A Sure Foundation

I'm pretty sure everybody remembers that little children's song about the wise man who built his house upon a rock, and the foolish man who built his house upon the sand, right?

"And the rains came down, and the floods came up;

The rains came down, and the floods came up;
The rains came down, and the floods came up;
And the house on the rock stood firm."

It comes from the Sermon on the Mount, from Matthew chapter 7.

I've had a couple of experiences recently that have reminded me of that little song. First, someone asked me what it would take to shake my faith in God, in Jesus Christ, and in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the Mormon Church)--and I couldn't think of anything that would besides a very clear personal revelation from God. Which is, needless to say, pretty ironic. The second happened when one of my sons lost his new little baby girl due to birth defects. He said, "It was like being thrown off a cliff into a dark abyss, only to realize that I was standing on solid ground."

I've been off that cliff a few times myself for various reasons, usually sin and death, which are really just other names for rains and floods, or "shafts in the whirlwind," or "hail and mighty storm" (see Helaman 5:12). But I always found solid ground, the "rock" that stood firm beneath me even when I couldn't see a thing in the darkness.

So, what is the rock?

Helaman says the rock is our Redeemer, Jesus Christ, the Son of God. For me, it is also the things that I absolutely know are true through vivid personal experience. I can't know for certain what happened in other places and other times. But, given the way I have chosen to experience the world ("epistomology," if you will: you can look it up if you want. Or just read my last blog post), there are some things I absolutely know.

Here they are:

I know God lives and that he is a personal God who loves me, because he speaks to me. He usually speaks to my mind and heart, but I even heard his voice once. (Lucky for me and my children. I was pregnant with my first baby and about to be hit by a speeding truck.) Either way, what he says is unusually clear, and it is new to me, a "revelation" in every sense of the word. This actually happens really often.

I know that Jesus is my Savior, and he has taken upon him both sin and death. I know this because I have been healed by his power, many times, when I was in the deepest despair. This instantaneous transformation from despair to love and hope is very hard to describe unless you have experienced it yourself. But it is very powerful, real, and permanent, and it comes obviously and directly from Jesus Christ.

I know that the Book of Mormon is true. I know this because of direct revelatory experiences I have had (many times--are you seeing a pattern here?) every single time I read it. It answers my questions now and always, no matter how many times I read it, and continually offers me spiritual food.

I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the kingdom of God on the earth. Not because it is perfect or because its leaders are perfect; precisely the opposite. I have seen God use the imperfect people he has called to perform miracles in the world and in people's lives, over and over again. This is a church of miracles, and God's power is here.

I know that the temple is the House of the Lord, just like it says it is on the outside, because I have met God inside. Many times.

What forms your foundation? What do you absolutely know, through your own personal experience, is true? The experiences I have described above have happened in my life many times, over and over again. Because of them I can handle rain, floods, sin, death, loss, cognitive dissonance (look that one up, too) and weird historical stories  because I have my rock to cling to. I'd love to hear what yours is. I hope you will comment and tell me.

A Message to My Children: Choose Faith

A Message to My Children: Choose Faith

When I was 16 years old, between my junior and senior years of high school, I spent six weeks at a sort of intellectual summer camp at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. As a very naive Mormon teenager I was completely bowled over by culture shock. It was my first experience with an Ivy League university-level seminar (existentialist lyric poetry and a great deal of big-word-dropping), and my first experience with “liberated” American teenagers (smoking, drinking, casual sex).

One of our university student “mentors” was a philosophy major who took the common juvenile undergraduate delight in logically deconstructing everything I said, especially about my faith. I came home depressed and shaken. For the first time I realized that my spiritual experiences could never “prove” the truth of what I believed in.

After some months of thinking things over, I came to understand two important truths, and then made the most important decision of my life. Here are the truths:

1. You can’t prove God exists, and you can’t prove He doesn’t exist, either. You choose to believe or not by choosing which of your experiences you will accept, how you interpret them, and which people you believe. Faith in God is a choice, a premise upon which you build your world view.
   
   
2. I wanted to believe. Faith in a personal, loving God looked to me like choosing light, goodness, and joy over cynicism and emptiness. I wanted to base my life on the richness of all my experiences, including not just the evidence of my senses but also my intuitions, emotions, and transcendental spiritual moments.

So then I made my decision. I chose faith. In choosing faith, I chose also to nurture it through prayer, study, church attendance, and service to others. I chose to interpret my experiences through a spiritual lens. I chose to see the wonder of creation as evidence of a vast intelligence manipulating the universe, not just chance. I chose to distinguish between how something happens (temporal lobe visions, anyone? Evolution?) and why it happens, what it means. I chose light, goodness, and joy. As life went on I gradually discovered that I have also chosen peace, love, and a life-line in troubled times.

Terryl and Fiona Givens have written a short book, “The God Who Weeps,” that details the attributes of the God I believe in. In their preface they explain the choice to believe much better than I can. They also describe the story of a donkey who starved to death because, presented with two identically enticing and accessible piles of hay, was unable to choose one over the other.

Choose, my children. Recognize that faith is a choice. Read the preface to “The God Who Weeps”--give faith equal time (you can borrow the book from me). Consider carefully the consequences you can see in the lives of those who have chosen one way or the other. Understand that your choice will affect everyone who loves you, especially the generations of your children after you. 

“O, be wise; what can I say more?” (Jacob 6:12, from The Book of Mormon)

Lehi's Dream

Lehi’s Dream

I had my own version of Lehi’s dream the other night. It was vivid and did not end well--but I guess Lehi’s didn’t either, did it?

All of our family was standing in a sort of anteroom between this life and the next, waiting. It was a bit like the marriage waiting room at the temple. There were quite a few people there, perhaps 40 or so, not all of whom I knew. Some were seated in rows, some standing, some quiet, some conversing or milling about. But our children, and their spouses and children were there, some of our relatives and ancestors were there, and other vaguely familiar people. Everyone was the age they liked best--some youthful, some middle-aged, even a few who chose to be somewhat elderly (but vigorous). Our immediate family were gathered close together in a small knot of people. Everyone was the age they liked best--some youthful, some middle-aged, even a few who chose to be somewhat elderly (but vigorous).

My husband and I had a choice to make with our family. Should we go on into the next life? Or should we go back to our earth lives? Someone pointed out to me that if we went on, there were lots of things to do and learn. Specifically, I remember seeing a row of famous composers, mostly sitting quietly in the back row. Arnold Schoenberg was in the corner in a gray-brown linen suit, sitting with his arms folded across his chest, watching me. When I looked at him he nodded at me seriously. Mozart was running around at about age 12-13, with skinny legs in white stockings and a white wig, holding his older sister’s hand--maybe not too much help in that neighborhood!

It looked sort of like this, only more ordinary.
And we were right in the center of the street,
looking straight down it into the distance.

I turned and looked back at our earth life. It just looked like a straight road with sidewalks in a typical suburban neighborhood, with green lawns and trees in front of houses on a quiet street. But it was suffused with warm, golden light. I could tell it was early fall, and late in the afternoon, and that there wasn’t too much time left. But it was beautiful. It was also golden with the sweet, everyday activities of family life, and there was no question in my mind that we wanted to be there, to finish out the day. So all our family stepped back into earth life, glad to be there.

As soon as we stepped outside the door, however, something terrible happened. Just next to us on our left was a flimsy metal scaffolding, like the neck of a crane, running up into the dazzling blue sky as far as I could see. It looked shaky and dangerous. Immediately, before I could say a word, one of my sons said something like, “I have to catch my friend,” and bolted away up the scaffolding. His wife took their children’s hands and began to follow a little more slowly, but my son was already out of my sight.

The scaffolding was an infinite maze, full of blind corners, branchings, and dead ends. I knew I could never catch them if I followed. I worried they would lose each other, and I felt in my heart that even if they tried hard and turned back looking for each other they were likely to end up separated and alone. I saw a blind corner down a precarious side branch with a discouraged mother and two small children huddled in it, not even trying to find their way anymore. I saw a person wandering alone. The scaffolding went on and on forever, wandering into the infinite distance, long shaky branches of unsupported metal, disappearing constantly into empty blue sky or misty dark clouds. Nowhere could I see it come back down to earth again.

I screamed and cried for my son and his family to come back, but they didn’t hear me and vanished quickly from my sight. I remember hoping desperately that there was another path back down, somewhere at the end, that would reunite them with us. The only other way back was to retrace their steps back to the beginning, and I despaired of them ever being willing or able to do that. I was sick with sadness and with our separation.

Then I woke up.

The Great People I Get to Play With

 ordering pizza for lunch at Attersee: Kaylie, Caitlin, and Charles

 A long, perfect swimming day: Alissa and Gretel

 On the dock at Attersee: Sarah, Devon, Alissa, Charles, Liz, Caitlin, and Kaylie

 And let the ballet begin! Kaylie

 Devon

 Charles

 Charles flying

 Caitlin

 Sarah

 Devon's second try

 So everybody else, too: Charles

 Alissa

 Kaylie

 Liz

 Waiting for a train at Salzburg Bahnhoff: Erin, Gretel, and Eryn

 Yes, Eryn is definitely taller than the door. 

 In the rain during the Sound of Music bike tour--but we didn't care! 

 Exploring a lovely cemetery in Salzburg

 At the top of a beastly hill: Alissa and Charles (I think?)

 Taking photos of the amazing view next to the Sound of Music Abbey

 Hanging from the trees like the Von Trapp kids

And Charles, capturing it on camera.

Just a Slide Show from Austria

This is going to just be a scenic slide show, with no philosophical musings at all. So if you'd like to see what Austria looks like (and an actual photo of me in my swimsuit), enjoy!

 See, Bret, there were definitely scientists in Vienna, too! These plaques are really common, and indicate places where famous people lived in the past. They're pretty awe-inspiring.

 The entrance to a tiny Medieval alley

 Yellow Bell pepper soup at Schoenbrunn Castle. My favorite meal so far in Austria.

 A view of Schoenbrunn castle, with some of the grounds.

 The Rose Garden at Schoenbrunn.

The most common thing I see daily here: the subway station at Karlsplatz.

 Museum cafes are a necessity for exhausted feet. Plus they're amazing! Fruit tea at the Kunsthistoriche (art history) Museum.

 A room full of hilarious "study heads" by a famous (and eccentric) 17th c sculptor

 Attersee, Austria, where Mahler spent his summers. And where we spent a glorious day swimming.

 The promised swimsuit photo! Look at the SCENERY.

 Attersee

 Some of my favorite people: front L to R Alissa, Sarah, Liz, Erin, Devon
back L to R Gretel, me, Kaylie, Caitlin, Charles, Eryn

 A "train" can just be one car, if the place you are going is small enough.

 Scenery on the way from Salzburg to Hallstatt

 At the ferry post for Hallstatt, a tiny village nestled at the foot of tall mountains. It has existed since pre-historic times because of its salt mine. You've heard of toy cars? Well, Rick Steves calls this a "toy town."

 On the ferry ride.

Approaching Hallstatt: 2 "streets" wide in most places.

The door to the Hobbit House

 A Hallstatt "street"

 Drinking water from the mountain.

One of many adorable Austrian houses.

 The funicular railway up the mountain to the salt mine. I'm thinking the prehistoric miners had to walk. The railway works just like a cable car, but uses rails instead of hanging from cables.

 The view from halfway up.

At the top

A panoramic view.

 Going home on the ferry.

The view from the Hallein salt mine near Salzburg. Guess why it's called Salzburg?

A packed tourist street--but look at the signs :)

 Mozart's birthplace

 Salzburg from the bridge. Those are "love locks," with couples' names written on them.

 The prettiest cemetery I have ever scene. What's up with us having to flatten everything so we can mow the lawn?

 Notice the windows high up on the rock face. Wonder what they could be...

 On our "Sound of Music" bike tour: the roofs of Salzburg, and me with my trusty "Mother Abbess" bike.

One of many old fortress-type buildings, surrounding a Pegasus fountain. This square was used to film some scenes from "The Sound of Music"