Reading
this post by Brookewill gave me the kernel of an idea that I needed to complete a short piece that I've been trying to write about grace.
Grace is an almost foreign concept in the Mo world. Though we espouse a belief in both grace and works, the balance of doctrine and ritual weigh in on the side of works. So when a friend suggested that I write about a moment grace I was hard-pressed to do so. Though my favorite hymn is "Amazing Grace" (not in the Mormon hymnal, btw), I have rarely thought through the concept or tried to apply it to my own religious practice or belief.
So here's my moment of "grace":
When I was 12 I was boy-crazy. Sometimes I even kissed boys in the halls at school. Enjoying the power the promise of such kisses held. Imagining myself a winsome beauty. Relishing the whispers of girls who gossiped about such things. Knowing that I was the center of scandal.
When I was 13 and I was diagnosed with bone cancer, I started to feel guilty about my boy-craziness. When someone suggested that my cancer was God’s way of punishing me for kissing boys during my lunch hour, I believed them. I knew I was supposed to wait for such things until I was 16, or I was engaged to a good Mormon boy. Maybe God knew that only way to for me to ever end up worthy for the temple was to make me so sick that I no longer thought about boys.
Now, with the temple marriage behind me and more than twenty years since my diagnosis, I still wonder why I got cancer. But I recently gave up the belief that my cancer was God’s doing. He and I have talked about that. And I now know that it was as hard on him as it was on me.
2 comments:
Wonderful story. And a great lesson we all should learn. The idea of grace has been a more frequent topic of discussion among the Saints in the last 25 years (mainly, I believe, because we're paying better attention to the Book of Mormon), but I think the real meaning of it has yet to impact us in a serious way.
A number of years ago a friend of mine returned from a winter trip by car to Utah. At a point in his journey, he passed by several cars that had hit black ice on I-15 and skidded off the road only minutes before he came upon them. He later said he had prayed prior to his trip for the Lord to "keep us safe from harm during our trip." But he reflected that many of those who skidded off the road probably had said the same thing that morning. Why did God hear his prayer and not theirs?
My conclusion is that God isn't constantly involved to the level we often assume. He's not a puppet-master, constantly tweaking this and getting involved in that. He allows us to make dumb choices (like driving too fast on black ice). He lets nature pretty much take its course (like allowing cancer to develop in the leg of 13-year-old girl). I don't think he deserves much credit or blame for the majority of things that happen.
All we need to do is accept that we are the recipients of the miraculous blessings of life and choice and seek his will as we use them.
Dear Anonymous:
I particularly like your last paragraph. More than anything, I am in awe of the gift of life and choice--mine and those of everyone I meet.
I feel closest to the divine when I am celebrating these gifts.
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