During the many turbulant lowpoints of my life, I have felt filled to the brim with my own unworthiness. Even worse, I have often compounded my own mistakes through intentional acts causing disappointment not only with my own expectations but also those that I know that God has for me. I felt as Alma did when he wrote, ““I was thus racked with torment, while I was harrowed up by the memory of my many sins.” (Alma 36:17) In measuring my weaknesses against the perfection of the Divine, I feel the despair of knowing that I could never measure up to such a standard and enter without help into my prepared place in my Father’s house. I weep for the gulf that separates me from thee, O Lord, and feel the weight that I have added upon my soul.
It it is in this state that Easter has come, revitalizing me to do better. I remember the words of John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” I remember the Last Supper and its modern use in my own faith where each week I may eat and drink in remembrence of Christ “and witness unto thee, O God, that [I am] willing to take upon [me] the name of thy Son, and always remember him, and keep his commandments which he has given [me], that [I] may always have his spirit to be with [me]. Amen” (Moroni 4:7). This allows me to each week renew my baptismal covenent and resolve to once again remember Christ in all things.
On Good Friday, I turned my thoughts to the suffering of Christ at Gethsamane, where Christ took upon him the sins of his people and bled from every pore. Christ here is the Passover Lamb, in whose sacrifice represents the mercy of God for his children Israel. I reflect on the weight that I have added to his burden and what I can strive to do in order to change myself. I then think of his journey to the cross after interrogation and torture. I keep in my head the image of the three men nailed to wood – two there for their own sins and one for mine and yours.
By Sunday, I was surrounded by the Spirit and ready for church. There, I further contemplated the empty tomb and the Risen Lord. There is the bridge that extends from me to the perfect One. By excepting his Son and expending the effect to reach always for him, God has created a method of escaping Perfect Judgement by the extention of Perfect Mercy. I truly know as Jacob writes, “I know if there should be no atonement made all mankind must be lost.” (Jacob 7:12) I nor anyone else can truly appreciate the enormity of the Atonement. We can only look upon our lives and praise the Grace of our Father who prepared a way for us all.
He is Risen!
Last week I decided to go to the theaters and watch the movie Act of Valor. This is pretty unusual for me as I usually hate going to the theater. Yes, I am that cheap. Also, I do not prefer to go alone but that weekend I went. I really wanted to go and support a pro-military movie. Hollywood has put out too many movies that are in my opinion “unpatriotic.” If that offends, tough. Act of Valor did very well, in fact better than even I expected, with a weekend haul of 26 million dollars.
Tea Party Patriots starts as an early history of the grassroots political movement. It then evolves into a systematic call to arms (figuratively for now) for addressing what a good many people see as fundamentally wrong with our current American system. These issues run the gamut from executive overreach to cultural rejuvenation. As a manifesto, its strength is its ability to clearly lay out possible solutions to very complex problems while maintaining the realism needed to understand that this is a process and will not be accomplished overnight. Mark Meckler and Jenny Beth Martin both stay true to their grassroots in this work by stating that real change will come through influencing every level of government – restating the classic line that “all politics are local.” As our next political cyle looms, it will be interesting to see what impact these concepts will have on both state and national levels. Hopefully, change will occur and I am not taking of the type that President Obama endorses. If you are interested in taking back your country, this is one of the books to read.
In the past, I have often felt that historians transitioning from academic writing to fiction have difficulty in maintaining the flow of plot over details so beloved in academia. Victor Davis Hanson, previously at the University of California – Fresno and currently Senior Fellow at Stanford’s Hoover Institute, has in my opinion suffered from this same difficulty in his inaugural novel, The End of Sparta. Displaying his wide expertise and depth in Greek historical minutia, it would seem that he has left the general layperson behind in a novel no doubt intended for a wide audience. Although my own knowledge of Greek history, literature and language have increased to maybe the level of a sophomore in Classical Studies due to reading this fictionalization of the Boeotian War, I believe that it would appeal mainly to those who have at least a superficial knowledge of such topics.
This holiday weekend has been one of highs and lows for me. It started out pretty well when I had Thanksgiving at my Aunt Madge’s house with my cousins Mike and Renee. Renee’s kids were there as well as Aubrey, her granddaughter. I had a great time talking with all of them and eating the food. We had turkey, stuffing, green bean casserole, and several other delicious dishes. After that, I went over to my Dad’s and talked to with him and Darlene. I then went to John and Marianne’s house. Jason and DeAnne had arrived from Biloxi, so I got to hang out a little with everyone at John’s. It was a good day although I did get a little irritated. My only brother that I didn’t get to talk to was Doug, who was coming back home from his trip to Gatlinburg. I will see him and everyone else on Dec. 10th though.
It represents the memory of my youth. Sliced pork loaded with sauce on a toasted bun accompanied by a side of chips and root beer in the bottle. Anytime my family got anywhere near to Hammond, Louisiana, we had to stop in for a Hi-Ho BBQ sandwich. My mother ate there during her time at Southeastern Louisiana University back in the 1960’s and I ate there as well during my stint at SLU.
How can I describe my most loved burger? When I stepped off the plane from China after having been there an entire year, the first thing I did was look for the shuttle at LAX that would take me to the nearest In & Out Burger. My love of this place was consolidated around a decade ago during my mission to California for my church. While I enjoyed Cali, In & Out in a sense capstoned the experience for me. The burger was delicious, the fries were quite good, and in the days before I recognized my inability to process lactose, I downed it with their signature shake. This review is not about In & Out though.