An Opportunity to Present the Truth ... by Cindy Beck

Photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Several years ago, I endured an uncomfortable plane ride home after visiting family. The roar of the jet engines—as well as people continually jostling against me as they walked the aisles—wore on my nerves and I felt frazzled. After what seemed like forever, the pilot announced we were circling Salt Lake City.

At that point, I became aware of a conversation in the seats behind me. Jeff, a young man from the Salt Lake City area, carried on an animated conversation with his seatmate, Laura, and seemed anxious to share his knowledge of the city with her. (Names have been changed.) After Jeff told her about the city’s nightlife, Laura turned the conversation to what it was like living among the Mormons.

My heart warmed when he explained that he didn’t mind living in Utah and had no problems with the members. However, joy turned to unease when Laura asked, “The Mormons have more than one wife, don’t they?”

I had no clue how many Latter-day Saints sat within earshot, but I felt an almost imperceptible increase in the tension around me, and I worried that the conversation would not end well.

Jeff responded with, “Oh yes, there are lots of them with more than one wife.”
He said it with such conviction that my annoyance level immediately skyrocketed and my worn-thin patience abandoned me. I wondered what right he had to speak so authoritatively on an issue about which he obviously knew nothing. I felt like whipping around in the seat and loudly proclaiming to Laura that Jeff had it all wrong

I recognized, however, that harsh words would create tension and drive away the Spirit at a time when I needed it most (see 3 Nephi 11:29). My mind roiled with thoughts of how to handle the situation. If I said something, would it immediately turn into an argument? Would other people feel the need to jump in on both sides of the issue?

On the other hand, I didn’t feel I could ignore the comment and my heart pounded anxiously as their conversation continued on the subject. Mentally bowing my head, I prayed, Please let someone speak up so Laura doesn’t walk out of here believing the Church currently practices plural marriage.

No one did; I realized the responsibility to correct the misconception resided with me and that I needed guidance. Taking a deep, calming breath, I sent a quick prayer for help heavenward. Then I turned around in the seat and faced the couple. “Excuse me. I’m not trying to eavesdrop, but I overheard you mention that the Mormons practice polygamy. I’m LDS, and although the Church did practice it at one time, we don’t anymore. Those engaging in polygamy today are not members but belong to splinter groups that aren’t affiliated with us.”

I waited for the verbal explosion.

A confused look crossed Jeff’s face. “You don’t practice polygamy? Oh, sorry, I thought you did. Aren’t there groups in Utah that do?”

Laura looked at me with interest, rather than the anger and derision I’d expected. I answered Jeff’s question about splinter groups and reiterated again that Latter-day Saints did not engage in the illegal practice of plural marriage.

They both thanked me for the information, and as I turned back around, I recognized the value of seeking the Spirit rather than just giving a knee-jerk reaction to an incorrect comment. I felt grateful for the prompting to take a calming breath before answering, which helped me control my anger and allowed the conversation to flow in a natural, non-confrontational manner. Responding with kindness had also afforded me the chance to learn that Jeff hadn’t intended to misrepresent the church, he simply lacked accurate knowledge.

In the October 2008 Conference, Elder Robert D Hales said, “In 1983, the First Presidency wrote to Church leaders, ‘Opposition may be in itself an opportunity. Among the continuing challenges faced by our missionaries is a lack of interest in religious matters and in our message. These criticisms create . . . interest in the Church. . . . This provides an opportunity [for members] to present the truth to those whose attention is thus directed toward us.’

“We can take advantage of such opportunities in many ways: a kind letter to the editor, a conversation with a friend, a comment on a blog, or a reassuring word to one who has made a disparaging comment. We can answer with love those who have been influenced by misinformation and prejudice—who are ‘kept from the truth because they know not where to find it’ (D&C 123:12). I assure you that to answer our accusers in this way is never weakness. It is Christian courage in action.”¹

At the time of the incident, Elder Hales hadn’t yet given his talk in General Conference. However, I can testify to the wisdom of his counsel. It takes bravery to defend the truth as well as self-discipline to do so without anger, but with the help of the Spirit, we can use Christian courage and respond to inaccuracies with loving kindness.

It’s my hope that on that day, Jeff and Laura left the plane with a newfound regard for the church, and that non-members sitting nearby, listening to the conversation, felt the Spirit touch their hearts as well.


Notes
1. Robert D. Hales, “Christian Courage: The Price of Discipleship,” Ensign, Nov 2008, 72–75.

------© Cindy Beck------

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Pursuing Promptings ... by Cindy Beck

© Cindy Beck, 2009
(Keywords: Cindy Beck, promptings, Spirit, Holy Ghost, heed promptings, pursuing promptings, Latter-day Saints, LDS, Mormon, yourLDSNeighborhood.com)

Most of us, at one time or another, have trouble heeding the promptings of the Spirit. It’s not usually a case of rebelliousness, but more a product of not understanding what we’re being told.

In the fall of 2007, an unwise decision to ignore the Spirit resulted in an accident on my bike. The broken elbow that followed gave me pause and since then, I’ve come up with a few thoughts on following the dictates of the Spirit.

Pray daily to be guided by the Spirit, and to have an increased sensitivity to His promptings. Ask for help in understanding what the Spirit is telling you. This is vitally important. So often we pray for help, but don’t pray for understanding concerning the how and why of the directives we’re given.

When a particular thought enters your mind repeatedly, don’t say, “Hmm, that’s interesting,” and then go about life as normal. Write the thoughts down, look at them throughout the day, and use your intuitive powers to figure out what you think the Spirit is saying. Once you think you understand, ask for confirmation.

Never ignore a prompting, no matter whether it seems trivial, silly or embarrassing. Recently, I had a nonsensical dream about a friend that had long ago broken off a relationship with me. The dream about her stayed with me during the day, and in keeping with my newfound resolution to heed the Spirit, I decided to visit her. However, deciding to visit and actually doing it was another thing. That friendship had ended on an angry tone. Anxiety and nervousness over how my visit would be received had me pacing the floor. It took half the day to work up the courage to call and arrange it. At my friend’s house, I looked at the carpet, cleared my throat and finally told her about the dream. To my surprise, she seemed to understand what it meant, and although she never gave me an interpretation of it, the incident resulted in reconciliation between us. I’m so grateful I did as the Spirit directed.

When you receive promptings for mundane tasks like, “I’d better pick up that toy lying on the stairs,” you might not see any direct result. Don’t assume that means it wasn’t a whisper from the Holy Ghost. So often we are guided in areas that we deem unimportant, but who can judge the value of a decision that prevents an unseen accident or tragedy?

An author friend of mine, Rachelle Christensen, admits she once received such a prompting but because it came as a quiet whisper and she was busy at the time, she didn’t follow through. While walking through the living room, she saw one of her children’s toys lying on the floor—a small plastic pony. “I noticed it and that should have been enough to pick it up but my hands were full. Later, I was in a hurry and came up with a bottle of applesauce from downstairs and stepped on it just right so that my foot turned over and I fell forward, out of control.” Rachelle not only sprained her ankle, but suffered bruises from the fall.

Remember that all good things come from the Lord. If a thought pops into your mind directing you to do a good deed, don’t waste your time trying to figure out if it was a kindly thought or direction from the Spirit. Instead, just go do it. More often than not, it is guidance you’re receiving.

Another author friend, Nichole Giles, felt a prompting to go outside one hot July afternoon and check on her family’s litter of puppies and their mama. “It was around a hundred degrees outside and I wanted to make sure they had enough shade and water to drink. When I got outside, all the water was gone—the bowls even overturned—and the puppies were lying in every patch of shade they could find and whining because they were so hot. Feeling terrible about their discomfort, I set up a second umbrella (they already had one) and filled their water containers with cool water to drink. As soon as I set them down, those pups and their mother lapped that water up until it was gone, so I refilled it again. While I was out there, I soaked the grass and filled up a low-sided Rubbermaid container so they wouldn't run out again, and so they could jump in it to cool off. Every one of those dogs jumped and played in the water. They'd been cooking in that sunshine. If I hadn't gone out there, the poor dogs might have died from heatstroke.”

From my own experience, I know that following through on the Spirit’s guidance to do a kind deed can often result in being in the right place when another person needs help. One afternoon, while cooking a pot of soup, I received an impression to take some to a friend. You have to understand that in the instant I announce my intention to take someone a meal, the main course will burn, and the dessert will fall flat. I hesitated. Is this really the Holy Ghost speaking to me, or do I have these feelings because I happened to think of Elaine?

I pondered the impression for a few minutes and finally said, “There’s probably nothing wrong with her, but it’s always fun to have someone bring a meal, especially when you’ve had a busy day at work.”

For once, the food turned out right … that in itself should have told me it was a prompting! I drove to Elaine’s house with it and rang the doorbell. Her husband answered the door and ushered me in. There on the couch sat Elaine, pale and weary. Unbeknownst to me, she’d had gall bladder surgery and had just come home from the hospital. The meal was well received and appreciated. Gratitude filled my heart for the whisperings of the Holy Ghost.

If you follow the steps above, I can’t promise that you will always know the right action to take in life. But I can guarantee that you’ll feel an increase in knowledge about the workings of the Spirit, and will become better able to feel and understand His presence.

And isn’t that what we all want?


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Heed the Promptings, Part 1

© Cindy Beck, 2008

(Keywords: Cindy Beck, Holy Ghost, promptings, bike ride, spiritual impressions, Spirit, YourLDSNeighborhood.com)


I’m right-handed—yet there I sat, typing the beginnings of this article by hunt and peck with my left hand. Why? Because I failed to persist in my efforts to understand the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

Many years ago, when my hair contained less gray and my joints didn’t ache so much, I took my toddler son on a bike ride. Biking has always been one of my favorite ways to get exercise, so I strapped him into the child’s seat on the back, and off we went. It was a beautiful day and we enjoyed the sunshine and fresh air. Near the end of the ride, I turned the bike in a circle to head home. There was no warning—just a slip of the tire on a wet spot. The bike flew out from under me and I was flung to the asphalt.

Scrambling to my feet, I rushed to my son. His wide eyes reflected fear, but he had been protected by the plastic seat. The gravel embedded in my knees stung and blood seeped from the cuts, but he didn’t have a scratch. As we started home, I searched my heart to see if I had ignored any promptings from the Spirit. Relief flooded through me as I realized that I was blameless. I hadn’t been forewarned but we had been protected.

Move the clock forward to 2007. Over the summer months, and with increasing frequency, images of that long ago day flashed through my mind.

Odd. What did it mean? I gave the thoughts a casual moment of interest, then brushed them off as if they were dust on a windowsill. My son, Dave, was full-grown, so there was no toddler on the back of the bike. And no reason to worry about taking a spill during the dry, high desert summer days.

In November, fall air and bright sunshine once again beckoned. Jumping on my bike, I whirled away across town, the soft breeze teasing my hair, the pungent scent of fallen leaves tickling my nose. On the way home, a friend called to me and I turned the bike. A narrow strip of the cement in front of me looked wet. For a split second I wondered, in jest, if someone was watering the curb and gutter, trying to make them grow.

I should have made the connection with the recent promptings … but didn’t. As my tire crossed the wet patch, the bike flipped out from under me, and before there was even a chance to get my hands down, I crashed to the ground on my right side. Blood dripped from split skin on my little finger. Worse than that, my right arm really hurt. After being flung to the concrete, though, how could any part of me not hurt? I dusted myself off and my friend took me into her house and spot-cleaned the blood from my clothes.

All the while, my arm ached—a lot. I told myself it was just bruised and battered … and maybe I’d pulled a ligament.

Stepping back outside to head home, I put my hands on the handlebars and used my forearms to balance so I could jump up onto the bike’s seat. A recognizable, dark feeling of intense pain shot through my right arm.

I knew what that meant—a broken bone. After living through a broken nose, a shattered ankle and a snapped wrist in my lifetime, the feeling was all too familiar.

And it was a Friday, just after my doctor’s regular office hours. When my husband arrived home from work half an hour later, we drove to the emergency room. The x-ray revealed the arm/elbow had a break right where the two connected.

It wasn’t hard, standing there in the emergency room, to recognize that the Spirit had been warning me for months. Why hadn’t I listened?

My answer to that now sounds feeble. Every time the Spirit pricked my memory, I didn’t understand the message. Was I being warned to avoid wet spots? Or to quit riding my bike? Was I supposed to do that for a week, a month, a year … or forever? Not knowing, and thinking it was just a coincidence that I remembered the past accident, I had brushed it aside. What I should have done was pondered the impression, reasoned out what I thought it meant and then prayed for confirmation. Had I done that, the broken bone could have been prevented.

Fast forward to eight months later. On a fine summer day in 2008, with the breezes blowing and the birds singing from the tree tops, I climbed on my bike and felt that surge of happiness that comes when riding. After gliding down the driveway, I turned onto the road, and an impression came to me. This bike is getting too old. It’s time to get rid of it and buy a new one.

Aw, no. Get rid of my favorite, teal-colored bike? The one that reminds me of the ocean? The one that carried me on biking adventures with my young son?

I thought for a minute. Maybe the Spirit is just telling me I need to tighten the bolts and get new brakes. I rode a little farther, telling myself it was my own logical thoughts that made me worry and that giving the bike a tune-up would take care of the matter.

The words "metal fatigue" came to mind.

I wanted to bargain. Listen, I’ll tighten everything and put new brakes on. That way it’ll be okay during the summer and I can buy a new one for Christmas.

An image of the bike breaking in two and my body lying crumpled on the ground entered my thoughts. At the same time, the prayer that I’d whispered for guidance and protection that morning floated back to me. Stopped short by the impressions, I chastised myself. What sense did it make to pray for guidance, and then to stand around and argue with the Spirit when He gave me direction? Hadn’t anything been learned from the accident of eight short months ago? What about my vow to listen more closely to promptings given me?

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’d learned the consequences of ignoring the Spirit with the last broken bone, and it wasn’t a lesson I wanted to repeat. Walking would give just as good a workout. I turned the bicycle around and headed home.

Today the sparrows and finches are chirping outside my window. The sweet scent of the linden tree across the street calls a siren song. It would be the perfect day for a bike ride … and in the next week or two, when I get a new bicycle, I’m going to take one.

Until then, the old teal bike will remain parked in the garage. And hopefully, the Spirit will continue to guide, and have patience, with its owner.

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