Neil L. Anderson, Mormon Apostle

I testify to any of you who may stumble on this post, that this is real. This is not fiction. This is not the result of an elected vote of man, but of the Lord Jesus Christ speaking to His leaders who stand at the head of His Church. It “is” on the earth! The plan of salvation is restored. There is truth! There is a way to progress. There is hope. There are answers to life’s questions. I know, for I sought those answers for years, and have found them.

Back to Elder Anderson, a newly called Mormon apostle, or better expressed, apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ.

On of Elder Anderson’s classic talks regards the feeling of being clean. It reminded me of my own experience, which I’ll share afterwards. In his words:

There is no other joy like that of feeling free from sin through the power of the Atonement.

I remember my father awakening me one cold night in early February when I was about sixteen. I remember feeling startled; I had only been asleep about an hour. He explained that a steer from our small farm had gotten through the fence, wandered onto the highway, and been hit by a truck. The animal was dead, and to save the meat we would have to act quickly. The task ahead would prove to be an experience I could never forget.

After we dragged the steer from the road to an open shed with our old tractor, our next task was to hoist the animal up. We tied its hind feet together and then threw the rope over a beam. I remember struggling to get my arms under the animal’s hindquarters and lift as my father pulled. To lift with any effect required wrapping my whole body around the slippery animal. By the time the body was hung, the mud and stench had become ingrained in my clothes. I felt miserable, but our work had only begun.

Together my father and I cleaned the dead animal. We didn’t finish until about three in the morning. The smell, the slime, the dirt, and the filth clung to me.

I went back to the house. Although it has been twenty-five years, the events of the next hour are very vivid in my mind. I remember clearly the satisfaction of removing my shirt. Peeling off each layer of clothing brought relief. I began washing—first my hands, then my arms to the elbows. It was not the kind of dirt that would disappear quickly. Then I showered, first washing the ears, then the hair, back to the hands and fingernails, and to the hair again. It was some time before I felt satisfied that the cleansing was done.

Slipping into a clean pair of pajamas, I lay awake in bed for a while reliving the experience. It was four in the morning. I was exhausted, but the feelings of tiredness did not approach the sensational satisfaction of being washed and clean.

Yet as memorable as that experience was, there are wonderful feelings far surpassing the physical feelings I felt on that cold winter night. I speak of marvelous spiritual feelings that come through the gift of the Savior’s atonement as the layers of sin are washed away and we come to feel spiritually clean.

Sometimes spiritual impressions are simply a nudge.

Standing in Smith’s check-out line after picking up a few groceries early one morning, an impression landed and lit as gently and clearly as a firefly on my hand on a summer’s nite. The thought was this: “Pick up a rose and leave it on Tina’s doorstep.” Though it came crisply and seemed to crowd out other thoughts, I found myself, in a matter of seconds, in quick rebuttle-as if I had something to defend.

“But,” I thought, “there’s not even anyone in the flower department this early.” And I added a second objection: “Tina’s probably not home anyway.” As I engaged in this silent monologue, I realized that I’d nearly trampled the voice I had come to treasure, and I thought, to trust.

I then committed to follow this simple impression. Smiling, I walked over to the flower department, selected a lovely long-stem, some greens, baby’s breath and tissue. I wrapped the flower myself and made a mental tally of the prices of each item. I took my bundle to the register, paid the appropriate amount without any questions, drove to Tina’s and left the rose gently on the doorstep. I rang the doorbell but didn’t linger for a response.

The demands of the day pressed on and I thought little of the single incident until nearly a week later. Inadvertently, I discovered that that the very time the flower was placed on my friend’s doorstep, she was on the telephone with her sister who had just confirmed the doctor’s report. Her sister was diagnosed with a malignant breast tumor. After the phone call, in a difficult emotional moment, my friend went to the door, and there lay the single rose-a rose of love and comfort, an earthly token of Heavenly Father’s awareness of her personal concerns.

Enchiladas
On another occasion, I had a rare impulse to cook and freeze some enchiladas. I decided to make two large batches, without a recipe (I don’t ‘do’ Mexican typically; I ‘do’ Italian!) Just as I was about to freeze the second panful, another thought seated itself in my soul: “Why not give this batch to [Jenny]?” I thought of the phone conversation I’d had with her earlier that morning. She was in the throes of planning a wedding which was just a few days away. “Perhaps a dinner ‘would’ offer her a little respite tonite,” I mused.

Then came the first bucket of water over the gentle, prodding voice, as I quenched it with my objections. [Jenny surely has dinner planned for tonight. She's so organized." And, continuing to rationalize, I added, "Besides, maybe her family doesn't even like enchiladas! On top of that, I haven't even tasted them, and I didn't even follow a recipe." And then came the clincher, "Ugh, this is my ugliest pan! It's the pan I grill in! I can't possibly give them 'this!"" Finally, after several minutes of building my case, I caught myself in the act. I saw every rationalization as a pail of water dampening the Spirit, and I thought of the scripture in Thessalonians, "Quench not the Spirit" (1 Thes 5:19).

I decided to rekindle the voice-acknowledging that the best reasoning is always to follow the Spirit. I dropped off the grungy pan of enchiladas with a little note. And then I resumed my personal affairs.

As I pulled into the garage several hours later, I noticed [Jenny's] van pulling up behind me. I was surprised to see her, in fact, a little startled. Then I noticed her tears. She threw her arms around me and said, “I can’t believe someone would do that for me. I feel so loved. I don’t usually feel overwhelmed like this. It has been so long since I cried the way I did this morning as I laid in bed.”

What if I had neglected to offer Heavenly Father’s gift to these women? My heart spurns the thought. I almost missed those opportunities. God uses us to get those celestial Fed Exes to those He loves. He doesn’t always hand-deliver Himself–though He can. Perhaps my near-misses can alert us and help us to commit more fully to following the promptings we plead for.

Quenching the Spirit
On a third occasion, I actually did quench the Spirit. Notice, again, the simplicity of the prompting, and how easy it is to have reason raid our faith, as the apostle Paul once inferred. I’d borrowed a short book from a friend and read it that evening. My husband read it the next day. I felt a sense of urgency about returning it, and couldn’t figure out exactly why. I’m not typically a fast reader, and I thought that if I returned the book so soon, it might seem that I was trying to make some kind of impression. Still, the feeling to return the book persisted. I hopped in the car intending to drop it off, and realized I didn’t have Toni’s house number. I felt inclined to return to my house and get it, but I dismissed the feeling. I rationalized, “She’s probably at school now anyway.”

The following Sunday I learned that my friend’s mother-in-law had passed away, and that had I returned the book when I felt so compelled to do so, I would have shown up at her door at the time of her death and when my friend needed someone the most. I missed that opportunity.

These few experiences occurred several years ago. There a gazillion each of us could share-many with more visible, lasting effects. I chose these for their simplicity.

Our responsiveness is essential. Hopefully, I’ve improved. I know that the choice to follow the Spirit carries atomic spiritual weight. It has a rippling effect for good that is beyond our immediate vision and capacity to imagine. I know that the voice can be obscured by our own, or by pre-occupation, or by inordinate numbers of meetings. May we listen more to the still small voice. There are many celestial packages hand-wrapped and just waiting to be delivered.