To Suffer More than All

Image from LDS Media Library

The crucifixion is always a tender moment in the scriptures, especially when really picturing the suffering that Christ went through in those final days of his life. He was mocked, most likely starved, and scourged with a whip that ripped through his skin until his entire back was an open wound. 

The Romans took particular care to make his suffering even more acute. They crowned him with thorns and laid a robe onto the festering wound on his back, only to rip the robe off again after blood had surely dried on it.

And after all that, it didn't end there. They continued to mistreat him, inducing more pain that I could ever imagine experiencing. He was even expected to carry his own cross! It's no wonder, after the loss of blood and the lack of food, that Christ was unable to endure the cross's burden.

It wasn't until I had really thought about what Christ was going through—the complete agony he must have felt—that I realized the significance of this passage in Luke 23, as he is walking (staggering) to Golgotha:

27 And there followed him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him.
28 But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children.
29 For, behold, the days are coming, in the which they shall say, Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bare, and the paps which never gave suck.

 When I read this, I was absolutely blown away. Here was Christ, going through a horrifying experience, and he says "Weep not for me"! Of all people, he certainly deserved the sympathy. All the world should have been weeping for him. But Christ didn't care one wit about the suffering he was going through. Instead, he was still thinking of others, concerned for their welfare more than his own. In the highest point of his agony, he turned to those he loved and felt sorrow for them.

And here I am, laying in my bed bemoaning my upset stomach and wanting all the attention of my husband, thinking, "You should feel sorry for me!" How pitiful. How humbling.

It makes me want to lay all of my pains and my fears at Christ's feet and say, "I know this isn't much, but I can't get through this without you. I need you more than you ever needed me."

The miracle of his Atonement is that Christ truly suffered more than all, and yet his love for us ran more deep than any pain.

Her Story Can Be Our Story

It's Christmastime, one of the best times of the year! I love the worldwide focus on Christ and his love. I have been thinking this week about the real reason we celebrate Christmas. Christ's birth is so important because of what he came to do for us—he broke the bands of sin and death!

He died for us, and he returned as our resurrected Savior.

After his resurrection he visited many of his disciples, and my favorite story is that of Mary Magdalene. Christ's visit to her is one of the most personal. It can be found in John 20:

15 Jesus saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.

16 Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rabboni; which is to say, Master.

17 Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father: but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God.

Mary was the first person to see our resurrected Lord! Is this not significant?

There are some that use this fact as a basis for the theory that Mary was the wife of Christ. Why else would she have been first, right?

While this theory might be true, I like the way that a guest speaker in my religion class put it. She thinks of it in a much more personal and applicable way.

What was it that really made Mary special enough that Christ appeared to her first? It was the fact that she lingered. She stayed by the tomb, mourning for her Messiah with a love that kept her eyes wet with tears. Perhaps Mary's story could have been anyone's story, if only they had lingered.

I like to think that Christ would have appeared to any disciple who did the same in that moment. That's who Christ is, after all; he is the Savior of all mankind. He loved not just the crowd, but the individual. And what made Mary special to him is that she was his disciple and his friend.

If it had been me or you that day by the tomb, would not Christ have had equal love enough to show himself to us? Yes, I think he would.

For truly, he shows himself to each and every one of us that turns our heart to him in love. It's when we linger on his words and truly sorrow for our sins that we too can see the light of our resurrected Lord.

The Humility to Be Cleansed

Image from LDS Media Library

How many times have we asked the question to ourselves, what if Christ came today? For me, it's a daunting question. Asking myself something like that, I never feel ready. I can't help but think that today my house is a disaster, I haven't read my scriptures, or it's been too long since I've actually said a sincere prayer. Whenever I think of seeing Christ, I get a little nervous, because I don't want him to see all of the weaknesses and imperfections that I have.

There's one story from Christ's ministry that calls my attention to this fact. It's in John 13, when Christ—the Christ—begins to wash the feet of his disciples. I'm not at all surprised by Simon Peter's reaction in verse 6 and 8:

"Peter saith unto him, Lord, dost thou wash my feet? . . . Thou shalt never wash my feet."

Um, yeah. If I were him, I'd be thinking the same thing. What is the Lord of heaven and earth doing kneeling down and washing my feet—the dirtiest, filthiest part of my dirt-ridden body? I don't want him to see that; I'd rather clean my feet myself. There's no need for him to stoop so low as to help me, someone who should be cleaning his feet.

And yet, Christ gives a blunt reply to this type of thinking, to which Peter realizes just how significant this action was for him:

8 . . . Jesus answered him, If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me.
9 Simon Peter saith unto him, Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my head.

This is Christ's answer to me too. For if I don't allow Christ to cleanse me, I have no part in his kingdom.

I had always just thought of this as a story about Christ's humility, but it's even more than that. This is a story about Peter's humility, and mine as well, if I can follow in the same footsteps.

How humble the disciples must have been in order to let Christ, their Messiah, wash their feet. It's an interesting idea to think about, but it's true. Just as Christ had to show humility by cleaning their feet, they had to show humility in allowing him to do so.

The same goes in my own life. I have to be humble enough to allow my Redeemer to cleanse me of every faulty aspect of my character, even the darkest and filthiest part that I would prefer no one to ever see.

Which means that even though I may be embarrassed about the pile of dishes in the sink or the untouched scriptures on the shelf, I have to be willing to tell the Lord, "Not my feet only, but also my hands and my head." Here, Lord, is every part of me. Help me to become more like thee.

A Perfect Trainer: The Miracle of the Donkey

From LDS Media Library

When I was young, I was obsessed with horses. I read every equestrian story I could get my hands on, loving every one of the horses introduced in them.

But there's one aspect of the stories that I always thought was portrayed a little unrealistically—a romanticized version of the truth. A good majority of them always told of an inexperienced horse rider who sees their dream horse and their heart flutters. Suddenly there's nothing that rider would rather do than get on that horse. Then, in almost every story, they are somehow able to train the horse through sheer emotional connection.

It's a beautiful story that any girl could fall in love with. But it's just a fantasy, right? No one would really feel such an immediate connection to a horse, or be able to get on its back with little to no effort. Right?

Turns out, there's an equestrian story just like this, based on true events, right in the New Testament. I never would have realized it without my professor pointing it out to me this past week. But it's right there, in Mark 11:1–10.

This is the story of Christ riding into Jerusalem on a donkey (it's not a horse, but it's close enough to illustrate my point). Not only was this a donkey that he had never ridden before, it was a colt—one that no one had ridden before. So Christ asks that his disciples go and get an unbroken colt so that he can ride it into Jerusalem.

If I were the apostles, I would be wondering what his plan was. How was Christ going to be able to ride into Jerusalem on a colt that had no training on carrying a man on its back? This is where my professor pointed out that the very fact that Jesus made it to Jerusalem on that donkey was a miracle. He should not have been able to ride that colt without at least a little while of training.

But then, that's not even the end of the miracle. What happens when Christ enters Jerusalem is just as astounding.

8 And a very great multitude spread their garments in the way; others cut down branches from the trees, and strawed them in the way. 

 9 And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the Son of David. . . . (Matthew 21)

So now, this poor colt, with a weight on his back he's never felt before, is walking into a huge crowd of people yelling, waving sticks at him, and putting clothes on the ground in front of him. He must have been terrified! And yet, there's never any mention of the colt freezing, bolting, or showing any other sign of fear. For the man on his back was no ordinary man.

The man on his back was his Savior. And as long as Christ had the reigns, the colt had nothing to fear.

I am the colt in this story. I am new and inexperienced when it comes to eternal things. There are moments in my life when I feel overwhelmed with everything that is going on around me, and it makes me want to freeze in my tracks.

But as long as I let Christ have the reigns in my own life, I know that I will be able to make it to Jerusalem, to the temple, and to God with no need to fear. He will lead me there, because he is the perfect trainer.