Hope

As I finished reading the Book of Mormon this time around, something struck me more than usual. I like to read books as though I were the author, and try to figure out why they wrote certain things in certain ways, and what they meant by certain things they wrote. As I read the end of Moroni, I found the 7th chapter to be especially interesting, considering the position that Moroni was in when he wrote it. After all of his family and friends had died, as he wondered alone in the wilderness fearing death at the hands of the Lamanites, he wrote a chapter about hope and charity. The words are not his, but are a direct quote from his father. I think it no coincidence that Moroni includes, multiple times, the kind words of his father directly to him; I think doing so was a source of comfort to him, and I think he wanted to show the world what a good father looks like.

The words of Mormon, written by Moroni in Chapter 7 of the Book of Moroni are especially poignant when viewed from the eyes of the lone Moroni. I assume these words were very special to Moroni; that he treasured them. I assume he read them often in his difficult situation. I am grateful he felt to share them with the rest of us, that we may have them as a source of comfort as well.

To have hope is such a gift. We need not be abounding in wealth to have hope. Nor do we need to be in the depths of poverty to benefit from it. I do not believe a human can live without hope of some sort. The hope Mormon refers to is the hope of Christ. Hope in a better life. With this hope, nothing is ultimately sad, because life is just part of the process to get us a better life. Death and sickness and suffering, while not to be underplayed, are not as hard to endure when we have hope in Christ, and hope for a better life. I have this hope. I know He lives.

The Final Kick

The Gospel of Jesus Christ, as defined by Christ, consists of Faith in Jesus Christ and His atonement, repentance, baptism, receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end. Enduring to the end is the hard part.

When I was in high school I decided to join the cross country team. No one was cut from the team, because the coach did not feel that was necessary. Anyone who didn't really want to be there would quit within a week or two. I did not join because I loved to run, nor because I was good at running. I joined because I had friends in cross country, and because I wanted to see if I could handle it.

I have been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from birth, but I feel that this experience taught me a little bit about what it would be like to join the Church as a convert. The cross country team had their own lingo, and they already knew each other. I was an outsider, and I wasn't good at running. And it was hard. If I had been there solely for the company of my friends, my cross country career would not have lasted more than one day (I nearly fainted after the first practice from dehydration. It was September in Las Vegas, probably 105 F or more). I didn't quit because I had to prove to myself that I could do it. My friends helped me, and gave me advice, but I would not have stayed just for them. I would not still be a member of the Church if I were in it just for friends. I love the Church, as I grew to love running. I'm grateful for the friendships I have had within each, but neither is worthwhile only for the social aspects.

I have since stopped running, but I've taken up cycling. I guess I like pain. I have called my blog and this post the final kick because that is what I love most about running and cycling and life. During the last 200-300 meters, when there is nothing left but pure will and a desire for the pain to end, when at the end of a 50 mile ride, you pedal so fast you can't feel your legs - you can't hardly see - and you finish strong. To give everything you have for the entire race, and give even more during the final kick - that is what life is all about, to me.