God had commanded Nephi to build a ship, which his brothers doubted in his ability to do and were unwilling to help with the labor toward such. In verse 51, Nephi profoundly asked them, “[…]if the Lord has such great power, and has wrought so many miracles among the children of men, how is it that he cannot instruct me, that I should build a ship?”
Perhaps we should start questioning ourselves similarly when we come upon life’s various happenings.
If the Lord has such great power, and has wrought so many miracles among the children of men, how is it that He cannot strengthen me, that I should withstand this trial? How is it that He cannot guide me, that I should find what I am seeking? How is it that He cannot heal my heart, that I might love once more?Knowing the power of God, one answer we can turn to for every inquiry comes from Philippians 4:13 – “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.”
1 Nephi 3:7 offers another answer we can draw strength from - Nephi testified that “[…]the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.”
Reyna I. Aburto, Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, spoke in October 2019 General Conference (find her talk HERE). She discussed struggles that are very real for many people (more than most realize), life circumstances which bring folks to the edge of their tolerance limits, and how the refiner’s fire has great potential to make us better people. Addressing those of us who are struggling or supporting someone who is struggling, Sister Aburto reminded us that we need to have The Spirit with us always, and in order to ensure that, we need to follow God’s commandments. She echoes something I touched on in an earlier blog post, that it’s the small and simple things we do “that will give us spiritual strength.”
Sister Aburto then addressed the fact that Christ came here to earth in a mortal state and took upon himself every ailment, burden, challenge, trial, pain, loss, etc. that all humankind had and would be faced with. He did this so that He could know and understand how to help, comfort, heal, and guide us through this mortal experience. This very topic is something that I was again reminded of recently by the instructor of my religion course this semester, Brother Jeffrey Coleman (highly recommended if you’re taking online classes through BYU-Idaho).
Brother Coleman shared a passage with me from a book I read years ago by Chieko N. Okazaki called, “Lighten Up! Finding Real Joy in Life” (p. 175). The message shared was wonderfully timed and really hit home for me, much like Sister Aburto’s talk referenced earlier did. As a conclusion to this blog post and a point of thought for all who pass through (I refuse to distract from the gem below by writing anything further), here is what Sister Okazaki wrote:
We know that on some level Jesus experienced the totality of mortal existence in Gethsemane. It’s our faith that he experienced everything—absolutely everything. Sometimes we don’t think through the implications of that belief. We talk in great generalities about the sins of all humankind, about the suffering of the entire human family. But we don’t experience pain in generalities. We experience it individually. That means Jesus knows what it felt like when your mother died of cancer—how it was for your mother, how it still is for you. He knows what it felt like to lose the student-body election. He knows that moment when the brakes locked, and the car started to skid. He experienced the slave ship sailing from Ghana toward Virginia. He experienced the gas chambers at Dachau. He experienced napalm in Vietnam. He knows about drug addiction and alcoholism.
There is nothing you have experienced as a woman that he does not also know and recognize. On a profound level, he understands about pregnancy and giving birth. He knows about PMS and cramps and menopause. He understands about rape and infertility and abortion.
His last recorded words to his disciples were, “And, lo, I am with you always even unto the end of the world.” (Matthew 28:20) What does that mean? It means he understands your mother-pain when your five-year-old leaves for kindergarten, when a bully picks on your fifth-grader, when your daughter calls to say that the new baby has Down’s syndrome. He knows your mother-rage when a trusted babysitter sexually abuses your two-year-old, when someone gives your thirteen-year-old drugs, when someone seduces your seventeen-year-old. He knows the pain you live with when you come home to a quiet apartment where the only children who ever come are visitors, when you hear that your former husband and his new wife were sealed in the temple last week, when your fiftieth wedding anniversary rolls around and your husband has been dead for two years. He knows all that. He’s been there. He’s been lower than all that.
He’s not waiting for us to be perfect. Perfect people don’t need a Savior. He came to save us in our imperfections. He is the Lord of the living, and the living make mistakes. He’s not embarrassed by us, angry at us or shocked. He wants us in our brokenness, in our unhappiness, in our guilt and our grief.
