Beloved

"For God so loved the world" 

I may have mentioned this before, but one of my favorite early church apostles is John the Beloved. Some of it has to do with how sincere his writings are (Matthew writes that one of the disciples cuts off the ear of the high priest's servant [Matthew 26:51], but John blatantly tells us that Simon Peter did it [John 18:10]). A portion of it has to do with how I relate to his title as a 'Son of Thunder' because I also have occasional bursts of frustration and speak with, as some in our Guatemala mission said, 'Chikote.' But I always found it humorous that he always referred to himself as 'the disciple whom Jesus loved.'

That was, until I understood it differently this morning. I can imagine John, alone on the island of Patmos, having received news of the martyrdoms of his brother and friends, after spending years being tossed into pits, prisons, pots of boiling oil, onto pyres, and enduring whatever other murderous attempts on his life. If I had been in his place, I know I would be feeling sorrowful and lonely—I have felt sorrowful and lonely. I have been rejected and persecuted, have had dreams and plans smashed time after time, and have dwelt on an island of sorts. So when I felt at a low this morning and prayed for anything to give me hope, was it any wonder my thoughts turned to John?

And what was it that I reflected on besides his loneliness on Patmos? His nickname: John the Beloved. Why? Because maybe, just maybe, he needed the reminder when he was alone and sorrowing that Jesus loved him. Maybe sometimes he didn't feel like he quite measured up or was important, and referring to himself as 'the disciple Jesus loved' helped him feel that he was enough and that Jesus accepted him despite his earlier zealousness.

I don't know why John referred to himself as 'the disciple Jesus loved,' but after pondering on these things today, I was reminded that I am also beloved. I am Destinee the Beloved because, regardless of what labels and price stickers the world wants to put on me, I am someone who Jesus loves.

At times in our lives, we will feel like we have no one to turn to—that no one wants us around or cares about our opinions. But when those times come, just remember that you are the one whom Jesus loved.

Remembering Unfortunate Events

 Numerous times throughout my life, I've been reminded to accentuate the positive, forget the bad, and hold onto hope for the future. They're all wonderful tenets of advice, but as I've recently read through historical records and journals and watched documentaries, I'm beginning to see that it's necessary not to forget all of the bad. Yes, we need to forgive those who have harmed us, but it doesn't mean we must push our experiences out of our minds. Yes, we should avoid repeating the past, but it doesn't mean we should pretend it never happened.

After all, what would life be like if we never experienced bad things? What would it be like if we forgot that one time we fell off our bicycle, or when that special someone rejected us?

There is a special part of our human minds that avoids pain. It's kind of like the knight in shining armor who would fight the dragons of old just to keep his princess safe. There is nothing wrong with it. However, as I've learned through the years, letting it have full control just turns us into robots. But what if we let it have less control, even a little bit more, not to the point of taking satisfaction in our own pain and suffering, but to allow ourselves to remember our disappointments?

When I first began transcribing my journals, I did not want to read through them. I read about a girl who was bullied, felt unwanted sometimes, and had some extraordinarily difficult days. And reading about those experiences makes me cry for her. Why did she have to walk in self-doubt and inadequacy? Why did she spend days shedding tears in secret? Why did she have to sit alone in sadness while I get to experience joy even in my trials?

It was so I can now experience joy, even in my trials. Her difficult days paved the way for me to now see the good and to see God more.

Why did my ancestors have to cross the plains with early pioneers, fight in wars, or move to Rhode Island to avoid Puritan persecution? It was to grant me a place where I could learn more about Jesus Christ freely (even though some of them did not know their impact at the time). And that's why the sufferings and sorrows of the past are necessary—why we should not forget them. Because without them, we are just mute creatures without a destination and without an origin.

I know that young Destinee would not have chosen those trials for herself, but thank goodness she was willing to endure so that I could be where I am today.

Remembering Through Music

 My thoughts have been jumbled recently as I've mourned the suffering of my brothers and sisters around the world, especially those who have been scorned and rejected by those—even many "Christians"—who claim to have more rights than other people just because they have a paper to declare it so. Any who claim to be Christians should remember that Christ welcomed all, including Matthew the Publican, hated by most Jews for working for their enemies, the Romans; he healed the woman with an issue of blood, who had been rejected and called "unclean," and the lepers whom everyone else feared and would not touch. He opened his arms to the Gentiles, those not of Jewish ancestry, and the Samaritans. So, for any suffering alone or on behalf of another you love, many of our hearts go out to you. Lo sentimos.

As the contentions, wickedness, natural disasters, and heartaches increase, I have sought comfort in both the scriptures and in uplifting music. It is therefore fitting that our Sunday School lesson focused on how music directs our thoughts to Jesus Christ. We were given a challenge to study the hymns we love and learn about them. The first hymn I selected to research is "This is the Christ," written by James E. Faust and Jan Underwood Pinborough and composed by Michael Finlinson Moody.

What I knew about this hymn was that it was about Christ's resurrection, but what I did not realize was that it was Elder Faust's testimony of the Savior's coming to the Americas. How does this give me comfort? I served in Guatemala City, Guatemala, where I received a firm witness that Jesus Christ came to the Americas after His resurrection. I had a powerful, but quiet, personal experience, which I wrote in my mission journal and had pushed into the back of my memory until a couple of weeks ago. That memory emerged at the right time to remind me of what I believe and know, and to testify to me that Jesus is the Christ and is aware of all of us.

"They saw Him come, a man in white, the Savior, who had suffered for their sake. They felt the wounds in hands and side, and each could testify: This is the Christ...

"I read His words, the words He prayed while bearing sorrow in Gethsemane. I feel His love, the price He paid. How many drops of blood were spilled for me? With Saints of old in joyful cry I too can testify: This is the Christ."

He is the Christ, the deliverer and redeemer. Many of us—groups and individuals—will experience some sort of persecution or bondage. But even if the deliverance does not happen now, He will deliver all who put their trust in Him. 

On Track to the Temple

 

The Lindon, Utah Temple is built along the Murdock Canal Trail. Until recently, I only watched the construction's progress whenever I drove past it. And then, I noticed the trail marker.

There's nothing remarkable about the number on the trail marker, but the fact that the trail marker exists beside the temple is a great reminder of everyone's spiritual journey. Not everyone is at the same point on the trail. Some may be at the temple's doors every week. Some are at the three-and-a-quarter-mile marker, in sight of the temple but not quite there. Others are back at the trail's beginnings... which might be at Utah Lake somewhere (For those unfamiliar with the area, that's a long walk).

What matters is that we're on the trail and headed in the right direction. A sincere commitment to covenants takes time. God wants us to make covenants with him, but an accidental mishap in breaking a covenant is a bit more excusable than a heartfelt rebellion. What's even better is to fully prepare ourselves to make those covenants with God in His holy temples and then steadfastly keep to them.

Get on the trail, stick to it, and move forward until you reach the temple.