Many times when a mountain figures in the scriptures, it points symbolically to the Temple and its ordinances. We learn through modern revelation that important keys of Priesthood were transferred on the Mount of Transfiguration, as well as the endowment of power needed for these three disciples to become the leaders of Christ's church after his departure. As we look to the Temple in our own lives, we can experience our own moments of "transfiguration," where we glimpse (for at least a few moments) a higher reality. Who are we really? The world offers one set of answers. The Temple whispers, "you are more than you dreamed, and your destiny is higher than your limited vision can comprehend."
A few years ago I wrote an article to try to explain the temple experience for those about to attend. Here it is: Dressed in White: Your Temple Experience.
The sublime 15th chapter of Luke centers on the theme of Lost and Found. The parable of the lost sheep, the parable of the lost coin, and the story of the prodigal son offer Jesus's brilliant response to the Pharisee's grumbled complaint, "This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." It is easy to overlook the fact that the parable of the Prodigal Son is really about two sons. (Each receives exactly the same number of verses.) While the prodigal wastes his substance and falls to pieces, the faithful son dutifully does all that is asked of him. But when the sad, wasted son returns, his brother cannot be happy. He sulks outside, feeling, as Elder Holland says, that if his brother receives love and attention he is somehow diminished. Unfortunately, envy and jealousy sap the joy out of so many of our life experiences. Listen to Elder Holland's remarks:
We can see ourselves in the prodigal, and perhaps even in the loving parent running out to greet the wayward child. It may be harder to recognize ourselves in the sullen, offended faithful one, who has been at all the meetings, kept the Sabbath, held Family Home Evening and done the visiting teaching, but who hasn't received the answers to prayers, or the recognition, or the church positions, or whatever we may have thought would be our reward for that faithfulness. To be cleansed of that kind of narrow thinking is as much a product of Christ's redeeming grace as is the forgiveness of the vilest sins.
And that brings us to grace, that amazing, elusive quality that is the essence of what it means to be Christian, yet is also the subject of so much debate among them! One of the best summations of the importance of grace in relation to works comes from C.S. Lewis: "The debate about grace vs. works? It's like asking which blade of the scissors is most important." When Nephi says, "We are saved by grace, after all we can do," we sometimes are tempted to feel that it is only after doing all that we can do that we can reach out for grace. But Stephen Robinson reminds us that seeing it in that way is like saying, "As soon as I get well, I'll take the medicine." We are trying to save ourselves when we already have a Savior. So, what does it mean to be saved by grace?
Robert Millett explains that “this does not mean that we must do everything we can do BEFORE Christ can assist us. This is not about chronology. Further, who do you know who has or will ever do ALL they can do? Grace is not just that final boost into heaven that God provides at the end of a well-lived life, although we obviously will need all the help we can get. Rather, the Almighty assists us all along the way, every second of every minute of every hour of every day, all through our lives. It does not mean that we will carry the bulk of the load to salvation and Jesus will fill in the gaps; he is not the God of the gaps. Our contribution to glory hereafter, when compared to his, is infinitesimal and minuscule. If I might be permitted a paraphrase of what the passage stated, “We are saved by grace, above and beyond all we can do, notwithstanding all we can do, in spite of all we can do” ("Claiming Christ", p. 188).
The beautiful poem, The Lanyard, describes a young boy offering his mother a lanyard he made at camp. The poem lists all of the gifts, graces and services that this mother has showered upon her son, including the gift of life. In return, he offers her a lanyard, and feels that they are now, "about even." "All we can do," amounts to just about the equivalent of that lanyard, in the eternal scheme of things. Yet every mother knows how precious those little offerings of lanyards (or crafts or pictures) are when they come from open, childish hearts. Perhaps our feeble attempts at righteous service and obedience are just as precious to the Lord. Though not worth much in the grand scheme of things, our works are precious gifts to Him, as evidence of our loving acceptance of Him as our Spiritual Father and Savior.
