I often wonder why I never gave up on the gospel while I was going through my anger phase for roughly six months. Although I didn't have burning questions about the history of the Church, or whether Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ or made it all up, I am still confused as to why I didn't leave when I was so angry with God.
This was a thought that entered my mind while the spirit was tormenting me during sacrament meeting to bear my testimony, but I declined to do so. Why?
This is still of a very personal nature to me as I tackle head-on my challenges with Heavenly Father--although, they were never with God, but with His opponent.
However, I digress.
I didn't follow the prompting to bear my testimony because I simply am not ready. The Lord may know I am, but I don't yet. I'm just not there. I'm not at the point where I can vocalize my thoughts, but only translate them into writing.
I have never thought as promptings as "little commandments" but instead, I have always seen them as the Lord giving me opportunities to make changes whether in myself or instill impressions in others. I didn't take that opportunity to change anything in that meeting, and maybe I should have, but I feel more comfortable doing it from this outlet for the time being.
Instead of walking up to the pulpit, I allowed the spirit to fester, and I pondered the strength and position of my testimony. I thought about how it was possible that I stayed in the gospel when I didn't want God to be part of my life after "what He did". Why did I still listen to the prophet? Why did I still admire the temple? Why did I still pick up my scriptures from time to time?
It just didn't make sense to me.
Allowing time for meditation during sacrament meeting today gave me an opportunity to reflect, and put the pieces together.
I stayed because Jesus Christ is my foundation.
Because I didn't care to see to my testimony being nourished during this time, each building block of my testimony got a crack or two, but my foundation remained in tact. With a solid foundation, it was more difficult, near impossible, for Satan to break my tower of faith.
Instead of having to build my testimony again, I just needed to mend it. By having a sure foundation, the blocks didn't crumble, and I was more easily able to simply mend the cracks--of course with the help of the Savior through His Atonement.
I think all too often we give up too quickly. Perhaps had I allowed the anger to fester longer my foundation might have crumbled eventually leaving nothing but spiritual dust. But I saved my own testimony in time before the destruction could have transpired. I am so grateful for that.
I find it interesting that, for me, my problem was with God, yet I still trusted His son--and it literally makes no logical sense because God is the one who sent Christ out of pure love for His children.
This just serves as a testament to me that I am too vulnerable as a mortal to just choose to walk away when I have a spiff with some part of the doctrine, or in my case, a person. I cannot bring myself to do so because I know I would be making the wrong choice--even if my relationship with God is or was weak.
Jesus truly does save.
He saved me from choosing the wrong path. He saved me from abandoning my worth as a daughter of God. He saved me from the torment I would have experienced for the remainder of my life from throwing away the hope of a life after death, or that eternal families is a true principle stemming from his earthly ministry. He saved my testimony. He saved me from deserting the one pure thing in my life: the gospel.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is the only thing that can bring everlasting peace.
The road has been so incredibly rocky since last summer, but despite the ditches and the bumps, Christ has been there through it all. He knows me personally, and because of this, He understands exactly how to succor me.
Although it was a process, I'm there.
The cracks are mended, and not with glue. The cracks are literally gone.
I'm beginning to feel more like who I was before it all went wrong. I'm beginning to see the joy in my demeanor when I get ready in the morning. I'm beginning to acquire that fire I left behind at the onset of my grief.
The cracks are mended, and I am changed.
