Testimony

Yesterday was fast Sunday for me and my family.  For any of the four readers of my blog who may not be aware, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormon).  Our church has a lay clergy, meaning that there is not a paid and full time pastor or preacher, but rather, the members quite literally teach and preach to each other on an amateur basis (under the direction of the lay bishopric of whom also perform their services pro bono).  On Sundays the sermons are delivered by members who were asked by the bishopric and then deliver their thoughts and findings on the topic they've been given.  This is the case for every Sunday but one each month.  Typically, the first Sunday of every month is designated as "Fast Sunday".  This means two things:

First, it means that the general body of the congregation will designate this Sunday as a day of fasting and prayer, wherein they make the extra efforts to plead with Heavenly Father for those blessings that are needed in their lives or the lives of others.  As most know, the church is a HUGE player in humanitarian efforts around the world and has donated literally over a billion in cash and commodities to these efforts since 1985.  A large source of those funds come about as a result of Fast Sunday.  Families will typically skip two meals in a 24 hour period as they fast with a purpose and then take the money that would have been spent on those meals, but now have saved, and donate it to the church and their humanitarian efforts.  These funds are used globally, but also reserved locally to help the members of their own congregations in their times of need.

Secondly, the sacrament services on these Fast Sundays are not planned; there are no assignments given and no speakers assigned.  It is basically the religious meeting equivalent to "Open Mic Night" at your local venue.  Members of the congregation are able, as they feel prompted or inspired, to approach the pulpit and deliver to the congregation their thoughts and testimonies about and surrounding the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Sometimes it is a child, like Leah this week, who expresses love for their family, excitement for baptism and appreciation for scripture.  Sometimes the testimonies born by men, women and children alike feel like they were personally delivered for my own betterment.  Other times, they miss the mark entirely, but I'm sure somebody was touched in some way.  It is a unique format that I have only witnessed in a couple different churches. 

Whether I choose to approach the pulpit and share my testimony, every Fast Sunday my mind recalls all that I have been blessed with, the many lessons I've learned the last month or the thoughts and messages that I feel might help others.  It is a great opportunity for me to reflect on these things which in turn strengthen my conviction, testimony and spirit.  It is a practice that literally edifies me and those around me.  Without fail, every Fast Sunday, I experience that inner conflict of whether or not I should share these things with the general body.  It's valuable to me, but will it be valuable to others?  Will I seem overly dramatic or perhaps not dramatic enough?  Will my words simply sound like the testimonies shared before me?  More times than not, I talk myself out of getting up from my pew and making that uncomfortable walk up the steps to the mic.  For a introvert incognito, it isn't something I naturally find the strength to do. 

This week, I made the walk with the help of my sweet little girl, Leah.  Leah, beforehand, prepared and discussed with me what she wanted to say when she had her opportunity.  Once she got up there, she found herself stammering and stuttering at the mic, not sure what she should say.  With a little hinting from Dear Old Dad, she was able to express that she loves her family, is excited to be baptized this year and that she enjoys reading her new scriptures.  She is a champ.  Then it was my turn.  Like Leah, I rehearsed and reviewed the things I wanted to discuss with my captive audience.  I mostly wanted to publicly express my gratitude for God, my family, my parents and my neighbors. 

I'm not sure I delivered that message.  I'm not really sure what I shared.  I think I was a mess.  This year has been a rough one.  Don't misunderstand me, I realize more than anybody just how blessed I am.  Nobody has ever accused me of being ungrateful.  Gratitude is my most sought after virtue.  Nonetheless, I have had a rough year.  I have lost many to mortality that I love dearly and unfortunately, two of those deaths came unexpectedly and at the hand of depression and suicide.  In addition to that, I have suffered with my health issues more this year than ever before.  I have worked hard to not let it slow me down more than it absolutely needs to, but it has affected my ability as a Father, Husband, bread winner and lover of the outdoors.  It has been sometimes soul crushing. 

In relation to these things this year, I am grateful for the gospel and knowledge I have of God's plan for me.  I find strength in the fact that Christ suffered my sins, aches and pains and knows exactly how I feel and he believes in my potential despite those sins, aches and pains.  I am grateful for the love of my amazing wife, Sarah, and my beautiful children who love me regardless.  They are my motivation and my driving force in life.  I am grateful for my parents who taught me to work hard and to move through life with a positive outlook.  They taught me that I have control over how I respond to these trials and it is I who determine if I win or if the trial wins.  As a parent trying to figure things out, I am constantly reminded of the amazing examples that live up and down and around my street.  There are so many amazing youth in my ward and neighborhood and they are products of such amazing parents and I want those parents to know that I watch them and I learn from them and I appreciate them.

Now why couldn't I spit that out yesterday?!