Sabbath Devotional :: Exponential Blessings

*Holding Holy Things (Sister of Jared) by Caitlin Connelly*

Remember how the brother of Jared followed heavenly instructions to create his unusual boats? But he recognized a design flaw: how to provide the travelers with light. The Lord explained why the Jaredites couldn’t have windows or use fire, but instead asked the brother of Jared, “What will ye that I should prepare for you that ye may have light when ye are swallowed up in the depths of the sea?” (2:25).

It is intriguing to me that the Lord would provide detailed instructions for these barges, and yet allow a major element of their usage to be up to human ingenuity to solve. The brother of Jared did his best to come up with the answer. He didn’t just pick up some rocks nearby: he climbed a mountain of exceeding height, and “did molten out a rock sixteen small stones and they were white and clear, even as transparent glass” (Ether 3:1). I know nothing about making clear stones, but hiking a really tall mountain and needing chisels and refining fire for that process seems like it would be a lot of work.

Yet even the glass stones were not sufficient. Great effort produced them, but the brother of Jared knew he needed the transforming power of the Lord to turn them into light. He prayed: “And I know, O Lord, that thou hast all power, wherefore touch these stones with thy finger, and prepare them that they may shine forth in darkness. . . Behold O Lord we know that thou art able to show forth great power, which looks small unto the understanding of men” (Ether 3:4-5). Then, the Lord not only touched the stones one by one, the Light of the world creating light for the world, but he appeared to the brother of Jared in a transcendent experience.

While teaching early-morning seminary a few years ago, I had a powerful experience with exponential blessings, the idea that the Lord will magnify our small efforts into something extraordinary, that gave me a glimpse into that story. I had had a really lousy night and woke with a headache. It was a student’s birthday, so I had set the alarm extra early to make cinnamon rolls to celebrate. What was worse, seminary was even earlier than usual due to Daylight Savings that day. Even though I’m generally a decent cook, the rolls were a complete disaster. They wouldn’t rise, and were so dismal looking that I didn’t even bake them. I had nothing to take to class. I arrived at the church in darkness and tears — I had tried and failed. To compound the discouragement, the lesson that day was on 3 Nephi 11 and I felt like it should be an especially spiritual day teaching about Jesus visiting the Nephites, but I was not feeling like the lesson would succeed.

As I walked into the church building, the teacher of the other class popped her head into my room and said, “Hey, I baked an extra tray of cinnamon rolls for your class!” She offered me enormous, perfectly frosted cinnamon rolls. It was a glorious sight. My tears continued for a new reason. (This never happened before or after, that she shared treats with me.) It was like the Lord took my stones and touched them with his finger, or took my pathetic efforts and blessed them into something worthy — but I still had to press forward in darkness and sorrow until that blessing came at the perfect time. If I hadn’t tried, the gift would not have mattered as much. For me, this was a real life lesson on sanctification, the Atonement’s power, and the hand of the Lord in our daily lives. Miracles take someone else’s power and efforts beyond our own. This experience meant so much to me — yet it was just treats for sleepy teens. Think how much other efforts in our lives, that seem futile now, will someday prove beyond wonderful as we see the Lord’s sanctification of them.

Jesus multiplied efforts exponentially in other ways during his earthly ministry. All four Gospels record the story of the five loaves and two fishes miraculously feeding multitudes of thousands, with baskets left over. Yet someone had to make and bring those homemade loaves, and catch those two fish, and offer them to Jesus in order to create the miracle. They were hungry and yet still opted to share their meager amount with their neighbor. Like those humble offerings of food, Jesus also does this with our lives — taking poor unlearned fishermen and us to create a kingdom of saints.

I think of our personal and collective MWEG strivings in similar ways. We are small, but our efforts will be enlarged. Often we feel despair, driving in the darkness — like we got up early, did everything we could, and still ended up with just a mess. And we have so little power on our own, it can feel like things personally and globally are going terribly wrong, and we wonder how we’re going to get light. Yet the message remains: it still matters that we put in the effort, and God is here for us and will magnify that effort in miraculous ways. I am constantly inspired by this scripture: “Therefore, that we should waste and wear out our lives in bringing to light all the hidden things of darkness, wherein we know them; and they are truly manifest from heaven — These should then be attended to with great earnestness. Let no man count them as small things; for there is much which lieth in futurity, pertaining to the saints, which depends upon these things. You know, [sisters], that a very large ship is benefited very much by a very small helm in the time of a storm, by being kept workways with the wind and the waves. Therefore, dearly beloved [sisters], let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed” (D&C 123: 13-17).

We are putting forward our stones, our loaves, our fishes, and our failed cinnamon rolls, and asking the Lord to shine his light and miraculous power on our mortal efforts. He will multiply that exponentially.