Act Two has protagonists, antagonists, story line, plot, direction, sub-plots, side narratives, intrigue and tons of colorful characters. And it all leads to a climax that is both great and dreadful – the coming of the Lord to usher in the Millennium.

So the question: If you wrote a play that took 6000 years to present, on a stage as big as the earth, with a cast of billions, what would you do for a finale?

One glimpse into this end event may be found in the Lord’s promise:

“Behold, I will hasten my work in its time.”

“Same old, same old.”
“Yup, we’re in the last days.”
“Oh boy, the Lord is hastening His work.”

President Henry B. Eyring: “Change is also accelerating in the world around us. … [M]uch of [it] is in troubles long prophesied for the last days. Each time you watch the evening news, you see stark evidence of that.”

Elder Dallin H. Oaks: “These signs of the Second Coming are all around us and seem to be increasing in frequency and intensity. … Increases by comparison with 50 years ago can be dismissed as changes in reporting criteria, but the accelerating pattern of natural disasters in the last few decades is ominous.”

We can bounce back from one earthquake, one tsunami, one economic crisis as long as such events are more or less localized and come one at a time, with pauses in between.

The problem comes when the events are accelerated and come in multiples.

Yet, what do you expect for a finale?

Whether it be the end of an opera, a play, a book or a symphony, there is a palpable sense of urgency and speed. All themes, stories and elements touched on earlier in the presentation are brought together at the end, fittingly called the climax.

We can expect the Lord’s finale will be preceded by a feeling of acceleration. Although we cannot rule out new events (asteroids, mists of darkness) most of what we’ll experience has been prophesied – earthquakes, storms, tempests, heart failures, hail, plagues, sicknesses and so on – and will be events mankind has already experienced singly.

Consider a second scripture:

“Mine indignation is soon to be poured out without measure upon all nations; and this will I do when the cup of their iniquity is full.”

The common interpretation is that finale events will be so large as to defy measurement. That will be one characteristic. But I also wonder if the definition might accommodate the term measure in a musical sense – that notes are organized and played measure by sequential measure. Thus, if a symphony is played without measure, it means all the notes are allowed to happen at once – total sound without measure or distinction, which may well be how the finale will seem.

I submit the finale will not be characterized as much by unique events as by familiar events combined with four unique qualities:

Intensity
Multiplicity
Simultaneity
Rapidity

Multiple intense events will happen simultaneously and repeat with increasingly rapid frequency without let-up until the end. Wow.

The finale will be so powerful that the world will have difficulty catching its breath, so to speak. But as I wrote in a recent Meridian column, those who are spiritually as well as temporally prepared will abide the day.

All of which leads to the real important questions: What’s the purpose? Why not let Act Two dribble to a ho-hum end?

It has to do with our test and enduring to the end. It’s about keeping the commandments, controlling emotions, and simply hanging in there.

In an ingenious experiment designed by Stanford neuroscientists, and recalled in Jonah Lehrer’s book How We Decide, subjects were asked to memorize either a seven-digit number or a two-digit number as part of a supposed study of long-term memory. Then as they walked down a hall to the next “experiment” room, they were offered refreshments of either healthy fruit or decadent German chocolate cake. Of those trying to remember the seven-digit number, 59% chose the cake, whereas cake was chosen by only 37% of the two-digit subjects.

The researchers concluded that the more one is overwhelmed with tasks and pressures, the less control they have over their impulses. As Lehrer put it:

“…the effort required to memorize seven digits drew cognitive resources away from the part of the brain that normally controls emotional urges. Because working memory and rationality share a common cortical source – the prefrontal cortex – a mind trying to remember lots of information is less able to exert control over its impulses.”

And if you think a simple memorization task is pressure, the cognitive effort to cope with multiple prophesied crises will no doubt be stress several orders of magnitude higher.

Rationalization also plays a role: “I’m under pressure; I deserve gratification; I’m justified because of what I’m experiencing.” Those who seek an excuse to give in to impulses find it easier to justify the more pressures they feel.

Impulses being fertile ground for temptation, it follows that the more stimuli coming into our brains, the greater the test of our self-control.

As the finale accelerates, we will feel increasing pressure and temptations, and may rationalize acting in ways we would not under normal conditions. In such situations, the words endure and rod of iron take on additional meaning.

In short, the great finale will be a huge test of our self-control – our determination to serve the Lord at all costs.

If 59% of the population give in to a piece of German chocolate cake under the pressure of remembering seven digits, what are they going to do when real pressures pile up?

Where will you be, my good prefrontal cortex, when I need you?

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Gary Lawrence welcomes comments at gary@lawrenceresearch.com.