Faith as a Grain of Mustard Seed

Book of Abraham 1:1-2 manuscript in handwriting of William W. Phelps, Summer 1835
courtesy of the Joseph Smith Papers Project Website

During my scripture study this past week, I ended up revisiting a familiar story in Luke 17.  Having been instructed by the Lord that they were to learn more about how to forgive those who trespassed against them, the Savior's disciples made an interesting request of the Master.  They pled, "Lord, Increase our faith" (Luke 17:5).  At one time or another, and in some way or another, I believe that each of us has uttered this same request.  Like the disciples, we realize how weak our faith can often be and how subject to unbelief we often are.  As Elder Bruce R. McConkie once said, I believe we all wish that we had "faith like Enoch and Elijah" or Joseph Smith, or Brigham Young, or Thomas S. Monson, or our faithful forebears.  And the list goes on and on.  Because "faith has a short shelf life," we all have times when we find ourselves in short supply, pleading with the Lord as did the disciples, "Lord, Increase our faith!"

Given the sincerity with which we make such pleadings, then, the Lord's response to the disciples' request is interesting.  He said, "If ye had faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye might say unto this sycamine tree, Be thou plucked up by the root, and be thou planted in the sea; and it should obey you" (Luke 17:6).  The word "as" is a very important word in this verse, and its meaning is critical to grasping what the Lord was saying here.  Generally whenever I have read this verse, I have unwittingly read "faith the size of a grain of mustard seed," interpreting the Lord's statement to speak of quantity.  And certainly this is a valid and valuable reading of the verse.  Sometimes, we are lacking faith in sufficient quantities and thus struggle to accomplish the great works of faith.  But I believe this phrase can be read in another way as well.  Perhaps the Lord was also meaning for us to read, "faith like a grain of mustard seed," suggesting not only the quantity of one's faith, but also the quality of that faith.

This meaning generally escapes us because we are not prone to think of mustard seeds having and exercising faith.  And in most senses of the word, they most likely do not.  But as I considered this idea, I remembered Mormon's words recorded in Helaman 12.  There he spoke of man's frequent slowness and unwillingness to hearken to the words of the Lord, and he concluded that men are "less than the dust of the earth" (Hel. 12:7).  Explaining this statement, Mormon wrote, "For behold, the dust of the earth moveth hither and thither, to the dividing asunder, at the command of our great and everlasting God" (Hel. 12:8).  Abraham even spoke of the elements obeying the Creator (see Abraham 4:18).  Considering all of this, it hit me that to have "faith as a grain of mustard seed" can also mean to have the kind of faith that is always obedient to the will of God; that is always seeking to learn and comply with His commandments.

For the Lord to increase the faith of His disciples (and for Him to increase our faith) required effort, commitment, and obedience on their parts.  If we would commit to obeying the words of the Lord with the same dedication as a tiny mustard seed or a speck of dust, our faith would increase and become powerful.  But no divine gift of additional faith can ever change us without our corresponding willingness to seek out and obey the will of the Lord.

In our quest for greater faith, we ought to be like our faithful father Abraham, who, "finding there was greater happiness and peace and rest for [himself]..., sought for the blessings of the fathers, and the right whereunto [he] should be ordained to administer the same; and having been [himself] a follower of righteousness, desiring also to be one who possessed great knowledge, and to be a greater follower of righteousness, and to possess a greater knowledge, and to be a father of many nations, a prince of peace, and desiring to receive instructions, and to keep the commandments of God, [he] became a rightful heir, a High Priest, holding the right belonging to the fathers" (Abraham 1:2).  Abraham knew that his quest for greater faith, peace, happiness, and rest, was not something the Lord could simply give Him.  It was something he had to become through faith and righteousness, as well as from the transformative gifts of Heaven.  "If we are to have faith like Enoch and Elijah [and Abraham] we must believe what they believed, know what they knew, and live as they lived."  These men had faith like unto a grain of mustard seed.  They were firmly committed to learning and doing the will of the Lord, and striving to obey every commandment that He gave unto them.  If we would be like them, we must manifest this same kind of faith.

Brett

Voices from the Dust

President Spencer W. Kimball accompanied by D. Arthur Haycock, circa 1974

This week I have been thinking a lot about family.  Earlier in the week I came across a couple of talks that my grandfather, D. Arthur Haycock, had delivered in behalf of President Spencer W. Kimball entitled "Remember the Mission of the Church" and "The Lord Expects Righteousness."  The blog won't let me post the whole talks, but here is a part that I loved from "The Lord Expects Righteousness" in the October 1982 Conference.

Finding that my cousin was on facebook and thinking she might be interested, I shared the links with her.  She posted them on her facebook page, tagging each of the cousins so that they would all be made aware of the video.  The result was an interesting facebook gathering of cousins sharing thoughts and feelings about our Nana and Papa Haycock.  The thoughts and memories shared there were touching.  One of my cousins wrote, "Amazing timing, thank you.  It's been a long day and long week...but this brought things back into perspective."  It was amazing that these two talks seemed to have the same effect upon all of us cousins, reminding us of things we had forgotten, a familiar voice that we loved, and one of "those angel faces [smiling], which we have loved long since and lost awhile."

Such feelings shouldn't be surprising.  We are a Church that believes in the value and power of voices that "speak from the dust" (2 Nephi 26:16).  But it seems that no matter how many times I hear those voices, they still move me in the same way.  They still remind me of a noble heritage I carry and of the importance of honoring that heritage.  After this experience early in the week, I received a package in the mail yesterday from the Church Archives.  They had digitized two talks that my Papa gave at a workshop for Church secretaries in 1983.  Today as I drove to Church, I listened to one of them and heard the following sage counsel:

"Some of the jobs we have may not always be to our liking.  I had one that I hated with a passion.  I wept over it.  The war came along.  I had been [at the Church offices] for six years.  I was happy and ready to stay the rest of my life.  And the [Second] World War came.  Pearl Harbor came.  And they came to President Hinckley and to me and a couple of others and said 'You can't stay here any longer.  You're pre-Pearl Harbor fathers.  We don't want you in the Army.  But you can't work in an office.  You've got to go to the railroad or the smelters or to the mines and make a contribution in one of the war efforts.'  President Hinckley and I ended up in the railroad.  I hated every minute of it.  It wasn't my way of life.  I wasn't happy.  I'd trained to work in an office.  I hadn't trained to swing a sixteen pound sledge hammer or roll around in tobacco juice or oil and grease and dirt.  I didn't like it.  And then President Hinckley went to Denver to the headquarters and I came over to the depot and put on a cap and brass buttons and was a station master in his place.  And so I learned all about trains and railroads and the time tables.  Finally the war was over.  [The Church] asked me to come back.  The President of the Church, George Albert Smith, invited me in and said he wanted me to travel with him.  He was a railroad nut; a railroad buff.  I was the first person he had ever found that could read a time table.  We became instant friends and associates because of the experience I had with the worst experience of my life.  I got a training that helped me for the rest of my life and started me on a road of being secretary to several Presidents of the Church.  It came out of that terrible experience that was forced upon me, but I learned something from it that benefitted me and blessed me later on and has blessed me ever since" (D. Arthur Haycock, Secretaries Week Address, 27 April 1983, LDS Church Archives).

I was two years and six days old at the time my grandfather gave this talk.  I highly doubt he ever thought I would hear it, much less benefit from it.  But in the middle of a talk that he gave in 1983, he spoke very personally and very directly to his 31 year old grandson in 2012.  He reminded me that sometimes the hardest and most undesirable things we are asked to do yield the most profound blessings in our lives.  He reminded me that the Lord has a plan for me and He knows where I need to go and what I need to do to gain the experiences and abilities that I will need to be able to carry out that plan.

There are a lot of reasons why the Lord has asked us to search out our kindred dead.  Clearly, providing them with the ordinances of the House of the Lord is the most critical of these reasons.  But I firmly believe that there are blessings that extend beyond the satisfaction of knowing that we have done for them what they could not do for themselves.  I believe that in searching out our ancestry, including and perhaps particularly those who do not need help with their temple ordinances, we will find lessons, principles, and even occasionally scripture to guide us in our lives and help us along the path to eternal life.  If my time in Texas has taught me anything, it has taught me that I do not want any part of a heaven that does not include family and relationships.  For me, such a place would not be fit to be called heaven.  Gratefully, ours is a Church that preaches of enduring families and eternal relationships bound by the Holy Priesthood of God, unified by the infinite Atonement of Christ, and sanctified by a shared commitment to lives of holiness and obedience to the principles of godliness.

Brett

"It's Just a Game"

David, Brett, and Papa Wearing the Wrong Colors, Christmas 1992

This morning as I was still trying to work off the disappointment of last night's BYU game, I set to thinking about my enthusiasm for BYU sports, trying to understand why it is that I inflict so much pain and anxiety on myself by being a fan of them.  As I thought about this, a phrase that I have heard over and over again throughout my life (usually in connection with a poor performance by BYU) came to mind:  "It's just a game."

The meaning behind this statement is absolutely true.  Even as a devoted fan, I am a firm believer in the idea that as a society we have placed too much emphasis upon sports.  It has become a big business, and in many regards has undermined the commitment of universities and colleges to academic excellence.  And hitting a little closer to home, anyone who has ever watched a BYU game with me can probably attest that the experience is memorable (and not usually in a good way).  Legends abound among family and friends of what it is like to watch a game with Brett Dowdle.  While I have made a lot of strides to improve in recent years, I am still not proud of just how hard it can be for me to contain my emotions during a football or basketball game that isn't going well for the Y.  As Elder Holland referred to this past Sunday in his CES Fireside, "Israel, Israel, God is Calling," I have often be guilty of "checking my religion at the door" and not being the best of disciples in the sporting arena.  I am ashamed to admit all this, but it is true.

So given all these issues, why do I bother?  Is there any real value to all of this besides the entertainment value of seeing a team perform well from time to time?  I believe there is.  And so this is my attempt to explain why, for me, there are reasons why it's not just a game.  There are reasons why, if I can learn to control my temper and the anxiety that sports cause me, there is value in still being a fan and supporting the team.

I don't want to go into sports analogies for life, which have their value.  Certainly there is value in learning about winning gracefully, losing with class, working hard, etc.  All of that is important, but it isn't why I am a fan.  At the most basic and fundamental level, I am a fan because of the way that BYU sports have shaped and influenced my relationships.  I am a fan because BYU sports gave me an opportunity to connect with people that I love.

Going to games with my Dad and my brother Rob has been one of the most memorable and happy activities of my life.  One of my earliest and happiest memories is of watching a BYU game (against Utah State I believe) on a rare Saturday afternoon that my Dad had off from work at ZCMI.  I don't remember anything else about it other than Dad and BYU football.  As I got older, I remember Dad getting 2 season tickets to the basketball games each year.  Since there would usually be 2 games a week, Rob would get to go to one game and I would go to the other, always with Dad.  As I've gotten older, I've realized more and more how much of a sacrifice those tickets were for my parents, not only financially but also in terms of time.  Dad didn't get many free evenings, but for several years in a row, he found two evenings a week to spend with Rob and me watching BYU basketball games.  When both Rob and I had graduated from BYU, we made one of the best decisions we have ever made and started buying regular season tickets to the football games.  We bought three tickets so that we could take Dad with us and watch the games alongside him.  Between 2005 and 2010 I saw a lot of wins, a few losses, annoyed more than my fair share of surrounding spectators, and spent memorable hours with Dad and Rob.  Last season my parents flew down to Texas to see me and I got to go to one game with Dad (BYU v. TCU).  It was one of the best parts of last Fall semester.

I remember watching games on TV with my Grandma Dowdle--who had learned to enjoy BYU sports because my Grandpa Dowdle loved them.  I remember going to games with my Papa Haycock and watching in amazement as he seemed to find somebody he knew everywhere he went (little did I know, he actually did know someone just about everywhere he went).  Rob and I went to the 1990 Holiday Bowl (admittedly a very forgettable game) and several other games with my aunt Marilyn and my cousin Becky.  Even having family members who cheered for the University of Utah added to the experience for me because it always included a little bit of light hearted ribbing, a few moments of shame and humiliation, lots of laughs, and plenty of happy memories.  During college, Rob and I went to countless games with roommates and friends.  The games became a place where in between all the yelling and screaming, I formed close relationships and had memorable experiences that shaped my life.

Now that I'm in Texas, I still watch the games.  I can't help myself and can't even turn it off when it gets ugly.  But it isn't the same as the last five years watching the games without Dad and Rob.  I don't find it nearly as fulfilling when we win because it isn't like being there with my family.  As much as I love the game, for me it has always been more than just a game.  :)

Brett

Plain and Precious Truths

My Niece Maurine

Today I taught my first class as the Gospel Essentials teacher in my ward.  The class was on baptism, and we were blessed to have a range of long time members, brand new members, and one investigator in the room.  The class seemed to go really well, but I am realizing that this class presents a whole new challenge for me as a teacher:  Plainness and Simplicity.  I try to be plain and simple whenever I teach, but admittedly I am rarely successful at that task.  I'm not very good at following manuals and it has been several years since I have really had to boil the principles of the gospel down to the plain and simple truths that children, new members, and investigators need in order to grasp the gospel.

More and more, I am learning that I should take my cues from my three-(soon to be four)-year-old niece Maurine (Mauri for short).  While I was talking to my sister Stephanie the other day, she told me that Mauri had gotten on the phone just long enough to say hello and to say that she (Mauri) was a child of God.  While Mauri may not understand everything she needs to know yet, she has grasped one of the most basic and fundamental truths of eternity: that she is a daughter of a Heavenly Father who loves her and she loves Him.  And that truth defines her.

The gospel certainly goes deeper than the so-called Sunday School answers.  And sometimes we throw those answers out too flippantly and with too little consideration and pondering.  But there is great value in remembering "the most plain and precious parts of the gospel of the Lamb" (1 Nephi 13:34).  In a world that tries to complicate everything and that encourages us to be impressed with our own intelligence and wit, there is value in remembering that the gospel of Jesus Christ is most powerful when it is taught in purity, simplicity, and plainness.  At some point I expect to learn that at the age of three Mauri actually understood the gospel far more deeply than did I, and the simplicity with which she taught it was the way it is actually the way it is supposed to be taught.

Brett

Learning to Discern the Spirit of the Lord

Spencer W. Kimball, October 1982 General Conference

This morning as I studied my scriptures, I came was impressed by some lessons about the idea of revelation that--while perhaps not ground shaking to anyone else--moved me deeply.  After beginning my study in Mosiah 4:2-3, I felt impressed to take a look back at an old talk of President Hinckley's entitled Priesthood Restoration, given at a devotional on May 15, 1988.  In this talk, President Hinckley recounted the following:

"I was not present when John the Baptist conferred the Aaronic Priesthood.  I was not present when Peter, James, and John conferred the Melchizedek Priesthood.  But I was present and was a participant and a witness to what occurred on Thursday, June 1, 1978.  My memory is clear concerning the events of that day. . . . The question of extending the blessings of the priesthood to blacks had been on the minds of many of the Brethren over a period of years.  It had repeatedly been brought up by Presidents of the Church.  It had become a matter of particular concern to President Spencer W. Kimball.  Over a considerable period of time he had prayed concerning this serious and difficult question.  He had spent many hours in that upper room in the temple by himself in prayer and meditation.  On this occasion he raised the question before his Brethren--his Counselors and the Apostles.  Following this discussion we joined in prayer in the most sacred of circumstances.  President Kimball himself was voice in that prayer.  I do not recall the exact words that he spoke.  But I do recall my own feelings and the nature of the expressions of my Brethren.  There was a hallowed and sanctified atmosphere in the room.  For me it felt as if a conduit opened between the heavenly throne and the kneeling, pleading prophet of God who was joined by his Brethren.  The Spirit of God was there.  And by the power of the Holy Ghost there came to that prophet an assurance that the thing for which he prayed was right, that the time had come, and that now the wondrous blessings of the priesthood should be extended to worthy men everywhere regardless of lineage.  Every man in that circle, by the power of the Holy Ghost, knew the same thing.  It was a quiet and sublime occasion. . . . No voice audible to our physical ears was heard.  But the voice of the Spirit whispered with certainty into our minds and our very souls.  It was for us, at least for me personally, as I imagine it was with Enos, who said concerning his remarkable experience, 'And while I was thus struggling in the spirit, behold the voice of the Lord came into my mind' (Enos 1:10).  So it was on that memorable June 1, 1978.  We left that meeting subdued and reverent and joyful.  Not one of us who was present on that occasion was ever quite the same after that."

Certainly this is the most remarkable and dramatic revelation of our generation.  In addition to--and perhaps more important than--providing the priesthood to worthy males of all races and nationalities, this revelation opened up the doors and saving ordinances of the temple to men and women from every nation, kindred, tongue, and people.  We cannot overstate the importance of that June day in 1978.  But beyond the deep and eternal significance of the message, there is an important example of the revelatory process.

President Kimball, and the other Prophets before him, had been pondering and praying about this matter for years--an important, if perhaps somewhat unnerving reminder about the danger of always expecting immediate answers to our prayers.  Further, President Kimball had counseled with his Brethren of the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve, doing as much work as he could possibly do to prepare their minds and hearts to be open to the will of the Lord.  President Kimball stated that he "knew that we could receive the revelations of the Lord only by being worthy and ready for them and ready to accept them and put them into place."  Having done as much as he could do, President Kimball pled with the Lord, expressing that he "'want[ed] only what is right,'" and "'want[ed] it when [He] want[ed] it and not until'" (Teachings of Spencer W. Kimball, 450-51).  And the revelation came.  It was dramatic, moving, memorable, and life-altering.  But as much as it was all these, it was also quiet, reverent, and solemn.  All thirteen men in attendance (two members of the Twelve were unable to attend that day) felt the quiet whisper of the Holy Ghost and recognized it for what it was and Who it was that spoke to them.  And they walked away changed men because of that experience.

As I read this account, I was moved by the way in which all those present were able to recognize and accept the promptings and confirmations that came to them.  Perhaps it is just me, but I find it so easy to miss those promptings, to rationalize them away, and thus fail to act upon them.  But at the same time, I took courage in reading President Hinckley's account, because I saw that the promptings were of the same kind and variety that I have experienced before.  As President Hinckley describes it, there were no angelic visitors, no miraculous displays of power, just the moving and transformative presence of the Holy Ghost (which is more powerful than both angels and miraculous displays of power).  Somehow I felt more confident in realizing that the Lord gave such an eternally important revelation to His Prophets, Seers, and Revelators in the same way that He speaks to me.  True, I have ignored and missed such moments of inspiration from time to time, but I have had them and the opportunities to recognize the voice of the Spirit were there.

As the Prophet Joseph advised Brigham Young in a dream on February 17, 1847, if we will be "humble and faithful and be sure to keep the Spirit of the Lord," revelations will come to us and will "lead [us] right."  Gratefully, we "can tell the Spirit of the Lord from all other Spirits" because "it will whisper peace and joy to [our] souls; it will take malice, hatred, strife, and all evil from [our] hearts and [our] whole desire will be to do good, bring forth righteousness and build up the Kingdom of God."  Following that Spirit, we "will go right" (Brigham Young, handwritten account of vision, 17 February 1847, Brigham Young Papers, LDS Church Archives).  What a privilege it is to think that we can qualify to hear and follow the Voice of the Lord the same way that Prophets do!

Brett