Have Mercy on Me Too

On By Peter WatkinsIn 2001Leave a comment

Dear Will:

Today I turned on the air conditioner for the first time this year.  I admit that I felt a bit of trepidation as I reached for the switch, in part because a technician informed us last summer that the thing could die on us any minute, and in part because it reminded me of power shortages and rising rates.  My guess is it’s going to be a long sweaty summer.  So I don’t know about you, but I’m eager for the clouds to roll in and stay awhile.  I know: wishful thinking.

I’ve been looking forward to writing to you so that I could share with you something that moved me profoundly.  On Easter Sunday, my wife Dana had the daunting challenge of delivering the main message at our ward’s Easter service.  In spite of my obvious bias, I think I can state with some objectivity that hers was a truly extraordinary discourse, delivered with great insight and spiritual force.  So many people commented on it afterwards that I thought I would share some of it with you.

Here’s one short passage that is a sermon all by itself:

The day must have begun much like any other for blind Bartimaeus.  He probably arrived early at the main gate of Jericho, tapping his way along the familiar turns to get to the highway before the merchants, the donkeys, camels, women carrying pitchers of water on their heads.  There he would spend the day begging for bread, relying on the mercy of strangers to survive.  But on that day Bartimaeus heard the hubbub of a great multitude approaching, and he heard the news being passed along—“Jesus of Nazareth is coming.  The Messiah is here among us.” Bartimaeus, blind from birth, afraid of being trampled by the crowd, had only his ears and voice to find his Lord.  “Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me.”  Repeatedly the people told him to be quiet.  But he only cried louder, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”

Bartimaeus was profoundly aware of the perpetual darkness in which he lived.  Unlike many who are lost in spiritual darkness, he knew the Savior was his only hope, and so he cried out again and again, until Jesus, hearing his cry, called Bartimaeus to come to him.

In 1981, the Los Angeles Times reported on a woman named Anna Mae Pennica, 62 years old, blind from birth.  A doctor from the Jules Stein Institute in Los Angeles performed surgery on Mrs. Pennica and removed the rare congenital cataracts from the lens of her left eye — and she saw for the first time ever.

The newspaper account tells us that since that day, Mrs. Pennica can hardly wait to get up every morning, put on her glasses, and enjoy the changing morning light.  Think how wonderful it must have been for Anna Mae Pennica when she looked for the first time at faces she had only felt, or when she saw the colors of the Pacific sunset, or a tree waving its branches, or a bird in flight.  The miracle of seeing for the first time after a lifetime of darkness can hardly be described. . . .

The first sight that Bartimaeus’s eyes fell upon was the face of Jesus—His eyes, His compassionate all-seeing eyes.  Can you imagine that? What would you do for that sight?  There is not one of us who does not need to cry out to the Savior, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”

Do you sometimes find it hard to see in the dark?  Do you feel the need to have your sight restored from time to time?  Do you, like Bartimaeus, cry out for the Lord’s mercy?  Is there a miracle of the heart for you in this story?

I hope there’s something in that simple tale for you as there was for me.

PW

Fill Your Cruse with Oil

On By Peter WatkinsIn 2001Leave a comment

Dear Will:

How have you been? Here at our house we have been mostly busy and frazzled—business as usual, I’m afraid. I have this deep belief that we would all be better off if we found a way to heed Henry David Thoreau’s advice: “Simplify, simplify, simplify.” Of course, Henry had to go live like a hermit in the woods to pull that off. With neither the woods nor the means at my disposal, I remain content to simply read Walden and continue feeling frazzled. (By the way: If you’ve never read it, you ought to. It’s a true classic.)

Speaking of classics, I was sharing a Bible story with my children the other day and thought of you. We were talking about Elijah, one of the great characters of the scriptures. He first appears in First Kings, chapter 17, wherein he picks a pretty good fight with King Ahab. Right off, Elijah draws his line in the sand: “As the Lord God of Israel liveth,” he says, “there shall not be dew nor rain these years, but according to my word” (1 Kings 17:1). Then he sneaks off to live by a brook and be fed by ravens (how cool is that?).

The truly noteworthy part, however, is what comes next. The Lord sends Elijah to the town of Zeraphath, where he is to find a widow woman to take care of him. As you may recall, the unexpected twist of the story comes when Elijah finds the woman and asks for something to eat. She responds this way: “I have not a cake, but an handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse: and, behold, I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it for me and my son, that we may eat it, and die” (1 Kings 17:12).

Now comes the tricky part—the test of the woman’s faith. Says Elijah: “Fear not; go and do as thou hast said: but make me thereof a little cake first, and bring it unto me, and after make for thee and for thy son (1 Kings 17:13). Notice that Elijah didn’t say, “Could you make me one while you’re at it?” On the contrary, he asked the woman to feed him first before preparing the meal for herself and her son. Here’s why: “For thus saith the Lord,” declared Elijah, “The barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail, until the day that the Lord sendeth rain upon the earth. And she went and did according to the saying of Elijah: and she, and he, and her house, did eat for many days. And the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord, which he spake by Elijah” (1 Kings 17:14-16).

The lesson of this story is simple, yet profound. The widow and all her house were blessed far beyond her simple act of faith, simply because she was willing to heed the counsel of the Prophet. Imagine how her story would have been different had she given a different, seemingly reasonable response such as this: “I’m sorry, but my child’s needs come first; you’ll have to ask someone else.” Read the concluding verses of the chapter and you’ll find out to what degree the woman was actually taking care of her child by showing faith in the Prophet’s counsel.

The main reason I bring all this up (besides the fact that it’s a great story) is that the Church’s semi-annual General Conference is coming up next week and I wanted to remind you of it. On Saturday, March 31, and Sunday, April 1, you can sit in the comfort of your own home and hear the counsel of a living Prophet, Gordon B. Hinckley. Sessions are typically broadcast on cable with sessions at 9 a.m. and 1 p.m. each day. Even if you have other stuff you have to do around the house, I encourage you to turn on the Conference and let it play in the background. It will bring a marvelous spirit into your home.

It will also give you a chance to listen to a Prophet of God and exercise your faith by heeding his word. Given the widow’s experience, it’s an almost irresistible opportunity. I know that it will be a blessing to our family, and I am looking forward to the chance. I hope you’ll take advantage of it too.

Best wishes to you and yours.

PW

Settling for a Tonka Truck

On By Peter WatkinsIn 2001Leave a comment

Dear Will:

Today we celebrated my son Seth’s second birthday. Throwing a party for two-year-olds is a little tricky since they are as likely to become interested in their shoelaces as in the activity of the moment. Recognizing that we would not have a whole lot of attention span to work with, my wife and I designed a lot of activities that could go start-to-finish in a few minutes and which could be abandoned without consequence should our constituents wander off to play under the kitchen table. We also had the good sense to invite just one other two-year-old to the party.

Everything pretty much went as expected. I felt a bit like a sheepdog from time to time, but for the most part the kids got into it.  (One piece of advice: Next time you’re entertaining two-year-olds, skip the piñata.) When it came time to open presents, you can probably guess what happened: After opening the first gift (a giant Tonka truck), Seth was pretty much done. We kept foisting other presents upon him, but we could easily have stopped after the truck and he would have been perfectly happy. There are still a half a dozen other presents remaining to be opened, but to be honest Seth really couldn’t care less.

His indifference is to be expected, I suppose, but I admit to feeling a little disappointed. We got him some really great stuff (a real Radio Flyer tricycle, for example) but he’s willing to settle for much less. Now I realize the guilty parties in this little tableau are the eager-to-spoil parents rather than the content-with-what-he-has toddler, but nevertheless it occurs to me that the whole thing is in a small way emblematic of a common, eternal phenomenon.

I’ve got a pretty good hunch that our Heavenly Father has a lot He would like to give us—in fact, we are probably incapable of conceiving the enormity of it. But His ability to give is constrained by our ability to receive. In the Book of Mormon we read:

For behold, thus saith the Lord God: I will give unto the children of men line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little; and blessed are those who hearken unto my precepts, and lend an ear unto my counsel, for they shall learn wisdom; for unto him that receiveth I will give more; and from them that shall say, We have enough, from them shall be taken away even that which they have.  (2 Nephi 28:30)

I wonder how often I have prevented God from blessing me because I have not taken full advantage of that with which he has previously blessed me. I fear that my indifference has deprived me of greater blessings. And I wonder to what degree my own lack of faith in this life may prevent Him from bestowing upon me the unfathomable blessings of eternity that He has promised “those who love Him.”

I’d hate to settle for the Tonka truck when He is prepared to give me a Radio Flyer—if you know what I mean. It may be a lame analogy, but it seems relevant to me, especially as I consider how easily distracted I become in pursuit of my spiritual goals. I guess in the eternal scheme I’m the two-year-old, and I’m hoping that you’re more grown up than I. Here’s hoping, in any case, that you’re quick to acknowledge the ways in which God has blessed you, and that He may bless you much more in the months to come.

PW