As I pondered Jonah's grateful prayer while "imprisoned" in the dungeon belly, I thought of a talk by Elder Holland, "Lessons from Liberty Jail." It is interesting to me how some of our most miserable experiences can become our most sacred and revelatory moments. In our extremities we pray more deeply, seek more earnestly, and reach more sincerely. Those moments on our knees crying out, we've received answers and promises we can trust completely. We know with certainty that the Lord has heard our prayers thus it makes the place in which we prayed hallowed and sacred ground. I love the way Elder Jeffrey R. Holland describes it:
"In what sense could Liberty Jail be called a 'temple,' and what does such a title tell us about God’s love and teachings, including where and when that love and those teachings are made manifest? In precisely this sense: that you can have sacred, revelatory, profoundly instructive experiences with the Lord in any situation you are in. Indeed, you can have sacred, revelatory, profoundly instructive experiences with the Lord in the most miserable experiences of your life—in the worst settings, while enduring the most painful injustices, when facing the most insurmountable odds and opposition you have ever faced.
In one way or another, great or small, dramatic or incidental, every one of us is going to spend a little time in Liberty Jail—spiritually speaking. We will face things we do not want to face for reasons that may not be our fault. Indeed, we may face difficult circumstances for reasons that were absolutely right and proper, reasons that came because we were trying to keep the commandments of the Lord. We may face persecution, we may endure heartache and separation from loved ones, we may be hungry and cold and forlorn. Yes, before our lives are over we may all be given a little taste of what the prophets faced often in their lives.
But the lessons of the winter of 1838–39 teach us that every experience can become a redemptive experience if we remain bonded to our Father in Heaven through it. These difficult lessons teach us that man’s extremity is God’s opportunity, and if we will be humble and faithful, if we will be believing and not curse God for our problems, He can turn the unfair and inhumane and debilitating prisons of our lives into temples—or at least into a circumstance that can bring comfort and revelation, divine companionship and peace."
I love that part.... "the divine companionship of peace." To me, this peace is the soul at rest. It has let go of the need for every answer, it sees purpose in the pain and no longer tries to kick and beat and wish the heartache away. It hurts... but what can be done about it? It's part of the experience and like a wounded soldier who bravely moves forward one foot in front of the other across the battle lines; he no longer worries about his aching body or whether he'll make it out alive or not, he perfectly trusts that his soul and mission are in the hands of his Creator. His only concern is to remain valiant to the cause, for the duration of the war... however long that means for him. If he dies, he dies... if he lives, he lives... either way, his heart is at peace and he is ready.
"Rest... is the mind at leisure from itself. It is the perfect poise of the soul; the absolute adjustment of the inward man to the stress of all outward things; the preparedness against every emergency; the stability of assured convictions; the eternal calm of an invulnerable faith; the repose of a heart set deep in God. It is the mood of the man who says, with Browning, 'God's in His Heaven, all's well with the world.'" - Henry Drummond
-Alicia
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