At the risk of having my blog blocked as an inappropriate site, I chose this title which fits one of Dictionary.com's definitions of prostitute, defined as "to put to any base or unworthy use."
The scriptures speak of an event in the life of the Savior as He enters Jerusalem and encounters a certain fig tree. The verses read:
"Now in the morning as he returned into the city, he hungered.
And when he saw a fig tree in the way, he came to it, and found nothing thereon, but leaves only, and said unto it, Let no fruit grow on thee henceforward for ever. And presently the fig tree withered away.
And when the disciples saw it, they marvelled, saying, How soon is the fig tree withered away!" (Matthew 21: 18-20).
There are several interesting doctrines springing forth from the Savior's comments on this poor fig tree.
The Bible Dictionary tells us that fig trees develop differently from other trees. "The tree is one of the earliest to show its fruitbuds, which appear before the leaves; thus a fig tree with leaves would be expected to also have fruit. Jesus’ cursing the fig tree for its fruitlessness (Mark 11:12–13, 20–23) was an allusion to the fruitlessness of Israel. The time when the leaves appear indicates that summer is 'nigh at hand.'"
Fig trees, and particularly fig leaves, wherever you see them, symbolize fruitfulness. Adam and Eve were given the commandment to "be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth" (Genesis 1:28). After Adam and Eve partook of the forbidden fruit, "they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons" (Genesis 3: 7). This was to serve as a covering, but also it represented God's will that they be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth. Fruitfulness also applies to good works.
The hapless fig tree produced neither fruit, and thus becomes cursed and cut off to those eternal blessings. Of course this is purely symbolic. The fig tree obviously is not capable of transgressing any law. But this innocent fig tree becomes a counterfeit, immoral, prostitute tree as it imitates the sacred reproductive act merely by displaying leaves, but in reality nothing is produced.
Jesus desires to be in the everyday details of our lives. He wants nothing more than to make life fruitful, rich, and rewarding. In modern times He has quoted from His own Olivet Discourse. In the Doctrine and Covenants we read,
"And when the light shall begin to break forth, it shall be with them like unto a parable which I will show you—
Ye look and behold the fig trees, and ye see them with your eyes, and ye say when they begin to shoot forth, and their leaves are yet tender, that summer is now nigh at hand" (D&C 45: 36-37).
The light breaking forth is the restoration of His gospel. He invites us to take full advantage of it and reap great harvests before the summer is ended. Tomorrow begins the summer months and marks an opportunity to be grateful for bounteous blessings. "The Lord requireth the heart and a willing mind; and the willing and obedient shall eat the good of the land of Zion in these last days" (D&C 64: 34).
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Saturday, May 23, 2015
Half Measures and the Prodigal Son
I vividly remember the early days of recovery, especially the first couple of weeks. At the beginning of each AA meeting, we would read from The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous a portion of chapter 5 entitled "How It Works." We would read that "half measures availed us nothing." And I heard people say, "God is everything or He's nothing."
In the early days surrender seemed impossible. I reread Step Three in the AA version: "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him." I had a hunch of what God might require from me, and I certainly did not want to turn over my entire will and my whole life just to get sober from alcohol.
Now I can't get the Prodigal Son off my mind. He has what the Big Book describes as a "moment of clarity," or in the scriptural version, "He came to himself" (Luke 15: 17). But the idea of returning to his Father with "full purpose of heart," as a spiritually begotten son, not only seems difficult, but perhaps impossible (see 3 Nephi 18: 32).
I began to plan out what I could do to graduate from AA and learn to control and manage my drinking. Perhaps I could be like the Prodigal Son and graduate from slave to servant. As the prodigal reasoned, "How many hired servants of my father’s have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger!" So thought I, "How many others can drink and get away with it." Or, "How many others can manage their lives" (see Luke 15: 17). There had to be, as the Big Book describes, "an easier, softer way."
And so I took action, like others in a previous Lukan parable, to have myself excused from "eating bread in the kingdom of God" (Luke 14:15). Many were invited to sup with the Lord, but some had new ground to care for, some had just bought new oxen (or maybe a new car), so they sought to be excused at suppertime.
And there is the crux of the matter. By surrendering to God the greatest blessings of life and eternity are to be enjoyed. But after almost 26 years of sobriety from alcohol and drugs, I'm still "a great way off," and struggle to surrender entirely (see Luke 15:20). Sometimes I'm ashamed of my feeble attempts.
But the blessings I've experienced in the attempt are beyond my ability to express. The sweet joy of the Spirit is something I never thought possible. I'm always given more than I deserve. Trying to pay back my Heavenly Father is like trying to pay back my earthly father (and mother). I just get further behind.
Like the tender mercies I feel as I study the scriptures and ponder my blessings. And like the tender mercy I received this morning with just enough sunshine to complete my Saturday walk before the rain began.
When I feel and notice I'm too weak to surrender fully and feel like Nephi to exclaim, "Notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities" (2 Nephi 4:17).
But He keeps inviting me back to sup with Him one more time.
And there is the crux of the matter. By surrendering to God the greatest blessings of life and eternity are to be enjoyed. But after almost 26 years of sobriety from alcohol and drugs, I'm still "a great way off," and struggle to surrender entirely (see Luke 15:20). Sometimes I'm ashamed of my feeble attempts.
But the blessings I've experienced in the attempt are beyond my ability to express. The sweet joy of the Spirit is something I never thought possible. I'm always given more than I deserve. Trying to pay back my Heavenly Father is like trying to pay back my earthly father (and mother). I just get further behind.
Like the tender mercies I feel as I study the scriptures and ponder my blessings. And like the tender mercy I received this morning with just enough sunshine to complete my Saturday walk before the rain began.
When I feel and notice I'm too weak to surrender fully and feel like Nephi to exclaim, "Notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities" (2 Nephi 4:17).
But He keeps inviting me back to sup with Him one more time.
Saturday, May 9, 2015
A Penitent Prodigal Returns in Royal Raiment
My memories are vivid of the awful despair on that night over 25 years ago as my soul cried out to God for help. I had not experienced a sober day in over seven years, and the thought of returning home to a former life filled me with terror. I remember the whisperings of the enemy who said I had gone too far astray and out of reach of God's help. And he defied my attempt to seek divine help by saying, "How dare you approach God after all you've done."
My plea would not seem grandiose to others, but it was earth-shaking to me. I pleaded for one sober day, perhaps hoping to sneak in the back door as a begging servant. Like the Prodigal Son, it might not be too much to ask to come back as a second-class citizen.
My addictions had carried me away to a far country--not geographically, but still I was a slave to alcohol. Seeking instant gratification I could not wait, but asked for the goods that fell to me and headed for party land. Like the prodigal, I soon was in want, followed by desperation. Like the prodigal, I "would fain have filled (my) belly with the husks that the swine did eat" (Luke 15:16). That, my friends, is addiction language. In Alcoholics Anonymous, we call it "The God Hole." It's that empty space in the middle of our souls, in the belly, the seat of feeling, that we try to fill with alcohol, drugs, sex, food, and many other things. Isaiah described it as "when an hungry man dreameth, and, behold, he eateth; but he awaketh, and his soul is empty: or as when a thirsty man dreameth, and, behold, he drinketh; but he awaketh, and, behold, he is faint, and his soul hath appetite" (Isaiah 29:8). But the thirst is never quenched and the appetite never satisfied. My friends, it's not by accident that the prophecy of the Book of Mormon occurs in the same chapter.
My prayer on July 31, 1989--my sobriety date from alcohol and drugs--was short and simple, but full of "energy of heart:" "Dear God, help me. I'm beat." Immediately, I was filled with a peace beyond my understanding, and certainly far beyond what I deserved."
In the Biblical account, the prodigal conceives an idealistic solution that goes like this:
" I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee,
And am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants.
And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him" (Luke 15:18-20).
Ditto for me. For while I was a great way off, I felt the welcoming embrace of a Heavenly Father, a Savior, an earthly father and mother, and a wonderful family. And I'm sure my sweet wife was somewhere praying that her "royal priesthood holder" (a term she later used on me) would get his act together and come find her. And perhaps my dear kids were cheering for me from the spirit world. But for me, a wife, kids, and temple blessings were all virtual impossibilities.
The Prodigal Son makes his offer, which the father flatly refuses. The father's response may have been something like, "Are you kidding. 'I gave Egypt for thy ransom'" (Isaiah 43:3). Actually, He gave more.
After a few months of sobriety, I thought perhaps I could sneak in the church doors, find a spot on the back row and nobody would notice. In a few months the bishop pulled me into his office and began talking about a return to the temple. My reply was, "Well, that's impossible, Bishop, you see, I'm an alcoholic. I expected him to say, "Thanks, I didn't know that," and excuse me from his office. Instead he did just the opposite by saying, "I know. Now let's talk about what stands between you and the temple."
The father of the Prodigal Son calls for a change of shoes, the best robe, and a ring. The change of shoes recalls Moses on the mountain of God, as the Lord says, "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground" (Exodus 3:5).
The robe would symbolize the robe of the priesthood, and would grant the son a great blessing as described by Jacob in the Book of Mormon. It would bless him with a "perfect knowledge of (his) enjoyment, and . . . righteousness, being clothed with purity, yea, even with the robe of righteousness" (2 Nephi 9:14).
The ring represents the eternal verdict of the King and His sealing power. Anciently, kings would use a signet of a ring to stamp and seal the judgment of the king. Mordecai was given authority to "write . . . also for the Jews . . . in the king’s name, and seal it with the king’s ring: for the writing which is written in the king’s name, and sealed with the king’s ring, may no man reverse" (Esther 8:8). Joseph was given a ring from Pharaoh. The scripture records,
"And Pharaoh took off his ring from his hand, and put it upon Joseph’s hand, and arrayed him in vestures of fine linen, and put a gold chain about his neck;
And he made him to ride in the second chariot which he had; and they cried before him, Bow the knee: and he made him ruler over all the land of Egypt" (Genesis 41:42-43).
I think you'll see some similarities with the Savior in this example.
This sealing power found only in the temple is more than the sealing of families, as wonderful as that is. It's the sealing described in D&C 131 as the "more sure word of prophecy," and it "means a man’s knowing that he is sealed up unto eternal life, by revelation and the spirit of prophecy, through the power of the Holy Priesthood" (D&C 131:5). It is actually the pronouncement of the son as a king and a priest, and his wife as a queen and a priestess.
Does this sound anything like the Prodigal Son's plan to return as a lowly servant?
And the promises are made sure by the older brother standing in the wings. On one level, we can see the older brother's jealousy and perhaps we read into it a bit of a temper tantrum. But on another level, this older brother is your Savior. The verse reads,
"And he was angry, and would not go in: therefore came his father out, and entreated him" (Luke 15:28).
In the original Greek it reads a little differently. The Greek word for would is thelo, and in another rather famous passage it is translated as will. I'm referring to the Savior's prayer in Gethsemane: "O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will (thelo), but as thou wilt" (Matthew 26:39).
The older brother is saying, "It's not my will to go in." But the older son's protest is unanswered. Remember they are having a sacrificial feast and the "fatted calf" in the story would represent an animal offering, and thus, a substitute sacrifice. But in the case of the Prodigal Son, the older brother would become the priest, the sacrificer, and the sacrifice. In other words, unlike Abraham and Isaac, this time there would not be a ram in the thicket. The Older Brother would feel firsthand the anguish of being in want, the shame of having to return home penniless, and to be so hungry and addicted that he would fain fill his belly with the husks the swine did eat.
I marvel that my Savior would descend so low to rescue a wretched drunk like me. I marvel in His mercy and grace, and sometimes feel glimpses of His love. I feel ever grateful for the Spirit who confirms such supernal truths as these. As I return home to a loving wife and great kids after attending my Twelve Step meeting, I feel His Spirit and know His watchful eye is upon all my brothers and sisters.
My plea would not seem grandiose to others, but it was earth-shaking to me. I pleaded for one sober day, perhaps hoping to sneak in the back door as a begging servant. Like the Prodigal Son, it might not be too much to ask to come back as a second-class citizen.
My addictions had carried me away to a far country--not geographically, but still I was a slave to alcohol. Seeking instant gratification I could not wait, but asked for the goods that fell to me and headed for party land. Like the prodigal, I soon was in want, followed by desperation. Like the prodigal, I "would fain have filled (my) belly with the husks that the swine did eat" (Luke 15:16). That, my friends, is addiction language. In Alcoholics Anonymous, we call it "The God Hole." It's that empty space in the middle of our souls, in the belly, the seat of feeling, that we try to fill with alcohol, drugs, sex, food, and many other things. Isaiah described it as "when an hungry man dreameth, and, behold, he eateth; but he awaketh, and his soul is empty: or as when a thirsty man dreameth, and, behold, he drinketh; but he awaketh, and, behold, he is faint, and his soul hath appetite" (Isaiah 29:8). But the thirst is never quenched and the appetite never satisfied. My friends, it's not by accident that the prophecy of the Book of Mormon occurs in the same chapter.
My prayer on July 31, 1989--my sobriety date from alcohol and drugs--was short and simple, but full of "energy of heart:" "Dear God, help me. I'm beat." Immediately, I was filled with a peace beyond my understanding, and certainly far beyond what I deserved."
In the Biblical account, the prodigal conceives an idealistic solution that goes like this:
" I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee,
And am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants.
And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him" (Luke 15:18-20).
Ditto for me. For while I was a great way off, I felt the welcoming embrace of a Heavenly Father, a Savior, an earthly father and mother, and a wonderful family. And I'm sure my sweet wife was somewhere praying that her "royal priesthood holder" (a term she later used on me) would get his act together and come find her. And perhaps my dear kids were cheering for me from the spirit world. But for me, a wife, kids, and temple blessings were all virtual impossibilities.
The Prodigal Son makes his offer, which the father flatly refuses. The father's response may have been something like, "Are you kidding. 'I gave Egypt for thy ransom'" (Isaiah 43:3). Actually, He gave more.
After a few months of sobriety, I thought perhaps I could sneak in the church doors, find a spot on the back row and nobody would notice. In a few months the bishop pulled me into his office and began talking about a return to the temple. My reply was, "Well, that's impossible, Bishop, you see, I'm an alcoholic. I expected him to say, "Thanks, I didn't know that," and excuse me from his office. Instead he did just the opposite by saying, "I know. Now let's talk about what stands between you and the temple."
The father of the Prodigal Son calls for a change of shoes, the best robe, and a ring. The change of shoes recalls Moses on the mountain of God, as the Lord says, "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground" (Exodus 3:5).
The robe would symbolize the robe of the priesthood, and would grant the son a great blessing as described by Jacob in the Book of Mormon. It would bless him with a "perfect knowledge of (his) enjoyment, and . . . righteousness, being clothed with purity, yea, even with the robe of righteousness" (2 Nephi 9:14).
The ring represents the eternal verdict of the King and His sealing power. Anciently, kings would use a signet of a ring to stamp and seal the judgment of the king. Mordecai was given authority to "write . . . also for the Jews . . . in the king’s name, and seal it with the king’s ring: for the writing which is written in the king’s name, and sealed with the king’s ring, may no man reverse" (Esther 8:8). Joseph was given a ring from Pharaoh. The scripture records,
"And Pharaoh took off his ring from his hand, and put it upon Joseph’s hand, and arrayed him in vestures of fine linen, and put a gold chain about his neck;
And he made him to ride in the second chariot which he had; and they cried before him, Bow the knee: and he made him ruler over all the land of Egypt" (Genesis 41:42-43).
I think you'll see some similarities with the Savior in this example.
This sealing power found only in the temple is more than the sealing of families, as wonderful as that is. It's the sealing described in D&C 131 as the "more sure word of prophecy," and it "means a man’s knowing that he is sealed up unto eternal life, by revelation and the spirit of prophecy, through the power of the Holy Priesthood" (D&C 131:5). It is actually the pronouncement of the son as a king and a priest, and his wife as a queen and a priestess.
Does this sound anything like the Prodigal Son's plan to return as a lowly servant?
And the promises are made sure by the older brother standing in the wings. On one level, we can see the older brother's jealousy and perhaps we read into it a bit of a temper tantrum. But on another level, this older brother is your Savior. The verse reads,
"And he was angry, and would not go in: therefore came his father out, and entreated him" (Luke 15:28).
In the original Greek it reads a little differently. The Greek word for would is thelo, and in another rather famous passage it is translated as will. I'm referring to the Savior's prayer in Gethsemane: "O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will (thelo), but as thou wilt" (Matthew 26:39).
The older brother is saying, "It's not my will to go in." But the older son's protest is unanswered. Remember they are having a sacrificial feast and the "fatted calf" in the story would represent an animal offering, and thus, a substitute sacrifice. But in the case of the Prodigal Son, the older brother would become the priest, the sacrificer, and the sacrifice. In other words, unlike Abraham and Isaac, this time there would not be a ram in the thicket. The Older Brother would feel firsthand the anguish of being in want, the shame of having to return home penniless, and to be so hungry and addicted that he would fain fill his belly with the husks the swine did eat.
I marvel that my Savior would descend so low to rescue a wretched drunk like me. I marvel in His mercy and grace, and sometimes feel glimpses of His love. I feel ever grateful for the Spirit who confirms such supernal truths as these. As I return home to a loving wife and great kids after attending my Twelve Step meeting, I feel His Spirit and know His watchful eye is upon all my brothers and sisters.
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