Come, Let Us Anew

I have a tendency to misread things pretty astoundingly. Such as this. Another example is in the hymn "The Spirit of God". I always heard the line "the knowledge and power of God is expanding" to mean God is gaining new knowledge and power. I'm guessing that the standard way of reading that one is that people's knowledge of God and his power on the earth, thanks to righteous restorationists, is increasing.

But I like my reading. I like it because it points to this awesome idea in Mormon theology, that God might not have all the answers. That he might still be learning. That there really might not ever be any end to truth. This idea is one of the gladdest tidings from Cumorah imaginable.

I forget that there's glad tidings at all a lot of the time. I get mired down in this and that frustration, these and those irritations, reminders of how I don't fit in and, in the words of another hymn, "many a conflict, many a doubt, fightings and fears within, without". But, there's so much that's good and beautiful and true in the gospel. So much.

These musings were sparked, in part, because today is Mormon New Year. 181 years ago, a little group of people got together with only hazy notions of Mormon ideas, mostly centered around a book that this dude claim he translated and a desire for a total restoration of Christianity. They officially formed a church, re-baptized people and started down a path that would lead, very directly, to today. To me here. Not that I'm a culmination of anything, but still.

I have my ways I mark Mormon New Year. You have cupcakes for Jesus. I wear a t-shirt proclaiming some sort of positive Mormon message. I spread the news of the holiday in general. You greet others with "Art thou a brother or a sister?". But this year, I'm going to do something a little bit different. I'm going to make some new years resolutions.

In a way, this is like another tradition my family has, the Jesus stocking. Every Christmas Eve, my family gathers to read the Luke 2 account and then write down, secretly on 3x5 cards, the gift we're going to give to Jesus that year. These cards get put into a tiny, soft white stocking that is hung alongside all the other ones. I typically don't remember what I write down and am always sorta surprised the next year when I see what I had promised (because, purpose is but slave to memory). Not that surprised, though, since my card has said roughly the same thing since I was about 13.

I'm not really sure I'll remember much better the resolutions I make in April than the ones on December 24th or early January. But, I think it's a good idea. And one that will help me live up to the hope I have to someday be the person whose knowledge and power are expanding. Maybe it'll happen. Maybe.