At the end of King Benjamin's address, he does very few speakers today do--he finds out if they get it.
They got it.
"They all cried with one voice saying: Yea, we believe all the words which thou hast spoken unto us; and also, we know of their surety and truth, because of the Spirit of the Lord Omnipotent, which as wrought a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually." (v. 2)
This verse has alternately inspired, tormented, and puzzled me.
How can I get to that same point, a point where I will have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually?
In dark times, I have used that phrase as a mantra, repeating these words under my breath to fight off temptation and remember the joy the comes from living the right way.
In darker times, when I have sinned or hurt another, the phrase is a bitter reminder that my disposition is still, sometimes, to do evil. A reminder that I still don't quite grasp the possibilities of the Atonement.
In neutral and good times, I am in awe of the prospect of a disposition that seeks to do good continually. I've met several people like this in my life. They usually are no more that acquaintances (or old friends who have since become acquaintances), since the evil part of my disposition precludes the friendly intimacy that results from doing good in the world together.
Instead, I watch them from afar, basking in their goodness, sometimes yearning to be like them, other times finding their rigid goodness overbearing or pompous. I am not equating rigid goodness with dogmatism, conservatism, or unthinking zealotry. Rather, rigid goodness is a thoughtful and compassionate obedience to all commandments, but especially to those that teach us to love and serve all around us.
That rigidity of purpose and standard is galling to the world in general, but refreshing to its inhabitants. "Therefore, I would that ye should be steadfast and immovable, always abounding in good works..." (v. 15).
In the clinical world, a clinical disposition is what a medical provider determines to be your next steps. For example, if you go to the emergency room, you hope that (after 5 hours of tests) the doctor assigns you a disposition of "discharge" so you can go home rather "admission" or "transfer to psych". It has a sense of inevitability to it.
I want to inevitably be a good servant of the Lord. But I've got a few more tests before the Great Healer assigns my spiritual disposition.
They got it.
"They all cried with one voice saying: Yea, we believe all the words which thou hast spoken unto us; and also, we know of their surety and truth, because of the Spirit of the Lord Omnipotent, which as wrought a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually." (v. 2)
This verse has alternately inspired, tormented, and puzzled me.
How can I get to that same point, a point where I will have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually?
In dark times, I have used that phrase as a mantra, repeating these words under my breath to fight off temptation and remember the joy the comes from living the right way.
In darker times, when I have sinned or hurt another, the phrase is a bitter reminder that my disposition is still, sometimes, to do evil. A reminder that I still don't quite grasp the possibilities of the Atonement.
In neutral and good times, I am in awe of the prospect of a disposition that seeks to do good continually. I've met several people like this in my life. They usually are no more that acquaintances (or old friends who have since become acquaintances), since the evil part of my disposition precludes the friendly intimacy that results from doing good in the world together.
Instead, I watch them from afar, basking in their goodness, sometimes yearning to be like them, other times finding their rigid goodness overbearing or pompous. I am not equating rigid goodness with dogmatism, conservatism, or unthinking zealotry. Rather, rigid goodness is a thoughtful and compassionate obedience to all commandments, but especially to those that teach us to love and serve all around us.
That rigidity of purpose and standard is galling to the world in general, but refreshing to its inhabitants. "Therefore, I would that ye should be steadfast and immovable, always abounding in good works..." (v. 15).
In the clinical world, a clinical disposition is what a medical provider determines to be your next steps. For example, if you go to the emergency room, you hope that (after 5 hours of tests) the doctor assigns you a disposition of "discharge" so you can go home rather "admission" or "transfer to psych". It has a sense of inevitability to it.
I want to inevitably be a good servant of the Lord. But I've got a few more tests before the Great Healer assigns my spiritual disposition.
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