Mother, Thy Faith Will Make Thee Whole

Photo by Dawid Sobolewski on Unsplash

Being a mother—this has always terrified me. The discomfort and pain, the lack of sleep, the complete surrender of personal desires... That doesn't sound very appealing. Not to mention, I feel incredibly under-qualified. If motherhood was a job and I had to turn in a resume, there would be no reason for Heavenly Father to hire me.

And yet, he will anyway. Me, an under-qualified candidate who has always dreaded the idea of having children.

Someday, I'll be a mother. Weird.

But this post isn't for me. I write this for all of those young mothers that I know. The mothers that I see trying so hard to raise their children and still stay on their feet. They all look so strong! These new mothers take the pain and the fatigue with such grace. Yet, I know it can't be easy.

If they are anything like I would be, they don't feel qualified for the work they are doing. It must be overwhelming and just plain exhausting.

If I were to send these amazing mothers anywhere, it would be to Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's talk, "Because She Is a Mother." When I become a mother myself, I think I might listen to this every day. It's that powerful and reassuring.

The part that stood out to me this time around was the very end, when Elder Holland compares mothers to the woman in Matthew 9:20-22 who had the faith to be healed, but did not feel worthy enough to approach the Savior directly. I had never thought about it before, but this woman is so similar to the mothers I know: She did everything in her power to find the cure to her disease, hiring doctor after doctor, taking medicine after medicine. I'm sure that she prayed to Heavenly Father for help during those 12 years of sickness. Any mother will do the same, doing everything in her power to raise her children the best she can.

And just like with the woman in the Bible, the answer comes in Christ. He is the healer, both physically and spiritually. If you think about it, mothers really do experience miracles every day—how else would they be able to keep going with little sleep and no time for themselves? That, to me, sounds like a miracle in which the body is literally being healed. So too can mothers, like the woman in the Bible, be spiritually healed as well.

So to all the mothers out there who are feeling a little overworked, "You are doing God's work. You are doing it wonderfully well. He is blessing you and He will bless you even—no, especially—when your days and your nights may be the most challenging. Like the woman who anonymously, meekly, perhaps even with hesitation and some embarrassment, fought her way through the crowd just to touch the hem of the Master's garment, so Christ will say to the women who worry and wonder and sometimes weep over their responsibility as mothers, 'Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole'" (Holland).

Faith Not to Be Healed

Photo by Silvestri Matteo on Unsplash

Do I have the faith to be healed? More importantly, do I have the faith not to be healed?

Elder Bednar caused me to ask that question way back in 2013, when he gave the devotional "That We Might 'Not . . . Shrink' (D&C 19:18)."

Just yesterday, I was reminded of that question again, and it's been stuck in my mind ever since. Do I have the faith to keep love in my heart, even when things don't go how I want them to? 

My biggest question is whether or not I have the faith to face my worst fears. Sometimes I'm not so sure. Whenever I imagine my fears becoming reality, I freeze up and plead to God to not let that happen. 

But what if it did?

Like it did with the leprous man in Matthew 8:1-4, who had every Jew's worst nightmare happen to him. My professor described the leper's experience in a way that became more real to me: This man had a life. He likely had a family. Until one day, when he notices a little patch of white on his finger and thinks, "No. Please, no." Soon it begins to spread, and as soon as anyone else sees, he's immediately ostracized—from family, from friends, from work.

From that point on, it's a done deal. Once pronounced unclean, there's no going back. No farewell party with the family, no packing of any bags. Suddenly, cruelly, the leper is yanked out of his world and left to suffer alone, literally (and metaphorically) falling apart from the inside out. 

What hope he must have felt when he heard of a man called Jesus, the Messiah, a performer of miracles. This was his chance! His chance to get to see his family again, to be accepted by his friends, even just to have a day without pain.

And yet, when he approaches Jesus, the humility and faith that he shows is incredible. For even after all of the suffering he has been through, even with the knowledge that Christ has healed others, he doesn't feel entitled. He begins his plea with, "If thou wilt." A pure sign of faith—the faith not to be healed.

What would have been the outcome if Christ had told this man no? Of course, he would have been disappointed, perhaps shattered for a time. But with such strong faith, he still would have continued to worship the Lord no matter what the outcome.

Though it scares me to think about it, I know that I will do the same. When the time comes that my worst fears come to light—for they will—my faith in God will not waver. Will my heart break? Yes. Will my world crumble? Yes. I don't expect otherwise. But even through all of that, I will still know that God is there and that I have a Savior who wants to help me.

Eventually, after the trial of my faith, my miracle will come. 

Are We Like Herod, Or Like the Wise Men?

Photo by Kevin Phillips on Public Domain Pictures

🎶"The wise man built his house upon the rock, the wise man built his house upon the rock!"🎶

Oh wait, wrong wise man.

Though now that I think of it, "The Wise Man and the Foolish Man" does apply pretty well to the story of the wise men who traveled so far to see the newborn babe. In fact, that simple song explains exactly what happened those many years ago.

We get the full story in Matthew 2:

1 Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judæa in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem,
2 Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.

This is where Herod (AKA, not wise man).comes in.

3 When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.
4 And when he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the people together, he
demanded of them where Christ should be born.

Already, the differences between the wise men and Herod can be seen. The wise men have traveled far to see King Herod, and they have done their research beforehand. They know who they are looking for, as well as why they are looking for him.

Herod, on the other hand, has no idea. He hasn't done his daily scripture study and instead has to rely on what others tell him. Even then, he doesn't bother to ask about why this "King of the Jews" is so important. As soon as he heard "king," his mind jumped to conclusions about who these wise men were looking for.

Later in the story, the differences between the Herod and the wise men are more significant:

7 Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, inquired of them diligently what
time the star appeared.
8 And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search diligently for the young child;
and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship him also.
9 When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was.

These three verses can actually teach us a lot about how we should approach the gospel, and what it takes to come closer to Christ. The first example, that of what not to do, is given by King Herod. When Herod found out about the new King born in Bethlehem, he certainly acted very interested, inquiring "diligently" about him. But what did Herod actually do? Not a thing. Instead, he commanded others to act for him. He, in effect, was relying on others' faith to carry him forward. In other words, he had only "built his house upon the sand."

The wise men, however, show us an exemplary pattern for how to live our own lives. For when they heard the king, they acted for themselves. They went back out into the wilderness with faith that the star would lead them. They built their house upon the Rock of their Redeemer, doing everything in their power to find him and worship him.

Obviously, calling Herod the foolish man is all good and fun, but when I look at his story more closely, I have to admit that I often do the same thing he did. How many times have I gone to church without having prepared beforehand, just expecting to get all of my spiritual enlightenment from someone else's hard work?

Or, how often do I come home from church and say, "Wow, that was really great. I hope next week is just as good!" but then go back to doing nothing to strengthen my own testimony in Christ?

Yeah, I'd say I'm pretty foolish too sometimes. But I still can become like the wise men from that day. I can choose to build my house upon the Rock by doing everything I can to come closer to him.

The Virgin Mary: Despised and Rejected of Men

Image from Nativity--Bible Images on lds.org

Have you ever thought of Mary, the mother of Jesus, as a Christ-figure? I hadn't, until this past week in my religion class.

Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer, was prophetically described in Isaiah chapter 53 as a man to be "despised and rejected of men" (verse 3). His life mission was never to gain favor in the sight of man, but instead to fulfill God's purpose. He was and is still rejected by many. I've come to accept this verse as not only a lament for the Savior's sufferings, but also as praise for a Savior who never failed to follow the Father's will.

Only recently did I start to connect this verse to Jesus's mother as well. Mary too was a woman who received ill-favor from those around her for the work that she was called to do. She, a pure and righteous virgin, was asked to give birth to the Son of God in a manner that looked illegitimate to everyone who knew her. And still, knowing the hardships that would come, she replied, "Behold, the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word" (Luke 1:38). This closely resembles the attitude of Christ's reply to the Lord's call when he agreed to the role God had planned for him: "Here am I, send me" (Abraham 3: 27).

What Mary had ahead of her was likely a life full of hatred, her peers no longer having respect for her nor her family. Perhaps her family disowned her. We really don't know. I like to think that they accepted her and believed her story, but with the amount of negative feelings that existed toward adultery then, it's possible they didn't. No wonder Mary went to Elizabeth's home "with haste," as it describes in Luke 1:39. She certainly would have been the object of spite in her own hometown, looked down on as an adulteress—even worthy of death

Looking at her story, can you see resemblances of Christ's? I can only wonder, if Jesus Christ is our Savior, what role did Mary play in helping him become so? We will never really know how she taught him or what she said, but as a mother, she would have been able to empathizes with her son during all of his suffering. From her own experience, Mary must have known a portion of what Christ was going through, both in preparation for and then during his ministry.

In some ways, I can now understand why the Catholic church puts so much emphasis on the Virgin Mary. Truly, she was a miraculous woman, and though never crucified herself, her experiences and trials resembled those of Christ.

And above all, even through the loss of honor in her family's eyes and the pain from judgmental looks, she knew she was a woman highly favored of the Lord:

And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. (Luke 1:28)

I can just imagine how Mary must have looked into the eyes of the little baby in her arms, knowing that he was the cause for so much of her pain—and yet her eyes must have been so full of love and gratitude.

In the same way, I imagine Christ looking at me, his arms outstretched to me—even after I have added to his pain. Just as Mary never lost her love for Christ, Christ will always be reaching to me with a full and happy heart, waiting for me to take his hand.