Christmas

Christmas

A red chair, a blue couch;

Watching Polar Express,

And I feel like a kid again.

An HDTV

With 3D capability

Glows with borrowed starlight.

All revolves around

This corner of the room:

A lighthouse casting its beam.

And a bell

Rings as pure as sound can be

Dispelling the dull din of disbelief.

I want to hear nothing

But silence

And that sweet silver sound –

The sound I used to hear

When all was magic

That is now memory.

All is magic.

The stars

Shine in the black

With a cold light:

Memory

Of what we cannot see,

Of that silver sound;

And I lie

On the blue couch,

Looking.

Aaron's Success

I came across a scripture this morning in the Book of Mormon that I had never really noticed before. We, in the Church, talk a lot about Ammon, Abinadi, and Alma as examples of missionary work in the Book of Mormon. Ammon is the example of a missionary who puts service and winning the hearts of the people first, and many thousands of people were converted through his instrumentality. Abinadi is the one who was faithful in his preaching in the most dangerous of circumstances, and even gave his life. Not only that, but he did so even when he saw absolutely no immediate success in the way of converts, but we know that Alma the Elder was converted by his preaching and went on to convert thousands and establish the Church of Christ among the Nephites. Alma the Younger served as High Priest of the Church and as Chief Judge over the Nephites, but he relinquished the judgment seat in order to go and preach to his people all throughout the land, much like Christ's original apostles who traveled all over to manage the affairs of the Church. He had his difficulties, like any other missionary, and even had to witness the murder of many of his converts, but, like Ammon, he was able to see much success.

When we talk about missionaries in the Book of Mormon, these three often come to mind first, but I think that we often forget about Ammon's brother, Aaron. I've recently reread Alma 17-24, and this morning I was reading in Alma 25. We don't get a whole lot about Aaron. We know that he went to a different part of the land than where Ammon went and had all of his success. Aaron didn't have as positive of an experience. We often attribute this -- I believe, erroneously -- to Aaron taking the wrong approach. We think he should have approached his preaching the way Ammon did, serving first. Aaron, however, had the Spirit and was faithful in serving the Lord. We should not overlook what it says in Alma 20:30: "And, as it happened, it was (Aaron's) lot to have fallen into the hands of a more hardened and a more stiff-necked people; therefore they would not hearken unto their words." Aaron had an experience more like Abinadi's; he and his brethren were beaten, cast out, and put in prison; "nevertheless they were patient in all their sufferings" (Alma 20:29), and the Lord eventually blessed them with success. Aaron had the opportunity to teach the highest Lamanite king, and he and all his household and many of his people were converted.

What I noticed this morning, however, was that there was concrete success that came from Aaron's seemingly failed preaching in his first area. Alma 25:6 tells us that many of those Lamanites who heard Aaron's words, at least months and maybe years later "began to be stirred up in remembrance of the words which Aaron and his brethren had preached to them in their land; therefore they began to disbelieve the traditions of their fathers, and to believe in the Lord...; and thus there were many of them converted...." This is yet another piece of encouragement for today's missionaries found in the most important book on the earth today. Lack of immediate success does not equate to failure. The Lord can use absolutely everything you do as a faithful missionary to further the work, even years after the fact. Aaron did his best and had (delayed) success among some of the most hard-hearted people on the earth. All we have to do is be faithful and patient, and in the Lord's time we will receive every blessing promised to us.

Lackadaisicality

I'm writing a poem,
thinking how fun
it will be to think later,

I wrote this poem
because I was bored
during my class about poetry.

Actually, I'm sitting in
my college hour on genetics.

Actually, Gregor Mendel
didn't even go to college.

Actually, I'm only sit-
ting here because of in-class work.

Actually, my new favorite
pastime in class, actually,

Is actually poetry.

Maybe I should become a monk
and spend my time with gardening.

Maybe I could grow garden peas --
or package custom popsicles!

Or maybe I should just pay a-
ttention.

That's actually the right an-
swer,

actually.

American Lit

Droning speech floats across
the table to the pane
and back again, swimming
past shelves and shelves of books
about reading.

Fingers peck letters -- up
and down and down and right,
left-up, and diagon-
al, filling emails and
essays and notes.

"We've got assonance," he
says. "Shape, shade, shirt," he ex-
plains why and how Pinsky
described his button-up
with Koreans.

He chuckles at cuteness
while I scribble about
learning about writing
on the back of my per-
fected poems quiz.

Because of Him

Bethsaida

Bethsaida

The House of Fishers,

but the Sea lies distant,

fleeing.

All around I see Life –

a place where things grow

and flutter.

I set my head in my hands

and close my eyes, and

the Wind keeps me awake

when a whisper wings in through

the open window of my

unanswered prayer.

God giveth liberally –

in good measure, pressed down, and

running over –

a feast of fat things, of

wine on the lees

well refined.

So my net lies dormant

still

bounded

in a peaceful minefield.

And I’m reminded – and

given hope – that

she’ll build us a temple;

soon everything will be clear.

Hometeaching

It's funny how a lot of the coolest experiences that I've had so far in Jerusalem don't necessarily have to do with being in this part of the world. I could experience similar things back home in Utah. This Jerusalem Center is what makes this program special. It's the closest thing to Zion that exists at present in the Holy Land. All of us here have come for various, but similar reasons, and this place is like an oasis in the midst of all of our vast, rich, but sometimes barren and often very difficult lives. We visit sites where miracles happened, where God interacted with man. We study the scriptures (mostly the Bible) in depth and tap into the well of meaning that is in them. We enjoy each other's company as we fellowship and each strive to live the gospel of Jesus Christ. In many ways the Jerusalem Center experience reminds me of my time as a missionary, and none more than my experience tonight.

My companion, Tanner Potter, and I hometeach the Belnap family. Brother Belnap is my Old Testament teacher and field trip leader. I really like him as a teacher and look up to him, which probably has something to do with the fact that he reminds me of myself in many ways. For various reasons I see him as a great example of the kind of person that I would like to be in 10-15 years, especially as a husband and father. Add him to the list of awesome examples for such things in my life. I got a great look at what a father should be like tonight as we visited them in their home (also in the Jerusalem Center). We arrived and were greeted by Sister Belnap. She invited us in and served us homemade bread with butter and honey (so good). We had a few minutes to wait for Brother Belnap and their 3 year-old daughter, Tabitha, because, as Sister Belnap explained, he had promised Tabby earlier today that he would take a bath with her. We had a few minutes to talk to Sister Belnap and the other kids while they changed out of their swimsuits. When we walked in, 9 year-old Jack was doing a coloring app on an Ipad. 13 year-old Emma came into the kitchen and talked with us and her mom, and 6 year-old Sam walked in a few minutes later sporting an alligator robe complete with white, pointed teeth. We had a great time with them. Sure, they were probably on their best behavior, trying to make a good first impression, as we were, but it was evident that they are a special family (and they were successful in making a great first impression). Tabitha climbed all over her dad while we visited, and his love for her couldn't be shown in any better way than in his patience and willingness to accommodate her every wish and whim. I fell in love with their family. It's a familiar feeling, one that I had often as a missionary in Romania and as a hometeacher with my dad during my teenage years. It's a special spirit that accompanies such experiences, and I have felt so good ever since leaving their home tonight.

Since then I've been left wondering, How can I have that spirit with me always? I'm not sure there are other things to do besides those types of visits that bring the same spirit in such a powerful way. But I suppose there are different versions of such experiences that have some of the same elements. What is it about a hometeaching or missionary visit that brings the Spirit so strongly? We start and end with prayer. We teach and testify of gospel principles, especially of Jesus Christ. We focus on others and others focus on us, which is, in and of itself, the spirit of Christ, the essence of the gospel. I can do the same things in my personal scripture study every day. I can pray more often. I can focus on others more and seek their happiness.

A major theme of my Shakespeare class last semester, and probably the most valuable lesson I learned in that course, was to see and appreciate the beauty around me. It's something I've focused on for the past few months, and it's amazing how much richness it adds to my life. It doesn't happen every day or even every week, but when I do see something that is truly beautiful, I try to appreciate it for what it is and learn from it. They are usually the things that inspire my writing. The challenge is to preserve their dignity when I write. I can hardly do justice to such beauty, and if I try, then I usually end up romanticizing it too much instead of simply showing you what it was. So I try to just tell you what I saw. I hope, then, that you will see the beauty from your own unique viewpoint and let it add richness to your life.

Jericho

We went to Jericho today and visited the small area where the ancient city stood. It's apparent that Joshua and his Israelite army didn't really have to walk all that much when they circumnavigated the city multiple times. We're split into two groups for field trips according to which professor we have for our Old Testament class. As our group sat atop the ruins, Dr. Belnap sent us on our usual scripture chase as he teaches a gospel concept relevant to our surroundings. John the Baptist's testimony of Christ in John chapter 3 slowed the chase.

Jericho

I sit atop an ancient city

Now in ruins;

Melted mud brick slid

Down the crumbled walls.

Life chased it down the slope.

“See life”

Where God said, “Take it.”

“See life”

Where the walls came

Crumbling down.

Scattered stones crunch underfoot

As the soft wind

Makes this cloudy day -

A January day -

Perfect.

Dr. Belnap’s nasally voice

Softly whispers witness

In each ear:

“Believe Him and

See life.”

I look up.

A tiny, white butterfly

Dances on the wind,

Back and forth before

My eyes.

Jerusalem itself is amazing, but I find that I've had more significant experiences when I'm in our building or out in a more remote area. It's more peaceful; less commercial. The heart of the Holy Land is buried under thousands of years of "man" -- concrete and footprints and cheap jewelry. It still beats as strong as ever. My most valuable moments during my time here have been, are, and will be those in which I find the pulse. 

Away on Pilgrimage

After about 17 hours of traveling by car, plane, and bus, I'm here at the crossroads of world history. We arrived in Jerusalem in the early evening on Wednesday (I think we're 9 hours ahead of Utah). It was dark already, so I couldn't see much of what will be my home for the next few months, but the next morning brought with it a panoramic view of the city from the balcony outside of our room. Jerusalem spreads out across the hills like a white blanket, and the Old City is front and center, the "Dome of the Rock" standing magnificently on the temple mount.

Since arriving, most of my time has been spent sleeping, eating, and orientating. The biggest struggle has been overcoming the jet lag, and that fight still isn't over. It's especially difficult when we're trying to stay awake listening to boring orientation speeches about linen exchange and library policies. The good news, though, is that I can see the light at the end of the nodding-off, droopy-eyed tunnel. Tomorrow after church we'll go visit what is considered the sight of the garden tomb, Sunday is a free day where we'll be able to go explore the city, and Monday brings our first field trip.

Midst the blur of the first couple of days, however, there is a very bright spot. Thursday morning we split into groups of about 10 and took a tour of the Old City. We trekked down from our beautiful building on Mt. Scopus (the Mount of Olives) to the narrow, vender-lined lanes of Old Jerusalem. We saw quite a few things, mostly landmarks to help us know our way around the city, but what stands out in my mind is the visit we made to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. It contains what is traditionally considered the spot where Jesus was crucified as well as the stone slab upon which he was laid after they retrieved him, lifeless, from the cross. It was filled with pilgrims kneeling, hands placed reverently on that stone rest that held the Savior of the world. Others, like us, walked around, taking in the beauty and contemplating what it all means, what this man who died 2000 years ago has to do with us. It's the question that came to my mind as I walked through the "Sacred Gifts" exhibit at the BYU Museum of Art last week, admiring the giant murals of Christ painted by Bloch, Hofmann, and Schwartz.

What does He have to do with me? I'm in no better place to find out, to have that question answered for me again and again. That being said, I don't need to be here to answer such questions. It's not where I am, but who I am and what I do that brings divine knowledge of the man known as Jesus of Nazareth. I came to understand more about Him in small, insignificant little cities like Bowling Green, Ohio and Cedar City, Utah. I came to know him better in dingy, gray Galati, Romania and tiny Orhei, Moldova. Now, I'm in this white city; perhaps the most significant city in world history. It's the city where He walked, taught, and died. I am so lucky to be here, and I'm going to try and make the most of this unbelievable opportunity.