Psalm of Jesse

DEBATING can be a powerful work of art when done correctly.  Anyone can talk loudly about nothing for ten minutes, but when your words support an argument with fist-slamming evidence that cannot be deflated, a moment of rich victory fills the surrounding air, like a beautiful music chord that sends chills down your spine.

            I had one of these debates recently. It was silent.  It took place within the walls of my own mind, but it was stirring and life changing. 

One night, I found myself caught in a classic tug-o-war between the little devil and angel sitting on my shoulders arguing over spiritual matters.

            The funny thing about religion is how it’s a hard playing field for debate.  You can always throw out the trump card that you’re not supposed to be able to prove it and part of being tested in this life is to rely on faith.  You can take Uchtdorf’s advice, “Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith” and leave the dispute always open, rendering, ready to wrestle again as life throws you another curve ball to test your current level of spiritual strength.

            But my mini angel must have eaten Wheaties for breakfast or cashed in on a video game power-up or something, because my devil was T.K.O.ed by the end of this imaginary spiritual conversation. It felt amazing and so peaceful. I could feel the Holy Spirit wrapping around my heart like a soft blanket.

            It went something like this….

PSALM OF JESSE

-If I were ever to write in scripture 😉-

“O God, if thou art nothing, why am I here? If there is no God, then how?

 … How?

How come I feel someone who loves me looking down as I gaze at the stars?

How do I have this perfect infant in my arms with soft, kissable cheeks and a slow, steady breath sliding in her lungs?

How does our world fit perfectly in the galaxy’s puzzle so it can flourish with life?

How come the missionaries showed up at my work eight years ago on the day I prayed for someone spiritual to sit down and talk to?

How come my mother’s friend left flowers on her porch without knowing she had just found out about the cancer?

How did the rifle jam when a kid teasingly pulled the trigger at my grandmother that he didn’t realize was loaded?

How come my dad felt a hand on his shoulder as a missionary pulling him towards the other room to find his companion unconscious and breathing in leaking gas fumes?

How come in the war my grandpa thought of his mother and decided not to shoot the German soldier in his sights seconds before they surrendered with a white flag?

How come my cousin and I could both feel the presence of our deceased Aunt Dorothy in the sealing room of the temple at the same time?

How did Joseph Smith never give up and claim that he lied about the restored gospel so he could avoid mob attacks, family deaths, jail, and persecution?

How come priesthood blessings throughout my life have mentioned things about my thoughts and struggles that I’ve kept secret to myself?

How come my heart and spirit flows with peace when I read the Book of Mormon?

How come all the miracles, the love, the wonders, the impossible, the unexplainable surround our little, insignificant lives…

…if thou art nothing?”

I have had too many blessings, witnessed too many miracles to ever logically doubt the truth that I know.  I am so grateful for that little angel on my shoulder.  So, so grateful for the seeds planted throughout my life that remind me that I have a Father in Heaven who loves me and that this gospel directs me towards my Savior.