The Good Fight

Yesterday during class, we reviewed Abraham Lincoln's First Inaugural Address. I can't even begin to imagine how frightening it would have been to become the president of the United States when   political tensions and polarized views defining liberty had led the people to the brink of an all-out civil war.  It was supposed to be the "United" States and yet, it was anything but united. Feeling the looming clouds of heated battle, Lincoln desperately tried to ease the anxieties of the South and in the last part of his address as he plead, "I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature."  He was trying to remind the people of who they were: brothers, sisters, neighbors, friends, fellow Americans, and that the fight was for unity, for liberty and not against each another.  Unity would come as we implored "The better angels of our nature," I really love that wording because I believe the majority of people on this earth are good, even if we have opposing or conflicting views.

Fast-forward 155 years and observe the current conversations in today's political arena and I can't help but feel like we're on the brink of another civil war.

My daughter, Kaylee, has a favorite song she asks me to play for her quite often.  It's called The Good Fight by, Unspoken.  A couple of weeks ago, we rented a movie called War Room and Kaylee's face lit up with excitement to hear her song played in the movie.  War Room is a reminder of what the war is really about and who the real enemy is. What is the good fight?  It's not against our brothers and sisters, our children or our spouse, our neighbors or friends... for "we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." (Ephesians 6:12)

In my scripture studies this morning I read the verses in Alma where he exhorts the people to pray in every place and over everything. (34:17-27) and I thought of War Room.  I don't have a closet I can kneel in but I do have a place I can always go with my pleadings.  And when I am not in position to be on my knees in prayer, my "heart is full drawn out" to my Father in Heaven "continually for [the] welfare" of my family and my neighbor's families. (Alma 34:27)

I'm not about to give up in this fight, the good fight: praying and pleading, seeking the Spirit, striving to serve where needed, changing my own heart, and seeking understanding, hoping for the best, trusting in the Grace of my Savior, loving when I'm not loved in return, and sharing truth... I will continue even if I wear out all my days doing so and never see the fruit of my labors.

I'll close my post with this portion of Elder Holland's talk, "However Long and Hard the Road."

-Alicia

"Is it not significant that early in his life Joseph Smith was taught this lesson three times in the same night and once again the next morning? Moroni, quoting the Lord verbatim as recorded by the prophet Joel, said: “I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions:

“And also upon the servants and upon the handmaids in those days will I pour out my spirit” (Joel 2:28–29).

Dreaming dreams and seeing visions. The Lord’s spirit upon all flesh—sons and daughters, old and young, servants and handmaidens. I may be wrong, but I can’t imagine an Old Testament verse of any kind that could have helped this boy prophet more. He was being called into the battle of his life, for life itself, or at least for its real meaning and purpose. He would be driven and hunted and hounded. His enemies would rail and ridicule. He would see his children die and his land lost and his marriage tremble. He would languish in prison through a Missouri winter, and he would cry out toward the vault of heaven, “O God, where art thou? … How long … O Lord, how long” (D&C 121:1–3). Finally he would walk the streets of his own city uncertain who, except for a precious few, were really friend or actually foe. And all that toil and trouble, pain and perspiration would end so maliciously at Carthage—when there simply were finally more foes than friends. Felled by balls fired from the door of the jail inside and one coming through the window from outside, he fell dead into the hands of his murderers at 38 years of age.

If all of this and so much more was to face the Prophet in such a troubled lifetime, and if he finally knew what fate awaited him in Carthage, as he surely did, why didn’t he just quit somewhere along the way? Who needs it? Who needs the abuse and the persecution and the despair and death? It doesn’t sound fun to me, so why not just zip shut the cover of your scriptures, hand in your Articles of Faith cards, and go home?

Why not? For the simple reason that he had dreamed dreams and seen visions. Through the blood and the toil and the tears and the sweat, he had seen the redemption of Israel. It was out there somewhere—dimly, distantly—but it was there. So he kept his shoulder to the wheel until God said his work was finished.

And what of the other Saints? What were they to do with a martyred prophet, a persecuted past, and a hopeless future? With Joseph and Hyrum gone, shouldn’t they have just quietly slipped away also—somewhere, anywhere? What was the use? They had run and run and run. They had wept and buried their dead. They had started over so many times that their hands were bloodied and their hearts were bruised. In the name of sanity and safety and peace, why didn’t they just quit?

Well, it was those recurring dreams and compelling visions. It was spiritual strength. It was the fulfillment they knew to be ahead, no matter how faint or far away." - Jeffrey R. Holland