examines the writings of C. S. Lewis on the function of trials.

The following is an excerpt from an essay by Brent L. Top, published in C. S. Lewis: The Man and His Message. For more on this subject, read his entire essay or try C. S. Lewis' books A Grief Observed and The Problem of Pain.

Why do bad things happen to good people? Why would a perfectly loving and just Father in Heaven allow His children to suffer all manner of tragedies, trials, and tribulations? Why would God create a world seemingly designed for the happiness and progress of man yet enveloped in crime and corruption, pain and poverty, sin and suffering? Great philosophers and theologians have wrestled with the apparent contradictions between the theology of a God of perfect love and beneficence and the reality of a world filled with inequities and injustices. Such contradictions often defy the best logic of both philosopher and theologian. Often we are left with more questions than answers.

C. S. Lewis's rise to spiritual understanding of the problem of pain and the goodness of God came first to the head, then to the heart. While it may seem backwards to some, Lewis unexpectedly discovered that the rational answers he had long articulated in the defense of God's designs brought him only so far down the path of his spiritual journey. He may have thought he had the right answers when he wrote the book The Problem of Pain in 1940, but those insightful answers may well have seemed quite empty in his own life after the death of his beloved wife, Joy Gresham Lewis, in 1960. From the depths of his broken heart came some of the most poignant questions—some filled with anger toward God, and others showing a vulnerable man desperately clinging to his faith when it seemed there was little reason to believe. From the questions and personal struggles Lewis recorded in the book A Grief Observed, we are able to see how he gained greater understanding of the role of evil and suffering in the world. From his personal loss came questions from the heart that resulted not only in a deeper understanding of the answers he had already found in his head but also in a comfort and peace that came from finding God. From his writings and personal experiences, from his questions as well as his answers, we can be strengthened spiritually and enlarged intellectually in our own efforts to reconcile the problem of pain. As Lewis demonstrates, it is not enough to just find answers. We must find God.

Head Knowledge: Having the "Right Answers"

Prior to his conversion to Christianity C. S. Lewis felt that the strongest evidence for an argument against the existence of God was the existence of so much pain, evil, and injustice in the world. If God was both all-powerful and good, why would he not eliminate such things from the world and protect His children from the awful effects of such suffering? After his conversion Lewis once again encountered the seemingly irreconcilable problem of faith in the goodness of God despite the overwhelming reality of evil and suffering among God's children. This time, with firm faith in the goodness of God and the wisdom of His purposes, Lewis attempted, as an apologist for Christianity, to suggest a reasoned yet faithful explanation. Such a reconciliation of the existence of God despite the reality of evil and suffering in the world is known as theodicy.

Amidst the gathering storm clouds of World War II and the anxiety and worry it brought, C. S. Lewis was asked to write a book as a part of the "Christian Challenge" series of Centenary Press. The purpose of the series was to introduce the tenets of Christianity to people outside the faith. At first Lewis rejected the offer; then he agreed only if he could use a pen name rather than his own, for he felt it would be presumptuous as a non-theologian to write about such a serious philosophical topic. But there was no pen name. C. S. Lewis's theodicy would stand on its own. In 1940 The Problem of Pain rolled off the press and was immediately received with much acclaim. In the preface Lewis modestly stated that he "believed himself to be [merely] restating ancient and orthodox doctrines." Although he may have felt that he wasn't "plowing any new ground" theologically or philosophically with this book, it was his genius for using well-reasoned, clearly articulated arguments, highlighted with brilliant analogies that all could relate to that made The Problem of Pain one of his most popular works. It is also what one scholar characterized as "faith seeking understanding" spoken in plain, everyday language, that makes Lewis so appealing to us today. "Any fool can write learned language," Lewis wrote to a literary critic. "The vernacular is the real test. If you can't turn your faith into it, then either you don't understand it, or you don't believe it." Lewis firmly believed that people could not really understand a complex philosophical or theological issue until they could understand it in simple language.

For Latter-day Saints in particular, C. S. Lewis has great appeal, but not so much because he teaches us anything new or dramatically different from that which is found in our own theology and scriptures. It is, rather, that he simplifies the complex with common sense and illustrates the philosophical explanations with understandable and relevant metaphors, which in turn helps us to understand our own doctrines and scriptures better. Lewis's response to the "problem of pain" basically falls into two major categories: the free will of mankind and the goodness of God. Each of these explanations finds a complement in the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and each plays a significant role in helping us to better understand the causes and purposes of evil and suffering in the world.

To Latter-day Saints the principle of free will, or what we would call agency, is a fundamental principle of the plan of salvation and for the divine purposes of life itself. Because of this supreme significance, agency is a protected principle. In order to safeguard the purposes of our mortal probation the Lord will not infringe upon the free exercise of agency. C. S. Lewis also taught this fundamental principle of Christianity not only in his religious apologetic works such as The Great Divorce, The Screwtape Letters, Miracles, God in the Dock, and, of course, The Problem of Pain, but also as a recurring theme in some of his fictional books, such as Perelandra. "Free will is the modus operandi of destiny," he wrote. In his classic work, Mere Christianity, he elaborated on this principle.

God created things which had free will. That means creatures which can go either wrong or right. Some people think they can imagine a creature which was free but had no possibility of going wrong; I cannot. If a thing is free to be good it is also free to be bad. And free will is what has made evil possible. Why, then did God give them free will? Because free will, though it makes evil possible, is also the only thing that makes possible any love or goodness or joy worth having. A world of automata—of creatures that worked like machines—would hardly be worth creating. The happiness which God designs for His higher creatures is the happiness of being freely, voluntarily united to Him and to each other in an ecstasy of love and delight compared with which the most rapturous love between a man and a woman on this earth is mere milk and water. And for that they must be free.

Of course God knew what would happen if they used their freedom the wrong way: apparently He thought it worth the risk. . . . If God thinks this state of war in the universe a price worth paying for free will—that is, for making a live world in which creatures can do real good or harm and something of real importance can happen, instead of a toy world which only moves when He pulls the strings—then we may take it is worth paying.

While this promotes the progression of humanity, it also carries with it certain "side effects" that may result in suffering and sorrow. Free will is linked to adversity: many times our suffering and sorrows in life come as a result of the use or misuse of agency.

One cannot read the daily newspapers or watch world news on television without being graphically reminded of the crime and corruption and other social injustices that result from human choice. Some question the justice and goodness of God or even His existence. They may ask: "Why does God allow the wicked and the corrupt of the world to victimize the righteous and devout, the innocent and helpless?" The unsettling answer lies in the fact that free will is a divinely guarded principle. God does not cause the evil, but if there is to be agency, he must allow it. C. S. Lewis described this phenomenon in this manner: "Pain is inherent in the very existence of a world where souls can meet. When souls become wicked they will certainly use this possibility to hurt one another; and this, perhaps, accounts for four-fifths of the sufferings of men. It is men, not God, who have produced racks, whips, prisons, slavery, guns, bayonets, and bombs; it is by human avarice or human stupidity, not by the churlishness of nature, that we have poverty and overwork."

Because the wicked are accountable for their own actions, and their misuse of their agency will ultimately bring about their own condemnation, God allows them to inflict suffering on others. If He were to interfere with every negative action, creating what Lewis described as a "toy world" as opposed to a "real world," He would not only violate the divine gift of agency but also would negate the law of the harvest. We could not "reap" if we were not allowed to "sow" (see Gal. 6:7-8). Similarly, we learn that the suffering and pain that come with the exercise of the will is two-edged—suffering as consequence of the actions of others and suffering that comes by reason of our own actions. "How could we learn about obedience," Elder Neal A. Maxwell insightfully asked, "if we were shielded from the consequences of our disobedience?"

As Lewis himself admitted, the free exercise of man's agency cannot explain all the trials and tribulations of our mortal existence. "Free will," Lewis wrote, may account "for four-fifths of the suffering of men. . . . But there remains, nonetheless, much suffering which cannot thus be traced to ourselves." While to the unbeliever, it may seem a total contradiction in terms, Lewis contended that many of the trials and tribulations, pains and problems, and suffering and sorrows of life can be attributed to the goodness of God and His perfect love for His children.

The age-old questions about how an all-wise and all-loving God can allow bad things to happen to good people seemingly can only be satisfactorily answered if the terms are properly defined. It is a misunderstanding of the phrases "goodness of God," "bad things," and "good people" that leads some to reject either the entire notion of a Supreme Being or any divine "meaning in the madness" of the universe. It is through helping us to better understand the meaning of these terms that Lewis makes perhaps his greatest contribution to theodicy.

First, let us examine the concept of the "goodness of God." While it is true that the scriptures, both ancient and modern, often use terms such as kindness and tenderness as descriptors of God's love and goodness, there is much, much more. And it is in those other traits that we see the goodness of God at work in the tribulations of life. Amidst the profound grief he felt at the death of his wife, Lewis was forced to tackle the seeming contradiction of God's goodness and love for mankind and the terrible pain He allows. "What do people mean when they say 'I am not afraid of God because I know He is good'?" Lewis wrote. "Have they never been to a dentist?" Years earlier Lewis had articulated so well with the pen what his heart was now painfully discovering. "By the goodness of God we mean nowadays almost exclusively His lovingkindness; and in this we may be right," Lewis wrote in The Problem of Pain.

And by Love, in this context, most of us mean kindness—the desire to see others than the self happy; not happy in this way or that, but just happy. What would really satisfy us would be a God who said of anything we happened to like doing, "What does it matter so long as they are contented?" We want, in fact, not so much a Father in Heaven as a grandfather in heaven—a senile benevolence who, as they say, "liked to see young people enjoying themselves," and whose plan for the universe was simply that it might be truly said at the end of each day, "a good time was had by all.". . .

Kindness, merely as such, cares not whether its object becomes good or bad, provided only that it escapes suffering. As Scripture points out, it is bastards who are spoiled: the legitimate sons who are to carry on the family tradition are punished. It is for people we care nothing about that we demand happiness on any terms. . . . If God is Love, He is, by definition, something more than mere kindness. And it appears, from all the records, that though He has often rebuked us and condemned us, He has never regarded us with contempt. He has paid us the intolerable compliment of loving us, in the deepest, most tragic, most inexorable sense.

As any parent knows, love for one's offspring requires, as Lewis's words profoundly illustrate, much more than "senile benevolence" or kindness at any cost. It requires seeking for that which is best for our children, for that which will bring them happiness and not merely fun, for that which develops character and not merely contentment. Lewis's reference to "bastards who are spoiled" undoubtedly reflects the words of the Apostle Paul. "My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him: for whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not? But if ye be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and not sons" (Heb. 12:5-8). To Latter-day Saints this concept should be especially relevant, since we believe that God is literally our Heavenly Father, whose goodness and love are manifest as a perfect parent. In our day, the Lord reminded us by revelation through the Prophet Joseph Smith: "Verily, thus saith the Lord unto you whom I love, and whom I love I also chasten that their sins may be forgiven, for with the chastisement I prepare a way for their deliverance in all things out of temptation, and I have loved you. Wherefore, ye must needs be chastened" (D&C 95:1-2).

God's chastening is neither vengeance nor meanness. The root of the word is the same as for the word chaste—pure, clean, spotless, virtuous. The process of chastening may be long and extraordinarily painful at times, but the product of such chastening is a "new creature," one in whom God's image becomes engraven. How can God's love and goodness be manifest in any greater way?

This leads us naturally to an examination of two phrases in the oft-stated question—"Why do bad things happen to good people?" Just as the phrase "goodness of God" is often misunderstood, so are these phrases; and they are in need of definition and scriptural clarification.

We often speak of good people, and without question there are many whose lives exemplify goodness. But even they are not without need for improvement by the chastening of a good God. Latter-day Saints are familiar with doctrinal statements from the Book of Mormon that help clarify the nature of man. King Benjamin declared that "the natural man is an enemy to God" (Mosiah 3:19), and the brother of Jared testified that "because of the fall our natures have become evil continually" (Ether 3:2). Without believing in the "total depravity of mankind," C. S. Lewis clearly believed that human nature was naturally rebellious and, as a result, the suffering and pains of the world are directly related to God's designs to help bring about an alteration in man's evil and rebellious nature, replacing it with the "divine nature" (2 Pet. 1:4). "The human spirit will not even begin to surrender self- will, as long as all seems to be well with it," Lewis wrote. This sentiment certainly complements Nephi's warning regarding "carnal security" (2 Ne. 28:21). There is a natural yet often unrecognized tendency to embrace an "all is well in Zion" (2 Ne. 28:21) attitude, to become less dependent upon the Lord and more secure in self and in the things of the world, when life seems to be going smoothly. To expose the facade of self-suffiency and to break and bridle the rebellious spirit, God uses suffering and pain. "But the redemptive effect of suffering lies chiefly in its tendency to reduce the rebel will," Lewis wrote. God uses pain, as "His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

Heart Understanding: Finding God through the Trial of Faith

"If you are writing a book about pain, then get some actual pain," C. S. Lewis had mused among friends while working on the book The Problem of Pain. He had been concerned about writing on such a serious subject when his own life had been relatively free from suffering. Theodicy without real personal experience, he observed, "does not either, as the cynic would expect, blow the doctrine to bits, nor as a Christian would hope, turn into practice, but remains quite unconnected and irrelevant, just as any other bit of actual life does when you are reading or writing." He clearly recognized the limitations of having "right answers" without having asked "hard questions." Lewis also felt inadequate in addressing the problem of pain because he felt no great courage when it came to pain and he certainly did not want to minimize its hurtful nature in his attempts of rational explanation. In The Problem of Pain he wrote:

All arguments in justification of suffering provoke bitter resentment against the author. You would like to know how I behave when I am experiencing pain, not writing books about it. You need not guess, for I will tell you: I am a great coward. . . . If I knew any way of escape I would crawl through sewers to find it. But what is the good of telling you my feelings? You know them already: for they are the same as yours. I am not arguing that pain is not painful. Pain hurts. That is what the word means. I am only trying to show that the old Christian doctrine of being made "perfect through suffering" is not incredible.

In the preface to a book of collected essays of his friend Charles Williams, which he had edited, Lewis remembered being reminded by Williams that God had been displeased with Job's friends. The so- called comforters—"the self-appointed advocates on God's side, the people who tried to show that all was well," Williams stated. They are the "sort of people," Williams continued, "who wrote books on the Problem of Pain."

However, that situation—the "unconnectedness" or "irrelevance" of a thoughtful theodicy devoid of deep personal pain—dramatically changed with the death of his beloved wife, Joy, in 1960. Her death brought with it an ironical turn of the tables. Joy may have found peace with her God at death, but Lewis found anything but peace and comfort.

It was ironic indeed that C. S. Lewis—the internationally acclaimed Christian apologist, whose writings, lectures, and personal letters had done so much to increase faith in God—would face a crisis of faith in his own heart and mind. All of his eloquent arguments regarding the problem of pain had not adequately prepared him for his own trials. "Not that I am (I think) in much danger of ceasing to believe in God," he wrote in his personal journal regarding the commingling of thoughts and emotions he experienced after the death of Joy. These personal notes, his self-prescribed treatment for his grief, were later published as A Grief Observed. "The real danger is of coming to believe such dreadful things about [God]. The conclusion I dread is not, 'So there's no God after all,' but, 'So this is what God's really like. Deceive yourself no longer.'" His faith in the existence of God may not have been completely shaken, but his view of the goodness of God—which he had so faithfully defended and eloquently articulated time and time again—seemed battered and bruised. In the depths of his anguish Lewis was tempted to view God as a "Cosmic Sadist" who had "choked every prayer and every hope" with "false diagnoses" and "strange remissions." He wrote, "Time after time when He seemed most gracious He was preparing the next torture."

Undoubtedly Lewis was stunned by his own thoughts and feelings after the death of Joy. He may have expected deep sadness and loneliness, but certainly not the anger at God, the loss of reasonable explanations, and the wavering of his faith. He came to understand, however reluctantly, how prophets of God—endowed with great spiritual insight into the purposes of God though they are—could still question God and cry out in agony, "O God, where art thou?" (D&C 121:1). Each of us, to a greater or lesser degree, experience the same sojourn from superficial knowledge to divine wisdom. At first we naively believe we have all the answers, only to have them seemingly shattered in grief and suffering that may seem beyond our ability to endure. Then when our faith is sorely tried we rediscover in our hearts and souls the truthfulness of those "answers" we previously held only in our heads. It is at this point that we may ultimately gain true understanding of the divine purposes of life and recognize that all the while we have been cradled in the merciful arms of God.

Over time, C. S. Lewis discovered that he, too, was facing his own "customized challenge"—a test of his faith. Did he really believe all those things he had written and spoken or were they just empty words? His personal feelings and musings, recorded in A Grief Observed, provide us with a unique glimpse of the workings of God in testing the faith of His children.

Where is God? This is one of the most disquieting symptoms. When you are happy, so happy that you have no sense of needing Him, so happy that you are tempted to feel His claims upon you as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be—or so it feels—welcomed with open arms. But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside. After that, silence. You may as well turn away. The longer you wait, the more emphatic the silence will become. There are no lights in the windows. It might be an empty house. Was it ever inhabited? It seemed so once. And that seeming was as strong as this. What can this mean? Why is He so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble?. . .

You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you. It is easy to say you believe a rope to be strong and sound as long as you are merely using it to cord a box. But suppose you had to hang by that rope over a precipice. Wouldn't you then first discover how much you really trusted it?. . . Only a real risk tests the reality of a belief. . .

Bridge players tell me that there must be some money on the game, "or else people won't take it seriously." Apparently it's like that. Your bid—for God or no God, for a good God or the Cosmic Sadist, for eternal life or nonentity—will not be serious if nothing is staked on it. And you will never discover how serious it was until the stakes are raised horribly high; until you find that you are playing not for counters or for sixpences but for every penny you have in the world. Nothing less will shake a man—or at any rate a man like me—out of his verbal and his merely notional beliefs. He has to be knocked silly before he comes to his senses. . .

But of course one must take the "set to try us" the right way. God has not been trying an experiment upon my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn't. In this trial He makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down.

As Lewis shows us, the test of adversity, often accompanied by the feeling of forsakenness, powerfully strips away all false faith and superficial spirituality.

After a long while of stumbling in the dark abyss of his personal grief, Lewis began to notice the light. "After much tribulation come the blessings," the Lord declared in this dispensation (D&C 58:4). Lewis, likewise, began to discern the blessings that can come only after tribulation. He knew in his head long before that suffering and pain were part of the plan whereby God perfects and spiritually reshapes man. Now, however, Lewis obtained an understanding greater than the "right answers" he had had a generation earlier. "You can't see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears," he wrote as he began his journey out of the darkness of doubt. "You can't in most things get what you want if you want it too desperately: anyway you can't get the best out of it. . . . And so perhaps with God. I have gradually been coming to feel that the door is no longer shut and bolted. Was it my own frantic need that slammed it in my face? The time when there is nothing at all in your soul except a cry for help may be just the time when God can't give it to you: you are like the drowning man who can't be helped because he clutches and grabs. Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to hear."

Lewis's theology didn't change through his experience. What he had written two decades earlier in The Problem of Pain was just as profound as ever, but he had changed. From A Grief Observed, we see ourselves to some degree in Lewis's grieving experience. It is this personal attachment that we feel to him that makes his brutally honest observations and self- discovery so relevant to each of us. We learn, at least in our heads, what he learned in his heart—that knowing the right answers to the problem of pain may give insight and perspective, but not necessarily true understanding and comfort. Only God gives that.

Thoughts on Gospel Doctrine Lesson 35

Thu, 11 Sep 2003 12:09:00 -0600

source: MormonLife.com

Mormon Life says: Lesson 35 studies Paul's council on overcoming tribulation, forgiveness, godly sorrow, and reconciliation as found in 2 Corinthians. Be sure to read the following commentary by Richard Lloyd Anderson, Bruce R. McConkie, Neal A. Maxwell, Ezra Taft Benson, and Robert L. Millet.

Richard Lloyd Anderson on Paul's Teachings on Sacrifice:

No one leads others to a higher level without experiencing unawareness, insensitivity, or even rejection from them. Few realize what it takes to help others until they also reach that higher level. How many children or students appreciate their parents and teachers before they become parents and teachers themselves? Christ and Paul both reveal the struggle to lead others spiritually, but there is a corresponding joy that is highlighted in 2 Corinthians: "For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows" (2 Cor. 1:5, NIV). Paul "boasts" in this letter, but only to remind his enemies of his credentials on knowing Judaism, suffering, and the visions of the Lord. He does not boast of the inner peace of the Spirit, but his inner composure emerges in 2 Corinthians as vividly as the sacrifices and hardships that he consciously reviews. This book quietly shows that God's rich blessings are sure when one performs his errands.

Paul needs no earthly status, for he is satisfied to hold heavenly treasures with other Saints in "earthen vessels," referring to the common pottery around him (2 Cor. 4:7). He validates Jesus' beatitudes, for in literally hungering and thirsting he is filled with the joy of the Spirit. Can one be "blessed" when persecuted? Paul answers that he is "troubled on every side, yet not distressed . . . persecuted, but not forsaken" (2 Cor. 4:8-9). Part of Paul's burden of sacrifice was risking danger—some of these persecutions were mentioned in the biographical chapters of this book. He wanted his Corinthian detractors to know his integrity by the measure of his discomfort and his risking his life for the gospel: whether the blows of being beaten, whether prisons, whether mobs (2 Cor. 6:5), whether fatigue, hunger, or physical discomfort (2 Cor. 11:27). But how easily he moves from such outer afflictions to anxiety over the Saints' righteousness and the criticisms of self-righteous Saints. After exposure to thieves on lonely roads, he was certain to be mobbed in the cities when he preached the gospel (2 Cor. 11:26). And after making converts, he was certain to meet problems from many and rebelliousness from some. After all perils "without," he assumed "the care of all the churches" (2 Cor. 11:28). Paul's longest letters express his deep concerns over serious problems: "For out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote unto you with many tears" (2 Cor. 2:4).

What parent, leader, or concerned friend has not had the same feelings? Even Jesus wept over unrepentant Jerusalem. Paul was not sacrificing for an institution but for people. The principle of sacrifice means discomfort in finding his missionary contacts, means facing any scorn in sharing the gospel, means care in leading converts through immaturity to godliness. His list of sacrifices seems inexhaustible. With this record of what one apostle gave for the kingdom, can one smugly think of going to Paul's glory without being able to turn off the television and talk with family members and fill Church assignments? Missionaries look back at the "happiest years of their lives" because they sacrificed for the Saints and for converts. Parents similarly look back at their busiest involvement with their families. Bishops and Relief Society presidents experience the same illogical combination of giving beyond their capacity and receiving unimagined joy. Latter-day Saints are deeply committed to the principle of sacrifice, and the above examples show that selflessness is not a burden but the essence of life's opportunity. Jesus said, "Whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it" (Matt. 16:25). Paul was in the midst of visible dangers and demanding travel when he wrote 2 Corinthians, but he could say that the "inward man is renewed day by day" (2 Cor. 4:16, 2 Cor. 4:16). And he gives a convincing glimpse of the Lord's resources and rewards that were deep wells of refreshment as he labored "by pureness, by knowledge, by longsuffering, by kindness, by the Holy Ghost, by love unfeigned" (2 Cor. 6:6).

(Richard Lloyd Anderson, Understanding Paul [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1983], 130.)

Bruce R. McConkie on the Weaknesses of Men:

Weaknesses cause men to rely upon the Lord and to seek his grace and goodness. If all men excelled in all things, would any develop the humility and submissiveness essential to salvation? As shown by Paul's life, even the greatest prophets—for their own benefit and schooling—though strong in the Spirit, are weak in other things. Some have physical infirmities, others are denied financial ability, or are lacking in some desirable personality trait, lest any think of themselves more highly than they ought.

When Moroni complained to the Lord that the Gentiles would criticize the literary weaknesses of the Nephites, the Lord replied: "Fools mock, but they shall mourn; and my grace is sufficient for the meek, that they shall take no advantage of your weakness; And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them. Behold, I will show unto the Gentiles their weakness and I will show unto them that faith, hope and charity bringeth unto me—the fountain of all righteousness." (Ether 12:26-28.)

2 Cor 12:7. A thorn in the flesh] Some unnamed physical infirmity, apparently a grievous one from which the Apostle suffered either continuously or recurringly.

2 Cor 12:7 Messenger of Satan] Whence come diseases and infirmities? From Satan or some other source? Without any question sickness, distress, and physical incapacity arise because of the laws which God has ordained. Obedience to the laws of health brings health; disobedience to these laws opens the door to disease and deformity. This principle is implicit in the very fact that Deity has given us such revelations as the Word of Wisdom. (D. & C. 89.) If it were otherwise, Satan would smite apostles and prophets, and the good and great in general, with disease and affliction, so that universal anarchy, disability, and plague would reign over all the earth.

On the other hand, the devil uses and delights in diseases and afflictions, and in some cases he has power to impose them, as when "Satan . . . smote Job with sore boils from the sole of his foot unto his crown" (Job 2:7), or when Jesus loosed from her infirmity "a daughter of Abraham, whom," he said, "Satan hath bound, lo, these eighteen years.' (Luke 13:11-17; Acts 10:38.)

(Bruce R. McConkie, Doctrinal New Testament Commentary, 3 vols. [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1965-1973], 2: 448.)

Neal A. Maxwell on Overcoming Tribulations:

An equally hard but essential doctrine, if we are to understand life itself, is the reality that since this is a gospel of growth and life is a school of experience, God, as a loving Father, will stretch our souls at times. The soul is like a violin string: it makes music only when it is stretched. (Eric Hoffer.) God will tutor us by trying us because He loves us, not because of indifference! As already noted, this sort of divine design in our lives clearly requires the omniscience of God. No wonder those who wrongly think of Him as still progressing with regard to the acquisition of knowledge will not be able to manage well the hard doctrines in this chapter.

Because our lives are foreseen by God, He is never surprised by developments within our lives. The sudden loss of health, wealth, self-esteem, status, or a loved one—developments that may stun us—are foreseen by God, though not necessarily caused by Him. It is clear, however, that this second estate is to be a learning and a testing experience. Once again, it is relevant to remind ourselves that when the Gods discussed us and our earth experience, their declaration was, "And we will prove them herewith." (D&C 98:12; Abraham 3:25.)

Clearly, we had to be moved on from the first estate—where the truth that "all these things shall give thee experience" no doubt seemed so very logical to us—moved on to this earth, where all these experiences are sometimes so inexplicable and even nearly intolerable.

C. S. Lewis put it well when he gave us the analogy of remodeling the human soul and a living house: "Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently, He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace." (Mere Christianity [New York: Macmillan, 1960], p. 174.)

It should be clear to us, however, that when we speak of meeting life's challenges and suffering, it is wise to distinguish between the causes of suffering. There are different kinds of "remodeling."

Type I

Some things happen to us because of our own mistakes and our own sins, as contrasted with suffering brought on because we are Christian. Peter makes this distinction very well: "But let none of you suffer as a murderer, or as a thief, or as an evildoer, or as a busybody in other men's matters. Yet if any man suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed; but let him glorify God on this behalf." (1 Peter 4:15-16.)

Even indecision—about whether or not to be a believer—can produce its own unnecessary trial and sorrows, as President Brigham Young observed: "As to trials, why bless your hearts, the man or woman who enjoys the spirit of our religion has no trials; but the man or woman who tries to live according to the Gospel of the Son of God, and at the same time clings to the spirit of the world, has trials and sorrows acute and keen, and that, too, continually." (Journal of Discourses 16:123.)

Type II

Still other trials and tribulations come to us merely as a part of living, for, as indicated in the scriptures, the Lord "sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust." (Matthew 5:45.) We are not immunized against all inconvenience and difficulties nor against aging. This type of suffering carries its own real challenges, but we do not feel singled out.

Type III

There is another dimension of suffering, and other challenges that come to us even though we seem to be innocent. These come to us because an omniscient Lord deliberately chooses to school us: "For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth" (Hebrews 12:6); "Nevertheless the Lord seeth fit to chasten his people; yea, he trieth their patience and their faith" (Mosiah 23:21).

Abraham, for instance, had his faith tried as he took Isaac up to Mount Moriah. The Lord later described this as a deliberate chastening experience for Abraham. (D&C 101:4.) Fittingly, Abraham, who was later to become a god, learned through obedience what it was to be asked to sacrifice his son. (D&C 132:37.)

A good friend, who knows whereof he speaks, has observed of trials, "If it's fair, it is not a true trial!" That is, without the added presence of some inexplicableness and some irony and injustice, the experience may not stretch us or lift us sufficiently. The crucifixion of Christ was clearly the greatest injustice in human history, but the Savior bore up under it with majesty and indescribable valor.

Paul indicated that "there was given to me a thorn in the flesh." (2 Corinthians 12:7-9. Italics added.) Use of the word given suggests that Paul knew wherefrom this affliction came. Further, as it must be with anyone who seeks sainthood, Paul had to be "willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him." (Mosiah 3:19.)

There may be those who choose to debate the significance of whether or not an omnipotent God gives us a particular trial or simply declines to remove it. The outcome is obviously the same either way; God is willing for us to undergo that challenge. Yet He promises us that His grace is sufficient for us. (2 Corinthians 12:9; Ether 12:26-27.) He even indicates that some of the weaknesses and infirmities given to us can actually become a strength to us. It is in our weakness and extremity that God's power is fully felt. Only when, of ourselves, we are helpless is His help truly appreciated.

Parenthetically, those who worry if they currently seem to be untested should not feel guilty or anxious, nor should they pray for trials. First of all, the absence of major tribulation can, ironically, produce the trial of tranquillity with its very grave risks of careless ease. Second, the Lord does require a few intact individuals and families to help others manage their trials and tribulations, even though these roles often rotate. (Moses, who was very "anxiously engaged" and who was in the midst of having his leadership of ancient Israel tested, was blessed by the solid counsel of an observing—but somewhat less involved—Jethro about delegation.) Third, life is not over yet, and there can be, as we have all seen, a tremendous compression of trials. Finally, the absence of Type I trials, those arising out of our own sins and mistakes, is obviously never to be regretted.

... The justice, mercy, and love of God blend appropriately in providing us with adequate growth opportunities in this life. We will not be able to say shruggingly at judgment time, "I was overcome by the world because I was overprogrammed or overtempted." For the promises are that temptation can either be escaped or endured. (1 Corinthians 10:13.) The promise is also that throughout tribulation God's grace is sufficient for us—He will see us through. (2 Corinthians 12:9; Ether 12:26-27.)

The thermostat on the furnace of affliction will not have been set too high for us—though clearly we may think so at the time. Our God is a refining God who has been tempering soul-steel for a very long time. He knows when the right edge has been put upon our excellence and also when there is more in us than we have yet given. One day we will praise God for taking us near to our limits—as He did His Only Begotten in Gethsemane and Calvary.

But would one so submit to a God who was not both omniscient and all-loving and enter the "furnace of affliction"? Might we not resent it all otherwise?

How much glorious inner comfort came to Christ in Gethsemane and Calvary from His knowing that, literally, He did "nothing" save that which "he seeth the Father do." (John 5:19-20.)

(Neal A. Maxwell, All These Things Shall Give Thee Experience [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1979], 28.)

Richard Lloyd Anderson on Forgiveness and Repentance:

The gospel seeks to alleviate guilt, not produce it. Confusion, misunderstanding, and sin all produce guilt. Christ's atonement illuminates dim human paths with the glow of assurance. Everyone is included in "God so loved the world" (John 3:16). Yet many things are implied in God's giving of his Son—not only the Atonement, but the missionary commission to spread the message and include all willing in Christ's Church. This does not mean handing people tracts and ignoring them thereafter. Paul's church was a system of caring, above all for spiritual welfare. Paul says that God set the example by "the riches of His goodness, forbearance, and longsuffering"—and that these qualities develop steadfast love, which "leads you to repentance" (Rom. 2:4, NKJB). Paul's Corinthian letters show him exercising just such concerned leadership to motivate the Corinthian Saints to repent.

Paul wrote his first letter not to wound, but "that ye might know the love which I have more abundantly unto you" (2 Cor. 2:4). He encouraged the Saints to "forgive . . . and comfort" an offender (2 Cor. 2:7); to "confirm your love toward him" (2 Cor. 2:8). Paul's "increase of love" was especially appropriate because the Corinthians had taken seriously Paul's letter and the leader sent to follow it up. The apostle's heart went out to them because of "the obedience of you all, how with fear and trembling ye received him" (2 Cor. 7:15). Thus, Paul's duty of confrontation had produced only temporary pain because lives were changed (2 Cor. 7:8). A slight modernization clarifies Paul's powerful explanation of this "first principle": "Now I rejoice, not that you were made sorry, but that your sorrow led to repentance. For you were made sorry in a godly manner, that you might suffer loss from us in nothing. For godly sorrow produces repentance to salvation, not to be regretted; but the sorrow of the world produces death" (2 Cor. 7:9-10, NKJB).

There is indeed the bitter pain of the results of sin in a person angry because he immaturely refuses to learn. "It is hard for you to kick against the goads" (Acts 26:14, NKJB), the Lord had told Paul at his conversion. But when one sincerely reaches to God for growth, he takes the pain of sin as a lesson. This "godly sorrow" brings repentance "not to be repented of" because it rests on true principles and never needs to be changed. But the "sorrow of the world" tends to death—in one sense the actions themselves must die because they are counterfeit. The eternal way is the only permanent way to happiness. Second Corinthians shows that those accepting Christ must still struggle for righteousness in their lives, that repentance is a constant, ongoing process necessary for exaltation. Christ's atonement provided hope and forgiveness for the Corinthians but did not relieve them of the personal struggles to develop in their ability to live Christ's principles. As in modern revelation, the measure of their repentance was both regret and change of behavior. One truly repenting of sins "will confess them and forsake them" (D&C 58:43). Repentance is no more restricted to the time of conversion than is faith, for both are lifelong principles of growth in the gospel. Confession of Christ merely opens the way to learn to serve him, another name for repentance.

(Richard Lloyd Anderson, Understanding Paul [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1983], 130.)

Ezra Taft Benson on Godly Sorrow:

As we seek to qualify to be members of Christ's Church-members in the sense in which He uses the term, members who have repented and come unto Him-let us remember these principles. The gospel is the Lord's plan of happiness and repentance is designed to bring us joy. True repentance is based on and flows from faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. There is no other way. True repentance involves a change of heart and not just a change of behavior (see Alma 5:13). Part of this mighty change of heart is to feel godly sorrow for our sins. This is what is meant by a broken heart and a contrite spirit. God's gifts are sufficient to help us overcome every sin and weakness if we will but turn to Him for help. Most repentance does not involve sensational or dramatic changes, but rather is a step by step, steady and consistent movement toward godliness. ("A Mighty Change of Heart," address prepared [but not delivered] 1986.)

It is not uncommon to find men and women in the world who feel remorse for the things they do wrong. Sometimes this is because their actions cause them or loved ones great sorrow and misery. Sometimes their sorrow is caused because they are caught and punished for their actions. Such worldly feelings do not constitute "godly sorrow" (2 cor. 7:102 Corinthians 7:10).

Godly sorrow is a gift of the Spirit. It is a deep realization that our actions have offended our Father and our God. It is the sharp and keen awareness that our behavior caused the Savior, He who knew no sin, even the greatest of all, to endure agony and suffering. Our sins caused Him to bleed at every pore. This very real mental and spiritual anguish is what the scriptures refer to as having "a broken heart and a contrite spirit" (D&C 20:37). Such a spirit is the absolute prerequisite for true repentance.

We must take our sins to the Lord in humble and sorrowful repentance. We must plead with Him for power to overcome them. The promises are sure. He will come to our aid. We will find the power to change our lives. ("A Mighty Change of Heart," address prepared [but not delivered] 1986.)

We must be careful, as we seek to become more and more god-like, that we do not become discouraged and lose hope. Becoming Christlike is a lifetime pursuit and very often involves growth and change that is slow, almost imperceptible. The scriptures record remarkable accounts of men whose lives changed dramatically, in an instant as it were. Alma the Younger, Paul on the road to Damascus, Enos praying far into the night, King Lamoni. Such astonishing examples of the power to change even those steeped in sin give confidence that the Atonement can reach even those deepest in despair. ("A Mighty Change of Heart," address prepared [but not delivered] 1986.)

As we cleanse the inner vessel, there will have to be changes made in our own personal lives, in our families, and in the Church (see Alma 60:23). The proud do not change to improve, but defend their position by rationalizing. Repentance means change, and it takes a humble person to change. But we can do it. (CR April 1986, Ensign 16 [May 1986]: 7.)

(Ezra Taft Benson, The Teachings of Ezra Taft Benson [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1988], 71.)

Bruce R. McConkie on Man Reconciling Himself to God:

Through his fall Adam brought spiritual death into the world; that is, man was cast out of the presence of God and died as pertaining to the things of righteousness or of the Spirit. As a consequence man became carnal, sensual, and devilish by nature and were thereby an enemy of God. (Mosiah 3:19; Alma 42:7-11.) Through his atoning sacrifice Christ brought spiritual life into the world; that is, man was given power to return to the presence of God by receiving the companionship of the Holy Spirit; he was able to become alive as to the things of righteousness or of the Spirit.

Reconciliation is the process of ransoming man from his state of sin and spiritual darkness and of restoring him to a state of harmony and unity with Deity. Through it God and man are no longer enemies. Man, who was once carnal and evil, who lived after the manner of the flesh, becomes a new creature of the Holy Ghost; he is born again; and, even as a little child, he is alive in Christ. "Reconcile yourselves to the will of God, and not to the will of the devil and the flesh," Jacob taught, "and remember, after ye are reconciled unto God, that it is only in and through the grace of God that ye are saved." (2 Ne. 10:24.)

(Bruce R. McConkie, Doctrinal New Testament Commentary, 3 vols. [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1965-1973], 2: 422.)

Neal A. Maxwell on Reconciliation:

The Atonement was itself an act of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:19). Jesus "hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us . . . that he might reconcile [us] unto God" (Ephesians 2:14-16).

The theme of reconciliation is often found in the Book of Mormon as well: "Wherefore, my beloved brethren, reconcile yourselves to the will of God, and not to the will of the devil and the flesh; and remember, after ye are reconciled unto God, that it is only in and through the grace of God that ye are saved" (2 Nephi 10:24).

There is no such thing as one party reconciliation. "And all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation" (2 Corinthians 5:18). God stands ready to reconcile us to Him, waiting with open arms to receive us (Mormon 6:17). There is no such thing as a solo embrace.

(Neal A. Maxwell, Not My Will, But Thine [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1998], 99.)

Robert L. Millet on Reconciliation:

Paul explains the reconciliation of fallen man to God made possible through the gospel. (5:11-7:16.) It is God who has initiated this process, "who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ." (5:18.) An individual who enters into the new covenant in Christ becomes a "new creature" (5:17), and the Atonement makes it possible for that person to repent of "trespasses" and achieve reconciliation with God the Father (5:19). Paul links this concept to his defense of the divine authority of his apostleship that follows, noting to the Corinthians: "Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us." (5:20.) His role as their priesthood leader has been a painful one, and he has had the unpleasant task of calling them to repentance. (7:4-9.) He is relieved that finally they have humbled themselves and that they "sorrowed to repentance." (7:9.) While God has initiated the possibility of reconciliation, it is the duty of the individual saints to finally make it effective in each of their lives by repentance and righteous living.

(Robert L. Millet, ed., Studies in Scripture, Vol. 6: Acts to Revelation [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1987], 73.)