we don't need to earn God's love
but if we want we can qualify for some of his privelages
Posts
Advent: O Sapientia
4 days ago
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
cause for optimism, the God connection part 2
(for part 1 see the previous post)
"I walked with God once" -- A misquote (of a mistranslation, ahem just kidding) of Abraham
When ever the thought of my value as a human being is called in to question it is usually in situations like this, where no query has been raised by anyone other than myself. Elaborate fantasies often take hold of my mind and will multiply explosively if left unchecked. I took a deep breath and didn't feel any better. I tried to remember that although in a deeply cynical way concocting scenarios to elevate myself over others by demeaning their value was entertaining, it was ultimately counter productive.
As a wise man once wrote (and our current Prophet practically deemed this story scripture): "[We are] all fellow passengers to the grave and not another race bound on other journeys." I paused. Yes, it appeared that I was still human. Given that I had ample time to process this evolving train of thought, and as I found myself though bound together with my fellow beings in principle, still I was temporarily separated from them by my malaise on my metaphorical island, I dug deep into my spiritual pockets and dusted off an old key.
In another time and another place I (and everyone else) lived with God and for reasons that I can't fathom we all thought it was a good idea that we should - if the thought wasn't too presumptuous - try and become like him. This means that I am a being of limitless potential. This means that my value is innate and not determined by what I do. This means that when I do my best and stumble it's OK, because God's promises are sure. I am God's son. God is love. His love is in me. This doesn't mean that I am a grinning idiot. Optimists are wonderful people, but hyper optimists scare me. Yes, we should be thankful in all things, yes we desire to endure all things, but there is a time to laugh and a time mourn, that doesn't mean we should laugh our way through cancer... I was getting ahead of myself, I managed to stultify the oncoming rant, perhaps for tonight at least, the time for mourning was at an end.
I had the key all I needed now was the ignition. The late Gordon B. Hinckley would provide the necessary machinery. At his funeral service, one of the apostles mentioned two behaviours that determined our beloved prophet's success in life. They were simply that he did his best, and he believed that everything would work out in the end. This is a sure fire formula for success. To be sure we will not always produce the results we desire, but if we can answer honestly at the end of each day that we've lived these two simple principles then we will succeed in the grand scheme of things, because in the end we will be with and be like God. Perhaps God can make an optimist of me yet. A group of wandering YSA were making their way toward the car. I managed to crack a miniature smile. I am Loren Hopkins. I am God waiting to happen. So is everyone.
To Be Continued...
"I walked with God once" -- A misquote (of a mistranslation, ahem just kidding) of Abraham
When ever the thought of my value as a human being is called in to question it is usually in situations like this, where no query has been raised by anyone other than myself. Elaborate fantasies often take hold of my mind and will multiply explosively if left unchecked. I took a deep breath and didn't feel any better. I tried to remember that although in a deeply cynical way concocting scenarios to elevate myself over others by demeaning their value was entertaining, it was ultimately counter productive.
As a wise man once wrote (and our current Prophet practically deemed this story scripture): "[We are] all fellow passengers to the grave and not another race bound on other journeys." I paused. Yes, it appeared that I was still human. Given that I had ample time to process this evolving train of thought, and as I found myself though bound together with my fellow beings in principle, still I was temporarily separated from them by my malaise on my metaphorical island, I dug deep into my spiritual pockets and dusted off an old key.
In another time and another place I (and everyone else) lived with God and for reasons that I can't fathom we all thought it was a good idea that we should - if the thought wasn't too presumptuous - try and become like him. This means that I am a being of limitless potential. This means that my value is innate and not determined by what I do. This means that when I do my best and stumble it's OK, because God's promises are sure. I am God's son. God is love. His love is in me. This doesn't mean that I am a grinning idiot. Optimists are wonderful people, but hyper optimists scare me. Yes, we should be thankful in all things, yes we desire to endure all things, but there is a time to laugh and a time mourn, that doesn't mean we should laugh our way through cancer... I was getting ahead of myself, I managed to stultify the oncoming rant, perhaps for tonight at least, the time for mourning was at an end.
I had the key all I needed now was the ignition. The late Gordon B. Hinckley would provide the necessary machinery. At his funeral service, one of the apostles mentioned two behaviours that determined our beloved prophet's success in life. They were simply that he did his best, and he believed that everything would work out in the end. This is a sure fire formula for success. To be sure we will not always produce the results we desire, but if we can answer honestly at the end of each day that we've lived these two simple principles then we will succeed in the grand scheme of things, because in the end we will be with and be like God. Perhaps God can make an optimist of me yet. A group of wandering YSA were making their way toward the car. I managed to crack a miniature smile. I am Loren Hopkins. I am God waiting to happen. So is everyone.
To Be Continued...
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
cause for optimism, the god connection part 1
Another Sunday, another fireside. I sat in the aisle trying my best to appreciate the mostly well sung musical pieces presented. I can't sing, neither can Simon Cowell, but that's no reason not to criticise those who can and do. That's a wonderfully banal boys 2 men impression, I've heard dying cats deliver better harmonies. You know that kind of up beat positive reinforcement, which is usually, thankfully, kept confined to my head (and none would be the wiser, if not for this blog).
As soon as it was all over I Usain bolted for the door, hands in pockets, as to discourage any free ranging happy hand shakers from testing to see if I was unarmed or a disembodied spirit or possibly just from saying hi. A simple double eye brow raise with a slight head pop would have to suffice as a method for acknowledging each others existence. I can be a real sociable guy if you catch me in the right mood.
I made my way to the car park, propping myself up on the car of the kind person who drove me there. Surrounded by my own isolation, I drank in the self-imposed loneliness. It had a bitter after taste. Was I experiencing a watered down preview of outer darkness? I looked up at the stars, but they seemed just as distant as the people who were still grazing in their social circles back in the chapel. I was an outlier from the parabola of which I secretly longed to be a part. My only comfort came from this thought: I'll show 'em, I'll show 'em all.
TO BE CONTINUED (the optimistic part starts really soon, I promise)...
As soon as it was all over I Usain bolted for the door, hands in pockets, as to discourage any free ranging happy hand shakers from testing to see if I was unarmed or a disembodied spirit or possibly just from saying hi. A simple double eye brow raise with a slight head pop would have to suffice as a method for acknowledging each others existence. I can be a real sociable guy if you catch me in the right mood.
I made my way to the car park, propping myself up on the car of the kind person who drove me there. Surrounded by my own isolation, I drank in the self-imposed loneliness. It had a bitter after taste. Was I experiencing a watered down preview of outer darkness? I looked up at the stars, but they seemed just as distant as the people who were still grazing in their social circles back in the chapel. I was an outlier from the parabola of which I secretly longed to be a part. My only comfort came from this thought: I'll show 'em, I'll show 'em all.
TO BE CONTINUED (the optimistic part starts really soon, I promise)...
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
yes, I'm really desperate for content
Happy thought for the day:)
The YSA: The only group in the church where the point of the group is not to be part of the group. If you're lucky you become an SA at which point there is no hope for you. Someone's got to be the ministering angels.
The YSA: The only group in the church where the point of the group is not to be part of the group. If you're lucky you become an SA at which point there is no hope for you. Someone's got to be the ministering angels.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
