Sabbath Devotional :: Lessons from the Wilderness

Photo via Unsplash license courtesy of Lubo Minar

As I have been studying the account of Lehi’s family in the Book of Mormon this month, I have found myself considering the perspectives of different individuals in the story, imagining myself in their position. Instead of viewing the people as characters that were either heroes or villains, I have been thinking about them as real, complex human beings. This exercise has broadened my perspective and brought me new insights that have helped me apply what I am reading to my own life.

I was moved as I read about Sariah’s struggles as she anxiously awaited the safe return of her sons from their journey to Jerusalem to obtain the brass plates (see 1 Nephi 5:1-6). Sariah had already given up her home and earthly possessions to flee into the wilderness, never to return, and now she was facing the possibility of losing four of her sons. I’m pretty sure I would have been mourning and murmuring, too, in that situation. I can imagine that I would have been filled with fear and anxiety. I probably would have questioned what we were doing and why. I can only imagine the struggle and the wrestling that would have taken place in my soul.

I was struck by something in Nephi’s description of what his mother said after her sons had safely returned:

And she spake, saying: Now I know of a surety that the Lord hath commanded my husband to flee into the wilderness; yea, and I also know of a surety that the Lord hath protected my sons, and delivered them out of the hands of Laban, and given them power whereby they could accomplish the thing which the Lord hath commanded them. (1 Nephi 5:8)

What stood out to me in this verse was the word “now.” Sariah’s proclamation that “now I know of a surety” indicates to me that she didn’t always know with surety. Sariah – the woman who was both a wife and a mother to prophets, the mother that Nephi described as a “goodly parent,” who left her home and earthly possessions to flee into the wilderness with her family at the Lord’s command – was not always sure. She had uncertainties and doubts.

I can recall times in my life when I read this chapter and I thought of it as an example of weakness and failure on Sariah’s part. She should have had more faith. She shouldn’t have complained and murmured. She shouldn’t have doubted. But this time I had a different perspective. I didn’t see Sariah’s struggles or even her complaints as a failure. I saw her as a human, a woman, much like me, struggling in the same ways I imagine I would struggle if I were in her situation. Struggling in the same ways I have struggled in my own personal wilderness. I saw her as a woman of great faith and courage, who endured through intense hardship and continued to exercise faith even while she wrestled with fear, sorrow, uncertainties, and limited understanding.

In addition to reflecting on Sariah’s example, I’ve also been thinking about her sons. Instead of seeing them as either all good or all bad, I’ve been trying to view them as humans who were as complex as the rest of us. Nephi was angry at times, and Laman and Lemuel had repentant moments. But Nephi demonstrated a pattern of continually turning to God, while Laman and Lemuel turned away. Nephi sought after more knowledge and answers, believing that the Lord would make things known unto him (1 Nephi 10:17,11:1), while Laman and Lemuel did not (1 Nephi 15:8-9). Nephi continued to soften his heart, while Laman and Lemuel continued to harden theirs.

We will each have to journey through our own personal wilderness at different times in our lives. In the middle of our wilderness we may feel afraid, alone, or abandoned. We may wrestle with uncertainties and doubts. We will certainly struggle. We may wonder why we must be in this wilderness, and we may long to escape to more comfortable and familiar surroundings. But I have found in my own life that the wilderness provides a rich soil for cultivating faith. It is during our wilderness experiences that we must actively and strenuously exercise our faith muscles. I appreciate the imagery of exercising faith as opposed to simply having faith. “Exercising” indicates intentional, deliberate, repeated action. In our wilderness we can choose to intentionally and repeatedly turn towards God instead of turning away. We can constantly check the state of our heart: Is it open or closed? Soft or hard? We can deliberately soften our heart and open our mind. We can diligently seek greater knowledge and understanding.

One important lesson I have learned from my wilderness is something that Elder Jeffrey R. Holland taught in a 2013 General Conference address titled “Lord, I Believe.” Speaking of the account in the New Testament of the Savior’s encounter with a father who was desperate for his son to be healed, Elder Holland said:

“[W]hen facing the challenge of faith, the father asserts his strength first and only then acknowledges his limitation. His initial declaration is affirmative and without hesitation: ‘Lord, I believe.’ I would say to all who wish for more faith, remember this man! In moments of fear or doubt or troubling times, hold the ground you have already won, even if that ground is limited. In the growth we all have to experience in mortality, the spiritual equivalent of this boy’s affliction or this parent’s desperation is going to come to all of us. When those moments come and issues surface, the resolution of which is not immediately forthcoming, hold fast to what you already know and stand strong until additional knowledge comes.” (Holland, “Lord, I Believe, “April 2013)

In my own personal wilderness, I have wrestled mightily with uncertainties, unanswered questions, and unfulfilled desires. In the times when my faith has felt the most challenged, I have been able to hold on by following Elder Holland’s counsel. In the midst of uncertainties or distress, holding tight to what I know, what I believe, or even what I “desire to believe” (see Alma 32:27), has allowed the roots of my faith to dig deeper into the wilderness soil, anchoring and sustaining me. The branches and stems have continued to reach upwards towards the light, even when the light appears to be blocked by clouds or mists of darkness.

During these times, God has not chastised me for struggling or for having too many questions. Rather, the answers that have come again and again have been reassurances that I am not supposed to have all of the answers, and that, as painful and uncomfortable as it is, this wilderness is providing a rich, nourishing soil for my faith to grow and thrive in. Developing and exercising that faith does not mean that I won’t experience fear or uncertainty. It means finding the courage to take another step when I am afraid and unsure. It means choosing to hold on to belief and hope when I don’t have the answers and can’t make sense of everything. It means continually checking the condition of my heart, checking the direction I am facing, and adjusting as needed. It means “nourish[ing] the tree . . . by [my] faith with great diligence, and with patience, looking forward to the fruit therof” (Alma 32:41).

I invite each of you to consider how you can nourish and cultivate your faith, in whatever wilderness you may be in at this point in your journey, whether your faith feels like a tiny seed or a towering tree.

And because of your diligence and your faith and your patience with the word in nourishing it, that it may take root in you, behold, by and by ye shall pluck the fruit therof, which is most precious, which is sweet above all that is sweet, and which is white above all that is white, yea, and pure above all that is pure; and ye shall feast upon this fruit even until ye are filled, that ye hunger not, neither shall ye thirst. Then, my [sisters], ye shall reap the rewards of your faith, and your diligence, and patience, and long-suffering, waiting for the tree to bring forth fruit unto you. (Alma 32:42-43)