Sabbath Devotional :: Come, Come Ye Saints

Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear;

But with joy, wend your way.

Though hard to you this journey may appear,

Grace shall be as your day.

A few weeks ago I had the privilege of participating as a Ma on a trek with our stake. I must admit that I hadn’t approached this assignment as a privilege, but rather an obligatory chore. I wasn’t looking forward to wearing voluminous clothing and slogging along old rail paths in the humid New England heat with a bunch of teenagers. The privilege part snuck up on me.

My focus going in had been on the discomfort and work, which is understandable. Teenagers are definitionally sources of discomfort and work, and so is New England humidity, and so are pioneer skirts and bonnets, and so is a giant handcart loaded with almost 900 pounds of stuff. It’s also true to our traditional pioneer narrative. A story of struggling saints plodding hungry and cold across plains, burying beloved children in graves dug with spoons, and walking with mobs at their back toward an unknown Zion.

But the trek was a joy and a privilege. And while I am grateful that I eventually came to that conclusion, there was no reason that I couldn’t have felt that way going into it. My father was a renowned church historian and frequently reminded us that our traditional view of the pioneer journey was incomplete and flawed. Pioneer children (and adults) really did sing as they walked, and they did dance and play. Most were well fed, undertook the journey by choice, and were fit and healthy and happy, They walked with friends and family and every day brought them optimistically closer to a new and better life. Many spoke of that period of migration as one of the happiest and most purposeful in their lives. He told us of the pioneer legacy; the witness that our greatest joys would not be found in comfort and ease, but in hard moments when we worked alongside other saints to build the Kingdom.

Right now I feel like we have a bit of a national migration ahead of us and it is easy for me to become discouraged as I see the situation through a lens of pain and discomfort and work. Our situation isn’t pretty, and we all need to decide as individuals whether we are going to put the mobs at our back and our face toward Zion. Most of you are reading this because you have made that optimistic choice and want to work to make something better for yourself and other children of God.

But it is easy to see the migration before us as frightening and feel the desire to live in simpler times when things were clearer. When all we had to do was walk. So in the last few weeks since trek, I have been looking for ways to find joy in my own period of migration. Here is what I have found:

A strengthening sense of purpose that the women of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were indeed put on the earth for such a time as this. We understand community, we have hearts open to the suffering of our Heavenly Parents’ children, and we have a powerful protective sisterhood.
Overwhelming awe at the skills, talents and gifts I see the women of MWEG putting to good use in defense of ethical government and public peace. We are not to be underestimated. (But we will be, which gives us the element of surprise!)
An abiding witness of the atoning power of Christ. As we wade into the fray and become burdened with an increased exposure to the sins and sorrows of the world, we have a recourse that others do not. As followers of Christ we can turn to our Savior and ask him to lighten our burdens and make us, like Him, “mighty to save.”

I am trying to focus less on the discomfort and work. Politicians are definitionally discomfort and work, and so is partisanship, and so are racial injustices, and so is the giant pile of information that comes at us hourly. But I believe that as the women of MWEG we can leverage the gospel of Jesus Christ to change our traditional civic narrative. We can link arms with one another, speak with the power of peace, and gather people into our migration as we walk with mobs at our back toward an unknown Zion. If we do this well, we will be able to feel that it is a privilege to be participants and have hearts filled with gratitude as we walk. And we will find joy in the journey.

Gird up your loins; fresh courage take.

Our God will never us forsake;

And soon we’ll have this tale to tell-

All is well! All is well!