Burnt Offerings or Lighting Candles
From the time I was very little, my father constantly shared his favorite scripture. I don't know it word for word (he often misquoted it), but it's from 1 Samuel (15:22).
And Samuel said, Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams.
The point of the verse is that the Lord values strict obedience over flashy repentance. We've all heard the common aphorism "it's easier to receive forgiveness than permission" (I, for instance, heard it from the same dad who misquotes Samuel). It might be easier, but it is not the same to God. In this instance, disobedience (despite flashy repentance) had serious and permanent consequences for Saul.
So I go to church. A lot. I probably enjoy it more than most people. I want to learn more about the Savior, and to strengthen and be strengthened by people who have similar struggles.
I've had one or two crises of faith in the last year, mostly about the difference between how I believe the Lord judges us, and how the people around us (especially at church, when we should know better) judge us. Yesterday I had another frustrating experience. During our main meeting, no small amount of time was diverted by the lay speakers from praise of the Lord or exposition of doctrine to praise of a member of the congregation.
This member of the congregation does a lot of flashy service. He likes to show off. But I have noticed a few things: he shows off specifically only when certain people are watching. He likes attention from people in positions of responsibility. He seeks out the visibly handicapped and spends his energy on them. He helps people when it makes him feel better about himself.
How do I act when nobody is watching? This too is an important part of my character.
This member of the congregation, so praised by our leaders, has been my home teacher since last Summer. That means that once a month he's supposed to visit me and see how I'm doing, and maybe deliver a spiritual message. No home teacher is perfect. Most miss a month or two or three every year. This home teacher has not visited me once. Not ever. He texted me once, though, three months ago.
Before he was assigned as my home teacher, he was assigned to one of my roommates, a "friend" of his. He didn't visit her either. And of course there are all the stories of small cruelties, begrudging assistance, and ill-naturedness that we endeavor to forget.
We're all just people. We're as susceptible to flattery and attention as anyone else. We like our echo chambers and mutual admiration societies. These are part of that old cliche, the "comfort zone."
But I know this extraordinary woman. I was HER visiting teacher for a few months. Imperfectly. But she has never failed in a kind word whenever we meet and even when we don't. I regret my selfishness and carelessness, but she has never expressed even the smallest criticism. And she still spends time with me much more often than I think she wisely can. I have never experienced so much generosity.
Of course I am biased when I compare them. One of them pays attention to me, and the other ignores me, and that's not a valid basis for judging anyone. But I have nothing but empirical evidence - my own experience - as a basis for deciding how I want to be towards others.
And so I continue with my conviction, given to me by my father and affirmed by my friend, that it is better to be quietly obedient, and forgiving, and generous. I can practice the organ more, so churchgoers can sing the hymns without as many distracting mistakes. Nobody will ever know (except that I talk about it a lot. I talk too much. *sigh*). I can do my visiting teaching regularly, and with love. I can pray for people. I can leave kind notes for my roommates, and be more positive when I write letters. I can remember names. I can return visits, even by bus.
I see so many amazing people who quietly go about the Work of the Lord. They don't always get prestigious callings. They don't often hear their names over the pulpit. But their influence is a deeper sort. No amount of money or power or fame or popularity can supplant the light and love spread by those who obey without the expectation of reward: who do good for the sake of goodness, and for love of the Savior. I want to be like that, because the best way I can think of to honor the quiet service done to me is to make that light spread a little further. If I can.
For Saul, both the obedience and the sacrifice were loud and colorful, about power and prestige. He's a king: everybody's watching. I'm small, but Samuel reminds me that I cannot choose my favorite commandment for the popularity of it and neglect the Work I have been asked to do, however unpleasant or unseen. Fortunately, most tasks are quite pleasant, and bring other rewards.
Maybe it's a Mary and Martha thing. But I am strong enough to be Martha. And maybe complain a little less.
And Samuel said, Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams.
The point of the verse is that the Lord values strict obedience over flashy repentance. We've all heard the common aphorism "it's easier to receive forgiveness than permission" (I, for instance, heard it from the same dad who misquotes Samuel). It might be easier, but it is not the same to God. In this instance, disobedience (despite flashy repentance) had serious and permanent consequences for Saul.
So I go to church. A lot. I probably enjoy it more than most people. I want to learn more about the Savior, and to strengthen and be strengthened by people who have similar struggles.
I've had one or two crises of faith in the last year, mostly about the difference between how I believe the Lord judges us, and how the people around us (especially at church, when we should know better) judge us. Yesterday I had another frustrating experience. During our main meeting, no small amount of time was diverted by the lay speakers from praise of the Lord or exposition of doctrine to praise of a member of the congregation.
This member of the congregation does a lot of flashy service. He likes to show off. But I have noticed a few things: he shows off specifically only when certain people are watching. He likes attention from people in positions of responsibility. He seeks out the visibly handicapped and spends his energy on them. He helps people when it makes him feel better about himself.
How do I act when nobody is watching? This too is an important part of my character.
This member of the congregation, so praised by our leaders, has been my home teacher since last Summer. That means that once a month he's supposed to visit me and see how I'm doing, and maybe deliver a spiritual message. No home teacher is perfect. Most miss a month or two or three every year. This home teacher has not visited me once. Not ever. He texted me once, though, three months ago.
Before he was assigned as my home teacher, he was assigned to one of my roommates, a "friend" of his. He didn't visit her either. And of course there are all the stories of small cruelties, begrudging assistance, and ill-naturedness that we endeavor to forget.
We're all just people. We're as susceptible to flattery and attention as anyone else. We like our echo chambers and mutual admiration societies. These are part of that old cliche, the "comfort zone."
But I know this extraordinary woman. I was HER visiting teacher for a few months. Imperfectly. But she has never failed in a kind word whenever we meet and even when we don't. I regret my selfishness and carelessness, but she has never expressed even the smallest criticism. And she still spends time with me much more often than I think she wisely can. I have never experienced so much generosity.
Of course I am biased when I compare them. One of them pays attention to me, and the other ignores me, and that's not a valid basis for judging anyone. But I have nothing but empirical evidence - my own experience - as a basis for deciding how I want to be towards others.
And so I continue with my conviction, given to me by my father and affirmed by my friend, that it is better to be quietly obedient, and forgiving, and generous. I can practice the organ more, so churchgoers can sing the hymns without as many distracting mistakes. Nobody will ever know (except that I talk about it a lot. I talk too much. *sigh*). I can do my visiting teaching regularly, and with love. I can pray for people. I can leave kind notes for my roommates, and be more positive when I write letters. I can remember names. I can return visits, even by bus.
I see so many amazing people who quietly go about the Work of the Lord. They don't always get prestigious callings. They don't often hear their names over the pulpit. But their influence is a deeper sort. No amount of money or power or fame or popularity can supplant the light and love spread by those who obey without the expectation of reward: who do good for the sake of goodness, and for love of the Savior. I want to be like that, because the best way I can think of to honor the quiet service done to me is to make that light spread a little further. If I can.
For Saul, both the obedience and the sacrifice were loud and colorful, about power and prestige. He's a king: everybody's watching. I'm small, but Samuel reminds me that I cannot choose my favorite commandment for the popularity of it and neglect the Work I have been asked to do, however unpleasant or unseen. Fortunately, most tasks are quite pleasant, and bring other rewards.
Maybe it's a Mary and Martha thing. But I am strong enough to be Martha. And maybe complain a little less.
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