Foreword

 Farewell Talk given 18 September 2022

The lord speaks to all of us in different ways, and it’s taken me a while to pick up on it, but I think the medium he occasionally chooses for me is sheer irony. In my early teenage years, I didn’t have a particularly strong conviction in the gospel. It occupied a large portion of my life, but it didn’t hold a lot of personal significance. Then, in the midst of sort of sitting on the sidelines of my religion, I was called to be teachers’ quorum president, and entrusted with priesthood keys. For the first time I felt like I was being held personally accountable to live a more Christlike life. I had to make some changes, and face things I had been neglecting.

I served in that calling to the end, and pressed forward through high school. As I headed into senior year, nervously looking forward to joining a choir class for the very first time, I again received that dreaded call to the bishop’s office. My first thought was “Oh wow, I’m going to be called as first assistant in priests’ quorum.”. So, I sat down across from a member of the bishopric, and he told me “We would like to extend to you the calling of ward chorister”. Now, I have an incredible mother who sings in the Tabernacle Choir, and a talented brother and sister who sang in high school and beyond, but as for me, let’s just say I had a working theory about what exactly time signature is. A few weeks into my calling, I discovered that those little symbols on the music sheets were actually called fermatas, and were not there for decoration.

I remained in that calling for the next 2 years, and though it wasn’t very demanding, it was difficult at times because of my inexperience. But, in those cases where I felt way out of my depth, I would think of another particular calling I was intimidated by, and would tell myself “Calm down, at least you’re not a primary teacher.” I have been a primary teacher for the past 4 months. It’s an opportunity I’m very grateful for.

And finally that brings me to my preparation as a missionary. As I told people I was working on mission papers, the number one question I would get was “If you could choose where to serve, where would it be?” And I had a couple vague ideas, but for the most part, my response was “Wherever the lord needs me.” Eventually that response became “Wherever the lord needs me, except California.” I had a few reasons for saying that, partially in good humor, but every time I did, a particular biblical story came to mind about a man named Jonah and a city called Nineveh. Jonah was a faithful prophet of God, but he had one reservation. “Lord, send me whenever you will, just not Nineveh. Please, anywhere but Nineveh.” And yet, Jonah chapter 1 reads, “Now the word of the Lord came unto Jonah…saying, Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry against it” (1:1-2). God really is the same, yesterday, today, and forever, because word of the Lord came unto Elder Tolman saying, Arise, go to San Diego, California, that great city, and serve the people there.

As I’ve reflected on these experiences, I’ve looked up at God and thought “Hey, that’s 4 out of 4. Every single calling I’ve received has been specifically geared toward addressing a weakness or reservation of mine.” And when I imagine His response, I can’t help but think of a quote from Emperor's New Groove. I envision God looking down on me saying, “I know. It’s called a cruel irony, like my dependance on you.” Which actually brings me to one last irony about my callings, which gets into the core of what I’d like to talk about.

It’s ironic that, of all the times in my life to serve a mission, to have the Lord depend on me, it’s ended up being now, and not 2 years ago. From the ages of 16 to 18, I had a bold, even fiery testimony, and would have readily declared it to the world. I wasn’t without questions and challenges, but I was continually enthusiastic about the gospel. Over the past year, however, I have faced more confusion and conflict than I have ever experienced before. I have spent hours upon hours questioning and worrying about the foundations of my beliefs, and have found myself turned away from God for periods of months. I have been guilty of anger, pride, throwing away knowledge and the spirit, blame, resentment, distrust, unclean thoughts, the list goes on. And all this leading up to putting a name tag on bearing Christ’s name, and setting out to declare a message of hope and light.

It’s led me to ask this question: What do you do when you've been set so far back in your goals, made such a fatal misstep, that trying again feels hopeless? When you find yourself needing divine help, but you are so thoroughly turned away from God that the mere notion of turning back to Him for help feels insufferable?

It’s something I’m sure we’ve all felt before, be it in our relationships, in our performance at school or work, or in our personal lives. Have you ever struggled to build a good habit, or break a bad one, finally made it a week, or a month, or a year, only to see it all come crashing down, and find yourself back at square one? Has it ever felt like you’ve built a relationship with God, then neglected it, or even looked Him in the face and rebelled against Him? How do we bear coming so far, and then failing, but still having high expectations placed upon us?

To begin to answer that, I’d like you all to imagine a young man named Taylor. Taylor grew up in a family that loved road trips. They lived for the hum of the engine, the scenery flashing by the car windows, and the anticipation of their destination. Every year, they would go on a very special one to the countryside. After reaching adulthood, getting a car of his own, and moving away from his family, Taylor resolved for the first time to embark on this road trip on his own. He set out early in the morning, excited as could be, and began the long journey his parents had taken him on so many times before. Memories flashed before him as he drove, and everything was perfect. Right up until about a half hour into his drive, when he double checked his map, bewildered. He had taken an exit too early, and was going the wrong way.

Slightly frustrated, Taylor looked for a chance to turn around, missed 2 opportunities, and finally made a wild U turn at an intersection, for which a nearby car honked at him. Tense and irritated, he finally made it back toward the freeway. As he approached the on-ramp, he pondered. His enjoyment of the trip had completely evaporated in the last several minutes. This wasn’t the sort of mistake his parents made when they took him on the trip, and he was disappointed that after so much anticipation and planning for this nostalgic experience, he’d made several frustrating mistakes.

“No,” Taylor told himself, “I don’t want this mess up tarnishing the whole trip.” So he made a left turn, and headed up the freeway, back the way he came. Half an hour later, he made it home, where he turned his car around, and started his trip over again, looking forward to a smoother run of it. This time, he made it past where his earlier mistake had been, and about an hour into his trip was really starting to enjoy himself again. 10 minutes later, he missed a turn. The trip was ruined. Pounding his steering wheel, he turned around, drove the hour back home, and began again. And this he did every time he made a mistake, no matter how far he got, all the way into the late night, when, utterly exhausted, he parked at his destination.

This story is a little bit ridiculous, but I hope it can put our individual journeys into perspective. I hope it can demonstrate to you that our mistakes do not set us back at square one. It’s easy to view our relationship with God as a house of cards, that completely collapses when we mess up badly enough. We take the sacrament each week to renew our covenants, but if we sin, those covenants are broken, and we’ll just have to try again after sacrament meeting next Sunday. I’d like to suggest that our failures, big and small, are a part of our journey of repentance, they don’t restart it.

Before I go any further, I’ll clarify that the consequences of mistakes and sin are real. They affect ourselves, everyone around us, and God. There’s no doubt about that. But we are here to learn and progress, and that is far too important to let guilt, and hardship, and even other people’s anger stop us from striving to be better. If any of those things thwart your coming unto Christ, then they are not of God. Sometimes God is disappointed, even angry with us. But in Isaiah, chapter 9, we read about nations of disobedient people, and listen to what it says about the Lord, “for every one is a hypocrite and an evildoer, and every mouth speaketh folly. For all this his anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still” (9:17). That last phrase is repeated three different times in that chapter (12,17,21). No matter how cut off from Him you may feel, no matter how bad your standing before Him may be, He will always accept your efforts to return to him, whether it be your hundredth or your thousandth time in your journey. Mosiah 26:30 reads “Yea, and as often as my people repent I will forgive them…” 

It’s my hope that we never find ourselves willfully sinning against God, but if we do, when we take the wrong exit on the highway from that story, there is no better option than getting back on it as quickly as possible. To the question, “When should I repent and try to set things right?” The answer is always “now”. There is no better time. This extends even as far as kneeling down and speaking with God after the very act of betraying his trust. You may feel ingenuine. You may feel like a hypocrite. But imagine the faith that God sees when you, knowing you are inadequate, choose to bow your head before Him anyway, because it is the best thing you can do in the moment. In the words of a favorite author of mine, “Sometimes a hypocrite is nothing more than a man in the process of changing.” (Oathbringer ch. 103, Sanderson)

But even despite all of this, when we are in the midst of doubt or shame, we might still wonder, how can any of this be? How can God be angry with me, but still want to listen to me? How can I find hope or love when I know I haven’t put enough work in? How can I expect mercy when I know I don’t deserve it?

About 2000 years ago, there lived a woman who we don’t know very much about. But, whatever the events were in her life that led her to it, we know one day, she was caught in the act of adultery, a sin placed right alongside murder in the Law of Moses. She was taken before the Pharisees, who proclaimed that she was to be stoned for her actions, and then she was brought to Jesus to be judged by Him. When I think back on this story, I try to consider what her perspective must have been like. Being paraded through the streets before a crowd of people, her transgression made known to everyone. Being cast before a man, who many claimed to be the Messiah. Who, so she heard, had performed miracles. Who, if this was true, was the original author of the law given to Moses. And He was to be her judge. I imagine her feelings. Fear and shame. Perhaps anger, and a sense of betrayal and injustice, as no one stopped to ask what her side of the story was. And yet, as she stood before Jesus, there loomed the undeniable, unrelenting fact that whatever her reasons were, a law had been set forth, and she had broken it. And the stones that would soon reign down upon her were nothing compared to the condemnation of her God.

“Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act.” Said one of the Pharisees. “Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?”

She waited for his response along with the rest of them, but He did nothing more than stoop down and write in the gravel with His finger, ignoring them completely.

“What sayest thou?” They pressed him, until He stood up only to say, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” And then returned His attention to the ground.

And just like that the Pharisees and spectors exchanged looks, and one by one, left the scene, until there remained only the woman, standing across from the Messiah, the only man who could truly accuse her. She waited, reliving all that she had done. Every reason He had to condemn her. For a time, it seemed He couldn’t even bear to look at her, as He kept his attention on the ground. Then He stood, and met Her eyes.

“Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee?” He asked.

“No man, Lord.” She replied, knowing it was the justice of God that was upon her, not of man. She had failed, and every good thing she had ever done seemed insignificant beside that fact. There was no way forward. She held His gaze, and in His eyes she saw something she did not expect. Her own pain reflected back at her. A deep understanding of all that tormented her, but in spite of it all, warmth. His response came with a smile.

“Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.” (John 8:1-11)

We are able to move forward despite our past failings because we have an advocate in heaven. Because Jesus Christ, our elder brother, is so loving, so determined, and so good, that he stands between us and the verdicts of justice. He continually says to Heavenly Father, “I know your children have been disobedient, but I have paid the price for them. Give them as many second chances as it takes for them to learn, even though they’ll be imperfect all throughout.” Christ’s atonement bridges the gap between justice and mercy, anger and love, imperfection and perfection. We are able to pray to our Father in Heaven, no matter the circumstance, because we do so in Christ’s name. This is His gift to us, and all that He asks in return is that we strive to be as He is, and that every time we take a wrong exit on our freeway of mortality, we admit it, and then get back on as fast as possible. It’s the getting back on that he cares about the most, because that’s what He sacrificed His life to allow us to do.

With this new calling I have, if I can show someone, anyone, that they can move past their shortcomings not because of luck or willpower, but because they have a savior who has fought and is fighting every moment of every day for their right to keep pressing forward, then I consider that a worthy cause. I’m grateful to teach in Christ’s name.

Behold, I am a disciple of Jesus Christ, the son of God. I have been called of Him to declare His word among His people that they might have everlasting life. (3 Ne 5:13)

In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

After a week of Home MTC, it was time to go to the Provo Missionary Training Center on 28 September 2022. But first, obligatory pictures at the Provo Temple!