When I was little, my best friend lived exactly halfway around the block from me. It’s hard to imagine these days, but I had permission as a 5-year-old to walk there all by myself—and I did—a lot. One day, the thought crossed my mind that I could probably walk to my friend’s house without looking. My prekindergarten brain wasn’t hard to convince, and I set off with my eyes closed. After a dozen steps fortunately, I realized I needed to get a little glimpse of where I was. So, I peeked through slitted eyes at my surroundings then closed them again and kept on walking. I repeated that process until finally, when my friend’s house was in view, I closed my eyes tightly one last time, confidently strode forward, and walked face-first into a telephone pole.
I learned a hard lesson that day, a very hard, hard telephone-pole lesson. Unfortunately, 50 years later, I still find myself running into some things and totally missing others not realizing until it’s too late that, figuratively speaking, I’ve had my eyes closed. Today I want to talk about ‘glimpses’ and three reasons they are important—even for those of us who have been around the block a few times.
First, we can’t see what we can’t see. Paul made it clear that things aren’t clear when he wrote in his first letter to the Corinthians, “For now we see through a glass, darkly.”[1] And in his dream, Lehi saw both a “dark and dreary waste” and “mists of darkness.”[2] Apparently, not being able to see well is part of our human experience. That’s just how things are. We experience reality through dark mists and dark glasses.
Occasionally, we might notice it’s dark, but I think that often because we are so accustomed to not seeing, we don’t even realize it. In fact, we tend to think our vision is clear. At least I do. I think, “I have things figured out. I have matured. I have a degree. I have learned from the ‘school of hard knocks,’” and therefore, I think my eyes are wide open. I think I am wise. If you ever find yourself thinking like this, watch out! Isaiah warns us, “Woe unto them that are wise in their own eyes, and prudent in their own sight!”[3] And Jacob echoes, “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.”[4]
I have heard again and again that the more we learn, the more important it is to recognize how little we know. When, as a green missionary, I could speak almost no Spanish, my trainer, Elder Muñoz, thought it was funny to make me publicly recite, “Solo se que nada se, y aún de eso, no estoy seguro.” In English, it means, “I only know that I know nothing, and even of that, I am not sure.” Occasional glimpses are important because without them, we lean to our own obscured understanding, collide with hard lessons, or miss seeing things that are needed for a successful journey home. Instead, we should trust in the Lord with all our heart and allow Him to direct our paths.[5]
In a conference talk, Elder Neil L. Andersen once described how his neighbor had encouraged him to spray his lawn with an insecticide after noticing a single mole cricket crossing the sidewalk one evening. Mole crickets are small, brown insects known to wreak havoc on green lawns. But Elder Andersen had just sprayed for pests, so after carefully examining his lawn for more than a week, he concluded that it was fine and congratulated himself for not overreacting to his neighbor’s advice. He was shocked to later discover that, as a result of his neglect, his once lush lawn was ruined. Elder Andersen reflected that his neighbor:
"...Saw things I could not see. He knew something I did not know. He knew that mole crickets live underground and are active only at night, making my daytime examinations ineffective. He knew that mole crickets did not eat the leaves of the grass but rather found nourishment in the roots. He knew that these little inch-long creatures could eat a lot of roots before I would ever see the effect above the ground. I paid a dear price for my smug independence.[6]
Do you ever feel “smugly independent?” I know I do, but remembering that I am seeing “through a glass darkly” helps humble me. I am genuinely thankful for a living prophet and other inspired church leaders. I look forward to hearing their counsel this weekend. I believe that, like Elder Andersen’s neighbor, they see things I don’t see and understand things I don’t understand. I believe God sends warnings through His church leaders who “see afar off”[7] so that the damage done to the lawn of human happiness by ‘spiritual mole crickets’ can be prevented or minimized. Through His chosen leaders, God gives us glimpses of things we cannot see.
A second reason glimpses are important is because glimpses act as witnesses after trials or acts of faith.[8] Darkness gives us a chance to exercise our faith, and as a result, we accumulate “evidence of things not seen.”[9]
For example, in last week’s devotional, Brother Curtis Henrie invited us to “take a leap of faith” by accepting challenging callings—even if we don’t see how we can fulfill those callings. He said that by doing so, “You [will] feel God’s love more powerfully, experience His power more fully, and have a greater sense of joy.” His invitation reminded me of something else I once heard about faith: “When you walk to the edge of all the light you have and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown, you must believe that one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for you to stand upon or you will be taught to fly.”[10]
Sometimes students come to my office wanting advice on what major they should choose or what career they should pursue. These are important decisions but in my experience, moving forward—even when they can’t see a clear path ahead—is better than waiting for a spotlight to show them where to go. Scott Cooper, a communication graduate, recently told me that when a family friend learned about his major, the friend skeptically asked, “What in the world are you going to do with a communication degree?” Well, Scott wasn’t sure, but he stepped out into the darkness. He took what he learned here and kept building on it. After graduation, he started out at an Idaho Falls based software company and his path has gradually unfolded from there. Sometimes there was solid ground to stand on and sometimes he learned to fly. He never could have predicted that he would end up in his current role as Director of Network Security Business Development for the largest networking company in the world.
Prayer is an essential act of faith when we lack wisdom[11] or vision. “Prayer is the act by which the will of the Father and the will of the child are brought into correspondence with each other. The object of prayer is not to change the will of God,”[12] but to bring our will and understanding in alignment with His. As this happens, we are more likely to see things clearly—and catch glimpses of the way He sees them.
Doctrine and Covenants 136:32 says:
Let him that is ignorant learn wisdom by humbling himself and calling upon the Lord his God, that his eyes may be opened that he may see.[13]
On a hot summer day several years ago while pushing a lawnmower around our yard, I found myself thinking about our cherry tree. Every time I mowed past it, I thought about what a pain it was. When we had first moved into our home, the tree was healthy. We picked and canned cherries and my wife made the best cherry pies I had ever tasted. But every year, the tree became less productive and required more work. One year, a huge branch broke off, leaving the place it broke prone to disease. Another year, worms found their way into the fruit and we had to buy costly insecticides and spray the tree regularly. Then, birds that once hadn’t noticed the tree showed up in scores. They gorged on our tree, leaving little fruit fit for human consumption. So, we purchased an enormous net, which proved to be difficult beyond description to drape over the tree. After all the effort, time, and money we put into the tree, it wasn’t going to produce much fruit that year either possibly due to a late frost. If it hadn’t been for the hope of a mouth-watering cherry pie sometime in the unforeseeable future, I would have gladly chopped the thing down and moved on—no regrets.
I guess I was in a pessimistic frame of mind that day because I also began to think about another thing that was bothering me: home teaching. Our elders quorum was struggling. Although we worked hard to pair home teachers with families they could bless and constantly encouraged our quorum, our numbers were consistently dismal. I knew that the numbers weren’t the important thing, but also that they were an indication of how well we were caring for one another. One of the most frustrating things was the fact that many of the families who, from my perspective needed home teachers most, seemed to purposefully avoid them. In the current day vernacular, it seemed that our home teachers were being ‘ghosted’ and all our efforts were for nothing.
As I mowed, walking around and around my yard, thoughts about the cherry tree and thoughts about home teaching started to merge and became a prayer. “Heavenly Father, is there a point at which I would be justified in cutting down this cherry tree? It costs so much and benefits us so little. And what about those members of our ward who refuse to meet with their home teachers? Home teaching is challenging enough. Month after month, we try to reach out to them and month after month, they shut us out. Isn’t there a point at which we would be justified in giving up on them? Like the cherry tree, I think maybe their time has come.”
I was surprised to have this thought enter my mind: “I’ve never given up on you.”
My reaction was, “Wait, we’re not talking about me here. We’re talking about difficult people and difficult cherry trees. I am just trying to help, and they aren’t cooperating. I am not the cherry tree in this example.”
And the thought came again: “I’ve never given up on you.”
In that moment, I realized my eyes had figuratively been closed and I had run into another much needed telephone-pole-like lesson.
The people I was complaining about were not statistics or obstacles. They were not obnoxious cherry trees that required more effort than they were worth. Our efforts couldn’t possibly match their worth. But I wasn’t seeing them. They were beloved children of God—His work and His glory.[14] I had no idea what their challenges were or why they seemed to be avoiding their home teachers, but God knew. He saw them clearly—not through a glass darkly. They were not really any different from me in His eyes. He saw their divine worth and potential. He knew their hearts and their circumstances. He had not given up on them. And even though I whined in my prayers about cherry trees and priesthood service, He had not given up on me either. I had not seen my neighbors nor myself correctly. I had not been seeing God correctly either. I knew He was my Father and He loved me. What I hadn’t realized was that even though He had rescued and forgiven me again and again, He wasn’t annoyed. His loving hand was ‘stretched out still’ toward me. Even His gentle rebuke, “I have never given up on you,” was a reminder of the depth of His perfect love to which I had my eyes closed. I am grateful for the glimpses God gave me that day in answer to a prayer from my imperfect perspective.
Along with prayer, I believe that temple service is an act of faith that allows us glimpses of what is real. In his book, Refuge and Reality, Elder John H. Groberg recounts that during his time as temple president in Idaho Falls, he would often overhear patrons say, “Well, back to reality,” as they exited the temple. After thinking about it, he began pulling them aside and kindly reminding them:
"Only that which lasts forever is real. That which is done in the temple lasts forever; therefore, the temple is the real world. Most of what we experience ‘out there,’ … lasts for only a short period of time, so it is not the real world. Because you have been in the temple, however, you can take the truths of the real world with you …. As you do, you will see more clearly that which is important and that which is less. This view of things will increase your peace, understanding, and joy.”[15]
The ‘real world’ or eternal perspective we experience in the temple helps us see more clearly and brings us peace, understanding, and joy.
Participants on this week’s devotional discussion board said that their spiritual eyes are opened by prayer, scripture study, quiet pondering, service, trials, gratitude, children, obedience and focusing on the Savior. Shiela Greer said:
When our spiritual eyes are open, we are able to see the tender mercies and miracles of the Lord each day. He is invested in our lives, He is involved in the details. . . . If we look for Him . . . we will find Him in places we didn't realize.
I loved the musical number today, “God Moves in a Mysterious Way.” When we act in faith, we will see more clearly the ‘mysterious way’ God moves in our lives.[16] But like the people in Lehi’s dream—even while holding fast to the iron rod—we will still have to press forward through mists of darkness. The iron rod is not a switch that turns all the lights on. Spiritual vision problems are part of our mortal state. At times, we don’t see the path, we don’t see the obstacles in our way, we don’t see distractions for what they are, we don’t see the tree or its fruit, and we don’t see each other.
That brings me to the third reason I think glimpses are important: seeing each other is vital. In 1996, the year I came to teach at Ricks College, I remember employees talking about Elder Boyd K. Packer’s visit the year before. One thing that I was told he said in a faculty meeting was:
There will be times when reading essays or listening to presentations when you will get a glimpse of who your students really are. When that happens, mentally remove the shoes from off your feet, because you will be standing on holy ground.
One of the great blessings of being here has been catching glimpses of who you really are. In the interpersonal communication class I teach, there is a project in which students share things about themselves that we wouldn’t normally know.
I had never thought that accordion music was particularly spiritual, but when Dane played his accordion, not only was it moving and incredible, but I caught a glimpse of who he really is and I stood on holy ground.
I will never forget when Camilla said, “I am beautiful,” because in that moment, I stood on holy ground.
When Nathan, usually confident and outspoken, got choked up explaining how much he loved and wanted to lift the people from his mission, I stood on holy ground.
When Blake said—and showed us in class every day with his genuine kindness—that he loved being our brother, I stood on holy ground.
I could tell you hundreds of these, but you kind of have to be there to really understand.
The thing is, you are there. Every day, you have opportunities to have meaningful conversations with your roommates or colleagues. Every day you go to class, you have a chance to meet the people you sit by. If you don’t know the name of the person you sit by two or three times a week in biology or psychology or accounting, I guarantee you are missing out on a chance to stand on holy ground. So many of my students have told me they feel isolated, invisible, or unwelcome. In such a great place as BYU-Idaho, no one should feel that way. I invite you to open your eyes and see each other by taking a minute to unplug and talk and listen to one another. Really seeing others and being seen will bless your life.
We have incredible grandchildren. Our grandson, Clark, has Down syndrome. He is smart, loving, patient, tough, and kind. He rocks his extra chromosome! Still, he has some challenges. For example, without glasses, his eyesight isn’t very good. But when Clark looks into my eyes and touches my cheeks with his little fingers, I feel seen and at the same time, I catch a glimpse of heaven. I am so lucky to be Clark’s grandpa.
The fact that Paul couched his remark about seeing through a glass darkly within a powerful sermon about charity[17] makes me think that there is a connection. If we want to develop the pure love of Christ and get a glimpse of what He sees, we might want to start by seeing each other. I recently read a book called Everybody Always by Bob Goff. In it, he says
For a long time, I saw Jesus from a distance and thought we’d met. It still happens to me every time I avoid people God made in His own image just because I don’t understand them. My fear of them leaves me only with glimpses of Jesus. What I’ve come to realize is if I really want to ‘meet Jesus,’ then I have to get a lot closer to the people He created.[18]
As we make our way back home, we may run into a telephone pole or two. But God will give us glimpses of our path if we will trust in Him. I invite you to exercise faith by being obedient to His commandments, by stepping out into the darkness, and by making an effort to truly see each other. As we do so, it’s my testimony that we will stand on holy ground. We will catch glimpses of what God sees. He sees us and He loves us perfectly. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Notes
[1] 1 Corinthians 13:12.
[2] 1 Nephi 8.
[3] Isaiah 5:21.
[4] 2 Nephi 9:28.
[5] See Proverbs 3:5–6.
[6] Neil L. Andersen, “Prophets and Spiritual Mole Crickets,” Ensign, Nov. 1999.
[7] Moses 6:27.
[8] Ether 12:6.
[9] Hebrews 11:1.
[10] Patrick Overton, “Faith,” The Leaning Tree, 1975.
[11] See James 1:5.
[12] “Prayer,” Bible Dictionary.
[13] Doctrine and Covenants 136:32.
[14] Moses 1:39.
[15] John H. Groberg, Refuge and Reality, 2021.
[16] “God Moves in a Mysterious Way,” Hymns, #285.
[17] See 1 Corinthians 13: 1–10, 11,12.
[18] Bob Goff, Everybody Always, 2018.