Rex was such a beautiful
puppy when I first saw him. Happening down an alleyway, I noticed how his brown
and black fur coat seemed almost incapable of containing his excitement or
hiding his enthusiasm. He jumped, leaped, pawed and hurled himself until it
seemed as though he might come right out of his skin in his zest to express his
happiness.
Whenever someone would pass
by the gate near the spot where he was tethered, he would run to greet them, to
play with them, to share his life with them. But the chain would pull his head
with a quick snap, jerking him right off his feet.
He had so much life inside,
so much he wanted to see and so much to share that he would jump up again and
again, pulling and lunging until he would fall down panting for air that had
been forced from his throat by the unrelenting collar.
His eyes and cries would
follow the children down the alley way pleading, “ Please play with me. We
could have such fun. I want to come with you but I cannot. Each time I try,
something stops me. Please, please don’t go away” But as always, the yard
became quiet, cold and lonely.
A long time passed before I found the opportunity to wander that way again. I looked for Rex but I did not see him. Instead in the yard was a large, ugly, brown and black dog. He was chained to a steel rod anchored down in the frozen ground. His hair bristled at the sight of me and his teeth flashed. He ran at me growling deeply, his head yanked back as he reached the full extent of the chain. His eyes were filled with hatred. They seemed to say, “ If it were not for this thing, I would leap forward and sink my teeth in your throat.” The large red letters on the white fence read, “Danger. Beware of Dog”
I moved on quickly, wondering whatever became of my friend Rex.
There is a reunion being
held in my backyard this fall. They are expecting hundreds to attend out of the
thousands who were invited.
Even though its being held on our property and in our yard, we have not been invited. As a matter of fact, they have been holding these reunions for a very long time without our permission. They have been coming long before we lived here, even longer than the coming of the Europeans to the Americas, or even the indigenous people who once lived here.
I am speaking of the annual
return of the salmon to spawn in the creek that runs through our property.
For the past two years they
have been gone from this stream. But now they are returning to lay their eggs
and finish their life cycle –here — where it began at the bottom of the clear
cold stream among the sand and pebbles.
What a marvelous thing it would be if we could sit on a log and ask them where they have been. What incredible tales of adventure would they tell us? How many thousands of miles have they traveled? How many struggles did they have to overcome to reach home? So many rivers, so many streams that all look alike, how did they find their way back?
With so much swimming,
through so many strong currents, with so many obstacles, did they ever think
about giving up?
I have seen them in strong tides where they were just able to hold their own. I have seen them streak through water at great speed, darting from rock to rock, finding eddies to rest in. Then, a few minutes later, I have seen them go again, then rest again, repeating the process over and over. I have watched them leap through the air, just to get over a single water fall. Some of these extraordinary efforts only gained them a few hundred feet.
In the interior of British Columbia, Canada, a damn was built many years ago. It stood in the path where salmon have passed up stream for hundreds of years. When the salmon came, they tried to get over it, but it was too high. So they hurled themselves at in until their bodies were smashed and broken. The men who built the damn were so impressed at their determination that it was decided to build a concrete water ladder so the fish could circumnavigate the damn in small leaps.
What made the salmon do
this? What thought in their tiny heads was so powerful as to compel them to
succeed or die in the attempt?
I suspect, as each left the
tiny stream where it was hatched, it had no such compulsion. Rather it was
probably filled with a great excitement for adventure, a feeling of freedom, a thirst
to swim, to eat, to look, to play, to do anything and everything with reckless
abandonment.
What happened and when? How
much time went by before there came the feeling deep from within that they must
return? Did they ignore it at first, perhaps mistaking it for something they
should not have eaten? No doubt they became restless as the feeling became
stronger. Is that why they began to gather together in large schools to see if
others were feeling the same? Were they looking for someone to tell them what
to do? Where to go?
Visualize them then, like ballet dancers, pivoting in unison, first this way and then that. Their movements become faster as others joined in. “ Where are we going?” No one answers as each becomes transfixed in the hypnotic spell. Then, without any visible signal, they all begin to move in a single direction. Somehow, from somewhere a long, long way away, they hear –or rather feel — a calling. “Come home” it beacons. “Come home. It’s time. You must complete the task.” Some respond, yet others stop to ask,” What task? What time?” We are mature now and strong. We are already home. We will continue doing as we have always done.” They break off and swim away.
Those who begin the trip start
with enthusiasm, but gradually some slowly drift away because the journey seems
so long and the reason so unimportant.
Others moving on ahead hear
and feel the call again. ”Come, hurry, there is not much time left!” Swimming
through and across large nets, they struggle against fast moving tides, Over
and up water falls, past enticing lures and strange looking, brightly colored
minnows they move onward, always onward.
Still, it is too far and
too much to expect from some. They pause, and rest, and play with the exciting
trinkets that dangle from long, shiny spider webs.
Now the few remaining are traveling further and longer each day. Many have scars and bruises, while still others limp and work with all their strength just to keep up. “ Move on, Move on, Don’t delay, there is only so much time left!. You must finish, You MUST finish.”
When they finally arrive,
there are not many left. They look nothing like they did when they left. Their
backs are humped, and their snouts turned up. Their skin is a strange, bright
red color. But they have arrived and their joy is high. They have come home.
They will lay the eggs that will ensure the continuation of their species. Once
the eggs are fertilized, the males make
great sweeps to cover them with fine sand so they may lay protected among the
pebbles on the bottom of our clear water stream.
It will be a few months
before the cycle is repeated. Then these new hatchlings will too go out to sea,
as countless millions of others have done before.
As it is with fish, so it
is with man.
We have left the place
where we were spiritually raised. But now, we are all away at sea. From
somewhere afar off, we have heard, or rather felt, a stirring which is calling
deep down inside of us. “Come home, come home,” it calls. “ You must complete
your task. There is not much time left!” There are many who respond. They
gather together looking for directions on what to do, where to go. Yet some
prefer to cling to old ways. Still others are busy chasing trinkets that move out
of their reach on invisible spider webs.
Still, the call has come.
Can you remember hearing it? I can. It was when I was a little child. It came
as a distant voice on a summer wind. I remember knowing that there is a God and
I had something I must do. When the missionaries from The Church of Jesus
Christ of Latter-day Saints came and called at our door, I remembered that day
in my childhood. The voice sounded as familiar as “a voice on the summer wind”.
Come home, come home” it called and I responded.
Later, I read what the Lord said in Matthew 4: 19: “…Come follow me and I will make you fishers of men.”
We are not home yet and
there are many challenges and obstacles to overcome before we get there. The
early Christians used the sign of the fish to identify themselves. We might
consider how many other things “fish” could teach us.
The world tells those that
are seeking a deeper personal understanding to go out and find themselves. To
set out on a such a mission is a misguided, self-centered concept, fraught with
dangerous experimentation. Very often it involves exploring chemical
substances, permissive sexual behaviors, extreme sports and/or poor life
styles. Notice how these choices that seem to hold out a promise of finding
one’s self also include addictive practices which bring instead unsuspected and
unbelievable consequences. Misery, loneliness, hopelessness and pain are often
the rewards.
Many people who set out on a quest to find themselves unfortunately find they have lost themselves in the very process.
The Lord’s council on the
other hand is to “ Lose ourselves in his cause of serving others”.
Matthew 16:25 “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.”
He also promises us that in
the process, we will discover ourselves. The only thing that can help us understand
ourselves better, which is really what “ finding ourselves” is supposed to
mean, is serving others.
Alma 37: 34 “Teach them to never be weary of good works, but to be meek and lowly in heart; for such shall find rest to their souls.”
Through this process, we
discover that no matter how poorly off or mistreated we believe ourselves to
be, there are others who are worse off. No matter how little we may think we
have to offer, there are others whose needs are much greater – and they
desperately need us to share. Only when we serve others do we find those who
need us to reach out and include them in our lives.
The happiest people, no matter where in the world they live, are those who lose themselves serving others, while the most miserable people in the world are those obsessed with helping themselves.
———————-//——————–
John 12: 24 “Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. “
This is a very baffling
statement unless you know something about plant biology.
Every seed that is ever
planted in the ground goes through a special experience very like a ritual sacrifice.
First the seed’s physical composition changes. As it begins to sprout, the seed
becomes itself a food source for the emerging sprout. The tender sprout is
totally dependent on the seed to sustain it until it can develop its own
independent root system. By the time the sprout has become a little plant with
independent roots, it has used up every last bit of resources the seed
contained. And the seed has died. This is the sacrifice demanded of the seed if
it is going to produce a new plant. If the seed is not prepared to die, it must
then live alone, because there is no other way to produce another like unto it.
The sacrifice of one seed, brings to life many seeds which in turn yields many
thousands more that bear the same future responsibility.
You can perhaps anticipate where Christ was going with this analogy. He was referring to the sacrifice he himself was about to make: He offered his life so that we may live.
If
he did not die, we would not have eternal life. He would not have fulfilled the
measure of his own creation and we would all be doomed to remain physically and
spiritually dead forever,
We know he fulfilled all
that The Father required of him. His offering was enough and it was accepted.
If Christ gave the ultimate offering so that we could have life, what is required of us in return? Surely we also, must be required to make an offering to fulfill the measure of our creation. What sort of an offering should it be? Perhaps the real question is: “What offering will be enough?”
———————-//——————–
Years ago I met a man and his wife in Montreal. They had a beautiful and talented daughter who went away to university in Utah to complete her education. While there she met a young man from her hometown. He offered to give her a ride. Unfortunately, his careless driving caused an accident in which she was killed and he was badly injured.
Her grieving parents went
to Utah to make arrangements to have her body returned to Montreal. While
there, they learned the young man was still in intensive care. They could have
just ignored the situation. Or they might have visited him to vent their grief
and anger. After all, it was his fault that their daughter was gone.
They did neither.
Instead, when they found
out that the young man had no family, no insurance and no money, these parents
paid his outstanding bill, and brought him back home with them.
For months they bathed his
wounds and changed his bandages. They fed him and encouraged him through his
guilt and grief, while still suffering from their own. After almost a year,
they discovered the service they so humbly offered to this boy, had healed
their hearts in the process. They had laid their offering on the alter and it
had been sufficient.
———————-//——————–
Each of us has a mission or
purpose. It absolutely involves service. We may not discover what it is until
we are deeply involved in it. Our offering will be enough when, by our nature
and our faith, we rise to fulfill that presented need.
If we serve where ever and
whenever we are called, spontaneously, eagerly and with joy, then surely it
will become part of our nature to do so always. Then we will have become what
he wanted us to be.
“It may not be on the mountain height Or over the stormy sea, It may not be at the battle’s front My Lord will have need of me. But if, by a still, small voice he calls To paths that I do not know, I’ll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in thine: I’ll go where you want me to go.”
(Text: Mary Brown, 1856–1918)
May I add…
I’ll do what you want me to do, dear Lord, Whatever may be your request. I’ll serve with my heart and my soul ’till you say, “My Child, enter in to my rest.”
Our offering becomes enough when we give all we have.
