Dreams and Visions

It was my turn to give the lesson in High Priest Group today; lesson 11, The Life of Christ. It’s a subject I feel very inadequate to teach about. Don’t misunderstand. I know the atonement is real; I can’t deny it or the existence of Christ and the reality of His sacrifice. I just feel that my comprehension of the depth and effect of the atonement aren’t very good, so I sometimes - no often - no usually have difficulty seeing how it applies to me, even though I can clearly see it working in the lives of so many others.

Anyway, I digress. As I was studying the lesson it briefly mentioned how Elder Orson F. Whitney had seen the Savior’s struggle in the Garden of Gethsemane in a dream. I vaguely remembered having heard about this before so I looked it up. The references are: “The Divinity of Jesus Christ,” Liahona, Dec 2003, 12, Published in Improvement Era, Jan. 1926, 219–27. I copied a portion of the talk he gave, but only the part that meets my needs:

“Orson F. Whitney was born on 1 July 1855 in Salt Lake City, Utah. He was ordained to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles on 9 April 1906 by President Joseph F. Smith. Elder Whitney died on 16 May 1931 in Salt Lake City at age 75. This is an excerpt from an address delivered at the Sunday evening session of the MIA Jubilee Conference held on 7 June 1925.”

“Fifty years ago, or something less, I was a young missionary in the state of Pennsylvania. I had been praying for a testimony of the truth but beyond that had not displayed much zeal in missionary labor. My companion, a veteran in the cause, chided me for my lack of diligence in this direction. “You ought to be studying the books of the Church,” said he; “you were sent out to preach the gospel, not to write for the newspapers”—for that was what I was doing at the time.

“I knew he was right, but I still kept on, fascinated by the discovery that I could wield a pen and preferring that to any other occupation except the [theater], my early ambition, which I had laid upon the altar when, as a youth of 21, I accepted a call to the mission field.

“One night I dreamed—if dream it may be called—that I was in the Garden of Gethsemane, a witness of the Savior’s agony. I saw Him as plainly as I see this congregation. I stood behind a tree in the foreground, where I could see without being seen. Jesus, with Peter, James, and John, came through a little wicket gate at my right. Leaving the three Apostles there, after telling them to kneel and pray, He passed over to the other side, where He also knelt and prayed. It was the same prayer with which we are all familiar: “O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt”.

“As He prayed, the tears streamed down His face, which was toward me. I was so moved at the sight that I wept also, out of pure sympathy with His great sorrow. My whole heart went out to Him. I loved Him with all my soul and longed to be with Him as I longed for nothing else.

“Presently He arose and walked to where the Apostles were kneeling—fast asleep! He shook them gently, awoke them, and in a tone of tender reproach, untinctured by the least suggestion of anger or scolding, asked them if they could not watch with Him one hour. There He was, with the weight of the world’s sin upon His shoulders, with the pangs of every man, woman, and child shooting through His sensitive soul—and they could not watch with Him one poor hour!

“Returning to His place, He prayed again and then went back and found them again sleeping. Again He awoke them, admonished them, and returned and prayed as before. Three times this happened, until I was perfectly familiar with His appearance—face, form, and movements. He was of noble stature and of majestic mien—not at all the weak, effeminate being that some painters have portrayed—a very God among men, yet as meek and lowly as a little child.

“All at once the circumstance seemed to change, the scene remaining just the same. Instead of before, it was after the Crucifixion, and the Savior, with those three Apostles, now stood together in a group at my left. They were about to depart and ascend into heaven. I could endure it no longer. I ran out from behind the tree, fell at His feet, clasped Him around the knees, and begged Him to take me with Him.
I shall never forget the kind and gentle manner in which He stooped and raised me up and embraced me. It was so vivid, so real, that I felt the very warmth of His bosom against which I rested. Then He said: “No, my son; these have finished their work, and they may go with me, but you must stay and finish yours.” Still I clung to Him. Gazing up into His face—for He was taller than I—I besought Him most earnestly: “Well, promise me that I will come to You at the last.” He smiled sweetly and tenderly and replied: “That will depend entirely upon yourself.” I awoke with a sob in my throat, and it was morning.

“That’s from God,” said my companion (Elder A. M. Musser), when I had related it to him. “I don’t need to be told that,” was my reply. I saw the moral clearly. I had never thought that I would be an Apostle or hold any other office in the Church; and it did not occur to me even then. Yet I knew that those sleeping Apostles meant me. I was asleep at my post—as any man is, or any woman, who, having been divinely appointed to do one thing, does another.”

His experience made a profound impression on him and he began to make character-changing decisions about his behavior that eventually molded him into the man he became. As I read his account I felt a powerful witness that this was a real vision. That he had actually seen the event as it occurred and several strong impressions came to me.

First, I felt some part of the emotion Elder Whitney must have felt. As much as I could at least from simply reading the story and not seeing it. I felt the Spirit strongly let me know that Elder Whitney saw it as it happened. I felt transported into his place and saw it happen in my mind’s eye as he described it, and I felt my own emotions swell and tears start to come to my eyes. I knew it was true. I know it’s true.

Second, it reaffirmed that we all have very specific missions to fulfill while on the earth, but agency means we are not compelled to carry them out. There is no predestination, no concrete destiny. We are gently led to them as we strive to hear and obey the promptings of the Spirit and do what’s right. Only then can we make our calling and election sure.

Third, although I have never been taught such, I have for much of my life, at least subconsciously, suffered from the western protestant, Old Testament image of God; an angry old man glaring down at us from the heavens waiting for us to mess up, after which He would slap us upside the head and berate us for being so stupid. No matter how hard I try, because I am weak I must always be under condemnation. How can he be patient or forgiving with me when I know so much better than to do some of the things I do or have done. I know He forgives others. He even forgives horrendous sins such as with Alma, and even as serious as murder as with the Ammonites. But somehow, for some reason I don’t seem to qualify for the same kind of remission.

Now this flies in the face of reason and everything I’ve been taught. Logically I know better than this. Alma and the Sons of Mosiah were first-class sinners. Alma himself says that they “were the vilest of sinners”. And it’s not as though Alma was sinning in ignorance. He had been taught from the beginning by his father – a prophet of God, all he needed to know for salvation. He was sinning against the light.

I used to think that when the converted Lamanites, later called Ammonites buried their weapons of war as a testimony that they had repented of their murders, and that they would never again shed blood that they were speaking metaphorically. I couldn’t believe murder could be forgiven in the classical sense. But I have since changed my mind. The Ammonite King said in Alma 27: 6-8; “But the king said unto them: Behold, the Nephites will destroy us, because of the many murders and sins we have committed against them. And Ammon said: I will go and inquire of the Lord, and if he say unto us, go down unto our brethren, will ye go? And the king said unto him: Yea, if the Lord saith unto us go, we will go down unto our brethren, and we will be their slaves until we repair unto them the many murders and sins which we have committed against them.” (My italics) I believe he meant exactly what he said, that this was a real vow about a real condition.

Anyway, this is the long way around to the point I am trying to make; I knew – know – logically that with true repentance in one way or another, in one time frame or another the atonement can apply to everyone except the Sons of Perdition, but somehow I still don’t feel fully qualify for His complete love. I just don’t quite measure up somehow.

But as I read Elder Whitney’s conversation with the Lord, and His reaction to Elder Whitney, these phrases jumped out at me; “I shall never forget the kind and gentle manner in which He stooped and raised me up and embraced me. It was so vivid, so real, that I felt the very warmth of His bosom against which I rested. Then He said: “No, my son; these have finished their work, and they may go with me, but you must stay and finish yours.” Still I clung to Him. Gazing up into His face—for He was taller than I—I besought Him most earnestly: “Well, promise me that I will come to You at the last.” He smiled sweetly and tenderly and replied: “That will depend entirely upon yourself.”

Elder Whitney, by his own words was not measuring up to his potential - asleep at his post he says. Yet observe the Savior’s behavior towards him. There is a profound love, patience and compassion. This is no cranky, angry old man. And look at how Christ reacts to the apostles falling asleep. He is under incredible stress and pain, worse than anything we can imagine. If there could be any justification for righteous anger, or even just righteous irritation He would have it. But it says “a tone of tender reproach, untinctured by the least suggestion of anger or scolding.”

This is a loving, gentle and benevolent being, and he’s real. He’s really very much concerned about our well-being. He will not remove the trials because that’s how we grow and become what He has in mind for us. But He will lovingly support and sustain us as we serve him, and reward us beyond our greatest imagination if we endure well.

Elder Whitney’s experience isn’t limited to just Apostles. My own mother had similar dreams and spiritual experiences. I spoke with her about one in particular today to get the story right, and to make sure she didn’t mind my sharing it with those I felt would respect it for what it is.

Mom said that at various times while she was in the temple that she would ponder the crucifixion. The prophet Joseph teaches us that the soldiers who nailed Christ to the cross were afraid that the weight of His body would cause the nails in His hands to tear through the flesh, so they also drove nails through His wrists. Mom was contemplating the incredible pain and agony of having nails driven through the carpel tunnel nerves, and the arms being fixed at two points with no possible movement, and she asked in a silent prayer if we had been witnesses to the crucifixion.

She did not expect the answer she received. She was only looking for a confirmation, a yes or no answer. But after a period of time she had a dream, and her answer. She said that she saw the event not as if she were actually present, but rather as though she was seeing a vision of the event, much like we would see something on television.

She saw a great multitude of men, assembled in a great circle, like a stadium, only limitless in size, but affording each person a clear view of what was happening in the center. She said all the men were dressed as if for battle, but she didn’t elaborate on their style of dress. She asked, “Where are the women? She was told that they were somewhere else. She understood that no one was compelled to watch and that there were some who just couldn’t’ bear to watch, it was so painful to the soul, but that those women who wish to were also witnesses.

She said they were all watching intently in a profound, overwhelmingly solemn silence, yet she and they could hear the cries of the rabble as she called it, crying for Christ’s blood. She didn’t see them nail the Lord to the cross herself, she seemed to be looking away at that point, but she saw the soldiers raise the Lord up on the cross and drop it into the hole that had been dug to hold it, and felt a personal pain of sympathy as it hit the bottom with a jolt.

Then, just as Elder Whitney described, all at once the circumstance changed and a great shout went up. A shout that was as profound as the silence had been. Not a raucous, vulgar shout like a sporting event, but a shout of tremendous, overwhelming joy felt to the very core of the soul. The Lord had risen from the dead, the Atonement was complete, the door to salvation and redemption was open and physical and spiritual deaths were defeated.

I often think about the suffering in Gethsemane and on the cross. Alma and Isaiah both tell us that Christ not only felt the pains of sin, but also all the pains, sicknesses, profound depressions, mind-numbing fears, temptations and humiliations all people have suffered and will suffer, guilty and innocent alike. To me the most amazing thing about it all is that through it all He had His agency and could have called it off at any time. He could not be compelled to do what he did. It had to be a free-will offering or it was of no value. The only thing that could keep Him going was a total and profound love for us all; perhaps more especially for those who many might consider to be the cast-offs of society. I believe He has a special place in his heart for those who suffer so much in life.

He held nothing back. He gave everything He had to offer in life and death. How is it that knowing this I still find it hard to give all that I have? The older I get the more clarity I have about my own behavior. I am ashamed of the self-centered and self-righteous attitudes I had as a younger man and I am certain there are many more such attitudes I have now that I haven’t identified yet. Age and repentance does that.

The historian Will Durant said; “Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance.” I re-coined that phrase to “Repentance is the continual discovery of the depth of our sinning.” It’s kind of a two-edged sword. The more we strive to improve the more we clearly see our actions and ideas, past and present for what they were and are. It can be depressing, but in reality it’s a clear sign that we are improving or we would be blind to those things. Still, I am very glad the Lord sees fit not to show me all my faults at once. I think it would be devastating.

Still, I am resolved to do better. I owe Him nothing less.