If there is one thing I know, after a lifetime of learning, we need peace.
If I know two things, then I know how to find peace-or at least "become" so it finds you.
It happened for the believers in Mosiah 18, who sought Alma and secretly listened to his teachings near the waters of Mormon. Listen to the miracle of their lives because they believed and sought peace:
"And it came to pass that [Alma] said unto them: Behold, here are the waters of Mormon . . . and now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another's burdens, that they may be light. . . ."
"[I]f this be the desire of your hearts . . . [do ye know] ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his spirit more abundantly upon you?"
"And now when the people had heard these words, they clapped their hands for joy, and exclaimed: This is the desire of our hearts. . . ."
"[Y]ea, and they were baptized in the waters of Mormon, and were filled with the grace of God. . . ."
"Grace equates to divine means of strength or help, remember."
"And he commanded them that there should be no contention one with another, but that they should look forward with one eye, having one faith and one baptism, having their hearts knit together in unity and in love. . . ."
"And now it came to pass that all this was done in Mormon, . . . in the forest that was near the waters of Mormon; yea, the place of Mormon, the waters of Mormon, the forest of Mormon, how beautiful are they to the eyes of them who there came to the knowledge of their Redeemer; yea, and how blessed are they, for they shall sing to his praise forever" (Mosiah 18:8, 10-11, 16, 21, 30; emphasis added).
It was there they came to know their Savior, Jesus Christ, and where they chose to become one, "their hearts knit together in unity and love," with a deep and abiding willingness to follow His commandments. And for all this, they were so incredibly grateful "they clapped their hands for joy" (Mosiah 18:11; emphasis added).
They found the Savior.
They loved one another.
They were grateful.
These are so incredibly significant in our search for our own waters of Mormon-our quest for God's grace, His peace.
What is a waters of Mormon, you say? How do you find your own? That's what I'd like to share with you today. After half a lifetime of rare but cherished moments in the hills and valleys of our beloved Tetons, I believe I have found some answers.
And guess what: for those of you who are not hikers or bikers or nature lovers, it's not about the summit. It's about believing that God has you. It's having the faith of the prophet Elisha, who, when surrounded by the "many hosts" and chariots of the King of Syria, asked God to show his manservant that God Himself had sent the hosts of heaven and chariots of fire round about to protect them. And Elisha exclaimed, "They that [are] with us are more than they that be with them" (2 Kings 6:16). Tell me in today's world that isn't a visual you want to pack in your back pocket for safe keeping.
How beautiful are they to the eyes of them who there came to the knowledge of their Redeemer. Part of believing that the Lord is aware of you is learning to recognize what I call the "God loves me" moments in life. It's recognizing that God's grace is real! It's noticing that the chariots of fire are actually there beside you, sometimes in the form of butterflies, or a dear friend in the very moment you need one, or even a parking spot at the new Wal-Mart that isn't in the next county.
May I share a few of my own "God loves mes" with you, that you may come to recognize yours? These are from an opportunity I had to climb the Grand Teton several years ago. Some of them are captured here in photos, my favorite way to record my "God loves mes".
I climbed with a team of six women-strong, confident mountain hearts, half of whom we met only days before the climb. Between us, we had five summits of the Grand under our belts. Three of us had none. You can do the math and realize the blessing it was they were willing to take us "Barbie hikers" along. So you will also understand why this first picture might have brought us some measure of comfort.
Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt," by Shakespeare. As we gathered our cumbersome packs and overnight bags at the hotel in Teton Village the night before our climb, we were heartened by this old-timey Shakespearean quote on the wall. It was a "God loves me" moment in pre-climb jitters to stop the fear and uncertainty and be bold.
There is a moment on this trail-after the trailhead, after the switchbacks, after two junctions, after the mouth of Garnet Canyon-there is what I call a "door click," where the commotion of the valley floor, even the quiet whispers of the living things of the mountainside, are left behind, like a door closing on the rustling. This is the moment where I recognize I have entered a different world of rock, ice, granite, and diamond dust ground beneath ancient glaciers. This place has boulders bigger than your house, and the silence and the stillness are bigger still. It is tangible. You can feel it.
The wildflowers in these high mountain meadows, where summer meets spring, are always a "God loves me" gift; they remind me of my mom and that God's hand is in the details. In my experience the higher in altitude we climb, the more brilliant the colors-until they become rocks, of course. High mountain meadows are breathtaking, as you can see here.
Jump with me now up to somewhere around 11-12 thousand feet in the moraine between the Middle Teton and the Grand. Can you see the tiny blue dots mid-center just in front of the rock slide? Like, right next to it? Those are our tents. This shot was taken from far above at the Headwall. It should give you some idea of the immensity of this mountain. I love this reminder of the moraine. It is literally nothing but rocks and snow melt and the occasional skinny hiker. I loved the moraine in twilight, shown here; the peace of it was incredibly profound. It reminded me of D&C 101:16, where it says, "Be still and know that I am God"-one of my absolute favorite scriptures because I recognize that being still and doing nothing are not the same thing, a lesson I learned with absolute certainty in the moraine.
Notice our tents here, at the base of that massive rockslide. I wanted you to see a close-up, to recognize the possible peril that lay on every side of us, though I don't think we recognized it as such, as we were yet safe, protected, watched over at every turn. I never dreamed I would love camping in the rocks like I do. I literally . . . love . . . it. I love the silence. Swimming in it somehow made me feel everything more profoundly. Recognizing God's hand in all of it was beyond humbling.
The minute we had our tents set up, we went in search of water. It wasn't hard to find. We could hear the constant chatter and dance of the stream coming from beneath the glacier nestled under the summit block of the Middle Teton on the other side of the moraine. We hiked over a rocky stretch (it was all rocky); across a massive berm of rocks, the remnant of an ancient glacier; down through a larger version of rubble to the bottom of the glacier itself. I remember clearly holding my hand in that icy stream as I filtered water for our CamelBaks, our Platypus water carriers, our Nalgene water bottles. Though my fingers were numb, that first swallow was incredible and so icy cold it made my teeth hurt-made me feel oh-so-alive! We were drinking water from a glacier! Put that on your bottled spring water advertising campaign.
Because I was so impressed with having met a glacier up close and personal, I have to mention the glacier cracking in the middle of the night. I would tell you, I wasn't sleeping anyway; no one was. Pre-climb jitters had us all agitated and alert, though we were snuggled in our down bags, awaiting our 3 a.m. start time.
I must have been somewhere in la-la land though, for when I heard this immense cracking sound booming across the moraine and bouncing off the rocks and boulders around us, I was instantly wide awake, envisioning the glacier patch below the Middle Teton crashing across the moraine to swallow us whole. I listened for it to roar over the berm of rock that separated us, to sweep us up in a tide of rubble with the tiniest patch of blue nylon tent to show the world what had become of us. It didn't. God loves me.
I hope you are starting to see that "God loves mes" are constant reminders that God's love and His hand are ever present in life, that He is aware of you, that He has you, as He had us on that mountain. And sometimes He sends His grace-that divine means of help or strength that literally saves the day or lifts you from the depths of discouragement or fear. We didn't get eaten by a glacier or a bear. They are also ear-markers to remind us to have joy and be grateful: I got to drink glacial melt from my Nalgene. How cool is that?
Now that you're in the swing of things, let's do a few more to make sure you got this.
We saw a mountain pika with a mouth full of monkey flowers numerous times in the moraine, where there is really nothing but rocks. They are adorable and precious testaments to the tenacity it takes to live in the high country, and we were doing it. See! God loves me!
These pink-bedecked bling toes are testament to taping-and really great boots. No blisters! After 5,000 feet of up, no blisters is definitely a "God loves me."
Not every "God loves me" moment is picture worthy or epic in nature; sometimes they just happen, and you find yourself swimming in the "Isn't this so amazing?" of it. An icy foot soak after a hot day climbing is just such a moment. If you've never tried it, you'll have to take my word for it; your feet will never feel so alive! And it'll save you from blisters every time. This delicious toe soak came after miles of near-constant climbing. It was worth every agonizing second.
That night, before our summit attempt, we relished a carb-loading, energy-packed meal of homemade macaroni and real cheese with sliced fresh tomatoes, both luxuries at nearly 12,000 feet, thanks to the weight-bearing sacrifice of Carrie, one of our team members. We took a moment to sit on a ridge and watch the fading sunlight as it cast the shadows of the Tetons across the valley floor far below us. Isn't it amazing? After the others drifted off to prepare for bed and our 2 a.m. wake-up call, I stayed behind to just drink it in. On every climb and hike I have ever done, there always comes a moment where I recognize this feeling of peace that draws itself around me, and I am always prompted to say, "Dear God, thank you for this moment." This was one of many on this climb.
The supreme silence in the moraine was a "God loves me" that will forever stay with me-a waters of Mormon, if you will. After stepping away from the ridge and gathering my things for the night, I sat outside on a boulder in the dark of night alone for a bit. When you are in the forest, in the trees, if you're me you can hear the whisper of every living thing: trees and brooks and leaves and squirrels and boogiemen and bears and wolves and things that go bump in the night. At altitude in the moraine, there was not even a whisper of wind. The silence was so complete my awareness of the calm brought profound peace to my heart as I recognized how safe I felt in the stillness of this massive rocky cirque. I have never known that kind of quiet; it was my idea of heavenly, though it was full-on black dark. Anxious to just be climbing and getting this thing done, I relished the peace that settled about me in those moments because I took the time to find it.
This is significant, by the way. "God loves mes" don't usually jump up and bite you, though they are everywhere for the discovering. You have to stop and notice them. They work best if you really relish and savor them as well, like sitting on a rock in the middle of a much, much bigger rock and allowing the moon to crawl across the sky and cast its ethereal beams across your heart. There's nothing like it. I realize it feels much safer, much more secure, to be nestled in the tent, in your sleeping bag, in your warm, dry wool socks, tucked in next to your hiking buddies, but . . . the moon can't get at you there.
Sometimes, in my experience, you have to take the advice of the rookie zookeeper in that movie We Bought a Zoo, who, when advising his son about talking to a girl or nursing a sick lion or buying a zoo, said, "Sometimes you just need 10 seconds of insane courage" and the job is done. Sometimes in life, you just have to be bold. Some "God loves mes" are like that. Here's one.
Early on in our second day, on what I considered to be one of the most perilous features on the Owen-Spalding route on the summit block, I waited around a bend in the rock for my turn to rope up. While we shivered in the pre-dawn shadows of the Grand, I heard one of my life's dearest friends call out, "My boot's stuck. No, really, I can't get it out." She was climbing ahead of me, and she was in trouble. If you picture a cabbage head, with the leaves peeling back just so, this rock was like that: a thin leaf of rock peeled away from the mountain herself, and you could either shimmy over the top of it straddle-style, or you could tip-toe on a tiny ledge with your boots and leave the imprints of your fingerprints on the cabbage leaf as you edged your way around it, hence the "belly roll" name. Michelle and I had predetermined we would shimmy. And now her boot was stuck. And it wouldn't come out. This maybe wasn't such a big deal if you looked to the right of her, the summit block rising straight out of sight in a wall of granite and cracks. At least it was solid ground. On the other side of her, however, the mountain fell away to Valhalla and what would become Cascade Canyon 2,000 feet below. Yes, really. This was not good. Even though I knew she was roped in, I could taste the fear for her safety in my throat as she worked to free her boot. Most of us were unable to see her, let alone reach her or be of any help. The "God loves me" in this moment is that after some perilous doing, Michelle did not fall from the belly roll; she was miraculously able to take off her boot, dislodge it, and shimmy to safety. And we all breathed again. Ten seconds of insane courage.
One of the most surprising blessings on this climb came after we had reached the summit and started down-climbing, which is trickier and scarier than going up, believe it or not. When we reached the 110' long rappel down a long, open, exposed chimney, we all stopped to tighten harnesses and regroup before this, the longest and most dangerous of three rappels off the summit block. If you're not familiar with rappelling, it's essentially tying yourself into a rope swing and backing yourself off and away from the side of the mountain into open air with what feels like a piece of dental floss tied to your waist. It's a supreme act of faith in "trust the rope"-and your team.
If you've ever hiked with me, you know I'm a shutterbug and a dawdler. I love the back of the line, where I can just doodle around and take pictures and catch up as I want. Well, that morning in the predawn, I could not find my camera, even though I knew I had packed it with my gear the night before. I even took an extra precious two minutes looking for it while the team waited before we set out. I was supremely disappointed it was missing. I always take pictures, and this was the climb of my life, and I was going to miss it.
Well, in that moment coming down the summit block, as I waited for my friends ahead of me to tie up for the rappel, I found my camera! Right here in my hip pocket, where I always carry it. Where it had to have been bumping and smacking against me all day? But it wasn't? I was able to catch these epic first shots of the day. I can't tell you how delighted I was to have it in my hands. And humbled. I recognized the miracle it was that my focus-and theirs-had been on our team and keeping us safe and focused all the way up this mountain.
It was only now that the Lord figured I had the presence of mind to both down-climb and take these epic pictures of my friends doing the impossible, and stay safe. What I said out loud was a delighted "Hey! God loves me! Look what I found!" In the quiet by myself, as the others tied in, what I said in my heart was, "Wow. You did this. Dear God, thank you for this moment."
At one point, as we approached the Lower Saddle (that slope you can see between the Middle Teton and the Grand from Rexburg), we stopped to put moleskin on a blister on one of our teammates who had new boots (and had obviously not heard of the magic combination of pink toenails and duct tape). We had been in the nearly perpetual cycle of climb, wait, climb since 3 a.m., and the sun now told us we were approaching evening when we noticed the shadows on the eastern side of Table Rock. We'd all seen her from the west multiple times; but this view was fresh and new and spectacular in the lowering sun-definitely a peaceful "God loves me" moment I would long treasure. Again, the stillness of being in the rocks washed over me. Though the long-range views and skies were hazy from multiple western wildfires, the vision of this familiar and beloved mountain awash in evening sun was truly...wow.
Later, after scaling the headwall in the twilight of evening, as we approached our little blue-dot tents in the moraine, I felt I was standing on holy ground in that sea of rocks and stillness. We had done it; we had summited the Grand. And we were safe. And alive. And we had become one in the doing of it. It felt...epic. Sacred. As a team, we were quietly jubilant, reverent. The twilight of the moraine, awash in the alpenglow of a setting sun, was the perfect setting for the way we felt. Waters of Mormon. We had felt the Savior near. We had watched out and cared for one another, experiencing the true love of Christ. And we were oh so grateful.
This is a shot of the moraine and the Jackson Hole valley below in the next-day morning sun. I hated the leaving; it made me feel, if you can imagine, bereft of the mountain. It was there, in that rocky moraine, I felt the Spirit most keenly. In the night with the moon, in the twilight with my climbing team, at the foot of a glacier, and now awash in morning rays of sun, the Spirit of the place never changed with the light, as most places do. I still don't understand why. I just know what I felt there. I didn't want to leave it; I miss it still.
We found ourselves nearing the trailhead, trying not to be too all-knowing in our 40-pound packs, climbing gear, and Mountain Hardwear demeanor when tourists in their flip-flops, with their fancy camera lenses strapped across their chests like medals, packing umbrellas for shade, would stop us and ask, "Are there really bears here?" After being in the high country in the stillness and the silence, after feeling the mountain breathe, after all of it, my brain did not want to engage with the onslaught of humanity. I found myself surprisingly near tears when we caught this last rare shot of Disappointment Peak outlined in a snowfield against the Grand. I thought it a very cool "God loves me" in the final steps of this climb that He would remind me of the humbling blessing of having stood atop both.
Brothers and sisters, the "God loves mes" of our everydays are not always obviously miraculous, but sometimes they are. And sometimes they don't need to be; sometimes just seeing the simplicity of a mountain bluebell along a mountain path is enough. It's in the recognizing God's hand that your own waters of Mormon begins to happen!
The next bit is the secret to all of it, the sacred element that lends itself to God's grace, His divine help and strength, and therefore His peace. You have to be grateful and sometimes clap your hands with joy. You will have noticed by now my habit of uttering "Dear God, thank you for this moment" so often it might be monotonous to hear it again. For me, finding the "waters of Mormon" as described in Mosiah chapter 18 is not a one-time gig-it is a constant desire to feel the Savior near, to feel His love close, a cheerful willingness to share it with others and always to feel grateful.
You may have already noted we had dozens of opportunities for gratitude on this epic, once-in-a-lifetime climb. I can't imagine ever replicating the joy we experienced in the very doing of it. I recognize the rare, miraculous blessing of being a Latter-day Saint believer who has had the opportunity to walk on mountaintops. I testify to you that gratitude for the blessings and the challenges are part of the package in finding your waters of Mormon.
"They clapped their hands for joy, and exclaimed, This is the desire of our hearts" (Mosiah 18:11)
If I had a picture of this sacred moment to share with you, it would be of my tired cheek nestled on sun-warmed granite, eyes closed to the sun. We had summited somewhere around 2 p.m. And now we were nearly down off the summit block. We had one more chimney to rappel. It was full of junk rock, which, after looking at it in our jubilant but exhausted state, made it much, much easier to consider strapping up to that bit of dental floss of a rope and stepping off the edge rather than down-climbing it. As I again waited my turn, I had opportunity to lay my head against a slab of sun-warmed granite, one leg thrown over the edge of the massive boulder we were huddled on, oblivious to the drop below, and close my eyes to the sun. I rested there, listening to the quiet talk of these brave souls, my friends, these women who had become a team in the course of climbing this mountain. I was in awe of them: their courage, their strength, and ability to step up when needed. Their constant encouragement "We got this" had echoed quietly across the mountain all day. We had climbed as one, with dignity and grace, with respect and love for the mountain herself, which had been needful to me. As I rested my cheek on that granite block and felt the warm seep into my soul, I felt a deep and abiding peace settle over me, which I may attribute, at least in part, to exhaustion. But oh! how I love the feel of a sun-warmed rock on my face and in the palm of my hands. In that moment I felt connected to the mountain and the Spirit there in a way I've only heard described clearly once, by Elder Melvin J. Ballard (Crusader for Righteousness; 1966; pp. 138-9).
Away on the Fort Peck Reservation where I was doing missionary work..., I found myself one evening in the dreams of the night in that sacred building, the temple. After a season of prayer and rejoicing I was informed that I should have the privilege of entering into one of those rooms to meet a glorious Personage, and, as I entered the door, I saw, seated on a raised platform, the most glorious Being my eyes have ever beheld or that I ever conceived existed in all the eternal worlds. As I approached to be introduced, he arose and stepped toward me with extended arms, and he smiled as he softly spoke my name. If I shall live to be a million years old, I shall never forget that smile. He took me into his arms and kissed me, pressed me to his bosom, and blessed me, until the marrow of my bones seemed to melt! When he had finished, I fell at his feet, and, as I bathed them with my tears and kisses, I saw the prints of the nails in the feet of the Redeemer of the world. The feeling that I had in the presence of Him who hath all things in His hands, to have His love, His affection, and His blessing was such that if I ever can receive that of which I had but a foretaste, I would give all that I am, all that I ever hope to be to feel what I then felt!
Even in the joy of our success and safety after our climb, our evening meal of a menagerie of trail food from all our packs had been quiet. The salty taste of tuna salad on crackers was mana. As we ate and sat in silence, we could all feel the reverence we shared for this mighty, magnificent mountain who had been so very good to us that day in our 18 hours of climbing. Later that night, as I lay again not sleeping in my down bag, I watched the moon make her way over the nylon of our tent. And I listened to the quiet breathing of my team, these women who had helped me stay safe and warm and present on the mountain-these wonderful, dear, lifelong friends next to me. And I felt more than heard the mountain breathing as well; she felt close. I can only describe the experience as being held in the palm of God's hand as I again felt the quiet and the stillness draw me in. It lasted only moments, but that ethereal quiet will forever walk with me. I know what it is to be still and know that there is a God.
So . . . what is a "waters of Mormon" exactly? How do you find your own?
It's knowing that "God hath not given us the spirit of fear," as he says in 2 Timothy 1:7, "but of power, and of love" (emphasis added).
It is determining that in this world of angst and worry, there is something far more important than fear. For me (and I believe for you) that something is our Savior, Jesus Christ, and His love and peace. Because I learned to recognize His peace in the mountains I know and love, I now find it everywhere.
How Beautiful Upon the Mountains I have felt it
Recently.
Several times.
The Stillness.
Upper mountain meadows
And moraine,
Reaching out
With arms of quiet,
Solitude,
To cradle me in gentle hands
Of Peace.
Supernal Joy.
The Silence profound.
Even the rustle
Of falling leaves,
Critters aflutter,
And boot scuffs on piney trails
Remain in forest eves.
Here,
In this mountain heaven,
Where living things reside
'Neath boulders
And rocky slides,
The Silence runs deep.
Inside.
And even as I tread
---my feet light,
My heart says,
Like Moses,
Turn aside!
That thou may seest
This great sight.[1]
So I move to the light,
And close my eyes.
Cast my arms wide
---today's color is white!
Ethereal,
Spiritual,
Balm.
Photosynthesis!
Being fed,
At heaven's height.
I am want to put off my boots
And kneel in iridescent sands,
For this place
Whereon I stand
Feels like Holy ground.[2]
Yes, standing in His Grace.
I cast my eyes
Round about
At boulders,
Rocks, and sky.
And I feel carried,
Even as on eagles' wing[3]
To summits beyond,
Even I.
"Be still, Little One, and know that I am God.[4]
Fear not, for in me your joy is full;[5]
And they that be with us,
Are more than they that be with them.[6]
I whisper Peace, unto thy soul.
Thine afflictions shall be
But a small moment.[7]
Trust in the Lord
With all thine heart
And lean not
Unto thine own understanding.[8]
As I was with Moses,
So shall I be with thee;
I will not fail thee
Nor forsake thee.[9]
Be strong and of a good courage;
Be not afraid...
For the Lord thy God
Is with thee.[10]
And whoso shall publish peace,
Yea, tidings of great joy,
How beautiful upon the mountains
Shall they be.[11]
Lift up your heart My child; and Be Glad; and look."[12]
And I do.
And I am.
Here,
In the heart of this mountain,
Held,
In His hands.
S.A. Grant
I testify to you that these waters of Mormon don't exist just on mountaintops and passes; they are everywhere among us. Watch for them. Stop and breathe and relish them. Be grateful. And you will know that He is God and He does indeed love you. In a world gone crazy, there is no greater peace than that. I leave you this witness in the name of Jesus Christ-our Savior, our Redeemer, our confidante, our brother, and friend-amen.
Notes
[1] Exodus 3:3
[2] Exodus 3:5
[3] Deuteronomy 32:11
[4] D&C 101:16; Psalms 46:10
[5] D & C 101:36
[6] 2 Kings 6:16
[7] D&C 121:7
[8] Proverbs 3:5
[9] Joshua 1:5
[10] Joshua 1:9
[11] 1 Nephi 13:37
[12] Moses 7:44