I See… Two Prayers

I was perusing through Alma 31 the other day, and stumbled upon two prayers. Both prayers expressed thanks, but one was full of pride and self-righteousness to an amorphous God, while the other was a humble yet passionate plea to a loving, caring Lord for strength, hope, and comfort to face the challenges of evil.  I think most of us know exactly who we are praying to, but when we’ve been so richly blessed, it is tempting to cross that line where when thanking the Lord for all that we’ve been given, we may accidentally fall prey to pride and put ourselves above others who may appear to be of a lower station. It is clear that the wealthy of the Zoramites went down that slippery slope, and ended up creating their own God that fit their lifestyle:

“Holy, holy God; we believe that thou art God, and we believe that thou art holy, and that thou wast a spirit, and that thou art a spirit, and that thou wilt be a spirit forever. Holy God, we believe that thou hast separated us from our brethren; and we do not believe in the tradition of our brethren, which was handed down to them by the childishness of their fathers; but we believe that thou hast elected us to be thy holy children; and also thou hast made it known unto us that there shall be no Christ.

But thou art the same yesterday, today, and forever; and thou hast elected us that we shall be saved, whilst all around us are elected to be cast by thy wrath down to hell; for the which holiness, O God, we thank thee; and we also thank thee that thou hast elected us, that we may not be led away after the foolish traditions of our brethren, which doth bind them down to a belief of Christ, which doth lead their hearts to wander far from thee, our God.

And again we thank thee, O God, that we are a chosen and a holy people. Amen.”

Contrast this with Alma’s expression of Christ-like concern:

"O, how long, O Lord, wilt thou suffer that thy servants shall dwell here below in the flesh, to behold such gross wickedness among the children of men? Behold, O God, they cry unto thee, and yet their hearts are swallowed up in their pride. Behold, O God, they cry unto thee with their mouths, while they are puffed up, even to greatness, with the vain things of the world.

Behold, O my God, their costly apparel, and their ringlets, and their bracelets, and their ornaments of gold, and all their precious things which they are ornamented with; and behold, their hearts are set upon them, and yet they cry unto thee and say—We thank thee, O God, for we are a chosen people unto thee, while others shall perish. Yea, and they say that thou hast made it known unto them that there shall be no Christ.

O Lord God, how long wilt thou suffer that such wickedness and infidelity shall be among this people? O Lord, wilt thou give me strength, that I may bear with mine infirmities. For I am infirm, and such wickedness among this people doth pain my soul.

O Lord, my heart is exceedingly sorrowful; wilt thou comfort my soul in Christ. O Lord, wilt thou grant unto me that I may have strength, that I may suffer with patience these afflictions which shall come upon me, because of the iniquity of this people.

O Lord, wilt thou comfort my soul, and give unto me success, and also my fellow laborers who are with me—yea, Ammon, and Aaron, and Omner, and also Amulek and Zeezrom, and also my two sons—yea, even all these wilt thou comfort, O Lord. Yea, wilt thou comfort their souls in Christ. Wilt thou grant unto them that they may have strength, that they may bear their afflictions which shall come upon them because of the iniquities of this people.

O Lord, wilt thou grant unto us that we may have success in bringing them again unto thee in Christ.

Behold, O Lord, their souls are precious, and many of them are our brethren; therefore, give unto us, O Lord, power and wisdom that we may bring these, our brethren, again unto thee.”

Do you have the heart of a wealthy Zoramite or a humble Alma? Because you won the war in heaven, it’s your choice.

I See... Too Much of a Good Thing

The Gospel teaches moderation in all things. Too much of a good thing is always bad for you, and there is nothing better or worse for you than… Motherhood!  Say what?  Before the townspeople grab their pitchforks and threaten to burn me at the stake for posting propaganda critical of moms on this sacred day of days, please hear me out- then decide if you’ve wasted another Mother’s Day at the Mormon Third Eye. For the record, all past MTE Mother’s Day posts have worshipped women in this role:

http://mormonthirdeye.blogspot.com/2012/05/i-see-file-cabinets-and-superheroes.html

http://mormonthirdeye.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-see-captain-moroni-leading-seal-team.html

http://mormonthirdeye.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-see-heavenly-mothers-day.html

http://mormonthirdeye.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-see-best-scripture-on-motherhood.html

http://mormonthirdeye.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-see-breaking-female-gift-code.html

In a galaxy far, far, away, when I served as a bishop, simply as a natural byproduct of getting to know the ward families, I was given unprecedented access into how they live the gospel.  It was then I noticed a subtle, slightly sinister trend sneaking into too many homes; married moms acting like single moms. Some moms were gradually assuming total control over their families and slowly marginalizing their husband’s divine mandate to “preside over their families in love and righteousness.”

Before we judge too much motherhood too harshly, we must realize that several circumstances beyond a mother’s control contribute to the problem. We have priesthood brethren too preoccupied with careers and hobbies to auction off the right amount of time and attention to be “equal partners” with their wives in leading and teaching the gospel among their families.  For busy dads, it is too temptingly convenient to just turn over running all aspects of family life to their spouse. Why? Because our wives are so capable, organized, and qualified. It is no secret that when it comes to raising families, our wives are our better halves. It would be much more efficient to just let our wives run everything. Combine this with moms wielding yearning, earnest hearts striving to raise a righteous posterity, and it would seem only natural for them to fill the spiritual vacuum created by nominally present but decidedly deadbeat dads.

However, God is not necessarily efficient. He is kind and loving and wants the best for us priesthood brethren, even if it means learning through the challenges of balancing worthy competing interests to follow His “divine design” and assume our responsibilities at home.  If God was efficient, only the smart, bright and organized would be leading congregations, and only clever conversationalists would be teaching Sunday School. He has designed life, however, as a test to face and overcome challenges, and that includes the test of fatherhood. Mothers who take over households rob their eternal mates of critical learning experiences.

I am blessed with a wife who routinely prodded me to act like a father. Probably against her best judgment, she often waited for me to call the kids together for scripture reading and family prayers, and pushed me to read them bedtime stories and personally interview them on Sunday afternoons. This continued even during my short span of double duty working during the day and enduring graduate school at night. I am so grateful that she did not take the easy road and take care of all this herself.

So, mom, on this day of days, we honor you for all you do for our homes, communities, and nations. Our only request is to let dads be dads. 

I See... the Real Reason Why They Lowered the Missionary Age for Women

Ever since October 2012 Conference’s prophetic announcement about lowering the missionary age for men and women to 18 and 19 respectively, the Mormon Third Eye has been immersed in deep retrospection, seeking the logic and inspiration behind it.   Since that time, church leaders have been popularly quoting the scriptural mandate “I will hasten the work in my day,” and teaching fulfillment of that prophecy as spiritual scaffolding behind the announcement that has seemed to energize the gospel teaching effort worldwide. I’m not denying the truth of that the prophecy, just that there may be even more logical, practical purposes behind it. 

It is an often unspoken, yet completely verifiable truth that in the manufactured war of the sexes, not only are women generally more spiritual than men, they also make better missionaries.  I remember  during my Korean missionary days too many decades ago it was common knowledge that the Korean and American sisters were always more productive than Elders. In fact, most of the time it was just downright embarrassing to us, which leads to the real reason why they lowered the missionary age for women. I suspect, yet cannot verify with earthly, man-made measurements, that finally, after “raising the bar” for young men serving missions a little over a decade ago, the Priesthood brethren may have finally started catching up on their levels of righteousness and spirituality, possibly to the point that may actually be just as sincere and dedicated as our Relief Society sisters. Certainly the Lord determined that our conduct and worthiness had improved overall to the extent that now it is only mildly, not egregiously, embarrassing for us to be pitted against the women of the church in the race to the celestial kingdom via bringing souls unto Christ. Or…

The other possibility is that the Lord grew tired of our rampant pride and wanton worldliness, and decided to unleash the inherently inspirational nature of women upon the world to help it recover from the damage we’ve done to the work. Or…

The other out-of-the-box answer, the answer that requires thinking as God thinks, is that it may not be a competition at all. Maybe, just maybe, He thought we were ready to work together, and that we work well together, and that the world was ready for us to work together- perhaps the war of the sexes is over?

I See... the Barbie Doll Perspective

One Sunday morning, as sacrament meeting launched, I sat in my traditional pew towards the back and began my armchair psychoanalyzing of the families settled in in front of me. I found mild entertainment in letting my mind wander throughout the congregation and making ill-informed, snap judgments from my poor perspective.

Then I saw it.  A few pews in front of me sat our ward YW president playing with a Barbie doll!  I couldn’t believe it! I thought to myself, hmmm…. I know that I am fairly old to be a YM president approaching the end of my early 50’s, and our YW president is probably young enough to be my adult daughter, but is she really that young? Young enough to play with Barbie dolls during church? Doesn’t she know that others may be watching her?  Does she even care? What will all the other young women think?  I was stunned.

After being mesmerized by this fascinating drama playing out right in front of me for a few more minutes, I witnessed her casually turn to one side to help one of her children with a quiet toy. It was only then I noticed, from a much different angle now, that she actually held another preschool daughter hidden in her lap who was quietly playing with… a Barbie doll!  It was the same Barbie doll I had mentally accused our YW president of playing with. 

This episode prompted me to think deeper than usual during the rest of sacrament meeting about the importance of perspective. When we view situations from the wrong perspective, we are much more likely to draw faulty conclusions. Maintaining a partial Barbie doll perspective will certainly lead us down paths of jaded judgment strewn with incomplete information and littered with lies.  All I needed to do is wait a few minutes to know who was really holding Barbie. Achieving true perspective of the whole story may require only a little patience and faith. 

I See… Venturing into Enemy Territory

A few weeks ago I ventured into enemy territory.  Sometimes medicine destined to heal you can leave a nasty aftertaste in your mouth. I trusted that my love and dedication to the Y and what it stands for would help me endure my harrowing experience at U of U.

I had to make some unusually thorough preparations before infiltrating the U of U campus and meeting my appointment there.  I had to de-BYU myself; swap out my BYU tie, windbreaker, planner, and anything else bearing a BYU logo on it. I couldn’t give it all up, however; I kept my BYU pen with just the top protruding from my left breast shirt pocket next to my BYU phone, and my BYU watch remained securely strapped on my left wrist.  It was my own stab at rebellion meant to satisfy my inner BYU psyche. I was living dangerously, secretly hoping that someone would call during my visit so that my BYU fight song ringtone would reverberate boldly across campus.

As I walked through the U of U student union building, my senses were overwhelmed with waves of red and large U’s posted everywhere.  I could sense the sheer e-ville and hatred for everything that is good emanating from all directions.  I didn’t know how long I could endure this mental torture- being surrounded by the icons of an academic archenemy.  I would quickly meet my appointment there then immediately depart campus to avoid becoming emotionally stained and crushed by the experience. I would have to take an extra shower to wash off remaining traces of my campus visit.

My time at BYU, however, taught me to keep an open mind and heart, and the Savior commanded us to love our enemy, so I resolved to at least make an attempt to behave and understand. To my surprise, I learned that U of U students and leadership are just like us in many ways; sincere, well-intentioned, and driven individuals that I could relate to, just trying to find their place in our world and culture. The only difference is that they have decided to seek their fame and fortune in a secular, rather than a sacred, environment. The Mormon Third Eye view is that it doesn’t make a difference on who you are, but it can have an effect on who you become.

So… I don’t think I’ll have to wash off any U of U stench. Furthermore,  I took the bold step of authoring this post in the U of U campus visitor’s parking lot, in the heart of enemy territory, just to prove that like the wildflower struggling to grow on the desert tundra, creativity can sprout even from inside University of Utah. 

I See… How to Disembowel a Really Bad Joke

WARNING- THIS IS REALLY POWERFUL MEDICINE! DO NOT APPLY IT TO MATTERS THAT MATTER!

There are very few things worse in life than a really bad joke.  My wife knows this well- she married one. Hmmm… Anyway, at that critical moment, when an extremely clever remark designed to inspire gut-busting laughter is needed, you are instead exposed to a pun so corny and lame it would disappoint even a pack of wild cub scouts.  It is such a bad joke that your conscience demands you do something about it.  But what?

WARNING- THIS WAS WRITTEN ON A PLANE. SOME OF MY BEST MATERIAL WAS WRITTEN ON A PLANE!

The Mormon Third Eye, possessing a superhumanly keen sense of hilarity and natural humor beyond the capabilities of normal Neanderthal man, is also deeply offended by a bad joke, and hence has launched extensive painstaking social networking research focusing on the problem. We are happy to announce that right here, for the first time in the history of the Internet, we have the answer- an answer so seductively simple, that it is no wonder that centuries of court jesters, tavern owners, and politicians looked beyond the mark in seeking a solution. 

WARNING- THIS IS SIMPLE. READ SLOWLY OR YOU’LL MISS IT!

The key to disemboweling a really bad joke – cutting its insides out and rendering it useless for future unsuspecting generations, is to first gently, but boldly with a feigned sense of ignorance, invoke a deathly determined pause, pretentiously stroke your chin and think in imaginary air as if you are pondering a point of universal significance, then quizzically but thoughtfully respond with a probing question- “ummmm wait a moment… that was a joke, wasn’t it?”

WARNING-  ARE YOU IRRITATED YET? THIS POST BY FAR HAS MORE WARNINGS THAN ANY OTHER POST!

Go ahead.  Try it on someone. But be careful.  You’ll find that in almost every case, it is the comedy world’s version of a stun gun.  Searing truth is the mortal enemy of a bad joke. The bearer of the joke will freeze in panic for an eternal moment like a deer in the headlights, then inevitably slink away into the back of the cultural hall. You probably won’t talk to him/her for the rest of the ward party, and she/he better not be your visiting or home teacher, because they won’t be visiting you for a while.

WARNING- THERE ARE NO MORE WARNINGS!

You may think this approach is harsh and heartless. Maybe it is. But just like amoral evil or maniacal dictators bent on world domination or destruction, if you don’t stand up to bad jokes, the memory of its immense ineptitude will consume your conscious days and subconscious nights, and perhaps even force you to watch early morning consecutive I Love Lucy reruns as a desperate attempt to cleanse and reset your humor palate.  Your only hope may be the resurrection, where you may rise with a perfect mind and body that doesn’t remember the exchange.

Good luck!

I See… the Jesus I Like

There are an awful lot of Jesus’s out there. First, there is the Jesus in the LDS Church Bible videos. Then there is Diogo Morgado, the Portuguese actor playing the Savior in the History Channel Bible series.  They are both very inspirational and moving portrayals of Christ and his mission.  I have a nephew who plays the Savior in the Mesa temple Easter pageant. I am personally overwhelmed thinking about the spiritual preparation involved in launching these productions. The big church publishes three different renderings of Jesus- the Del Parson Christ, the Henrich Hoffman Christ, and the Carl Heinrich Bloch Christ. I keep one of each of these in my planner for comfort and companionship.

 Joseph Smith’s Christ was described as “his eyes were as a flame of fire; hair white like the pure snow; his countenance shown above the brightness of the sun, and his voice was as the sound of the rushing of great waters…”

Which one do you like the best?   

My favorite is the one I know personally in my prayers. I don’t what he looks like, but he’s the one that bore the burden of my sins and sorrows in the Garden of Gethsemane so that I could repent and endure to the end if I keep the commandments, follow him in faith and righteousness, and subjugate my will to his. The one that I am eternally indebted to for my life and salvation.  The one who asks me to thank him by serving others.  That one.

I See… Making History

In the world of words, there are two ways to “make history.”  The traditional definition refers to implementing an event so important that the memory of it will linger in the hearts and minds of men long after the moment is gone.  However, regular MTE readers shun the traditional in favor of alternative explanations, and ironically, in today’s mostly alternative world, the traditional IS the alternative. Confused yet? Hang on.  I’ll clear this up by the end of this post.

To the Lord, every event that occurs every second of every day in every life is important. Hence, in his eyes, we make history simply by living. We chose to make history in the pre-earth life when we chose to support our Elder Brother’s choice to be our Savior and Redeemer as part of our Heavenly Father’s great plan of happiness for us.

What common culture remembers now becomes history. Traditionally, we tend to remember the popular and famous but not what is important to the Lord.   How do we account, then, for the history being made by the History Channel’s production and airing of the 10-part miniseries, “The Bible”?


The series, with the final installment being broadcast this Easter evening, has been breaking all sorts of viewership records for cable TV and surprising modern media moguls.  Series producers and actors/actresses are appearing on daytime talk shows, and their glossy interviewers appear puzzled and confused by its popularity. After all, there are no car chases, aliens, zombies, steamy sex scenes, or bloody decapitated bodies!  It’s just the Bible!  What’s the draw?

I suspect that history is being made here because we have stumbled on a rare instance where mass entertainment media is reflecting the peoples’ moral compass instead of trying to shape it.  This must be disheartening to the adversary but encouraging to the Lord.  The hidden majority of Christians who rely on Christ daily for life and salvation are now a popular media demographic.  The alternative has become mainstream.  The Bible has its own share of special effects-worthy moments that entertain, but the serious believer yearns to be inspired.  Whether you will be entertained or inspired will be a part of your own history.

I See… Almost Perfect

300. 300. 300. Why is this number so important? Because it means that the Mormon Third Eye is almost perfect. Almost perfect. Through thick and thin I’ve consistently posted imperfect posts. I’ve been blogging as the Mormon Third Eye for 301 Sundays now, and I’ve only missed one.  Find out why here. 

I suspect that there are many out there who are almost perfect.  They’ve only made a few mistakes that are keeping them from God’s presence in heaven.  Satan rejoices in this concept, but his knowledge lacks wisdom.  He does not want to admit that even when he thinks he wins, he loses, because the great plan of salvation dictates that God turns bad into good, sorrow into rejoicing, and sin into strength through repentance, forgiveness, and the Atonement.   For example, the missing MTE post teaches a lesson of love.

A marvelous dimension of the Atonement is when the Savior forgives, he forgets- completely.  I suspect, then, when he looks at the Mormon Third Eye, he sees 301 posts.  He also sees 300 more on the way, but I’m just taking it a week at a time.

I See… A Visit to Mayberry

The southern country charm of slow town Sheriff Andy and his son, Opie.  Good ole boy Deputy Sheriff Barney Fife quickly fumbling awkwardly with the unloaded gun on his sagging hip holster and pretentiously acting and talking in his signature high-pitched whine like he knows everything.  Aunt Bea and her comfortable home cooking, especially her apple pies.  The fictional, idealized Mayberry was a warm, welcoming, family place designed to emote the enveloping embrace of home. If you took the TV show seriously, you felt like you were home for the next 30 minutes.   

A couple of months ago I drove my adult daughter to her first archery lesson.  She had signed up with blind faith, having no foreknowledge of the facility or the organization that operated it.  We arrived at a narrow, makeshift barn-like structure in the countryside and apprehensively walked through the creaky front door into a very unofficial but homey lobby populated with rustic picnic tables, an impressive collection of old trophies, and an array of classic archery paraphernalia hugging the walls.  An army of upper-middle age women manning the small registration table kindly approached my daughter and showed genuine interest in her interest in archery, as if she belonged to them. Another crew of retired fathers from the same era gently walked her down to the indoor range at one end of the shallow barn and patiently started to explain to her how to hold a bow and line up an arrow. I remember glancing around the barn and sensing an inherent warmth that made me feel comfortable, kind of like visiting the eclectic old garage at my Grandpa’s house.   Life was slow but kind here- the kind of life you rarely meet nowadays in today’s instant, internet world, except in classic movies and old TV sitcoms. 

My mind stumbled for a moment-  Wait a minute?  Where was I? What do they call this place that I have trusted to offer archery lessons to my only daughter?  I quickly scanned the walls for some semblance of identification, stopped on reading the plaque affixed to an old trophy, then smiled with satisfaction- “Mayberry Archers.”  Of course.