On ... the night of the greatest suffering the world has ever known or will ever know, he[the Savior] said, Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you ... Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid (John 14:27).
I submit to you that may be one of the Savior's commandments that is, even in the hearts of otherwise faithful Latter-day Saints, almost universally disobeyed; and yet I wonder whether our resistance to this invitation could be any more grievous to the Lord's merciful heart. I can tell you this as a parent. As concerned as I would be if somewhere in their lives one of my children were seriously troubled or unhappy or disobedient, nevertheless, I would be infinitely more devastated if I felt that at such a time that child could not trust me to help, or should feel his or her interest were unimportant to me or unsafe in my care.
In that same spirit, I am convinced that none of us can appreciate how deeply it wounds the loving heart of the Savior when he finds that his people do not feel confident in his care or secure in his hands or trust in his commandments.
Putting Ourselves on the Altar
There is a wonderful peace that comes from giving up our fear to Lord, completely and utterly, as we kneel before him. Let run through your mind every awful thing that you are worried about. Then remember the Savior's wounded hands and feet, his bowed body in Gethsemane and let yourself open up to reality that he understands . He has been there. And he unlike us, knows the end from the beginning.
I never in my life believed that I would be healed from the terrible affliction of clinical depression that held me bound for twenty-five years. I prayed many times, but I always held on to my fears. “No, Lord, I can't put that on the altar. I can't give up that fear.”
Finally when things were so bad, they could scarcely have gotten worse, I was completely humbled. At that point, in a lengthy prayer, I did put every fear on the altar. I said, “Do what you will with me, but please give me the strength to survive.” At that point, the medicine was given to me that healed me. After twenty-five years.
It's Not Over ‘Til It's Over
But that was not the end. Recently, I was reminded that that healing was a miracle straight from the Lord. My doctor, who is not a psychiatrist, looked at my meds and as I was feeling unusually fatigued, he said, “Let's take you off this medication. I have no idea why I put you on it in the first place.” It was one of the medications he had prescribed for my depression. Not the anti-depressant, but another, whose function apparently neither of us understood.
Within a week, I was in the pits again. I thought my healing had been taken from me. I thought I must have done something unforgivable, or not used my wellness the way the Lord might have wished.
Finally, sobbing, I went to him again, and placed myself on the altar once more. I told him I would do anything he required of me, if only I could get my mental health back. Into my head came the name of the medication the doctor had discontinued. I began taking it again, and my world righted at once. This was a powerful witness to me that the Lord had inspired the doctor to give me that medication for a reason he didn't even know. And that was the medication that made me well, in combination with the anti-depressant.
It also made me realize that putting ourselves on the altar is not a one-time thing. We must be willing to do it each day. We are safe in the Lord's care only as much as we are willing to place ourselves there. Wholly and without reservation.
If I Perish, I Perish
It is worth remembering the hostile times that Daniel and Esther of Old Testament times lived in. Both lived in environments that were deadly for Jews. And yet Esther was told “Thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this.” (Esther 4:14) She replied, “If I perish, I perish.” (Esther 4:15) She gave herself wholly into the hands of the Lord, knowing that if she should die in her duty, she would be exalted in the arms of the Savior.
Likewise, Daniel had the very same attitude when cast into the den of lions, for his adherence to his beliefs. He knew that no terrible fate awaited him were he to die, and so he went willingly.
Death is Not the Ultimate Tragedy
At one time in my life when I was overcome by the sorrows of the world — senseless dying in horrible circumstances — a clear voice came to me saying, “G.G. you must not take this suffering upon you. There is only one who ever could and he has already done it. Death is not the ultimate tragedy. The only tragedy is not living the life you were born to live.”
Have we sought what mission we are born to perform? What work were we born in this perilous time to do? Do we consult with the Lord as with a loving parent, divulging our fears, our weaknesses, our circumstances? He is there, as he was with Moses, ready to take us across our Red Sea on dry ground if our faith is sufficient.
Perhaps he will lead us in ways that make no apparent sense at the time. But we will arrive at the appointed place in the appointed time.
If we are faithful, our destination is sure. He will welcome us with an embrace, instantly healing our pain and affliction with the words, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” He is there. Satan's bounds are set. His puny arm cannot stop our progress, as long as we remember that Christ's strength is sufficient for us all.
