Report Draft H: Further Invitations

Sharing and following up with others could be the most critical part of this project. Sharing was done in a wide variety of mediums, all of which brought an array of reactions and responses from the public.  

As a result of sharing our personal essays with friends, family, non-members, or distant acquaintances, it allowed for further invitations to be extended; such as rekindling a friendship, exploring more LDS content, having face to face interactions, and ultimately reading the Book of Mormon.

One of the main successes of this project is that it has sparked a family’s desire to share their experiences and beliefs on a blog. Taylor, and his family are now going to be contributing to a family blog to share with others, so the invitations to kindle relationships and gospel knowledge will be further extended.

Another success story is that, Keegan, a student, reconnected with his high school teacher by initiating conversation; he informed him of what has happened in his life these past few years. By providing a small background of his life updates such as serving a mission and getting engaged, it allowed for him to share with his teacher about his mission experiences which he might not have had the opportunity otherwise. The teacher responded immediately with great appreciation--which spurred an invitation to reconnect face to face. This could lead to further and more missionary opportunities.

These essays were a powerful outlet for many students to springboard further invitations with those they shared content with. Because of this, we can see how effective personal Mormon literature can be within circles of friendship -- with hopes that it’ll continue to spread virally to be an effective missionary tool amongst the public.

Emily Lewis, Lizzy Sainsbury, Ryan Parker

Share Bears

As much as I was hesitant to share my essay with anyone outside of...this class, I found the results to be positive enough to make the experience worth it--even if the results were limited.

I first shared it with the actual Elder Clark from the story (who's name was changed). He said he appreciated me sharing it with him and he thought it was a good essay, but he asked that I not post it on Facebook publicly or share it with anyone who doesn't already know the story. I told him the whole class had already read it and he was fine with that but he was afraid others might connect the dots and find out who it was. There's members of his own family that don't know anything about it

Heeding that advice, I shared it only with people who knew about the experience, which ended up being narrowed down to my family and the mission president from the story. I send it to my parents who sent me an email back telling me they liked it and wondered why I hadn't told them more about it sooner. They didn't realize how dragged down I was during the experience, which made me a little sad knowing that I had a period of great stress but I never bothered to tell anyone about it.

I also sent it to my old mission president yesterday but haven't heard back yet.

So it wasn't the most fruitful sharing experience but I think it made a difference with those that count.

Elephant in the Front Yard

Sometimes there's only one person who can unload your burdens--yourself.

Oh, it smelled good. Tyler opened the grill hatch, the smoke wisping around his heavily-tattooed arm. 

It Can Be Fun

1. Mission friend: The missionary known as "Elder Clark" might find my personal essay of interest. I've shared with him before how I handled the situation we were in but he may find more insight into how it's affected my life ever since. I would share it with him through email, since he's not very active on any social media.

2. My mission president: I've also told him several times about my experience during the situation, but I think I would certainly like to share it with him through the context of just how important and impactful he was to me at that specific time (not to mention the rest of my mission). I would probably have to email it to him.

3. My girlfriend: I'll share my video about Darren's essay and the essay itself, as its themes of friendship would resonant strongly with her. She values friendships a great deal, sometimes longer than I would expect a sane person to do so. She would probably find a lot to like in Darren's description of his friendship with Brother Miller.

4. Twitter: Everyone that I feel would appreciate the story and not just ignore it, are on Twitter, so I would probably post it on there for whatever followers I have that would be interested.

5. Sister: I wasn't as open about the situation with my family, or at least about my actual feelings during it, so I feel like they would really learn a lot about me through it. My sister lives closer so I could more easily share it with her face-to-face.

6. Parents: Again, they really don't know very much about how I was affected by the incident personally, so this may be something they would really want to read, and not just read it because I'm their son.

The Trap

In non-fictional form, many may find it difficult to just let it all out. Imagine sitting down with a stranger--or even a friend--and having them dish out their deepest fears and regrets. You'd eventually think less about how you can relate, and more about how this person's got some serious problems. When we sit down to share our real-life stories--as we've done in our personal essays--honesty is something we might dance around or only brush up against when convenient.

In the can-do, never-faltered, keep-it-on-the-down-low culture of Mormon member life, many of us find it difficult to take our deepest thoughts and slap them on a table for all to see. Some don't struggle with this, and have no problem sharing their transgressions to anyone who will listen, but for many it becomes a struggle--or a trap even--between being real and being not seen as less of a member.

When considering fictional writing, honesty can take any form. It can be an antagonist who bears striking resemblance to your horrific 4th grade teacher who was terrible and awful and is the direct cause of any educational problem you've had since. For Douglas Thayer, it appears to be taking the form of inner monologue. Kyle waxes on about his thoughts, flowing in and out of memories and ideas that have clearly been hand-picked by Thayer for different purposes.

Stream of consciousness writing, as found in The Catcher in the Rye and Ulysses, is an easy and effective way to be honest with your audience, or at least let your character be honest with them. I don't imagine Kyle is Douglas Thayer and that he's just barfing out his own life story through another character, so he's most likely using Kyle to be honest about his own personal thoughts and about what he thinks teenage boys think about. Doing this in the non-fiction form would be very difficult.

By avoiding the nasty trap of how much honesty is too much honesty, writers can use fiction to breach any number of topics with greater efficiency.

Checkmate Essay Teaser

I did a video about Darren Torrie's essay titled "Checkmate." I decided to incorporate the Book of Mormon to allow the comparison to be made between the essay and the story of the Sons of Mosiah.

Here it is.

In the Details

I was hesitant to share my personal essay with my girlfriend, Jessica, knowing that she was much more familiar with the actual story of the essay than most of the people who read it would. She's met Elder Clark and the Moore family and the mission president (all names having been changed for the story) and she's heard about as much as I could share with her about the experience.

Despite all that, she still found the essay educational about me and my experience with the event.

She felt that the little details of the essay, the way each character spoke, and the visualizations of the front yard and the wheat field really took her there and helped her understand even more about how I handled the situation. She could feel my sadness just through the way it was described.

She noted that I didn't go into detail about the event but understood why since she knows that the event is a sensitive and personal and probably doesn't belong on an internet blog in any more detail than I've given. She also wondered about the Book of Mormon reference and how it might need to be connected more to the rest of the essay instead of just a singular reference.

I probably could've found someone to read this who was more removed from the event and those who were affected by it, but I felt that having someone who did know about it would help me know if I was doing it justice or leaving out too much detail. Despite Jessica's likely biased opinion, I feel that I've done a good enough job of accomplishing that. 

Elephant in the Front Yard (revised)

Oh, it smelled good. Tyler opened the grill hatch, the smoke wisping around his heavily-tattooed arm. Pork, beef, chicken, shrimp--a regular petting zoo getting cooked right in front of me. As a missionary I had gained a strong appetite, something I had lacked for much of my adolescence. Just 2 months earlier in fact, aided by a prescribed regular dosage of corticosteroids, I could down more food than my formerly 300-pound missionary companion. Considering my 150 pound frame, this was an accomplishment. 

Watching that searing cooked meat that day? I knew I wouldn't have any. I wasn't hungry. I hadn't been hungry. I began to wonder if I'd ever be hungry again.

Our mission president arrives with his wife, both dressed in black. They hug, shake hands, comment on the cooking food. They smile and show genuine enthusiasm for being able to see me and my two companions, Elder Clark and Elder Blair, and to finally meet the family (the Moores) that had kept us sane the last five days. Our mission president's wife, perhaps a little less likely to stay composed in situations like this than her husband, shows signs of losing said composure at the sight of Elder Clark. I look away, afraid to fall down that hole with her. 

Conversation remains light. Jokes are made, laughs are had, everyone doing their best to avoid the house-sized elephant in the room (or the front yard, in this case). And why wouldn't they avoid it? Elder Clark needed every opportunity to get things off his mind, and this BBQ was the perfect chance to do that. It's funny, then, that he was the first to address it.

"How was it?" he asked.

"It was really great." my mission president said, volunteering to take on the difficult task of describing the funeral. "The gym held 600 people and it was packed full. Just a wonderful celebration of his life."

You don't hear many funerals described as "great" but I was beyond relieved to hear that this one was. 

"Good, good." Elder Clark said. "Who's ready to eat?"

I'm reminded again of my lack of appetite. Was I taking things too hard? Elder Clark was grabbing a plate, piling it with meats. Why couldn't I stomach the thought of doing the same?

Our mission president takes Elder Clark into the house for an interview, plate full of food. I could only imagine what they would talk about. Things had improved since last Tuesday, but only as time tried to push the event further and further from our memories. But the uncertainty surrounding us was far too great for us to move on, and the memory of the event was mercilessly vivid in Elder Clark's mind. I could hear him at night. I could hear him waking up, gasping for air. I sit still, paralyzed by my perceived inability to comfort him.

"Elder Parker, wanna go for a walk?" my mission president said, emerging from the house with Elder Clark. Neither one had touched their food, it appeared. Elder Clark seemed well, content, maybe even happy. 

My mission president and I walk around the farm, along the recently harvested wheat. He asks me how I'm doing, how the counseling's been going. I tell him I've been better but I'm happy Elder Clark's been doing so well. He agrees. 

"How do I help him?" I ask. "I'm never sure what to say or whether or not we should even talk about it. I just don't feel helpful at all."

"I don't think he would agree with that."

A feeling of relief washes over me. I don't realize it right away, but this is exactly what I need to hear.

All this time I figured things were just out of my control and I couldn't do anything right and all the choices I had made up to that point were in vain. In some ways I felt like Nephi, as his family sailed the ship he had asked them to make across the ocean to the promised land. As things looked dire and hope seemed lost, he had reason to think the whole weight of the situation rested on his shoulders. But it wasn't, and he knew that. Even as his brothers had him bound and restrained and eventually released, he praised his God and didn't wallow in his misfortune.

Perhaps I should simply release myself from the bondage I was creating.

We walked back to the BBQ.  Elder Blair, oblivious as ever, was explaining to Tyler the proper way to grill a chicken breast. The mission president's wife talks with the mother of the Moore family about the two kids they have back home. Elder Clark was joking with the father of the Moore family about something crazy he did in high school. 

I take a bite out of a tender piece of grilled chicken. My body welcomes it.

No more elephants in the front yard. 

Elephant in the Front Yard

Oh, it smelled good. Tyler opened the grill hatch, the smoke wisping around his heavily-tattooed arm. Pork, beef, chicken, shrimp--a regular petting zoo getting cooked right in front of me. As a missionary I had gained a strong appetite, something I had lacked for much of my adolescence. Just 2 months earlier in fact, aided by a prescribed regular dosage of corticosteroids, I could down more food than my formerly 300-pound missionary companion. Considering my 150 pound frame, this was an accomplishment. 

Watching that searing cooked meat that day? I knew I wouldn't have any. I wasn't hungry. I hadn't been hungry. I began to wonder if I'd ever be hungry again.

Our mission president arrives with his wife, both dressed in black. They hug, shake hands, comment on the cooking food. They smile and show genuine enthusiasm for being able to see me and my two companions, Elder Clark and Elder Blair, and to finally meet the family (the Moores) that had kept us sane the last five days. Our mission president's wife, perhaps a little less likely to stay composed in situations like this than her husband, shows signs of losing said composure at the sight of Elder Clark. I look away, afraid to fall down that hole with her. 

Conversation remains light. Jokes are made, laughs are had, everyone doing their best to avoid the house-sized elephant in the room (or the front yard, in this case). And why wouldn't they avoid it? Elder Clark needed every opportunity to get things off his mind, and this BBQ was the perfect chance to do that. It's funny, then, that he was the first to address it.

"How was it?" he asked.

"It was really great." my mission president said, volunteering to take on the difficult task of describing the funeral. "The gym held 600 people and it was packed full. Just a wonderful celebration of his life."

You don't hear many funerals described as "great" but I was beyond relieved to hear that this one was. 

"Good, good." Elder Clark said. "Who's ready to eat?"

I'm reminded again of my lack of appetite. Was I taking things too hard? Elder Clark was grabbing a plate, piling it with meats. Why couldn't I stomach the thought of doing the same?

Our mission president takes Elder Clark into the house for an interview, plate full of food. I could only imagine what they would talk about. Things had improved since last Tuesday, but only as time tried to push the event further and further from our memories. But the uncertainty surrounding us was far too great for us to move on, and the memory of the event was mercilessly vivid in Elder Clark's mind. I could hear him at night. I could hear him waking up, gasping for air. I sit still, paralyzed by my perceived inability to comfort him.

"Elder Parker, wanna go for a walk?" my mission president said, emerging from the house with Elder Clark. Neither one had touched their food, it appeared. Elder Clark seemed well, content, maybe even happy. 

My mission president and I walk around the farm, along the recently harvested wheat. He asks me how I'm doing, how the counseling's been going. I tell him I've been better but I'm happy Elder Clark's been doing so well. He agrees. 

"How do I help him?" I ask. "I'm never sure what to say or whether or not we should even talk about it. I just don't feel helpful at all."

"I don't think he would agree with that."

A feeling of relief washes over me. I don't realize it right away, but this is exactly what I need to hear.

"I know you're dealing with a lot too," my mission president continued, "so I'll tell you exactly what I told him." 

I prided myself on not showing how stressed I was. I hoped no one would notice, but he knew it right away. 

"When the Savior says he'll take upon him all infirmities, he means ALL infirmities."

In all the time I had spent worrying about what was to come next, what would happen with Elder Clark, what would happen to missionary work in the area, I hadn't taken thought for how to actually heal myself. I reasoned that it wouldn't happen until months from now, when the whole ordeal was hopefully behind us. I was content to let time take care of it.

We walked back to the BBQ.  Elder Blair, oblivious as ever, was explaining to Tyler the proper way to grill a chicken breast. The mission president's wife talks with the mother of the Moore family about the two kids they have back home. Elder Clark was joking with the father of the Moore family about something crazy he did in high school. 

I take a bite out of a tender piece of grilled chicken. My body welcomes it.

No more elephants in the front yard. 

A Nu Start

"I can't wait to get off the mission and grow out a sick beard," he said, stroking his chin.

"But you don't really have any, you know, facial hair."

"No no, you just can't see it cause it's blonde," he argued, as I stared at his black, slicked, wavy hair. "Have you ever heard of a blonde beard?" he shared, with a tone of voice suggesting I was painfully ignorant on this long blonde journey known as life.

"No, I can see it alright, and I can probably count the hairs on your face on two hands."

"Whatever. You don't have nearly as much facial hair as other elders, you know. Elder Kent has way more than you."

"Cool."

This was typical car ride dialogue. Along with the time he ate a foot-long Subway sandwich in a minute. Or the time he picked the big security lock to his high school with only a credit card. Or when he benched 380. Or how he hates to write but he's had like 5 teachers tell him he's an amazing writer--a conversation usually started after I state my own intention to be a writer someday.

For this elder, the chance to go on a mission wasn't just the opportunity to forget yourself and serve others, but also the chance to forget your prior self and replace it with something better. With manufactured humility, he pulls out his Preach My Gospel, turns it to the front page where his list of baptisms are, and shares it with our investigators, showing that they too can join the list if they merely keep commitments. Inspired.

Yes, inspired. So inspired. Much like my mission president and his wife. And the mission president and wife of my Elders Quorum President. And the mission president and wife of our Elders Quorum Instructor. In fact, I'd wager that every mission president and their wife of every proudly proud returned missionary was so inspired, and so humble, and so amazing.

We love our mission presidents. We all do. It's why we collectively, internally "guffaw" whenever someone tells us their mission president was so amazing. We subconsciously arm ourselves with ammo to defend our own president, at the ready in case someone like, brings it up. Much like my missionary companion described above, they display their accomplishments for all to see--and when I say "their" accomplishments, I mean their mission president's.

"He knew so much about the scriptures."
"He just threw it down in meetings."
"He was a GA before he was mission president. So, you know."
"He was worth, like, 5 million dollars."
"He could read minds. Seriously."

To all mission presidents, everywhere:

"So inspired..."

Do Not Procrastinate

1  In my lap: my scriptures, opened to Alma chapter 34. Next to me: my missionary companion, Elder Gregg. Across from me: the 70 year-old non-member husband of an active LDS church member, Jim. Listening, to the side, is Jim's wife, and another church member who accompanied us. My companion soldiers on, asking Jim some probing questions about baptism. We had previously been discussing baptism and how it's necessary for salvation. He disagreed, feeling that he had already been doing pretty well in life saw no need to do change anything about it now. This prompted Alma 34.

" I beseech of you that ye do not procrastinate the day of your repentance until the end; for after this day of life, which is given us to prepare for eternity, behold, if we do not improve our time while in this life, then cometh the night of darkness wherein there can be no labor performed."

This made logical sense. He doesn't think he needs to repent and change, and here's a scripture saying just the opposite. If I'm being prompted by the Spirit, and I share it with the Spirit, this just might be what he needs. So why aren't I sharing it? I see Jim looking back at us. 70 years of experience to my 21. 70 years of hard work, heartache, joy, accomplishment--he had fathered and grandfathered a wonderful family, whose pictures were displayed all around us. 70 years of making good decisions and seeing the fruits of them. Who am I to tell him he must change? Something's holding me back. Jim was a stubborn man. In our last visit his wife told him his baptism was nothing but a warm bath. He didn't take that too well. I don't imagine he'll respond any better to being told he's about to die and should probably consider making some changes. Maybe the Spirit's telling me now that I shouldn't share that scripture?

My companion notices my scriptures open and gives me a look, as if to say "you have something to share?"

I don't.

I close my scriptures.

I'll never know what would've happened had I shared it. Maybe nothing. Maybe he would've just brushed it off. Maybe he would've felt it was true. I don't know. But something about it didn't feel right that time, and that's all I can conclude it with.

2  The Savior said it best:

"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

Up until that moment I hadn't considered what this scripture should mean for me. Up until that point I could talk your ear off when it came to film or sports. I was passionate about those things. I had just talked at length to a nice lady about both of those things, based on her similar passion for them.

But faith? Repentance? I couldn't give nearly as much lip service to them as anything else I had said that day. For so long I had let the church become less than a passion. I did not treasure it the same way I did sports and film. I should be able to speak volumes about gospel topics and what they've meant to me. But I couldn't, and he knew that. That's why he shared that scripture.

Since then I've tried all I can to treasure the gospel and put my heart into it--to make it a passion. I've been rewarded immensely, seeing the blessings of my increased devotion on a daily basis. He shared the scripture that I needed to hear, but the Savior said it best.

3  Understandably nervous and perhaps a little anxious, I got on my knees and gave my first personal prayer in nearly 6 years. I was done trying to get by with what I had reasoned in my head. I was done telling people I was over the church without having actually tried to find out if it was true. I had denied God's existence in my head over and over yet I had never tried to actually prove it. So there I knelt, immature in my experience with prayer, throwing up a white flag and hoping for answer.

I can best describe what I felt by saying that there was nowhere else on Earth I would rather be than right there at the foot of my bed. I knew, almost without prompt, that I should've done that a long time ago. I had spent so much effort pushing Him out but I had never let Him in. I still wasn't sure if the LDS church was true--that would come much later. But I at least knew it was good. Good to me, good to my family, good to millions of others. There was something there in the LDS church that couldn't be ignored. Starting from that moment, I needed to find it.

The Impassioned Pleas of Jeffrey R. Holland

In a speech given during this month's General Conference, LDS apostle Elder Jeffrey R. Holland spoke passionately about poverty and the need for members to give to the poor and needy, through fast offerings and other means. Titled "Are We Not All Beggars?", the speech featured Elder Holland's usual confident inflection and timely pauses that it make it almost impossible for audiences to not pay attention. But one moment in particular stood out to me. 

Shortly before concluding his talk, Elder Holland took the time to openly admit that although he had strong feelings about the need to give to the poor and needy, the blessings he's had in his life have allowed him to never have to be one of them. He went so far as to say the words:

"I have never been poor, nor do I even know how the poor feel."

How powerful and refreshing it is to hear an apostle of the Lord openly admit that he doesn't have all the answers, and that he can't possibly pretend to know what these people are going through. 

By itself this sentence means very little--many in our class could probably say the same thing. But combined with his powerful plea to take our abundance and give to those that lack, you know that it comes from a place of compassion in spite of what he doesn't know or understand. He's appealing directly to our pathos.

In his famous address at BYU titled "Remember Lot's Wife," Elder Holland similarly admitted that he too was guilty of "looking back" and not looking forward, sharing that he had asked his own wife at one point if they should just give up.

In admitting his weaknesses, Elder Holland allows each of us to recognize and forgive our own, empowering us to move forward and not look back.

You Don't Know Me, Don't Pretend That You Know Me

Assigned Section:
Helaman 13 -> 3 Nephi 4

Sections of Spoken Word:
Helaman chapters 13, 14, 15 (sermon)
Helaman 16:16 (dialogue amongst themselves)
Helaman 16:18-21 (dialogue amongst themselves)
3 Nephi 1:13-14 (dialogue from the Lord to Nephi)
3 Nephi 3:20-21 (dialogue between Gidgiddoni and the people)
3 Nephi 4:29-32 (the people crying out)

Selected Section:
Helaman 13:24-29

I chose this section specifically, as I noticed Samuel using a certain rhetorical technique that I've seen used before but thought would be interesting to analyze.

Throughout this short section, Samuel uses various "quotes" that suggest what the people may or may not say in certain situations. For example: "When ye talk, ye say, 'If our days had been in the days of our fathers of old, we would not have slain the prophets.'" In essence, "if someone says this, you will say this." He uses these hypothetical phrases to--in my estimation--appeal to the pathos, logos, and ethos of his audience, the wicked Nephites.

Sharing these little hypotheticals appeals to their ethos by showing the people that he has a greater knowledge of them than they might think. By directly pointing out things they've said or could have said he proves that he knows his audience and is ready to address them. I can only imagine some of the Nephites thinking, "oh boy I heard Craig saying that just the other day..." or "oh no he must've heard me saying that just the other day."

More obviously, these hypotheticals appeal to their pathos as the words strike the people right in their hearts. "You will say that he is a false prophet, and that he is a sinner, and of the devil, because he testifieth that your deeds are evil." He's essentially telling them that even if they did hear the word of God that they would deny it on account of their hypocrisy and evil.

Lastly, I feel that this technique might appeal to the logos of the audience, by providing them with some vague "examples" of things that have been said by them, assuming they're accurate statements.

By this account, Samuel the Lamanite was an expert speaker, which seems appropriate considering he had to talk on top of a wall to a large population of wicked, prideful people.

In All Sincerity

In our previous discussion of Mormon rhetoric, the idea of being "simple" and "sharing pure testimony" came up as the most powerful form of teaching. It was argued that perhaps any other way might not be able to conjure up those same emotions and feelings. At the time I felt that this was simplifying the topic a little too much--there's more to a sermon than being easy to understand.

The passages given from Paul, George A. Smith, and Neal A. Maxwell go a long way to help us understand what that really means. The advice Elder Smith receives to be "short" probably doesn't mean to literally be speaking for a very short time. Rather, it likely means to "cut the fat" as they say, and to share only what is necessary for the sermon to be effective.

Elder Maxwell then tells us how to properly be influenced by the Spirit, especially when preparing and teaching, lest we waste everyone's time. In his Do's and Dont's list, he mentions several things that suggest one thing: let the doctrine speak for itself, so the Spirit can do the teaching. This means presenting it clearly, with reverence, context, and power. There's nothing about fancy words in there.

Another important point mentioned by Elder Maxwell was to truly feel your discourse before you give it. To really believe it.

In Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's address at a BYU devotional in 1989, he begins by almost trying to prove to his audience--BYU students--that he cares about them and the message he's about to give. He tells them with a heavy heart that, "your hopes and dreams become evermore important to me the longer I am at BYU," and that, "your growth and happiness and development [...] are the central and most compelling motivation in my daily professional life."

Much like Jacob did before sharing a topic that grieveth him so, President Holland then went on to discuss sexual purity and the importance of staying chaste before and after marriage. Not once did the sermon have a feeling of a "guilt trip," where someone simply wants to make you feel bad about something. Instead, his sincerity and genuine concern for his audience and topic resulted in a sincerely heartfelt plea to follow Christ and His teachings.

important to me the longer I am at BYU

Wall Words

1. Form Analyzed
I chose to look at the language used by Samuel the Lamanite, particularly the use of repetition.

2. Passage Analyzed
I looked at the verses from Helaman chapter 13, verses 5 through 11.

3. Annotated Text

4. Breakdown / Listing of things found:
Samuel the Lamanite warns of some kind of destruction or loss in 6 different sentences, but also promises them with a way to be saved 5 different times.

5. Interpretation: 
Imagine being responsible for an entire peoples' salvation, through a one-time-only warning from the Lord. You'd want to make sure they got the message, right? Especially if you're on top of a wall trying to yell at them. In both his words and the Lord's words, Samuel explains that destruction awaits them unless they repent, and then repeats that idea a good handful of times. "Bad things are coming unless you repent...and unless you repent bad things will come." Also, by using both his words and the Lord's he provides the "two witnesses" that are required for these words to be established.

6. Connections / Questions:
Repetition appears all over the Book of Mormon, particularly as prophets explain things to the people. Words of Nephi (as Elijah pointed out in his blog post) and even Jesus Christ come to mind. I wonder if there's any pattern to the repetition, or is it just naturally given?

He Was a Teenage Lawn Mower

I had a branch president in one of my areas that gave some of the most impressive, engaging talks I had ever heard. I attended a Stake Priesthood meeting where he was asked to speak, and it was my first chance to actually hear him give a talk. He spoke confidently, and never lost the attention of anyone in the room, especially the young men at the meeting to whom he was addressing.

He started with a story about a time he was mowing his lawn as a teenager, and he came upon a few small turtles. He reasoned that there must've been a mother nearby, but couldn't see it. Afraid to accidentally mow over the turtle in the tall grass, he checked every spot of grass before he mowed over it. That is, until he got to one little patch of untrimmed lawn. He thought to check the grass before mowing, but decided against it. To his horror, the grass was indeed hiding a turtle. He then explained how we should never let our guard down when it comes to the gospel.

This impressed upon me just how powerful a personal, well-told story could help teach a gospel principle. Church leaders have used them for years to help teach tough, and perhaps complex topics, with no better example than our own prophet, Thomas S. Monson.

The reason for this seems clear: the conflict-resolution set up that we find in stories perfectly matches up with the problem-gospel answer that has existed as long as holy writ itself, while also providing memorable images to accompany abstract concepts. "Never let your guard down" seems like an obvious, oft-heard message in the church, but with this story, it becomes a lesson I'll not soon forget.

Above All Else, Be Good

In Orson F. Whitney's ambitious plead for the LDS people to create and advance the artistic and technological advancements of the world, he practically begs for us to, "above all things, [...] be original." He reasons that we have a culture and a religious history that is so unique and innately different that it should be easy for us to create works of art that are, if nothing else, unique from anything else in the world.

Considering the time of Whitney's address (1888) and the release of Nephi Anderson's Added Upon (1898), I can't help but imagine Anderson hearing this plea, running home to his favorite writing spot, and putting pen (quill?) to paper (parchment?). His ambitious portrayal of the Plan of Salvation in its whole--including the parts wholly unique and original to our religion--is practically a direct response to Whitney's statement.

The question that must then follow this, is "was he successful?"

Successful in being original? Absolutely.

Successful in being good? Not quite.

I understand that this book comes from a time early in the church's history when fascination with our doctrine must have (understandably) been incredible. But to now read a book where we get to follow two characters through the War in Heaven and then find each other (as "soulmates" nonetheless--something of a dirty word among LDS singles nowadays) on Earth and then into the postmortal realm, gives me the same icky feeling that I get when I see a painting of people in robes standing around in what's supposed to be the pre-Earth life, or seeing old Church videos depicting heaven.

We have absolutely no clue what either of those places would be like. And until we do, any attempt to depict it will fall miserably, unsettlingly short.  

My Spirituality and the Written Word: Non-Intersecting Entities

I read books as a kid. I was well-versed in Roald Dahl and Bill Watterson and an assortment of other books that featured nice, colorful covers and didn't strain the mind too much. I avoided anything that made it look like I actually enjoyed reading, cause I didn't okay stop asking.

Aside from that, I never wrote or read poems, I never wrote letters, and I had a journal when I was 12 with nine (9) entries that detailed all the cool movies I had seen. 

Coinciding with this scarce history with the written word was my own scarce history with spirituality.

My body was present at church, but my mind was not. I was much more logical about how I saw God, and always wanted more.

It wasn't until high school that I found the scratch for that itch. 

I was taking an English class where my teacher let us choose the books we would read. One of the requirements was to choose a philosophical book out of a list he provided. After checking the page numbers on Wikipedia, I chose the shortest one: The Screwtape Letters. I was far from spiritual at this point, and saw the book as more of a chore than a chance to become enlightened. 

What I found instead was an impressive narrative (if you can call it that) that detailed, quite logically, how Satan might work on men to drive them away from God. It all made such perfect sense, even though I was convinced it wasn't supposed to.

I didn't make changes right away or storm into my bishop's office that very same hour, but I began a path of self-discovery that ended up with me here: an RM, at BYU, who still finds time for colorful books and cool movies.