Starving in a Church Full of Food

As a teenager I would often come home and march straight into the kitchen.  I would rifle through the fridge (milk, brown sugar, eggs, butter, yeast, catchup, ranch, ground beef) and scour the cupboard (beans, tortillas, flour, sugar, oil, salt, canned fruit, noodles, sauce) and scan the counter tops (bananas, bread, pots, pans, honey, mixes, cookbook) and then yell at the top of my voice:

"MOOOOOOOOM!  THERE NOTHING TO EAT!!!!"

My mother would wear that patronizing look and say, "How can you be starving in a kitchen full of food?  There's plenty of stuff here, figure out what you want to eat and make it!"  I would grooooooan and roll my eyes and act as though she had just asked me to climb Mount Everest.

There are times when I find myself forced to don an apron.  Now I don't consider myself to be an expert chef, but the cooking skills I have acquired did not come easily.  I learned - mostly by mistakes - that there are some key ingredients to meal preparation.  These are the same skills you need to feed your spirit.

My teenager self also said, "Moooom!  Church is so boring!"  Her same patronizing tone would reply, "Well, Scott, you get what you seek out of church."  I was an expert eye-roller by the time I matured.  I have now learned she was actually right.  You can spiritually starve in a church full of the spirit.  The Savior said, "And some fell on stony ground, where it had not much earth; and immediately it sprang up, because it had no depth of earth: But when the sun was up, it was scorched; and because it had no root, it withered away." (Mark 4:5-6) Meaning that some people had the spiritual food, but they couldn't cook it and they found themselves starving.

If you want to eat it sometimes you have to make it yourself.  Reference the Little Red Hen here if you need.  It is liberating and wonderful to realize you're in the mood for chocolate cake, so you pull out the cookbook, and an hour later you have cake.  Whatever I'm hungry for I can have - as long as I'm willing to put in the work for it.  As for the spirit Nephi learned in a vision: "And blessed are they who shall seek to bring forth my Zion at that day, for they shall have the gift and the power of the Holy Ghost;" (1 Nephi 13:37).  So here are few things I have learned help make the chocolate cakes turn out better, and help bring the spirit stronger.

1) Check that you have the ingredients BEFORE you start

C'mon - you've done it too.  I get near the bottom of the Crispy Brownie recipe and it says, "Now mix the vegetable oil into the mix and after stirring combine with the other two pans."  So I go grab the... I grab... let's see, it's usually right here....

If you flip the cookbook page there's a similar Brownie that doesn't use vegetable oil, but it's too late now.  This leaves you with three choices, chuck the whole thing, run to the store, or beg from your neighbor.  I've had this happen on Sunday with a big recipe, and you know you're going to end up begging.  The only thing that eases the humiliation is that you know your neighbor will do the same thing next week.

My mother will look through the cupboards first and then find a recipe that matches what she has.  No so for the macho guy here.  I'll pick what I'm hungry to eat, and then plow ahead - begging from three different neighbors so that no one knows what an idiot I am.  Once I even made two separate trips to the store.  It would be so much easier to read the recipe first instead of just reading the next line.  It's because of guys like me that cookbooks have as their first line "Preheat the oven to 350 now because we all know you're too dumb to see that you'll need to use the oven at the end."

If I want to get the most out of church then my preparation starts long before I get there.  Having the scriptures and the lesson manual means I can follow along and if I've read the material and had a prayer in my heart I'll get much more out of it.  If I look ahead in my life and see what things are likely to be a trial that week then I can find things in the lesson that will help me.  I can get better spiritual food if I read the recipe and check my ingredients first.

2) Don't juggle eggs.

Now how could an incorrigible show off resist?  The problem with juggling eggs isn't just that it's dangerous, it's really a problem of losing focus on what's most important.  Whenever I have sacrificed the top priority for several things of lower priority I have always regretted it.  My memory of the home economics class in high school still stings.

Just to be clear my mom made me take the class.   Something about being "well-rounded", I dunno, I was busy rolling my eyes.  However Diane was in the class, and that almost made it worth my time.  Diane was an exchange student from Ireland and she had this same sultry voice like a GPS.  It became my mission in that class to impress this girl.  Fortunately I had incredibly hot skills like juggling.

One day we were making coffee cake (there's no real coffee in it in case someone gets distracted by the name).  The cake needed three eggs - exactly the number I can juggle.  Of course I did.  Now before you tell me it was stupid let me just say I am really good at juggling.  I can catch whatever I juggle 95% of the time and in statistics we call that pretty confident.  The unfortunate thing is that means if I juggle about 20 loops or so I'm bound to finally miss one, and one is all it takes.  The egg splatted, and wouldn't you know the teacher said we could not get another one.  Oh well, what's one little egg?   At least it made Diane smile.

This story is memorable because I made number of mistakes, so I'll tell you the horrid ending later.  For now let me just say my problem was that I was more concerned about impressing Diane than in completing the cooking assignment.  If you drop the most important priority it will not matter what you picked instead.  In church the priority is to be more like Christ.  If you learn incredible history, or catch up with old friends, or complete an assignment you still dropped the egg unless you drew closer to Christ.  The Lord himself said, "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me." (John 12:32)  The purpose of Christ's death and atonement was to help us be like him.

Have I learned my lesson?  Well... maybe.  I still juggle eggs when I'm trying to be cool.  I still clean it up afterwards.  And sometimes I go to church checking duties and responsibilities off like that was all that matters.  It's especially easy to do with little kids because it takes all my energy and thought to guide them.  I am grateful for the times when the spirit nudges me to pause for a moment and seek the spirit and set some goal to be more Christlike.  That sort of focus avoids the pitfall of being church active and spiritually starving.  Now if only the spirit would stop nudging me while juggling...

3) More of a good ingredient is not always better.

There were three of us in the home economics group.  I suspect all three of us wanted to impress someone in that class.  After dropping the egg my fellow group members were not happy towards me, but I informed them that all we needed to do was to substitute other good things for the egg.  Since we were no longer restricted by the recipe anymore we decided most of the measurements would benefit from a tweak.

First was sugar.  The recipe said 2 cups, but we like sugar.  We voted, and it turns out we all liked sugar a lot.  So an extra half cup went in.  The cinnamon was supposed to be only 2 teaspoons.  Teaspoon?  Have you seen that tiny guy?  Make it a tablespoon and now you're talking.  Then the vanilla!  Oh, how marvelous the smell.  We passed the bottle under everyone's nose, and that was enough to convince us.  We didn't try to find the teaspoon, we just sprinkled it on until our cake smelled wonderful.  After all - if a little vanilla is good, then a lot of vanilla would be GREAT!  Just wait 'till those girls tried a bite of this!

Right now half of you are thinking "Oh that's terrible, this will end disastrously!" but the other half are thinking, "Yeah man!  Right on, that totally makes sense."  We call that half the males.  The math is very simple, if x is good, then 2*x is twice a good!  Sometimes I try to apply that logic to life and it ends just as badly.  If going to work is good, then staying at work is better!  Or if buying my wife a gift makes her happy, then a big expensive gift will make her ecstatic!  If the lord wants me to serve in this calling then taking over other callings will bring massive blessings!  It was this kind of logic that caused my mission president to make a rule we could only fast once a month.  Some Elders had actually caused some serious health problems.

Helaman's warriors "did obey and observe to perform every word of command with exactness" (Alma 57:21).  They were blessed for doing what they were commanded and not trying to go beyond Helaman's instructions.  I'm not talking about going the extra mile (from Matthew 5:41), I'm talking about times when the Lord has given clear instructions and asked us to follow the recipe.  We are to be self-sufficient, to teach our children, to love our spouse, to serve in the church, and to do missionary work.  All of those are good things, and it is up to each of us to find the right balance.  If I find myself getting too far on any one ingredient my life will be out of balance and end up like my coffee cake.

The taste ended up not being the real issue.  You see what I didn't expect was that the combination of dry and wet ingredients was key to creating a moist crumb cake.  Our mushy concoction couldn't fluff and didn't rise.  It wasn't consistent and since the middle sunk in the topping hardened into a rock on the middle.  No one wants a cake that looks like Play-Doh, and the girls all declined a taste test.  That ended up being a good move since we messed up the next step

4) Baking Soda is not Baking Powder

Turns out the one a coffee cake needs is baking powder.  Now really both boxes were the same size and next to each other in the cupboard, so I feel like the teacher should share some blame.  She should have known there were three boys who would be staring at the next kitchen space over (and to be fair this one wasn't my mistake - I blame Doug).  Honestly none of us were even aware of the mix up until the very end.  I'm not sure what the difference is, but I know it tasted like sheetrock from a moss factory.  The teacher was the one that diagnosed the problem.  When we discovered the mistake we replied, "So?  They can't be THAT different."  The girls fell into a fit of giggles.

Sometimes it can be tempting to exchange one of the Lord's commandments for something similar.  Like swapping a good book for scripture study.  Or supporting a fund raiser instead of paying tithing.  Maybe an inappropriate movie will be balanced by a good one later.  Sunday church time spent in the beauty of God's nature.  "So?  They can't be THAT different".  But before I know it my spirituality starts to taste nauseous. Saul learned the hard way, "Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice." (1 Samuel 15:22).  If the recipe says baking powder you can't use baking soda, and if the Lord says "Go to Sunday School" you can't substitute with "Unless you really want to talk in the hallway".

5) You cannot double the oven temperature and bake it in half the time

Don't laugh - it's a very natural experiment to try.  It happens when you're running out of time, especially when juggling eggs and showing off for the girls in the next cubicle.  We knew we had 10 minutes before the end of class, and the recipe said 20 minutes.  We cranked up the temperature and threw it in.  There's no way we were going to be late for our next class over a coffee cake.  When it came out of the oven we were expected to each take a piece and leave a piece for the teacher.   It is worth noting that the girls in the next cubicle were enjoying a delicious slice of cake.  When the teacher saw us pulling our concoction out of the oven she rushed over, eager for us to finish on time.

It took one look to know something was wrong.  The cake had sunk in the middle, and the topping had slid into the center and become a solid rock of sugar.  The outer edge was burnt while the middle was still soggy.  It was technically after this that the teacher diagnosed the baking soda/baking powder problem.  She spit out the one bite and I spit out my own taste, and Doug decided not to try it.

It may seem obvious why doubling the oven temperature doesn't work, but the spiritual implication is harder to catch.  You cannot study the scriptures for three hours at church and then skip a week.  You can't be super nice to your kids during sacrament meeting and then yell at them at home.  You cannot pray intensely during the sacrament forget the Lord the other six days.  Your church worship will end up burnt on the outside and soggy in the middle.  Psalms 55:17 says, "Evening, and morning, and at noon, will I pray, and cry aloud: and he shall hear my voice"  It takes consistency.  3 Nephi 18:18 says, "ye must watch and pray always lest ye enter into temptation".   That doesn't say "only on Sunday." Many scriptures emphasize the need to set your spiritual oven to a constant warm temperature all week and let your soul soak in the heat.  In the Old Testament the Lord commanded Israel, "And the fire upon the altar shall be burning in it; it shall not be put out: and the priest shall burn wood on it every morning... The fire shall ever be burning upon the altar; it shall never go out." (Leviticus 6:12-13).  If our experience at church isn't uplifting, perhaps we should examine our behavior the other 6 days of the week.  

The sight of the coffee cake, the description of the taste, and the antics of my group put the girls into fits, and part of me was satisfied to see Diane laughing uncontrollably as she left the classroom.  Somehow that relationship never turned out, but fortunately my grade in home-economics survived this fiasco.

6) Each ingredient is not as good as the finished recipe

We all know cookie dough is sometimes better than the baked version.  But cookie dough is made from flour, sugar, eggs, butter, and salt.  If you tried to eat each of those in turn it would be nasty.  I would know, there are lots of times I have tried to snitch cookie dough before my mother turned on the mixer.  It's terrible.  Something magic happens when those ingredients mesh and combine.  A synergy that can't be duplicated by tasting each ingredient in turn.

Getting the most from church means changing your whole life.  When a talk inspires me I'll often focus on the topic of that talk without realizing the other aspects of my life that need improvement.  I'll say "I'm going to be more patient with the kids", but I still forget my morning prayer.  Jesus said, "It is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened." (Luke 13:21).  A desire to live more righteously should start to affect your whole life all mixed together.  Keeping the sabbath day better leads to a more meaningful fast, which changes the way I pray and improves my scripture study which helps me remember Christ when I am stressed which helps me be more forgiving and be a better missionary and write in my journal and keep other commandments.

I hope reading this makes us all think, "What areas could I improve in?"  When I truly desire to get the most out of church I follow Sunday service with a prayer that says, "Father, please show me other areas in my life that I can improve in".   That's means work, but it's as powerful as turning on a mixer, and the resulting cookie dough is magic.

7) Making the food is an important part of the recipe

To explain what this means just try making cookies with little kids in the room.  They watch each ingredient with wide eyes.  They smell the food in the air and try to sneak a pinch of each ingredient.  They watch the beaters with hope, and they dance around the table in excitement.  When you put a cookie sheet in the oven they will sit there and stare through the glass as if their eyes could bake the cookies alone.  When it comes out of the oven nostrils are flared and they are so hungry for the cookie they will burn their tongues just to taste them 10 seconds earlier.  At that magic moment a parent has amazing powers of manipulation over the child.  Things like "You need to make your bed." send children scattering to their rooms to do the chore as quickly as possible.  You could say, "only children who have done 10 pushups get a cookie" or "You only get a cookie after you've finished washing, sorting, and folding all the laundry" and I swear they will move heaven and earth to try to accomplish your wishes.

Contrast that with cookies you buy at the store.  You open the box, everyone grabs one, "thanks Dad" and they're gone.  Imagine telling the kids, "You can only get a cookie if your bed is made!"  You'll hear responses like "What?  That's not fair, I don't want a cookie then."   The difference is because the making part plays with their little heads.  The get more hungry, more intense, and their imaginations are focused on the food.  Even if the cookies somehow tasted exactly the same baked or store bought you would find kids would be more eager for the cookies they say being baked.

A good Sunday School teacher knows this tactic.  If you want your kids to devour the gospel then you want them to be hungry.  You'll use all the baking secrets you know to make a delicious treat and by the time you call them to repentance they'll be eager to take a bite.  I have tried to do that here - talking about food should have made you feel hungry.  That's the feeling you need to have when you go to church.  "Therefore, if ye have desires to serve God ye are called to the work" (D&C 4:3).   A desire is always the first step.  It is possible to make yourself hungry for church, and then you will find yourself doing what Thomas did at age two.

When Thomas was two he didn't understand how to sneak around without looking suspicious.  Teasha and I noticed his slinking motions and discreetly followed him to the fridge.  He looked around - didn't see us - and opened the fridge.   He grabbed something and scampered to the front room.  From behind the rocking chair we heard munching sounds.  As you can guess it is not allowed to eat anything anytime, so we pulled the chair away to expose....  Thomas was eating carrot sticks.  His guilty look was priceless, but we laughed and told him he could steal carrot sticks any time he wanted.

Thomas had a hunger and he sought out the good food that would strengthen him.  That hunger came from recognizing his need for more, and visualizing where he could get it.  I hope as he grows older he will keep his hunger for church, and find righteous ways to prepare himself for a Sunday feast.  He will learn to follow the Lord's recipes and create snacks that build spiritual strength for the whole week.  I hope he learns from his Dad's mistakes and cooks lessons that don't end in laughter.  I hope he stands before God and says, "Thy church was full of wonderful food - thanks for letting me cook."

Hell in a nutshell

The topic of "hell" is not commonly discussed at church, and for obvious reasons.  Why would you dwell on an uncomfortable topic if there are so many wonderful things to talk about?  I believe the Lord prefers to promise blessings first, and only threatens with hell when that isn't working.  Still hell is something real, and people who don't understand it will sometimes try to embellish it with their own ideas or traditions that are not based on scripture.

The term "hell" can refer to four different things (depending on how you categorize them).  Understanding how each use of the word is similar or different has helped me understand God's plan for me.  My own personal experiences are a tool to help me imagine what it means in each case.

1)  Life is hell when I know I am not right with God

Sometimes the scriptures use the word "hell" to talk about the miserable state of the wicked during this life.  When an angel told Alma of his wicked ways he said "Yea, I did remember all my sins and iniquities, for which I was tormented with the pains of hell;(Alma 36:13).  And Nephi said "I glory in my Jesus, for he hath redeemed my soul from hell." (2 Nephi 33:6) before he had died.  So hell can be a state of existence here and now.

As a deacon I faced the same awkwardness that every teenager goes through.  Trying to fit in and be "cool" is a moving target, and I'm afraid my social skills were sometimes lacking.  I tried to make up for it by being funny, or pulling pranks that would make people laugh and validate my worth.  I learned the hard way that "funny" should never trump over "kind".

We held the opening priesthood meeting in the gym, just off to the side of the stage.  It was common for the other deacons to sit on the stage and talk while they waited for the meeting to start.  With legs dangling four feet off the ground they would hop down when it was time.  One Sunday during the summer as I approached the group I saw my friend Jed sitting on the stage swinging his legs.  If I had stepped closer he might have kicked me, but instead I reached out and grabbed his ankles.

Jed's eyes went wide and with a look of fear he tried to scoot himself back.  It was a funny reaction, and the other boys commented to the effect of, "Whoa Scott!  Be careful!"  So I pretended to pull a little on his ankles - not enough to actually be dangerous, only enough to scare Jed.  With acrobatic finesse he reached back and grabbed the curtain.  That of course meant I could pull a little harder since he had something to hold on to.  I would never pull hard enough to actually hurt him.

In the middle of a laugh, with a clever taunt on my lips Jed lost his grip and popped forward.  I fell back, but Jed fell four feet laying down and barely caught himself with his hands.  Of course I apologized, but no one was eager to hear my excuses.  Jed went to his father and they left the church.  By the time Deacons quorum ended word had gotten back that Jed had gone to the hospital with a broken wrist.

If you can understand how I felt then you know something of the taste of hell.  I could not fix it, I could not take it back, and the only option my 12 year old brain could manage was to hide.  I slipped to the car as quickly as I could.  I figured I couldn't possibly feel worse - Jed was one of the nicest guys in the quorum.   Then at the dinner table my father and mother discussed how people at church had been talking about how one of the deacons broke his wrist.  They wondered how it could have happened, and commented on how boys are always being dangerous.  I just shrugged saying he hadn't gone to deacon's quorum but the meal made me feel sick.

That night I called Jed and found out it was true.  He would have a cast on his hand for 2 summer months.  I tried to apologize, but there was nothing to say.  When I hung up I decided there was nothing that could be done.  It was in the past, and I would learn my lesson and move on.  I would never mention it to anyone again.

At least that was the way I planned it.  The fact is that for the next three days it was on my mind at night, it was what I thought about when I woke up, and it made me want to hide all summer long.  Eventually I decided I had to either burn or face it.  I told my parents and they were devastated.  A meeting was arranged between both families and I had to face my actions with no defense.

I can understand why the scriptures would say hell burns.  I can see why it would be so terrible that people will wish they had repented and never sinned.  I can imagine how awful it would be to answer for a sinful life to God.  While my journey through hell was not enjoyable, I use the memory to help motivate me to be more careful and kind in all areas of my life.

2)  The wicked wait in hell between death and the resurrection

Sometimes the scriptures use the word "hell" for the state of those who have died, whether they are wicked or righteous, but that isn't how I use word.  This doesn't mean the righteous are miserable, since Alma says, " the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness... the spirits of the wicked...shall be cast out into outer darkness;" (Alma 40:12-13).   For the wicked, life after death is a place of waiting, and the wait is horrible.

If you don't think the anticipation can be horrible then let me tell you about my sister, Julie.  At the age of 19 she was getting ready to start college life and eager to go to the freshmen orientation with her friends.  Since my dad is a used car salesman she had a nice vehicle to take in the garage.  What she didn't realize was that my father's favorite car, a Lincoln Mark VII was sitting in the driveway.  Since my dad was at work and he always used this car she didn't expect it to be there.  She assumed she had the entire width of the two car driveway for backing her car out.

You can guess what happened.  She broadsided the Lincoln scratching it across the driver's door and the door behind, was well as bashing in her own car.  Now you must understand that a car salesman depends on his vehicles for employment.  A tiny scratch can mean a car won't be sold, and with inventory as expensive as a vehicle a tiny detail could mean the difference between fixing the dishwasher or not.  Naturally my father was very careful to keep his cars in perfect condition, and we all knew that to touch the car was to face dire consequences.

Julie got out and saw the damage to the vehicle she was trusted with, and the damage to my father's favorite and very expensive vehicle.  In terror she did exactly what any of us would have done.  She fled on foot and ran all the way to the University.  Both cars were left in a horrible testament to the undeniable.

At the orientation Julie found herself having a reunion with all her friends to celebrate the next step of their journey.  Except Julie huddled in the middle a sobbing terrified mess.  What could she do?  Could she make it over the border to Mexico on foot?  My father served a mission in Mexico, so escaping to Canada was the only realistic option.  Should she write up a will?  Were there any friends that she needed to say goodbye to?  Most of all she spent those two hours trying to imagine with dread horror what the scene would be like if she went home.

The orientation ended, but Julie stayed there, her most loyal friends with her.  After two more hours of doing nothing but fretting my mother located her and informed Julie she was there to bring her  home.  There was no more delaying the inevitable, Julie had to face her father.  No matter how it turned out she had to look him in the eye and explain how she had protected the stewardship entrusted to her.  And worst of all, she would need to examine the mess of cars on the driveway.

The time will come when " all men shall stand before [Christ], to be judged at the last and judgment day, according to their works." (Alma 33:22).  The Lord will ask us to answer for stewardship he has entrusted to us.  Before that time comes "there must needs be a space betwixt the time of death and the time of the resurrection." (Alma 40:6)  This is an important time for preparation for the righteous, but it is a time of dread for the wicked.  They will cry "hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb:" (Revelations 6:16).   They will dread facing their sins as the rich man in Jesus' parable who "in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments... And he cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on me.... for I am tormented in this flame." (Luke 16:23-24)

A feeling of burning is a good description for it.  My sister's story does not end there, however.  When she got home she found my father had already taken the cars away to places where they could be fixed.  He hugged my sister and told her that he loved her more than he loved cars, and that he was glad she was OK.  True - there is a price which must be exacted, and my sister would have an expensive price to pay, but my father would support and help her through the process.   I know that God will love me and help me matter what I do, but when I think of Julie's story I commit myself to making sure the judgements of God are something I will not dread.

3)  Not getting every blessing promised by God would be hell

The promises God has made to those who are righteous are unlimited. Revelation 21:7 says "He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son."  We not only have the potential to be like God, but the command, "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." (Matthew 5:48).  The glory promised to those who receive exaltation is wonderful enough that I could fill several paragraphs just trying to describe the work and knowledge available to those who get there.

But those who do not reach that level will not want to be there.  And if I were unworthy the idea of being among the exalted beings would be as loathsome as the knowledge that I was not good enough to be there.  That feeling of shame and guilt would drive me out of heaven myself.  It is an uncomfortable thing to imagine, but I have felt it before.

I have had several surgeries for my cleft palette, but one of the most extreme involved genuine Makita drills and jigsaws cutting out my upper jaw and screwing it into a better position, as well as cosmetic surgery on my lip to nose.  As a side note to any surgeons - please do not let your patient ogle your tools right before surgery.  It does not help.

The goal of the surgery was two fold - it keeps my teeth in better health to have the jaw in the right place, and it improves my aesthetics.  Keep in mind that I have never felt that I was attractive physically and as a 14 year old teenager (or just as a guy) that affects how I cope with the world.  It is also true that the way I look affects my job performance and is related to my ability to interact socially.  So while everyone agrees your personal beauty does not determine your worth, I think we can all agree that we wish we were more good looking.

So I hope you'll understand if I say that immediately after the surgery I looked worse than ever.  Breaking my nose left me with two black eyes.  Brightly colored stitches poked out from my upper lip like a horrid Hitler mustache.  I was swollen and my jaw could not move easily which left me unable to speak much or even use facial expressions.  I felt like Frankenstein on a bad day, and I spent most of my recovery time hidden in my room.

The day came when I needed to travel an hour away to St. George to get the stitches out and for a checkup.  As we pulled into town my parents expressed their hunger and asked if we could stop somewhere to eat.  My diet was already restricted, but I asked for a milkshake from a drive-thru.  My parents decided it would be more fun to visit Frontier Pies - a "sit down" restaurant they had been wanting to try.  I mumbled that I did not want to go anywhere with people, that I did not want to go inside, and that I did not want to become a public spectacle.  My parents said, "Oh, Scott, you worry too much. First off there won't be anyone you know there.  We'll find a quiet corner in the back and enjoy our meal without anyone knowing you're even there."   After several minutes I relented.

We entered a crowded waiting room and I jostled for a place to stand in the back.  Those who saw me gaped as if I were a circus creature.  My Dad went up the lady at the podium and told her it was a party of three.  She said that for a smaller party there should be a table soon when my dad said, "Oh, but we can't have just any table.  My son over there just had surgery, and he's feeling self conscious about the way he looks, so we'd like to get a table in the back if we could."  You can imagine the feeling of having about 30 pairs of eyes turn to stare me to see how bad I really looked.

My mother saw my expression and asked what was the matter.  I started to mumble that I felt like a spotlight had been shown on me when some ward members came through.  After exclamations of surprise to find each other my parents explained to the family, "We're here because Scott has an appointment with the surgeon to get the stitches out.  He had surgery on his face."  Of course they then spent the next two minutes telling me just how awful I looked.  I started edging towards the exit.

After about 20 minutes the waitress came and told my Dad that there was a table for three ready, but it was not really in the back which means the son who had surgery wouldn't really be able to hide in the corner.  That allowed anyone who had come in recently a chance to check me out.  My parents said, "Well, we can keep waiting here, or we can get our food now and be on our way.  There's no way to tell how long the wait will be if we don't take this.  Wouldn't you like to get out of the crowded waiting room?"  I had to admit I wanted out any way I could.

The table ended up being the absolute most public spot in the restaurant.  It was near the entrance AND the kitchen.  Everyone who came or left walked past, and all the waiters stared at least once.  I spent as much time as possible with my head in my arms.   My parents wondered why I felt so uncomfortable.  All I did was to recall what had happened since coming in, and they apologized profusely.  It didn't help.

The fact was that I did not feel socially acceptable.  I did not want to be seen or to have other people around me because I did not belong - I looked weird.  Those who do not live righteously will one day stand before their Heavenly Father.  Their sins and flaws will be as obvious as swollen eyes and neon stitches.  We may find ourselves wishing for a table in the back where we can enjoy God's presence without anyone else seeing us, but his eternal light means no one can hide in heaven's shadows.  If we are not like God we will find ourselves edging towards the exit rather than explain our poor choices.  We will prefer hell because it is the right place for us to be.  Remembering how I felt at the restaurant reminds me to live in such a way that I will be proud to be among the angels after this life.

4)  There is a special hell for those who will not accept God

The last story was an example of when I was uncomfortable, but it wasn't really my fault.  It's much worse when I'm uncomfortable because my nature is opposed to where I am.  Take for example baby showers.  When out second child - Allie - was due Teasha's friends threw her a baby shower and several women from the ward came to visit.  Teasha pleaded with me to go so that I could be there with her.  What's a man supposed to say to his pregnant wife?  I agreed.

OooooOOOOOOoooo!!  SooooOOoooo cute!

Repeat 50 times.

Per item.

Seriously.  And you need to say it in the most high pitched voice possible.  You know you've got it right if your voice momentarily jumps off the register for human hearing.  EVERY single piece of clothing was cooed over, even though I couldn't see much difference between the yellow dress with the tie sting and the blue dress with lace.  Apparently there was enough difference for each woman to shriek with renewed delight.  I tried to figure out what determines the cuteness of clothing, but all I could determine was that it's inversely proportional to its size.  Even if a new woman showed up at the baby shower it was obligatory for her to see each item of clothing and catch up on the squeals that she missed.  Each woman was expected to react, usually with a comment like "I know - SO cute, right?" or "Oh, that's the most darling thing I have ever seen!" as if she had never been through the children's section of the store.

And then the games began!  It was "Guess which candy bar was melted into this diaper" followed by baby food taste testing.  Afterwards the ladies began to talk, and can you guess what they choose to talk about to an expectant mother?

"I was in labor for 6 days, and I got no sleep and couldn't eat..." 

"I took four doctors seven hours to stitch...."
"The last five months I had to hang by my toes to get any sleep..."
"They couldn't put me under anesthesia, so I suffered all night long..."
"My baby was so big doctors were sure I wouldn't survive, and I didn't want to..."
"After I passed out I apparently died, but they had to bring me back so I could finish the labor..."

Really?  Is this how mothers comfort and encourage each other?  I don't get it.  The worst part of everything was that I needed to be "enjoying it" so that I didn't rain on Teasha's parade.  That means I said, "Oooh!" with a cheesy grin at the clothing, I said "mmmm!" to the games, and then while the women shared how miserable it was to be female I furrowed my brow in deepest sympathies.   My watch has never moved so slowly.

Five hours later the sun had gone down and there was still a gaggle of women discussting  potty training horror stories, and I told Teasha I really ought to head home.  She smiled sweetly and said, "Wasn't it great?  Aren't you glad you were here?  I so appreciate you being here, and if you'd like your welcome to stay longer!"  On my walk home I thought about how clearly this was not my kind of place to be.  If my after-life was one long baby shower I would understand "hell".

Now I'm being a little sardonic because it's funny, but the truth is those who do not want any of God's glory will find any level of heaven to be miserable.  They will look at their watch and find the door and want to slip out of the light.  There is a special hell reserved for those who do not want anything to do with God.  They will shun the idea of righteousness and seek the darkest corners.  They shall be "cast out into outer darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth." (Matthew 8:12).  Now keep in mind these terms can be used to refer to other things on occasion, but whatever wording you use there is a hell for Satan and those who are fully his.  

This is so awful that God said "they shall go away into everlasting punishment... to reign with the devil and his angels in eternity, —And the end thereof, neither the place thereof, nor their torment, no man knows; Neither was it revealed, neither is, neither will be revealed unto man ... I, the Lord, show it by vision unto many, but straightway shut it up again;  Wherefore, the end, the width, the height, the depth, and the misery thereof, they understand not, neither any man except those who are ordained unto this condemnation."  (D&C 76:44-48).   It is so awful that there is no point in trying to comprehend it, only choose to not despise the light.

So hell is a confusing term because it can refer to multiple things, but my experiences in life have helped me understand what it is like to feel guilt, to be uncomfortable, and the pain of loss.  I use these stories to commit to myself that I will yearn and earn the right to dwell in God's presence and join with him in bringing to pass the immortality and eternal life of others.

Judge Not

We've all heard the scripture "Judge not, that ye be not judged" (Matthew 7:1), but do we really understand what that means?  I have learned that I sometimes judge unrighteously and it's usually it's one of five reasons.

1) I'm just protecting myself

Let's start with the hardest excuse.  It is a commandment to protect ourselves, and even Joseph Smith clarified that "judge not" meant we should not just unrighteously.  Everyone needs to be careful of their surroundings, and if you have reason to suspect someone is dangerous you have a right to notice that.  However it's possible to go too far and use protection as an excuse.

Once when I was teaching my seminary students about King Benjamin's speech we discussed the scripture, "ye will not suffer that the beggar putteth up his petition to you in vain" (Mosiah 4:16).  I had asked my friend Jeff from the statistics department to come over and wear his big overcoat.  Jeff had a big beard, and when he slouched he looked like a homeless man.  At the agreed time he showed up wandering past the church door.  My students were instructed to follow a treasure hunt which would lead them past Jeff on their way outside, and past him again to reenter the building.

The students were focused on the treasure hunt and they rushed outside without even noticing the grubby man until they were already next to him.  In a scratchy voice he asked them if they would give him a little cash for breakfast.  Then panic ensued as he sauntered slowly away from the church.

Some students were only interested in winning so they muttered a half excuse about not having anything and rushed the long way around him to finish the hunt.  Three girls rushed back in the church, and then huddled in the foyer muttering about the crazy psycho outside.  Four guys in macho mode banded together to discuss the best way to "escort" this dangerous man off the premises (in such a way that the three girls would see it).  After only a few minutes I instructed everyone back into the classroom.

"I can see there's a lot of intensity going on... can you guys tell me what's up?"  The girls immediately spoke up about the scary man who was looking at them to decide who to kill first.  One girl said he had a hammer hidden in his coat (which we later determined was not true).  The guys said it wasn't ok for a beggar to be on church property, and they needed to protect the girls from the hammer.  Other students said they didn't offer any money because he would simply spend it on booze.  Everyone agreed he was dangerous and we should call the cops.

I said this excuse was the hardest because there is a measure of caution that was appropriate.  I do not think young women should entertain homeless men.  However, the imagined hammer and the aggressive reactions were based on fear and judgement.  As instructed Jeff had only walked through the parking lot which took him past the door.  While they were not expected to make friends with him, it was disappointing that they were not even kind.  How often does the Lord test us by putting people in our path just to see how we would react?  Can we balance wisdom with tolerance?  Can we show prudence and love?  The excuse of "I am protecting myself" has no bounds, and wars have killed countless innocent victims with that mantra.  I hope I learn to avoid this trap before I find myself saying "Lord, when saw we thee... a stranger, and took thee in?  And the King shall answer... Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." (Matthew 25:37-40)

2) I'm helping someone else improve

Now my least favorite excuse.  I have felt the pain of being judged by someone who was trying to help me be better.  This criticism leaves me feeling devastated and the person who was critical probably feels like an angel.  I have even done it myself - and most often to those I love the most.  Such a common way to tear a tender heart.  I do no know how the Lord will judge us for this evil, but I know when I see it in other people I cannot believe it was justified.

My mission served many small branches in the back hills of southern Brazil.  In Tijucas my companion and I found ourselves traveling a small dirt road in a poor corner of the city.  We knocked on the door of small house and found a family without a lot hope for the future.  Mom and Dad were both stuck in a dead end job at a shrimping
processing plant on the other side of town, and money didn't cover the family's needs.  They found little comfort in smoking, and they had given up on God.  The marriage was rocky, the children were unguided, and home was not a happy place.

We brought a message of hope and peace.  We sang hymns, we talked of Christ, and they felt something.  They came to church, and the children found friends.  One day as visited them I could tell the mother had changed.  She told us that a few days earlier she had gone back to her old church, and while she sat there she had an amazing spiritual experience that testified to her that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the church of God.  She never again smoked.  She was eager to be baptized and her children with her.

The bishop worked with the father, Desilu, to encourage him to quit smoking, and also to help cover some debts that seemed to keep the family from progressing.  Desilu did not commit to baptism, but he supported his wife and children as they were baptized.  He said he needed some time before he was ready to join the church, but he was fighting the addiction to smoking and he testified that his home had been a happier place.

Then someone decided to help him improve.  A member of the ward learned that Desilu was getting financial aid from the bishop.  The ward member pulled Desilu aside and told him it was evil to pretend to like a church just to get money from it.  He said if money was all he wanted then he had already gotten enough and should not expect any more.  He said a real man would work to earn his money, and if he truly wanted to follow Jesus then he should stop acting like a thief and support his own self.

The entire family never came to church again.  I hope at some point the spirit guides them back. What did this ward member have to say for himself when confronted?  "I was just trying to help him get things on the right track!"  When will we ever learn to keep our criticism to ourselves?  Justifying cruel judgment as being righteous does terrible damage.  I have already admitted I do it - and I believe it is a symptom of not having true love for others..

 3) Being judgmental won't have any cost to me

Lehi said "where there is no punishment there is no condemnation" (2 Nephi 9:25).  If I am convinced I won't be punished for being judgmental then I am more likely to judge someone else.  The problem with this excuse is I sometimes find out later what the price really was.

For a summer I did an internship at Towers Perrin in Houston.  The first little while that I was working there was tough on my family.  They stayed in College Station while I lived in Houston during the week and traveled home on the weekends.  To make matters worse my little baby girl at home had the chicken pox.  I called at night, but from an hour away there wasn't much I could do.

Fortunately after a few weeks things got easier.  Teasha found some good friends to help her along, and the baby's chicken pox cleared up.  Of course there were still little red spots that linger on for weeks after the child is no longer contagious.  I would call home and talk about how work was and describe the people I work with.  Then one Friday my family came to visit me at the end of the work day to see the place where I was working and to meet my coworkers.  Things went fine for all of two minutes when someone asked what those faint spots on the baby were.  My wife explained that three weeks ago she'd had the chicken pox, but for over a week she wasn't contagious, and she was feeling much better.

The reaction was immediate.  The lady who was reaching for Allie drew back, and made some excuse as she backed away.  The word spread, and some coworkers just left early.  It was as if we had announced we had the plague.  One person explained that since they were from a foreign country they were very worried about things like the Chicken Pox - apparently it's known as an American disease?  Very quickly most of my coworkers had disappeared, and since it was the end of the work day on a Friday I assume they just went home.  I still remember one coworker peering over the top of his cubicle hoping we didn't come down his aisle as we left.

I have since been told that people who don't have kids, and people who come from foreign countries have genuine fear about the Chicken Pox.  I'm sure in their minds there was no problem with staying away from us - it made sure they didn't catch it, and it didn't do anything bad to us.  However, my wife was eager to meet the people I worked with, and it hurt her feelings that everyone acted like we were something to avoid.  I bet they had no idea how hurtful their judgmental attitudes were because they figured it wasn't any of their problem.

Maybe the chicken pox isn't really a big deal, but I think I may have been the same way about people who are struggling with bigger problems.  I confess I have looked the other way when passing a homeless man, or avoided talking to someone who was mourning.  I have stayed away from rest homes and stayed silent when passing someone who had cancer.  My thought is to say, "There's no punishment to me for judging this person."  What I fail to see is the hurt other people are left with.  Lord, may I have more of Ruth's attitude: "thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God" (Ruth 1:16).  Then it is impossible to separate myself from the pain of others.

4) Someone else judged me

When I am attacked by other people I find myself being defensive... and the best defense is a good offense.  If someone has criticism for me I'll say, "Oh yeah?  Well what do they know?  I happen to know they have a problem...."  Yet on the cross Jesus didn't say, "Father get them - they are doing things they know are wrong"... instead he said "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34).

One quick reason why we ought to never justify being judgmental in this way is that from the Lord's perspective we have infinitely more to condemn us, and yet we ask the Lord to be merciful to us.  My father was a bishop in a college ward and he had a young man come in and confess some pretty serious sins.  Three years later my dad was no longer the bishop, but he ran into this young man in the store and recognized him from his ward.  They chatted for a minute, and then this young man became very serious and with intensity in his eyes he asked my dad, "Do you remember what I did when I was in your ward?"

My Dad studied his face.  He could remember sitting down with him in his office.  He could remember there was something serious.  He could remember that he had met with him.  But when he tried to remember the reasons that brought the man into his office it was blank.  After a minute of brain searching my father finally responded, "I am so sorry, I remember who you are, but I am trying to remember what it was we talked about and I just can't.  It's just not there."

The young man's face grinned.  "Good."  And an understanding passed between him and my father.  Apparently they haven't met since, but this man wanted to know whether it was possible for God to forget what he had done.  The Lord showed him through this chance meeting with the bishop that God does not carry grudges.  He forgets our sins and moves on.  That should be our attitude as well - instead of collecting mistakes that others make like building an arsenal of manipulation tools we should forget and move on.  It will help us be more like Christ.


5) I don't have all the pieces

Usually when I judge someone it's because I don't truly understand them.  Once while I was dating Teasha I snuck over to her house and hid in the back of her Volkswagon Bug.  Now you might be thinking there is no room in those tiny cars to hide, but with my legs under the seat and a blanket that was the same color as the seat I was innocuous enough.  This would be a great way to surprise my girlfriend by being with her on a drive that I knew was long and boring.  The only thing I didn't plan for was that the neighbor saw some strange guy crawling in the back of Teasha's vehicle.

I think the neighbor judged righteously in deciding to take action.  I am glad the neighbor did not decide to come attack me to defend Teasha.  Instead she called Teasha's mother, who then came out to verify that (sure enough) it was just me.  Everyone was willing to
laugh about it afterwards because a neighbor cared enough to say something, but did not judge what she did not understand.  If you're wondering - I waited until Teasha was driving down the highway to give her a happy surprise of a hug.  Afterwards both of us decided that was definitely not a safe thing to do.

Once going through WalMart I snuck a bag of donuts and put them in the cart.  My wife removed them.  I secretly put a box of Coco Roos in the cart.  My wife removed them. I tried a carton of cookie dough.  My wife removed them.  She's good!  I tried a can of coffee.  That one survived!  And right in the front of the cart no less!

We turned the corner and met the bishop.  Now you might be thinking "A good husband would have explained the joke to the bishop", but that just means you don't know me.  We chatted for five minutes and then he left.  We also ran into a member of the Relief Society.  When we reached the checkGo, and do... likewise" (Luke 10:37)
out stand Teasha put the coffee can on the conveyor belt.  Then her eyes bulged out... "SCOTT!  How long has this been in the cart?"  "Um... oh, you know.... since we started meeting everyone from the ward...."  Well the point of this story is not to explain how Teasha nearly died of embarrassment, it's the fact that both ward members MUST have seen that coffee can, but neither commented on it.  They knew there was likely an explanation they didn't know, and they chose not to judge.  Oh, if only I could be more like that!  So many people have demonstrated what it means to righteously "judge not".  And my goal is to "

How to get along with a Mormon

I think I'd like to take a break from writing my stories for one entry that I have always wished to write.  Here is a list of things I wish other people - coworkers, friends, and neighbors - understood about me as part of my Mormon culture.

I love talking to you about my church.
The LDS religion has a strong culture and so we often come off as overbearing when we talk about church, so sometimes I hesitate to bring up the topic.  I worry you'll roll your eyes when the topic turns to religion, but it feels so GOOD to share things that have meant so much to me.  I don't want to be offensive or rude, so I may not bring it up unless you give me an opening on the topic.  You might be impressed with how thoughtful and organized my explanations can be.  I don't even care if you bring up offensive rumors or uncomfortable topics.  You'll find I have good answers and can defend my church without anger, feeling insulted, or getting flummoxed.  If you want to get on my good side quickly ask me about my beliefs and give me a chance to bear testimony and explain what I believe to be true.

I do not believe your church is evil.
I believe my church has answers that you can't find anywhere else, but that only makes sense - I am a Mormon for a reason.  Everyone is trying to seek God in some way and we are all trying to be a good person.  I do not believe that if you die before becoming a Mormon you are going straight to hell.  Mormons are unique in our beliefs about the afterlife, and if you ask I can explain what happens to people who do or don't accept our beliefs when they die.  I think you'll find we have more common ground than you guessed.  I often feel like people are hesitant to bring up religion with me because they don't want me to insult their church.

I like hearing about your beliefs too.
We believe in all truth whether it is found in other Christian faiths, in non-christian faiths, or among academic non-religious beliefs.  We feel like we are the most open to other religions, Jewish, Muslim, Catholic, you name it.  That's why I get so mad at people who claim we believe only Mormons have value.  I like understanding your religious culture, what you think, and how you try to be the best you can.  If we put our heads together I bet we can come with ideas that would help us both live better.


I know other Mormons if they are in my ward.
When someone discovers I am Mormon they usually follow it up with, "Oh, do you know So-and-so who is Mormon?"  The answer depends a lot on whether they are within my ward.  A ward is a geographically defined area, and everyone in that area goes to church at the same time.  Usually there are about 200 members in a ward.  You quickly become close friends with everyone in your ward.  Five or six wards together make a "stake" and I meet people in my stake every few months.  So don't be afraid to ask if I know your LDS friend, and if they're in my ward I'll be excited to meet a friend of my fellow ward member.


I have a church calling that is important.
The daily operations of the church is managed by the members.  The church leaders (with inspiration) choose what calling I have, and I would not refuse the call to serve unless I felt God wanted me to.  I don't seek certain jobs, they are not paid, and I have some calling pretty much at all times.  They range from teaching classes to organizing activities.  I feel like it is a call from God, and I need to serve the Lord while balancing a real job, family, and friends.  Some callings take up time or make me rearrange my schedule, but I hope my friends and coworkers understand how important it is to me and are willing to work with me.

I need to go home teaching.
Besides my church calling I am also a home teacher.   As a home teacher I have three or so families that I visit every month with my companion.  The two of us will visit the family sharing a message and checking on how they are doing.  That means I'm trying to juggle four busy schedules to set up appointments.  On the rare occasion that I need to schedule home teaching during work hours or some other awkward time I would like my friends and coworkers to be supportive and understanding.  When my LDS friends say they have home teaching I always consider that a high priority.

Going to the temple is serious.
The temple is a place to covenant to be more like Christ and receive promises of blessings in return.  It is different from church the way a steak is different from a hamburger.  I believe it boosts my resolve and gives me spiritual power to fight temptations.  I also believe evil tries to work against anyone who plans a temple trip.  It seems like as soon as I say I'm going to the temple everything goes wrong.  The car breaks down, the kids get in a fight, a required meeting is scheduled, and a road trip to the nearest temple seems impossible.  It is my test to see if I truly want to get to God's temple.  I love it when friends hear that I am trying to go to the temple and they clear the path for me.  They offer to take kids, meet people, or turn in reports so that I can get on the road.  It shows they understand and support me like soldiers in the battle of life.

Remember my diet restrictions.
I cannot drink coffee, alcohol, or tea.  I have been to social functions where the only drink offered was iced tea, and I have to try to go out and find a drinking fountain.  When the dessert has alcohol dribbled on it I feel like I've been forgotten.  I'm not asking for special treatment, but a little water for those who don't drink coffee sure it nice.  And don't think that serving apple juice in wine glasses is going to count - I won't want to be seen with that in my hand.  When I see coffee and tea to one side with soda or water on the other I feel like someone remembered me.

I like it when you don't swear.
It is called "profanity" because it profanes something sacred.  I am expected to speak of God and sex in proper ways, so I try to not use swear words.  This doesn't mean sex or religion is taboo - I can talk about them without embarrassment, but profanity treats them as meaningless.  I don't feel offended when others swear, but I like when people watch their language around me.  Wh
en I hear lots of cussing it's easier for a swear word to come to mind, so I prefer to hear clean language.  Those who watch their mouth around me are showing respect for my beliefs.

Family is everything.
The work of our Heavenly Father is to help us - his children.  Being a good husband and father is the closest I can get to being like God.  There is no other success that can compensate for my failure in the home.  This does not mean work, friends, church, or hobbies are not important, but it means I always want to know my family is being taken care of.  I like it when a work social invites me to bring my children.  My friends understand that I might miss out on a fun activity to be with my kids.  I hang scribbled pictures on my office wall with pride.  When my boss helps me take of my family I take care of what my boss needs.  If you understand that my family matters most to me then you'll know what motivates me.

Forgive my mistakes.
Being Mormon doesn't mean I'm magic.  I feel temptations, I get angry, and I have unrighteous desires just like anyone.  Someone who really knows me might catch me doing something wrong.  I often worry  that my mistakes will change what you think of my church.  The truth is I'm not any better than any other person, even though I try to be like Jesus.  I don't mind if you call me on it - you can remind me that I want to live at a higher standard.  I ask that you forgive me for my faults and help me be better, and I'll try to support you in whatever ways you want support.

Questions to start a conversation that don't argue doctrine:


Where do your ancestors come from?
What is your church calling?
What church calling have you enjoyed the most?
If you chose a mission where did you go?
How many families do you home teach?
What made you fall in love with your wife?
How are your kids doing?
What do you like to do for Family Home Evening?
Where are you reading in the scriptures?
What is your favorite book of scripture?
What is your favorite hymn?
What made you decide to become a Mormon?

Prom help

I have a testimony of prayer.   It's a strong testimony that comes from many components.  I have felt the Holy Ghost testify that God hears my prayers, and I have seen how prayer helps me to be a better person.  And I have experienced answers to prayer.

Getting an answer to prayer is sometimes touchy.  The Lord doesn't always answer prayers the way we want.  Sometimes he does it in surprising ways.  Sometimes the answer the is no.  On occasion I have figured out later that what I was praying for wasn't appropriate.  Honestly sometimes I don't know why the answer was no, but even in those cases the spirit whispers that there is a reason.  Sometimes the prayer is answered - even when maybe the answer should have been no.  That's why I've learned to be careful what you pray for - God really does hear.  My senior year of high school the lesson was driven home.

This is a dating story, and you must realize my high school dating life is not exactly shocking.  As church leaders have suggested I did not date until I was 16, and even then it was a terrifying experience.  While it may be hard to believe now, I was somewhat dorky in high school, preferring math classes over PE and spending my spare time solving logic puzzles.  It's not a commandment to date in high school, but I knew I needed to develop my social skills, so every major dance I made an effort to go.  Unfortunately there was a general expectation that the guys ask the girls to each dance, which meant I had to go through the terrifying experience of asking the girls out.  The only thing to make it worse was the horrid tradition of asking a girl using some melodramatic method: like a singing quartet.  By the time my senior prom came I had asked a girl out a dozen times, and every time was a practice in anxiety.  Still it seemed proper that the senior prom should be something great.

Ever since middle school I had been in classes with Lindsey Fife.  She was intelligent, kept her standards, was kind, and beautiful.  That meant I would never ask her out.  Still.... senior prom.... Somehow I knew this might be my last chance if I ever wanted to date her.  It also meant graduation was near and if I made a fool of myself I would move away to college.  I decided I would casually investigate if she had been asked, and if not I would do it.  Two weeks before prom with a heart full of fears I went to school.

Usually before class I met with Jeff Holt.  He told me he was also planning on asking a girl who might be considered above his level.  That morning we asked each other the obvious: "So... did you ask her?"  Both of us stated that we were about to, and we weren't absolutely horrified sick about it.  We had different classes for first period, but ironically for both of us the girls we were considering happened to be in our first class.  Jeff said he would do it first period.  I said I would too.  I'm convinced neither of us actually wanted to but now there was macho male bravado spurring us on.

My anxiety led me to class ten minutes early, and behold!  No one else was there except Lindsey!  She was there alone - even the teacher was in her office.  I walked casually... well strolled, with a bit of coolness... no, no, too much swagger, keep it mature... dang, now I'm walking too stiffly I look like a stupid robot.... what if I sort of shimmy to show I have awesome dance moves?  Ok that did not look awesome, am I blushing?  GAH!

I hurried and sat down next to Lindsey... well not really next to her, you want to leave a chair between so it's not too creepy... actually it was more like three chairs between us, just to make sure it's not too forward..  still with an empty classroom I was practically sitting next to her.  Are my hands shaking?  She finally looked up for the first time.  I need to say something!  Make it cool, make it funny, make it intelligent......

"Uh, hey, what's up?"

She smiled and every emotion jumped.  Women never understand how they can yank a guy's feelings around.  "I'm excited!  Today the orchestra is going on a trip for a major competition and I think we're going to do well!"

"Oh, that sounds cool!  I know that's something you love.  When do you leave?"

"Right after the start of first period!  That's why I'm here early, I need to talk to the teacher about it and make sure I have everything I need.  I'll be gone a whole week."

My head spun - she was about to leave for a week long trip?  She would be back before prom, but only a few days before!  Surely if I waited it would be too late to ask her out - a girl needs time to get a dress.  Everyone knows you don't ask a few days before prom.  And now she would be gone!  This moment, right now is the only time I could have.  This was the chance to do something cool and ask her out.  If it wasn't in the next 60 seconds the teacher would come in and I would lose my only shot.  What could I do?  There wasn't time to bake a cake... don't have time to convince a police officer to pull her over... I don't think I'm going to be able to write a poem much less sing it..... GAH!

The only choice would be to straight up ask her to prom.  I would look at her and say 'before you go, would go to prom with me?'  But wait, had she already been asked?  I needed to find out whether she had been asked to the prom or not.  I needed to say something.. make it intelligent..... "Uh, well, a whole week huh?  That's really something!"

"Yeah!  It's a mark that we've been doing so well that we get to go to this.  I'm excited.  The best orchestra groups from all over will be there."

"Oh!  oh... well.... um.... that'll be... a whole week.   So ... I really hope you guys do well."

"Thanks!  That's sweet of you to say."

Dang it.  Double triple gosh darn stupid worthless.... if it weren't for this trip I could find some way to casually ask her what her schedule would be... find out if she'd been asked... then tomorrow I could do something cool to ask her.  Make a puzzle or something.   But not in 30 seconds.  It just wasn't possible.  As the teacher came in the classroom I decided it wasn't going to happen this morning, which means it wasn't going to happen at all.  Part of me relaxed and felt relieved.  Part of me died a horrible painful death.

A few minutes talking with the teacher, other students came in, the bell rang, and Lindsey left.

I lose.

Second period was Calculus with Mrs. Thomas.   Jeff had a seat next to mine, and I tried not to look at him as he sat down.  My only consolation was that he had the same social awkwardness I did, so at least we could share our failures.

"Pssst.... hey Scott... how did it go?"

I sighed.  I knew it was coming.  "Yeah, didn't work out.  How about you?"

"I asked her!  It was before class and nobody else was there, and I just did it!  I asked if anyone had asked her yet, she said no, and I asked if she wanted to go with me, and she yes!  I am so stoked!"

I groaned and put my head on my desk.  "She left to go to an orchestra thing, and I missed my chance.  I don't think I want to talk about it."  The only thing that could make my wounds hurt more was to know that Jeff had been in a similar circumstance and manned up to the challenge.  I officially win the ultimate loser contest.

With my head on my desk and my eyes shut tight I felt pain and shame and disappointment flood over me.  In my anguish I fell back to the one source of comfort I have always found. I said a prayer, "Oh Father.  I feel awful.  I don't usually ask for big things, but this was a big thing.  I don't see any way this could even be resolved, and I'm sure heaven doesn't really care about what happens to my prom, but I was wanting to ask Lindsey, and I tried but wussed out.  I would just ask, please let me be able to ask Lindsey.  It would take a miracle.  In the name of Jesus Christ amen."

I sat up, my face was probably a look a resigned failure.  Jeff asked, "Well... Scott... let's think of who else you could ask."

At that moment heaven intervened.  I was about to witness a miracle, although being filled with insecurity and pain meant my miracle would be terrifying.  What I would learn is "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you:" (Matthew 7:7)  I had asked, and heaven had heard.  It was too late to take it back, for God had heard me, and "your Father which is in heaven give[s] good things to them that ask him" (Matthew 7:11).  Turns out God did care who I asked to Prom, because it mattered to me.

What I didn't know what the Mrs. Thomas had been watching me put my head on the desk, and she saw that my normally jovial attitude was sad.  She heard Jeff's comment and exclaimed in her loud voice, "Ask?  Scott are you asking someone to Prom?"

Great!  What could make me feel any worse than to have a teacher know?  It would be better to explain to her quickly and quietly before more students came in.  I mumbled, "Yeah, well, I was going to ask a girl, but I can't, didn't work out."

"Why?  What happened?"  (doesn't that women have a quiet voice?)

"Well, turns out she left this morning.  She'll be gone for a whole week.  I lost my opportunity."

"Really?  Who was it?" (is nothing sacred?  Better to fess up and end this conversation fast)

"Oh, Lindsey Fife.  I'm going to find someone else.  She was probably a bit above my level anyway.  I'm sure someone else asked her."

If this were a movie now would be a good spot to throw in a picture of an explosion.  I had just lit a fuse that could not be extinguished.

"LINDSEY FIFE!  Why I know her!  Boys sometimes don't ask out the best girls because they're afraid to.  Lindsey is going on the orchestra trip, but you know they are always late getting going - CHRIS!  We need to stop the orchestra bus that Lindsey is on - GO NOW!  KARLY - go find out what class her brother Steve is in and ask him if his sister has been asked.  LIZ!  Find her friend Sarah - she isn't in orchestra - and see if she knows whether Lindsey has been asked, BRITTANY!  Get on that bus if Chris managed to stop it and see if Lindsey has been asked.  EVERYBODY MOVE!  SCOTT'S PROM IS ON THE LINE!"

Just the memory of that moment makes me want to crawl in a hole and die.  I sat there ramrod straight and shaking so overwhelmed I couldn't even say anything.  Jeff and Doug were the only friends who knew of my plight, and suddenly my whole Calculus class knew.  Brittany was a cheerleader that I hardly knew, but I still knew her better than Liz.  In ten seconds this had exploded far beyond my ability to try to shove under a rug.  I was headed for unstoppable humiliation.  Why couldn't the Lord have helped me?  Instead I was being gutted like a fish for the amusement of everyone else.

As class started I realized something else - I had no choice but to ask Lindsey now.  Even if someone else had beaten me to it I would have to ask her at some point or face endless teasing from the rest of the school.  I would face my fear.

Chris and Brittany arrived a minute after class had started out of breath.  Apparently the bus was already moving as they ran out.  Chris ran in front of the bus while Brittany pounded on the door.  Brittany ran into the bus, shouted, "IS LINDSEY FIFE HERE?!"  A hand from the back slowly rose.  "HAVE YOU BEEN ASKED TO PROM YET?"  The answer was a timid no.  Brittany and Chris ran off the bus, ran all the way back to class and with huge grins reported to the class a successful mission.

Kill me now.  If ever there was an answer to any prayer I pray that the Lord may stop my heart and kill me this instant.

Karly came less than 60 seconds later saying she had been directed to Steve's class by friends it the hallway and he reported she had not been asked, and ten seconds later Liz said that Lindsey's friend also said Lindsey had not been asked.  Everyone practically glowed the accomplishment of such a difficult mission in such short time.  They spoke to Mrs. Thomas, but then nodded to me as if humbly acknowledging they had just saved my life.

Can I kill myself by holding my breath?  My gasp for air only made everyone think I was finally relieved.  Mrs. Thomas taught something (I have no memory of what) with a huge smile all day.  I would die later - there was no question.

On the other hand....

Lindsey hadn't been asked, and now I had over 35 really good reasons to follow through and ask her to Prom.  There was no wussing out now.

To the dozen or so that asked me later whether I had a plan I told them I did but it was a secret.  Truth be told when I went home I ran to my sister Julie and told her my horrid predicament.  With her help we called Lindsey's mom and found out exactly when on Saturday she would come home.  Julie helped me plan a cute message written with suckers planted in Lindsey's lawn Saturday evening.  Since the mom was informed two weeks early the dress could be acquired without stress.

Looking back it is true that I would not have chosen that method to be the answer to my prayer, and yet it seems oddly appropriate.  With an extra 20 years of experience to look back on it, I find myself thinking God knew what he was doing.  Isaiah said, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts."  (Isaiah 55:8-9)  Perhaps the reason the Lord's ways are higher is that he has more experience.  The answers to prayers always come, but a greater level of experience means the Lord knows the best way to answer them.

Prom was great, partly because after Calculus class I wasn't as worried about humiliating myself.   We had fun with a murder mystery date with Jeff, John, and Doug.  Everyone had asked the person they most afraid to ask, and the dance went smoothly.  Incidentally I have another story of being proud of my date for wearing a modest dress, and this was the dress.  My prayers were answered with a blessing upon my head, and it was more than just that
night.  Later when I met a curly haired girl that would become my wife I may never have had the courage to ask her out without this experience.  I knew the Lord would help me, I knew he cared about me, and I knew he wanted me to grow socially and emotionally.  I know the Lord answers prayers.