There’s a bumper sticker out there somewhere that says this. When my sister saw it, she called to laugh about how much it reminded her of me. I nervously played along, secretly thinking, “Oh my gosh, that bumper sticker is SO TRUE!” I am much better than I used to be, but fear is something that I grapple with. I try to be reasonable about it, but as soon as I start to relax some adorable 6-year-old child is murdered in her basement the day after Christmas, a teenager disappears on her Senior class trip, or a sleeping youngster is taken from her hotel bedroom.
A few weeks ago on a Saturday morning we went out to breakfast and Cory ordered an omelet. In light of the recent tomato scare, the waitress asked, “Now, that normally comes with a tomato slice on top, would you like us to leave it off?” Cory waffled back and forth before declaring with authority, “Put the tomato on. I’m not going to live in fear.” I was supportive, backing him up with, “Better to live in fear than die of food poisoning over a slice of tomato, particularly when we are about to increase our mortgage payment and you are the only one with a sustainable income in the family, but whatever.” Or something like that.
He ate the tomato. I honestly wasn’t worried about it, but I thought about what he said for the next several days, because his definitive resolve impressed me. “I’m not going to live in fear.”
Howard W. Hunter was a prophet for a brief period of 9 months, which overlapped with my time as a college student. One evening he was speaking at a BYU devotional in the Marriott Center when a man stormed the stage with a briefcase that he claimed held explosives, and threatened to use them unless the prophet read this man’s prepared statement. Hunter refused, the man was ultimately restrained, and the matter was settled without anyone, including the thousands of students in attendance, being harmed. I was not in attendance that night, but by all accounts President Hunter remained extraordinarily calm throughout the ordeal and later reported that he felt no fear during the incident. A man was standing forcefully at his side, threatening to kill him and thousands of others if he didn’t do what he said, and he wasn’t afraid?! I can’t even sleep with my windows open!
I’m in awe of that reaction. I take comfort in the fact that it’s possible to be that calm in the middle of chaos, to not feel fear. Is it because he was a prophet? Because he was so confident in his standing with God that he wasn’t scared? Or was it because he had total faith that however the situation panned out, everything would be okay? Could it be that because he was old and had a good life he didn’t mind so much the thought of returning to loved ones already passed on? I don’t know, I can’t speak for him. But whatever it was, I want a piece of that action.
The first effect Adam felt after his transgression was fear. Perhaps in Adam’s case it was more a consequence of sin, but isn’t it also a condition of mortality? Conditional, I guess, upon the trust or faith that we have in our Heavenly Father and in Jesus Christ. Do we really believe that they will do what they say they’re going to do? Sometimes the healing seems impossible. For example, I can’t imagine how it would feel to be Jon Benet Ramsey’s parents, to not only suffer the violent loss of their child but to be suspects of the filthy act. Last week, though Patsy Ramsey was not alive to witness it, Jon Benet’s parents were finally exonerated after being under an umbrella of suspicion for over a decade. Is there any healing in that for them? Their daughter still isn’t here, the perpetrator is still somewhere on the loose, how in the world do they find peace? Can the heart that loses a child, struggles with addiction, survives a violent act, watches their children make horrible choices, or endures daily health battles really be mended?
In case you sometimes frantically find yourself wondering similar thoughts, let me share a portion of this talk by Richard C. Edgley that I regularly refer to - it often calms me down when I get a little crazy. He said:
I believe we all understood that by coming to earth, we would be exposed to all of the experiences of earth life, including the not-so-pleasant trials of pain, suffering, hopelessness, sin, and death. There would be opposition and adversity. And if that was all we knew about the plan, I doubt if any of us would have embraced it, rejoicing, “That’s what I have always wanted—pain, suffering, hopelessness, sin, and death.” But it all came into focus, and it became acceptable, even desirable, when an Elder Brother stepped forward and offered that He would go down and make it all right. Out of pain and suffering He would bring peace. Out of hopelessness He would bring hope. Out of transgression He would bring repentance and forgiveness. Out of death He would bring the resurrection of lives. And with that explanation and most generous offer, each and every one of us concluded, “I can do that. That is a risk worth taking.” And so we chose.
I love this. When he describes that moment of an Elder Brother stepping forward and offering to “make it all right”, a relief alarm goes off in my head. I try to picture Him, and for some reason I feel like I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor looking up. I am smiling. I believe Him.
And so I chose.
And so I will trust.
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