Walls

Since the end of high school, I've always been one of great faith and devotion to my religion, and have always carried an immense love for God. I studied my scriptures to the point of the binding losing its strength. I served a mission for thirteen months where I lived and breathed the gospel of Jesus Christ. I was adamant about praying to God day, night, and times in between. I walked the walk, and talked the talk. Why? Because I loved God.
And I still do.
But I've had a minor (okay, quite major) setback.
Up until now, all the experiences I've shared have revolved around my brother's tragic passing--which, understandingly, is the underlying reason for my spiritual withdrawal and every little struggle in between since that horrible day.
My last blog post revolved around my anger towards God for not telling anyone that Christian was struggling and how to help him--and quite frankly, that sent me running far, far away. I began to build walls between me and God, and I most likely did it as a result of being hurt. I receded into a spiritual hole that consisted of nothing but me and darkness. We've become rather close, Darkness and I.
See, when I decided to shut off communication to and from heaven, I've always felt lonely. Sure there'd be times of laughter, and little bits of happiness here and there, but ultimately every inch of sunshine had been hidden behind a great mountain--one that I created as a result of fleeing because of my pain for which I blamed God.
I've fought myself about building these walls to keep God out. After I wrote my previous post, I finally had it with the loneliness and silently cried to myself, "I don't want to feel this way anymore!"
I still haven't prayed. I still haven't read my scriptures. I haven't been to church in weeks.
In all honesty, I felt like I couldn't do any of those things with this anger weighing on my shoulders. It didn't feel right sitting in church and feeling angry at God when I was supposed to be there to worship Him. How could I worship Him when I felt He was to blame for everything going wrong in my life?
Little by little, the walls have come down and I'm beginning to feel guilty for ever blaming Him at all. I'm ready for a reconciliation. I've stopped trying to tell myself to forgive Him because, well, there isn't anything to forgive.
I've still been scared of going back, of putting my trust in Him. But today, I had a boost of confidence. Here's why:
Elder Oaks was a guest speaker at BYU-Idaho's weekly devotional this afternoon, and the words I use won't do justice to the feeling of love I felt emanating from God when he walked in the room.
College students are noisy--especially when there are over two thousand in a single auditorium--but as soon as this apostle walked into the room, it fell silent in mere seconds. We stood out of respect as he entered, and I felt something inside me that I haven't felt in months. I knew in that moment that the spirit was telling me that I am loved by a Heavenly Father who has called this man, among many others, to ensure that I will make it through this life and all my struggles with as much help as possible. Immediately following that inspired thought, I felt that there is no way God doesn't love me if He has provided all the resources He has--His Son being the most vital and precious--for me to find everlasting joy and eternal peace someday. There's absolutely no way.
I've yearned for this feeling when I've attended church and religion classes, but I haven't felt anything as a result of those walls.
I find it no coincidence that just days before I had this experience, I plead with myself to start breaking down the barriers and letting God back in--and instead of calling Him "God", start calling Him by what He is and has always been to me--my Heavenly Father.
This has been the toughest journey to travel, and I know without a doubt that God is there, and He did not allow my brother to take his life out of spite for my family or Christian. I know that God loves all of His children, and He will never leave us even if we turn our backs on Him--which I have been doing.
For months, He has been waiting for me to run back to Him, and tonight, I'm sprinting. For the first time in five months, I'll pick up my own scriptures and read because I want to. For the first time in five months, I'll kneel down and pray because I want to. For the first time in five months, I'll call God by His rightful title and rely more fully on His son's infinite Atonement.
Tonight, I'm grateful for my Heavenly Father.

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When the Promptings Don't Come

Finding it an utter bore after staring at the television for five straight hours, watching the tissues collect in the nearest trash bin, my nose needing to be "snifflled" every few seconds, unwrapping cough drop after cough drop, scrolling through memes on Facebook that seemed to have given back my laughs, I began to think. That's usually what happens when you're sick. You get cabin fever, and your mind begins to race. But if that's not what happens to you, perhaps you aren't human!
A good friend of mine shared some of her thoughts and experiences on following promptings today, which--ironically--prompted the thought: Well, what if the promptings don't come?
I feel like in the Church, we only talk about what to do when we feel prompted, but seldom--if ever--talk about what to do when the promptings don't come.
I haven't yet voiced my frustration about none of my family members receiving promptings to help my brother when he was in his darkest moment before he ultimately took his life. Well, here it is.
We're leading into the sixth month since his death, and the one thing that continues to bother me most about Christian's passing is that God seemed to be absent. Where was He? I find myself beginning to relate more and more to the popular song by The Fray.

Why'd you have to wait?

Where were you? Where were you?

Just a little late.

Sometimes I feel like I'm being suffocated by these very ideas when they pass through my train of thought. Everything was falling apart. Why didn't God tell me to text my brother that morning? Why didn't God tell my mom not to leave the house? Why didn't God tell my dad he needed to come home early from work? Why didn't God tell one of my siblings to stop by the house? Where were the promptings?

I've always assumed since I've been baptized and was given the constant companionship of the holy ghost that in every instance and if I was worthy, something would whisper in my ear, and I could be a hero.

Such isn't the case. In fact, when my older brother called, Corey and I were talking about going to the temple that evening. 

I guess this is what confused me even more. I was so excited for the temple, to be closer to God, only to have my brother ripped away from this life without so much as a little godly intuition that something was wrong. How is that fair? Wasn't I promised to receive promptings?

I received them all the time on my mission like what to say--or what not to say--during a lesson, whose door to knock on, that I needed to come home early, that I even needed to serve in the first place. 

Why would God give me a prompting to knock on a door of someone's home who wouldn't even accept the gospel during the time I was there but refrain from sending my brother any assistance during his time of need?

This is the level of rawness that's been affecting my relationship with what I would refer to as the "almighty God"--quotations inviting sarcasm. The phrase "mighty to save" must have carried a much different denotation.

Of course, I'm working to overcome this spiritual setback with the Man upstairs, and for the most part, I'm beginning to understand just where He was when we were all going about our days as normal while Christian was losing his fight with depression.

As hard as it is to say, my little brother had his mentally ill-stricken mind made up about dying--the pain going away for good--and God can't strip us of our agency. Isn't that why we're here? 

I look back to that day and realize that God was with Christian, and with all of us, but there wasn't necessarily a need for someone to physically rescue him. But I know he was aided by some on the other side of the veil. Perhaps the need for Christian to be helped came from somewhere we can't see. 

The promptings won't always come. 

While God is no respecter of persons, He respects our right to choose. 

When the promptings don't come, don't blame God. Don't blame yourself. When the promptings don't come, know that God was never absent.

When the promptings don't come, know that God is still God and He sees the bigger picture.

The only thing we can do when the promptings don't come is ask ourselves, "What can be learned from this?"

Death doesn't seem at all like a learning experience--especially when it's tragic. But it is.

I have learned in the past year since losing three relatives, close and more distant, how crucial it is for me to accept Jesus Christ as my Savior and Redeemer and follow Him. Because of Him, the Plan of Salvation isn't just a blueprint sitting on a table waiting for its Architect to take action. 

It is in full force, and I couldn't be more grateful for the knowledge it brings that despite what I have previously felt are discrepancies in the Lord's actions regarding my family, He knows what He's doing, and He will reunite us with my brother again.

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