Our Saviour’s Love

“We love him, because he first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)

It’s been a good Easter. The family has been together a lot. My mother-in-law, Silvana, has also been here. She is really sweet. She took all of the kids one night so Angelica and I could have a date for the first time in who knows how long. Having small children is wonderful, but being alone with your wife now and then is worth gold. But the weird thing… not long after you leave your children, you start missing them, even though you finally got the chance to get away for awhile.

I think what made it such a nice Easter celebration was that it got off to a wonderful start. On Friday morning I had planned to sleep in, but our bed got invaded very early by creature who looked just like our kids. Oh great, I sighed, there goes my much needed rest. But after doing my ritual stretching and eye-opening exercises I started to feel good, a feeling that also came from the peaceful serenity of the moment; there we were, all five of us, lying next to each other, and it was calm. Yes, calm. No kids jumping on my stomach. No teasing. No whining. Then Clara leans over to her mother, puts her hands on Angelica’s cheeks, and says: “Love…”

While Angelica is in tears from hearing Clara attempting to say “I love you” for the very first time (at least so we could understand her), Johannes is the next to surprise us. He said: “You know, I would die for Clara!” Hearing him, but not altogether ready for such profound words so early in the morning, I said: “What!” He answered: “If something bad was about to happen to Clara, and she might die, then I would want to die in her stead. Because I have lived so long, but she has her whole life in front of her.” Without saying much I just hugged him. He sure has his good moments.

Then Angelica and I looked at each other. We were thinking the same thing: Where does all this love come from? Not that I think we are an unloving family, but our regular mornings don’t usually spoil us like this. Maybe that was the answer: This was not a regular morning. Instantly I remembered. It was Easter Friday. That was day our Lord and Saviour suffered and died on the cross, for the sake of all mankind. At times you just have to follow your heart, so I grabbed the Bible and asked if I could read something for everyone. No one protested (another miracle). So I opened the Gospel of Luke and read his account of the last supper, the suffering in Gethsemane, the false trails, and the final degradation of Jesus when he was nailed on the cross.

After finishing we spoke with our children about the atonement of Christ, and how blessed we were to have felt His unconditional love in our lives, also this very morning. I am convinced that having that peaceful start of Easter made it much better than what it otherwise would have been. But it wasn’t thanks to us. It was thanks to Him! He knew what we needed.

But you know, what we need is no different from what you need. We all need God’s love. It’s the only sure remedy for all the corners of this ol’ world - your’s too.

An Easter Angel

One of many things I love about our Church is that it invites us to not only worship on Sundays or once a year, but teaches us that faith is an every day issue. One thing latter day saints are encouraged to do during the week, for example, is to have family home evening. This is held for most members on Monday night. The whole idea is to have one night a week where each family member has no other plans than those of being together as a family. We believe that family unity is a core essential for happiness, not only within the walls of all our homes, but also within all the borders of society. So to have this opportunity, in a world that is so stressed it never lets us have time for each other, is a wonderful, not to say inspired idea.

This week we had a special guest for family home evening. It was Lena Bomgren, our Ward’s Primary president (the leader of the children’s program in our congregation). We usually see her every week at Church, but meeting her on Sunday, she said that she felt like she wanted to do something more for our family. She and the other’s in our Ward had done so much good for us already, we thought, but we graciously accepted her offer. We sensed her good will and desire to spread love to our children, and perhaps help Johannes to have some fun, thus taking his mind off the pain in his leg - if only for a while.

She knew our kids loved to paint and do crafts (in Swedish: pyssla), so she brought several bags of Easter-fun. After starting our home evening with song and prayer, and a spiritual thought from the father (which my children reminded me had to be very short this time… ha, ha), then we moved on to the activity, as seen below.

Lena is wearing the red sweater. (How about that suspicious look from Clara?)

Our Easter chickens are done. I can’t help but laugh at Isak’s work of art. He made two of these chickens, one of which is “dad”. Guess who? Yep, the tall one. Every time he depicts me somewhere I am always twice as big as the rest. Funny, cause I’m not that big… although I am involuntarily working on it!

Before Lena left we had mom’s delicious brownies with ice cream. Our children spoke casually with Lena, and my wife and I rejoiced that Johannes, especially, had had a few moments to forgot about his medical condition, and just have a good time instead. That meant a lot to us. Sure, for Lena this might not have been the greatest sacrifice (cause I know she also enjoyed it), but for us it was the greatest blessing of this week. And we know that she did it to make us and our children happy, without any conditions, nor payment from Church funds. Just love - shown in pure service.

So we name her “Angel of the week”, our Easter Angel.

After the Heart Surgery

I know that some of you who have read the posts A Prayer for the Heart are wondering about the aftermath of our son Johannes’ heart surgery. Well, as far as his heart goes, he’s done really fine. Everything is healing rapidly, and his chest scar is looking good also (better than before actually). We have also been able to cut down on most medication since he feels little or no pain, concerning that part of his body, at least.

But… something else has happened. Johannes received a problem with his lower left leg. The days after surgery we remember that he complained about a tinging feeling in his left foot, that actually had swollen some too. Everyone at the hospital thought it was just a small thing in passing, caused by the fact that he had laid still for so long. But he had troubles standing up and walking about, and that worried us. Still we were reached by a constant flow of comforting words that this would soon be over - whatever it was.

The thing was, we wanted to know. We just felt that we couldn’t leave anything to chance. Especially when we saw that his leg wasn’t getting any better, but in fact worse. So for a few weeks now we have let Johannes go through another series a hospital visits here in Stockholm, doing all kinds of tests, including an MRT (in Swedish: magnetröntgen). What the doctors suspect has happened (but they’re still not positively sure) is that Johannes’ left leg was somehow exposed to some kind of pressure during his surgery, resulting in nerve damaged. They think it’s something called peroneuspares, a “drop foot” state when you can’t flex the foot backwards.

We had never heard about this so we got acquainted with it on the Internet. Among other things, it stated that although this condition usually is curable, it can take a long time. In some cases people have lived with “drop foot” for the remainder of their lives. This didn’t exactly add to our hopes.

On the other hand, I had a feeling that this was yet another hurtle for Johannes (and us together) to jump over, and that he would heal rapidly. The hardest part, however, has been helping Johannes to believe this also. Throughout this whole ordeal I admire him for his strength in upholding his faith, but I can’t lie and say he’s happy about this last development. Not seldom has he wondered why he had to go through yet another trail; wasn’t it enough to have a heart surgery? Now he’s often in discomfort or pain, and has great trouble walking.

But overall he’s doing his best. I hope we are too. In the end that’s all you can do, and then leave the rest to God. We have given him a blessing, in which we all felt the love of God, certain that He is there, still guiding Johannes by the hand. We also keep praying for his rapid recovery, and grateful to others we know are doing the same.

But although faith is the answer, I think sometimes people misunderstand the principle. It’s not merely believing, and then sitting back, waiting for a miracle. Faith is also a force which motivates us into action. Like now, for example, with Johannes. We have taken him to a physical therapist who has given him some exercises he must do every day. Here faith has to be transformed into a positive attitude; simply put, he has to know that if he works hard at overcoming his ailment, believing it can work - then it will work. I’ve live long enough to know that this saying is true: God helps those who help themselves.

Although Johannes is not filled with these positive thoughts all the time (but who would be), he is working really hard now at his recovery. And whenever his own faith is lacking, his parents will pitch in an extra dose for him. That’s what we have agreed upon. And he’s happy about that. So… however we get there - we will get there.

And you know what? It’s working.

A photo from last week, taken with my mobile camera, showing a happy Johannes. He’s smiling because he finally was let out of the MRT machine. For 45 minutes he had to lay dead still, which up until that day had been impossible because of his discomforted leg. It’s a small miracle… but those count as well.

Look Upwards

We sat and watched Gorden B Hinckley’s funeral service this weekend on the Internet. It was very moving. At the end, during the closing song, as images were being projected of the life of President Hinckley, I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. Isak asked carefully: “Dad… are you crying?”

First I wanted to deny it, not wanting my sons to focus on me, but rather on the broadcast, but as the trickle turned into a steady stream of tears, there was no way of hiding it. But at that moment a thought came to me: Let them see, it’s okay; let them see you cry; let them see the tears shed for a beloved prophet. So I replied: “Yes, son… it’s because I loved him so very much.”

“Dad, you’re gonna make me cry too!”

I smiled. “It’s okay, son.”

But then he started off as if he had the most brilliant idea: “Hey! Why are we looking at this?” Hmm, I thought, that was a nice moment, but there goes his concentration. But he quickly added: “Why don’t we look upwards instead?”

“Upwards?” I asked bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“Cause he’s not there! He’s not in the casket! Why do we look at the casket when he’s really in heaven? Let’s look upwards instead!” To Isak it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Probably because it was.

I just laughed through my tears. “Okay, let’s look upwards.”

Isak and Johannes viewing the broadcast of President Gordon B Hinckley’s funeral.

 

Why a Prophet? (2): The Story of the Nutty Prophet

In reference to Why a Prophet? (1), how can one then, in actual fact, know that a prophet is a true prophet? Let me give you a somewhat different approach:

About six years ago a man came for regular visits to our local congregation. He looked just like a prophet, or rather, the way you would expect an ancient prophet to look like: an older man (although he wasn’t that old) with a meager outfit and a really long beard. He had an inward bound character and appeared, to put it mildly, to be missing some screws and bolts.

Then without warning, during a Sunday worship service, he stands up and shouts: “I am a prophet! I have come to warn you! The Holy Spirit has told me that half of this congregation will die of cancer within six months!” Ooops. The Ushers tried to gently lead him out, but had a bit of trouble as he was starting to get forceful, his voice raising a pitch as he kept chanting the same words over and over.

Up until then I had remained in my seat with my family, watching my 4-year-old son’s goggle-eyes. Who ever said Church wasn’t exciting? Wanting to help, however, I walked out into the hallway, where I began addressing the man calmly, asking him questions about what he was doing, and why. To my surprise he settled down, completely. Not bad, I thought. But the trick was on me. SMACK!!! Before I could blink he had placed a swift, right hook across my jaw. It was a perfect hit. In the same motion he begun swinging his arms like helicopter blades as he went after me again. Instinctively, I ducked under his attack and threw myself at him, grabbing him above the waist in a bear hug, pushing him out the main door, and falling on top of him on the snow covered grass.

Still dizzy from the blow, I tried to orient myself. Underneath me was a nutty prophet, squiggling like a worm, screaming for his release. As calmly as my shaking adrenaline aloud me, I said: “I’ll let you go if you promise to respect our right to worship here as we please - without any threats or outbursts from you!”

But I was talking to a brick wall. He didn’t want to listen. “Let me go!” he shouted again. “You heard my terms,” I said. “I will let you go once I hear your promise.” This word struggle was repeated a third time until he finally subdued. “Okay, okay,” he said with sharp disappointment, “just let me go!” I then released him from my grip, and we both got up from the snow. Never taking my eyes away from him, he brushed himself off and started to walk away. I never saw him again.

Use Common Sense
The first and most obvious point of this story is to use your common sense when considering if someone is speaking in behalf of God - or not. Of course, in the above, extreme case even a fool would have noticed that the “prophet” was way out of tune. By applying the process of elimination this fellow immediately drops out of the race for candidates running for the office of prophet. But in many other cases this is how it is as well, more or less; just by using your common sense, you can select which “prophet” to believe in, and which not to. All you have to do is look at what they do and say, and wooops, there goes a majority of them.

Look at the Fruits
I guess another way of describing it is looking at their fruits. In fact, this is Jesus’ own remedy against false prophets: “Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them” (Matt 7:20). Another day I would like to expand on this, but today it will be enough to quote the prophet Moroni who wrote that “everything that inviteth and enticeth to do good, and to love God, and to serve him, is inspired of God”; if not, it is “of the devil” (Moroni 7:13f). This key is crucial, and it’s really this simple: Either a “prophet” dedicates his life to help bring you closer to Christ, or he has another self-serving agenda in mind. With a little help from your heart, you can tell which it is.

Listen to the Spirit
The next step is praying to have the Holy Spirit guide you, especially if you’re still unsure. The Spirit will confirm the truth of all things (Moroni 10:5), I testify of it. He is not just some mystical force, but a true member of the Godhead. He is real. He is sent to us by a loving heavenly Father to not only serve as a Comforter, but also to teach us all things (John 14:26). Wouldn’t you think that such a crucial question, like knowing if God speaks today through a living prophet, would be answered by God himself? Who else would you turn to - I mean, if you really wanted to know? How correct was not Paul, the apostle, when he wrote that we can only know about God through the Spirit of God (1 Cor 2:11). And the good thing about the Spirit: He will come… as long as we ask.

Test the Prophesies
Once you have gone through these simple, yet faith-demanding steps, there is still a last one. After observing, pondering, praying, and finally receiving a witness from the Spirit, then follow the evidences, or signs, if you will. But in reality, the signs will only verify to your mind what your heart already knows is true, thus securing you faith a second time. So what are the signs then? God tells Moses: “When a prophet speaketh in the name of the Lord, if the thing follow not, nor come to pass, that is the thing which the Lord hath not spoken” (Deut 18:22). It’s a simple enough test. It actually allows the process of elimination to cast its verdict a second time, seeing that so many individuals and churches have mistakenly prophesied this or that, as our local visitor did. (Note: There was never any cancer growth, only the growth of the congregation.) Testing the prophesies is like coming around full circle:

If we start by using a little common sense, and adding a dose of faith, in the end everything will makes sense.

I cannot tell you what to do, but can invite you: Listen to the words of the prophet. Follow the words. Test them and see for yourself! Let them bless your life, as they have blessed mine. There is nothing to loose… but everything to gain.

Your friend,
Brother Louis

Help Thou My Unbelief

Last week I taught a few Institute of Religion classes at Bolliaden, a Young Adult conference in the Church. The theme of the conference was Walking on the Straight Path. The students brought a good spirit and the participation level was high. Like I often say, I feel privileged to teach in such settings, especially since I feel as though I have been taught just as much - if not more - as my students.

Our discussion came to focus a lot on faith, as being the opposite of fear. A few of the many scriptural references were found in the gospel of Mark. One of the most well known is found in 5:36:

“Be not afraid, only believe.”

What power a sentence like this has. Can you even begin to understand what miracles and giant leaps you can experience in your life if you just put away the fear that keeps you bound, and put all your faith in Christ instead. Turning a few pages in Mark we find in 9:23 another great truth that Jesus spoke:

“If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.”

These words were spoken to a desperate man who had carried his son to Jesus, in hope that He would help remove the son’s “dumb [evil] spirit”. Upon hearing Jesus’ reassuring words, the father exclaimed: “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief” (9:24). Prior to my lesson I had reflected quite a bit on these words. I can understand why the father would say “Lord, I believe”, but why does he add “help thou my unbelief”? Doesn’t it seem like a contradiction?

But then one of the students from Danmark made a comment that bordered on some of my personal thoughts, and I was touched by what he said. He explained that many people came to Jesus to be healed. In fact, at times the rumor of Jesus’ miracles had spread so much that people came from far and wide just to take part in some sign or other. Did everyone that came to Jesus have witness of Him as Lord and Saviour of the world? No. Many of them didn’t even know who he was, just that he was some sort of miracle man, or magician, perhaps. This father may well have fitted into that category of persons, desperate for some help, like so many others.

The student went on to say that after the man had said to Jesus that he believed, there was probably an exchange of glances, a moment where Jesus eyes might have asked the man: “Yes, you may believe I can do this, but… do you really believe in me?” A chord may have been hit in the father, for then he cried out to Jesus to “help his unbelief”.

Naturally, we don’t know all the details in their encounter, but I think both I and the students felt the spiritual meaning of Jesus’ words to this father. We came to realize that many of us are like this poor man; the natural man in us will not turn as often as he should to God, with exception of those moments when he stands in some desperate need, and need immediate help. This saddens me. Jesus wants to be - and needs to be - a part of our everyday life, not just on occasions “suitable” for us. Do we believe in him or do we really believe in him? If not the latter, then we must join in the father’s words:

“Help though my unbelief.”

A Gift from the Heart

Our family has adopted a special Christmas tradition that I guess could be blended with New Years resolutions. After all the presents were opened, stomachs stuffed with goodies, and the general noise level subdued, the attention rate of our children was a lot better after than before Santa’s arrival. Since timing is everything with kids, that’s when we hit ‘em with the nativity story in Luke, chapter 2, after which we talked about the wonders of that first Christmas.

We always end this discussion with thoughts about gifts. Real gifts. Just as the wise men came to honor the newborn Saviour with precious gifts, there are gifts we also can give to Him. But these packages are not hard or soft, nor can they be purchased with dollars. They have to make a real difference. Although these are gifts written as simple words on a piece of paper, they are stuck in the chambers of the heart, hopefully forever.

I did search my heart carefully this time. What would be my greatest gift to Him this year? I didn’t need long to think; I’ve known it for some time: Patience. In the past I have always seen myself as one with much patience, but during the last few years it has started to slip from me. And I want it back! I’m not myself without it, and my family needs a father and a husband who will cherish that virtue better than he has lately.

I wrote the word down on a note, just like the others did, and we put them all in a wooden box which my two sons placed underneath the Christmas tree. Lord Jesus… here is our gift.

Happy New Year! (Make it a good one!)

Loosing Agnes, Gaining Love

A week ago we lost one of our oldest, but dearest members of our congregation, Agnes Traviss. Yesterday her funeral was held. Until my release two months ago, I had been her bishop for many years. I had truly enjoyed her company. She always wore that gleaming smile on her face that would make you forget your own worries for a moment. Often when I looked at her from the stand I thought about her life as a single woman, struggling to get by. She had had many reason to complain, but never once did I hear a bitter word from her lips. On the contrary, she always gave thanks and praise, especially to her Lord Jesus, who had given her the richest of lives. This was the lasting impression and legacy she left to my heart: her perfect example of gratitude. Imaging if we all could adopt this feeling of appreciation for life, and not think so much on what we are missing, but rather about the wonderful gifts already in our hands.

As awkward as it sounds, I believe her death has actually increased my love. I was given a chance to sing at her funeral. For obvious reasons, I usually get quite choked up when singing at funerals, but yesterday was different. I felt a great calm come over me, especially as I thought of Agnes. The thought came to mind of the last time I saw her alive. I had gone to visit her in the hospital on a Sunday, and taken with me some youth from Church. We had chatted about life for awhile, after which we sang two hymns for her. Then we blessed the sacrament (communion) and gave it to her. I remember how happy she was. It didn’t seem to matter to her that her whole body was on the brink of destruction, now that her spirit had been renewed. Again the gratitude. Again the love to her Saviour.

As I thought of this during my song, and in the following moments, I came to understand more clearly how important each individual is, and how we have to impart unconditional love to all we come in contact with. This is what Jesus taught, especially the kind of love shown to the needy. In James 1:27 we read:

“Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction and to keep himself unspotted from the world.”

So when it comes down to it, it matters little about the amount of knowledge we possess, or how load we shout the name of Jesus (as some people do, thinking this act will save them somehow). “Pure religion” is something else: It’s not knowing or saying - it’s doing; it’s caring about the poor and the needy, or the lonely, as in Agnes’ case. If we don’t care for the needy in the spirit of true charity then we are just as Paul described, a “tinkling cymbal” (I Cor 13:1), a person making a lot of noise, but doing no good.

So yes, I carry a sadness in my heart today for the loss of Agnes. But I am also happy she helped me realize what the power of love can do to a person. And although I am only human, I hope through the grace of God that my eyes will be opened so I can truly see the needs of others. I pray we all can.

This is a picture of Agnes with some friends from Church at our traditional, Swedish lobster party last year. You will notice her smile, something she always wore.

For the Endowments of Life

Last week I attended a CES Conference. At one point a friend and colleague gave all the participants a few minutes to write a personal psalm. I’m not a poet, I know, but I was still glad to have a few solitary moments to clear the world from my mind and write these words of gratitude. For the wonders of the earth, I adore Thee For the light in heaven, I see Thee For the glories of thy creations, I admire Thee For the blessing of family, I honor Thee For the companionship of friends, I thank Thee For the power of Thy Word, I worship Thee For the gift of Thy Son, I praise Thee For the Spirit that enlightens me, I follow Thee For all the endowments of life - I love Thee If I were to add (my own) images to my thoughts it could look something like this. For the wonders of the earth, I adore Thee For the light in heaven, I see Thee For the glories of thy creations, I admire Thee For the blessing of family, I honor Thee For the companionship of friends, I thank Thee For the power of Thy Word, I worship Thee For the gift of Thy Son, I praise Thee For the Spirit that enlightens me, I follow Thee For all the endowments of life - I love Thee Comments to some pictures: Nr 4 shows my family; nr 5 shows some colleagues and friends; nr 6 shows a recent baptism in Lodz, Poland, in a ‘home-made’ baptismal font; nr 7 shows one of my Polish Institute students with a painting of Christ in the background.

What Beats a Bedtime Story?

What beats a bedtime story? How about four bedtime stories?

My sons kidnapped me! They wouldn’t let me go. I started with one story (which was our deal), then a second, just to show them I cared. When my time was up, the little terrorists started pressing me. “You’re not a nice daddy if you leave now”; and “We’re going tell mommy that you…” (well, we’ll skip that part…). “Okay”, I answered with faked authority, “but only one more!” Somehow that one became two.

You know, life is big! The universe with all it’s wonders encircle us. Mankind has reached its height in terms of scientific discoveries. Still we’re just getting started. Technology is entertaining us with gadgets to many to number. At this very moment you are sitting here, surfing the net, reading this blog, looking for information, or searching for some kind of happiness through this miraculous world wide web. (Who would have thought it possible a generation ago?)

Still. With all the depths and heights of our existence on earth, few things we experience can match the wonders of a bedtime story moment. No computers, no television, no loud music. Just person to person. Child to parent. Smile to smile. Heart to heart.

What can beat that?

Louis

Christ Heals Family

One of my duties as a CES Coordinator is to visit teachers and students in their various classes, assisting with administrative matters. Last night, as I met with a class in central Sweden, I spoke at length with the teacher about her recent family tragedy. Her twenty-one year old son had passed away a month ago in a motor accident.

She explained that even though there had been many tears and a feeling of void in their lives, there had still been light - even peace. I asked her how it was possible? She spoke calmly but resolute: “It’s because of Christ.” I thought for a second about others who have expressed similar words, and although I for the most part have little reason to doubt their sincerity, there was something different about this woman. She really meant what she said. I could see it in her countenance; still the same person, yes, but different still.

“How do you mean?” I asked. She explained that she had always believed in the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ, at least in theory. “But now”, she said, “I know it really works!” Excitement gathered in her eyes as she continued, speaking also for her family: “Even though we have known that Christ has taken all our burdens upon himself, we have never felt it the way we do now. There are no why’s or if’s! Just a peaceful assurance that God is with us, lifting us when our own strength fails us.”

Many times have I felt the power of Jesus’ atonement. His healing power is real, no doubt. But I was still awestruck by the words I heard (and there were many more) last night. In a moment when most people would resort to despair and perhaps fear, this family had opened its heart to God - and was healed.

When we parted she thanked me sincerely for coming. “No problem,” I said, a little ashamed, “but… I should be the one thanking you!” I had come there hoping to give something to this teacher and her family, but I knew it was I who was at the receiving end.

Thank you.

Have I Messed Up My Kids?

“Dad, do you always have to bring that camera?” Haven’t I heard those words a thousand times?

“Yes, my son, I do!” I said patronisingly, “and one day you’ll thank me for doing you this favor! Just get up there and enjoy yourself!”

Both of my sons knew the drill. When dad takes up that big lens, that’s the signal. We were at Church, with all of the Primary (”Sunday school”) children practicing for their annual presentation at worship service. My boys got up on the stand with the rest, and after a few minutes when they spotted me, they cranked up their smiles. Can you guess who they are?

That’s nice, I thought. But I just wanted a “situation” shot. I tried to discretely signal to them to pretend I wasn’t there - and to just look normal! They both nodded. Good, they understood. Then my finger reaches the shutter, and I have a nice image in the view finder. But right as I press down…

Thanks, guys!I got the “stupid” look instead. They have been practicing on that one more frequently, most likely in protest to what they view as my exaggerated photographic zeal.

I just laughed. Poor kids, I have really messed them up, haven’t I?