eeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEeeeeee
And I end up flailing out of bed desperately trying to catch the fly in the dark. Eventually I decide it's just not going to work and I might as well deal with the problem. The lights come on, the towel whip is equipped, and a full on battle ensues.
The spirit sometimes works like that for me. I am ashamed to say it, but often I learn what the spirit is from the times it has left me. I usually don't notice it so much while I am busy with the day and working, but at night when I go to bed it will hit me. I think it's because that's the time when I finally calm down and allow myself to think and feel.
reeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEeeeepent
Oh yeah, turns out there was something today that I need to repent of, but it's such a small thing. I'll just go to sleep and think about it tomorrow. And the spirit quietly reminds me until I feel like I must do something. Let me give an example from when I was 14.
I used to deliver an afternoon newspaper. I prided myself on getting the paper right up to the door, which sometimes required me to ride my bike right up to the front porch. My old bike used to have beautiful handlebars, but age and use had worn away the rubber grips, which exposed the metal handlebars. One day while half day dreaming I rode past a customers truck and leaned too far.
screeeeEEEEEEeeeech!
My metal handlebar put nice scratch along the side of the truck. I was horrified. My dad sells cars, so I know how much a scratch devalues a vehicle. Remember that I was raised in the church, and I listened to all my primary lessons, read scriptures and prayed, so you can probably guess what I did.
I looked around, and when no one seemed to have seen me I took off. For the next three blocks I was looking over my shoulder, and I wandered past that street twice just to make sure no one was out looking at the truck. By the time I got home I figured I must have gotten away with it.
My mother greeted me home, and soon dinner was set. Not much was said while we waited for dinner, but when my mom and dad sat down they began to have a discussion,
"How was your day, anything interesting happen?"
"Not really."
"Oh, well why don't you tell us something you learned at school?"
I couldn't believe my luck. I actually got away with it. No one called my parents, and if they knew I scratched it they would have said something. I was home free, and as I snuggled into bed I counted myself lucky for having dodged that bullet.
reeeeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeepent
You know, the right thing would have been to tell someone. Since I didn't if I had gotten caught it would have been a lot worse. Of course I didn't get caught, so now I'm really glad I didn't say anything.
beeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeelieve?
Of course I believe in the teachings of the church, and yes I believe all my primary teachers when they tell me I'm supposed to confess. I believe I will be blessed for choosing the right thing, but darn it! Can't I sometimes pick to miss out on the blessing of confession when I know I would get in big trouble? Give me one good reason I should go through that pain.
jeeeeeeEEEEEEEEeeeeesus
I guess the savior didn't refuse the right thing when he knew it would be painful. Unlike me, however, he didn't deserve the pain he endured. "For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps: Who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth:" (1 Peter 2:21-22). I knew I would get no peace until I had repented. "By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sins—behold, he will confess them and forsake them." (D&C 58:43). I needed to tell my parents.
I got out of bed, told my parents, and they explained what might happen. It didn't matter how bad things got anymore, I had felt what it was like to be missing the spirit, and I was committed to seeing it through. My dad talked to the owner of the truck. He said that truck already had scratches on it, and it would have more, so don't worry about it. I was sent back to bed.
As I laid there I was again thinking how lucky I was, but this time it was different. I hadn't ignored the spirit, I had done what I knew was right, and whether it was a big problem or not I was willing to fix it. As I curled into the blankets I found a good word for what it's like to have a clean conscience: peace.
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