Go, Go, Joe! (Part II)

Joseph's story is the ultimate tale of rags-to-riches.  In a nutshell, here's what happened:

He's loving life, enjoying his dad's praise and love.  He gets this totally awesome coat for no reason other than his dad thinks he's great. His brothers get ticked because he's favored and literally sell him to the gypsies (boy, if I had a dollar for every time I was threatened with that as a kid!).  He tries to be a nice guy, gets a sweet gig cleaning house for the captain of Pharaoh's guard, but his boss's wife tries to put the moves on him and he gets framed and thrown in prison.  While in jail, Joseph relies on God to interpret the dreams of some of the other prisoners, which gets Pharaoh's attention.  Joseph gets an even sweeter gig as "Pharaoh's Number Two" and eventually saves a bunch of people from famine, including all Egypt and his brothers who'd tried to kill him, returning their spite with kindness, and everyone lives happily ever after!

Pretty great, right?

You know, each of us has a story.  We, like Joseph, go through ups and downs along the journey--we've all got "prison cells" in our lives as well as times when we're on top of the world!  It's up to us to make those "rags" moments into "riches" moments.  Jesus can help with that.  He's restored information about who we are, why we're here, and how we can overcome through a prophet--a man who speaks with God and can help us find God's will in our lives (like Joseph!  he was a prophet, did you know that?).

From rags...

...to riches!

Click around the links on my blog (especially the links to my facebook page and mormon.org)--it's my privilege as a missionary to help people find God's strength and love in their lives.  There are resources to help you out.

Much Love, 

Elder Spendlove

Hold On

We all face trials in our lives, whether outside of ourselves or within.  Sometimes, the battles we fight within ourselves are more troubling and more scarring than the ones we fight on the outside.  I think the idea of recognizing our personal inadequacies, especially when they glare us in the face, can have a crippling effect on who we want to become and where we want to be if we aren't careful.

I was reading an article this morning from one of the leaders of our church, and he referenced Peter's experience in the Bible when Jesus was walking on the water toward them and told Peter to come out on the water and meet him.  He started to go, but became afraid and started to sink.  He cried out to Jesus, who caught hold of him and took him to the boat in safety.  Now think about that--Peter was an expert fisherman.  He'd seen plenty of storms before, and surely winds and waves fiercer, higher, and stronger than those on the sea that night.  So what was it that caused him to sink?  The scriptures say "he was afraid", and cite "little faith" and "doubt" as some of the factors (see Matthew 14 for the rest of the story). 

Now, if a great man like Peter was called "thou of little faith", that means I have a long way to go.  But Jesus understands.  He gets the fact that I'm an imperfect person and won't be able to live up to expectations all the time (especially self-imposed expectations!  Goodness knows I give myself a hard time about a lot of things..).  But that doesn't mean I don't try.  That doesn't mean I don't meet Him half way, or 10% of the way, or half-a-percent of the way.  Hold on.  He's coming to rescue you, whether it's the winds and the waves that have you worried, or it's the doubt, fear, internal struggles you've got.  Just hold on.

Much Love,

Elder Spendlove

*Comment below or on my facebook: How do you find the strength to hold on?

A Pearl of Great Price: Part III

Over the next several weeks, I pondered on the singularity of the events the night of the sandstorm.  What strange events they had been indeed.  How could it have been that I would have chanced upon such a marvellous person as I had?  And how had he bested the storm enough to have reached out in love and compassion toward me?  Surely, I thought, there must be a way to overcome as he had, to reach out and think not of yourself in the perilous times, to not take only, but to give.  Though I had encountered him but once, this man, this friend inspired me as a great mentor.  I hoped to God I would meet him again.

A word about survival in the desert:  if ever you should venture out as I did, remember that food and water are very scarce.  I know that sounds obvious, but you really don't grasp that concept until you have to go days without restocking your supplies.  It was about three weeks into my journey that I realized I would probably be without water for a few days; prior to that, small rivulets or streams had zig-zagged across the sparsely vegetated desert floor, providing for my thirst.  However, as I ventured farther and farther into the barrenness, the streams no longer flowed the direction I knew I needed to go and I found myself drawing solely upon the water I kept in reserve in my animal skin, which, I realized to my utter disappointment, was not entirely full.  How foolish I had been, when the water was plentiful, to not fill my skins with all the water I could carry!  I remember thinking to myself, "Well, the little streams will run along for another while, I'll be alright.  Besides, water is heavy!  why carry it when there is an abundance?"  Indeed I had played the fool.

A Pearl of Great Price: Part II

The more I studied the more I knew.  And the more I knew, the more I knew I didn't know (funny how life's ironies seem to accompany the thing we want most).  But that didn't quell my determination; rather, it seemed to me that I would discover, through the experience of it all, how to find the best way to this Promised Land.  What intrigued me the most was that the records all indicated the presence of a Desert Guide--a benevolent Wanderer sent by God to assist weary travellers in their journey.  The prophecies were unfortunately vague and gave no indication at his name or figure--I was thus left only to hope for some Godsent boon if I were indeed to meet such a one as had been spoken. 

After years of preparation--both physical, mental, and emotional--and countless hours of diligent study, the dawn of my venturing-forth came (as it is not my intent to focus on my home life, but rather tell the tale of my quest for the pearl, I will spare you the unimportant details).  As I rose to the door of our ancestral yurt that morning, I breathed in the scents and emotions of my village life.  I would certainly miss the regularity of my childhood, the certainty of shelter and food, and the familiarity and friendship of those whose faces had smiled on my youth.  Indeed it would be a perilous journey, each day filled with hardships I could not then comprehend.  I would face the unabated brutality of a barren waste, with no respite from wind, sun, and the dangerous creatures of the sands. 

Notwithstanding, it was indeed time for me to embark on the journey I knew I was born to take.  I gathered my sparse accoutrements (not much more than a traveller's tent, rations, copied portions of the records of the ancients, a knife that belonged to my grandfather's grandfather, and all the hope I could muster), bid my incredulous and reluctant friends and kinsfolk farewell, and set out in search of the treasure I knew with all my heart was waiting for me. 

I was on my way.