My Fathers

I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to express how grateful I am for the fathers in my life. I hope you will indulge me, as I introduce my topic today by telling you about my fathers. Many of you know my grandfather, and I hope those of you that do can recognize the spiritual giant that he is. For the past 3 years, I have lived with him and my grandmother, and that opportunity has been one of the greatest of my life. During this time he has been my father away from home. He is one of the kindest, most generous, and most loving people I have ever known, and a patriarch in every sense of the word. I hope some day that I might be able to say that I lived a life as good as his. [I have a picture of he and my grandmother next to my bed, they’re on a cruise in Alaska, and he is comforting her from the cold… that picture is a goal for me in life, I want to emulate my grandpa in my life.]

Then there’s my stepfather, Scott. A drinking, smoking, foul-mouthed catholic [and former pig farmer and long-haul truck driver from outside of Chicago] who met a single LDS mother of 5 and changed his life. He came into my mother’s life when she was truly struggling, and was willing to help her raise 5 children between the ages of 8 and 15. At the same time he gave up smoking and drinking and began to attend church with us despite the differences in our beliefs. With time, he took the discussions, joined the church, and was sealed to my mother. I can only hope he knows how much I love him, I don’t know where me and my siblings would be without him. And for being a support to my mother during one of the most difficult times of her life, I will be eternally grateful to him.

Which brings me to my father… those of you who have heard me talk of my dad have probably heard me say that he is my ultimate example, of both how and how not to live. I love my dad more than words can fully convey. And I will use his story, and mine, as a narrative of a much larger and more important topic today. When I was 10 years old, I thought my parents had the perfect marriage, I thought my dad (who served as our ward’s Elder’s quorum president) would be our next bishop, my dad was my hero. Suffice it to say, on my tenth birthday I was not prepared for the year that would come. Over the following year my parents would separate and then divorce, and my dad would be excommunicated from the church. My father, my hero, had fallen.

Brothers and sisters, although my fathers have always been there for me I am aware that not all are so lucky. [Unfortunately, because of circumstance, many have lost their fathers prematurely, and even more unfortunately, some fathers neglect their duty towards their children. Although that has never been the case for me, I have known what it is like to be in the only worthy priesthood holder in my home, as a deacon. I remember on more than one occasion getting myself up and walking to church when nobody else would. I remember finding for the first time in my life just how important it is that I not only had fathers here on earth, but that I had a heavenly father.]

It is the first article of our faith that “we believe in God, the eternal Father,” OUR eternal Father. And the best-known hymn in the church expresses that same, simple truth that far too often goes under-appreciated. “I am a child of God, and he has sent me here.” [As we have recently celebrated our mothers, and as today we celebrate our fathers, I urge you to remember the truth taught in that hymn, that he has given us our earthly home, and our beloved parents.] Despite all the emphasis given to this most important of doctrines, I am saddened along with Elder Holland who noted in 2003 that “some in the contemporary world suffer from a distressing misconception of (God)… there is a tendency to feel distant from the Father, even estranged from Him, if they believe in Him at all. And if they do believe, many moderns say they might feel comfortable in the arms of Jesus, but they are uneasy contemplating the stern encounter of God.” Jeffrey R. Holland – the Grandeur of God, October 2003

Joseph Smith taught that "it is the first principle of the gospel to know for a certainty the character of God.” He said “I want you all to know Him and to be familiar with Him.” History of the Church 6:305 and he admonished us to have "a correct idea of his . . . perfections, and attributes…the excellency of [His] character." Lectures on Faith (38, 42)

Brothers and sisters, the primary character of God is that of a Father. Of all the titles given to God, the supreme Governor of the universe, perhaps Abba (Daddy) is the most appropriate. When we address one another as Brother or Sister, we are expressing a most profound truth. We are all, in a very real sense, children of the same loving father.

[My dad grew up on a dairy farm in Lindon. He was one of ten children. He gained the ability to work hard and a lot of toughness. He was a successful high school basketball and football player. In spite of his size he made all-state on the offensive line for Pleasant Grove High School. Since he was young, he would get up early to go fishing by himself, and every year he eagerly awaits hunting season. If there is such a thing as a cowboy, my dad fits the description – when he talks about his mission he often says that one day he was out birthing calves in a field and the next he was in a suit and tie, and trying to understand the accents of the Irish people he had been told spoke English. There is no place where my dad is more comfortable than up in the mountains. ]

[For as long as I can remember my dad has worked as either a maintenance man or a janitor, taking on as many side jobs as he can to pay the bills. He has cleaned pools, dug trenches, milked cows, coached basketball and fixed just about anything on the side just to keep his head above water. He works almost 80 hrs/week, despite health problems and despite the fact that both his knees have lost their cartilage and need to be replaced. Life is not easy for him. And] on more than one occasion, while looking in my eyes he has said to me – “I may not have a lot in this life, but I have 6 wonderful children who have grown to be amazing people, despite their father. If it weren’t for you kids, I think I might just go up in the mountains and live.” Please believe me when I say that if anybody could and would do it, it’s my dad. If I’m sure of anything in this life I am sure that my dad loves me more than I can understand – I know that the love of a father towards his children is truly great.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believeth in him, should not perish but have everlasting life.” John 3:16 One of the best known scriptures in Christendom again conveys the same simple message I hope to convey to you today. God is the Father of our spirits and he loves us more than we can understand. He sent his only begotten son, our elder brother to this earth because he loves us, because he is our father.


When Enoch spoke to God and saw him cry, he asked, "How is it that thou canst weep? . . . Thou art just [and] merciful and kind forever; . . . Peace . . . is the habitation of thy throne; and mercy shall go before thy face and have no end; how is it thou canst weep?" And Our Father responded:
"Behold these thy brethren; they are the workmanship of mine own hands. . . . I gave unto them . . . [a] commandment, that they should love one another, and that they should choose me, their Father; but behold, they are without affection, and they hate their own blood. . . . Wherefore should not the heavens weep, seeing these shall suffer?" Moses 7:29–33, 37.

I don’t know if there is a greater example of God’s nature as our father than that found in Moses 7. He who is above all things weeps over us, because he so loves us. He is our Father.

When I was nine I went to my parents bedroom and asked them, “what if the church isn’t true? what if Joseph Smith just made it up?” My dad looked at me and rather than correct my doubt or panic about my question just asked, “What if he did just make it up, Isaac? What then?” I believe that moment was when I first started gaining a testimony of this work for myself. I stopped an thought, and I began to recognize that I didn’t understand a world where the gospel wasn’t true. That day I started on the path toward conversion. In the ensuing years, despite all that has happened my dad has been a great influence on my testimony. This excommunicated member, who has been the victim of vicious rumors, and who has lost most of the friends that he had in the church has never denied his testimony. Because of my father here on earth I have come to know my Eternal Father. And because of my Eternal Father I know the truth of this gospel. Bear Testimony.

A Weekend of Independence

I had an eventful 4th of July weekend. I had the day off work on Friday and Stephanie didn't have any appointments so we got up bright and early and drove up to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. I'll have to get some of the pictures she took while we were there but it was an amazing day. We went through the National Soldiers' Cemetery where Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address, dedicating the cemetery to those who fought at the Battle of Gettysburg. It was a pretty amazing place to be. Afterwards we walked along Cemetery Ridge, where Pickett's Charge occurred. And, without having planned so, we were there on the afternoon of July 3rd, the same date and time when the charge occurred.
Gettysburg is a beautiful little town, filled with rolling hills, trees, and wildflowers, if it weren't for the numerous monuments and plaques placed in memory of the events that took place, it might be hard to believe that such a bloody battle occurred there over 3 days in July of 1863.
As we drove home to Richmond, we decided to cut west and go the long, scenic way around so that we could avoid Washington, D.C. traffic. Interstate 81 is a beautiful peace of highway that cuts right through the Shenandoah Valley and it was really nice to drive down it and past the Blue Ridge Mountains. Made me miss the mountains back home. On the way back we decided to stop and get some dinner and ended up in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. While we didn't visit any of the historical parts there, we did have a nice dinner and get to see this peaceful little town that was once the site of Brown's Raid. It was also interesting to learn that Lewis and Clark went to Harpers Ferry to get their weapons before beginning their westward trek.
Now, for the sad part of my Friday. After having driven more than 500 miles I dropped Stephanie off at her house and headed home. I was ready for bed and not even paying attention anymore, I guess, because apparently I coasted downhill on a road in a 35 mph zone and let my car get going a little too fast. A police officer pulled me over and wrote me a ticket. So, now I get to go to traffic court in late August. Fun. Luckily I haven't had any speeding tickets before this so I should be able to get traffic school and not have it count against me. At least, I'm told the Chesterfield County judge is a big fan of traffic school.
Saturday morning I woke up early to go to our ward's pancake breakfast and enjoyed a good meal. Before we all ate, Susie Levin, the bishop's wife, gave a short program talking about the importance of the holiday we were celebrating and the faith of the founding fathers of our nation. It was really quite good. Then, after breakfast a few crazy people (we ended up being a group of 17, I think) decided to drive up to the Metro station just south of Washington, D.C. and ride into the city to watch fireworks and do some tourism beforehand. I've been in Richmond, only a couple of hours from our nation's capitol, for nearly a year now and this was the first time I really went into the city. Crazy. I loved it!
We walked around and saw the White House, got some lunch, went through the American History Museum, then took a hike over to the Jefferson Memorial where we set up place to watch the fireworks. While we waited for the show to start, some of us went and spent some time looking at the Jefferson Memorial and walking over to the FDR Memorial, which is awesome! It was a lot of fun, and the fireflies were out too, so it made it really neat. Finally, it was time for the fireworks to begin. Coming from a small town, I'm not used to big fireworks displays and I should say that D.C. has a pretty impressive show, especially from our viewpoint across the reflecting pool and seeing the Washington Monument. It was amazing.
After all that we had to leave the city. Trying to get 17 of us to stick together as we walked over to the metro station and then all getting on the same train was insane. And the ride back to the Springfield station where we had parked was very crowded, we got to be very comfortable in one another's close proximity. But it was lots of fun and totally worth it.
Watching the grand finale of the firework display, I paused to think of the significance of our celebrating our independence with such an array. They let off so many fireworks, so quickly, that much of the display is muted by the noise and the smoke, and you can see clearly how the fireworks represent the artillery and violent explosions of the war that was fought for our independence. Touring the battlefields and seeing the cannons and positions of the Civil War and reading Lincoln's short dedication to the soldiers
who fought to maintain our nation's unity, caused me to pause and think of how great the sacrifice has been to get us where we're at. I think I've always appreciated the blessings of living here, but I don't know that I've always properly understood the sacrifice that has gone into providing them. One of my favorite books is All Quiet on the Western front by Erich Maria Remarque, which tells the tale of soldiers on the German side of the First World War and their realization of the loss on both sides of that war. Standing in Gettysburg and then driving back to Richmond, capitol of the Confederacy, caused me to pause and to think about the sacrifice of war on both sides of conflict. How fortunate we are for those whose lives have been lost. May we always remember the cost of war.