Savior, Redeemer of My Soul

Savior, Redeemer of my soul,
Whose mighty hand, hath made me whole,
Whose wondrous power hath raised me up
And filled with sweet my bitter cup!
What tongue my gratitude can tell,

Oh gracious God of Israel.

Never can I repay thee, Lord,
But I can love thee. Thy pure word

Hath it not been my one delight,

My joy by day, my dream by night?
Then let my lips proclaim it still,
And all my life, reflect thy will.

O'er rule mine acts to serve thine ends.

Change frowning foes to smiling friends.
Chasten my soul till I shall be
In perfect harmony with thee.
Make me more worthy of thy love,
And fit me for the life above.

If I had to describe how I feel about Jesus Christ and the Atonement, it would be in the form of this beautiful, and most sacred hymn. I testify of the purifying, and enabling, power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Test it out in your own life. Turn to the Lord, and he shall heal you. Jesus Christ is my joy, and my song. I know that He lives. I know he will come again.

To Bless the Life of Another

Last night I was on my knees. I've been worried and concerned about a few things, and last night it became all too overwhelming for me, and I had to take it to the Lord. While praying, a feeling of peace came and I was filled with gratitude for a loving Heavenly Father who provides us with the Gift of the Holy Ghost. While talking with my Heavenly Father, the thought came to read Alma 17. Great. Love that chapter. It's when Ammon and the Sons of Mosiah begin their missions. I thought that was an appropriate reading assignment.

Bother Me.

The other day, Sister Randall and I were tracting in a charming little town called Red Lodge. It's pretty cute. We were knocking on this one door where there was no answer. We knocked again. Still nothing. We were about to leave our card when a man from across the street yells at us, "No one lives there!" We yell back our thanks, and head over to talk with him. We ask him if he lives here, to which he responds, "Depends on what you want." We told him that we were the missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. To this, he put up his hands in the air, and said that he didn't want to talk to us. "Oh, well we are sorry." I offered. I then asked what I thought was an innocent question: "Have you ever talked to missionaries before?" To this the man became livid, and began yelling, "I said I don't want to talk to you! I'm nice the first time, but the second time I get cranky! Get out of here! Stop bothering people!" We wished him a good day, and walked away.

"Except a man be born again..."

I have recently had the occasion to reflect on the concept of being "Born Again." Indeed, as a missionary I have been asked on numerous occasions if we, as member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint believe in being born again. In response to this question, I pose a question of my own. Are we not Christians? Do our beliefs not all center in our Savior, our Redeemer, the Prince of Peace, the Holy one of Israel, the Son of God, even Jesus the Christ?

Come and Fear Not

I believe in miracles. Maybe you do also. I've seen enough of them in my life to know that they exist, and they remind us of God.

"And who shall say that Jesus Christ did not do many mighty miracles? And there were many mighty miracles wrought by the hands of the apostles. And if there were miracles wrought then, why has God ceased to be a God of miracles and yet be an unchangeable Being? And behold, I say unto you he changeth not; if so he would cease to be God; and he ceaseth not to be God, and is a God of miracles." (Mormon 9: 18-19)

Life Lessons

Reflect back on your life. I know, right? There's a lot to it. Now focus in on school; let's say 3rd Grade. That's when you were more likely than not learning multiplication and division. Remember those questions Mrs. Jones would ask you? "What is 12 multiplied by 6?" Oh snap. Your heart would beat a little faster, your palms would sweat, and the cogs of your mind would struggle to function a little faster. Your face would screw up in concentration, and suddenly your mind tried to compute the hardest question of your life. "18, no wait, 72." Got it. Mrs. Jones nodded, and moved on to the next victim. Phew. You sigh a deep sigh of relief, lean back in your seat, and feel pretty darn good that you got the answer right.