The Mantra

I sit down for a spiritual interlude with a recently DVR'd BYU devotional and, with a stab of disappointment, realize it's by Elder Scott. Elder Scott's not my favorite GA. Too cloyingly sweet for my taste, and I voice same to the Lord and receive a sharp rebuke by the spirit.

Wo! That surprises me. Whenever I'm doing anything worthy of a rebuke, which is often, I don't have the spirit at all. This is a rare event. In fact, I don't remember it ever happening before.

I sit up straight with eyes wide. Ok, ok! I get it. I'll give him the respect and attention he deserves. The spirit confirms that this is the right decision.

His talk centers primarily on Alma 7:23:

“And now I would that ye should be humble, and be submissive and gentle; easy to be entreated; full of patience and long-suffering; being temperate in all things; being diligent in keeping the commandments of God at all times; asking for whatsoever things ye stand in need, both spiritual and temporal; always returning thanks unto God for whatsoever things ye do receive.”

That's one of those verses containing the entire ten commandments in a single sentence, one which you read quickly through without trying to comprehend every clause because you're trying to get through 4 pages in ten minutes. “Yes, that's Book of Mormon language, alright. Beautiful... I think.”

It takes an entire BYU devotional to explain it all, phrase by phrase.

Did I understand Elder Scott? Be humble, be submissive and gentle, easy to be entreated.... What's that mean? Easily entreated? “Please, sir, can you spare a dollar?” “Hello, little sister. No I can't. I saw you on Channel 2 News where it was suggested that your claim to being homeless is a bald-faced lie....” Does that qualify? If I say it with loving kindness? Hm.... full of patience and long suffering.... All those qualities which are completely incompatible with my personality, but totally compatible with Elder Scott's.

Ok, I've got some work to do here, Lord. A little help would be helpful. Only God can change one's basic nature. That's what C. S. Lewis says. It's also what our evangelical, born-again Christian friends say. Not to mention the atonement. The parable of the bicycle and all. Ok, Lord. I'm ready for my basic nature to be changed. I'll try to cooperate with the process. Please let me know what, when, and how. It's in your court. Isn't it?

New mantra: humble, submissive and gentle, easily entreated, full of patience and long-suffering. Humble, submissive, gentle, entreat, patience, long-suffering. Humblesubmissivegentle....

And I'm parked at Smith's, a huge SUV next to me. The only way to get out of here is to check to make sure no one is behind me then slowly back out to where I can see around this SUV and make sure it's safe to back out further. Someone lays on their horn with a resounding bellow that reverberates for a totally unnecessary eternity. I show great restraint by laying on my own horn for a mere half as long as he did.

Be humble, submissive and gentle, easy to entreat, full of patience and long suffering. Be humble, submissive, gentle, entreat, patience, long suffering.

I follow him out of the parking lot.

Humble, submissive, gentle....

He turns down 33rd.

...patience, long suffering. I could use some help here, Lord. Humble, submissive....

He turns into the outside lane. I immediately pull over into the inside lane, planning to pass him.

...gentle, entreat...

I get some passing help. He comes to a sudden stop behind a line of a half dozen cars. Someone's having trouble making a right turn. I zoom past him, fully prepared to glare it him... in a humble, submissive way, of course.

And I catch a side-view glimpse of a little man with sparse white hair, a few strands of which are sticking straight up as though wave-set into that position. A web of skin drapes from the tip of his chin to his Adam's apple. His hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly that I can almost see his white knuckles from here. His mouth is open wide and so are his eyes staring at the car in front of him, and his look says, “What's happening?! The whole world is conspiring to get me! I just want to get home! I'm not sure I'm going to survive! Oh, me! I'm not going to make it! I'm not going to make it!” And my heart melts. I want to take him in my arms and tell him, “It's OK. It's OK. There, there. You're going to be fine. God loves you, little man... and so do I.”

Mantra, aside, God does help. We are works in progress.