The Parable of the Used Car Salesman

And behold it did come to pass that a used car salesman did have many cars to sell, some were of great price, and some were more affordable.  And a young man did come to buy a car.  He saw a beautiful shiny red truck, and desired the truck.  The used car salesman wanted to sell the truck, so he explained that it was not old, did not have any damage, and was impressive in power and durability.

As was the job of the used car salesman he asked this young man about his needs, his desires, and his experience.  This young man explained how he had once owned an old beat up car, and had treated it poorly.  He had wrecked his car, and totaled it.  He could not continue to pay what he owed on that old car and declared bankruptcy.

Now he had a minimum wage job at a fast food joint and he needed a car to get to work.  He liked the fancy big red truck, and he wanted the fun and prestige that could be his.  He had no collateral, but he would agree to the lowest monthly payment and in ten years the car would be paid off.

The used car salesman saw the credit score was 300.  Loans which had been defaulted, promises broken, and missing payments had all been factored into that number.  This young man had one simple request: "I really need this, and I promise I'll do better this time.  I have learned my lessons and I will be more wise from here on.  I will be perfect, but I need this before I can do it.  Will you help me?"

No.   The answer was no.  The used car salesman was not being mean, nor was he treating this young man unfairly.  The used car salesman knew that if he made sales like this he would find himself taking great losses and he would be forced to stop selling cars.  He would not be a used car salesman anymore if he agreed to this type of deal.  His rules about selling cars allowed him be able to sell cars.  The young man's heart was broken.  He could not be trusted with the vehicle and he would not be able to buy the truck.

Each of us comes to our Father in Heaven asking for the great blessings of his kingdom.  We may pray for special help, we may want the divine power for healing or to serve in His kingdom.  We seek the blessings of a family and ask for a small piece of heavenly inventory to join in God's glory.  We seek to be like God and share in the holy work.

Then our Father looks at our record.  It contains all our broken promises, all our unfinished business, all our sins.  We look to Him and plead, "I really need this, and I promise I'll do better this time.  I will be perfect, but I need this before I can do it.  Wilt thou help me?"

No.  The answer is no.  God requires a perfect credit score before you can receive any of his glory.  If you have ever lied, if you have ever shown pride, if you have ever been weak then how can you say it will never happen again?  If God gave you his power, then eventually it would be misused, and the "power of God" would no longer mean you could have perfect faith in it.  God could not allow such a thing and remain God.  God cannot accept us into heaven unless we have never missed any payments - unless we have never sinned.

The young man in the parable did come back.  He came back and bought the truck that his heart desired and felt a fullness of joy.  It was done through his older brother.  His brother had taken many loans, and had made every payment until the loan was completed.  He had paid off credit cards, mortgages, school debt, and bought cars.  Every payment was always made exactly when it was supposed to be for the exact amount agreed.  The brother had a credit score of 750.

The used car salesman told the brother, "You may choose any vehicle you like, and select any of the payment plans you want.  I will sell you anything that I have on the lot."

The young man signed first, promising to pay regularly.  The brother signed under the young man's signature, promising that those payments would not be missed.  The used car salesman knew his business was safe because he could trust the brother who had always kept his word.  The young man drove away in his beautiful red truck with a fullness of joy, and went to work.

The used car salesman in this parable was my father.  I have learned about Christ from my experiences, and my dad's job has affected how I see things from a young age.  The young man was about my age and grew up in my home town.  The truck payments were made on time, and my father learned that there were times when the older brother needed to make the payment while teaching the young man to manage his finances.

"For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;" (Romans 3:23).  I cannot be trusted with the power of God because there have been times when I promised and I did not follow through.  That makes me sad, and I wish to serve the Lord but I know God cannot make exceptions to his rules.  I need Christ to sign his name under mine promising that I will make it to perfection.  The Savior pays for my mistakes, and then teaches me what is right.  "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." (1 Corinthians 15:22).

I am grateful that Christ lived righteous after suffering every temptation.  He didn't just make many loans, he took out every loan possible and paid them all.  He can be trusted with perfect faith.  When Christ says I should be blessed there is no question that it is right.  Every word from the savior will always be true.  It is through Jesus Christ that we receive holy power and divine opportunities.

I really need those blessings, and I promise I'll do better this time.  I will be perfect, but I need His help before I can do it.  I ask for the Savior's help, and he gives it.  I feel the fullness of joy and fill my daily prayers with gratitude.

The Great and Terrible Day

I'm often amazed at the way that other religions talk about judgement day.  Some people think the idea is that the second you die God puts you on a scale and all your good deeds fit on one side, and all your mistakes on the other, and if the good is heavier you will have a billion years of joy, but if it slowly drifts to the bad you will suffer pain for a trillion years to come.

Seriously?  That would be like a king grabbing a half baked pie out of the oven to determine whether the chef should be executed.  You can argue that God knows all eternity and can see what you WOULD have become in your life, but it leaves out the whole point of why God does His work.  "For behold, this is my work and my glory - to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man." (Moses 1:39).  Judgement day should be a time for the Lord's purposes to be fulfilled.   There are a few experiences in my life which have helped me understand what judgement day will really be like.

It will be a great day

The scriptures say "Behold, the great day of the Lord is at hand" (D&C 128:24).  It will be great because the righteous have been looking forward to meeting the Lord and are ready to account for the stewardship of their lives.  The word "great" means something big and momentous, and I want it to be as thrilling as the day I found a cell phone.

For years I delivered papers on my bicycle.  One Saturday morning I nearly ran over a cell phone in the road.  It was a little scratched up, but otherwise seemed to be functioning.  This was in the early days when a small cell phone was a new novelty, and I thought my family was special because my dad actually had a cell phone similar to this one.  It was not my dad's, though, and there were at least six houses that you could say were nearby.  It was too early in the morning to knock on people's doors, and there was no way to know which house (if it was one of these) the phone belonged to.

Back in those days you couldn't lock a cell phone, and you couldn't stop someone else from using it to make long-distance calls (which were very expensive), so I decided to take the cell phone home to my Dad.  I quickly finished the paper route and showed my father.  He tried to look through the phone, but there were no saved contacts (that was a new idea at the time), and there was no history of past calls.  My father called his cell phone with this new cell phone, but all it did was show him the number, not the name of the owner.

He called the cell phone company and asked them what number he was calling from.  They informed him that the information was confidential.  He explained that we wanted to return the phone to the owner, but they refused to even tell him the number of the cell phone that he was using to call them.  I remember him saying in exasperation, "You mean if someone found my cell phone there is no way they would know the phone belonged to me even if they were my best friend?"  The operator simply said, "Nope."  My parents called a few of the houses near where I found the phone, but no one knew anything about it.

And so it was that a mysterious cell phone sat on our kitchen table.  Everyone stood around it waiting.  At some point someone would call it and then we would know the answer to the riddle.  We excitedly sat in a circle around it inventing possible stories of who the cell phone belonged to and why it was in the middle of the road.  After an hour or so we drifted away from the table, but the phone sat there in eager anticipation.  We went and started a movie.

For the righteous who wait on the Lord the words Judgement Day give this same feeling of excited eagerness.  The psalmist said, "And now, Lord, what wait I for? my hope is in thee." (Psalms 39:7).  Many have sat around dinner tables imagining stories of what it must be like to live in the presence of God, knowing that no matter how awesome your story is, the real answer is likely to be even better.  But waiting is hard.  "And in that day shall be heard of wars and rumors of wars, and the whole earth shall be in commotion, and men’s hearts shall fail them, and they shall say that Christ delayeth his coming until the end of the earth." (D&C 45:26).  After decades of waiting for the Lord it is natural to drift from conversations about the coming of the Lord and find yourself busy in daily life.

There is value to remembering the day of judgment will come.  It helps us evaluate our lives every day to find things that we need to fix.  The biggest key to having a great judgement day is to have a desire to be like Jesus.  That will guide the choices I make and help me decide what my priorities should be.  Judgement day will not be based on whether I have more good than evil - it will be based on what kind of person I have become.  Was I the type of person that gave up on waiting and stopped trying to live the commandments, or was I the type of person that kept an ear out for the Holy Ghost to guide me to the things that I need to change?

BEEDLE DEE DEE BEE DEE DEE DEE
BEEDLE DEE DEE BEE DEE DEE DEE

This was before ring-tones, so it sounded like an ice cream truck had exploded in our kitchen.  For one second everyone sat up.  Honestly I had forgotten.  It was an interesting movie and I didn't know what that sound could possibly be, and I didn't know why everyone seemed so thrilled about it.  Everyone ran into the kitchen exclaiming "It's ringing!  It's ringing!"  There was a genuine fear that they might miss the call and lose their opportunity.  My father grabbed the phone:

"Hello!"
"Hello?"
"Who is this?"
"Uh - I was wondering the same thing.  Who is this?"
"This is the Crawfords.  We found this phone and we've been waiting to find out who it belongs to!"
"This is Mr. Burgess.  I've spent all morning looking for my phone!  I finally went to the police station to report it stolen.  The officer here just suggested I try calling it.  I'm surprised to hear someone answer it!"
"And we're just as excited to hear someone call it!"

The following conversation was satisfying and exciting.  When Mr. Burgess heard it was in the street a block from his house it was determined he must have put it on top of his car and driven off about 5 minutes before I got there.  Surely other cars would have crushed the phone had it not been a bicycle that came across it.  The phone was returned and that month the paper boy got a tip in his paycheck.

I still remember the feelings I had when I realized I had forgotten the phone would ring.  I remember the shock from head to toe that something I knew would be exciting and would happen soon had suddenly occurred and I wasn't ready.  I was the last to get to the kitchen where others were already dancing in excitement.  I vow to not be caught off guard when I hear the sound of the Lord's coming: "For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God:" (1 Thessalonians 4:16)

It will be a terrible day

The coming of Christ is often referred to as "the great and the terrible day of the Lord" (Joel 2:31).  This could refer to the initial coming of Christ at the beginning of The Millennium, or the day of final judgement itself.  Either way the message is clear - it will be a great day for those that have been looking for the Lord, and a terrible day for those who have not repented.

It is a sad fact that people can sin, lie, or steal and get away with it.  Sometimes you can refuse to confess and not be punished.  We hear people say that we should whoop it up while we're young and do whatever your heart desires, but like Ecclesiastes 11:9 says "Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment."   The time always comes for an accounting, and it's not pleasant those who owe a debt.

My father knows about debts well.  As a used car salesman he often makes contracts with people who don't have a lot of money.  Typically he tries to work with the customer if the payments are falling behind.  It's much better to keep the car with the customer than to try to clean it back up and resell it.  Still some people refuse to make payments on the vehicle, and they refuse to bring the car back.  A car salesman who allows that would quickly go bankrupt and cease to be a car salesman.  For them Judgement Day is called Repo-Day.

One man in particular had been very argumentative about his truck payments.  He had made three or four payments on the truck and then stopped.  My father had called to ask him what his situation was, and most of the time he simply refused to continue the call.  Once he told my father he wasn't sure when he would be able to continue payments, and when my dad met him on the street he said money was tight and he wouldn't be able to pay anymore. The truck was his, however, and he told my dad he needed the vehicle.  My father explained that he could try to adjust the payment plan to fit his finances, but he could not simply allow the man to take a truck after paying a few hundred dollars.  The man explained to my dad that if he came within 10 feet of his truck he would find out just how tough and mean this muscular man could be.

More phone calls and letters went unanswered, and after a year my father realized there was no further use in offering help.  He called the police and explained that as was his legal right he would be repossessing the truck.  Judgement Day had come.  The man lived a little ways out of town, so before dawn the next morning my father asked a friend to drop him off.  Then he waited around the corner to make sure the house was quiet in the dim light of the morning.  To his surprise the man came out of the house with a large muscular friend and loaded several boxes of fishing stuff in the truck.  Then they loaded a cooler of food.  As they went back in the house my father realized this was likely his last chance.

He ran to the truck, used his key to open it and start it.  At the sound of the engine the two men ran outside and for a second they saw my father in the drivers seat and knew exactly what was happening.  Their faces contorted with rage as they hopped in the friend's truck to give chase.  My father drove back towards town, but these two men apparently knew some short cuts.  As my father rounded a dirt corner on a narrow road the friend's truck suddenly screeched to a halt in front of him.  Both men got out of the truck and slowly walked the ten feet to my father's truck.  The look on their faces told him they were angry and ready to fight.  He started to roll down the window while quietly putting the truck in reverse.   He waited until they were almost to his window before popping the clutch and goosing the gas.  His truck jumped backwards and zipped around the corner as the men scrambled back to their vehicle.  Once in the city my father drove the familiar road away from the car lot and towards the church.  He hid the truck in the church parking lot where he guessed these men were unlikely to ever come.

A few hours later in his office at the car lot this man came in.  He did not have his friend with him, and he did not look angry.  In a resigned despondent tone he told my father that he was probably going to be violent that morning because he was angry and surprised.  Now he was ready to talk.  He had called the police to report the truck stolen and told them who had done it and suggested how the police should handle my father.  They had given him a lesson on the legalities of the issue and scolded him for "stealing the truck by taking it and then not paying for it".  He asked my father what his options were.

The fishing gear my father was willing to return, but the truck would only be returned if the man paid up the back payments which were missing.  He promised he would restart the payments, that within a few months he would get caught up.  He promised to send a check within a week.  He made a lot of promises.  My father explained that he would see the truck again only when the back payments were paid up.  The man said it would be done in a week.  My father never saw him again.

This man knew an accounting would come, but as long as it was in the future he could push it out of his mind.  Even when there were signs and warning that he would lose his truck he ignored them.  I suppose he assumed my father would eventually decide it wasn't worth his time.  I think he thought my father would forget.  But the sale of that truck was needed to keep the business running, and if my father ignored him he would cease to be a used car salesman.  Likewise "do ye suppose that mercy can rob justice? I say unto you, Nay; not one whit. If so, God would cease to be God." (Alma 42:25).  The time will come when God will come to those who refused to repent and they will lose their privileges.  Not just a truck, but they lose "glory and honour and immortality, eternal life" (Romans 2:7).  For them judgement day will be terrible, and when I remember my father's truck I commit myself to not be in that category.

We will confess his judgment is just

At BYU there was a unique teacher who structured his undergraduate statistics class in a strange way.  Dr. Fields had this unique rule: The only deadline is the final.

Homeworks were assigned each week, but the only deadline for them was the final.  The class project was something the students could do half way through the semester, but the only deadline was the final.  Sections in the text that they needed to follow were clearly scheduled, but as long as everything was done by the final it was accepted.  These rules were very clearly explained to the students at the beginning of class, and emphasized repeatedly throughout the semester.  Few teachers employ this rule because they know exactly what happens.

The students invariably learn a harsh lesson on judgement day.  Since I was a graduate student I didn't take this class, but I watched with fascination as the same story happened each time.  A few students did the homework every week.  Most of the students found the last week of class to be dreadful.  Some students realized they had deceived themselves and signed up for the class next semester without even trying.  They would be the ones to do the homework every week the next time.

The first day of the  last week of class most of the students turned in homework 1.  Then the next day a mass turned in homework 2.  The day after a bunch of homework 3's were completed.  Day four saw a couple of homework 4's.  By day 5 there was only a trickle of homework 5's.  A bare handful managed to get to homework 10.  The grades were easy to assign - it was divided by how much work the students handed in.

What fascinates me is that although a huge chunk of the class found themselves in desperate circumstances that last week - almost no one ever complained.  The students who had done the homework faithfully during the semester didn't complain that the other students didn't deserve a chance at redemption.  And the students who were unable to finish the homework during finals week didn't complain that they were devastated.  Everyone agreed that the rules were just and fair, and that their grade was a result of their own faithfulness or slacking.

When we stand before Christ it will not be like a court room where we hope to argue our way to a better grade.  We will know exactly who we are and Christ will see us perfectly.  "Yea, every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess before him. Yea, even at the last day, when all men shall stand to be judged of him, then shall they confess that he is God; then shall they confess, who live without God in the world, that the judgment of an everlasting punishment is just upon them; and they shall quake, and tremble, and shrink beneath the glance of his all-searching eye." (Mosiah 27:31)

The lesson I learned from Dr. Field's class is how foolish it is to assume I can repent at the last minute and God will somehow let me slide.  I need to practice my faithfulness now so that I can be ready at the Final day.  I know what God wants me to do, and I know what things I still need to repent of, and if I fail to keep my covenants I know it is my own decision.  On the other hand I know that if I stay faithful the Lord will give me a good grade based on my efforts to live righteously.  The syllabus is spelled out in the scriptures, and just as everyone else I must declare God is just.

God's mercy will be clear

These stories tend to be about times someone faced a terrible judgment, and maybe that's because it's easy to write stories where the end is decisively climactic.  It's easy to think of stories where warnings were not heeded and the punishment was swift.  The truth is that judgement day is scheduled to allow God to give us all the mercy we are willing to receive.   Because we are mortal and limited these stories do not show the infinite patience God shows us.  That means each story could be imagined very differently by thinking of how God would have handled it.

I know I personally pray for God's mercy... but all too often I am swift to deal out justice.  I experienced this inequality first hand as a deacon in Sunday School.  My teacher seemed to have a pet peeve for students who tipped back in their chair.   I seemed to have a thing for irritating people with pet peeves.  I made a point to tip my chair back and lean it against the little wooden chair rail guard that ran around the room.  My teacher told me not to tip my chair back, and I would obediently set all four legs on the floor again.  For 20 seconds, and then lean my chair back.  After the fifth time of telling me to set my chair down I could tell the teacher was frustrated.

At this point do I deserve mercy?  The answer is no, and when the teacher kicked the chair leg the lesson I learned was fully deserved.  Still, when my head cracked against the chair rail and the air went out of my lungs I could tell the teacher felt bad.  He apologized while I cried, and told me he wished he had acted differently.  I didn't get mad at him - I knew I deserved it, and I made sure to set my chair flat from then on.  Still the lesson I learned could have been taught a different way, and the teacher testified that God prefers to teach through love, and not fear.

Heavenly Father is the greatest teacher imaginable, and He will not have the regret my teacher showed.  Even when we deserve to crack our heads on the edge of the chair rail he will use any other method that we are willing to respond to first.  Nephi tried to explain this to his brothers: "Ye have seen an angel, and he spake unto you; yea, ye have heard his voice from time to time; and he hath spoken unto you in a still small voice, but ye were past feeling, that ye could not feel his words; wherefore, he has spoken unto you like unto the voice of thunder, which did cause the earth to shake as if it were to divide asunder." (1 Nephi 17:45).   Rough translation: God tried to be nice, and you wouldn't listen.  God always tries mercy first.

We will be judged based on who we are

One of my good friends Tyler Payne shared a story with me that had a great impact.   He said at one point his brother was struggling to follow the commandments and just when he needed family support the most he decided to leave and try living on his own.  Tyler and his family were terribly sad - they knew this was not going to be a good choice, and that the friends he would go to were not the type of influence he needed.  The morning that he left the family gathered together and knelt for family prayer.  The mother simply prayed that their son "will learn that wickedness never was happiness".

This quote from Alma 41:10 is not saying that wickedness can't be pleasurable.  It's saying that a person who likes wickedness cannot be a person filled with happiness.  Lasting eternal joy comes only through the Lord Jesus Christ.  His brother was making poor choices, but he still believed that he could be a good person inside and find happiness anyway.

All day the family prayed and worried.  Late that night - very late that night Tyler's brother walked in the door.  When met by his parents all his said was: "I have learned that wickedness never was happiness."

I don't know how he knew the exact right words to say, but Tyler's mother knew her prayer had been heard.  This brother began to make some serious changes and became a better person.  Do we care what problems he struggled with or specific sins he was fighting?  The only thing we really care about is that he became a better person.  He learned what he needed to follow the Savior.  All of us will have made mistakes, and I can certainly testify that wickedness has not brought me happiness.  If we change and improve our lives we can enter the celestial kingdom if we have become someone who can walk in the doorway of heaven and testify, "I have learned that wickedness never was happiness."

I will know what my own judgement is

When my son Thomas just two years old he changed dramatically.  He realized that not only could he choose the cereal he wanted, he could say "NO" to cereal he did not want.  He could say "NO" to a book he did not like, and he began to exercise his ability to reject or refuse things a way to explore his world.  Thus began the "terrible two's".

One Saturday afternoon he drew a picture, and then was delighted to crumple it into a ball and throw it.  He could do that - it was fun.  But after a throw or two he decided he was done and went to play with another toy.  Teasha informed him that he needed to throw his crumpled paper in the trash before he could play with the next toy.  He looked at us and said "NO".

Now I'm a big fan of freedom and creativity, but there has to be rules and limits.  This piece of paper wasn't important, but the fact that his mother told him to do something - that matters.  So this was a situation were "NO" was not allowed.  We told him he WOULD be throwing the paper ball away.   Thus began a two hour ordeal.

Some of you are saying it's impossible for a two year old to be stubborn for two hours.  You obviously do not have children.  We used commanding voices, soft voices, cajoling, reverse psychology.  We ordered while towering over him.  We knelt and playfully acted like it was a game.  We turned into a competition and sang a song about it.  I kid you not - the boy simply stood there and said "NO" to absolutely everything.  As young parents we were flummoxed.

So after the five minutes we both came to the conclusion that we absolutely could not back down.  It was clear that a commandment had been given, and if we let this go it would undermine his ability to learn respect and obedience.  After ten minutes it was clear that this was not going to be an easy fix.  It wasn't simply that we needed to find the right way to ask.  He was going to disobey no matter what.  Consequences would need to be determined.   We chose not to use physical pain (such as spanking) for this case, and we were ready to take turns if our frustration levels started climbing.
The rules were declared as follows:
All rules are to be clearly explained and followed
Either mom or dad would be by him at all times so that he was could not run off and play
He would be allowed to do nothing fun until the paper was thrown away
It had to be thrown away by Thomas himself with no help
He had thirty seconds to throw the paper away before he would sent to his bed
While in bed there would be no toys, books, or playing
He would stay in bed for five minutes and then be brought back to the piece of paper
When at the piece of paper a 30 second count down begins
The time spent in bed can increase each time he goes there
The rules absolutely cannot and will not ever change
One the paper is thrown away these rules end

Our Heavenly Father has laid out rules just as clear, and when we get to heaven there will be no excuse for us if we have not obeyed.  "There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated - And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated." (D&C 130:21-22).  Our judgement will not be based on God's mood that day - we will all

After the first hour passed I had started to wonder if there was any point to it all.  I had to face the fact that it was possible Thomas would NEVER actually choose to throw the piece of paper away.  I knew it was within his abilities, and I knew he was choosing wrong, but somehow I kept at it in five minute increments.  After very nearly 120 minutes of this Thomas came out, picked up the piece of paper, threw it in the trash, and ran past us into the front room.  We allowed him to play while pretending our nerves hadn't just frayed to the edge.

I'm sure that in Thomas' mind we just super cruel parents, but I laid down the rules clearly and he knew them.  The fact that it took hours for him to believe me is a different problem.  When we get to heaven God will say to us, "the rules were clear, and you made your choices..." and I will know He is right.   There will be no anticipation, no surprise, I will know what type of person I have become.  This will be my judgement, to see myself for who I truly am.  A happy judgement is to realize we are like Christ.  "Wherefore, my beloved brethren, pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of his Son, Jesus Christ; that ye may become the sons of God; that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope; that we may be purified even as he is pure." (Moroni 7:48).  The more I learn about judgement day the stronger my desire to learn about Christ and emulate Him.  That will be the rule to measure ourselves by.

I do not currently feel like I am ready to be judged, and I am comforted by the fact that if I died right now I would still have time to try to perfect myself.  The idea of judgement looms great and terrible, but since I have learned more about God's justice and mercy I feel inspired to improve myself.  I know that I am not yet like Christ, but I have hope that with time I can learn the self-control I need to be pleased to stand in the presence of God to be judged.

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.