I was in Elder’s Quorum today. Okay, not a big deal. Only it is. But that isn’t the point of this post. I was there. We were learning about courage. I tend to listen for a bit and then grasp an idea and lose track of the lesson while I chase the idea only to get jolted back when we have some sort of discussion question (one of the results of having MTC teachers in the quorum).
So I was chasing down a scripture in Ester that the teacher had mentioned when some question was asked about what the reward or prize was when we were courageous in the gospel. There were three sections into which the class was divided and each was given a scripture to answer the question. I turned to the book of John to discover that in the house of our Father there are many mansions. It was pretty straight forward. We get a cool house. The other group mentioned the enormity of our inheritance and another the eternal companionship of a worthy woman.
It struck me, and a good portion of the class, that this seemed…overly simplistic. In the last week I spent some 40 hours in some kind of church service. I donated huge portions of my time organizing interviews and communicating with members of the church and participating in service activities and worshiping in the temple and fundraisers and fellowshiping and teaching and ministering. I regularly donate my wealth, my health, my strength, my zeal, my blood, my food, my energy, my dreams, my hopes, my tears, and my lifestyle. And many give more than I do. Why?
Do I live this way because of a promise for a cool mansion in heaven someday? At this moment I think I would be embarrassed to receive it even if I did earn such a thing. Do I do it because I expect God to clear the brambles from my path and make my life hunky dory? Okay, subconsciously sometimes, but not really. Do I do it because I fear the fires of some eternal punishment? That one has never really bothered me.
Then why? Why make my life harder? Why not slide into the loose morals and pleasure grounds that come from surrendering the high ground? Because I love God. Somehow in all those years of scripture reading and prayer and endless hours of preaching I learned to love that being that notes the sparrow’s fall but does not stop it.
Sure all the blessings and protection would be nice, I am grateful each time I receive them, but why do I actually serve God?
Have you ever seen a small child, 2 or 3 or 4 years old, run into open arms? Have you ever felt little arms wrap around your neck and trust you completely as you lift them into the air? Have you ever heard the squeal of laughter or recognition a child gives their parent after some leave of absence? Somewhere in that moment where the laughing mouth squeezes itself into your embrace is the love that a parent has for their children. Somewhere in there is a reflection of the love of that eternal being responsible for my existence. Somewhere in that embrace is a prelude to a homecoming where mine will be the little hands and he will wipe all the tears from my eyes.
If the only thing I get from losing my life is that moment, that small moment of homecoming, then I think it will be worth it. I’m not sure 100%, but I know I deeply miss something or someone and I do get tastes of what it is now and then. Its somewhere in that hug and the thousand other little moments that whisper love. That’s the prize.
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