Teetering on the Edge of Remembrance

Mosiah 8:20 struck a deep chord with me today.

• The Lord works miracles.
• He suffereth long with His people.
• His people are blind and impenetrable.
• They will not seek wisdom.
• They do not even desire that wisdom should rule over them.

What a sobering description — and how perfectly it mirrors our day. We are surrounded by miracles. They are everywhere, but we must have eyes to see them. God is endlessly patient with us in our journeys, yet so many turn their backs on the Lord — on His goodness, His forgiveness, and His miracles. They refuse to listen to living prophets, to read the scriptures, or even to look honestly at the sorrow their choices bring upon those they love. Wisdom is not something they seek. They want to do it their own way.

Verse 21 adds a heartbreaking image:
“They are as a wild flock which fleeth from the shepherd… and are devoured by the beasts.”
Yes — they are.

As I read into Mosiah 9, I am introduced to the people of Zeniff. They were struggling — deep in war over worldly things (and isn’t it all worldly?) They were smitten with famine and sore afflictions. Here we go again. I find myself wondering: Are famine and destruction sometimes teaching tools our Father in Heaven uses? Are we listening? Are we watching?

We have been teetering over drought for years. This winter has been one of the worst in recorded history for snow and rain. We are on earth to learn. You would think something like this would get our attention.

Verse 17 also struck my heart. When things become difficult, we begin to remember. Why is that? My nine years of wandering weren’t all dark and miserable. There were “fun” moments — just enough to keep me moving in the wrong direction. But when I began to see that there was a better way, when I saw truly happy people living righteously, something awakened in me. I wanted what they had. What was it?

• Peace.
• Homes filled with love.
• Lives filled with purpose and power to help others.

I wanted hope — the quiet assurance that tomorrow could be better. I realized the road I was on would never lead me to that peace, that love, or the strength to overcome my weaknesses. And so it became my quest to change lanes — to change the trajectory of my life.

Oh, how grateful I am for the Atonement of Jesus Christ, which allows us that sacred luxury. I shudder to think where I might be otherwise. Yes — I was awakened to remembrance.

Then my thoughts turned to Exodus 36. This chapter fascinates me on several levels. Moses had already received the first set of commandments. He came down from the mountain to find Aaron had made a golden calf and the people were worshipping an idol. There were consequences, but that isn’t my focus right now. Soon thereafter, the Lord commands them to build a tabernacle. (Maybe this is a consequence.)

And what do I see? A people busy as bees — working with excellence and energy to build something holy for the Lord. There is a lesson here: being engaged in a good work.

I learned this as a mother raising children. When they were busy doing something worthwhile, life flowed more peacefully. They were happier, less bored, and it freed me to do the work of running a home and raising a family. Idleness so often invites trouble; purposeful work invites joy.

I still find myself wondering where all the materials for the tabernacle came from. Clyde reminds me they had worked for royalty and carried treasures with them. Perhaps they had been preparing for this moment far longer than we realize. My mind can produce endless “how did they do it?” questions. But in the end, the simple truth remains:

They did it.

And so can we — when we choose to see, to listen, to remember, and to engage in the good work the Lord places before us.