Prophet

I'd heard Jesus be called a prophet before, in the hymn, "I Know that My Redeemer Lives":
"He lives, my Prophet, Priest, and King", but I'd never really thought before recently about Jesus being called a prophet. At His triumphal entry into Jerusalem, to start His final week, "the multitude said, This is Jesus the prophet of Nazareth of Galilee" (Matt. 21:11). My NT professor said that when John the Baptist died, part of what Jesus was feeling was that now He was the leader, now He was the prophet. In verse 46, the priests and the Pharisees don't seize Him at that time, because they fear the multitude, who see Him as a prophet. I don't think I'm covering all the senses of the title, but when He was on the earth, Jesus was the head of His Church, because He was the very Gospel, the very Way for us to return to live with His Father and Our Father. Jesus was the spiritual leader of the time on the earth, which, to me, today, seems like a very interesting situation, one that only occurred once in the history of the world.

The following is one of my favorite poems. It was written in 1872 by Josiah Gilbert Holland. It gives me hope as I think about what Christ teaches in the Sermon on the Mount, to become perfect as Father in Heaven is perfect.

Gradatim

Heaven is not gained at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit, round by round.

I count this thing to be grandly true:
That a noble deed is a step towards God,—
Lifting the soul from the common sod
To a purer air and a broader view.

We rise by the things that are 'neath our feet;
By what we have mastered of good and gain;
By the pride deposed and the passion slain,
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,
When the morning calls us to life and light,
But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night,
Our lives are trailing the sorid dust.

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray,
And we think that we mount the air on wings
Beyond the recall of sensual things,
While our feet still cling to the heavy clay.

Wings for the angels, but feet for men!
We may borrow the wings to find the way—
We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray;
But our feet must rise, or we fall again.

Only in dreams is a ladder thrown
From the weary earth to the sapphire walls;
But the dream departs, and the vision falls,
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.

Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit, round by round.

Josiah Gilbert Holland


As I read about Jesus Christ in the New Testament, I'm more and more amazed that, although He was perfect, in that He never sinned, there is evidence He was not omniscient, or complete, from birth. He went about doing good, and He stood up for the right. He was moved with compassion--Jesus really was a person, a human. The Son of God, a perfect human, but human. He felt pain, physical and emotional. I've read in the Doctrine and Covenants: "And I, John, saw that he received not of the ^afulness at the first, but received ^bgrace for grace" D&C 93:12.
By putting things " 'neath my feet" and "the pride deposed and the passion slain," I can build a ladder to get me to heaven. Jesus Christ built a perfect ladder and made it possible for me to build mine.

Back in the USA

After four semesters in Canada, away from BYU, I'm back. It's quite the adjustment. Life was good in Canada. I was serving a mission for the Church (of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). Never have I experienced such joy and sorrow and trials and blessings. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, yet, I find myself longing to go back. It's not as though I feel I have unfinished business--I knocked on thousands of doors, talked to thousands of people, had conversations about Jesus Christ and Joseph Smith and the Bible with hundreds of people, all day, everyday, for the full two years. It's just that as a missionary, I constantly had an outlet to help me feel better: service. As I gave people the chance to learn more about God, or as I physically helped them around their house, I felt useful. I felt like what I was doing was important, even if it was just pulling weeds or moving boxes. Being a missionary feels so good.
Now I'm back to civilian life: working, socializing, and studying. It can be easy to go for awhile without doing any service. But I know that when I do something for someone, I feel so much better about being home again.
Soon I will be normal again. But hopefully, a new and improved normal.