Anew

Personal Revelation and the Two-Edged Sword

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Mon, 04 Jul 2011 04:17:00 +0000

These are my notes from my Elders Quorum lesson today. They're kind of half-baked, since I got the assignment last night and had to change my topic this morning (the original topic I picked was already assigned for a lesson two weeks from now). I didn't use everything here, and I did use some things that are not here. Still, draw from this what you will. The formatting is funny because I just copied and pasted this from Word.

Personal Revelation

EQ Lesson 7/3/11

My thoughts are not your thoughts

Isaiah 55:8-9

For my ^athoughts are not ^byour thoughts, neither are your^cways my ^dways, saith the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ^aways^bhigher than your ways, and my ^cthoughts than your thoughts.

The necessity of Revelation to guide our path

1 Nephi 8:19-20

And I beheld a ^arod of iron, and it extended along the bank of the river, and led to the tree by which I stood.

And I also beheld a ^astrait and narrow path, which came along by the rod of iron, even to the tree by which I stood; and it also led by the head of the fountain, unto a large and spacious field, as if it had been a ^bworld.

1 Nephi 11:25

And it came to pass that I beheld that the ^arod of iron, which my father had seen, was the ^bword of God, which ^cled to the fountain of ^dliving waters, or to the ^etree of life; which waters are a representation of the love of God; and I also beheld that the tree of life was a representation of the love of God.

1 Nephi 12:17

And the mists of darkness are the temptations of the devil, which blindeth the eyes, and hardeneth the hearts of the children of men, and leadeth them away into broad roads, that they perish and are lost.

Instead of a schoolmaster, like the Law of Moses, we have an iron rod to guide our steps. There are many good things in the world that lie off the path, and often Satan tempts us after them. This is how we get into broad roads. Broad roads can be traveled by many. They often allow faster and freer movement, but they are much more dangerous, and lead many places, none of which we really want to end up at. Broad roads are places where many people can all walk side by side, arm in arm, straight to hell. Or they can each choose their own personal exit to whichever form of damnation serves them best. The straight path is also narrow: a single-file line in which travelers can encourage those ahead of and behind them, but cannot safely relax their grip on the iron rod – not even to prevent the fall of another. We must be more devoted to maintaining our hold on the rod than to any of the other travelers on the path.

Proof of that:

Matthew 10:34-37

Think not that I am come to send ^apeace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword.

For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law.

And a man’s ^afoes shall be they of his own ^bhousehold.

He that ^aloveth father or mother ^bmore than me is not worthy of me: and he that ^cloveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.

So what is the sword that Christ has sent? It has two edges, and, like the iron rod, is called revelation, or the word of God.

The Sword of the Spirit – Having the spirit is the same thing as having the word of God: or revelation.

Ephesians 6:17

And take the helmet of ^asalvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God:

Pierce them to their very soul

Jacob 2:35

35 Behold, ye have done greater iniquities than the Lamanites, our brethren. Ye have broken the hearts of your tender wives, and lost the confidence of your children, because of your bad examples before them; and the sobbings of their hearts ascend up to God against you. And because of the strictness of the word of God, which cometh down against you, many hearts died, pierced with deep wounds.

3 Nephi 11:3

3 And it came to pass that while they were thus conversing one with another, they heard a voice as if it came out of heaven; and they cast their eyes round about, for they understood not the voice which they heard; and it was not a harsh voice, neither was it a loud voice; nevertheless, and notwithstanding it being a small voice it did pierce them that did hear to the center, insomuch that there was no part of their frame that it did not cause to quake; yea, it did pierce them to the very soul, and did cause their hearts to burn.

Two-edged Sword

Hebrews 4:12

For the ^aword of God is ^bquick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged ^csword, ^dpiercing even to the dividing asunder ^eofsoul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a ^fdiscerner of the ^gthoughts and ^hintents of the heart.

Doctrine and Covenants 33:1

Behold, I say unto you, my servants Ezra and Northrop, open ye your ears and hearken to the voice of the Lord your God, whose word is quick and powerful, sharper than a two-edged sword, to the dividing asunder of the joints and marrow, soul and spirit; and is a discerner ofthe thoughts and intents of the heart.

Reveleation 2:12

And to the angel of the church in Pergamos write; These things saith he which hath the sharp ^asword with two edges;

What are the two edges of the sword?

Justice

3 Nephi 29:4

And when ye shall see these sayings coming forth among you, then ye need not any longer spurn at the doings of the Lord, for the swordof his justice is in his right hand; and behold, at that day, if ye shall spurn at his doings he will cause that it shall soon overtake you.

If justice is one edge of the sword, what do you suppose the other is?

Mercy

When the sword of justice is hanging over the people, what is the other edge of the sword doing? It is pointing the other way. We want to be on that side of the sword. In fencing this is called the “true edge,” or the edge of the sword that faces the direction of the cut. If the true edge of justice destroys us, then the opposite edge, or mercy, spares us from the wrath of God. Justice cuts us off from God. Mercy cuts us off from the world. In other words, when we are on the merciful side of the sword of Justice, we are made separate from the world. Nephi’s interpretation of his father’s dream bears this out:

1 Nephi 12:18

And the large and spacious building, which thy father saw, is vain imaginations and the pride of the children of men. And a great and a terrible gulf divideth them; yea, even the word of the justice of the Eternal God, and the Messiah who is the Lamb of God, of whom the Holy Ghost beareth record, from the beginning of the world until this time, and from this time henceforth and forever.

The Sum of the Matter

Joseph Smith:

Our heavenly Father is more liberal in His views, and boundless in His mercies and blessings, than we are ready to believe or receive; and, at the same time, is more terrible to the workers of iniquity, more awful in the executions of His punishments, and more ready to detect every false way, than we are apt to suppose Him to be. He will be inquired of by His children. He says, "Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find;" but, if you will take that which is not your own, or which I have not given you, you shall be rewarded according to your deeds; but no good thing will I withhold from them who walk uprightly before me, and do my will in all things--who will listen to my voice and to the voice of my servant whom I have sent; for I delight in those who seek diligently to know my precepts, and abide by the law of my kingdom; for all things shall be made known unto them in mine own due time, and in the end they shall have joy. (Aug. 27, 1842.) DHC 5:134-136.

Questions:

How do we make sure we can continually receive revelation?

What is the value of personal revelation and what is its scope?

What forms can revelation take?

How does revelation help us as Priesthood holders, husbands, fathers, sons, etc?

What role does prayer take in the process of personal revelation?

A Phan-tastic Observation

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Sat, 02 Jul 2011 13:33:00 +0000

For some reason I watched The Phantom recently, and there was this line about how the Phantom is sworn to fight cruelty, greed, and piracy in all its forms. I can't help but think that his job has gotten a lot more complicated since the advent of the Internet.

I'm just saying.

Nun

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 17:26:00 +0000

Give Them Meat

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 22:13:00 +0000

Today in Sacrament Meeting my ward's Young Women reported on their experiences at Girl's Camp. These kinds of programs used to bother me. I mean, it's twenty or so teenage girls all getting up saying the same thing, but trying to make it sound different. I've never doubted that the girls mean what they say, but they sometimes seem not to know what to say after the third or fourth speaker. Some of the two-minute talks are enjoyable - even inspiring - but by and large it used to feel to me like a huge inside joke minus the humor. You kind of had to be there to get it.

Then I realized that the purpose of doing this was not just tradition, but to cement in the girls' minds, in a real-life setting, the lessons they had learned while in a very unrealistic environment. The purpose was to take those tear-inducing tweaks to testimony and turn them into something more enduring: a firm commitment to meaningfully change something .

Of course, that didn't give the meetings any more variety, but it made them easier to approach and learn from myself.

So that brings us back to today. All the Young Women got up and testified. Then they sang (of course). Then the leaders spoke. This is generally the best part of these meetings for me. The adults have more time and talk about things that most likely wouldn't occur to the youth. They also are better at articulating the same things the girls all fumbled tearfully through and at making them meaningful for the whole congregation. There are still plenty of tears, but they come from broader experience, and so are easier to relate to for me. After all, I've never been to Girls' Camp.

But today was different. One of the leaders talked about how the theme this year was something about "happily ever after," and that the speakers and activities all had to do with princesses and fairy tales. In this leader's mind, this was a fabulous thing because it took the Gospel and its principles and brought them "down" to the girls' level - that low plateau of mental function where even teenage girls can grasp the basics of a concept, so long as it's presented simply enough.

Right.

I hear people talk about bringing the Gospel down to kids' levels all the time, but this leader really emphasized and extended the word "down." Then she continued on this concept. I don't know how anyone else felt, but if I had been a young woman listening to that, I probably would have been a bit offended. These aren't toddlers we're talking about. These are mid to late teens. Some of them are out of high school.

It seems to me that this is the age where we ought to start feeding them more meaty things. We ought to start trusting their intelligence and expanding their knowledge, not reducing infinitely complex principles to a paste, freezing it, and serving as a fruit smoothie. These girls are past the age where the Disney-approved version of the Gospel is meaningful or appropriate for them.

We are blessed with a gospel that can be comprehended by any child, but is also so richly textured that we can't possibly grasp all of its depth within the brief period of a mortal life. It comes down to us distilled, but even the distillations are in some ways beyond our reach. When kids at this age act out and reject the things we've taught them, it is more likely to be a result not of giving them too much to think about, but of not giving them enough. Teens are faced with the same complex issues as adults, and they're learning to parse those issues like adults. Their brains are becoming capable of understanding things at multiple levels. Indeed, they're expected to understand things more deeply in school and family life. They are supposed to be capable of earning trust, and should be given opportunities to do so.

So why are we still reducing things to princess level? This leader claimed that among the "new" ideas presented to these Young Women was that stories can actually mean something. What!?! You're kidding, right?! A fairy tale has a purpose beyond making me aspire to be some beautiful creature wrapped in pink ribbons? A story can have *gasp* morals? But only one, right? No more than one moral per story? And no meanings aside from morals, either? OK, I think I can handle that.

Seriously.

Is this the way YW leaders throughout the Church look at their charges? As little girls who just need a simpler version of things in order to make the right decision? Just a catchier nursery rhyme? If so, it's no wonder immorality is spreading among LDS youth.

Youth leaders of the Church, hear this: teens need a Gospel that is as complex as the world they face when they're not at church. They need to know that there are answers beyond the ones they memorized in Primary. They don't need to be taken back to Primary. They need the tools to successfully navigate the difficult challenges they encounter daily - tools that are nuanced enough for their personal experiences. They don't need blander milk. Meat is what they're getting from every other source: tasty, varied, enticing, stimulating, challenging meat. Also, some rancid meat. Make sure they get the good stuff too. Respect their intelligence. Use yours. Don't make them feel like you're condescending to their level from on high. These are some of the choicest of the choice. They're meant to make a difference while they're young. Realize that. Act accordingly. Give them meat.

If you don't they will leave.

There Is No Try

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 14:48:00 +0000

I was reading Matthew 25 today: the part where the Lord talks about separating the sheep from the goats at his second coming. What were the criteria by which he did this? Well, there was only one. It was how well they had treated each other.

That's right. One thing only. The sheep (true disciples of Christ) were the people who ministered to everyone, no matter how well they knew them or what their station was. It's not that they were smart, or orthodox, or wealthy, or married, or grown up, or successful, or well known, or nice, or educated, or baptized, or anything else. It was that they helped others. They met needs wherever they saw them, as often as they were able.

The others - the goats - didn't.

Leaking Sekrits

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Mon, 30 May 2011 06:02:00 +0000

An unnamed source at baking day leaked a sooper sekrit recipe for French fry seasoning to the covert folks at adamkk.com. Head over there (click the link) to check it out!

Also, while I'm busy cross-posting, check out my featured artwork for this week!

Disciplinary Win!

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Tue, 17 May 2011 16:01:00 +0000

Effective discipline is a challenge for every family, but I live in a very small house with five extremely active, intelligent little girls. This complicates matters greatly, for reasons that should be self-evident. The biggest issue, naturally, is that it is quite literally impossible to isolate more than one of them at a time. If just one of them gets in trouble, it's easy enough to find a place to let her cool down.

But when is it ever just one of them? So we've had to get creative.

To start with, let me make this clear: violence rarely works on little girls. At one point, being out of other ideas, we tried spanking in various scenarios: warning before hand, surprise attack, last resort, etc. Only once did it really work: when #2 was smothering then-infant #3 with a pillow. She's never done that again. Every other time, the bad behavior just escalated.

So we fell back on the time-honored standard of time-out. That worked for a while, but then the girls realized that nothing was actually keeping them from just getting up and goofing off again. There is no such thing as order in a crowd of small females. And how do we avoid a crowd in a house this small?

We improved things for a while by moving time-out from a corner or a bed to a stool. The height kept them in place, and we could put several stools around the room at sufficient distances to avoid aerial battles between warring tribes. The problem with that was, again, small house. The couldn't reach each other from the stools, but they could reach other furniture, walls (with things hanging on them) bookshelves, the alarm system control panel, the water cooler, or the kitchen counter. Any or all of those are easily enough distraction for a hyperactive little girl wanting to avoid an attitude adjustment.

Plus it clogged up our limited walkways, so they were always ambushing unsuspecting passers by in fits of temper.

Well, last night we may have found the answer: Blindfolds!

That's right, blindfolds. We were having a particularly difficult bedtime with a 2 and 4 year old who just wouldn't calm down. I'm sure all you parents know the drill. Misbehavior was rampant: the hunt for breakable rules was in full swing despite repeated warnings and physical relocations to their respective beds.

So out came the stools. Within five seconds one had tipped over on top of not only its occupant, but also an inconveniently located one year old, bruising one and hurting the other. From then it was a banshee screaming contest loud enough to wake the dead.

Just as I was at the point of despair, I had a brainwave and, grabbing a small blanket and a pillowcase, quickly rolled them up and tied one around each little screaming head.

The result: instant behavior modification. True, one changed from shrieking to wailing, but the other went silent. And more miraculous, stayed that way. The wailer also got the point: Daddy was serious about it being way past bedtime. It took her all of a minute with the blindfold on before she was ready to got to bed and stay there quietly until she fell asleep. The other took a little longer to agree, but in the interim she merely sat like a statue, pondering (I can only hope) exactly what she'd done to get into that situation.

Now, it's possible this was only effective because of its shock value, but I'm hoping we can make it work. We don't want to be cruel, but I'm hoping that by removing visual distractions we can once again make time-out a place where your only viable option is to sit, think, and listen.

Clearing Things Up: How a Pretty Cool Quote Got Even Cooler

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Mon, 16 May 2011 20:30:00 +0000

A while ago, I heard this pretty cool quote from Joseph Smith, the founder of Mormonism:

"Our heavenly Father is more liberal in His views, and boundless in His mercies and blessings, than we are ready to believe or receive."

I was liberated by that teaching because it allowed me to challenge my perceptions and preconceptions, to open up to ideas I'd never given the time of day before, in short to look for truth outside of my usual intellectual stomping grounds and not feel guilty about it. After all, if I'm not ready to believe how liberal God's views are, then I'm probably seeing things too conservatively (note: I don't use the terms "liberal" and "conservative" in the political sense - this is not a political post).

But something bothered me about the quote, and I couldn't figure out what. Then I realized the problem: I had no context on it. So Sunday I looked it up in Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, (pg. 257) and this is what I found:

"Our heavenly Father is more liberal in His views, and boundless in His mercies and blessings, than we are ready to believe or receive; and, at the same time, is more terrible to the workers of iniquity, more awful in the executions of His punishments, and more ready to detect every false way, than we are apt to suppose Him to be. He will be inquired of by His children. He says, “Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find;” but, if you will take that which is not your own, or which I have not given you, you shall be rewarded according to your deeds; but no good thing will I withhold from them who walk uprightly before me, and do my will in all things—who will listen to my voice and to the voice of my servant whom I have sent; for I delight in those who seek diligently to know my precepts, and abide by the law of my kingdom; for all things shall be made known unto them in mine own due time, and in the end they shall have joy. (Aug. 27, 1842.) DHC 5:134-136.

That's the entire section from TPJS, from beginning to end. And that's also much better.

The problem was that on its own, the small excerpt seemed to give a little too much license to the seeker. It seemed to say: "Go for it! Search liberally! Try everything! Accept any crazy idea that comes along! What God doesn't like, he'll forgive, because you were just trying to find out if it was good anyway."

Well, there's some validity to that, as I see it. We do believe in seeking after anything "virtuous, lovely, or of good report, or praiseworthy" wherever it may be found. That injunction comes in the same breath with one of the most dangerous and difficult statements in all of scripture: "we believe all things." What a simple statement, but how hard to figure out for a religion with an "only true church" claim! But, that only supports my position that all truth is found in paradox.

Back to the topic, the larger quotation reins in the smaller. Yes, God is more liberal than we think. Yes, his ideas are much broader than we would accept. Yes, he is incomprehensibly merciful to those who stray. But, if we take it too far, our punishment will also be much harsher than we imagine, and we will be evaluated much more closely than we think for any sign of deviation from the right.

There's the balance. So what's the answer? As my old missionary friend, Elder Batson, used to say: "Ask, ask, ask." God "will be inquired of by His children." That means that he wants us to ask him. The term "will" is used here to indicate intent, not inevitability. God's desire is for us to ask him how to live. Anything we accept that he has not given us is "not [our] own," so our obligation before accepting any principle is to inquire whether it be of God. We are promised not only an answer, but to be lead from there to further truth. No good thing will be withheld if we are diligent and obedient to what we learn.

This is consistent with the teaching from Lectures on Faith that one of the things necessary for saving faith is an actual knowledge that we are following a course that is in accordance with God's will. We know because we've sought and asked and been answered. Then we do it.

There's also an oblique allusion to the fact that this is a very hard way to live. The promise is that we'll get the answers in God's time, not ours, and that in the end we'll have joy. But in the meantime*, we might have heartache, disappointment, sacrifice, tears, persecution, sorrow, loneliness, and any number of other experiences that stretch us and try us both intrinsically and extrinsically. But in the end... Well, the end is what we live for.

*For my ideas about how we'll also have joy in the meantime, click here.

Guest Post: My Political Position - by God.

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Mon, 16 May 2011 00:34:00 +0000

Today in church this verse was quoted from the pulpit in an entirely different context. But it struck me that this is also applicable to all the people - especially Christians - who go around authoritatively (self-righteously) claiming divine sanction of their political views. I'm sure it applies equally to any human endeavor.

My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

- Isaiah 55:8-9

"I Can't Do Anything About It!"

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Sun, 15 May 2011 17:52:00 +0000

The other night, my six year old daughter burst into tears telling me the kids at school were calling her a bully. Of course we talked about it and I got her version of events and tried to comfort and teach her as best I could. But I know my girl well enough to know that when she gets angry, bullying is something she's easily capable of doing. My real questions were for her teacher.

The next day when I picked my kids up from school, I hunted that teacher down. Now, this is a very nice lady who has taught two of my children. They both love her and she's done a fine job, but she's hard to talk to. She doesn't make eye contact, and acts like she wants the conversation to be over as quickly as possible. Maybe that's just how she is with me, though.

Whatever the case, I found her and explained what had happened. Before I could ask her my burning question, however, she hit me with a five-minute explanation of how there were only two weeks left in the school year and that's what kids are like and how she just can't do anything about it in so short a time. She was clearly frustrated with the kids in her class (who are particularly vicious this year, she says) and she seemed to think I wanted her to make my daughter feel happy again. She seemed a little afraid of what I would do if she didn't. I sensed years and years of pent-up frustration behind that display.

I wanted to take this near-elderly woman by the shoulders and say, "Listen! I don't expect you do anything about it! That's my job! I just want to know what she's doing!"

I ended up finding out what I wanted, but the whole experience was rather startling. Do our teachers really feel like parents expect them to be solely responsible for the conduct and happiness of their children? Do parents really have that idea? Is this an "I feed them and clothe them, you take care of the rest" parenting culture we've developed? I was influenced by plenty of teachers in my life, but I learned good behavior from my mom and dad, along with many other things. Don't parents realize anymore that they are the most important teachers in their children's lives?

Original Artwork - The Three Degrees of Glory

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 02:10:00 +0000

Note: some of you probably know that while I can do a lot of things from scratch, I'm better at compositing than drawing or painting. I also don't know any iguanas presently, so I couldn't take the photos I used here myself. I do, however, find great pleasure and inspiration in using images I've found online - always properly licensed - to create something new. I think taking the raw materials provided by others and combining them to create something uniquely mine is the essence of how we shape our characters in the real world. Image credits for this piece go to Enrique Dans, Stefan W, Paul Asman, Jill Lenoble, macinate, Christine, and David DeHetre. Thanks, one and all.

Explanation:

It's impossible to understand this image without appreciating something about the LDS concept of the afterlife. The doctrine of the Three Degrees of Glory is the doctrine of eternal happiness for the children of God.

Mormons believe that while every person who ever lives on the earth will have an opportunity to accept the gospel of Jesus Christ before facing their final judgment, not every person will choose to do so. And yet, we also believe that God loves all of his children, even if they lack faith in him. God's purpose, therefore, is not to weed out the faithful or to reward the elite few while condemning all others, but to provide for all of his children the greatest measure of happiness they are willing to receive. God teaches the principles by which the greatest happiness can be achieved, but honors his gift of agency by allowing all people to choose for themselves.

This view of things necessitates that the conditions of men and women in the eternal world will not be uniformly glorious. Those who accept and live by all of God's laws will be capable of a more exalted enjoyment than those who only partially live these principles, or those who reject them all together. It is along these guidelines that the three degrees of glory are split.

The lowest kingdom - the Telestial - is for those who have rejected the atonement of Christ and the blessings of the gospel. While they must bear the natural consequences of this decision, their ultimate end is rest and a happiness which we are told we cannot in our mortal minds conceive of.

The middle kingdom - the Terrestrial - is inhabited by those who once accepted Christ but were blinded by the things of the world or the cunning of the devil and failed to be completely faithful. They are worthy of greater glory than the beings of the Telestial Kingdom, but not an eternal increase of joy.

The highest kingdom - the Celestial - is the dwelling place of God and those who comply fully enough with all his commands that they become perfect in Christ. This is not to say they are sinless, but only that they desire to be so and act accordingly. These exalted beings enjoy the privilege of perpetual progression in knowledge, power, might, and dominion until they come to the same fullness that God himself enjoys. Thus they become like him. This condition is the only one that does not include a measure of damnation, as it is the only one in which the soul's eternal progress is not limited by its choices. This is what God and Christ desire for all humankind.

To be clear, the reason any person's eternal glory is limited is that he or she has chosen to reject a principle which, if accepted, would open the door to greater opportunities. Each person will be rewarded with the greatest privileges for which he or she qualifies, plus (in my personal understanding) a heaping portion of generosity. Even within these kingdoms, individual glory and happiness varies according to personal circumstances.

While I've done my best to briefly articulate this doctrine, my words constitute my own understanding and belief, not an official statement of the church's teachings.

Now to explain the artwork, though I won't explain everything. That would defeat the purpose:

Obviously, the image is divided to represent the three kingdoms, called the three Degrees of Glory. No disrespect or irreverence is meant by the use of iguanas. For one thing, I like iguanas. For another, their faces are, I think, well suited to a piece dealing with eternal mysteries. They are difficult to read and therefore can express many things.

In the lower third, the colorful background represents the variation in the glories of the individuals in this kingdom, and also the many types of paths that can lead to this condition. While the iguana is distinct from the background, it has the same coloring, indicating that it is thoroughly a part of that world. Souls in the Telestial Kingdom cannot travel to kingdoms of greater glory: they would be miserable in the company of beings whose lives represent "what might have been."

The lower and middle kingdoms are divided by the branch of a tree with the coloring of the ocean. This indicates an earthly, elemental focus to their existence, but also represents a progression upward between the two kingdoms.

The middle third features an iguana that is very much outside. It exists in a space from which it can behold greater glories than the earthbound iguana below it, but it lacks their presence. Beings who inherit the Terrestrial Kingdom serve as ministering angels to those who are fully exalted, and the constellation lines in this third represent the travels involved in such activities. They connect the souls in the lower kingdoms with their greater authority.

The middle and upper kingdoms are divided by the leaves of a tree with the coloring of the sun. This has a symbolism similar to the other dividing line, but as in that the oceanic coloring represented distance from light, here the solar coloring represents an approach to light. The lower divider also seems to be containing what is below it, while the upper divider seems to be supporting and even enabling that which is above it.

The upper third, representing the Celestial Kingdom, is completely different from the two below it. The question I asked myself in creating it was, if I could look God in the eye, what would I see there? I chose a green coloring to represent life and, since the subjects here are iguanas, the kind of being an iguana might see when imagining perfection. The green rings in the pupil represent the penetration of God's vision - he sees all - and the unbroken nature of his existence. Concentric circles imply that this is the only realm in which family unions and unions of other kinds, priesthood, joy, and life can be truly eternal. The red rings in the iris indicate the potential for wrath: God is loving, but capable of using whatever measures will best serve his purposes.

The green inner circles also represent the mercy with which God views us, while the contrasting red outer circles reflect the justice within which all of God's actions must operate. Mercy cannot rob justice.

There's more, but suffice to say that I wanted to create something representing the eye of an infinitely complex yet attainable being. Of course, it invokes the all-knowing eye that is often used to represent God. I chose not to depict some other resident of this sphere for two reasons: we know very few specifics about life in the Celestial Kingdom, and God represents what those who attain this Kingdom are capable of becoming.

Finally, the dome shape further emphasizes the idea of eternity and limitlessness in this kingdom.

So, I hope that helps you understand what I'm getting at here, whether or not you agree with it. Please leave me your comments below. I'd love to hear what you think.

Two Brothers

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Sun, 06 Mar 2011 22:19:00 +0000

Let's pretend there was a man. No, really. As hard to believe as it may be, there actually was. Let's say he grew up kind and caring and tried to do good wherever he went. Maybe he helped the poor, and stood up for the helpless. Maybe he became a physician and tried to cure people's ills. In the process he might have made some medical breakthrough that changed millions of lives for the better.

Perhaps he had children and raised them to be good. In their sorrow, he comforted them. In their pain, he healed them. In their joy, he rejoiced with them.

He lived in Germany at the turn of the 20th century. He was a German by birth, but disagreed with the Nazis and, because he was a good man, rescued some Jews from the Holocaust. Later in life, he wrote about his efforts and the other things that happened during the war. His memoirs were powerful, and he won awards both literary and honorary for his tales of sacrifice. To the day he died, he did all he could to help his fellow men.

Now let's give our imaginary friend a name. Let's call him Gustav Hitler, and pretend that instead of dying from diphtheria on Dec. 8, 1887, just over two years after his birth, he had lived to do all the things we listed above. The man was Hitler's brother.

Does that change how you feel about him?

For the better, or the worse?

So, all you folks out there who like to point out that in Mormon theology Jesus Christ is the spirit brother of Satan, think about that. Does having an evil brother demean you at all, or does it make you seem all the greater for having overcome the things that drew him down? Are you any lesser because someone close to you made poor choices? And most of all, how would you like to be talked about, in spite of all your efforts to do good, as Hitler's brother?

An Awesome Passage About Magic Spells

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 02:49:00 +0000

Bonus points if you can tell me where it's from:

"I know I'm slapdash," he was saying, "but there's no need for you to copy me. Always read it through, carefully, first. The shape of it should tell you a lot, whether it's self-fulfilling, or self-discovering, or simple incantation, or mixed action and speech. When you've decided that, go through again and decide which bits mean what they say and which bits are put as a puzzle. You're getting on to the more powerful kinds now. You'll find every spell of power has at least one deliberate mistake or mystery in it to prevent accidents. You have to spot those. Now take this spell..."

Just lovely.

Tomorrow I Turn 30

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 04:34:00 +0000

To be continued...

The 24 Hour Film Making Experience.

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 23:34:00 +0000

Over on LDS Cinema Online I posted about my experience making The End, my team's entry in the 2011 LDS Film Festival's 24 Hour Film Making Marathon. It was a ton of fun and probably the most amazing creative experience I've ever had. The result wasn't too shabby, either. You can see it below, check it out on the newly redesigned adamkk.com or YouTube, or watch in in the post on the other blog.

Whichever way you prefer, please do me a favor and head over here to read about it.

Thanks, and please leave me feedback!

Adam

2011: The Year of Creative Output

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Mon, 24 Jan 2011 06:25:00 +0000

So, it's not too late to do a post about New Year's resolutions, right?

I thought not.

There are a lot of things I plan to do this year, and I have a few very important resolutions. But of those, there's only one I'm going to share tonight. That is this: this year I will increase my creative output. It gets more specific than that. Every week I will write at least one blog post (which I've done so far, but not on this blog). Every month I will create at least one new drawing or image that is not for someone else. Every quarter I will produce at least one short film or video that is not for a client.

I'm off to a good start. I've blogged every week this year, at least once, I've created the image, which was a composite of photos from my wedding and other creative elements, and I've already finished a short film, thanks to the 24 hour film making marathon of the LDS Film Festival. My film is absolutely the best I've ever done, and the other things I've created are among the best, at least from an execution standpoint.

Now, you may not see a new post here every week. I write for three blogs, and I intend to share the love as equally as possible. But if I really get in the groove, I may be quite consistent on all three. I hope to also make my other creative works available so I'll probably link to them from here, when I post here.

Why is this a big resolution for me? Well, I'm turning thirty next month, and thanks to a friend I started asking myself what the status of my creative contributions were three decades into my life. I've been around long enough to not only acquire skills, but also put them to use in some meaningful way.

I'm about to turn the age Christ was when he began his mortal ministry, and since I know that part of my purpose on this earth is to create things that are useful in bringing others to the Lord, consider this an announcement of the start of my own ministry. I have no excuses left. I suppose I could make some up, but at this point I'm really the only thing holding me back. I have resources. I have connections. I have ability. I just need to do it.

So this year, I'm doing it. Here I go.

Image is Everything

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Sun, 12 Dec 2010 21:22:00 +0000

One thing that always saddens me when I'm looking at religious art online is comments that say something like: "Oh, sure. Great painting of Christ except for one thing - you got the wrong skin color!" In the most militant cases there will usually follow some scripture (often entirely out of context) quoted to prove beyond a doubt - for all you dummies who've clearly never picked up a bible - that the Savior was white, black, blue, orange, or some other hue.

Then there are the criticisms about hair color, beard length, eye shape or shade, and other physical characteristics. Some will try to present the scientific or historical view that Jesus probably looked like XYZ because of his lineage and this is what other Jews probably looked like at the time and there's no evidence he looked uncommon since he was accepted as a Jew and so on and so forth.

But what it comes down to - barring any divine revelations - is that none of us really knows what Jesus looked like during his earthly ministry, nor do we know what he looks like now.

You might think some things could be inferred, and you may be right. But what about the Browns? The Browns are a family in my ward who have two biological children and two adopted, and if you were to try to guess which was which I'd bet 95% of you would guess wrong. The parents are both as pale pink Caucasian as it gets, but two of their kids are dark enough to be African. Those two are the biological ones. The adopted kids resemble the parents not only in skin color, but also in facial features and nearly all other ways related to appearance. Sister Brown says that's how they know these kids were meant to be with their family - because they look just like they were born into it.

But no one who knows the family thinks twice about Timmy's or Daniel's (the dark ones) skin color. In writing a book of their deeds, I doubt most people would think to include how different they look from everyone else in their home. They're just accepted for who they are.

Similarly, in Jesus' time the Roman Empire was culturally diverse, and although Jesus himself was accepted as the child of Mary and Joseph, this is no grounds for assumption that his appearance was in all ways strictly Jewish. His true heritage was, after all, divine, and who knows how that influences physical characteristics?

But here's the other thing: none of that matters.

One of the most telling scriptures about the value of appearances is this: "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them" (Gen. 1:27). We might be able to make a guess at what a meridian of time Jewish Jesus looked like, but what about Adam and Eve? Any guesses on skin color, eye or hair shade for them? What about nose shape? Was Adam bearded or clean shaven? Was Eve short or tall? Thin or plump? What do you think?

Furthermore: male and female? That means one of two things - either God is asexual or there are female Gods. Or maybe it's just meant to help us see past the physical characteristics. Maybe the image in question transcends differences in appearance. If people of all colors come from the same Heavenly Father, maybe we don't know as much about God as we think

What's the matter? Haven't you ever picked up a bible?

Perhaps the more important verse to remember when judging others' representations of deity is this: "I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some" (1 Cor. 9:22). Whatever Christ is to us, he may be something quite different to someone else. I'm not talking about things like older brother, savior, master, judge. I mean things like Christ the educator, Christ the moral activist, Christ the nuclear physicist, Christ the parent, Christ the child, Christ the pilot, hero, security guard, artist, paraplegic, cultural preserver, confidant, mentor, addict, banker, construction worker, farmer, curator, cancer survivor, vocalist, best friend.

Just as important as knowing in whose image we are made is recreating the divine in our own image. This is how we relate to God. He becomes to us what we need - often by our imagining him that way - in order for us to come to know him. For example, you will rarely (perhaps never) see a portrait of a white Jesus in a black church. Why? Not because everyone earnestly believes that Jesus really was black, but because depicting him that way reminds the congregation that Jesus knows black people of all stripes, their struggles and histories. He knows how to succor them, and is as much theirs as anyone else's. By painting Christ as a black person, the black people realize that he is on their side. He is their champion against whatever injustices or evils they face. He also becomes more approachable, because, after all, he is just like them.

The same would go for a Chinese church, or a Mexican one. Or a white church, be it British, German, French, American, or Italian. Christ belongs to the Polynesians and the Hebrews. He belongs to the Palestinians and the Russians. Every culture can have its own Christ. More, every person can have his or her own personal Christ. He is, after all, our personal Savior.

The roofer striving to follow the Lord can imagine Jesus working alongside him on the roof, sweating in the sun and helping him not to swear when a stray staple pierces his hand. The writer can visualize a savior who overcomes sin, death, and writer's block. One who gives inspiration for deeds of the pen as well as of the body. The survivor of a terrorist attack can see Christ missing the same arm she is, and learning how to walk again alongside her. The grieving parent knows how Christ also suffers at the loss of his children, but has prepared a way for their return.

It is not arrogance to imagine that Christ looks like us, nor is it necessarily ignorance. Instead, it can be worship of the most pure and personal kind - the sort of worship that perfects us. By imagining that the Savior is like us we are reminding ourselves of the critical fact that we can be like him. By creating him in our image, we remember that we are created in his.

Cuss Words!

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 03:10:00 +0000

I don't cuss. I just don't - never have. Get me steaming mad and I might start yelling, but the language will be clean enough to wipe your kitchen counter with. Drop an anvil on my foot and I'll jump up and down emitting wordless cries of agony, but never a vile word. I don't even make up fake cuss words and use those. I've actually taken satisfaction in noticing this fact in the odd, detached way you notice things when your attention should be riveted entirely on other matters, like a bleeding appendage. I've been pleased to see that my instinctual utterances contain no language to embarrass me in front of my children or anyone else.

In fact, I'm the kind of avid non-cusser that makes world-champion cussers take a sabbatical. I don't even have to say anything; cussing simply happens less when I'm around. Still, several people I consider friends are world-champion cussers and they don't cut back just to suit me. To you guys, I don't hold it against you. I congratulate you for your integrity. You may think I'm joking about that, but I'm quite serious and if you understand why then you're a much more thoughtful, charitable person than I used to be.

Why don't I cuss? It might all stem from that one time I said a bad word (not what would be considered a cuss word by any means, but still an unacceptable one in my house) when I was a kid and my mom washed my mouth out with soap. Children, I can tell you from firsthand experience that is not merely an idle threat. I was shocked. I can taste it still if I try. I vowed then and there never to use another word that could result in such an experience. Few childhood incidents have impressed/scarred me so deeply.

Thanks, Mom.

But that couldn't really be all, could it? Has nothing else happened in my life to enforce this admittedly unusual behavior of mine? Am I afraid that my mother would still hunt me down with a bar of soap if she heard of me cussing?

Well, she might at that, but the thought isn't what keeps me acting this way. I'm not afraid of cuss words, or any words. I don't use them as a basis for shallow judgments of people or art, nor do I take them too lightly. Words are tools - more specifically they are meaning carriers. The combination of sounds we call a word is no more than a verbal symbol we recognize as representing a certain concept. I use some erstwhile cuss words in a non-cussing context, when there are legitimate meanings attached that are still in common enough usage as to be relevant and not distracting. I use those words readily and without remorse. But words are tools. The way I build my communications influences how effective they are, and so I try to choose the best tools for the job.

Let us briefly consider some common cuss words, and then you may get a sense for why I don't use them.

1. H**l

Of all the cuss words, this one probably gets more mistaken than any other. By that, I mean that people use it a lot in ways that are really not crude at all, but express a legitimate concept rather well. For example, some say "It will be a cold day in hell before..." Now we all know that whether hell is actually hot or not, it has been scripturally compared to eternal fire. So this phrase really expresses the impossibility of something quite effectively. Still, it is often mistaken for cussing because people think hell is a bad word. It's not. It's a bad place (or condition, depending on your beliefs). I think this statement and others like it can be spoken without cussing.

Other uses, however, such as "what the ---- did you do that for?" just don't make any sense at all. Here the point of using the word in question is to add force to the expression through illegitimate reference to a deeply significant religious concept. It is the essence of cussing. It takes something that should be serious, and uses it out of all context or appropriateness just for impact. It demonstrates a lack of proper respect and of ability to express oneself, and it distracts. So I don't do it.

2. S**t

This word has reference to excrement. How many situations is that really useful in? Nowadays, though, this word is frequently used to denote something someone likes a lot - an ideal or paragon of excellence in a thing. The irony is staggering.

3. D**n

Here again, I'm totally comfortable saying "damn" in an appropriate context. For example, sinners who do not repent are damned. That's legit. On the other hand, this word is frequently used to denounce things or people we don't like. Such use implies that the salvation or damnation of these individuals or things is up to us. It is arrogance itself. It is the ultimate in unrighteous dominion. I don't do it.

4. G*d

I'm a religious man. It should be obvious why I object to any name of deity being used as an expletive. God can of course be referred to appropriately, but let all people beware how they take His name in their lips. This is the only kind of cussing explicitly forbidden by scripture, yet it is often considered the most innocuous. I don't find any obscene use of this word, whether in an acronym, with a few letters altered to sound different, or more blatant, to be acceptable. Again, it is the meaning one wishes to communicate, not the word used to do it, that matters.

5. B***h

This term for a female dog is utterly unflattering. It is most commonly used to insinuate that a woman is difficult or otherwise undesirable to be/deal with, or to indicate that someone is whining - like an obnoxious female dog, presumably. A strange trend has arisen, however, in which young women refer to each other this way if not affectionately, then at least with some kind of congratulatory or admiring implication.

I don't get it. If a young woman called my daughter this name in my hearing, however she meant it, I'd send her off forthwith. If a young man did it, I might punch him. The whining meaning I can at least see a little bit of sense in, but it's linked so closely with a negative image of womanhood, that I don't think anyone pictures an irritating dog when the term is used.

6. F**k

Ah, the infamous "F word." It is a crude reference to the sex act, completely devoid of any sense of its sanctity. The word's flippancy is the most offensive thing about it. What does it say about us, I wonder, that we do not balk at the blasphemous use of God's holy name, but turn pale whenever someone profanes the name of sex? I also wonder what it means that many of those who use this word often use it in association with everything. They use it to mean both good and bad things, or to mean nothing at all. Perhaps it reflects our culture's preoccupation with bedroom activities. I don't think I've heard any other cuss word used quite like this one: namely to separate almost every single word of every single sentence, as though the natural pauses and vocal cues involved in speaking were not enough. I choose to speak more respectfully of the means by which life is created.

Needless to say, there are more cuss words than those I've mentioned, but I really don't feel a need to go through them all. By now you probably get the gist of my thinking on the matter. It isn't that I'm looking for excuses to condemn these words or their users. I just don't feel they reflect the kind of communication I'm interested in, and in most cases I don't find their legitimate meanings important enough to make them an active part of my dialogue.

On the other hand, they draw negative attention to themselves and those who speak them, instead of to the message that forms their context. I was going to say their purpose is to shock, but in today's social environment, they're not even so shocking anymore; they more often serve as fillers when imagination or vocabulary falls short.

There is no scriptural admonition I know of against cuss words per se, only warnings about the influence of the tongue on the rest of the being and injunctions to avoid foul language. There is a commandment not to take the Lord's name in vain, of course, and one against swearing, but that has to do with oaths, not expletives. There is a difference. You may find it strange that I distinguish between cuss words and foul language, but any reader of the Old Testament will see that the Lord and His prophets use colorful expressions to make points regularly. But they do not do so with vileness. It is a fine line.

I think part of whatever credibility I have comes from the fact that, while I'm not the best spoken person around, I do hold to strict standards about my language. My complete lack of cussing may have come as a reaction to a forceful parental intervention, but I've kept the stance I took then ever since. I now have better reasons for it than fear of a soapy mouth. I don't condemn those who cuss so long as they do it from a considered perspective and actually mean the words they say. As for me as a lifelong abstainer, however, I simply choose not to say them.

Notes on Politics, or Why I'm Currently Unaffiliated

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 18:51:00 +0000

A while ago I removed my name from the rolls of the Utah Republican Party, of which I'd been a member since I became of voting age. It isn't that my values have changed that much, or that I don't want to take a stand on certain issues. I do. But running for office is not in my future plans and I want to feel free. The party is not the organizational manifestation of a movement to enshrine family values in public life while protecting the free exercise of religious (and other) rights and limiting the scope of government. It is, or has become, an exclusive club riddled with soundbyte-based groupthink and structured to hold off change - even positive change - for as long as possible.

Now, that's not entirely fair of me because most of the people in the GOP don't intend it to be that way, and individually they are not that way. But that is often the result I see. The politics are driven by fear. Fear of change, fear of being perceived as unorthodox, fear of the unknown.

It's not so much a problem with Republicans as with what the two-party system had morphed into.

In this large, diverse, confused, amazing country of ours, it's impossible for two parties to accurately represent everyone. Yet generations of belief in good versus evil means we are programmed for a bi-polar way of thinking. It is yes or no. Right or wrong. This or that. The only time we want more than two choices is when we are shopping.

Actually, I think that can be a good thing. We are in a struggle between good and evil. There are only two folds, two masters, two churches.

But they are not the Republican and Democratic parties.

Hugh Nibley said "Satan's masterpiece of counterfeiting is the doctrine that there are only two choices, and he will show us what they are. It is true that there are only two ways, but by pointing us the way he wants us to take and then showing us a fork in that road, he convinces us that we are making the vital choice, when actually we are choosing between branches in his road. Which one we take makes little difference to him, for both lead to destruction." He then pointed to the lack of regret among the early Saints at not having institutionally taken sides during the Civil War. The choice between North and South and no other option was a false one.

Similarly, the idea that the American future depends on the outcome of a battle between Republicans and Democrats is false. So is the idea that we have to join with one or the other or become irrelevant.

The party system has its uses, the most important of which is empowering people to stand together on issues they see as important in an organized, and therefore more effective, way. But our two major parties have evolved from bandings together of like-minded individuals into powerhouse political machines without which election is all but impossible. The agendas are not controlled by the general membership, but by committee, and the goal is not the best possible outcome for the country, but keeping the party in power.

It is very convenient that we only have two major parties. That way we can use derision and sweeping generalization to nebulously define a very unappealing "them," while employing the guilt at being associated with "them" to recruit followers of the always unimpeachably virtuous "us." This, my friends, is the essence of American politics today, as well as other forms of public discourse, to a disturbingly large extent. The only thing more damaging than the "them vs. us" mentality is the "them vs. me" version that is striving for domination of popular culture.

So how would I like to see it? In the Book of Mormon, when the King Men (a power seeking, fear driven organization) made a move to change the laws to allow a king, the Free Men banded together to preserve their freedom. They also fought together later when the King Men joined forces with the Lamanites. Why? Because there was a critical issue at stake, and there was an organized party seeking what was clearly evil. It was a legitimately bi-polar situation. The Free Men's agenda was not to enforce any specific action on the part of the chief judge. It was simply to preserve the political system under which the people had a voice. The formation of a second party was required to counter the uprising of the first.

The rest of the time, as far as I can tell, issues were simply left to "the voice of the people," which usually chose right, we are told.

That's the key: the people. The individuals making united or disparate votes as the occasion called for. Not divided by imaginary party lines. One people, choosing individually, and free.

Commenting Rules Changed

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 22:19:00 +0000

All right. It's been quite a while since I've had any links to Asian porn sites (or anything else undesirable) even show up for moderation in my comments, so you'll be glad to hear I'm loosening up the regulations again. Now you'll see your comments posted immediately when you make them, although you will be required to do the word verification thingy. But that can be kind of fun anyway, depending on the word, so there you go.

You're welcome.

And thank you.

iArt - Photography

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 04:53:00 +0000

These photos, entitled "Husband" and "Wife," are deeply religious, intensely symbolic, and otherwise totally awesome. Or could be. If you want. Please tell me why.

Thanks!

- a part of the mobile blogging experiment.

4th & State

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Fri, 10 Sep 2010 21:19:00 +0000

We're all standing on the same street corner: me, the man with the cake under his arm, the lady in the yellow turtleneck, the guy wearing shorts in spite of the chill in the air - and each of us is going somewhere different.

We're coming from different places too, but for these few brief moments while we wait for the signal to change, our various paths have coalesced on a single patch of pavement and we stop, perhaps irritated by the delay, perhaps out of breath, perhaps resigned to the vulnerabilities of pedestrian traffic.

No one wants to stand too close to anyone else, but we all secretly hope to be the first into the street - first to come closer to the destination, first to be able to escape the awkwardness of silent closeness with strangers.

As we all glance sidelong at one another I suddenly wonder: has any of us pressed the button?

- a part of the mobile blogging experiment.

Location:400 S. State Street SLC, UT

Souveniring

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 04:14:00 +0000

As a missionary in Arizona (Tempe mission) I tried never to spend a dime of my allotted funds that wasn't strictly necessary to my successful functioning in my calling. I could live on $8/wk. in food, plus a little more each month for personal sanitation. Once in a while I had to buy bike parts, and sometimes we bought the components of the stop-smoking kits we frequently gave to investigators. Other than that, expenses were rare, as the mission handled all rent and utility payments independently.

The upshot of all this is that in the course of my two years I never purchased a single souvenir. Not one. Granted, I didn't serve in an exotic location, (it was an hour flight from home) but I think I would have made the same decision if I had. These were the Lord's funds, not to be used for personal luxuries or remembrances beyond what I could accumulate without cost.

Despite this policy I still came home with some of the coolest souvenirs ever, all gratis, and to commemorate the kindness of the people who gave them to me, here's a little list.

1. A mini sandstone arch from the AZ desert.
2. A small plush snake I named Nate (my family might get that joke).
3. The skin of a real rattlesnake (legally caught) that I skinned, ate, preserved, and mounted under the guidance of a less active member.
4. A turquoise and silver ring given me by members of an Indian tribe I served with.
5. A name given me by the same tribe and a feather used in that ceremony.
6. A tie pin with the tribe's great seal (see picture).
7. Two handmade Indian blankets: a quilted one for me and a gorgeous one made of I-know-not-what as a thank-you to my mother for sending me.
8. A plethora of books.
9. A pitch pipe.
10. A pu'ohe (Hawaiian bamboo trumpet).

And a number of other small remembrances that pertain to cherished memories.

- a part of the mobile blogging experiment.

Location:N 690 W,Clinton,United States

Pearly Shells, or My First Attempt at Singing to Myself

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 20:54:00 +0000

I was having fun last night recording myself singing with my iPhone, then playing it back on some small speakers and singing along - a harmony part, of course. Then it occurred to me, I have the capability to do a better recording out in my studio. So that's what I did.

Here's me singing Pearly Shells, which is my daughter Pearl's favorite song. Even though she's only a few months old, she really does calm down when I sing this to her. I recorded myself singing in three parts and... well, listen for yourself. I'm not the King's Singers, but I hope you enjoy.

Baptized Mormons - A True Story (Except for Some Names)

noreply@blogger.com (Adam K. K. Figueira) — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 21:58:00 +0000

Disclaimer: I don't know anything about narrative writing, but I wanted to tell this story from my mission. As I considered how best to do it, this seemed like the best way. Don't expect anything spectacular. It is all true, however, with the exceptions that I can't remember the names of the brother who gave us a ride or the man we went to pick up. I also made my best (educated) guess as to the feelings of Ricky in the final scene. The rest of it came from my own experience and firsthand accounts of the others involved. Any dialogue is exactly as it proceeded from the original mouths, and any happenings are, to the best of my memory, strictly accurate.

Part 1

Despite Jose's promises, Elders Figueira and Hansen knew that the man was probably not going to come to church that Sunday, but they were determined that it wouldn't be due to a lack of faith on their part. Like most of their contacts in that part of Tempe, Jose was a friendly guy, happy to listen, and genuinely interested in what the two missionaries said. He just didn't see his commitments to do the things they asked of him as any more binding than, say, a buddy's invitation to come hang out for a couple of hours. Easily put off, no offense intended, no harm done. This time, however, Brother Smith had arranged to pick Jose up, leaving the investigator with no excuse since he had already admitted to not having anything to do that weekend.

Still, since that day Brother Smith had been unable to contact Jose by phone to confirm their arrangement. Now he was feeling like it might not be worth the extra gas it took to get to Jose's apartment, let alone the added stress of getting his family ready and deposited at the church those few minutes earlier than usual.

So when, on Sunday morning, Brother Smith announced that he hadn't even bothered to go, Elder Hansen was unsurprised and couldn't blame the good brother. Elder Figueira, however, was bothered. He insisted that they at least had to do their part, believing the Lord would bless their efforts.

"I'm sorry to have let you down, Elder," Brother Smith said, a more remote note hint of offense in his voice than Elder Figueira had feared. That was good, but the missionary didn't quite know how to respond, so he mumbled something about it being all right. The last thing he wanted to do was upset one of their most reliable friends in the ward, but he felt very strongly that they needed to make the trip.

The chapel was filling up quickly. It was Fast Sunday and multiple baby blessings threatened to leave standing room only. The missionaries left their bags on the pew to reserve a spot for themselves and, they hoped, their investigator, then they piled into the Smith's van and went down to Jose's.

He wasn't there. A few minutes later, an embarrassed Elder Figueira, a disappointed Elder Hansen, and a justified Brother Smith returned to a sold-out Sacrament Meeting. The brother was able to slip in beside his family, but every other seat - including those saved by the missionaries - had been filled.

Part 2

Ten years ago, Ricky Giles had been a different kind of Elder, and one found not nearly so frequently or easily in Arizona: he was an Elder of Jehovah's Witnesses. The lifelong seeker of truth had advanced in his church throughout the years, and today he was in a position of trust, despite his continuing inner conflict.

The Witnesses might not be the perfect church, he knew, but it was the best he had found so far, and he had done a lot of looking. The fact that he was responsible for filling half of the two-hour meeting scheduled for later that day was proof that he at least believed enough to satisfy his superiors.

Somewhere in the course of the day, however, Ricky had an epiphany. He didn't know how he knew it, but he did: Jehovah's Witnesses was not the true church of God. He had found much good there, but he wouldn't find his ultimate answers, let alone salvation. He never showed up for the meeting.
___________________________________________

Ten years later, Ricky's Catholic wife Pam had religious questions of her own. A friend of hers at work - a Mormon - was talking with her, trying to answer some of her questions. Pam had been trying to share these answers with her still unaffiliated husband for about five years, but Ricky was absolutely closed. He may not believe in the Witnesses anymore, but he definitely still believed what they had told him about the Mormons - what he himself had taught others.

The Mormons were evil. They were anti-God. The front gate of their famous temple in Salt Lake City had a ram's head and a pentagram on it. No way would Ricky touch anything that had to do with the Mormons.

Today, though, something was different. Maybe it was the Christmas season. Ricky had finally gotten over his aversion to the major holidays. Maybe it was just that he was too tired today to put up a fight. Whatever the cause, Pam's repeated attempts finally paid off, and Ricky agreed to go with her to see the Christmas lights at the Mesa Mormon Temple.
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Something hit Ricky the moment he stepped on the temple grounds. Sure, he'd been reluctant to come, but so far he hadn't seen any pagan symbols, the lights were beautiful, and the feeling was...incredible. To tell the truth, Ricky recognized it. Just as he had all those years ago when he'd left the Witnesses, today Ricky acknowledged the Holy Spirit.

The feeling only intensified when Elder Lewis showed up. He was a young missionary in both senses of the word: nineteen years old, and only a few months in the mission field. Nevertheless, he was one of the most knowledgeable people Ricky had ever met where the scriptures were concerned. He readily handled all of Ricky's questions about the prophecies of Isaiah and other Old Testament prophets. Plus he had plenty to say about new scripture.

It was a fairly brief conversation, but Ricky and Elder Lewis had made a trade by the time it ended. The missionary had gotten a piece of paper with Ricky's information on it. Ricky had gotten a promise that the missionaries in Tempe, where he lived, would be visiting him soon. The other thing Ricky got was a single, undeniable conviction: God was speaking to him. God was telling him to be a Mormon.
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On the drive home, Ricky resolved to put God to the test.

"If God wants me to be a Mormon," he told his wife, "then He wants me to have a Book of Mormon, and He wants me to have it tonight." It was about nine when the couple arrived at their apartment, but Ricky immediately opened the local phone book to the heading "Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints." He couldn't believe his eyes. The church could have had a phone book all its own, there were so many numbers. It went on for pages and pages.
Undaunted, Ricky told himself, "If God wants me to be a Mormon, then I'll get what I need within the first ten numbers." On the second one, someone picked up. It was a bishop in a neighboring city, working late in his office. Ricky explained why he was calling, and the bishop invited him down to his chapel.

The bishop gave Ricky a tour of the facility, including the chapel, the meeting rooms, and a large water font for baptisms. Then he gave Ricky a Book of Mormon. When Ricky asked what time services were, however, the Bishop told him that there was a congregation closer to him in Tempe that he should probably attend. They looked it up, found the hours and address, and Ricky went home convinced that he had finally found his church.
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Sunday found Ricky and Pam walking into the church just as Sacrament Meeting was about to start. The congregation was apparently huge. Every seat was filled. Well, almost every seat: there were two ownerless bags on one of the pews. At a loss for what else to do, the Giles moved the bags and sat down.

Services were interesting. Near the beginning two babies were blessed, which seemed like a special occasion. The Sacrament was beautiful. The individual testimonies of ordinary members were both remarkable and inspiring. Then it was over and neither Ricky nor Pam knew what to do. They had both heard that Mormon services were longer, but since about half the congregation seemed to be going home and no one offered to show them differently, the couple left unsure as to what the next step might be.

Part 3

Elders Figueira and Hansen came home Sunday night needing a miracle. Not much had gone as planned that day. Jose hadn't showed up, he didn't look like he ever intended to come, Brother Smith was mildly upset with them, and on top of it all, they'd lost their seats at Sacrament Meeting. Elder Figueira in particular was terribly confused. Hadn't he felt the need to visit Jose so strongly? Hadn't that idea had a divine source? Then why had nothing happened? Why hadn't Jose been there? Why had he been made a fool of in front of his companion and a ward member whom he respected? Did he even know how to recognize the voice of the Lord anymore? Could he perform his duties as a leader among the local missionaries if he couldn't even get one prompting right?

Carrying these questions and others, the two tired Elders planned, prayed, and went to bed.

By Tuesday things weren't much better. The only glimmer of hope came in the mail that afternoon. It was a referral from the temple lights last week - one Rick Giles. Even though it came from Elder Lewis, a trainee and good friend of Elder Figueira's and an excellent missionary, the Elders were only too familiar with how these things generally went.

A person went to the lights where the beauty of the environment and the Spirit of the temple combined with the general goodwill of the Christmas season to soften hearts just enough for a referral to be given. Most of the time it was from an eager member wanting to share the Gospel with an unsuspecting friend. The person in question had usually cooled enough by the time the name got to the right missionaries that the window had largely closed. Time was of the essence, and too much of it had usually passed.

Still, Christmas light referrals were better than media referrals by a long shot, plus Elder Lewis wouldn't have intentionally sent a dud. There was that occasional miraculous story that got all the Elders and Sisters at the temple pumped up to go out bearing testimony and taking names. And faith preceeded the miracle didn't it? Elder Figueira decided to call on it right away.

Someone picked up. The Elder introduced himself as a missionary from the LDS Church.

"Oh, yes!" said the voice. "I've been waiting for your call."

Part 4

It had taken the Elders several days to call, and Ricky had begun to worry that the message he'd sent at the Christmas lights hadn't gotten through. His fears had proven false, however, as the missionaries had called earlier that day. They would be at his apartment soon. His wife, who had been a Mormon in her heart for years, was just as excited as he was, but Ricky was also nervous. What if the local Elders weren't as good as Elder Lewis? What if he didn't feel that same confirmation - that sense of familiarity and truth? After so many seemingly miraculous events, what if it was all just too good to be true?

The doorbell rang, and Ricky answered. If he had needed further confirmation, he got it as the missionaries sat down. Ricky realized that he already knew these young men. It wasn't by their names or faces that he knew them: not by any past acquaintance with their persons. Ricky recognized the bags.

Two weeks later he and Pam were baptized. Mormons.