Imagine with me heaven as a place called forgiveness. The sky is forgiveness, the sun is forgiveness, rain is forgiveness. Imagine that in this heaven there are no stones, only bread which is freely given. There is no hunger for we are filled with forgiveness, no thirst for we are quenched with forgiveness. Imagine we are clothed in forgiveness. Forgiveness is so present no one ever has to say the words, I forgive.
Imagine that the God of this heaven--a God-mother and a God-father--have forgiven everyone there everything. All the times anyone in that heaven has cursed them, used them, persecuted them, or hated them--all of these times have been forgiven. Imagine that mourning is a memory wrapped up in the comfort of forgiveness. Imagine that through forgiveness, everyone has been made pure and, with pure eyes, everyone sees God.
Easter came for me this year when I heard Sister L sing, so beautifully, "Weeping Mary"--Are there anybody here like Mary a-weeping. Call to my Jesus and he'll draw nigh... Glory, glory, glory, glory--Glory be to my God on High. Glory be to my God on High. I have been singing that phrase in my mind over and over since that time.
It is impossible for me to see or to imagine God without also seeing also some element of grief. We speak of God according to scripture but also according to our own experience, and in the time between when I was asked to speak on the Sermon on the Mount, and today, my 18-year-old cousin, a person who was light and who was salt to this earth, ended her own life. Her mother found her the morning after in the family garage. As I drove to work after hearing the news I tried to say aloud in prayer glory, glory, glory, glory, glory be...
Sometimes it can be easier to imagine God forgiving us than it is to imagine ourselves forgiving God, particularly in times of such heartbreak. It is easier to shake our fists at heaven, to feel betrayed, to shut God out and to blame God for suffering. How readily we turn our faces against God, question God, shout at God to change His and Her plan, now.
Isn't it interesting, however, to know that God's first commandment is to love God, with all our might, mind and strength? And that the second is to love our neighbor? Perhaps our entrance into heaven isn't barred nearly so much by our ability to forgive our brothers and sisters but our ability to forgive God. Perhaps forgiveness of God is a precursor to love of God, which is a precursor to love of man. In fact, our need to feel empathy towards God is no greater than in the moments of our own dire need. Is it any wonder then that the Sermon on the Mount, the first and longest recorded discourse of the Son of God, is a shockingly intimate reflection on what it is to be God, a discourse that begs for our empathy and for our forgiveness?
It can be easy to mistake the Sermon on the Mount as a maddeningly contradictory behavioral guidebook. But what if we cast aside that notion and instead read it as a mirror of God with which to see God. Listen to the Son of God describe His parents and their heavenly kingdom, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are they that mourn. Blessed are the meek, blessed are they which hunger and thirst after righteousness. Blessed are the merciful, blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed are the peacemakers."
Listen to him again describe them, "For what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will be give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your parents in heaven give good things to them that ask?"
But there is also this: "Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake." And this: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your parents which are in heaven."
And finally this: "Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgement ye judge, ye shall be judged." Perhaps in times of sorrow, or anger, or despair it is easy to attribute the mote in our eye as a beam in God's.
Do not get me wrong. I am not trying to say that God is in actual need of our forgiveness. Christ also says of His parents, "Be ye perfect, even as your parents which are in Heaven are perfect." I love this description of God, from Li-Young Lee's poem, "Living With Her," which could be read with any gender pronoun. "Do you love me, she asks. I love you, she answers, and the world keeps beginning." That description of God is perfectly in line with a God who is both the light of the world and a God who does alms in secret, a God who keeps scriptures so sacred, so scarce and yet spills anonymous glory on to the lilies without the slightest regard for approval or reply. But it is easy to resent God's secrets when our hopes for salvation seem so much on the line, and the actual revealed doctrine so slim.
Perhaps it is no small coincidence that the scriptures concerning Christ are so few relative to the grandeur of His doctrine. Perhaps this is the point of the Sermon on the Mount--that we are to experience Christ and experience God by asking, knocking, praying, kneeling, giving, walking. I love that the Sermon on the Mount is followed by this vignette, "When Christ was come down from the mountain, great multitudes followed him. And, behold, there came a leper and worshiped him, saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. And Jesus put forth his hand, and touched him saying, I will; be thou clean. And immediately his leprosy was cleansed."
Imagine coming to love God in this way, by saying and then doing, I will. I will mourn with those who mourn, I will comfort those that stand in need of comfort. I will bear another's burdens that they may be light. I will stand as a witness of God at times and in all things and in all places. I will come in to the fold of God, I will be called His people. I will offer my broken heart and my contrite spirit. I will forgive. Acknowledge, as Mary, that sorrow and salvation are intimately bound but that Christ has overcome all.
I imagine that forgiveness of God as I have outlined is but a mortal concept only. I picture that once in heaven the full realization of the Atonement will lead to us shouting, not weeping, Glory, glory, glory, glory, glory be to my God on high. I picture everyone we love that in this life has tasted infinite sorrow and death is, through Christ, through the plan of our Heavenly Parents, filled with infinite love and infinite life. I have felt it to be so with my cousin, I have hope for it to be so for myself, for my husband, for my son, for each of you someday, which hope I bare testimony of in the name of my Savior, Jesus Christ, amen.
Sister Doe (Anonymous)
Sacrament Meeting in USA
July 2014
Imagine that the God of this heaven--a God-mother and a God-father--have forgiven everyone there everything. All the times anyone in that heaven has cursed them, used them, persecuted them, or hated them--all of these times have been forgiven. Imagine that mourning is a memory wrapped up in the comfort of forgiveness. Imagine that through forgiveness, everyone has been made pure and, with pure eyes, everyone sees God.
Easter came for me this year when I heard Sister L sing, so beautifully, "Weeping Mary"--Are there anybody here like Mary a-weeping. Call to my Jesus and he'll draw nigh... Glory, glory, glory, glory--Glory be to my God on High. Glory be to my God on High. I have been singing that phrase in my mind over and over since that time.
It is impossible for me to see or to imagine God without also seeing also some element of grief. We speak of God according to scripture but also according to our own experience, and in the time between when I was asked to speak on the Sermon on the Mount, and today, my 18-year-old cousin, a person who was light and who was salt to this earth, ended her own life. Her mother found her the morning after in the family garage. As I drove to work after hearing the news I tried to say aloud in prayer glory, glory, glory, glory, glory be...
Sometimes it can be easier to imagine God forgiving us than it is to imagine ourselves forgiving God, particularly in times of such heartbreak. It is easier to shake our fists at heaven, to feel betrayed, to shut God out and to blame God for suffering. How readily we turn our faces against God, question God, shout at God to change His and Her plan, now.
Isn't it interesting, however, to know that God's first commandment is to love God, with all our might, mind and strength? And that the second is to love our neighbor? Perhaps our entrance into heaven isn't barred nearly so much by our ability to forgive our brothers and sisters but our ability to forgive God. Perhaps forgiveness of God is a precursor to love of God, which is a precursor to love of man. In fact, our need to feel empathy towards God is no greater than in the moments of our own dire need. Is it any wonder then that the Sermon on the Mount, the first and longest recorded discourse of the Son of God, is a shockingly intimate reflection on what it is to be God, a discourse that begs for our empathy and for our forgiveness?
It can be easy to mistake the Sermon on the Mount as a maddeningly contradictory behavioral guidebook. But what if we cast aside that notion and instead read it as a mirror of God with which to see God. Listen to the Son of God describe His parents and their heavenly kingdom, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are they that mourn. Blessed are the meek, blessed are they which hunger and thirst after righteousness. Blessed are the merciful, blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed are the peacemakers."
Listen to him again describe them, "For what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will be give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your parents in heaven give good things to them that ask?"
But there is also this: "Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake." And this: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your parents which are in heaven."
And finally this: "Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgement ye judge, ye shall be judged." Perhaps in times of sorrow, or anger, or despair it is easy to attribute the mote in our eye as a beam in God's.
Do not get me wrong. I am not trying to say that God is in actual need of our forgiveness. Christ also says of His parents, "Be ye perfect, even as your parents which are in Heaven are perfect." I love this description of God, from Li-Young Lee's poem, "Living With Her," which could be read with any gender pronoun. "Do you love me, she asks. I love you, she answers, and the world keeps beginning." That description of God is perfectly in line with a God who is both the light of the world and a God who does alms in secret, a God who keeps scriptures so sacred, so scarce and yet spills anonymous glory on to the lilies without the slightest regard for approval or reply. But it is easy to resent God's secrets when our hopes for salvation seem so much on the line, and the actual revealed doctrine so slim.
Perhaps it is no small coincidence that the scriptures concerning Christ are so few relative to the grandeur of His doctrine. Perhaps this is the point of the Sermon on the Mount--that we are to experience Christ and experience God by asking, knocking, praying, kneeling, giving, walking. I love that the Sermon on the Mount is followed by this vignette, "When Christ was come down from the mountain, great multitudes followed him. And, behold, there came a leper and worshiped him, saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. And Jesus put forth his hand, and touched him saying, I will; be thou clean. And immediately his leprosy was cleansed."
Imagine coming to love God in this way, by saying and then doing, I will. I will mourn with those who mourn, I will comfort those that stand in need of comfort. I will bear another's burdens that they may be light. I will stand as a witness of God at times and in all things and in all places. I will come in to the fold of God, I will be called His people. I will offer my broken heart and my contrite spirit. I will forgive. Acknowledge, as Mary, that sorrow and salvation are intimately bound but that Christ has overcome all.
I imagine that forgiveness of God as I have outlined is but a mortal concept only. I picture that once in heaven the full realization of the Atonement will lead to us shouting, not weeping, Glory, glory, glory, glory, glory be to my God on high. I picture everyone we love that in this life has tasted infinite sorrow and death is, through Christ, through the plan of our Heavenly Parents, filled with infinite love and infinite life. I have felt it to be so with my cousin, I have hope for it to be so for myself, for my husband, for my son, for each of you someday, which hope I bare testimony of in the name of my Savior, Jesus Christ, amen.
Sister Doe (Anonymous)
Sacrament Meeting in USA
July 2014
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