Two weeks ago, I found myself in the auditorium of Cottonwood High School in Salt Lake City, preparing to take in a musical and vocal performance of The Lamb of God. I was in the midst of my yearly pilgrimage to SLC to visit Mike and Jason and had the good fortune to time my trip to catch Jason's performance in this powerful event. When I told him a month or two earlier that I was thinking of coming to Utah, he encouraged me to target the weekend of the performance, as he was confident I would love the music. Little did he know just how much I needed this opportunity and how it would impact me...or perhaps he did. Either way, I took his advice and planned the trip around the performance. I've had the good fortune over the years to be a part of some amazing musical groups and performances and I have a tender relationship with spiritual music. I remember when Elder Gene R. Cook spoke to our mission and taught us how to invite the Spirit in to our conversations with others. He listed things like prayer, reading from the scriptures, even offering sincere thanks and appreciation, all of which certainly have the power to invite the Holy Ghost and all of which have played significant roles in my life. But the one he noted that has always had the greatest impact on me is spiritual music. I've always been drawn toward powerful music and I've found that it alone has the ability to pierce my often hard heart and pull me toward divinity. Perhaps it was my previous positive experiences with choirs and musical performances or maybe it was just the Spirit offering a sign of things to come, but as the day of the Lamb of God performance neared I found myself looking forward to 2 pm on Saturday afternoon with a degree of spiritual anticipation I had rarely experienced. I even felt an urge to pray about the experience I would have, feeling somehow that I was meant not only to be there and hear this message but that it would have a meaningful and lasting impact on me.
Perhaps I should go back even further. As long as I can remember, I have believed in Christ. I have been blessed to understand and believe the truths I have been taught and to have a desire to follow these truths. The challenge for me, as I'm sure it is for others, has always been to follow through on these beliefs and desires and use my agency for good. My battle with addictions began before I donned my high school graduation robe. Of course I had no idea of the severity of the battle I was facing at that time and the devastating toll it would take on my life and the lives of those who are most dear to me; in fact, more than 15 years would pass before I would finally admit to myself that I was powerless to overcome these challenges alone. The journey began on New Year's Day of my senior year of high school, when I decided that I could no longer live with the all-consuming guilt and sadness of sin and transgression. I resolved to call my Bishop and opened my heart to the possibility that forgiveness might be possible, even for me. The experience was one to be forgotten; I left feeling emptier and worse about myself than I did on entry and my broken heart built a terrible wall of anger and pride that would take years to knock down. The next few months were filled with friends, graduation, EFY, Youth Conference, and before I knew it I was off to BYU in the fall, having "repented" without seeking forgiveness.
One of the true devastations of addiction is the addict's reduced or altogether negated ability to choose and to follow the silent promptings of the Spirit. My experience at BYU was full of amazing, uplifting experiences, good friends, and fantastic examples. Unfortunately, these were overshadowed by deepening bouts of addictive behavior that limited my willingness to make good choices and hold to the rod. By the time I left on my mission, I had lied my way through interviews and convinced others I was good to go; of course, I knew otherwise. My time in the MTC was good but by the time I finished my first two months in Germany, I found myself in the depths of depression, an addict longing for the freedom of testimony and conversion but bound by the chains of slavery. Satan powerfully tugged on these chains, convincing me that I had nothing to offer to the people of Germany, and I made the decision to come home from my mission. I wished my companion well and boarded a train for Munich alone, the heavy burden of failure crushing my spirit during the four hour trip from Aalen. But the Lord had other plans. President Scholz gave me a blessing and sent me back to my companion, paving the way for the rest of my mission. I'm so thankful the Lord saw fit to give me this opportunity, as I know I would not have been able to withstand the consequences of my subsequent decisions without the experiences I had those two years in Germany. I'm sure He knew that as well.
Sadly, it didn't take long after my return home for the suffocating grip of addiction to overpower my life again, and by the time I had been home for only a year, I had gotten married, divorced, excommunicated, kicked out of BYU, and fired from my job teaching at the MTC. I consider this dark time in my life as my first trip to "Rock Bottom," a place I hoped to never visit again but sadly would. I felt the walls thicken around my heart as everything I knew and cared about was stripped from my life as a result of my own decisions. Embarrassed, ashamed, and defeated don't begin to describe the torment of emotion racking my soul, and I became convinced that God would never again listen to my prayers of repentance or sorrow. How could He? I had prayed for forgiveness so many times, promising to change, committing to begin anew, yet each time turning back to my addictions and their despair. Surely my pleas would fall on deaf ears. But He was there.
That was nearly 15 years ago. In the time that has passed, blessings have flowed freely. I got baptized, married, graduated from college and added another degree, moved many times for work and grad school, adopted four beautiful children...the list is too long to recount. But the battle with addictions continued as I made my way toward trip #2 to "Rock Bottom." As I examined my life, the time I had wasted, the blessings I was foregoing, and the fraud I had become, I realized that my only hope of a life beyond this one with my family was to turn to Christ and apply His Atonement. Finally, I decided it was over. For the first time in my life, I admitted that I am an addict. I admitted that I am, indeed, powerless to overcome my addiction without His intervention. I joined the LDS Addiction Recovery Program, began seeing a counselor, and moved to a new location for a job that allows me to spend more time with my family. More importantly, I began an earnest search of the scriptures and opened a dialog with Heavenly Father, one that has re-kindled the flame of a relationship that was cold for far too many years. I have wept bitterly for the time that was wasted, the trust that was shattered, the hope that was defeated. I have cried for forgiveness, begged for mercy, and sought solace for a soul that for so long has been racked with guilt and humiliation. I have "wrestled with God in mighty prayer" as did Enos, asking for a remission of my sins and for the peace I hoped would accompany forgiveness. It was in this spirit of contriteness and hope that I became aware, through Jason, of The Lamb of God.
On Saturday, March 29 2014, the hour finally arrived and Mike and I took our seats in the auditorium. Before the music even started, the Spirit washed over my entire being, filling my eyes with tears. As I heard the deep strings and the introductory bells of "Thou Hope and Deliverer," I became aware that something was happening inside of me, something that mattered and would change me for good. For the next couple hours, I found myself taken back to the last week of Jesus' earthly life. I imagined that I was there, that I was alive and observing it all. I found myself in the shoes of Peter, John, and Thomas, the apostles who are represented in The Lamb of God. I marveled at the insight I gained in to the thoughts and hearts of the ordinary men and women who were offered an extraordinary opportunity to spend a few days, months, or years with the Savior of the World. Most significantly, I sat and wept as the reality of His atonement, portrayed so powerfully by the haunting tones of the solo cello, penetrated my soul to a depth I have never before experienced. I wept as the stifling price that was paid for sin was all at once made so very clear. Every painful mistake I have made along my stumble through life was brought to my attention - the bitter pains I have felt, the deeper pains I have caused those who are closest to me, and the deepest pains I have inflicted on the Man who suffered for each and every transgression on my lengthy list.
And then they were gone. Not just pushed aside. Not just hidden for a time, only to rear their ugly head again and again. Gone. In a miracle only possible through divine intervention and suffering beyond our human comprehension, my sins were forgiven. Prayer after heartfelt prayer, dedicated study, sincere confession, and a true change of heart weren't enough. They were absolutely necessary, entirely requisite...yet insufficient. It took His infinite sacrifice, His consuming agony, and the voluntary submission of His life for my sins to be paid in full - but they were paid, in full.
I've spent many sleepless hours asking why. Why did I have to face these terrible trials in my life? Why, among all of the challenges to face, the burdens to carry, did I have to struggle with those so self-defeating, so deadly to my self-worth and confidence, and so painful to the people who love me? I've spent hours with counselors, friends, family members, and total strangers-turned friends in my Addiction Recovery class, trying to understand the why behind all of this. All of the tears, the heartache, the deep sadness I've felt and caused. I've wanted so badly to understand why. Especially in the darkest of times, so many questions have run through my mind. Is something wrong with me? Am I defective? Maybe God punished me and took away my ability to have children. Maybe there actually is no hope for me. Maybe my chances of salvation, of being with my family beyond this mortal life, of ever emerging victorious over my deep flaws in character, have passed. Even after sincere and heartfelt confessions and contrite prayers of repentance, I've doubted that I could be forgiven. Doubted that I could ever truly change.
And then, toward the end of The Lamb of God, I heard my brother in doubt, Thomas, sing this (track # 16 on the CD The Lamb of God):
Not now, but in the coming years,
It may not be when we demand,
We’ll read the meaning of our tears,
And there, sometime, we’ll understand
Why what we long for most of all
Eludes our open, pleading hand;
Why ever silence meets our call
Somewhere, sometime, we’ll understand.
It may not be when we demand,
We’ll read the meaning of our tears,
And there, sometime, we’ll understand
Why what we long for most of all
Eludes our open, pleading hand;
Why ever silence meets our call
Somewhere, sometime, we’ll understand.
So trust in God through all thy days;
Fear not, for He doth hold thy hand;
Though dark thy way, still sing and praise,
Sometime, sometime we’ll understand.
Sometime we’ll fall on bended knee,
And feel there, graven on His hand;
Sometime with tearless eyes we’ll see
What here, we could not understand.
So trust in God through all thy days;
Fear not, for He doth hold thy hand;
Though dark thy way, still sing and praise,
Sometime, sometime we’ll understand.
The Lamb of God has so many messages to share and I'm sure that each of you who listens to it will take away something unique, something meant for you. My hope is that it causes you to reflect on the absolute miracle that is the Atonement of Jesus Christ. My hope is that each of us will take full advantage of this miracle and summon the courage of Peter to repent of our errors and change our hearts, no matter the cost, so that we may know the peace and joy that accompany forgiveness. My testimony is that He lives. As I sat in that audience on a chilly Saturday afternoon in Salt Lake City and listened to the testimonies of those who knew our Savior, the reality of those events was confirmed to my spirit with absolute, undeniable clarity and power. He actually lived on this earth. He showed the way, marked the path, illuminated the night. He drank what surely was the bitterest of all cups, and he drank it voluntarily and willingly, fully aware of His role in the Plan and the criticality of His submission. He drank it for you and for me. And as suredly as He suffered and died, He rose again. He rose to add victory to sure defeat. He rose, and we will live again.
He who healed our sorrows
Here was bruised and broken.
He whose love no end knows
Here was forsaken,
Left all alone.
Here despair cries boldly,
Claiming this its vict'ry.
Sweeter peace enfolds me:
Hope did not die here,
But here was given.
Here is Hope.
He who was rejected,
He knows well my longing
He, so long expected
Carried our burdens,
Bore ev'ry sorrow:
Here is Hope!
("Here is Hope," Mary the Mother of Jesus)
Life is still hard. People lose loved ones. Trust is violated, dishonesty abounds, selfishness and greed rule, and sin and error engulf our society at ever-increasing speeds. I still wake up every morning and face the same challenges, the same trials and temptations, and the same flaws of character. But we don't have to face these things alone. However deep the grief, however devastating the anguish, however powerful the temptation, He is there. He who is "acquainted with grief, has carried our sorrows, was wounded for our transgressions...He is there. And with His stripes, we are healed.
He has declared,
He is Messiah!
Yes, I know, and I believe
That this is He!
("This is He," Peter, John, and Thomas)
