Sabbath Devotional :: Of Bricks and Mortar
In much of the world, Latter-day Saint houses of worship are traditionally constructed of brick and mortar. I believe those two things are a wonderful metaphor for how we serve in our wards.
The bricks we use to build Zion are our callings — the defined jobs we are assigned that allow the gospel to function while simultaneously giving each member purpose and growth. What, then, is the mortar? I believe it is the many small acts of service that individuals perform, often unseen and unbidden, that secure the bricks together. In short, love fills in the cracks and binds us together.
We are all familiar with the bricks/callings that make up a ward. Some callings we love; some we avoid like the plague. And while some seem “more important,” when even one brick is missing we suddenly realize how essential it is. Don’t believe me? Consider the chaos when your 2-year-old’s favorite nursery leader is out sick.
A friend who knows construction taught me that mortar is not a 100% pure substance, but rather a mixture of sand, cement, lime, and other additives, depending on what is needed. So it is with us. There is no one “true” mortar. The gospel blueprints, precise plans laid out by a Master Architect, outline how to build the kingdom. But here on earth, we all connect to Jesus Christ differently and have different brains, different cultures, and different journeys with different rates of progression. So when we minister to each other, there is no “right” way.
This same friend who knows about mortar also knows how to serve. When my father passed away from dementia, she knew just what to do. The day I was flying west for the funeral, she dropped off a brown lunch sack with a simple “I love you” written on it. Inside were breath mints, hand sanitizer, pocket Kleenex, and a few other things (waterproof mascara!) that ended up saving me as I received people at the viewing. Through her practical ministrations, I knew she saw my pain, and this helped fill the cracks of a broken heart. Because of her example, on several occasions I have grief-gifted friends in mourning, prayerfully adding other items that may soothe the bereaved, such as dark sunglasses, bath salts, aloe eye masks, chocolate, and lots of Diet Coke.
What other forms might mortar take? Sometimes it’s writing a letter to a missionary who’s struggling with a difficult companion. Sometimes it’s bringing a casserole to a neighbor whose face you keep picturing when you say your evening prayers. Sometimes it is going out of your way to drive a kid to seminary when you find out he walks the two miles every day, regardless of weather. Sometimes it’s seeking out the excessively chatty convert and just listening. In D&C 82:19 the Lord describes Zion as “every [woman] seeking the interest of [her] neighbor, and doing all things with an eye single to the glory of God.” Regardless of our official callings, every one of us is called to fill in the cracks.
Mortar can fill and seal the irregular gaps between bricks. Sometimes I have been what you might call an “irregular brick” in my callings. Maybe I lacked necessary skills or was too overwhelmed to keep things together or was just indifferent. But my efforts have been made whole by the service and talents of others. Homemaking events on my watch have been beautified by the friend who knows how flowers make things special; young women’s trips under my fun but haphazard planning have been kept organized by mothers who volunteered their spreadsheet skills; some Relief Society lessons I’ve taught have been saved by a kind sister on the third row who knows how to bring the spirit back into a room and make it seem like it was my doing. Mortar can bind, but it can also compensate for weaknesses, make things beautiful, and restore wholeness.
Mortar is the ministering, service, love, and kindness — both within the bounds of our callings and out — that happen on small and large scales within our midst. I am reminded of Ephesians 2:19-22. In the Phillips translation, the apostle Paul writes: So you are no longer outsiders or aliens, but fellow-citizens with every other Christian — you belong now to the household of God. Firmly beneath you is the foundation, God’s messengers and prophets, the cornerstone being Christ Jesus himself. In him each separate piece of building, properly fitting into its neighbor, grows together into a temple consecrated to the Lord. You are all part of this building in which God himself lives by his Spirit.
As a new year begins, may we recommit ourselves to the many roles we play in building up the kingdom. We are all part of the construction of the Church, using scripture, revelation, and priesthood to erect a structure that, at its best, provides us with spiritual shelter and becomes an institution of instruction, healing, and growth. In addition to striving to be better in our callings, let us take time to see the spaces between. Because sometimes the best way to build Zion is to heed the quiet callings of the Spirit that bind us together as one.
Heather Sundahl is a member of Mormon Women for Ethical Government.
