Just Breathe

16 Monday Jan 2017

Posted by Colby Alexander in Battle, Failure, Fundamentals, General, Journeys, Motivation, Patience, Success, Weakness

In November of last year, for reasons beyond my comprehension, I decided that I was going to try and do a triathlon. That rash decision was a direct result of me being shown up big time by my little brother Tyson. He had just finished a full Ironman triathlon, and made it look easy.

As has been well documented in this blog, competition among us brothers has always been, and will probably always be, in the forefront of our relationships. Let’s at least try and call it “healthy competition”. We push each other to be better. Or, we push ourselves to try to be as good as the other guy. This triathlon thing though….?

Last time I wrote about this, I described the initial attempts I had made in the swimming pool. These initial forays trying to swim didn’t go smoothly. They instead made me feel more like I was in that Gravity movie with George Clooney and was spinning out of control in a punctured space suit, hurtling and cartwheeling towards the black abyss of outer space. Tyson had warned me about that and kept saying that I would eventually get it. But it wasn’t happening very quickly.

When trying to swim the right way, or trying to emulate the way the real swimmers do it, you have to alternate breathing by turning your head either left or right, while you are pulling your way through the water. All this while your head is probably halfway submerged in the water. The official way to do this is during every third stroke. Thats how they teach it on youtube anyway, and thats where I learn to do everything.

If I wanted to be a good swimmer, I was supposed to take a stroke with my right, left, then quickly inhale a breath while turning my head to the left on the third stroke. I was then supposed to repeat and alternate ad nauseam until I either passed out, drowned, or made it to the other side of the pool. The pros make it look easy, but its not. Its not, because swimming is a very “aerobic” exercise in a very anaerobic (underwater) environment.

For the first several months I made small improvements. I went from an initial limit of around 100 meters, to being able to go to almost 400 meters without stopping to perform life saving measures. That may seem nice, but when you consider the length of the swim on a “half” ironman triathlon is 1.2 miles or 1,930 meters it puts a damper on your excitement. It makes you feel like you have to clean the entire bathroom with only a toothbrush, and only using your teeth. Not pretty. I started to see myself as being the only one needing to swim with Dora the Explorer arm floaties during the triathlon.

I was pretty discouraged, I couldn’t seem to be able to build up enough endurance to even sniff what I was supposed to be able to do. I would go to the pool almost every single day, and the same thing would happen. I’d swim 450 meters, nearly pass out, get nauseous, and see stars for the next 3 hours while I recovered on the couch (which was not exactly getting me prepared to bike for 3 hours, then run for an hour and a half immediately after I swam).

It was about this time that a timely phone call to Tyson changed everything. We were talking about techniques and things, and he passively mentioned that he took a breath every other stroke, not every third. I decided to try out this super secret, highly advanced technique of breathing more often instead of tempting death and nearly drowning each time I entered the pool. It turned out that breathing more often was a good idea. Funny. So I guess if you’re suffocating under water, breathing more often is helpful. Why didn’t I think of that?

The next time I went to the pool, I tried it. I took off, and took a nice deep breath every other stroke, and kept going. I passed my old record of 500 meters, and kept going. I passed 750 meters and kept going, then 900, and all the way to 1000 meters. I stopped only because I had to pinch myself and make sure it was real. It was. I shook my head and wondered again why I hadn’t previously thought of breathing more when I was out of breath. It was just that simple.

The next day, I decided to see just how far I could go, and made it to 2000 meters without stopping. I just laughed at myself to think that such a simple change had made such a drastic improvement in what I was doing. I decided that every “how to swim” video on youtube should have Pearl Jam singing the theme song, “Just Breathe”.

As I contemplated this improvement, and as I was swimming for those longer training days in the pool, I kept thinking about how much better my life was now that I had a steady supply of oxygen, or breath. I thought about the similarities of having enough “breath” in all the aspects of my life. I thought about the significance of spending one day a week concentrating as much as possible on the good things in life, my Savior, and the gospel. It reminded me of how Sundays, and everyday really, could be that breath of fresh air.

Sometimes its easy to get caught up in trying to do to much of our everyday stuff, that we seldom take the time to spiritually breathe. We are here on this planet for a purpose. That purpose is not to make the most money, have the best toys, or be the most successful in our chosen field. We are here to learn to be like God.

He puts us here for that reason alone.

As I have been through my daily, weekly and yearly routines, I have been guilty of trying to tough it out for too long without taking a breath. I have struggled to make it even a few hundred meters before I felt like I couldn’t keep going. I was seemingly doing the right things, I just wasn’t “breathing” often enough.

Our physical bodies need oxygen to survive and function. Our spirits also need constant spiritual oxygen for nourishment. When its continuous, it feeds us in a way that enables us to continue progressing and we become stronger and stronger. We become a smoother swimmer so to speak. We feel more comfortable, excited, and familiar with our purpose on earth. If we go too long without it, we tend to struggle, and sometimes find ourselves on the couch seeing stars.

Every day I should be breathing in the lessons taught in the scriptures, praying, and thinking about my real purpose on this planet, and taking in big deep breaths with my spirit. It makes a difference. If I do it daily, as the “professional swimmers” have counseled us to do, I will have plenty of spiritual oxygen for endurance.

Breathing gives us life. It sustains our mortal lives, but the frequent breathing in of spiritual oxygen is just as critical to our spiritual survival and endurance. After all, thats really the hard part, enduring to the end.

“The Spirit of God hath made me, and the breath of the Almighty hath given me life.”
–Job 33:4

Cappuccino, Coke, and Courage

11 Sunday Dec 2016

Posted by Colby Alexander in Battle, Faith, General, Motherhood, Testimony

≈ Leave a comment

“If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.”
-John 7:17

When I was 16 years old, I was invited to play on an all-star baseball team along with several other kids from Utah county. I didn’t really know the other guys that well, but we had a really good team and we started to become friends over the few weeks we were together. The team was put together to compete in an all-star tournament in Salt Lake. Even though we had only recently been put together as a team, we somehow won the whole thing. Because we won, we advanced to the regional tournament. Lucky for us, it was in Arizona. Yuma, Arizona. In July.

So, we had a road trip. We piled in together in a couple of big vans, and hit the road. The logical place to stop halfway from Utah county to Yuma was, of course, Las Vegas. The coaches got us checked into our rooms, and left us there. The slots, or blackjack tables must have been calling. Now, as you can probably imagine, 15 teenage boys left on their own about a mile from the Vegas strip with 14 hours before the vans left again for Arizona was mischief waiting to happen.

We were set to leave for Yuma early the next morning, but 15 year olds don’t usually sit and read books in hotel rooms, so we put all of our teenage brain cells together and decided to take in the sights.

After a few minutes, we left and walked all through the night, up and down the strip, seeing the sights, walking through the Caesars palace mall, and soaking it all up. After several hours, we were exhausted. I still don’t know who, if anyone really, came up with that brilliant idea, but It wasn’t a good one. And, unfortunately, I just went along with the crowd.

About 5 a.m. we finally realized we were super tired, and someone decided that rather than sleeping, we just needed caffeine. So we stopped at a small fancy coffee shop in Caesars Palace somewhere. I sat there staring at the menu not knowing really what I was doing. I remember feeling way out of place.

What was I supposed to order at a coffee shop anyway? Well, coffee is what you order at a coffee shop. And so, one by one, every one of the other players who were with me ordered a cappuccino. Apparently it’s stronger than coffee, so it was perfect for anyone who happened to have stayed up all night walking.

I found myself in a spot I had never really been in before in my entire 16 years. I had never been offered a drink, a cigarette, or anything else that was against the Word of Wisdom. Peer pressure wasn’t really something I had ever dealt with either. I knew a good Mormon kid wasn’t supposed to drink coffee, tea, or cappuccino, even if I did stay up all night.

I sat there and had to decide if I was going to go along with everyone else who had already ordered or do what I had been taught. I had to decide for myself. Mom and Dad weren’t there, the bishop wasn’t there, no one who really knew me was there. It was completely up to me. I could take that first step in either direction. As seemingly insignificant as that choice in reality was, the principle was huge. Which way would I choose to go?

It took me only about 5 seconds, and maybe my lack of money helped, but I decided I would go with the $1.95 coke, instead of the $6.99 cappuccino. After I ordered, all the other guys kind of looked at me sideways and wondered why I had ordered coke at a fancy coffee shop, but I felt happy that I did.

A few minutes later, I learned that the Lord has our backs when we do what he asks. Even on little tiny choices that may not seem like they mean a whole lot in the big picture. He knows me, and all my little personal battles, choices, struggles, and temptations. I had broke ranks with all the guys around me to try and do the right thing. I had stepped out on my own, and the Lord rewarded and taught me in a way that I would understand even with my teenage brain.

As the cappuccino cups were all handed out to the other players, It looked like Mrs Nesbitt’s tea party in Toy Story. The cups were tiny. They couldn’t have held more than 6 oz. I, however, was rewarded with a gigantic 64 oz towering container full of delicious Coca Cola. It looked more like a giant fish bowl, than a cup (think of the time the Hobbits found out what a “pint” was at the Prancing pony in Lord of the Rings). At that very moment, all the other players were jealous of me and my choice that morning. I remember feeling totally justified, and rewarded for that little, tiny, almost insignificant moment in my life. For me, it was a lesson I would never forget.

It wouldn’t have been the end of the world had I ordered a coffee that morning. But, the lesson I learned was that I could be strong on my own. I was able to do what I knew or believed was right, regardless of what everyone else was doing. I also learned that it was my choice, not anyone else’s, that would determine who I would become in the future.

This lesson of taking that first step out on our own is a lesson we all have to learn. It has been necessary since the beginning. One of my favorite examples of this principle is the one we learn about in Alma 56.

This is the famous chapter where we learn from Helaman all about his 2000 stripling warriors. These young men, Helaman describes as being “very” young, had never fought. Even though they had zero experience fighting, they volunteered to be soldiers and join the Nephite armies as long as Helaman was their commander. They joined because the Nephites desperately needed help, and their fathers had previously buried their weapons of war in a sacred covenant, vowing never to fight again.

Helaman’s 2000 were a welcome sight to the Nephites, even thought they had no experience, and were likely a bit scrawny. Because of this, the Nephite commanders probably had to use them in a way that would minimize their physical disadvantage. So, they came up with a plan, a plan that would use them like bait. Like worms on the hook.

Helaman’s boys finally received their marching orders. Their mission was to march past the city of Antiparah, which held the largest Lamanite army in that part of the country, and draw them out of their fortified city by looking like easy prey. This probably wasn’t hard, because they actually were easy prey. If the Lamanites came out, their job was to run away faster to avoid getting slaughtered. Pretty simple, right? It was a perfect assignment for some fresh legged, young new recruits.

The plan worked. Just as the Nephite armies had hoped, the Lamanites took the bait. They poured out of Antiparah. All of them. They then took off in hot pursuit of Helaman’s 2000. The second part of the plan was to have Antipus and his men then take off after the Lamanites, catch them, and engage them out in the open, instead of the fortified city. But, this plan took a full 3 days to take effect. Tyson explained this unique prolonged footrace in a previous post here.

After basically running from the Lamanites all day for 3 days straight, Helaman noticed that the Lamanites suddenly stopped chasing his little band of 2000. But, they were not sure as to the reason. It could have been a trap, or Antipus could have finally caught up with them. It was unclear. Those 2000 young men, who had learned all about faith, courage, and trust and had also seen it in action from their parents, were now faced with a decision. A choice. A much harder, more difficult, and life threatening choice than choosing between a cappuccino or a Coke.

Helaman presented this choice to his “sons” this way…

”Behold, we know not but they have halted for the purpose that we should come against them, that they might catch us in their snare;“

“Therefore what say ye, my sons, will ye go against them to battle?¹”

Helaman was leaving the choice up to them. He had been a commander. He had been in battle. He was intimately familiar with what the likely outcome of a choice to fight would be for those young boys. Those young men knew their job was to be bait for the Lamanites, not to necessarily fight with them. But now, they had to decide what they wanted to do. They needed make their own choice. Mom and Dad weren’t there. Which way would they go? Forward into battle? Or wait it out in supposed safety far away.

They had been taught by their mothers to believe in God and his power. They had seen it demonstrated by their fathers in their covenant with God. They had seen or heard of the ultimate sacrifice of many of their lives honoring that covenant. But, their mothers were all hundreds of miles away. They were out on their own.

Helaman described his reaction to the choice these young men made…

”And now I say unto you, my beloved brother Moroni, that never had I seen so great courage, nay, not amongst all the Nephites²”

They made their choice. Helaman’s boys would fight.

They knew they had no experience and had never fought before, but they also believed the Lord would protect them. They took that step of faith for themselves, and decided to exercise it. This was their answer to Helaman…

“Father, behold our God is with us, and he will not suffer that we should fall; then let us go forth; we would not slay our brethren if they would let us alone; therefore let us go, lest they should overpower the army of Antipus³.”

Their choice to fight given their lack of experience required a lot of faith. A lot more than my choice to avoid coffee, and a lot more dangerous. But, the principle is the same. We all need to, at some point in our lives, step away from what we have been taught, and make our own choices that will affect the rest of our lives.

The wonderful testimonies of others can guide us, encourage us, set examples for us, but eventually we all find ourselves in a spot just like Helaman’s boys were. We are in a place where we need to make a step in one direction or the other. We will either leap in faith towards the fight, or ease quietly away in the opposite direction.

The Lord knows us perfectly, he knows exactly what our anxieties are, he knows our concerns, our fears, our struggles and every little detail of our lives. He is the one that orchestrates these opportunities and moments of truth. He wants us to step out in faith. If we take that step, he will support us. He will strengthen us, protect us, and bless us. It’s how we learn. It’s how we develop our own testimony independent of anybody else. This hard fought, and experienced testimony is the only one that is ultimately strong enough to withstand the onslaught of a world that will challenge us.

Helaman’s 2000 took that step, and survived multiple hard fought, and bloody battles against older, more experienced and hardened Lamanites. Not one of Helaman’s “sons” were killed. It was nothing short of a complete miracle. There is no way that should have happened. But, because they were willing to step into the fight with faith in the Lord’s protection, he preserved them. The most important step they took, was that first one. That first step when Helaman gave them the choice to step out on their own, and exercise the faith that they had been taught.

We all read this story and marvel on their faith, their courage, and dedication. We try and put ourselves in their shoes and contemplate if our answer would be like theirs in that moment. We may not be asked to take up arms against a powerful opposing army, but we can try and emulate that same courage, dedication and faith.

We may not face a literal army of Lamanites, but we all face an army of those who wish to harm us spiritually. We do face an opposing force that will stop at nothing to destroy us and our faith. Let’s take the lessons we have learned, the testimonies we have heard and felt, and allow them to bolster us into taking those first steps on our own to face the enemy with our hearts full of faith. We will be protected. We will be strengthened. Our faith will grow.

When we add action to our beliefs, our testimonies will be solidified. We will know the gospel is true. We will feel closer to the Lord. We will then know and understand more completely the doctrine of Jesus Christ, because we will be doing his will, and that is exactly what He promised us…

“If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.”

-John 7:17

Alma 56:43,44
Alma 56:45
Alma 56:46

Digging Ditches to Be Happy

13 Sunday Nov 2016

Posted by Colby Alexander in Battle, Book of Mormon, Brothers, General, Motivation, Patience, Preparation, Strength, Weakness

≈ 2 Comments

A few months ago, I traveled to California with my wife to watch my brother Tyson compete in an Ironman triathlon. It was pretty amazing to see him, along with everyone else, both men and women, swim, bike, and run for 8 or 10 or 12+ hours straight. It was nuts. Imagine getting up early, before the sun is anywhere near up, and wading into a dark river and swimming for about an hour- with no stopping, rest, or lifeguard. Then, instead of dying an anonymous silent death and sinking to the bottom of the murky water, you run to your bike, and hop onto the most uncomfortable bike seat ever designed, and start pedaling- for about 6 hours. Then, after crouching and straining on that bike for the same amount of time as two full length Lord of the Rings movies, and looking more like a crooked old lady with scoliosis, you get to relax by running a full marathon. Its mind boggling.

After witnessing this event, and seeing Tyson do so well. I had a familiar feeling start to swell inside me. It was a familiar feeling that had been silent, dormant, and suppressed for quite a while, but began to fester up just like a long forgotten illness. It was the re-emergence of the “I can’t let my brother beat me” syndrome that I thought I had fully recovered from. Turns out, there really is no cure. You can’t beat it, you can only hope to contain it.

Tyson, from years of competition growing up together, knew just the kind of salt to throw in that freshly opened wound as over the next few days, he “encouraged” me to throw my hat in the triathlon ring. Smarter men, like my other younger brothers Casey and Riley, would have been wise enough to see the end game, and let that “encouragement” go unacknowledged or laugh it off altogether. But, because of my newly reopened competition illness, I fell for it. Both Tyson and I suffer from rather severe strains of this disease.

I had previously enjoyed a stronghold on the long distance running record amongst my brothers with a full marathon, but even that looked pretty pathetic now. I had just been ceremoniously slapped across the cheek with the proverbial gauntlet. And he did it in such a nice way which was even worse.

So, I was done. And, soon after returning home, I signed myself up for a small triathlon, and started training. Running and biking weren’t so bad, having done endurance training before. But, here’s the difference, you can breathe when you run or bike. And I happen to be very fond of breathing. Swimming, however, presented as a whole different set of problems for me.

The first time I hit the pool, I knew it would be tough, but that was an understatement. I never realized just how far 25 meters can be until I tried to swim it. It then got worse as I then turned around, and did it again, and again, and again. It was exhausting. Its kind of like tying a plastic bag over your head, and walking on your hands up a steep hill.

After my first training session in the pool, I didn’t die, but I did I feel nauseous and lightheaded for hours afterwards. And that was only after about a whopping 200 meters with life-saving gasping-for-air breaks after each 25 meters. I was in trouble.

The next 8 weeks were brutal. I was thrown by how slow my progress was. I was used to being able to train regularly for 2-3 weeks while running, and seeing some significant improvements. With swimming, I was able to go a bit further, but it was very slow, slow, slow improvement. I felt I was improving at the pace of the sloth at the DMV in Zootopia.

Swimming was the obvious weak link on my chain. I knew that going in, but that reality soon started to hit me, hard. I started to have serious doubts, not necessarily about my ability to finish the race, but in my ability to actually survive the race. The way I saw it, if I didn’t somehow have arm floaties on, I only stood at about a 50:50 chance of surviving the swim portion. Seriously. I’m not even kidding.

Now, I don’t like to have weaknesses, let alone having very apparent ones, so this was uncharted territory in a sense. I was eating some serious humble pie, like several meals a day strict diet of humble pie. It was frustrating, but I stuck with it.

Now, after almost 12 weeks, I am proud to say that I have confidence that I will not die in 3 weeks when I go for my first little triathlon. It has been a slow go, but I can tell I have made improvements. Thank goodness, because, I don’t want to get lapped by those 87 year old grandmas because I can’t get out of the pool.

This process that I am in the middle of- this process of trying to get rid of my weakness, and possibly even turn it into a strength, is a principle that we are familiar with. Its frequently taught in the Book of Mormon. A few weeks ago, I recognized this principle all over again in a seemingly unrelated story. This time it was embedded in the way the Nephites dug ditches.

In Tyson’s last post, he mentioned that Moroni had prepared the Nephites to fight in the most unfair way possible against the Lamanites. He did it with unprecedented preparation. You can read it HERE. This process employed by Moroni has everything to do with the famous scripture from Ether. In his book, he explains why we have these weaknesses….

“And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.” (Ether 12:5)

Ether wasn’t necessarily talking about swimming, or even Nephites digging ditches, but the principle applies to both of these scenarios.

We learn all about Moroni’s ditches in Alma chapter 49. It explains how the Nephites rebuilt the city of Ammonihah after it had been destroyed. They rebuilt it and then some. It was obviously regarded as a weak spot for the Nephites….

“Behold, I said that the city of Ammonihah had been rebuilt. I say unto you, yea, that it was in part rebuilt; and because the Lamanites had destroyed it once because of the iniquity of the people, they supposed that it would again become an easy prey for them. But behold, how great was their disappointment; for behold, the Nephites had dug up a ridge of earth round about them, which was so high that the Lamanites could not cast their stones and their arrows at them that they might take effect, neither could they come upon them save it was by their place of entrance. Now at this time the chief captains of the Lamanites were astonished exceedingly, because of the wisdom of the Nephites in preparing their places of security.” (Alma 49:3-5)

So, the Lamanites were looking for the wimpiest spot to attack the Nephites. Remember that Ammonihah was wiped out in one day. It should have been easy pickins’ for the Lamanites. The Nephite resistance should have been like me swimming 100 meters in the pool. Weak cheese. But, the Nephites had worked hard- very hard, in fact, to prepare themselves for that moment.

The Nephites had dug a ditch, not just any ditch, but a ditch so deep, and the accompanying ridge of earth was so high, they couldn’t hit the top by throwing stones or shooting arrows. I don’t know about anyone else, but I think that is a lot of dirt. Thats a big hole, and a big bank of earth.

I picture these Nephite soldiers shoveling, hauling, digging, laboring day after day load after load after load to prepare this city. I can imagine that in the beginning, it seemed like a daunting task, kind of like me imagining myself swimming in a dark river for over 2 miles at 5:00 a.m. But they kept at it. I am absolutely positive, that when these Nephites finished moving that vast amount of dirt, and constructing this massive protective wall all around their entire city, they were stronger than when they started. How could they not be? They probably looked like a bunch of linebackers fresh from the gym.

But, it didn’t happen overnight. It didn’t happen by a lightning strike, or by the fairy Godmother coming and throwing twinkle dust the ground and turning it into a perfectly structured dirt fort. We don’t know exactly how they constructed this ditch or the bank of earth, but it wasn’t with a back hoe or diesel powered crane.

It was built bit by bit, little by little, Im sure almost imperceptible progress was made. But the process made those that were working on it strong, and the process is what transformed the city from a weak point into a stronghold. That same weak city that had been wiped out in a single day.

But, it wasn’t just one city. The Lamanites, came looking to take out Ammonihah, took one look, and said, “No thanks, peace out”, and headed instead to attack another weak spot, the city of Noah. But, Moroni was one step ahead…

“But behold, to their astonishment, the city of Noah, which had hitherto been a weak place, had now, by the means of Moroni, become strong, yea, even to exceed the strength of the city Ammonihah. (Alma 49:14)

“Now behold, the Lamanites could not get into their forts of security by any other way save by the entrance, because of the highness of the bank which had been thrown up, and the depth of the ditch which had been dug round about, save it were by the entrance.

And thus were the Nephites prepared to destroy all such as should attempt to climb up to enter the fort by any other way, by casting over stones and arrows at them.

Now when they found that they could not obtain power over the Nephites by the pass, they began to dig down their banks of earth that they might obtain a pass to their armies, that they might have an equal chance to fight; but behold, in these attempts they were swept off by the stones and arrows which were thrown at them; and instead of filling up their ditches by pulling down the banks of earth, they were filled up in a measure with their dead and wounded bodies.”

Thus the Nephites had all power over their enemies; and thus the Lamanites did attempt to destroy the Nephites until their chief captains were all slain; yea, and more than a thousand of the Lamanites were slain; while, on the other hand, there was not a single soul of the Nephites which was slain.” (Alma 49:18-23)

The Nephites had gained the advantage. They had put in the time, and had become incredibly strong. But it wasn’t by accident. It was a long, deliberate process. The cities and men had become strong by identifying and working on their weaknesses. By working, digging, scrambling, struggling, pulling, pushing, sweating, and preparing.

The Lord can, and will make our weaknesses strong, but he doesn’t just give it to us. It requires work on our end. We need to first recognize our weaknesses, and then we need to humbly commit to strengthen it by work. Then, the Lord blesses us, and aids us in our own little battles.

Moroni didn’t strengthen just the obvious weak spots, he strengthened all the cities. He didn’t take a look at Ammonihah, or Noah, and say, “Nice, our job is done.” He kept going. There is always room for improvement, or strengthening. That means, at the same time, there is always work to do. We can’t stop shoveling, or hauling, striving, or trying.

“And now it came to pass that Moroni did not stop making preparations for war…” (Alma 50:1)

The beauty of all of this hard work isn’t just in the final product. A strong fort made for our own protection isn’t the only end goal. In addition to the increased strength where once we were weak, we are also happier.

We are happy when we work, get stronger, improve, and accomplish. Yes, we then become stronger. But, we also are happier along the way. The Lord blesses us in sneaky ways sometimes. Who would have thought, that through all this time of massive preparation, digging ditches, chopping trees, and laboring night and day that the Nephites would be the happiest they had ever been?

“But behold there never was a happier time among the people of Nephi, since the days of Nephi, than in the days of Moroni, yea, even at this time, in the twenty and first year of the reign of the judges.” (Alma 50:23)

The Nephites were happy. Happier, in fact, than ever. Even after digging seemingly endless numbers of ditches and trenches, and hauling dirt back and forth. Their strength came from the security of shoring up their places of retreat, and strengthening their weaknesses.

Sometimes our improvement doesn’t have to be pretty, or glorious, or fancy, or amazingly awesome. Sometimes we get better simply by working at our weaknesses. It may be slow, but it is always worth it.

Rome wasn’t built in a day. The Great Pyramid of Giza took 20 years to build. The Great Wall of China took thousands of years altogether to make, and the iconic temple that sits in the middle of Salt Lake City took over 40 years to finally complete.

Lets not lose sight of our goal- to be the best we can be, and live with God again. Lets look at our weaknesses only as opportunities for future strengths, and lets commit to be just as willing to work at them as the Nephites were in digging their ditches. Because, in the end, just like the Nephites, our safety and happiness is at stake.

Thwimmin’ Thoup and Mac ‘n’ Doo

04 Tuesday Oct 2016

Posted by Colby Alexander in General

≈ 2 Comments

Having a 3 year old in the house is hilarious. If any of you have one, you know exactly what I’m talking about. There is never a dull moment. Our youngest son Jake is right in that fun age where he thinks he is way older than he is, but his language hasn’t quite caught up with his ego.

He is just getting old enough to have really good conversations, but still young enough to where they are a mix of real words, and garbled up toddler jargon. The results are fantastic. It’s non-stop verbal entertainment. If you take into account that all these words are spoken with his toddler lisp as well, its priceless.

Here are just a few examples of his “Jake-ese” that cracks us up…

Swimming suit and goggles -“thwimmin’ thoup” and “gobbles”.
Movie theatre – “moobie peadure”
Gatorade – “Gardogade”
Computer – “pewder”
Favorite – “fravrit”
Horses – “horthes”
Grandpa – “Drampa”
Grandma – “Dramma”
Yellow – “Weddo”
Mountain Dew – “Mac ’n’ Doo”

Jake loves to play on his own, and in his own little world. He has the world’s biggest imagination. He has worn out countless wooden surfaces all around our house with the constant stampede of plastic horse, and dinosaur feet. He gets this high pitched play voice that he goes into and does full on conversations between all his imagined characters. He rides his bike around the inside of the house and loves to show off his sprinting skills whenever someone comes in to visit. He makes our life full, and fun, exciting, and exhausting all at the same time.

Unfortunately for us, the entertaining days of our Jake words will eventually come to and end, and he will learn the right way to say all these words, and the dinosaurs will be replaced with homework, or something else way more boring as he keeps growing and developing. All our other kids have done it, and so will he. Kids grow up. Its part of life, and we will have to rely on all the fun memories that he gives us now, and then wait for all the grandkids to do the same thing.

In a way, we all are still growing. It never stops. We are all still learning and developing. Im sure our Heavenly Parents look down lovingly to watch us learn new principles, or finally pull through our challenges. Im sure they relish the fun memories, and look forward to each and every one of our spiritual milestones. Sometimes, however, it takes us quite a while to learn.

Over the last year or so, that kind of describes me. I have had a bit of a struggle trying to reconcile my own personal practical views on the refugee situation that is going on in Syria. The church has asked for our support of the refugees and that we should treat them with open and welcoming arms. In my heart, I knew this was true, and, of course we should treat everyone that way. But, my head seemed to just see the potential for problems. I was kind of stuck. I guess I was stuck saying “thwimming soup”, and “Mac ’n’ doo” in a spiritual sense on this one particular issue.

In my head, along with many others, I just kept thinking about all the potential bad guys that would likely use this situation to take advantage of our country’s generosity. This was right at the time of all the attacks in France, and the bombing at the airport that effected the missionaries. It seemed like it would be so easy for terrorists to slip in claiming to be a refugee and then do a lot of damage to the honest innocent people just trying to help. My head was saying we had to be wary of the refugees to make sure we weren’t opening ourselves up for an easy attack. I seemed to be at a stalemate. My head saying one thing, while the church encouraging me to do what seemed like the exact opposite.

I hadn’t quite learned what I needed to learn. I had a spiritual lisp. Until a few days ago.

It was another testimony to me of the power and relevance of the Book of Mormon. I was reading in Alma about the Anti-Nephi-Lehis. Also known as the people of Ammon. Those guys were as tough as nails. This group of Lamanites, thanks to some great missionaries, had converted to the Lord and repented of all their previous sins and murders of the Nephites. They had been a very nasty group of people, but had completely changed into an unbelievably good, devout, and committed people. They had converted to the Lord so completely that nothing else mattered to them. Not even their physical lives.

As a first token of their commitment, they first put away all their “weapons of rebellion¹”. I think that these these “weapons of rebellion” can mean ideas, thought processes, habits, traditions, or anything else that puts us in opposition to the Lord. However, this wasn’t necessarily the act that made them famous in the Book of Mormon.

A little while after these Anti-Nephi-Lehis had converted to the Lord, their fellow countrymen, the Lamanites who were NOT converted to the Lord, started making preparations for war. But, this time, they were not preparing for war against the Nephites. They were getting ready for war against their own people. The people of Ammon. They had become angry with the Anti-Nephi-Lehis because of their conversion to the Lord².

It is interesting to me, and very telling, that the Anti-Nephi-Lehis, who are famous for burying their weapons of war deep in the earth as a covenant not to shed the blood of man ever again, did not do so immediately. Remember, the first step was only putting away their “weapons of rebellion” as well as their weapons of war. It was not until their fellow Lamanites were actively preparing to come to war against them, that they physically buried their weapons, to absolutely make sure that they did not break their covenant. Even in self defense.

In peacetime it would be difficult to make such a commitment. But can we imagine how much more difficult it would have been to voluntarily disarm, in the very moments that their hardened enemy was preparing to come to battle against them? This was an act of pure faith.

Here are the words that their king used describing their mindset, “And now, my brethren, if our brethren seek to destroy us, behold, we will hide away our swords, yea, even we will bury them deep in the earth, that they may be kept bright, as a testimony that we have never used them, at the last day; and if our brethren destroy us, behold, we shall go to our God and shall be saved³”

In that short amount of time, the people of Ammon had gone from recent converts to one of the most committed, righteous people to ever have lived. Their spiritual development was rapid, and complete. They had changed their character to be more Christlike, and had NO reservations, and had complete faith in their God, and left their fate in his hands. They knew that if they were faithful to him, their fate would be sealed, and they would be with the Lord.

“And they did look upon shedding the blood of their brethren with the greatest abhorrence; and they never could be prevailed upon to take up arms against their brethren; and they never did look upon death with any degree of terror, for their hope and views of Christ and the resurrection; therefore, death was swallowed up to them by the victory of Christ over it. Therefore, they would suffer death in the most aggravating and distressing manner which could be inflicted by their brethren, before they would take the sword or cimeter to smite them. And thus they were a zealous and beloved people, a highly favored people of the Lord⁴”

The people of Ammon were completely converted to the Lord. That conversion influenced their actions. They had changed their character completely. They weren’t only committed and righteous on Sunday, but everyday, and every hour and every minute. They looked at the world around them through the lens of the gospel, not the lens of self preservation, political affiliation, or secular ideology. I have a lot to learn from them.

I am not suggesting that we as a country or as a people should do just as the Anti-Nephi-Lehis and bury our weapons of defense, and come what may. But, I am hoping that we can all look to them as an example of true and complete commitment to the Lord. Their faith took away their fear. Their love of God, replaced their apprehension for death.

The people of Ammon, because of their degree of commitment and testimony, had reached the point of being unafraid of death. Because of their faith, they didn’t look upon it with “any degree of terror⁴.” Not even when they were faced with death “in the most aggravating and distressing ways.⁴” They knew exactly what was coming, and still held true to their covenants.

I need to graduate from my current elementary school spot, to their graduate level of faith. In a spiritual sense, I was still playing with plastic “dinothaurs” and “horthes”. I was looking at the world through nothing but my worldly eyes. I had been stuck in 3rd grade and couldn’t quite wrap my head around 4th grade, let alone the concepts mastered and taught in the Graduate School of the People of Ammon.

I learned right then, that I had been wrong. My thought process had been too narrow and not spiritually based. I had to get my head right. Even if it meant going in the opposite direction of where my head was telling me to go. I had to graduate from “Mac “n” Doo, to the actual real life Mountain Dew. I needed to open my heart to see what was really happening in Syria, and other devastated areas of the world. People are hurting, and desperately need help. It is my duty as a follower of Jesus Christ to act as he would act, think as he would think, and love as he would love. My own personal opinions notwithstanding. My character needed an upgrade.

So, I decided to change. I decided to try and be more faithful, and less skeptical. I decided to look at all the chaos in the world right now, and compare it to the chaos that surely existed in the days of the people of Ammon. If they could do it, maybe I can too. If I work to be more committed, all the time, even when looking at practical problems in seemingly secular situations.

In Emma Lazerus’ poem “The New Colossus” the ideas of inclusion and welcome that shaped this modern day promised land are perfectly put into words. They are inscribed on the pedestal under the Statue of Liberty. Sometimes I need a little (or big) reminder to put my thoughts and actions back into the proper perspective. The people of Ammon did that for me this last week, as well as these words that are written under the feet of Lady Liberty….

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles.
From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Alma 23:7
Alma 24:1
Alma 24:16
Alma 27:28-30

Titles of Liberty

25 Sunday Sep 2016

Posted by Colby Alexander in Battle, Book of Mormon, Freedom, General, Liberty, Loyalty, Strength

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Flag remnant from Fort McHenry

Eleven days ago it was September 14th. It was a special day. And, up until a few days ago, I never realized quite how special it really was. I always thought that the only thing worth remembering about that particular day was that 38 years ago, yours truly was born. But, as usual, something way more cool and better than me is the real reason for that day’s awesomeness.

On September 14, 1814 something vastly more inspiring than me was born. It was the birth of the Star Spangled Banner. We all know the basics of the story. Francis Scott Key saw the flag standing after a battle and was inspired to write his poem, one thing led to another, and voila, we had the National Anthem.

The back story, though, is a lot more amazing than just that little snippet we hear from the history books.

Francis Scott Key was a lawyer, and an amateur poet. He had a way with words. Because of his skills, he was sent by the Americans to meet with the commander of the British naval fleet floating in the bay outside the city of Baltimore. In this fleet, hundreds of American prisoners were being kept in cells under deck. His job was to be a prisoner exchange negotiator.

After reaching an agreement to release the American prisoners being held, the British Commander informed him that the agreement would be meaningless soon, because the war would soon be over. The war would end because of a massive impending British attack on the nearby Fort McHenry.

The British had plans to unleash all hell on the fort. The Commander was confident that as soon as the Americans realized their plight was helpless, they would be ready to surrender.

In order to give up the fight and survive, all they had to do was lower the American flag that was flying over the ramparts of the fort. If, and only if, this happened, the bombing would stop, that was the deal. The fort would then be turned over to the British, and the battle, and soon the war, would be over.

Needless to say, Key, was anxious to see how this played out. All of the American prisoners below deck were also anxious to see, and were all focused on the flag flying above the fort. In many ways, that one flag’s survival symbolized the survival of the USA, and real freedom that she had fought for and won.

Soon, at the twilight’s last gleaming, the bombing started. It was relentless, endless, and complete. All the British ships were aiming all of their cannon fire on the flag. If it fell, the battle was over. The bombing lasted all night. The flag took numerous direct hits, but somehow stayed upright. All night the prisoners were below deck anxiously hoping, and actively praying for the survival of the flag. They constantly begged for updates from Key as he watched from above deck. After a long night, and with the gleam of the morning’s first beam, the flag was still there, upright, although hammered, shredded, and teetering.

Upon his return to the fort, Key was able to get a better understanding of just what had taken place over that terrible night. Each bomb had taken its toll. The fort had been ravished.The flag had indeed fallen several times due to direct cannon strikes, only to be hoisted back up, over and over again, by individual men. These men were willing to hold it up themselves, with their hands. Doing so was a death sentence. But, they were willing to die, so that the flag would still fly.

As the bombs had been aimed squarely at the flag, the cannon fire had thus taken the lives of many of those men. Their bodies now lay strewn around the pole holding the tattered flag up at that tilted angle. Those men knew exactly what their fate would be when they volunteered to hold up that flag, and yet, they were still willing to so. It wasn’t just for the flag, but for what the flag stood for. It was their symbol of God given freedom and liberty.

Is it any wonder, that after what he had witnessed, both from the ship in the harbor, and then from the fort itself, that such a poem would be written? The same flag that had inspired those men to give their lives for its continued display, had also inspired Francis Scott Key to write an amazing few verses, that now, in turn, inspire so many of us.

Think of all the times that you have heard the National Anthem, before a baseball or football game, or special event. Remember each time that we all sing those words that describe the feelings of that day. Think about the climactic ending of the words, “O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!” It instills a sense of pride to be an American. It helps us honor and appreciate the men and women that helped preserve us a nation. That is what our flag represents. It represents our liberty, and freedom. The gifts that God gave to this land.

Now lets look even further back in American history. Like about 2,089 years ago to be exact. Lets look back at the story of another inspiring flag. One that has a very similar story, and that was equally inspiring. Its pretty amazing how these stories are so similar. I guess the old adage of “history repeats itself” really is true.

Captain Moroni’s Title of Liberty

We read all about this ancient flag in The Book of Mormon in Alma Chapter 46. At this time, there is a huge uprising all over the land of the Nephites. If we look back at this story and compare it to 1814, its amazing how the stories can be so similar so many years apart.

This Nephite uprising was led by a conniving, evil man named Amalakiah. Amalakiah wanted to be king. His only problem was that the Nephites were a free people, they no longer had a king. They had recently transitioned into a free government system of elected lower, and higher judges. At this time, the Nephite people were in their 19th year of this whole no king experiment. It was then that Amalakiah decided he should be king and because of his pride and malice, caused pain and misery. But, because he was a persuasive man he had convinced most of the lower judges to side with him. They, like Amalakiah, sought the same thing. Power.

However, not everyone was on board with Amalakiah. In fact, the majority of the free Nephites opposed him. Among those who opposed Amalakiah was the famous Captain Moroni. Moroni was integral in reminding the Nephites of what was at stake, and was unrelenting in his defense of liberty.

Moroni had done this same thing time and time again. He had just led the Nephites for years against the invading Lamanites in order to preserve their lands and freedom. The Lamanites were in a near constant state of war to attack and take over the lands of the Nephites. But, this time, he found himself needing to fend off the threat of Amalakiah and his supporters from within his own people.

So how did Moroni do it? How did he manage to inspire an already war torn and weary people yet again? He made a flag. Not an ordinary flag, but a personalized, symbolic flag. He cut off his coat, and wrote on it by hand, he wrote just a few simple words, but words that reminded the people just what was at stake. He needed to inspire them to turn to God, and turn to the cause of freedom and liberty. He needed them to fight for the very thing that meant the most. The words he wrote on his flag were “In memory of our God, our religion, and freedom, and our peace, our wives, and our children¹”. He then fastened it to a pole and raised it to rally the people, and inspire them to join the cause.

Just as the American flag over Fort McHenry stood as a symbol of liberty and freedom attained by sacrifice in war and loss of life, so did Moroni’s Title of Liberty. Both flags inspired men and soldiers to fight for what their flags represented. Which, in both cases, was freedom and liberty. Not only freedom from tyranny, and oppression, but freedom to worship God how they wished.

Both of these events seemed to be centered around their respective flags, or titles of liberty. As we listen to these words of Moroni, they could almost be used interchangeably to describe the times that would come 2000 years later.

“And it came to pass that when he had poured out his soul to God, he named all the land which was south of the land Desolation, yea, and in fine, all the land, both on the north and on the south—A chosen land, and the land of liberty²”.

“Behold, whosoever will maintain this title upon the land, let them come forth in the strength of the Lord, and enter into a covenant that they will maintain their rights, and their religion, that the Lord God may bless them³”.

This land is special. It has been special for a long, long, time. Even before Columbus was a twinkle in his father’s eye, this land was special. Long before that inspired morning’s sunlight shone on our flag in 1814. It will remain a special place for freedom and liberty for exactly as long as we treat it as such. It is a God blessed land, a chosen land for those who would honor Him. Its up to us to live up to our end of the covenant. Our blessings as a country will depend upon our collective obedience to God’s commandments.

Let’s always remember the history of this great place. This history goes back thousands of years, but seems to always have a way of repeating itself. These two stories show how a simple flag served as the reminder of the fragility of freedom and liberty. Both of these flags inspire me. They make me want to be better. They make me want to be a part of the great cause of liberty and freedom.

Amazingly, we still live under those same skies that watched the flag survive over Fort McHenry. We still live on the same land as those who followed Captain Moroni against the forces of Amalakiah. We still live under that same covenant today. Let’s try harder to be like those who sacrificed for us, and understood the necessity of liberty and freedom. Lets try harder to honor our part in the covenant. Lets try harder to keep God’s commandments so that we can be deserving and worthy of the freedoms we currently enjoy.

Alma 46:12
Alma 46:17
Alma 46:20

Additional Note:

We are all very familiar with the first verse of the National Anthem. But, all 4 verses of this poem are amazing. Sometimes, I wish we would sing the 1st and 4th verses at least…

Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hail’d at the twilight’s last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thro’ the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watch’d, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof thro’ the night that our flag was still there.
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore dimly seen thro’ the mists of the deep,
Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream:
‘Tis the star-spangled banner: O, long may it wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has wash’d out their foul footsteps’ pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

O, thus be it ever when freemen shall stand,
Between their lov’d homes and the war’s desolation;
Blest with vict’ry and peace, may the heav’n-rescued land
Praise the Pow’r that hath made and preserv’d us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause is just,
And this be our motto: “In God is our trust”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Lost in Translation

11 Sunday Sep 2016

Posted by Colby Alexander in General

≈ 3 Comments

About 19 years ago, I learned a great lesson about the perils of translation. I was 19 years old and had just finished up the grueling 8 week language program in the Missionary Training Center before being sent to Brazil for my mission. If anyone else has tried to learn a language in 8 weeks, you can empathize that it’s not all that simple. If you couple this with the fact that other Americans, not Brazilians, were the ones trying to teach me, it meant that I had a lot of work to do.

But, for 16 hours a day, for 8 weeks, I worked, learned, practiced, practiced, listened, listened and practiced. So much so, that I felt I was half Brazilian after about 7 weeks. I was sure that in all the years of the MTC there had never been a more fluent American missionary. I had set records. I would have a plaque on the wall. I was pumped to go and blow the faces off the Brazilians with my 8 week old Portuguese.

I felt that I had a huge advantage because I had spent the last 3 years in high school learning Spanish. I loved it. I loved trying to talk with my friends in high school for practice, and I was excited to transition that into Portuguese because they were so similar. Many of the words were the same, the verbs conjugated in the same way, and I was picking it up pretty easily. I thought I was awesome.

As the end of the 8 weeks came, and it was time to head to real Brazil to put my newly crafted skill to use, I started to get a little nervous. I had begun to realize that if any conversation wasn’t about the gospel, breakfast, cats and dogs, ice cream, or what time it was, I was going to struggle. I started trying to think in Portuguese, and translate full sentences in my head just to be ready.

When I finally got to Brazil, myself and all the new American missionaries were able to get together at the Mission President’s house to meet him, his family, as well as the missionary leaders. We were all exhausted. We had just spent the last 36 hours on several different planes, and transfer buses, and were now in a time zone that gave us some serious jet lag. In addition to our thrown off sleep patterns, no one spoke English. This led to a scenario where there were a lot of Elders who, instead of spiritual firecrackers, were more like little deer caught in the headlights.

The Mission President’s wife had a favorite tradition she would do each time the new missionaries came from America. She would take out her video camera, start recording, and then, in a mix of Portuguese and the occasional English word, go around to each wide-eyed Elder, and do simple little individual interviews or introductions while we were milling around in the apartment.

The questions were simple, but the pressure was on. This was, of course, for the entertainment of the Brazilians, and for us to be able to watch and laugh at ourselves and our stumbling Portuguese 2 years later when we would watch it again, as we left the mission on our way back home.

I was confident that I could handle this simple task. I wasnt looking forward to being recorded necessarily, but I was ready to be the best there ever was with my flawless Brazilian accent.

When the camera was finally on me, and the question came, “Oi, Elder, qual é o seu nome?” Or, “Hi, Elder, what is your name?” I understood perfectly. I had been in this scenario a million times before. I had played this out in my mind, I had silently practiced over and over. I knew what I should say, and I was ready to shine, it was go time…..right up until my mouth opened.

At that very moment, the moment of my rise to Portuguese stardom, the moment that the whole room would pause, and gasp in amazement at my stellar, perfect Portuguese, I blew it. My brain was running left instead of right, my tongue went up instead of down. The little gerbils running the translation department in my brain passed out, and all that came out of my mouth was, “Yo me llamo Elder Alexander.” Which in Spanish means, “My name is Elder Alexander”. The obvious problem was that I wasn’t anywhere near anyone, or even any country, that spoke Spanish.

My brain had barfed all over my shoes and reverted back to the Spanish I had learned in high school. So much for first impressions. But, that isn’t all. I could have survived if it was just a little slip up in the languages. The biggest problem with my slip up, was that in Portuguese, “Eu me amo” doesn’t mean “my name is”, it means, “I love myself”.

So, there I was, on day one, ready to be crowned the best Portuguese speaker ever, and as soon as my mouth opened, I blurted out, on camera, in front of everyone, that “I love myself, Elder Alexander”. The mission President’s wife, and two boys busted up laughing uncontrollably. The two boys were around 9 and 11. The perfect ages to make fun of the gringo Elders as they came through. I had given them just what they wanted. The translation didn’t go as I had planned. Needless to say, I wasn’t crowned most impressive Portuguese speaker that day.

The worst part of this story is that I only had to relive this almost every day, every single conference, and each time I saw those two boys for the next two years. The gift of humility I guess. The moral of the story? Sometimes things do get lost in translation.

Two days ago, I learned about another translation snafu. I was reading and getting ready for my lesson this Sunday when I came across this scripture in Genesis. This is where the Lord is creating Eve and presenting her to Adam.

“And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.” (Genesis 2:18)

The interesting thing about this scripture is the word “help meet”. I had heard that word a bazillion times before, but this time, the manual said something about the word “meet” meaning “equal”. I had never heard that before. So I looked into it. Turns out, the word “help meet” is a lot more complex than I ever realized.

First of all, the word “help meet”is like the 10% of an iceberg that is visible. If we look at what that word really means, it opens up the real purpose and role of Eve, as well as her relationship to Adam. In addition to that, I think it will open our own eyes to what our relationship should be with the women in our lives.

In Hebrew, the two words that “help meet” are derived from are “Ezer” and ‘k’enegdo¹”. Ezer is a word that is a combination of two word roots, one means “to rescue”, or “to save”, and the other means “to be strong”.

The noun “ezer” occurs 21 times in the Hebrew Bible. In eight of these instances, the word means “savior”. It is the word most frequently used to describe God in his relationship to us. God is an ezer to man. This “ezer” word is the same word that God himself used to describe Eve when He gave her to Adam². The simplified translation of “ezer” into “help” misses by a mile, its like hitting with a putter off the tee on a par 5. It’s that short. The true meaning of “Ezer” describes much better the purpose, scope, and power that Eve had. Eve was meant to be so much more than a simple helper, or even just Adam’s companion. She was intended to be his savior and deliverer.

It can go a lot further than Eve. It’s not just her that this translation effects. The scripture clearly says that it is not good that man should be alone, meaning all of us. We all need a savior and deliverer at our side.

The second word “meet” comes from the Hebrew “k’negdo”. This word can mean “exactly corresponding to²”. I picture this like someone looking into a mirror, you see an exact reflection of who you are. This reflection connotes equality. No one is better than the other. Both are equal parts, one corresponding perfectly with the other, working together.

This translation teaches us a lot more about the power and purpose of Eve, and also of our wives, and mothers. It should open our eyes to the calling that women have not only to us directly, but to everyone around them. Women are not here to be merely helpers, they are here to be saviors and deliverers. I like that translation a lot better.

Maybe, if we had a do-over, the scripture in Genesis could read, “It is not good that man should be alone. I will make him a companion of strength and power who has a saving power and is equal with him.”

I am convinced that this definition, the deeper, more meaningful definition, that describes the calling and role for women is WAY more accurate than what we read in Genesis at a brief glance. I know just by my own personal experience that this is the case. How do we as men, fathers, and husbands treat our “Eves”? Do we treat them merely as “helpers”? Or, do we try and see them, and treat them, as the powerful saviors and rescuers that they really are?

Eve and the Choice Made in Eden. Beverly Campbell 2003
Forgotten Women of God. Diana Webb 2010

“I Am a Nephite.”

28 Sunday Aug 2016

Posted by Colby Alexander in Book of Mormon, General, Loyalty, Prophets

≈ 1 Comment

Thorin Oakenshield

The Lord of the Rings and Hobbit movies are awesome. What more could you ask for than a story full of dragons, goblins, flesh eating orcs, Dwarves, Hobbits, Humans, and special forces olympic-gymnastics-esque assassin Elves all in one place. There are so many similarities between the stories of middle earth and Christianity its crazy. This makes for totally awesome comparisons between Middle Earth and actual earth. We could probably spend weeks talking about all of them. But for today we will keep it simple.

One of the main characters in the Hobbit is the storied warrior leader of the Dwarves. His name is Thorin Oakenshield. He is the last in a long line of kings. His Father Thrain was a mighty King, as was his Grandfather Thror. He is extremely proud of his heritage and lineage. Thorin is a direct descendent from Durin the Deathless, the original and most revered dwarf King. Thorin makes sure that everyone knows exactly who he is, and from whom he descended. He is Thorin son of Thrain, Son of Thror the Kings under the mountain. Just because its awesome and I needed an excuse to have a Hobbit video on the blog, the following clip is a Lord of the Rings poem written by J.R.R. Tolkein and put to music. It’s called Durin’s song. It explains the history of Durin, and the heritage of the Dwarves that Thorin Oakenshield is so proud of. This is the song that Gimli sang to the Fellowship of the Ring as they entered the the mines of Moria…

As much as I would love to write another 27 pages on the lineage of dwarves, elves, hobbits, and wizards, I’d better not. My reputation of not having a lisp and/or wearing Gandalf garb to the midnight showings of all the Lord of the Rings movies is at stake.

One of the principles that Thorin Oakenshield demonstrates, however, is what I would like to showcase. He is proud of who he is. He announces it openly. He feels very much responsible for the name he bears, and knows that his actions will reflect back on his lineage and carry on after he is gone. He feels this connection to his past through his name and heritage.

Recently, I was reading in Alma and came back to the story of how Alma met Amulek. Amulek was a wealthy man, a well-known man, who lived in the very wicked city, Ammonihah. As Alma was traveling around the cities of the Nephites to strengthen a weakening church, he stopped and taught in Ammonihah only to be outrightly rejected. They cast him out because, “[He] had no power over [them]’ as he had previously “delivered up the judgment-seat unto Nephihah; therefore thou art not the chief judge over us.¹”

Basically, they rejected him saying “You’re not the boss of us.” So, because he no longer had any real legal authority over them, and he was now just a “church guy”, they “reviled him, and spit upon him, and caused that he should be cast out of their city.²”

Not exactly the best reception for the sitting Prophet. After that, Ammonihah was probably scratched of the list of cities to host the next regional conference. After being completely rejected, Alma left. Almost immediately afterwards, however, he was summoned back to Ammonihah by an angel to complete his mission there.

Alma, being Alma, then decided to fast many days in order to attempt to soften the hearts of the people of Ammonihah while traveling back to this unwelcoming city of uber wickedness. This time, however, was different. The first man he saw upon his return to Ammonihah was a man named Amulek, who, not so coincidentally, had also been told by an angel that his meeting with a prophet would take place. Notice the very first words out of Amulek’s mouth to Alma, this total stranger, a man he’d never met.

“And as he (Alma) entered the city he was an hungered, and he said to a man: Will ye give to an humble servant of God something to eat?”

“And the man (Amulek) said unto him: I am a Nephite, and I know that thou art a holy prophet of God, for thou art the man whom an angel said in a vision: Thou shalt receive. Therefore, go with me into my house and I will impart unto thee of my food; and I know that thou wilt be a blessing unto me and my house.³”

Amulek didn’t waste even one syllable in letting Alma know who he was. Right away he comes out and says, “I am a Nephite, and I know thou art a holy prophet of God.”

We don’t really know why exactly why he chose those words to introduce himself. But, in my mind, I imagine Amulek being overly anxious and even excited to express his unwavering support for Alma, the prophet, the church, and the Lord. He was proud to be a Nephite, and happy to be a part of what that actually meant. He knew the heritage behind that name, as well as how that would sound to Alma.

Being a Nephite could have meant not only that he was a descendant of Nephi, but that he was also converted to the Lord, and living righteously. We know that later in the Book of Mormon, all the righteous people were known as Nephites regardless of their lineage, and all those who chose not to be righteous were known as Lamanites⁴. This was exactly who Amulek was. He was proud to be a Nephite in every sense of that word. So much so, that the first recorded words he uttered to Alma were “I am a Nephite.”

This is awesome. Amulek is awesome. The lesson I take from him, is that I should be proud of where I come from. I should be honored to share the name of my fathers just as Amulek was. I should be proud of my heritage and lineage. I should be willing, and even honored, to wear my belief on my sleeve. That means, at the same time, I need to be worthy of my name, and who I claim to be. And that takes effort, commitment and dedication on my part. I need to BE a Nephite, in order to claim upon meeting the prophet, “I am a Nephite”!

Amulek’s pronouncement was not the first example in the scriptures of clear and bold introductions. Great examples are all over the place….

One such example is when my man, Captain Moroni, never one to mince words, closed his famous beat down letter to Ammoron, the General of the enemy Lamanite army, like this…

“…it supposeth me that thou art a child of hell…I will come against you with my armies; yea, even I will arm my women and my children, and I will come against you, and I will follow you even into your own land, which is the land of our first inheritance; yea, and it shall be blood for blood, yea, life for life; and I will give you battle even until you are destroyed from off the face of the earth.

Behold, I am in my anger, and also my people; ye have sought to murder us, and we have only sought to defend ourselves. But behold, if ye seek to destroy us more we will seek to destroy you; yea, and we will seek our land, the land of our first inheritance.

Now I close my epistle. I am Moroni; I am a leader of the people of the Nephites⁵.”

In response, Ammoron tried to do the same type of thing, but unfortunately for him, it wasn’t quite as powerful….

“And behold now, I am a bold Lamanite; behold, this war hath been waged to avenge their wrongs, and to maintain and to obtain their rights to the government; and I close my epistle to Moroni⁶.”

Mormon, author, and abridger of the Book of Mormon left us this clear definition of who he was…

“Behold, I am a disciple of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. I have been called of him to declare his word among his people, that they might have everlasting life⁷.”

The Psalmist gives us a great example of how we can present ourselves before the Lord in prayer to help us gain a testimony…

“I am thy servant; give me understanding, that I may know thy testimonies⁸.”

The best example of all, and by far the most powerful to read, is the way the Lord himself handles his own introductions. He makes it powerfully clear just who He is.

“I am the first and the last; I am he who liveth, I am he who was slain; I am your advocate with the Father⁹.”

“Behold, I am Jesus Christ the Son of God. I created the heavens and the earth, and all things that in them are. I was with the Father from the beginning. I am in the Father, and the Father in me; and in me hath the Father glorified his name¹⁰.

I am the light and the life of the world. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end¹¹.”

“Behold, I am God and have spoken it¹²;…”

I want to be just like Amulek, Mormon, and Moroni. I want to stand up and honorably proclaim who I am, and live worthily to do so. I want to be just like my Savior, and live in such a way that others can see his influence on me. I want to wear my belief and my spiritual heritage on my sleeve, and BE who I claim to be. A Christian, a Father, a Husband, and a Mormon.

1. Alma 8:12
2. Alma 8:13
3. Alma 8:19,20
4. 4 Nephi 37,38
5. Alma 54:11-14
6. Alma 54:24
7. 3 Nephi 5:13
8. Psalm 119:125
9. D&C 110:4
10. 3 Nephi 9:13
11. 3 Nephi 9:18
12. D&C 1:24

I Wanna Be Like Tikes

08 Monday Aug 2016

Posted by Colby Alexander in Battle, Brothers, Example, General

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When I was in Jr High, it was common knowledge that the best basketball player in the world was Michael Jordan. He had the best shoes, he stuck his tongue out when he dunked, and he was cool. He was the whole package. He even had a commercial/song that unabashedly touted the phrase, “I wanna be like Mike”.

Remember this?

That sentence pretty much summed up my whole existence at that time. I wanted to play basketball for the Bulls, have black shoes, and dunk on everyone. He was the guy I wanted to be like, I wanted to emulate him, I wanted to do what he was doing, I wanted to be just like him. So, I practiced. I practiced, and I practiced. I stuck my tongue out when I dunked on the 7’5” hoop we had in the driveway. I palmed the mini-basketball I won at Lagoon when I did my pump fakes and everything. It was awesome. Watching him made me want to be better.

Last weekend, all that admiration happened again, it was like a flashback. Except this time, I wasn’t watching Michael Jordan. I was watching my little brother Tikes (Tikes is short for Tikes-Bikes, a nickname Tyson gave himself about 10 years ago when we all had blog wars back in the day. Talk about foreshadowing…) do an Ironman. He is awesome. I pretty much have the best little brothers in the world. For another example of how awesome my brothers are, click here.

It was in Guernville California. My wife Catie and I met up with Tyson and his wife, Amanda, to watch him compete in the Vineman Iron Man Triathlon. It was nuts. If you’re not quite sure what that is, imagine if you were a prisoner trying to escape a Russian gulag in the middle of a siberian wasteland 140 miles from the nearest anything. The only real difference is that you willingly sign up for it. It starts with a 2.4 mile swim in a river, immediately followed by a 112 mile bike ride, which, in turn, is immediately followed by a full marathon (26.2 miles). I dropped him off at the starting line by the river at 5:00 a.m. I then, being the supportive brother that I am, went back to where we were staying and fell asleep.

After we (Myself, Catie, and Amanda) all woke up, and met around 8:00 am, we took a nice drive into the nearest town, and sat down in the morning sun, and had an amazing breakfast. This breakfast consisted of a lobster mushroom benedict, and some homemade fresh donuts dusted with sugar and served with a local plum jelly. It was amazing. It was hard work to eat everything, but we showed character, and dedication (almost as much as Tyson) and put our heads down and got the job done. After then relaxing outside at the quaint cafe, we gathered up, made another couple errand stops, and then went out to our planned observation spot. It was a nice shady spot on a sidewalk along the road where the runners and bikers would pass several times during the race. It was now about 11:15 a.m.

By this time, Tyson had finished the swim, and started his bike ride. Actually, he had already passed the spot we picked. Twice. Way to go us. Fans of the year award. We were totally justified though because we were really busy looking for the blackberry tarts he had requested.

As we sat there and cheered on the 2200 participants who were riding their bikes, and then as the runners started to pass us, we were impressed. They came in all shapes and sizes. Some were the traditional looking triathletes (5’9” 160 lbs. 6% body fat) but many were normal ordinary looking people, who were doing this extraordinary thing. It was inspiring. Hour after hour, as we waited and cheered, it was fun to watch.

We eventually did see him as he passed our spot several times during the marathon portion of the event. Each time it was better and better. He looked great. I was so proud of him. It was about that time that I realized, I wanted to be like him. I wanted to do what he was doing, I wanted to be able to swim, bike, and run and endure just like him. I wanted to emulate him. It was just like I was 14 again, wanting to be Michael Jordan, but I was 37 and wanted to be like Tikes.

I had watched him over the last year get ready, plan, train, prepare, work, train, compete, train, and train some more. And it all came to fruition last Saturday over the 11 hours and 38 minutes that he gave everything he had. He had gone from barely being able to swim 25 meters without drowning, to swimming 3,862 meters in an hour and 11 minutes, then biking for 5+ hours, then running a marathon. He didn’t even die. He was awesome.

He and all the others who chose to participate are inspirational. They embody commitment, dedication, hard work, and endurance. Through his example, I want to be better. I want to become something better, and be like him.

This principle is not new, and applies to all aspects of our lives, not just in a physical sense, but in a character sense as well. We live our entire lives following the examples of others. We learn, starting as babies, by watching our parents, siblings, friends, and everyone else. We emulate the actions of those we admire.

Over this last week I have been thinking specifically of all the examples I have close to me, and around me, that make me want to be better. There are several in and out of my ward, my work, and in my own family. Most of them probably don’t even realize how much I look up to them. I just kind of secretly spy on them and their awesomeness from a distance.

This is exactly how I feel about the great men in the Book of Mormon. And, to me, therein lies the power in that book. By reading it, it makes me want to be just like those amazing prophets and leaders. It has the same effect on me as watching Tikes swim, bike and run for 12 hours straight. It Inspires me to emulate the characteristics that make them great. They become my heroes, they are spiritual superstars. Its also full of stories about normal everyday people who developed Christlike characteristics through grinding out a tough life. There are countless examples of dedication, strength, character, commitment, sacrifice, faith, humility, and honor. I want to be like them.

I want to be like Abinidi, and be so committed to my faith that I can stand up for, and defend it in front of an evil king and his wormtongue priests in the face of death threats.

I want to be like Teancum, and be brave enough to sneak alone into the enemy camp and send a spear into the heart of their wicked general, at great personal risk, in order to attempt to end a senseless war, and save the lives of countless innocent soldiers.

I want to be like Antipus, and have the strength to run all day, and then all night, and then all the next day in order to save 2000 young inexperienced volunteer warriors who were willing to be live bait to draw out the enemy. Then be willing to engage that enemy army, completely exhausted, and give up my life to save theirs.

As we take another look at the righteous men and women in the Book of Mormon, it becomes perfectly clear that the characteristics they all display- strength, sacrifice, honor and commitment are developed as they were simply following the examples of previous prophets, or their fathers before them. As we learn more, it is clear that the the ultimate example that they were all striving towards was that of Christ himself. Either by his words found in the scriptures, or by his actual presence in influencing the attitudes, and actions of his people.

“…be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.”
-1 Timothy 4:12

“And now, my beloved brethren, I know by this that unless a man shall endure to the end, in following the example of the Son of the living God, he cannot be saved.”
-2 Nephi 31:16

“For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you.”
-John 13:15

“Behold I am the light; I have set an example for you.”
-3 Nephi 18:16

In Sunday School yesterday, we learned about a good way to envision what changes are necessary in our lives. Instead of saying “we”, or “you” when we discuss what we should do, we change our words into the first person using “I”. It makes things more personal, and meaningful. So, to finish this off, Ill give it a shot.

Good examples are all around me. As I identify who they are, and how they are, and I try to be like them, I will learn that ultimately every good example I have, steers me to be more like my Savior. He is who I need to emulate. I need to learn to love other people like he does. I need to treat everyone around me like he would. I need to forgive, bless, and teach like he did. As I try and change myself and be more like him, and emulate him, I then feel closer to him. And that is where my real happiness is.

Debbie vs Reba and the Rad Fads that Ended Up Bad

26 Tuesday Jul 2016

Posted by Colby Alexander in Brothers, General, Humility, Music, Pride

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This is a pretty close representation of Dad’s boom box

When Tyson and I were growing up, everything was a competition. Everything. Among the things we “competed” or fought over were super important things like, who could have the most posters covering the walls of our room, who had the best haircut (mullet vs rat-tail, side-spike vs steps), who would win in 21 tip in, who could eat faster (this was really for 2nd place as Casey was the clear champion here), Ryne Sandberg vs Andre Dawson, and on and on and on. All of this was also compounded by the fact that we shared a room.

Looking back its pretty funny, but one of the more ridiculous things we fought over was our Dad’s old maroon boombox. At that time, it was state of the art. It had dual cassette decks, stereo surround, and a bunch of equalizer buttons. We basically just confiscated it, and hoarded it away in our room to listen to our favorite music.

The daily fight and struggle was over who had the right to listen to who’s music at night as we were falling asleep. This is a sibling battle that may be foreign to all those who never shared a room growing up. But for us, we had to survive those nights when our musical choice had to be put on hold, while we suffered the torture of the other’s music until we fell asleep.

The thing that makes this hilarious is the music we chose. Back in the late 80’s, and early 90’s music was a lot different. Stuff that was cool then, isn’t exactly cool now. Stuff that was perfectly normal listening material to us then, just cracks us up now. To this day, we make fun of each other’s previous childhood musical choices. The beauty of this memory from that particular competition, is that we were both losers.

My personal choice of music varied nightly, but one song, on one tape, has become fodder for Tyson razzing me. It’s a song called “Gonna Love Ya (till the cows come home)” by Reba Macintyre. I know, I know, don’t say anything. I’ve heard it for like 25 years straight now. Trust me. I know. But, just in case you were wondering about that song, here it is…

Tyson, on the other hand, was a bit more eclectic in his choices. He was also a bit more current, and sappy than me. He was also maybe even a little bit “chic flicky”. So, his choice that earned his 25 years of my counter-razzing was, “Lost in Your Eyes” by Debbie Gibson. If you still have room in your doggy bag, here it is…

Now you can clearly understand why we both lost the competition. It was really more like choosing between a colonoscopy and a root canal.

The funniest thing about all this is that we were both supposedly big tough macho guys, and every night, we would argue and fight, nearly coming to blows, over listening to Debbie Gibson or Reba Macyntire! If we had a time machine, we’d probably have to both go back and slap ourselves. But it is hilarious now.

Isn’t it interesting how time changes everything? What is “cool” and “popular” changes. Shows like MacGuyver, and Knight Rider, the best things ever in their time, are now filed away in the “Man, I can’t believe I watched that, this is so lame” category right next to the files for pegged pants, L.A. Gear shoes, and big hair bands. But, such is the way of popular culture. It is always moving on, moving constantly to the next big thing, the next fad, style, sound, or whatever, but the only thing that remains constant is that nothing lasts.

These popular fads don’t ever last because their content isn’t lasting. It’s not even meant to be. People get tired of them because they don’t satisfy the demands of real happiness. Fads have a shelf life of mere moments. Look what happened to the Titanic song by Celine Dion. In its day, it was played on the radio every 3 minutes all over the world and people still couldn’t hear it enough. But now, Its probably on the top 5 list of reasons why people want to pluck their eyes out.

If we look only to things like Debbie Gibson, or songs about cows to make us happy forever, we will only be disappointed (other than maybe laughing at ourselves 25 years later). Real, true happiness that lasts through changing societies, peoples, cultures, and traditions only comes through obedience to God’s laws. And these fortunately don’t change.

“For do we not read that God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and in him there is no variableness neither shadow of changing?”

-Mormon 9:9

“…I give unto you directions how you may act before me, that it may turn to you for your salvation. I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise.

-Doctrine and Covenants 82:9,10

God will not change. His laws will not change. The blessings he pours upon us when we follow his commandments also will not change. They last forever. It is reliable, dependable, lasting and true. We can count on it 100%. Its like a #1 hit song that stays #1 forever.

Its so much easier to play the game, when the out of bounds lines aren’t constantly shifting and changing. When the laws or rules that bring us happiness are constant, dependable, and solid, we know exactly where to look to find and achieve real lasting happiness. Contrast this with following popular culture and its ever shifting views, beliefs, and so-called values. When we follow what is popular, we soon feel like we have one foot on a hover board, and the other on a banana peel.

This ever changing popular culture will try to lure us into the “better ideas” of what will make us happy. We may think, “that particular commandment is outdated, and doesn’t really apply today because…”, or, “I’m good with all of the commandments, except the one that…”, or, “The church needs to…” Remember, when we think that we have a better idea than God, there is a good chance (like 100%) we are wrong.

Many, many people, have thought their ideas were better. Namely, Pharoah when he butted heads with Moses, Goliath and the Philistines, the false priests of Baal, Laman, Lemuel, Laban, and basically the whole world not in Noah’s family boat. Im not sure if anyone is actually keeping score, but God is undefeated. It may be a good idea to be on his team. We aren’t always as smart as we think we are.

The Lord specifically warned us about ourselves and this manner of thinking in the Book of Mormon…

“O that cunning plan of the evil one! O the vainness, and the frailties, and the foolishness of men! When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves, wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not. And they shall perish. But to be learned is good if they hearken unto the counsels of God.”

-2 Nephi 9:28,29

It may seem complicated to navigate through our everyday lives and deal with all the changing standards that the world seems to hold us to. What words we can use, what is offensive, what isn’t, what is normal, what isn’t, and so on. And, if we try and figure out the world’s standards, we will be confused, because they change almost as quickly as they are established. But, if we just hold ourselves up against God’s standard, it becomes super simple. After all, we are all participating in his plan, not ours. He even left us specific instructions that even a 3 year old can understand.

In fact, if we think about it, the mind-bending big questions that world famous philosophers from the beginning of time have contemplated over, argued about, and postulated opinions on, come down to…

Who are we?

Why are we here?

Where did we come from?

Where do we go when we die?

God made his plan so simple, that the smallest primary children can answer these age old questions as soon as they can talk, or sing….

I am a child of God,
And He has sent me here,
Has given me an earthly home
With Parents kind and dear.

Lead me, guide me, walk beside me
Help me find the way,
Teach me all that I must do
To live with him someday.

I am a child of God,
Rich blessings are in store;
If I but learn to do his will,
I’ll live with him once more

I am a child of God
His promises are sure;
Celestial glory shall be mine
If I can but endure

If we follow the instructions that our loving Heavenly Father left us in the words of this simple song, we will find real, lasting happiness not only in our lives here on this earth, but also in our future lives yet to come. When we look at the reasons why we are here on this earth from the proper perspective, isn’t this the #1 hit song that should be #1 forever?

Felonies and Bended Knees

12 Tuesday Jul 2016

Posted by Colby Alexander in Agency, Cars, Failure, General, Journeys, Obedience

≈ 1 Comment

Disclaimer #1: The statute of limitations has long expired for any and all misdeeds explicitly expressed in, and/or eluded to, in the following post.

Disclaimer #2: To the owner of the car subject to the aforementioned misdeeds in disclaimer #1 and subsequent subject in the following story…yeah, sorry about that.

This story is one of those that stays hidden for many years because of fear. The fear of a swift kick in the butt from your Dad, or punishment in a juvenile delinquent facility if the truth ever squeaked out. I can talk about it now, because, as is clearly stated in disclaimer #1, the statute of limitations has expired. And, I don’t live close enough for my Dad to kick my butt anymore. It’s actually kind of funny now, but it sure wasn’t at the time.

This crazy event took place 22 years ago, back when I was 15 and knew everything. I couldn’t drive yet, but I was getting close. I was kind of in that weird teenage time when you are annoyed that you can’t do whatever you want, whenever you want. That was me. I wasn’t a bad kid, but I remember feeling pretty dang smart. It had been a while since my last slice of humble pie.

The incident occurred on a Friday or Saturday night. As was the tradition in those days, myself and my merry band of buddies had just spent most of the night hanging out playing pool (billiards). That was our traditional go to hang out event. We had a good friend (we will call her Cassie to protect her identity) who generously allowed us to utilize the pool table in her basement. This was probably against her better judgment, but being the thoughtful friends that we were, we invited ourselves over all the time. The girls would watch movies, while we boys would have intense pool tournaments, and pretend we were awesome.

This is kind of what we were going for, minus the doogies.

We were all good kids, and had good parents, so, naturally, we all had curfews. We all had the same one- 12 midnight. All of us. However, we were all only 15 and no one had a car, or a driver’s license. This usually meant that one of our parents had to come pick us all up, and systematically drop us all off, all at around 1145 at night. This isn’t exactly cool if you are 15. But, this night would prove to be different.

Whatever possessed us (the boys) that night to decide to walk home is beyond me (the girls were too smart for that). I guess it must have been the cumulative lack of brain power in our 15 year old underdeveloped brains. We were at least smart enough to know that we had to leave before midnight to give ourselves a shot at walking the 7 miles from Santaquin to Payson in order to be home by our curfew. Brilliant idea. Lets walk home, all 7 miles, in the pitch dark, orchard lined back streets with no street lights. What could go wrong? We were awesome like that.

When I say we, I mean there were 7 of us (as far as I remember). Again, to protect the identities of my friends, let’s just call them Brad, Mark, Mo, Blake, Sterling, and Anthony. Anthony only lived a short few blocks away, so he was spared from any culpability or involvement, not that he wouldn’t have been right there with us if given the chance.

That left 6 of us walking home. After a few blocks, myself and “Brad” decided that 7 miles would take longer to walk than we thought. So, we decided we would run home. By running, we would be home early, or at least on time, and by so doing, avoid a royal butt kicking. So we took off, leaving the other 4 guys behind. They were on their own. Remember, this was before cell phones, so calling for a ride after we left “Cassie’s” house wasn’t an option.

We ran straight through and never walked over the next 6.5 miles. And we were on top of the world with how brilliant we were. We were nearly home. But, as fate would have it. Our night was really just beginning. It was at that moment that we discovered what would become the source of our absolute fear for the next several months. We passed an abandoned car, or at least that is what we, in our brilliant 15 year old minds, thought. Never mind the fact that it was parked in cleared away area right by the freeway entrance that most people would recognize as a car pool parking lot. But, oft times, the connection between a 15 year old boy’s eyes and his small underdeveloped brain is blocked by an oversized ego.

Most people with any sense would have walked right by this car, without a second thought. We certainly should have, because we were only about another 3 minutes from being home. But, we were 15, and far from having any sense at all, so, we decided to see if the doors were locked. That’s what any reasonable person would do if they walked past a car that wasn’t theirs night? Nope, we weren’t reasonable. So we checked, and, sure enough, the doors were open. Well, might as well check for keys, right? Yep, lets check. Wow, the keys were in it! So, whats next? Try to start it obviously. So, I tried and tried and tried. But, it wouldn’t start, so I gave up hope. Hope for what I still have no idea. But, then “Brad” tried to start it, and he, actually knowing what a clutch was, was able to get it going. It was obviously a miracle.

So now you have two 15 year olds, without drivers licenses, sitting in a running car at 11:50 at night. So we did what any 15 year old would do in that situation. In our infinite teenage wisdom, and displaying our excellent decision making skills, came up with the most beneficent plan ever conceived. We would serve our fellow man, namely our 4 other walking friends in need, by driving back to them, and giving them a ride back to the spot where we “found” this poor abandoned car.

How thoughtful of us. Then, “Brad” and I (having obviously suffered simultaneous teenage brain infarcts) pulled out of the spot, and proceeded to drive the several miles back to the road where our friends would be, whooping, hollering, and laughing all the way. Life was good. They would be so happy.

Life was good, for another 4 minutes. Then life was not good. Not good at all. We realized about 4 minutes too late that the car we had just borrowed was out of gas. Way out of gas. It stalled in the road about 100 yards from our friends. Great just what we needed. Witnesses. 15 year old boy witnesses.

“Brad” then let the car coast to the side of the road, where we tried desperately and hopelessly to get it started again. We tried for another several minutes, before we realized we would be spending the rest of our lives in a jail cell. Both the brain cells in our heads started firing and wondering what life would be like in juvenile detention.

At that moment our friends walked up and we got hooted out. Sterling especially had a hay day. Anyone that knows him will attest that he can laugh AT someone better than anyone in the whole world. Its a special skill, it’s a gift really. A talent unmatched by anyone in the history of mankind. And he did not disappoint that night. He cackled relentlessly, endlessly, loudly, unrepentantly, and uncontrollably for what seemed like an eternity. We were toast.

Then our brains had to snap back to reality. We then frantically put two and two together and realized that this car was not going to be where the owners left it, when they eventually came back for it. That meant that the cops would be called to help find it. That meant that they would be looking for who took it. That meant that we were in deep do-do. We had to destroy the evidence. So, the brilliant young budding felons that we were, we took our t-shirts and rubbed everywhere we had touched! We had to get rid of our fingerprints! You should have seen us. 6 15 year old kids rubbing every square inch of every handle, door, dash, steering wheel, and fender!

I remember being convinced that the police department had my prints on file because of that one time in cub scouts when we went to the police station and the policeman taught us how they recorded the fingerprints of the criminals as they came in. I was certain that they kept a file of my 9 year old prints just in case. I knew it was only a matter of time. I could run, but I couldn’t hide. I would be making license plates for the rest of my life.

As if becoming a felon guilty of grand theft auto wasn’t enough, this whole incident had taken time. Not only time we didn’t have, but now we were back to almost where we began, now 5 miles from home, and well after our curfew. It was bad. By the time I got back home I fully expected to be strung up, skinned, and left as just a memory and a skid mark in the driveway. I was really late. And I remember getting an earful. Quite an earful. But what could I say? “Sorry Mom and Dad, we would have been back home in time, but instead, we decided to steal a car and drove it back towards Santaquin until it ran out of gas, so we had to abandon it, and then had to run another 5 miles back home.” Yeah right.

So, “Brad” and I waited. We waited for the moment when the cops would knock on our doors, ask for us by name, and read us our miranda rights, and haul us away in cuffs. I remember being scared to death each and every time the doorbell rang, or there was a knock on the door for at least 2 months. No kidding. It wasn’t fun. I lived in continuous fear and anxiety. There was also the very real threat of one of our 4 other friends (witnesses) blabbing all over town with the funniest story ever. Which, would inevitably lead to our arrest and conviction. Thanks guys.

But, it never came. Thankfully, the police record of my 9 year old prints had been misplaced. And we were spared a life scarred by years spent in jail. But, a lesson was learned that night. A lesson that has sunk in over the last 22 years, and still teaches me even today. It was not fun living like that. Worrying constantly about the repercussions of my decision that night. I didn’t want to do anything like that ever again. I couldn’t take it.

As I look back on that story of that night, and all the things I learned from it, I can see similarities to a lot of our lives. Its almost like that 2 hour saga is an abridgment of a life story that has taken a wrong turn. Lets look a little closer at what happened and phrase it only slightly differently. Looking back, this is how I could describe it. Remember, there are lessons, even gospel lessons, in every aspect of our lives. Even when we “borrow” a car without asking.

Listen to it again, this way…

After a great night, I started on the path back home just as I was supposed to. I even decided to hurry to make sure I was home on time. I was pointed in the right direction, committed, determined, and headed to where I should have been. I had traveled 99% of the way on the correct and straight path, without even a slight variation. But, at the last minute, I saw something slightly off the correct course. I knew it was off course, I knew better, but I was curious. So I ignored my better judgment. I decided to just take a moment to check it out. I would be home in just a minute anyway. No harm in checking.

But then the distraction sucked me in. I was hooked. I traded the security of being home on time, for the temporary thrill of the new and exciting. I had ignored the whisperings of my conscience. And before I even realized what had really happened, I was speeding backwards in exactly the wrong direction. And the forces that pulled me in that wrong direction abandoned me, and dumped me far from home.

That temporary, fleeting, and false excitement had deceived me. I fell for it. And it made for a long, even painful road back home. I made it, and we all can make it, even if we mess up, and the lessons we learn the hard way, sometimes stick better in our minds. But, it would have been so much easier if I had just finished that last 1% without even thinking about that distraction on the side of the road. And that is the lesson I keep learning even today. I don’t want to learn any more lessons the hard way.

We are constantly being distracted, and pulled away from who we want to be, and where we want to go. The appeal of the car on the side of the road is different for all of us. For some, it may be drugs or alcohol, pornography, movies, books, or music. For others it may be seemingly harmless hobbies, or social media that just take away so much of our time. It may be small things that distract us, or it could be even bigger faith shaking things that start as a curiosity, but soon lead us to speeding in the opposite direction of the home we were headed towards.

Regardless of what it is, the lesson is the same. We just need to finish, keeping our eyes focused ahead towards our heavenly home. And take it one step at a time. We will also need to take very frequent breaks to kneel down.

When we are committed and determined to make it back to our Father in Heaven, we can finally feel the peace that comes with the journey. The freedom we achieve by following the Savior, and becoming more like him, is not so much a physical place, but a feeling, or a state of mind. Its a freedom from guilt, from torment, and shame. Its a freedom from anxiety for what potential penalty awaits us right around the corner. Its the avoidance of waiting for the cops to come haul us away!

We feel at peace when we follow our Savior. His spirit and his love fills our lives when we make the everyday choices to follow him. We will never be truly at peace if we chase after the temporary thrills of the distractions on the side of the road. Ive been there. If we want to live our lives free of fear, doubt, and anxiety we simply need to walk towards him, and not stop until we get there.

This hymn sums it up perfectly….

I will not doubt, I will not fear;
God’s love and strength are always near.
His promised gift helps me to find
An inner strength and peace of mind.

I give the Father willingly
My trust, my prayers, humility.
His Spirit guides; his love assures
That fear departs when faith endures.

-Hymn 158 “When Faith Endures”

4 brothers blog

Author Archives: Colby Alexander

Just Breathe

Cappuccino, Coke, and Courage

Digging Ditches to Be Happy

Thwimmin’ Thoup and Mac ‘n’ Doo

Titles of Liberty

Lost in Translation

“I Am a Nephite.”

I Wanna Be Like Tikes

Debbie vs Reba and the Rad Fads that Ended Up Bad

Felonies and Bended Knees

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