Hello! to family and friends at the end of a really
discouraging week. It was really rough. I'm lucky to have a strong companion,
supportive mission leaders, and a loving Heavenly Father.
Quote of the week--while grabbing a bite to eat at a
members' house with the elders (the members took us to the Hopewell Rocks this
morning):
Elder Roberts (quizzing us): "Hey, guess what this
dessert is called!"
Sister Taylor (one of the members, from England):
"They're butter tarts."
Elder Roberts: "You just gave it away!"
Elder Widdup: "Hmmm.... I think they're called....
butter tarts."
Elder Roberts: "Butter tarts are so good...."
(points to a huge plate of cupcakes) "But I have a question, Sister Taylor,
what are those called?"
Sister Taylor: "Those? They're... just cupcakes,
dear."
He legitimately didn't know they were cupcakes. I couldn't
stop laughing (like, seriously, for the rest of the time I broke into laughter
every time I looked at the cupcakes). Maybe you had to be there....
Sam's* father won't let her be baptized anymore. We found
that out a couple hours after dropping almost all of our investigators because
they haven't been progressing. It was really difficult. And that was the cherry
on top of a giant sundae full of exhaustion from being in my area so little
over the course of the last 3 weeks, training all the sisters in the zone.
Honestly, I'm completely exhausted and burnt out. It's amazing how much my
testimony has grown of the enabling power of the Atonement. It's through times
like this that I really feel prayers strengthen me. I'm feeling pretty darn
week and tired right now, and if I didn't have the Atonement, or the divinity
of my calling, or the prayers of so many people, I probably would have just
buckled. It's very humbling to feel--almost tangibly--a power that's not my own
carry me to do more than I can do. So basically we're in for a week of mostly
knocking on doors again, and it's going to take extra focus not to lose faith,
now that there's no way Sister Olson and I are able to baptize together this
transfer like we wanted (they have to come to church a certain number of times
before baptism) and now that our area is starting to feel the weight of us
being out of it so frequently recently. Not much is going on despite lots of
work, and it's hard. But if there's one thing I learned on my mission, I can't
lower my expectations because of discouragement. Lowering my expectations
weakens my faith.
On another note, I've been giving a lot of thought recently
to a couple things that keep coming up and are very related: fathers and the
priesthood. Yesterday was Father's Day, and Elder Widdup gave a talk on the
priesthood. From what I hear from a member in the ward, there is a LOT of awful
things going on in the media right now regarding the priesthood. Our Relief
Society lesson was on the oath and covenant of the priesthood, which Sister
Burton wrote an article on in the June Ensign. My little brother ordained my
other little brother with the priesthood yesterday. And as I've been giving it
so much thought the last couple days, here I go vomiting all my thoughts out
about it right now:)
I remember when I was a little girl (5, I think), my family
went camping with my cousins. From what my 5-year-old memory tells me, we were
camping in the middle of tons of rock--not really any trees or anything living.
Just lots and lots of rock. It was really hot.
I have a cousin I'm very close to who's about 6 months
younger than me who was with us. One day, our dads climbed a smaller
"mountain" right near our campsite, and when they got to the top, the
two of us watched them and because the clouds behind them were moving so
quickly, it looked like they, our dads, were actually moving with the mountain.
We thought it was neat, so when they came down, they took us back up with them
and from the top, we waved to our little sisters at the bottom so they could
see the same thing: us moving on the mountain.
A little while later, my cousin and I decided to go do it
again, this time without our dads. We'd seen them do it and wanted to be like
them and decided to give it a shot. As we started, it was a little harder
without our dads though, and my cousin was smart and turned around to go back
down before we got very far. I wanted to get to the top so I could move with
the mountain, so I kept going. In fact, I really kept going--I didn't stop for a
really long time, and when I stopped to turn around and look at the campsite
and show my family where I was, the site wasn't there anymore. It was gone. So
I walked a little farther so I find the site. It was gone. I couldn't see them
anywhere. I walked for a really long time and I got scared and anxious. I don't
know how long I was lost up there for, but it was getting dark. I remember
saying a prayer and some time later, my dad found me and carried me back down.
In fact, we have a picture of us together that night from after we made it back
to the camp site--I'm sitting on top of his shoulders and we have the same
exact sober expression on our faces of worry and fatigue. It was a humbling
experience that I've thought about a lot because of the heartbreaking attack
the world has on dads and their divine roles right now.
I think it's pretty well established now that women and
mothers are attacked in the media--we need to be skinnier, we need to look
younger, we can't have wrinkles. We have to have perfectly straight teeth and
smooth skin. And because of all that, motherhood is downplayed--children limit
you. Do what YOU want in life first, before having kids. And sometimes
stay-at-home moms are looked down on. And that's all tragic. It's well-accepted
that women are attacked.
But I think it's sad the types of ways men are put down
too... Women rolling their eyes and making comments about how lazy men are, or
how illogical they are, and more. I think that's sad because my dad is my hero.
And the fact is that the family is ordained of God. Men and
women are equal, and they are different, and that's the way God intended it to
be. And God gives His priesthood authority to men and men only, and that's the
way it is. And if the Church ever changed its doctrine according to polls and
protests of women wanting the priesthood, then it would me man's church and no
longer God's.
Women have special roles and responsibilities like men do.
There are reasons God chose women to be mothers. And I think there's a reason
God chose men to hold the priesthood.
Melvin J. Ballard describes this incredibly, after relating
the story of Abraham and Isaac, and how difficult it must have been for father
Abraham to sacrifice his only son:
"Our Father in Heaven went through all that and more,
for in His case the hand was not stayed. He loved His Son, Jesus Christ, better
than Abraham ever loved Isaac, for our Father had with Him His Son, our
Redeemer, in the eternal worlds, faithful and true for ages, standing in a
place of trust and honor, and the Father loved Him dearly, and yet He allowed
this well-beloved Son to descend from his place of glory and honor, where
millions did him homage, down to the earth, a condescension that is not within
the power of man to conceive. He came to receive the insult, the abuse, and the
crown of thorns. God heard the cry of His Son in that moment of great grief and
agony, in the garden when, it is said, the pores of his body opened and drops
of blood stood upon him, and he cried out: 'Father, if thou be willing, remove
this cup from me.'
"I ask you, what father and mother could stand by and
listen to the cry of their children in distress, in this world, and not render
aid and assistance? I have heard of mothers throwing themselves into raging
streams when they could not swim a stroke to save their drowning children,
rushing into burning buildings, to rescue those whom they loved.
"We cannot stand by and listen to those cries without
its touching our hearts. The Lord has not given us the power to save our own.
He has given us faith, and we submit to the inevitable, but he had the power to
save, and he loved his Son, and he could have saved him. He might have rescued
him from the insult of the crowds. He might have rescued him when the crown of
thorns was placed upon his head. He might have rescued him when the Son,
hanging between the two thieves, was mocked with, 'Save thyself, and come down
from the cross. He saved others; himself he cannot save.' He listened to all
this. He saw that Son condemned; he saw him drag the cross through the streets
of Jerusalem and faint under its load. He saw that Son finally upon Calvary; he
saw his body stretched out upon the wooden cross; he saw the cruel nails driven
through hands and feet, and the blows that broke the skin, tore the flesh, and
let out the life’s blood of his Son. He looked upon that.
"In the case of our Father, the knife was not stayed,
but it fell, and the life’s blood of his Beloved Son went out. His Father
looked on with great grief and agony over his Beloved Son, until there seems to
have come a moment when even our Savior cried out in despair: 'My God, my God,
why hast thou forsaken me?'
"In that hour I think I can see our dear Father behind
the veil looking upon these dying struggles until even he could not endure it
any longer; and, like the mother who bids farewell to her dying child, has to
be taken out of the room, so as not to look upon the last struggles, so he
bowed his head, and hid in some part of his universe, his great heart almost
breaking for the love that he had for his Son. Oh, in that moment when he might
have saved his Son, I thank him and praise him that he did not fail us, for he
had not only the love of his Son in mind, but he also had love for us. I
rejoice that he did not interfere, and that his love for us made it possible
for him to endure to look upon the sufferings of his Son and give him finally
to us, our Savior and our Redeemer. Without him, without his sacrifice, we
would have remained, and we would never have come glorified into his presence.
And so this is what it cost, in part, for our Father in Heaven to give the gift
of his Son unto men."
I just feel so blessed when I think about how much our
Father loves us--enough to sacrifice His only perfect Son. And it's the
priesthood that helps the already-amazing men I know become the type of Father
God was to His Son. Elder Holland describes it well:
"When that unspeakable ordeal was finished, He uttered
what must have been the most peaceful and deserved words of His mortal
ministry. At the end of His agony, He whispered, 'It is finished: ...Father,
into thy hands I commend my spirit.' Finally it was over. Finally He could go
home.
"I confess that I have reflected at length upon that
moment and the resurrection which was shortly to follow it. I have wondered
what that reunion must have been like: the Father that loved this Son so much,
the Son that honored and revered His Father in every word and deed. For two who
were one as these two were one, what must that embrace have been like? What
must that divine companionship be yet? We can only wonder and admire...
"In that most burdensome moment of all human history,
with blood appearing at every pore and an anguished cry upon His lips, Christ
sought Him whom He had always sought--His Father. 'Abba,' He cried, 'Papa,' or
from the lips of a younger child, 'Daddy.'
"This is such a personal moment it almost seems a
sacrilege to cite it. A Son in unrelieved pain, a Father His only true source
of strength, both of them staying the course, making it through the
night--together."
I wish there was something I could add to the words of
Elders Ballard and Holland to perfect them, but there's not. I know that
fathers are ordained of God. I know that God has chosen them to hold His
priesthood authority. I am grateful for the blessings I receive from God
through His priesthood holders. I am grateful I live at a time when the
blessings of the priesthood are available to me. I'm grateful for my dad I
adore--who loves me and works hard and uplifts me and just wants me to be
happy. It's because of my own father and his example that I understand, to a
small degree, the love my Heavenly Father must have for me.
Love,
Sister Lewis
