Some of you have asked for my talk I gave in church last week. I have included it below for those who wish to understand the most powerful lesson I have learned last year -and quite possibly ever. Thank you Elder Bednar, for changing my life.
I’d like to start my talk today by sharing a story of Elder Neal
A. Maxwell, a beloved apostle of our church (The Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints). In 1997 Elder Maxwell was diagnosed with debilitating
leukemia and underwent 46 days of chemotherapy. Those who have gone through
such a trial only can imagine the weakening and incapacitating experience this
must have been. Later that same year, he was assigned to speak at BYU-Idaho
in Rexburg. As you can imagine, his physical strength and stamina were limited
upon traveling up there, and Elder David A. Bednar who was the president of
BYU-Idaho at the time had the opportunity to drive him around, and bring him to
his house for a light lunch before he was to address the students before his
devotional. In the course of their conversations, Elder Bednar asked Elder
Maxwell what lessons he had learned through his illness. Elder Bednar says, “I
will remember always the precise and penetrating answer he gave. “Dave,” he
said, “I have learned that not shrinking is more important than surviving.”
D&C 19: 18 states, “Which suffering caused myself, even
God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every
pore, and to suffer both body and spirit –and would that I might not drink the
bitter cup, and shrink. Nevertheless, glory be to the Father, and I partook and
finished my preparations unto the children of men.”
Elder Maxwell did not shrink either. He allowed his will to
be swallowed up in the will of the Father.
What does it mean to shrink? I have thought a lot about that
story and wondered what is means. Why is not shrinking more important than
surviving.” And how does this relate to personal testimony?
Let me share with you a personal experience. Many of you
know our sweet William. But those of you who do not, let me briefly tell you
his story. When I was 20 weeks pregnant with this sweet boy, I went into my
level 2 ultra-sound with my husband, eagerly waiting as we discovered the
gender of our baby. Our hopes for his future were bright, and we were anxious
to get a glimpse at his tiny body on the overhead screen. The nurse quickly
told us we were to be expecting another little boy and tears welled up in our
eyes as we thought about him and our older son Cooper and the relationship they
would share. After a while of trying to get a good look at our baby’s heart,
the technician left and said she needed a doctor to get a better look. My
husband and I tried to stay calm as the new doctor came in to take another
look, and after a few minutes, he looked at us both and calmly said that our
baby had a rather large sized hole in his heart, that he would need open-heart
surgery after birth, and that this type of heart defect was common in babies
with Down Syndrome. He asked if we had done any screenings or tests, and when
we answered no, he suggested we do an amniocentesis to determine whether he had
this genetic disorder. We agreed,
and one week later we went into the hospital for the amnio and got the results
days later which confirmed the Down Syndrome.
This was the scariest day of my life. Not only because my
son had Down Syndrome, something that I knew nothing about, but also because of
his heart defect, and the surgery and complications that would ensue. We had
just under 20 weeks to prepare for his arrival. We met with doctors,
specialists, genetic advisors and physicians. I had numerous ultra-sounds, echos, and blood work done. We
spoke with families that had children with Down Syndrome. I researched the
schools, Medicaid, we did Buddy Walks and I read countless books. My husband
and I went to the temple, we prayed together, we had family fasts, we read our
scriptures and paid our tithing. We did absolutely everything in our power to
prepare ourselves for the arrival of this sweet boy. In my mind, and from
talking with doctors and those who had similar experiences, we had anticipated
that William would be in the hospital for about 7 days after his birth, and
then would come home for 6-9 months before he went back in for surgery. And
then at 39 weeks and on January 14th 2013, our little William was
born. I had a chance to hold him briefly before they swept him away to the
NICU. The list of problems started immediately. He was incubated because of his
inability to hold his temperature. He wasn’t eating and so they put a feeding
tube up his nose. He was put on oxygen because he wasn’t breathing well. He
started losing weight. And a host of other things happened as well. I asked
myself, “Why is this happening? I have done everything I am supposed to do. I
believe in miracles. I believe in the Priesthood and the healing power of it.
Why is he not coming home?” Week after week these questions buried me, and I
had a difficult time understanding the will of the Lord. “Doesn’t he want to
heal William? Isn’t this a worthy desire?” My prayers “seemed” to be answered
when the nurses finally told us after 5 weeks that William could go home. Dan
and I could hardly sleep the night before, eagerly awaiting his arrival home.
As we were about to leave our house to go pick him up, I heard my phone ring
and answered it. It was the nurse saying that William had spiked a fever of 105
and that he was not coming home after all. Later that day and night his fever
spiked to nearly 108 and it landed him in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. At
the time we did not know what was happening, but a few weeks later tests
revealed that he had come down with RSV and his little heart was taking a toll
as his body was trying to fight the virus.
While going through this I thought, “Why didn’t the Lord
prevent this? Again, I believe in miracles, I have prayed so hard for him to
come home and this is something the Lord could have prevented.” Questions like
these bothered me because I felt like I had been forgotten. Maybe Elder Maxwell
would have said that I was beginning to shrink. William came home after nearly
8 weeks in the hospital, but the months that followed were anything but smooth.
Over the course of 9 months, we had 5 more hospital visits. His transition into
this world was very rough, and I almost daily asked myself what I was
doing wrong. My testimony and everything that I had learned up until that point
had been questioned. I had always heard stories about people losing their keys,
praying to find them, and then miraculously being led to find them under the
couch. I remembered my own experience
of being locked out of my house when I was little and the miracle of getting
back inside. I believed in angels and the First Vision. But I was struggling to
understand why that was not happening for me. I was doing everything. Isn’t it
“Ask and ye shall receive” “Knock and it shall be opened” I was asking and
knocking and asking and knocking some more, but these righteous desires were not
given. But why not? Maybe it was because I wasn’t Sheri Dew, or Elder Holland
or someone important. But I had always been taught that God is no respecter of
persons… and that he loves all men alike. That he does not favor one over the
other, and that he answers all prayers. But I felt my prayers had not been
answered. My best friend at that time was having a hard time with the same
thing. She felt inspired to buy a house in a certain neighborhood, and then was
unable to sell her other house. She was paying her tithing. She was reading her
scriptures. She was living a “righteous life.” Shouldn’t she be entitled to
those blessings? As a missionary, I would challenge investigators to read and
pray about the Book of Mormon to know for themselves whether the church was
true. It was a promise that the
Lord made… that “by the power of the Holy Ghost, ye may know the truth of all
things” (Moroni 10:5). And many times these investigators prayed and said they didn’t receive
answers. And another friend at the time was struggling with different points of
Mormon Doctrine. They were points that did not sit well with her and she was
praying for answers but she said none came. It seemed like during this period
in my life, I’d come to church and hear speakers or teachers tell stories when
they received the answer that they prayed for, and that miraculously they
received their answer. Yet I wondered what those speakers would say had they
not received the answer they prayed for. What then? Would they still
acknowledge their prayer was answered?
All these questions, and thoughts were nearly drowning my
spiritual progression when one day, William woke up and I could tell he was
having a difficulty breathing. I called the cardiologist and took him in for a
visit a few hours later. She took a look at his heart and realized he was
going into heart failure. She told me to get back in the car, and drive him to
the hospital. I asked if we should call an ambulance. She said I could get
there quicker if I just left now. And so I did. But I hit terrible traffic.
William was screaming in the back of my car, and I was trapped. I couldn’t
console him, I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t even get out of the car to hold
him because the traffic was so bad. I came to a fork in the road and I had to
choose which way to the hospital. As tears streamed down my face, I said a
prayer out loud, pleading for the Lord to tell me which way to go. There was no
prompting. I chose one way, and it turned out to be awful. I realized the other
way was better, and it then took me 10 minutes to just turn around, all while
little William was screaming in the back. I thought he was going to die. I
prayed for the Lord to turn my car into a hover craft… to fly me to the hospital.
That didn’t happen. I prayed for all the stoplights to turn green, but they all
turned red. I prayed for the crazy lady in front of me to hurry up and pay the
teller in the parking garage and get into the parking deck. But she had no
money. I prayed to find a parking spot close to the hospital, and there were
none. I was told not to go to the ER, but someone would be waiting for me on
the Pediatric Floor. And so finally once I parked the car, I ran and grabbed
William and raced into the hospital. My face as well as William’s wet with
tears, we ran inside and the doctors and nurses took over. It was then shortly
decided he would go in early for open-heart surgery. He was only 10 lbs, and
his heart was the size of a walnut. I was grateful that he made it to the
hospital, but I couldn’t understand why my prayers were not answered. William
went in for surgery, which went well, but had many subsequent problems
afterwards which I won’t go into. But it was this experience that tested my
testimony more than others. I needed help more than ever, and I felt like I had
not received it. What was I doing wrong? I was doing everything in my power. I
went through deep introspection during this time. What do I really believe? I
searched for answers. I didn’t like the answer that, “It was for me to learn a
lesson.” I didn’t believe that the Lord would inflict pain on a pure spirit to
teach me a lesson. And if he did, then I felt worse because of it. Maybe my
lack of faith and testimony is the reason for William’s suffering. What am I
doing wrong?
Have any of you felt like this before? I thought about
Joseph Smith in Liberty Jail, exasperated and desperate. The saints were being
persecuted and he was powerless and helpless. He was doing everything right…
like a good Mormon should do. He was trying his best, yet he asked, “Oh God,
where art Thou.” Even the Savior, in his time of ultimate pain and grief called
out to the Father saying “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me;”
According to modern revelation, we learn that at this point in time, Heavenly Father
had completely withdrawn himself from Jesus, and left him utterly alone. He
had always enjoyed a close companionship of this Father’s spirit, yet when he
most needed it, it was not there. (Brigham Young, Journal of Discourses
3:205-6)
Also during this time, I stumbled upon a talk by Elder
Bednar that has changed my life. He tells a story about a couple who were
recently married. The husband John, was diagnosed with bone cancer three weeks after his wedding, and given a 30% chance of survival. As they
asked Elder Bednar to come counsel with them and give a priesthood blessing,
Elder Bednar said that he felt impressed to ask them a few questions. He said
“John, do you have the faith not
to be healed? If it is the will of our Heavenly Father that you are transferred
by death in your youth to the spirit world to continue your ministry, do you
have the faith to submit to his will and not
be healed? After taking the necessary time to ponder my inquiries and to talk
with his wife, John said to me: “Elder Bednar, I do not want to die. I do not
want to leave Heather. But if the will of the Lord is to transfer me to the
spirit world, then I guess I am good with that.” My heart swelled with
appreciation and admiration as I witnessed this young couple confront the most
demanding of all spiritual struggles –the submissive surrender of their wills
to God’s will” (That We Might “Not Shrink” D&C 19:18).
While there are many things I do not know, there are some
things which I absolutely know. One of them is that God loves us. And because
of that, His Will is always the best. Let me repeat that. His Will is always
the best –it is intended to bring us the most happiness and joy. But the catch
and the trick of it all, is that often times it does not make sense to our
mortal minds. And that is exactly where faith and testimony come into play.
I had been praying for a certain outcome for William. My best
friend had been praying to sell her house, and my other girlfriend had been
praying to receive a sign about a point of doctrine. All good things. All
righteous things. And yet, none of them were God’s will. But why not? How could
that be? And therein lies, I believe, one of the most challenging trials of
life. I’m sure Abraham wondered why the Lord asked him to sacrifice his son,
Isaac. He had waited so long for him to be born. And I can’t imagine what his
wife Sarah must have been going through. Abraham’s story has a happy ending,
but what about Abinidi? He absolutely had the faith to not survive. And so I then asked myself, what would I have
done had William not survived? What if my best friend never sold her house? What
if my other girlfriend never got the peace she was looking for over this point
of doctrine? And Elder Maxwell asked himself the same question, “Can I not
“shrink” during this trial?” If William’s heart had failed and he died in the
car to the hospital that day, would I have still kept my covenants? Would I
still have read my scriptures? Would I still have kept my testimony and faith?
Saying it is one thing, but doing and believing it are completely different.
The following is an excerpt from the same talk by Elder
Bednar. He writes this in the words of John.
“Up until that point, I had a hard time reconciling the need
for faith in Christ with the inevitability of His will. I saw them as two
separate things, and sometimes felt that one contradicted the other. ‘Why should I have faith if His
will ultimately is what will prevail,’ I asked? After this experience, I knew
that having faith—at least in my circumstance—was not necessarily knowing that
He would heal me, but that He could heal me. I had to believe that He
could, and then whether it happened was up to Him.
“As I allowed those two ideas to
coexist in my life, focused faith in Jesus Christ and complete submission to
His will, I found greater comfort and peace. It has been so remarkable to see
the Lord’s hand in our lives. Things have fallen into place, miracles have
happened, and we continually are humbled to see God’s plan for us unfold.”
I repeat for emphasis John’s statement:
“As I allowed those two ideas to coexist in my life, focused faith in Jesus
Christ and complete submission to His will, I found greater comfort and peace.”
Righteousness and faith certainly are
instrumental in moving mountains—if moving mountains accomplishes God’s
purposes and is in accordance with His will. Righteousness and faith certainly
are instrumental in healing the sick, deaf, or lame—if such healing
accomplishes God’s purposes and is in accordance with His will. Thus, even with
strong faith, many mountains will not be moved. And not all of the sick and
infirm will be healed. If all opposition were curtailed, if all maladies were
removed, then the primary purposes of the Father’s plan would be frustrated.”
I do not know why God heals some by their faith and
others he does not. I do not profess to know the meaning of all things. But I
will not let the things that I do not know, affect the things that I do know.
One of them is that God loves us. That we are his children. And the Lord’s Will
is always the best. I am grateful that the Savior, in his most desperate moment
in the Garden of Gethsemane, when he asked that the cup be removed from him
said, “nevertheless not my will, but thine be done.” It wasn’t easy for the
Savior of the world. He had to drink from the bitter cup –and he absolutely did
not shrink. And if I am to be his disciple and follower, how dare I ask it to
be easy for me, when it was never easy for Him. In my experience and through it
all, I add my testimony to John’s that when I allow the two ideas of faith that
the Lord CAN help me, but also complete submission to his will, I have found
greater comfort and peace.
I hope one day to know the meaning of
all things, but until then, I will walk by faith.
