He loveth those who will have him to be their God

I've been thinking a lot lately about faith and desire and belief. Actually, I've probably been thinking about this for years, but recently it's begun to crystallize in my mind. I was reading a comment board on NPR. The story was about a former nun who now writes books about her views of God. I don't know her, and haven't read her, and it's not that central to this particular train of thought, but what struck me was this comment (taken out of context of the rest of his post, I know, but I'm going to think out loud about it anyway. If you want to read the comments and listen to the NPR story, you can find it here--http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=112968197)

Anyway, this is the man's comment--"If a deity were suddenly to appear and offer proof of their existence, many atheists including myself would undoubtedly reevaluate our lack of belief." Hmmm.

I'll come back to that. But let me begin another thread to weave in. Ten years ago when I was on my LDS mission, my pres. said something in a zone conference that has stuck with me more than anything else has during those 18 months. No, it wasn't "A sister without makeup is like an elder without deodorant," although I, unlike others on the mish, found it funny and apropos. He described a weed that has such strong, tenacious roots, that once it is in your field, it ain't never coming out. He asked us to consider how deep our roots in the gospel are, to consider what it would take to get us out of our faith, to give up our God. I remember clearly at that moment, praying that my answer would be nothing--that my roots would be so deep, so firm and persistent that no power could separate me from my God. And feeling not exactly fear, but something like fear, that I was not deep or firm or persistent enough.

Another thread. A friend and I had a conversation about faith and religion and the afterlife and all that the other night. He's probably best described as an agnostic, and as we talked about our beliefs, I began to articulate what I've come to understand about myself and my faith. I don't know that God exists in the sense that the atheist commenter or my agnostic friend would define knowledge. I've not touched him, or sat in the same room with the Savior. I'm still very much exercising faith in a plan that beyond just believing, I desire to believe. I want to believe it, so badly that my desire to believe overwhelms my many, many doubts and weaknesses.

Where that desire comes from? I'm not entirely sure. Moments too personal and sacred to discuss here are certainly part of it, but they are few and far between, and usually very quiet and quick. They sustain in some ways, but if I depended only on these experiences, there would be long, long periods of strain and sadness and trial, and I would not stand faithfully in the stretches between. Desire is part of it, but it's a desire buoyed by will, by the choice I make to want God and his will for me more than anything or anyone else. One is the spark and the other the fuel. Which is spark and which fuel? Again, I don't know. All I know is that I can't keep the fire of the covenant burning without both the desire and the will to believe.

I was struck by the words of Nephi this week as I read the Book of Mormon. Nephi is commanded to do a lot of things that his brothers Laman and Lemuel are not so keen on. When God commands him to build a ship, his brothers try to stop him, and he recounts God's power, his creation and his dealings with his prophets and people, trying to exhort Laman and Lemuel to cease their unfaithfulness. In 1 Nephi 17:40, Nephi tells his brothers "and he loveth those who will have him to be their God." I had never noticed this verse before, but it jumped off the page at me this time. God offers himself--his love, his plan, the opportunity to live the quality of life he lives--to us, his children. He doesn't force himself upon us, only offers. Beyond that, it's up to us to "have him to be our God." I think it is such a tender statement. Here is the creator of the universe--the possessor of unlimited power who could, if he so desired, force us to do his will--offering this gift like a humble suitor. Beautiful.

Last night at the General Relief Society meeting, I was reminded of this again. We sang (as we do in every conference, every spring and fall, for as long as I can remember. Why is that?) How Firm a Foundation. The last verse of that hymn touched me more than anything else last night. It reads

The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose,
I will not, I cannot desert to his foes.
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I'll never, no never, I'll never forsake.

I will not. It comes before "I cannot." I cannot turn from my God because it would be against my own will to do it. I have leaned on Jesus for repose, at times without even realizing it. Feeling that love has created in me a desire for him and his gospel, one that I have bent my will to, a desire that I have chosen.

I think that atheist poster is missing the point of faith. Given the evidence he requires, his reevaluation of deity would unlikely really matter. He could know, in the sense that he lacks now, that God exists and Christ is the savior of the world. In fact, the scriptures say that every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Christ is the Lord. I believe that statement. There will be a time when deity provides undeniable proof of his existence, but it will have no efficacy in the lives of those who waited to be forced to believe.

You become what you desire and what you will. God, in his infinite power and wisdom, asks his children to choose him. He will not force himself upon any of us because it would never save us. It certainly could not exalt us. We have to become partners with God, covenanted to him and faithful to the covenant, to achieve our greatest potential. Some will never desire or choose that. My prayer is that I will. I will, not in the sense of assurance, but in the sense of agency. Christ's infinite sacrifice gives me the chance to choose, and my desire and will is for him.

I feel his hand extended to me, and I reach my hand willingly to him. There is a gap, a gulf really between our fingers. My roots are not yet deep or firm or persistent enough. But I'm learning to stretch, learning to lean into him, learning to desire his will above my own. One day, I know, his hand and mine will finally bridge that gap, and he will lead me into the life that I most truly desire.